A/N: HEY. STORY. UPDATE. YAY.

Warning: I WILL DO IT AGAIN I SWEAR TO GAWD. But, seriously, there's a little bit of gore in here because I have a sick fetish for that shit, ya know.

I own only the Oc's and the plot.


Chapter Nine: Caught Like a Fly

"3 days? Really? They plan to set up a wedding for the new rulers only three days? I hope the servants are fit enough to stay up day and night,"

Atem chuckled, intertwining their hands as they walked along the water in the garden. "You are correct. With all the hustle and bustle that will be going around the palace, I doubt any of us will be getting any sleep."

Ryoua squeezes his hand in hers, her eyes meeting his. The colors of their eyes contrasted like black and white; she wonders how she never noticed how alike and different his and Bakura's eyes were.

"Something amiss?"

"Oh... no, sorry. I'm well, I'm well."

He smiles, "That's fantastic! I would not want you to be getting nervous."

"Yeah... me neither."

Atem leaned down, brushing their lips together.


He grunted as he pulled himself up the high balcony, not-so-gracefully falling onto the hard stone; when he heard the door of the room creak open, he quickly hid behind a large pot, the plant itself covered more of him than the actual pot itself.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

He heard someone- a woman- having a violent coughing fit as the door was quickly shut; the man noted quite quickly that he had the wrong location. Dammit. He was almost sure that this had been the prince's room; but, he assumed, his fiancé was good enough, too. She was much more intoxicating. She could prove herself to be more entertaining if he felt like it. That body was quite tempting, after all.

The sound of clay vases crashing against the walls brought him out of his sick fantasies; he nearly jumped out of his skin when one went flying over the balcony and to the courtyard below.

"Aaah!"

"Lady Ryoua... are you alright? I heard loud noises-"

"I am well, Isis! Perfectly well!"

The infamous man watched as the future woman sunk to her knees, arms wrapped around herself, sobbing. "...There was so much blood, Isis... There was so much pain..."

The priestess knelled down beside her, wrapping her arms around the youth, whispering, "I know, I know. I am trying all I can..."

"Do not tell anyone,"

"I will not,"

"I want my company to be enjoyed why I am still here... before we're all gone and brought up again,"

"I'm sorry it has to be painful,"

"It is better than feeling nothing at all,"

Isis was silent, standing after a moment, saying a few words under her breath and leaving.

The thief watched the short-haired brunette on the ground for a long time; he watched her spine move every time she did, he watched the blood on her dress smear onto her skin, and watched as her body shook from coughing and crying. He was entranced by how close to death she really was and how Isis was the only one who seemed to notice; her body was frail, much too frail. It should be obvious to anyone, especially someone who is usually fed so well, that she is a sickly woman. The dress she wore currently showed off her spine and ribs even more.

While in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed that the young woman had pulled over a large crate full of water, took off her dress, and dripped into the water, resuming the same pose before she had moved, but her face was towards him. Her skin was bruised and bloodied- like she had been beaten, but he knew better than that. Her organs were shutting down.

She was shutting down.

Suddenly, the door creaked open to reveal Ryuuji, who rushed over to his sister, wrapping his arms around her. "It shall be all right, sister... I will be the substitute for comfort, if nothing else does."

"Why did it have to be me...?" She was not crying, he noted. She was shaking, but she wasn't crying. In fact, she sounded as monotone as ever.

"Because I was give the chance to live, but with a terrible price," Ryuuji's voice shook, "your death."