Okkkk so this might be more filler, but it has a bit more shippy stuff, so that could be good? xD And oh my goodness, thanks to the reviewers! I am so so SO happy that you think this story is gripping and you can put up with all my random OC information with the other thieves xD I am trying to make them believable characters, and they need backstories to do that, so… yeah. Hope it doesn't annoy anyone ^^ Thanks so much for sticking with me and managing to make it this far. I promise it will be worth it eventually – Jem

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!, Marik, or Bakura. Kazuki Takahashi does

It took two weeks to sort through all the treasure collected from Aknamkanon's tomb. Marik and Menes worked tirelessly at it, writing out list after list detailing the exact details of the treasure and a guesstimate of how much they would be worth at the markets. Marik relied more heavily on Menes for that – he wasn't exactly up to date with the black, behind-closed-doors selling that went on with stolen goods.

Of course, the other thieves picked through the loot for the items they would want themselves. Seti kept the amulet. Even Marik pocketed a couple of bracelets that caught his eye, his gaze lingering on them for a long, long moment before he finally decided to slip them onto his wrists.

He swore he had sensed the Thief King sending him an approving nod at that.

Once all the treasure had been effectively listed, the Thief King and Seti would ride out to the markets, occasionally joined by Anen or Menes or both. On one of their scouting sessions, Anen and Bakura had found a small, working village about half-a-day's ride to the north, and it housed a very healthy marketplace with stall owners who didn't question too deeply about where the treasure had come from.

Marik was not allowed to go. The Thief King had said his riding was not yet strong enough, and commanded Thut to stay with him at the camp whilst the others were out. Marik had argued bitterly, but to no avail. He couldn't decide whether the Thief King was keeping him at the camp for his own safety, though, or whether he just didn't fully trust Marik enough yet to allow him to have contact with people who weren't the thieves.

So Marik sat disconsolately by the ashes of last night's fire, picking savagely at the bracelets on his wrists. He could sense Thut staring at him with an amused glint to his tiny eyes. Marik had had little to do with the huge, burly man so far – he was usually off hunting, or pacing the desert in his own mysterious way – and he felt a little nervous about being left alone with him for so long.

He needn't have worried. Although huge, Thut had a great sense of humour, and a giggle like a little girl. He and Marik were soon getting on, and Marik learned the story of how he joined the Thief King, too.

"I was fourteen," Thut explained in his deep, throaty voice. "Been living rough in a little village my whole life – parents died when I was young – and this little scrap of a thief half my size and two years my junior came swaggering onto my patch and thought he could steal right under my nose." Thut chortled. "Trouble is, he was right."

Marik arched a disbelieving brow. "The Thief King is that good?"

"Never seen a thief like him," Thut admitted openly. "I once witnessed him take earrings right out from a woman's ears, and steal her bag and bracelets whilst he was at it."

Marik shook his head, a little awed despite himself. He had seen first-hand how quick the Thief King's reflexes were, and his strength was formidable even whist he moved silently and without leaving tracks. It didn't take much of a stretch of imagination to cast him as a master thief.

"'Course, we got into a fight," Thut continued with his story, "'Cos the little runt kept stealing all the best bits on my patch. I beat him up pretty good, but he was fast and went running off somewhere. When he came back, Anen was with him."

Marik blinked. "Anen knew him way back then?"

"Wouldn't surprise me if Anen's known him all his life," Thut advised, "Not that I know anything about them. Anyway, Anen comes up to me, bold as gold, and asked if I wanted to join them. No 'thank you for not murdering my boy', no 'sorry', no explanation, just will you come travelling with us, young man?" Thut snorted. "I laughed in their faces at first, but then the little thief showed me his gold. Needless to say, I was impressed – they'd just looted a tomb."

Marik's face blanched. "He was twelve and he'd looted a tomb?!"

"But of course," a horrifyingly familiar and, at that moment, very unwelcome, dark voice answered. "I've been looting tombs since I was nine."

Marik choked. He span around super-quick to find the Thief King himself leaning languidly against his black stallion, watching Marik with a grin.

Marik spluttered. "Where in the hell did you come from?"

"It's called the desert," the Thief King answered without blinking. "Big sandy place. You might have seen it somewhere."

"Very funny." Marik made a face at him.

Bakura chortled, walking forward to join them. He flopped down onto the sand beside Marik and began poking at the fire, stirring up the flames again as the night began to draw near. He glanced at Thut. "You got a bit of the story wrong, though. You didn't beat me up."

Thut grinned. "Gave you a pretty good black eye, if I remember rightly."

"You got lucky," Bakura grunted.

Marik glanced between them, eyeing up Thut's huge size and thick, muscular arms, compared to the Thief King's wiry, lean frame. "…I'd have thought Thut would win easily."

Thut just chortled louder. The Thief King sent Marik a mild glare, his grey eyes dancing in the beginnings of the firelight. "Oh, really?"

"He's a lot bigger than you."

Bakura smiled thinly. "After all our sparring sessions, I thought you might have realised that appearances can be deceiving."

Marik rolled his eyes. "You're fast, but you can't be stronger than Thut."

"Speed is everything, and he has more weight I can use against him."

Thut gave a nod of agreement, casting his eyes skyward. "Much as I'd like it not to be true, he's right."

Marik pursed his lips. "Well, I managed to floor you the last time we sparred."

The Thief King stilled in his poking at the flames. Thut lifted a brow and glanced between them, a snicker daring to grace his lips. The Thief King eyed him as if daring him to comment.

Needless to say, Thut declined.

Marik snickered to himself, feeling proud, and even though the thief turned to send him a mild glare, Marik found he wasn't even afraid anymore.

…

That night, the thieves disappeared inside their tents again, leaving Marik and the Thief King outside. Menes had assured the Thief King that he was working on weaving a new tent now that all the treasure had been catalogued, and in a few days it should all be finished and ready to be lived in. Bakura had merely sent him a wry smirk.

Marik wasn't sure how to feel about that. He had grown accustomed to the Thief King's presence at night; although he was restless, constantly wandering, and Marik still had yet to see him sleep, there was something about knowing he was there that allowed Marik to rest a little easier at night. It would be strange once he was sleeping in a tent.

Marik himself preferred being out under the stars. He drank in the sky every night, his violet eyes reflecting back the starlight as he lay on his side and looked up, enjoying the vast wheeling expanse of it all splayed out above him. In the tomb, he had missed the sky, longing to see it again. Now, he was never indoors.

He still nightmared every night. He would wake sweating and shaking, the image of his Father looming over him with a knife, the flickering shadows lunging around the tomb threatening to enfold his mind in darkness. The images chased around his head until he sat up gasping, or was shaken awake, and he always found himself face to face with the Thief King. Those grey eyes would burn at him, occasionally questioning, but Marik dodged divulging any information. He didn't want to share his story. It was painful to think of – his back already smarted after every dream – and it would lead to too many uncomfortable questions about his connection with the Palace. The Thief King seemed to burn with curiosity, but he didn't ever push Marik. Instead, he would take his arm and lead him out into the desert for more sparring.

Which was why Marik once again found himself on his back.

The Thief King was smirking down at him as he held his blade out to Marik's throat. "And dead. Again."

"Yes, yes, you've killed me hundreds of times now," Marik responded irritably.

Bakura's smirk widened as he stepped back, placing his blade back in his cloak and offering a hand out for Marik to take, all in one fluid motion. Marik gripped his hand and got back to his feet, a little unsteadily as pain glanced down his back, although he still refused to show any weakness on his face.

Bakura didn't let go of his hand straightaway. His grey eyes trained on Marik's, the lazy smirk stretched across his face. "I don't know if it's quite hundreds."

"Whatever it is, it's making my muscles ache," Marik answered dryly, "Even if I do get you some of the time."

"Only some," the Thief King stressed, "Don't go getting arrogant."

"Coming from you?" Marik snorted.

The thief's eyes kept dancing at him, light-grey glistening in the starlight. The moon was new, leaving the stars as the only source of light, and so all Marik could truly see of Bakura was the silvery glisten to his hair and the jagged scar that tracked down the side of his face. His hand was warm in Marik's. Marik was gripped by the sudden, unbidden desire to move forwards, to hold the thief and feel his warmth all around him; a comfort in the freezing desert night.

But that was irrational, and the Thief King would probably attack him for the attempt.

Or would he? It was getting more and more difficult for Marik to guess at the Thief King's motives, or figure out his intentions. It felt like he could hardly turn around without that dancing grey gaze fixed on him, or that lazy smirk watching his way around the camp. Marik couldn't help but shiver whenever he sensed the thief watching him.

"Come here."

The Thief King's voice broke into Marik's thoughts and he blinked, glancing towards the thief in the shadows of the night. He frowned. "Why?"

"Why must you always question me?" The Thief King's voice still dripped with amusement, and he tugged on Marik's hand, drawing him closer. Marik moved with a squeak, his body crashing forwards almost into Bakura's chest, but the thief caught him easily.

Marik blinked when something was pressed into his hand. "What's this?"

"For you."

Marik lifted the object closer to his eyes, inspecting its shadowy form. His eyes widened a little when he realised it was a knife. The handle was warm wood, engraved with something, but in the darkness Marik couldn't make it out. From the weight of it, he could tell it was much finer than the simple blade he'd been practising with. Marik thought he caught a glimpse of gold.

"What is this?" He gasped.

"You need a better blade." Marik could hear the smirk in Bakura's voice. "Fit for a king, after all."

Marik rolled his eyes a little at the play on the meaning of his name. He couldn't help but chuckle, though. "The Thief King is calling me a king? I think I should be flattered."

"I warned you about getting arrogant."

"Then you shouldn't give me nice things."

"Are you complaining?"

"Hm…" Marik paused thoughtfully, a wicked grin at his lips. "…Depends how much gold it's got."

A slightly stunned silence hung for a moment. Then, a low chuckle escaped Bakura's lips, far closer to Marik's ear than he expected. "You are quite the brat, aren't you?"

Marik bristled at that comment, although he still felt the irrational desire to laugh, and to move closer to the thief. Bad idea. You don't even know him, remember? He sniffed. "Believe me, if I was a brat, I don't think I'd have survived with you this long."

"Mm," the thief was laughing again; Marik could hear it in his voice. "You do enough complaining for a brat."

"I can't help it if your living conditions aren't up to scratch."

The thief gave a harsh laugh, his chest rumbling close to Marik's ear. He turned, tugging on Marik's hand to lead him back towards the camp. Marik complied without complaint, stashing his new knife deep within his cloak. The Thief King's hand felt warm and natural in his own.

However, after a few more steps, Marik jerked his hand free and backed up with a panicked gasp.

In the orange light of the dawning sun, a shadow slowly became illuminated by Marik's feet. It was a shadow that was long, and sinuous, with a rearing head and a long, never-ending tail that curled around itself agitatedly. A shadow that hissed.

A snake.

Marik backed up as fast as he possibly could, feeling his panicked breaths rattling through his chest, his heart thudding away loud in his throat. He swallowed, putting as much distance between himself and the horrid hissing winding thing as he could.

"Marik?"

The Thief King's voice sounded confused, probably wondering where on earth he had just disappeared to. Marik couldn't speak. He was gasping loudly, eyes fixed on the snake. It reared its head, waking with the dawning sun, and hissing loudly.

"Marik, what…" the thief stopped suddenly when he followed Marik's terrified stare to see the snake lolling its head in the sand. He blinked. Then turned his head to glance at Marik, who was visibly trembling. Then back to the snake, which reared its head at him, blinking sleepily in the dawning sun.

Bakura threw his head back and laughed.

Marik felt a shiver ripple down his spine at that unruly, wild sound, the hairs on his arms rising in response. Something dropped to the bottom of his stomach, but he brushed it away, more focused on the movements of the snake and keeping as far away from it as possible. He bit back a horrified scream, instead releasing a strangled gasp as the snake actually began to move towards him…!

"C-calm down!" The thief finally got himself together enough to move, holding up a hand. "And stay still. You're fine."

I am not fine! Marik wanted to holler, but all he could manage was another strangled yelp.

The Thief King rolled his eyes. "If you keep making noises like that, you're just asking her to attack you."

Much to Marik's shock, the thief strode calmly up to the snake and crouched by its side. The snake stared at him, its head weaving sinuously side-to-side, and Bakura almost seemed to match its movements as they looked at each other. Marik was frozen in shock as he watched Bakura extend a hand, and the snake slid happily up his arm.

"Wh-what the hell are you doing?!" Marik finally managed to choke past the closing of his throat.

The Thief King turned to him with an arched brow and an amused glint to his grey eyes. "Saying hello."

Marik shook on the spot, but his look said exactly what he thought of that response.

"She isn't going to hurt you," the thief explained patiently, turning his body so Marik could see the snake sway its weary way up to his shoulders. "She's tired – I think you woke her up."

"I don't care! Get it away from me!"

The thief smirked, taking a step closer, but Marik skittered back ten paces and buried his face in his hands. He was breathing rapidly, his nails clenching into his skin as he tried to keep calm. Snakes were one thing he could not cope with.

"Marik?"

There was a slight rustle, followed by footsteps, and then something warm touched Marik's arm. He jumped five feet in the air, giving a loud shriek, but then hands gripped his shoulders and gave him a slight shake. "It's just me, Marik."

Marik dared to peek through his fingers to find the Thief King watching him, his expression carefully impassive.

Marik drew in a breath, glancing around quickly. "Wh-where…"

"The snake's gone," he explained gently, "I put her down and she slithered off somewhere under the sand. She won't be coming back."

Marik took in another slow, shuddering breath, attempting to calm the trembling of his limbs and the thudding of his heartbeat. He felt dizzy.

Warm hands drew him closer, until he was almost against the Thief King's chest, and a hand at the back of his head forced him to meet the Thief King's grey gaze. He arched one brow. "Now, what was that all about?"

"Nothing," Marik spat back automatically.

The thief lifted his eyes skywards before looking back and capturing Marik's gaze with his. He smirked, and Marik felt the breath leave his body all over again. "I have told you before about keeping secrets from me."

"It's nothing," Marik repeated stubbornly.

"It clearly isn't."

"I just don't like snakes."

Bakura snorted. "Your definition of don't like is a bit extreme."

Marik narrowed his eyes into a glare, the last remnants of panic in his system making him more honest than he usually would be. "I think you'd hate them too if you were bitten as a kid!"

"Oho!" The Thief King tightened his grip on Marik's shivering form, holding him in place. "You were bitten?"

Marik glared, but kept his silence.

The thief rolled his eyes. "It really isn't going to hurt you that much to tell me a bit about you."

"…A snake got in the tomb," Marik muttered sullenly after a while, "My first year there. It bit my ankle. I was in bed for weeks."

The thief arched a brow. "Doesn't seem so bad."

"Oh, sure," Marik snapped back. He drew in a breath, trying not to remember his Father's reaction when he had found Marik lying pained and gasping in the corridor, pale from the venom. You are a weakling, boy! No son of mine should behave like this! Get up and walk, boy!

The warm hands on his shoulder gave him a shake, bringing Marik back to the present. He looked up to meet the Thief King's curious grey gaze. "There's something else."

Marik pursed his lips and kept his silence.

"Tell me." The Thief King's demand was quiet, low, in his deep, alluring voice.

Marik closed his eyes and blew out a slow, calming breath. "My Father didn't handle it very well."

"Oh? How so?"

Marik flinched automatically, pulling out of the thief's grip only for his elbows to be grabbed instead of his shoulders. The Thief King eyed him with a calm stare. "Tell me."

Marik shifted uncomfortably, staring down at the sand by his feet. "…He … he didn't like it when I showed weakness. Said I was a disappointment, couldn't uphold the family name."

Bakura nodded slowly, his lips pursed. "He punished you?"

Marik flinched again. The scars on his back prickled, sending a ripple of burning pain shivering through his skin. The holes where his skin should be ached.

Then, without warning, warm arms were enclosing him and Marik's face was buried in a shoulder. The Thief King's musky, enticing scent surrounded him, filled with a promise of shadows and darkness, pleasure and warmth, and the heat of his body was incredible in the cool first light of dawn.

"The snake's gone now," the thief mentioned conversationally, and managed to still sound matter-of-fact, "So you can stop shivering."

Marik drew in another breath. Without questioning the situation, he pressed his face into the brown neck that was offered to him and lifted his hands to grip onto the thief's red cloak, moving closer into the warmth. It was pleasant after the freezing desert night. He gave another small, shuddering breath, and allowed his body to relax, the memories of the tomb flooding out from him, flashing behind his eyelids. He let them flow; they would be gone soon enough, and then he could return to normal.

Bakura glanced down at the body so suddenly pressed up against his own, and felt a slight shudder ripple through him. This feeling was … foreign. He watched the growing sunlight play across Marik's golden hair, feeling arms grip onto him, and he automatically tightened his grip around Marik's back. A foreign expression crossed his face. He pursed his lips, allowing the moment to continue for a short while longer, before his lazy smirk spread across his mouth again. "You are awfully fond of falling asleep on me."

Marik instantly drew back, lifting his face to meet the thief's eyes, only to find himself trapped by the arms encircling his back. His heart was thudding loudly again, but for an entirely different reason this time. He summoned up a glare from somewhere. "You started this one."

The thief didn't deny it; instead, his grey eyes glittered at Marik, dancing in the morning rays of sun. "Can you really blame me?" he hummed softly.

Marik blinked. Confusion flitted across his face for a moment, unsure what the Thief King was getting at, or how much to read into his words. His grey eyes were looking straight into Marik's narrowed violet gaze, and there was an unreadable emotion flicking in them, along with the fire that always seemed to burn in the Thief King's gaze.

"After all," the thief continued, his low voice vibrant in the desert night, "You're still carrying your past, when you need to let it go."

Marik stared at him.

Without hesitating, a warm hand was on the back of Marik's head, fingering through the golden strands of his hair. Marik froze, staring at the Thief King, confusion rattling through his skull. His brain was a mess of scattered thoughts as the thief leaned closer, those grey eyes inching ever nearer to Marik's own, and the scent of him was everywhere, surrounding Marik in an enticing mix that promised warmth and excitement and understanding. He felt his breath stop in his chest, his heart pounding in his ribcage as the thief pressed him closer.

The Thief King continued to watch him.

Marik's lips were tingling. His brain was frozen in stasis, locked in place, and all he could see was the thief's grey eyes watching him, his silver hair in the dawning sun, the jagged scar that traced down his face all the way to his lips … Marik's eyes landed there and he couldn't seem to look away. He swallowed with difficulty, his stomach a mess of jumping nerves. His entire body craved to move forwards, to close the last bit of distance between them and finally feel himself as close to the Thief King as he had been craving for a long time now. For Marik now realised that that was exactly what he'd been doing; craving the Thief King's touch.

The thief stared straight at him, and was it Marik's imagination or was he leaning closer? Breath brushed across Marik's lips, his body so warm and close, and Marik closed his eyes and started to move closer…

"Chief! We've got something!"

And just like that, the moment was gone.

Bakura pulled back from Marik, dropping his arms and stepping out of touching distance as he turned to where the voice had sounded from. It was Seti, standing at the camp a little way off with one arm lifted in a signal, beckoning for Bakura to come closer. Marik was left with a rush of unsatisfied warmth flooding through him. He drew in another shaky breath, clenching his fists by his sides and closing his eyes as he tried to get his rushing heartbeat to relax. That had been way too close. Way too close. He had very nearly kissed the Thief King, and then he wasn't sure what would have happened.

He'd either be dead by now, or even further in the Thief King's grip.

He wasn't even sure which one of those he would prefer.

When Marik opened his eyes again, it was to find Bakura staring straight at him. He jumped instinctively, then narrowed his eyes to hide his momentary shock and discomfort, clicking his jaw. He gestured to Seti. "Shouldn't you get to that?"

The Thief King's eyes were dancing, as if he had some kind of private joke on Marik. It just served to make Marik feel even more self-conscious than he already did, but he hid the irritating emotion behind another glare.

The thief's lazy smirk spread back across his lips. "Of course, but I'm not leaving until you come with me."

Marik blinked, thrown again for a moment.

"Can't risk you running off again." Bakura reached out and gripped Marik's wrist, beginning to drag him back towards the camp.

Marik resisted after a moment, tugging away with a low hiss. "I can walk for myself!"

"Then get a move on." Bakura was still smirking, and the expression infuriated Marik more than anything.

Marik growled, then reached out and grabbed Bakura's hand, striding off towards the camp with him in tow. Bakura lifted a brow. "Sometimes, I wonder when you stopped being so afraid of me."

"I was never afraid of you," Marik scoffed.

"Oh really?" The thief chuckled, leaning in suddenly to be closer to Marik's ear. "Could have fooled me. I thought you might shit your pants the first time you walked in here."

Marik startled at those blunt words, already flustered, before he rolled his eyes with a muttered, "You wish."

The Thief King merely gave a hash laugh, and kept his hand in Marik's as they walked on towards Seti and the camp.

I don't really know how I feel about this. I hope it's ok and makes sense… yeah… anyway, thanks so much for reading this far ^^ I'm actually going away tomorrow for a week, so the next update won't be until I get back from then, probably. Though if I have wifi where I'm going, it might be out sooner. Thanks so much for reading, and I'd love to know what you think so far~ Thank you! - Jem