A/N I AM BACK! Sorry everyone for the massive delay in posting this chapter, the dreadded RL finally caught up with me, however I am proud to announce that I have officially FINISHED SCHOOL! and thus will be back to a more regular updating schedule...

A bit of a warning, the rating has gone up due to some darker themes being explored.

And now for the dreaded "chapter 13" I seriously didn't plan this... I promise.

Chapter 13 – Betrayals

Bakura's legs had grown numb lying folded beneath him as they were, but he had no inclination to move as haunted memories rose to the fore of his mind. Seth had said he was going to gather what information he had, leaving Bakura once more in the company of his own thoughts. Their screaming faces still haunted his dreams, but he hadn't re-lived that day in so many years... he hadn't let himself.

His mother was a beautiful woman. She had held herself with a grace that few of their lifestyle could muster. Their town had been a small one, just a small collection of hovels really but he'd never seen it like that, to him it was home and the best sort of one at that. He'd never questioned the lessons taught to him by his father, he knew how to lie before he could speak, learnt how to 'hunt,' as his father termed it, before he could walk. At the tender age of ten he could walk down a street with no money at one end and half a dozen purses at the other.

It was a thrill to hold such a power, he knew it, his mother had always told him thus. Yet she had cautioned him about it, about the lure that such powers could have. Bakura almost laughed out loud at the irony of it... a woman who had lived her life teaching her only son to beware his own lust for power, was killed by another man's fear of it.

He'd spent the day out in the sand dunes, not an uncommon past time for him; Bakura had never been the social type. As the sun began to lower over the horizon he started the long trek back to his village. He remembered admiring how Ra's light seemed to make his city glow, a silly thought, a child's thought... Ra's light did not grace people like his people, people like him.

The screams were the worst of it, carried on a mocking breeze, taunting him. He was too far to help, yet too close to turn his eye from the horrific sight before him. Instead he watched with a tearing heart as armed men stormed his village indiscriminately hacking, stabbing and killing all they could reach. Men, Women, children, even the new born babes died within their mothers screaming arms. He watched, sickened, as the blood began to stain the walls and ground still littered with the evidence of children playing.

Above the cacophony of screams he heard another tone, this one deep and rhythmic. Slowly it dominated the skies, penetrating into Bakura's young mind, a constant, repetitive chant. On and on it went until it was all that he could hear. A hand of ice clutched his heart as he realised why...

The screams had stopped.

Every one of those voices had been silenced; his mouth opened and closed dumbly as if his own ability to speak had been taken away along with the lives of everyone he knew, everyone he loved.

He could only watch now with detached fascination as the blood seemed to rise from the ground and converge about the chanters. Pure and red as if it had just slipped from a silver blade. Slowly the mass formed and reformed, it seemed to be fighting the bonds placed upon it, Bakura hadn't even realised his feet had been carrying him forward until he began to recognise faces within the mass. Bakura fought off a violent urge to vomit as he realised that the mass was not the villagers' blood.

It was their souls.

Slowly, the repugnant form began of glimmer and morph until the once crimson mixture turned to a startling gold. The chanting that had fallen into the back of his mind rose once more to a fevered pitch and the great mass began to pour like water into a great stone tablet. Using every ounce of skill that he possessed Bakura crept closer until he could see the crevices of the rock that were being filled. A pyramid, a ring, a rod, an eye, a necklace, a key and a pair of scales each seemed to glow with their own light in the darkness, brighter and brighter until all Bakura could see was white. Everywhere, all around him, inescapable, absolute... horrific.

Suddenly, the light died, to become an all pervading cloak of inky black.

It was the faintest taste of burning flesh amongst the acrid smoke that reached him. He awoke to find himself still on the dune from which he had witnessed his nightmare, yet it seemed that the fates were not yet finished in their torment. He felt what little remained of his heart break and weep at the still smouldering remains of his life. Steeling himself he rose to his feet and slipped carefully into the village. The smell of death pervaded no matter where he turned, he touched the blackened walls of his home, bent to shift the ashes from the floor of his sisters bedroom and withdrew a golden object hidden amongst the remains. He recoiled slightly as flashes of the grotesque mass assaulted his vision; the object fell from his hand shedding its coating of soot as it collided with the hard wooden floor.

Trembling hands scooped up the object before him as his eyes deciphered the symbol emblazoned on the front. The shattered pieces of his heart hardened with a flash of blinding rage. With gall he recalled his helplessness the night before and to himself he swore that he would rectify that mistake.

With a cry of rage the sole remaining voice of Kul Elna threw his challenge at the gods themselves and vowed to accomplish what no mortal should ever wish.

He would kill the Son of Ra himself... kill the Pharaoh.

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"Wait, come on," Yugi interrupted with a sceptical look, "now you're just making it up, how could you possibly know that?" They had been travelling for a full day with their entourage, who informed them that they were another days ride from the capital. Having finally set down to rest once more, Atemu had continued his tale where he left off.

Atemu's icy glare quickly cooled his warm humour, "because he told me so, when we first met." Inexplicably a fond grin flashed its way across his face, "Well I say met, but I wouldn't call it your standard form of introduction...

I was in the market place alone, contrary to my Fathers expressed wishes. He had become so paranoid by then. I supposed, had I been any older I would have been far more sympathetic to his anxiety. Having already lost a wife, I can only imagine the fear that would have plagued him about losing his only son. But all I saw was him giving up; he became the man who had forsaken my mother's memory mere hours after the final farewell. Not a father bereft of love, and caught within an impossible choice.

I've never been as scared as when I saw his knife. He was just a boy, not more than two years older than me, but with the hair of an old man, and his eyes... they reminded me of Father, haunted by thoughts of darkness. I don't think he realised who I was, otherwise he would have killed me on the spot.

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to distract him as I reached for my sword – I may have been angry at my father but that didn't mean that I had turned into a complete idiot.

"I don't really think you're in a position to argue kid." The boy had replied, his grey eyes seemed to hold no pity within them, as if they had died. "I'd rather not make a scene but truly if it'll be quicker I could kill you if you choose." His voice was callous, uncaring, but it was his youth that betrayed him. After you kill someone, a man is never the same; there will always be something within their eyes – a line that has been crossed, a deed that could not be undone.

As it turned out he had only seen the finery of my cloak, and he needed a disguise and money – both of which I had. But I gave them to him at a price.

"Where are you bound if you need something so fine?"

The boy shifted uneasily before a dark shadow breezed across his face. "I am here to repay a debt." He replied simply.

"To whom?"

"WHY SHOULD I TELL YOU!" The boy snarled, his anger flashing to the surface. It occurred to me how unbalanced he might be, in the few minutes I had known him he'd changed his mood no less than five times, and each had been turbulent and totally new.

"Because I can help you."

I had spoken without thinking, but something pushed me to trust this youth. I guessed he needed access to a nobles home – for anywhere else the cloak would have stuck out like a sore thumb. I told him I was the son of a high ranked noble, that – if he would tell me the reason why – I would gain him entrance to where it was he needed to go.

It took a little more convincing than that, but eventually he told me... he told me everything.

The village was a thief's hideout, as it is know in the courts, rank with all sorts of unpleasant characters. But when he spoke of the children, when he spoke of their screams, I saw red!

I my mind's eye I could see Aknadin speaking to my father, lying to my father. He had simply done what he deemed necessary, and thrown the permission of the Pharaoh into the bargain for naught but his peace of mind.

With a sick jolt I thought of the cursed items that snake had presented not days ago, and the joy with which we had received them. I knew the pyramid shaped pendant, it had been the one presented to my father; as we spoke the priests were training with them extending their control of the power they afforded.

I told him that I would not stop him, only if he would give his word to hear the Pharaoh out, I thought that if I could prove what Aknadin had done then we could end this, or...at least make it right! I arranged to meet the boy outside of the palace gates after the moon had set and we parted ways...

"It's funny how one thing can lead to another, if my father had never ordered that attack, I would never have been mad at him, Bakura never would have left his home, father would never have banned me from sneaking out and we would never have done what we did..."

Yugi was silent; it was the only reply that he could give.

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"Atemu found me in the temple I had been assigned to oversee, he told me everything and what my father had done." Seth's eyes looked up to lock with Joey's; they sat once more in the dusty archives. More scrolls had been unearthed and Joey had, through the process of the day, managed to order them chronologically. Seth's gaze drifted back towards the papyrus that surrounded them, attempting to hide the grievous pain that was buried there.

"I was furious," Seth continued, "but... it was more than that, for some reason I felt..." He paused once more, unable to voice the jealous thought.

"Betrayed?"

Seth looked up at Joey in shock, steely-blue found impenetrable amber once more, yet again they were harsher, colder, but guarded as well. "Yes" he said slowly. They sat in silence for several moments before Seth returned to his surveying of the scrolls.

"After Atemu had explained to me his plan, I immediately agreed. The sun had long since set and the guards patrolled by lighted torches about the palace, I told him to wait for the boy to show, that I would lure my father to the throne room. I shouldn't have gone. I should have stayed with Atemu. Should, should, should...

I found him in his office. He had already accepted the responsibility of the eye. It freaked me out seeing that staring at me in the place of my father's gaze. He invited me in, told me to "sit down, make yourself comfortable," all the time looking at me with that... thing.

"What is troubling you son?" He asked me. I didn't reply. I could feel the eye probing at my defences, I was a priest in my own right by then, I had some command of magic and the ability to defend myself. Nothing as strong as what the eye could muster, but I wanted him to fight for it. I wanted to see just how far he would desecrate his own son's mind to get the answers he so desired.

The pressure grew stronger and the fury within my gut began to boil, yet still I waited him out. I knew the moment he had gleaned the cause of the white hot fury within me as he usual impassive coal eyes turned first angry... then afraid.

"My son, what is it? What has happened?" He said again, a slight tremor to his voice, I just burst. He knew! He knew what was wrong, and what had bloody well happened!

"How could you!" I screamed. I couldn't stop myself. "You are sick! Murderer!"

He reached towards me, obviously intent on calming me down, trying to stop the awkward questions as to why his son would shout such things... questions he couldn't answer. I freaked out, "don't touch me!" I shouted cringing away from the taller figure I was now ashamed to call my blood relative. I heard my mother approach holding my infant brother. Her face was taught with anger.

"Will you keep it down! I just got Mokuba to sleep." My father's anxious gaze shot to my mother before meeting mine, silently trying to convince me not to tell my mother what I knew. What he had done.

"Of course my dear, we apologise." Aknadin said stepping forward to place a hand on my shoulder, I jerked violently out of the way and ducked behind my mother.

"I said don't TOUCH me!" I snarled.

"Seth what...?" My mother asked, baffled by my actions. I looked to Aknadin.

"Yes father, WHAT? What could you possibly have done that was so terrible?" I sneered at him, pain seeping into my voice, "why don't you tell mother why I don't want your blood-soaked hands on me!" I was shaking, I could no longer stop the words from coming forth even if I wanted too. "Tell her, tell her how you ordered, and then stood by to watch the deaths of ALL THOSE PEOPLE!"

My mother was a shrewd woman; she could see how near I was to a breakdown, to simply collapsing from the vicious emotions coursing through me. She bent before me, and placed Mokuba into my hands.

"Seth," she said softly, "take Moki, and go calm down, why don't you find your uncle in the throne room?" Her eyes begged me to do as she suggested; she didn't want either of her sons to be there, she wanted to keep us safe. I just nodded and went to leave, it never occurred to me that mother herself was in danger.

As she stood and turned to face my father my eye caught a glint of steel, just before my father buried the knife deep within her chest.

Crimson blood fell from my mother in a grotesque fountain, staining not only her own robes but that of the cursed man who took her life, right in front of my eyes.

I did the only thing I could do, as I stood there with my baby brother in my arms.

I ran.

MWAHAHAHA! I'll finish there, you know what to do, click the little blue link and tell me what you thought of this chapter, reviews are appreciated as I was very unsure of this chapter, writing it was like getting blood out of a stone -_-

Particular problems was Bakura's story at the beginning, and Seth's confrontation with his father... Please let me know what you think.

See ya next time
- Phoenix