all disclaimers apply as usual.
author's note: Heheh, I'm on a roll with this fic! But, I'm rather enjoying it. I hope you, my readers, are as well. I'm beginning to see where this fic will end. For those who read this at ff.net: Thank you to those who have reviewed so far. Reviews tend to inspire and encourage me and therefore, I sometimes turn out chapters quicker. Thank you in advance to those of you who review this chapter and future ones. You have more power on a writer than you may even know. Also, FYI: this fic, as well as many of my others and other info about this series and others, can be found at my website: www.flamindragon.net
As Yami and Seto walked onward to the palace, Bakura's mouth ran. Suddenly a slight flaw in their plan dawned on the two teens.
"He's gonna rat us out Seto."
"I could've told you that."
"Then why didn't you?"
"It was YOUR plan and YOU ARE the PRINCE, oh royal one." Seto snapped back sarcastically.
"Bind his mouth." Yami simply stated.
"YOU bind his mouth. I don't want him biting me. I don't desire to contract whatever disease he has."
"Yet you wish me to?"
"YOUR plan, remember?"
Yami growled and tore a piece of cloth from Seto's very cape. He smirked as he did so. Seto hated his precious, meticulous clothing being soiled or worse yet, in disrepair!
"You didn't have to do that."
"Yeah I did. It's the only cloth I have and as you said, it's MY plan."
As they argued, they forgot how close they were to the palace. Seto noticed first and kicked the still arguing prince in the shin.
"OW! HEY!"
"You should be weak and tired from your capture right?"
"You could've just used your big mouth and told me so. There was no reason to KICK me." Yami replied in a hushed tone.
Bakura laughed inwardly. He seriously wondered if these two were in trouble or if they were kicked out of the palace by their parents or mentors for being such annoying, obnoxious, loud brats. He guessed that the current pharaoh had less years than many thought. Trying to keep his son reigned in was probably shortening his life by years. And the poor mother of this child! If she wasn't bald or greying, then she likely looked aged beyond her years! The young priest's parents, well that was different. Bakura noticed that the young priest seemed calmer and to desire troublemaking much less. But, he seemed to follow the boy of higher status, willingly or not.
Upon reaching the gates of the palace, the guards immediately recognized the young priest and gasped at the state of their future ruler. "Hurry, get him into the palace!" one guard said as he hurried with the gate. The three entered the palace grounds.
As they drew nearer to actually entering the palace, Yami slowed his pace. "This doesn't feel right Seto."
"Of course not, that cape is customed designed for my height."
"Not that you dolt! Geesh. I'm talking about this plan. I'm having second thoughts."
"It's YOUR plan! And, it's too late to reformulate now. We're upon the palace." Seto reminded. He actually wanted this plan to progress. He'd be the hero afterall.
"Seto, there were only two guards at the gate and two more at the palace door."
"So?"
"There's usually four at each entrance."
"Maybe it's a slow night."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Seto shrugged and remained wordless. He didn't know. He was just trying to fill in the conversation and convince the prince to continue on with the plan.
Meanwhile, Bakura was listening intently to the prince. As a professional thief, he too, would pick up on deviations from the norm. Perhaps this boy prince would be a force to be reckoned with upon reaching the throne. They thought alike. Their only difference was their profession. Bakura knew enough about the palace's routines. He'd been there often enough to steal this or swipe that. The prince was right. Something was amiss.
Yami stopped short of entering the palace. Seto tried to push him forward, but the prince stood firm.
"What the---just enter. We're at a point of no return prince." the frustrated young priest mentioned. Normally he could drag the prince along with his superior strength. But, he was tugging a tomb robber along as well. His strength was divided and thus, Yami won this physical struggle.
"We cannot continue with this plan." Yami stated coldly and refused to move further. The sudden chill of danger ran through his spine. He sensed that he was no longer in control of his own game...that someone else had changed the rules.
Seto ignored him and motioned for the guards to open the accessway into the palace. As he did so, a large imposing figure in glistening gold stood in their path.
"We're screwed." Yami muttered in a very depressed tone. Seto and the thief just hung in shock, their jaws agape. How? When? Where? Was racing through the young priest's mind. The prince, however, just slumped his shoulders and hung his head low in defeat. Only one person could defeat the prince of games. And that very person was standing before him.
No words were expressed the rest of the evening aside from an order to have the tomb robber taken to the holding chambers. The large form immediately removed the Millenium Items from the thief and the young priest. The two boys were escorted to their chambers, servents removed, and told to remain in solitude until they were called for. Yami would have to fend for himself in regards to cleaning himself and tending to his wounds.
Yami remained awake all night, wondering about the events. Suddenly he remembered the servent girl who had taken his place as prince! Was she all right!? What happend to her!? A nervous sinking feeling filled the young prince. Did he get an innocent involved and in trouble because of his cocky and selfish desire to get what he wanted? His plan seemed flawless from the beginning! He was beginning to wonder if the gods hated him.
Seto however, slumped into bed and found sleep. Whatever punishment awaited him wouldn't be dished out until sunrise. There was nothing he could do about it. So, it was best to have a fresh mind. At least, he'd be alert enough to point out how all this was the prince's fault and he was only doing his loyal duty by obeying one of higher status and 'bodyguarding' the future heir to the throne. Yes, being beneath another DID have its advantages at times.
A soft knock came at the prince's door and then the guards outside of it, opened it. The knock was simply a way of saying 'are you decent.' A gracious, beautiful figure entered quietly. Yami looked up from his sulking and was met with a warm, gentle grin and concerned eyes. It was his mother. No matter how much trouble her son was in, it was a mother's instinctive reaction to tend to her child.
"You have gotten yourself into serious trouble this time son." she said softly as she gently lifted her son's face to inspect the nasty scratch across his face. It went from above one eye to the bottom of his cheek on the other side of his face. She also inspected his other scratches. Some had a mixture of blood, sand, and mud within them. They would have to be cleansed or else become infected. The puffiness around each scratch indicated a toxin as well. The thorns contained poison. Yami felt uncomfortable at having his mother looking over his body so closely, yet felt at ease at the same time. She stepped away and entered his lavatory. She was preparing a wet cloth and water to cleanse the wounds and clean her son up. Upon her return to his bedside, she also prepared some herbal potion within the water. Prior to marrying his father, Yami's mother was a healer...and still practiced her skills from time to time. But this time, she could only heal the physical. The mental and emotional healing between father and son would be entirely up to them.
"Mother, I can---" Yami softly started. He'd prefer to take such matters as washing his own body into his own hands. But, his mother held a firm hand up. Yami knew it meant silence. He didn't argue with her. He needed an ally badly and eventhough this one had to remain neutral between father and son, her power over them both could decide fates. If Yami could get her to feel compassion for his predicament, perhaps she could enourage his father/her husband to be merciful in whatever punishment coming. It was all he could ask for. He had pulled his father's final straw with this latest scheme. And both mother and son knew it.
Yami cringed as his mother placed the wet cloth onto his scratches. Whatever medicine was upon the cloth, burned right into the wounds. It felt as though a firey dragon was within, burning, clawing, and biting at the very wound itself. But after a moment of searing pain, a comforting, soothing feeling replaced it.
"These thorn scratches have toxin. What type of plant did this?" she asked.
"I don't know mother. I'm not too familiar with types of plants other than what can be eaten and what can't."
She found one of the deeper scratches upon the backside of his shoulder. Of all the scratches, it was the one releasing the most blood. Prying it open slightly, she discovered a thorn still embedded. "This is going to hurt." she said flatly as she grabbed a tweezer like instrument from her 'medical kit' and prepared to dig into the wound and remove the thorn.
Yami had no choice but to suck it up and deal with the pain. He held his breath and closed his eyes tightly as the flame warmed instrument opened the scratch further and began tugging something out of his flesh. Tears began to flow from his sealed eyes.
It only took minutes to clean the scratches and dirt from his body, but it felt like hours! Yami's mother wrapped her son's wounds in bandages, though she had the eerie feeling of wrapping a mummy. She then told him to clothe himself. She departed with no further words. Her head hung low. She gave one last glance at her son before closing the door. Yami's heart sank in sadness and fear. Why did she give him such a longing look? It was almost as if she was looking at him for the last time?! He grew frightened. Was his father THAT angry? He had threatened with lines that he 'could always produce another son', but it was just a threat right? He father was a good king. He wouldn't kill his own son would he? Yami thought about every single incident that he had angered his father with. There were so many! Was he that bad of a son? His mind raced with fear and dread.
Elsewhere, Seto slept peacefully...until the black cat, upset that it was ignored all night, lept onto the young prince and began kneading with claws...right in his groin area. The young priest yelped and was instantly awake. That cat hissed at him then gracefully lept off him and the bed before the priest could swat him. That cat lept onto the window sill, mewed its victory and departed outside. It used the window ledges and other extensions along the palace walls to travel from one chamber to another or hunt birds. Seto cursed the cat a hundred times, but feared it wasn't enough. Damn cat had more than nine lives or it would've been dead by now!
Now that he was up, Seto made his way to a washing bowl and once again, rinsed a wet cloth to place upon his bruised eye. It was swelling just enough to annoy his vision. He then strode over to the window and gazed out upon the stars. One streaked through his line of sight on its way to a firey doom. He made a wish and laughed at himself. He was wishing on a doomed star, one that would not its shiny life much longer. How could a dead star fulfill a wish!? His thoughts suddenly turned to the prince, his friend. As much as he and the prince were at odds with one another, they still cared for one another...in their own quirky ways. Neither would ever admit to how strong their bond of friendship was, but both knew they had found kindred souls within themselves. They complimented each other and could be an unstoppable team. Yet, both had their own personal agendas. Agendas that kept them from ever becoming a true team. The moments of their discovery played in his mind again. That huge imposing, VERY ANGRY figure that stood in their direct path made Seto shudder for a moment, eventhough it was just a memory now. He began to pity the prince. The young prince would definitly bear the brunt of whatever was going to befall them. Seto tried to convince himself that it was all the prince's fault. He'd gotten himself and them both into this whole predicament. But, somehow, some of the guilt found its way to Seto too. He did encourage the prince and 'egg him on' so to speak. Something told him that the prince wasn't going to get off lightly this time. The pharaoh might not be merciful on this occasion. Seto lowered his head and sent a prayer to the gods to protect his friend. He then sat himself at his desk and simply stared thoughtlessly into the flickering flame of a candle upon it for the rest of the night.
Elsewhere in the palace...
Bakura felt honored. He was in a private cell. He didn't have to fight for space with some smelly, crazed idiot. Looking about, he remembered this section of the prison before. The layout of the palace from this location formed in his head...including possible escape routes. Looking about, he tested every physical aspect of the cell, seeking out even the slightest weakness in its structure. Pushing straw and dirt from the ground, he grinned victorously. He probably knew more about the palace than the pharaoh himself! Beneath him was an underground escape route that was for the pharaoh's use should the palace ever come under attack and escape was necessary. Tapping the stone flooring revealed a strangely hollow sound. The thief now knew that the escape route went directly under his holding cell! "Stupid king! Your palace was built by us commoners. We're not stupid. We take care of our own." Bakura muttered under his breath. Common people had more power than most kings ever knew. They expressed it in the most inconspicuous ways, like making sure the escape tunnels would also save some of their own in an attack as well. Bakura worked on loosening some of the weakened floor. He would not be present by the rise of the sun.
to be continued...