"Damnation"
By Destiny's Creator
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters; so indeed, forever am I cursed … but don't worry, this story isn't about that. References made from "The Premature Burial" by Edgar Allen Poe, which should explain a lot actually… ^-^
Rating: PG-13, I think because… just because…
Genre: This story includes Angst/Horror, definitely one of mine… but I did through in some bits of fluffy romancing for flavor! @o@
Warning: Contains traces of Ryou/Bakura yaoi. Descriptive scenes of torture, death, destruction, and revenge mentioned, though not necessarily in that order, and not quite being what you may think (this is a repercussion of Bakura's past after all, but entirely made up with no relevance to the actual plot of YuGiOh!). There may be slightly 'strong' language used, but being as I myself am not a frequent curser, Bakura is going to have to deal with being only mediocre at it (and not very creative to say the least). And no, they don't actually do anything, as I was trying my best to keep the characters in character (our poor virgin Ryou… O-o)
Summary:
"Fearful indeed the suspicion—but more fearful the doom!
It may be asserted, without hesitation, that no event is so terribly well adapted to inspire the supremeness of bodily and of mental distress, as is burial before death."
General:
Bakura, Yami (dark), Tomb Robber, Spirit of the Sennen (Millennium) Ring, Mou hitori no boku (my other half), all refer to Yami Bakura.
Ryou, Hikari (light), Yadounshi (my host, my property), all in reference to Ryou (last name) Bakura (first name)... I know it's so confusing, but that's just the way it is… (Can you tell I'm American?)
/Hikari to Yami/
//Yami to Hikari//
Extractions from "The Premature Burial"
((author's notes))
Note: I gave Yami Bakura his own body; there is actually a way to achieve this by the standards of the Ancient Egyptians, (I did my research! Then again so did many people also… well, my way's original though to my knowledge) but it's not relevant to this story; maybe I'll include it some other time though...
In conclusion, I've already completed this but due to length; I will be posting it in three different sections during the next three days. I apologize for any inconvenience caused but I believe this to be best... (And maybe receive more reviews in turn for encouragement?)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Such evil cannot be undone…
Such innocence will not be left unprotected…"
-unknown (wallpaper)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"There are certain themes of which the interest is all-absorbing, but which are too entirely horrible for the purposes of legitimate fiction.
These the mere romanticist must eschew, if he do not wish to offend or to disgust.
They are with propriety handled only when the severity and majesty of Truth sanctify and sustain them.
We thrill with the most intense of "pleasurable pain"…
But in these accounts it is the fact—it is the reality—it is the history which excites.
As inventions, we should regard them with simple abhorrence."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
There exist misfortunes within this world that bring naught but damnation to the human spirit.
These death sentences, considered morbidly corrupt according to existing righteous law, hold no justification for their occurrence.
There are no rights to uphold, honor disregarded in the so-called service of 'justice'. No liberties accounted for, and nothing ever gained by means of these horrendous hardships.
Simply put, the suffering inflicted is meaningless, having neither purpose nor hope.
A purely undaunted and unchecked chaos ensues.
That it is the individual who bears this agony, and not the mass as a whole, is the only blessing given... but this in itself is no console.
These ordeals, which hereby and hereafter shall remain nameless, should never acquire a chance to resurface, regardless of circumstance or fate. Reside they should in a captive silence throughout eternity, if only for mercy's sake alone.
The Gods will neither accept nor provide a chance at redemption for the victims; even if the fault does not lie within them, no compassion is ever given. With neither relief nor comfort offered, many chose to give in to an eternal misery.
Despite all this, no man should ever have to fight his battles twice, any more than a mortal should have to dwell for five thousand years of remembrance in the realm of shadows...
Yet one does remain that lived to tell the tale… in a sense.
He never actually survived mind you…
For him this tragedy symbolizes the ultimate trial of woe; terror vanquished his reason for living and sentenced him henceforth to desolation.
This enslavement of the mind, as aforementioned, has no liable reason for existence, should never have arisen to begin with…
Nevertheless, to say that only one soul alone has come to know this suffering would adamantly be a lie… as another has yet to share in his grief.
It pleases no one to admit this, nor should it; anyone sane always refuses to acknowledge the upholding of reality…what must be will be.
Nevertheless, when destiny dictates, all must face their worst fears.
There exists within the world life-altering accounts both great and terrible; here told is one that even the Egyptian spirit inhabiting the Sennen Ring would not wish upon his worst enemy… much less, his other half.
This is the story, forcibly relived through none other than Ryou Bakura, of how the Tomb Robber ultimately discovered darkness.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Night could not help but revel within her newfound freedom, savoring in every ounce of unrestraint. Finally, after a full day of waiting amongst the shadows, she was able to spread out vastly with neither limitations nor boundaries to her nearly absolute power.
To touch everything, to caress the dreaming faces of mortals everywhere, and all while remaining hidden beneath the protective cloak darkness never ceased to provide. She always covered herself, within the darkness, leaving others forbidden from ever knowing of her secret presence… evermore unaware and enabling her total sovereignty.
She had seen many things within her existence, for most conspiring events went on during the after hours of the evening. She had bore witness to terrible hate crimes as well passionate lovers and found she thoroughly enjoyed it all, though grudgingly admitted to having favorites.
One must understand that no amount of passing time could ever cause the Night to forget; after all, the years had virtually no effect upon her. As the ages fly by, Night alone remains unchanged...
Moreover, as soon as the children of darkness were returned to this world after nearly 5,000 years of imprisonment, she was the first there to greet them. Although with feeling a slight remorse at the time, for the sons of Day's own light were with them as well.
She had a terrible disliking of being anywhere close by her own counterpart, so the displeasure at their other halves was only natural. She learned to tolerate the unwelcome presence though, never staying within their company for longer than necessary.
Tonight began no differently than any other when she had first peered in upon one of her revered. The clouds in the sky were thick enough to obscure the moon and stars, providing no illumination whatsoever and pleasing the Night to no end; after all, she had no need for the light… growing stronger instead in its absence.
She had been playing idly with the silver tresses of the Dark one, softly enough so as not to rouse the creature, when she first sensed a disturbance in the air, and instantaneously became aware of the other.
Turning cautiously towards the door could indeed identify the silhouette to be the complement, for an almost ethereal glow surrounded the look-alike. The boy himself was ignorant of it though, or of anything else right now for that matter, his wide eyes trained solely upon his darker half and his darkness alone.
A sense of fear seemed to encompass the youth, coercing any of his other feelings into nonexistence. He was trembling, hard, though apparently not from the cold, as the Night noticed the slightest sheen of sweat upon his brow. He looked to be breathing heavily as well, giving reason to believe he was still nervously recovering from a nightmare.
Moreover, by the look on his face, a deathly nightmare it had been!
He took a hesitant step into the room, noticeably unsure of whether or not to proceed and causing most of the night to flee for sanctuary into the room's darkened corners. Slightly annoyed at the intrusion, but curious nonetheless, the Night gave the dark a slight mental nudge before fully retreating to the safety of the shadows, anticipating the observance over what the light would do.
After all, they hated each other…
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
At first, there was no trace of movement from the tomb robber to indicate awareness, but slowly he shifted around a bit, and then finally blinked a couple of times to clear the remainder of slumber from his eyes.
Looking towards the doorway, he saw his light and became at once perplexed with the disruption of his, much needed, sleep. Cold eyes narrowed in a glare, silently daring him to justify being awake at this ungodly hour.
Ryou gulped but found he could do no more than just stand there and gaze at his feet in uncertainty, his apprehension rooting him to the spot.
He knew dangerous did not even begin to describe his Yami when agitated, just as deadly terrifying could not possibly do him any justice when enraged, but he just had to know…
The fierceness intensified in Bakura's scowl before, all of a sudden, returning to nonexistent.
Bakura visibly stiffened at the emotion that arose from his Hikari in waves, not quite comprehending yet what was going on. He was entirely too familiar with absolute fear, the installment usually being of his own doing, but never before had he felt such searing currents from his other half… since he had first meet him, at least.
Abruptly, he switched the lamp atop his bedside table on to get a better look. Pale did not even come close in comparison to his Hikari's face, ashen white was little better. He looked as though he just came back from his own funeral…and was shivering to the point where his teeth chattered together noisily and uncontrolled.
Eyes widening, he thought it best to await an explanation this once, and raised an impatient eyebrow at his smallish other half, expecting just that.
Silence prevailed for a while after, interrupted only by Ryou's labored breathing and rapid heart rate sounding throughout the room.
At last, he seemed to collect himself enough for a cracked whisper to emerge from within him. He sounded so uncertain of his broken world, and the feelings of his insecurity layered throughout the most imperative statement of either of their dismal lives.
"Bakura… you… you were buried… alive…" he breathed.
It was not a question; it was a revelation…
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"To be buried while alive is, beyond question, the most terrific of these extremes which has ever fallen to the lot of mere mortality.
That it has frequently, very frequently, so fallen will scarcely be denied by those who think.
The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague.
Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?
... Attended with circumstances which go far to warrant the assertion that truth is, indeed, stranger than fiction."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
For many moments that followed Bakura forgot to breathe, he was entirely unsure whether his black heart had frozen within his chest.
He seemed unable to form any coherent thoughts, he could neither feel nor act. In fact, his entire body went into a temporarily stage of numbness at his light's words.
His unbroken stare remained straight ahead, eyes abnormally enlarged and dazed, entranced with the torments of long dead reminiscence.
How could he have possibly known…?
For his part, Ryou just shook even harder at his Yami's reaction, using the doorway's frame to support the overbearing weight, his legs nearly giving out beneath him with sudden exhaustion.
Finally, when he could stand it no longer, he bit his lip in silent resolution, wondering if he even dared… On the brink of collapsing though, he managed to gather whatever nerves remained in an attempt to bring his other back to the present.
"B…Bakura…?" the question stuttered out rather weakly, and he did not know if he would be heard through his other's evident state of shock. He was getting more and more anxious by the minute, frightened witless by the tomb robber's lack of response...
Nothing scared Yami Bakura, nothing, and yet…
When it became apparent, his other half was not by any means going to reply, he tried again, desperately trying to strengthen his words this time. After all, he did not want to end up having to go over there and shake him to his senses, he would no doubt be slapped silly… but if this did not work, he would have no choice…
"Yami!" he practically shouted, a despairing plea; before flinching impulsively, quickly stumbling a few steps back for safety.
The former thief started, looking up at him with disbelief... and horror...
He quickly glanced away again, clenching his teeth with a hiss and tightening his grip on the sheets, knuckles whitening painfully, all the while taking in steadying gasps.
Then, quite suddenly, all traces of previous devastation vanished.
He may have been unnerved at first, but with a miraculous effort, Bakura was able to regain his composure in a matter of moments. He quickly erected mental barriers between himself and his light; and his eyes, hard as the amber they resembled, fixed on Ryou grimly.
He was still stunned to say the least, but he did not seem irate somehow; dubious or perhaps disturbed is better fitting…and he had every right at being troubled by this. After all, it is not everyday your other half waltzes through your room in the middle of the night and announces he's cleverly discovered your well-guarded past.
Ryou faltered at the rapidly changing emotions coming from his Yami and the suddenly blockaded link between them.
He was still waiting for a verbal response.
Well beyond fear now he wondered, not for the first time, what had possessed him to come here. He certainly should not have awakened the spirit of the Millennium Ring over a mere dream, no matter how chillingly vivid it had been… no matter how many scars—mental and physical—he gained from it…
He was wrong, oh yes, he was very wrong to have come here in the first place, even over such a hellish nightmare… He had no right after so long, none whatsoever, to cause his Yami such pain… to remind him of…
He slowly began to back away, to reverse his actions, and growing more and more petrified by the minute as he thought of it. He shook his head in denial, trying to clear, trying his hardest to forget…
He did not know how it was possible that he came to possess someone else's memories; all he really knew for sure was, what he had experienced within his dreams tonight, had been real, at one point or another, for someone.
More likely than not that someone had been Bakura.
Now, he couldn't even close his eyes without recalling torturous, blood-filled images that had been part of his past…
"Yadounshi," a somewhat irritated voice snapped at him, this time Ryou was the one that needed saving from his reveries. Ryou hesitantly tested the link between them, finding it held annoyance and slight… worry...
He should leave, he really should leave; he should just turn around, walk the other way, and go back to his room where he would try to forget everything… yes, that is exactly what he should do…
He wisely chose to evacuate the vicinity then… immediately…
"Come here."
He wanted to cry.
Swallowing at the command, he found he did not trust himself to look directly at his significant other, preferring instead to play with the Ring that forever hung about his neck.
He really should…
"I said 'come here,'" the words were pronounced evenly, as though Ryou was simply too slow to grasp their full meaning, but there was also a harshness, and furthermore, a finality in his tone that brooked against all arguments.
Consequently, the light tentatively took one-step closer to the bed, then two, and then another after that… not once bold enough to look up.
The closer he came to the bed however, the closer he came to anxiety.
He strained valiantly to prevent the tears that threatened to fall against his will, once or twice having to stop and collect himself by inhaling deep and measured breaths before continuing.
The process was a slow and tedious one though and he dreaded more than anything facing Bakura when he finally got there; never before had a room seemed so large to him. It was as though he was on a procession to the gallows and, in many ways, that description fit perfectly.
Inevitably, after what seemed like hours, the foot of the bed appeared within view, next came the side where his Yami sat upright against the pillows.
He came to an abrupt stop and waited, head bowed, discreetly steeling himself for what came subsequently. Be it cruel words or blows for divulging his memories; he prepared for either.
However, neither came, which under normal circumstances would have been terribly confusing enough if not for the other that occurred... The surreal choose to happen in that moment instead, the unpredictable transpired, in turn successfully bringing about the beginning of his heart's confusion…
"Hikari, look at me," was the first demand given when he arrived, as was expected, but Ryou just shook his head in the negative. There was absolutely no way he would be able to face him after… after seeing what he had…he couldn't just…
A solitary teardrop trailed its way down his cheek, unnoticed until someone unexpectedly wiped it away.
Suddenly two strong and very possessive arms, instead of striking him, wrapped tightly around his waist, enclosing him in an iron embrace that sanctioned against resistance.
Slowly, so as not to alarm the smaller boy, the arms brought him to rest in the guardianship of a firm and decidedly bare chest.
Startled, Ryou's throat sensibly chose that moment to go dry and, quite understandably, it took all his efforts not to squeal in surprise.
What the...?
Bakura was hugging him!
This could not be happening; this went beyond impossibility!
His yami would never hug anyone and Ryou was sure he would hug even the pharaoh before himself… well maybe not the pharaoh… but it would be close nonetheless.
Bakura hated him! Hated, hated, hated…
He stiffened in the embrace at first but eventually, somehow, relaxed, deciding he would enjoy this for what it was worth…
…and which, to him, that was everything.
The sheer power radiating off his incredibly smooth skin quite literally took his breath away, feelings almost overpowering as he closed his eyes and shivered.
After nearing the cold grasps of death as unwillingly as he had, the warmed flesh beneath him, the undeniable heat of life energy emitting from the tomb robber, all of this was welcomed, appreciated, and what's more eagerly yearned for.
He had anticipated a grip of ice from his Yami; never this... he could never ever have imagined this…
Also, the fact being that it was Bakura where he found comfort actually made it that much more enjoyable somehow, no matter how greatly he would pay for this endearment later…
Somewhere in the back recesses of his mind, he fleetingly felt himself pulled onto the bed, further calming down in his Yami's grasp; everything else just seemed to leave him as his heavy breathing finally slowed and heartbeats returned to normal.
Surprisingly, for the first time since his terrible dreams, he felt at peace.
Bakura gently lowered his head until it rested atop Ryou's soft hair. He hesitated a moment, rather unsure of how to proceed, until he settled on stroking the white tresses gently.
He was uncomfortable to say the least; being unaccustomed of having to act this way, it was simply not in his natural temperament to do so.
That was an understatement.
Why was he doing this anyway?
He originally had acted without thinking and his mind now searched frantically for the answer.
Because his image was of a lesser importance now, paling in comparison to what he must accomplish here.
If a 'soothing presence' reassured his Hikari enough to speak of the ordeal, then he would reluctantly become so. He knew Ryou was far too scared any other way to respond any other way, too terrified of him, and the rest of the world could go to hell in the mean time if they disagreed for all he cared.
What was essential now was the way the darkness seemed to be closing in around Ryou completely, surrounding his light. He could see it clearly writhing, churning, and seeping into Ryou deeper, nearly threatening to consume him, to destroy him and this… concerned him… yes, that was it... that was all this was… concern.
Or perhaps a touch of fear that he too would turn…
One way or another he would not let that happen.
Thus, the restless need to know what happened within his Hikari to create such a disturbance surpassed all else for the time being.
Speaking quietly, not wanting to disturb the sudden calm that had settled around them, he asked what he knew to be crucial to Ryou's survival…
"How did you know?" He kept his voice emotionless, hollow within his own ears, and revealing nothing of the impending danger.
For a time, his Hikari remained silent, contemplating on just how much to reveal…
Ryou knew that he would never willing hurt his Yami, no matter what he had done in the past, he was incapable of doing so, but he also understood that saying too little would only serve to upset him more.
Bakura closed his eyes, grimacing slightly before he reopened them; he knew the reason for his light's indecision...he was, after all, the cause of it. Ryou was no doubt confused, expecting little more than apathy from him, could he not see this case was different…
This was the one exception…
Easily taking Ryou's chin into his own hand, he firmly lifted until large chocolate brown eyes met his own smoldering ones.
"Please tell me," he urged quietly, earnestly, this time trying to keep the force from his words.
For once, he had no desire to frighten him further.
That was all it took, the entreaty was Ryou's undoing, and he really did not want to keep to this to himself any longer; he burrowed into his Yami's chest with the slightest whimper, and then shakily began…