Eek! Sorrysorrysorry for taking so long to update! hangs self Thank you everyone that left a review, and to those that enquired about Hikarism, simply send me an email (address is in my profile) and I'll give you details!

Now, on with the fic!


"So where do we want to go first?"

Masika, closely followed by Bakura and Lateef, was leading the troupe through the palace's corridors, ducking into quieter passages where she could so as to reduce the group's chances of being spotted. Through sheer weight of numbers alone – her, Lateef, Bakura, Yugi, Yami, Adair and Akemi – there was no chance that they'd be able to convince any guards that they were supposed to be there. Coupling that with the fact that Bakura was a wanted criminal, if not the wanted criminal, that the Pharaoh was amongst them and that Adair and Akemi were clearly just peasants – Yugi and Lateef were still in their slave clothing – the group stood out like a Pyramid on the Saqqara plains.

"Wherever Malik's being held," Yami called from the rear. "We could use the back-up, and it's better that we get to him sooner rather than later." Bakura grunted his approval of this suggestion, and Masika nodded, leading the group down a new series of tunnels.

"I swear," Bakura growled to Lateef warningly as they hurried along. "If they've already killed him, and we missed our chance because you took so long to get us in here..."

Masika suddenly stopped right where she was, causing Bakura and Lateef to almost cannon into her. Spinning round, she fixed the tomb robber with a glare. "Leave him alone!" she hissed, standing nose to nose with the thief. "It's solely because of him that you got in here in the first place! Without him getting me to help you, you'd all have been swamped by guards a long time ago!" Masika leaned even closer to Bakura, and the thief actually shrank back a little in worry. There was something so feral about her anger, so like the great cats of the desert, that he couldn't help wondering if there was someone else behind her granting her extra ferocity. Given that she wore the pendant of Bastet – he'd noted that earlier – it probably shouldn't have been as surprising as it was. [1] "I bet you don't even know where the cells are, do you?" At Bakura's shaking of his head in response, Masika backed down again, smiling sweetly and shaking her hair about a little as if shaking off the animosity. "Well then, let's carry on, shall we?"

Spinning on the spot, she turned and continued on down the corridors, leaving Bakura and Lateef to stare at each other, stunned.

"She's not human," Bakura breathed, his eyes still wide from shock. "No human could be that frightening."

"She's a girl," Lateef replied quietly. "They do that. They're very good at it."

In silence, the troupe began following Masika once more.


"He'll be down there," Masika stated quietly as she stood at the top of the stairs that led to the cells under the sand outside the palace. "That's where they keep all the notable prisoners. Set had it built after you left, Pharaoh." The girl shivered slightly, before continuing to speak. "I went down there once, to see what it was like..." Masika trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. The haunted look on her face told that it hadn't been pretty though.

"So let's go then," Bakura stated, beginning to barge his way past Masika in his hurry. However, Yami caught his shoulder and hauled him back.

"Let her go down first," he stated. "She can give us some idea of how many are in there, ad they'd be less likely to attack her."

Bakura turned to glare at Yami, his voice a low and angry hiss. "Do you plan to actually let me do anything to rescue my boyfriend, or am I supposed to just stand and cheer you all on?"

Yami met Bakura's glare with one of his own, as icy-cold as when he had been Pharaoh previously, and for a moment Yugi worried that their alliance might have been broken there and then. "I am Pharaoh," Yami hissed back. "You do what I tell you, when I tell you. Right now, I'm telling you to wait. Later, when I tell you to fight, I expect you to be an unstoppable one-man army. Am I making myself clear?"

Bakura's glare darkened even further, the blackened hatred radiating from his face a direct contrast to the cold, crystalline sparkle in Yami's eyes. "'When' you tell me?" he growled. "What if I don't want to by then?"

If this implied threat bothered Yami, he didn't show it. In fact, if anything it seemed to amuse him. "I don't think that's too likely," he replied bluntly.

"And what makes you so confident?"

"The fact that Malik will be alive and at the other end of the room."

A lengthy pause issued from the self-proclaimed King of Thieves. "...so why is the girl still staring at us and not scouting then?"

At a nod from Yami, a smile on his face at this tactful admission of defeat from Bakura, Masika turned and began quietly down the stairs, closely trailed by Lateef. As scared as he was, he didn't intend to let Masu go down on her own. Not with the unknown facing them.


Masika peered cautiously round the corner, ready to duck her head back at the slightest hint that someone might look toward her. Oddly, though, it seemed as if the passage was deserted. A frown on her face and her lips pursed, Masika deftly slipped around the corner, followed by her companion. Their footsteps rang eerily as they made their way forward, the light scuffing sounds echoing off the walls with incredible ease. Something seemed off about the silence that had engulfed them once they'd entered the tunnel. It was as if it were being forced, like it wasn't a natural silence. It was as if...

"Masu!" Lateef hissed almost impossibly quietly. "I think there's someone-"

The sound of a stone clattering across the floor made them both spin round, and their eyes opened wide in fear. Taking in the guard before him, Lateef took a step back, standing directly in front of Masika, determined to protect her. The fact that he was visibly shaking didn't help their cause, of course.


Yami glanced toward Bakura, his face deadly serious but his eyes smirking. "Now you can go and fight."


Lateef and Masika both backed up slowly as the guard bore down on them, being careful not to move too far in case they alerted another guard, but at the same time trying to keep their distance from the first one. Lateef kept his arms spread wide and swept back behind him, doing his best to shield Masika, but knew that if the guard actually tried anything, there was very little he'd actually be able to offer by way of defence. To say the situation was bleak would be like remarking that the desert was 'quite warm.'

Suddenly, the guard let out a bellow of pain, sinking to one knee and reaching behind him, pulling a length of metal with a point at one end out of his leg. Over the guard's shoulder, Lateef spotted a very welcome figure.

Bakura strode forward with a smirk, the rest of their party behind him, and grabbed the guard by his hair, tipping his head back and pressing a knife to his throat. "Listen carefully," he hissed, his eyes hardened with anger. "I don't want to have to kill you. I don't what to put anyone else through what I put Malik through. But so my lord Ra shall help me, I will if I have to, you understand?"

The frightened bleat in response was confirmation enough that the guard understood very well. Carefully placing one knee against the guard's spine to restrict his movement should he stupidly try anything, Bakura directed his attention to Yami. "So what now?"

The Pharaoh's gaze drifted from Bakura's face to over Bakura's shoulder. "We have a problem..."

Again, this could be termed quite a large understatement. From ahead in the passage a large number of guards had appeared, weapons drawn, attracted by their companion's scream. In a more open field – with Malik to back them up and room to move – they might stand a chance. As it was, only Yami and Bakura could fight, and they had no space in which to out-manoeuvre their enemies.

"A big problem."

Bakura spun round, dragging Lateef and Masika out of the way, and kicked the guard he'd been holding down to the floor, backing off and drawing a knife for each hand. Certain death or not, Bakura intended to fight. Yami guided Lateef and Masika further back, pulling out his trusted axe – the same as had been used in the attempt to rescue Yugi – and stood by Bakura's side, their alliance very much in tact. "Bakura, you remember I told you I wanted you to be a one-man army?"

"I know! You'd best lead by example, Pharaoh!"

"I wouldn't expect you to ask anything other!"

A clamour of footsteps came from the stairs behind them, and the five non-fighters spun round in panic, not sure what to do. If they had to fight, they'd do it bare-handed. It'd mean death, but maybe it'd buy Yami and Bakura enough time.

In the commotion, no-one saw Yugi's small hand gesture. Nor did they hear his quiet prayer uttered to the Gods.

"What's going on here?!"

Jounouchi's voice rang out from the stairs and down the corridor, each man freezing and directing their attention to the fair-haired man and his darker-haired second. Barely pausing for a second, Jou stepped down from the stairwell, the small mob at the bottom parting for him, and made his way over to stand between the Pharaoh and the guards. "Why are you challenging him?!" he demanded of his men.

A voice spoke up from somewhere in the middle of the crowd. "Lord Set commanded us to defend the prisoner at all costs!"

This time, Honda spoke up, his voice practically biting at whoever had launched such a feeble defence. "When you became a guard, who did you swear your loyalty to?" he snapped.

Another guard spoke up, his voice shaky. "...the Pharaoh..."

"And who is stood before you?"

Not awaiting an answer, Jou and Honda turned as one to face their master, kneeling before him and touching their foreheads to the floor in the usual mark of respect. "My Lord," they both stated as one. "Please forgive our men, for they have been misguided."

From behind them came the sound of weapons being reluctantly lowered to the floor, the guards one by one taking the lead from their chiefs and bowing down, recognising their duty to the true lord of the two lands. "Oh Mighty Pharaoh," they chorused as one, almost trembling with fear on the spot.

Yami paused for a moment, surveying them all awaiting his command. He was beginning to get his power back, and he was enjoying that old feeling once more. "Up, all of you," he stated. "We can't afford to waste time. Yugi and I must reclaim my throne."

Jou and Honda both as one took a step back, their faces stunned. "Y... Yugi?" Jou stuttered. "But... Set executed him..."

Yami gestured to the crowd behind him, where Yugi had stepped forward at hearing his name. "I'll explain once we have rescued Malik and regained my throne," he stated. "For now, there are more important matters."

Honda, blinking slowly, stepped forward and gradually passed Yami, respectfully facing toward him the whole time until he was behind him, and slowly made his way toward the little one. "Are... are you truly Yugi, whom our Lord professed to love over a year ago?"

Yugi nodded in reply to this. "He professed a year ago, he professed a week ago, and he will profess now if you need to hear it," he spoke softly. "My Lord loves me, and I love him."

Honda paused, his eyes lowered as he digested this information. "If this is true..." he murmured. "...then I owe you my allegiance also." Much to Yugi's surprise, Honda knelt down on one knee before him, his head bowed and his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Oh Mighty Prince," he uttered, keeping his gaze floorward. "To you, I swear the same oath I took for the Pharaoh. Your word is my duty."

From up the corridor came a general shuffle as the guards dropped to their knees again, this time facing toward Yugi, who looked quite flustered at this sudden high treatment. A general murmur signified that each and every man in the passage was making that same oath, to fight for Yugi as fiercely as they would their lord.

"Up, up!" Yami repeated, with half a mind to haul them up himself if need be. "We don't have time for this!" Swiftly, Yami resumed his role as leader, sending his troops out to battle. "You five," he commanded, singling out five guards. "Take those four-" At this, he gestured to Lateef, Masika, Adair and Akemi. "-somewhere safe. I don't want them getting hurt, understood?" The five bowed in acknowledgement of this order, and moved with surprising speed toward the four, two guards leading them up the stairwell, one in the middle and two behind. Satisfied, Yami resumed his directions. "You five," Yami called, picking out more of the remaining guards. "You will accompany Bakura to rescue Malik. His word is to be treated as my word, you understand?" All five bowed, and stepped aside to grant Bakura passage. "The rest of you," Yami continued. "Are to go out into the city, and order the people to prepare a festival to be held in one week. Tell them the Pharaoh has returned." The remaining guards bowed and hurried up the stairwell, eager to spread the good news to the long-suffering people.

"And what of us, oh mighty Pharaoh?" Jou asked. "What are mine and Honda's orders to be?"

"You two," Yami replied. "Are to escort me personally to the throne room, and aid me in Set's arrest."

Jou and Honda both as one looked utterly stunned – or at least as stunned as they had been earlier. "M... my lord..." Honda stammered, dropping down on one knee, followed by Jounouchi. "You honour us!"

Yami waved the two back to their feet. "I may find a promotion for you yet if you do your job well. Show me my faith isn't misplaced." Yami gave a nod to Bakura – having picked up the commoners' habit – and grinned. "See you both later."

Bakura nodded in reply, a smirk also on his face, and ran down the corridor, his personal retinue following behind him.

Yami turned and walked calmly to Yugi, the younger smiling up at him as he took his hand. An adoring gaze shining down on the boy, Yami's voice returned to the softer tone it had become more accustomed to. "Shall we?"


"You understand me?" Bakura called over his shoulder as they neared the end of the passage. "We are not to kill them unless they try to kill us first! If possible, just knock them unconscious!"

A series of grunted replies confirmed that the guards understood and accepted this order, even if they didn't know exactly why such an odd battle plan had been issued. However, Bakura's word was the Pharaoh's, and so what he said went unquestioningly.

Nodding his approval, Bakura continued his charge down the hallway, skidding to a halt as the group burst into a large room. Bakura almost gagged as a vile stench hit him, and he turned to the guards, covering his nose loosely with his hand until he could grow accustomed to the smell. "What the hell is that?!"

"That," one of them replied – the one Bakura had spared earlier – "Is the smell of the High Priest's dungeons."

Bakura coughed as he inhaled a little too deeply, his stomach turning a loop, and gazed round at the mess on all sides of him in disgust. The vile odour of death pervaded the air itself, seeping into the walls and corrupting the clothes Bakura wore. Dotted about the floor were varying lumps of what Bakura assumed was once human flesh, and he couldn't help noticing the ropes and manacles strewn about the room, as well as various implements that looked as though they'd been created by some of the sickest minds in the known world. The thought that Malik had even been led through here, never mind forced to endure this treatment, was enough to make Bakura's blood boil. "Onward," he growled, his hand dropping away from his face and drawing his blade. His guards followed his lead, their swords drawn almost simultaneously, and Bakura led them across the room.

Sure enough, beyond the next doorway came the expected band of guards - ten of them, by Bakura's reckoning. Bakura didn't have the time nor patience to fight right now though.

"Stand down!" he commanded. "My word is as the Pharaoh's, and you must obey!"

The guards simply stared at him, and a couple sniggered. "Oh really?" one of them taunted. "And why should that bother us?"

Bakura's eyes narrowed. He hated having to take other people's lines, but he had to admit Jou and Honda had done it with some style. "Who did you swear your oath of allegiance to, you fools?"

The reply was monotone and blunt. "Not the Pharaoh."

"...crap."

Bakura swiftly pulled his spare blade out – the weapon he'd been designing in the house, that Yami had ridiculed – and tossed it in the air, passing his first blade to his weaker hand and catching the superior one in his stronger. Battle was inevitable, and he'd be damned if he was going in unprepared.


Yugi and Yami stood outside the Throne Room doors, the Pharaoh pausing momentarily to calm himself totally. Now of all times, he couldn't risk running on emotion instead of logic and making a bad judgement. He stared up at the mighty wooden entrance, the bronze hinges that stretched almost the width of each door framing some of the most intricate carving in the land, each sectioned area a tale of his ancestors. Tales of war; of justice; of wisdom and bravery adorned the entire surface of each door, but for a small space in the bottom right corner. There, the mighty Pharaoh Yamises was to have his tale told, his legend to be passed down to his children's children and beyond, his name – and so he – immortalised for all time. Running his fingers over the smooth surface, Yami let out a long, calming sigh. This space was his by birthright. He couldn't give it up to Set or anyone else. Every mighty king before him was watching him now, eager to see what had become of their descendant, and he couldn't let them down.

"Yami..."

Yugi's voice came to Yami's ears so softly, it was almost as if he'd merely breathed his name, instead of saying it. Letting his fingers touch the surface once more, stroking it as he turned, the Pharaoh directed his attention to his younger lover, an inquisitive look in his noble eyes. "What is it, Yugi?"

"Yami, there's... I have to tell you something, and it might be my last chance to... but you need to know, I do know who my father is. He's-"

Confused, Yami cut Yugi off mid-sentence. He hadn't heard anything of what Yugi had said after 'my last chance to,' those words instead crashing round in his head like the echo of a pillar fallen in a long-forgotten tomb. "Wait... what do you mean? Why are you talking like you're-"

Sadly, Yugi stepped forward and placed a hand on Yami's shoulder, staring up at him imploringly, silencing the Pharaoh with his gentle touch. For the first time ever, Yami realised just how small Yugi's hands really were. Reaching up, he gently took the limb in his own, softly rubbing the back of it with his thumb. It felt as if he were holding a child's hand, not a God's. The poor boy was so gentle, so frail... All he'd ever wanted was to love Yami. He hadn't wanted any of this. He hadn't wanted to die; to fight; to have to risk his life to see Yami in his rightful place. He'd just wanted what was best for everyone else. And his love for Yami meant that he'd go to any length to see that Yami's people were happy again.

"Just remember, Yami..." Yugi whispered softly, smiling up at his elder with a light sheen in his eyes. "No matter what happens, I'll always love you." As if to seal the vow, Yugi tip-toed up and pressed his lips against Yami's, sighing softly as the Pharaoh's arms instinctively slipped round him in a protective embrace. He slowly lowered himself from his love again, and smiled once more, a determined look in his eyes as a grin crossed his face. "Now let's go get your throne back!"


Bakura sidestepped the guard's attack with ease. The palace guards were better fighters than these guys, but they had the advantage of numbers. With Malik here, the numbers wouldn't have even remotely posed a problem, but Bakura was currently trying to compensate for the four-man handicap by himself without resorting to bloodshed. As another blade swung wildly through the air, Bakura parried it with his weapon and brought his knee up into the guard's gut, the man having left himself exposed for an easy shot. Winded, he dropped the floor, and Bakura took the opportunity to drive his foot into the side of his head, knocking him out cold. "One down!" he yelled to his men, before quietly cursing under his breath as he narrowly avoided a spear in the face. Stepping back, he snatched at the weapon, battling for supremacy with the guard holding it.

Behind him, he heard a heavy thud as another body dropped to the floor. "Two, sir!" came a voice, before the clang of metal on metal told Bakura that the guard had almost let his defence down too. "Focus!" he yelled, gritting his teeth as the guard he was grappling with began to overpower him, using his weight advantage for extra leverage. "Fuck..." Bakura grunted, his arm muscles beginning the feel the strain as the guard leaned further forward. He could only see one valid escape now... but if it worked in that first rescue effort, maybe a quick bit of possum-play would do the job again.

Bakura allowed his legs to buckle beneath him, holding the spear as he dropped to the floor. The guard, not expecting this, fell with him, which was exactly what Bakura had banked on. With a snake-like motion, his right arm darted across his chest, taking the spear with it and smashing it into the guard's temple. The momentum caused them to rotate, and the two landed next to each other, the guard letting go of the spear as the impact dazed him further.

Clambering to his feet, Bakura dropped both his blades and picked the spear up in two hands. "Fucker!" he yelled, before swinging the spear down and breaking the thick wooden shaft over the back of the guard's head. "And that's three..." Bakura panted, tossing the piece of the shaft he still held aside. Bending down to pick up his new weapon again, leaving his other hand free to act as a fist, Bakura rejoined the battle with a gleeful whoop. 'If you have to fight, you may as well enjoy yourself' Bakura told himself as he drove the pommel of his weapon into the back of an unsuspecting guard's skull. Now that the numbers were equal, the battle would be over very quickly.


"You guys ties these lot up," Bakura commanded once the last man had fallen. "I don't want them to escape. If they wake up in the meantime, knock them out again."

The guards that stood with him nodded their agreement, but for one who was clutching his shoulder, which looked to be bleeding badly. Bakura observed this for a moment, and added, "One of you sort him out first. The rest of you can get going now."

With that, the thief turned and ran from the room, through the door the guards had been watching. "Malik!" he cried, his legs pumping furiously as he sprinted past cell after empty cell. "Malik, where are you?"

In the corner of one cell, Bakura peripherally caught a form slumped on the floor, and skidded to a stop before turning back and peering through the little window at it. What little clothing the figure had left was bloodied and torn, and his body was covered in bruises and lacerations where he'd been badly treated. He faced the wall, as if deliberately hiding his face, and was curled in the foetal position. Bakura felt his heart sink as he recognised the long, platinum-blonde hair that was fanned across the floor behind the figure.

"Malik!" he cried. "Malik, get up!"

The figure didn't move. Staring, Bakura couldn't even see his chest rising and falling. With a half-wail, half-snarl of frantic worry, Bakura slipped back the bolts on the door and wrenched it open, darting in and scooping the figure up in his arms.

"Malik!" he gasped, shaking the boy lightly. "Malik, wake up!"

Nothing. His chest wasn't moving, and when Bakura placed his cheek over the boy's mouth, he couldn't feel any breaths against it. "No..." he whispered, drawing back and shaking his head softly. "No... he can't be..." Bakura lowered Malik back to the floor and crawled away, shaking his head softly. "Malik... you can't..."

"I guess the bitch couldn't hold out after all."

Immediately, Bakura's vision flashed blood-red. Not even looking at the doorway, where the voice had come from, Bakura reached into his robes, his fingers wrapping round the knife Malik had bought for him – the very knife he had planned to take his own life with earlier – and tugging it out. He'd not wanted to bloody it with the shit that pumped through the veins of these guards, but right now revenge was all that was on his mind. With a yell of rage, Bakura spun round, flinging the knife with deadly accuracy at the hooded figure in the entrance.

A loud crack ensued as the blade pierced the man's sternum, sinking through into his heart. The man stood swaying for a couple of seconds, making a pained, gargled choking sound, before tipping over backwards, his body limp as he crashed to the floor. After that, he didn't even twitch. He was stone dead, right there and then.

Panting his rage away for a couple of seconds, Bakura glowered at the figure before him. The hatred he felt for him was the same as what he'd felt for Tuthmises when he'd had Ryou executed. He wanted to take the body, mutilate it, destroy it, tear it up, burn it, ensure there was nothing left to sustain the man's soul in the afterlife... but he couldn't. That wouldn't achieve anything. It wouldn't bring Malik back.

Bakura, still on his knees, turned to face Malik's body again, crawling over and scooping him up gently, pulling him close against his chest. "Oh, Malik..." he whispered, a tear slipping from his eye. "I'm so sorry... for your father, for this... for everything. I'm so sorry..." At that, Bakura broke down, sobbing into Malik's hair and pulling the prone figure tight against his chest. "I'm so sorry Malik!" he cried out, before turning his head to the heavens, his cheeks two rivers of tears as he pleaded desperately. "What can I do to bring him back? What God should I pray to? What sacrifice should I make? Please, don't take him from me!" Bakura felt his strength seeping from him, and he slumped forward again, cradling Malik's head against his shoulder softly. "Oh Malik..." he whispered. "What can I do to have you back...?"

Unseen to Bakura, one of Malik's eyes cracked open. "Letting me go on top tonight would be a good start..."

Bakura leapt back with a shriek at the unexpected reply, dropping Malik in the process. "Malik!" he cried out, staring wide-eyed at the boy on the floor. "You... You're alive?!"

Wincing, Malik rubbed at his head. "The sudden pain would indicate as much, yes... Great to see you too..."

Bakura gaped at Malik, not believing his eyes. "But... but you weren't... I checked, and... But... you were dead Malik, I checked..."

Malik, with a little effort, pushed himself into a sitting position. "No, you checked I wasn't breathing. Anyone can hold their breath." With a grin, Malik extended an arm out and placed two fingers on the wrist. "Pulse, Bakura. No-one can lie about that."

Still dumbfounded, Bakura stared at Malik. "You're... really alive..." he whispered, as if testing how the words sounded to him. Suddenly, his mouth broke into a wide grin, and he flung himself at Malik with a cry of delight. "You're really alive!"

Laughing, Malik hugged the tomb robber with all his might, squeezing the breath out of him. "Gods, I've missed you..." he whispered, not easing up. "I've missed you so much..."

Gasping a weak laugh, Bakura returned Malik's death-grip, nuzzling his head against the boy's chest. "I've missed you too," he whispered. Smiling, he lifted his head and softly pressed his lips to Malik's, never so glad to have the boy in his arms in his life. "Now come on. We have to go help Yami."

"...why?" Malik asked, frowning.

"Because he's taking his throne back!"


The throne room doors swung open with a mighty crash, and the Pharaoh's booming voice filled the air once more.
"Set!"


[1] Bastet (Bast) – Ancient Egyptian cat goddess of the sun. Daughter of Ra, renowned for her strength and agility. Also known for her ferocity when defending her father.


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