Disclaimer: Forgive me. Please please please PLEASE forgive me. I understand that I haven't updated in… well, ages, but I'm gonna do my best to have more of the story up and running for you all. I'm in college now and am in an English Lit. class, therefore, I'll be writing a lot… thus, story. I know it's kind of weird and kind of a new idea, but keep in mind this is a kind of sequel if you will. I hope everyone is still reading this…
How long has it been since that time? How many endless days and sleepless nights have passed since I last laid eyes on your flawless face?
The young Pharaoh breathed deeply, inhaling the cool night air into his burning lungs. His eyes rested wearily on the immeasurable amount of royal documents before him, wondering where exactly they wanted him to start. Resting his face on his free hand, his eyes began to blur, sleep finally catching up with his tired soul. His lean body slumped forward, no longer able to stay erect.
A young priest marched through the palace, his steps lively and urgent, echoing throughout the vast halls. A look of determination on his face, he surveyed the scenery around him. Sleeping guards… he glared at them, disgusted by their lack of enthusiasm.
"Filthy sons of the Devouress! Have you no common sense? We're in a god damned war here! Would you so easily let an enemy spy into the palace to kill the Golden One? Open your eyes and do your damned jobs, fools!" he hissed, turning heads from wandering members of the court. The guards immediately snapped to their feet, sheepishly gazing at the floor.
Rolling his eyes skyward, the man continued on, his steps now quicker. Thanks to those idiots, he was now even later than he originally was. As he approached the main hall, his palms began to sweat slightly. It was he who would have to give Pharaoh the news that the troops sent to invade Syria had been annihilated.
Yami glanced up as he walked into the room. Immediately, Pharaoh's eyes lit up and a small boyish grin passed his face. Quickly raising himself into a standing position, Yami walked towards the priest, his arms outstretched in welcome.
"Seto! You bring me news of the invasion progress, yes?" he asked, his eyes sparkling in anticipation. Seto laughed nervously, dropping to his knees, bowing before his King. Yami looked down, a small grin again passing his face.
"Seto, you need not bow to me, dear cousin." Seto glanced up nervously, wiping his palms on his shift nervously.
"Golden One… the invasion has failed. The troops… they have all been destroyed." Seto whispered, his voice faltering. Yami's eyes widened, a look of horror replacing his grin. Seto looked up at him, his eyes sympathetic.
"…Syria sent a messenger. Yami… cousin… we are at war."
'God damned war…' A white haired thief moved silently through the streets of Thebes. He hadn't eaten for several days and his thirst was driving him mad.
Snatching a shriveled fruit from a nearby stand, he bit down, longing for the fresh stolen goods he had so carelessly taken for granted.
Why had he even bothered coming back to this cursed city? It was pointless to assume that bastard brat wanted anything to do with him anymore… Why bother trying to understand what his holiness was thinking?
Bakura wiped sweat from his forehead, glaring up at the relentless Egyptian sun. Fuck Thebes. Fuck that brat, Yami. He didn't care what anyone thought of him until that stupid child showed up, and now he was a royal mess. Not to mention the war that Yami had started with Syria. Why would he do something so fucking stupid?
And as if to taunt him, he was alarmed by the sound of royal trumpets sounding around the corner.
The sound of little feet running echoed through the royal palace. Two children ran through the halls, giggling as they engaged in a game of tag. The taller, brown haired child tripped and practically fell, but regained balance and jumped away just as the other child caught up to him.
"Seto! You can't get away from me! I'll catch you this time!", the younger boy called, his eyes glittering with amusement. Seto turned back to the young son of the Living God, a grin spread across his broad face.
"I'd like to see you try, Yami! You've been 'it' for almost an hour now!" he yelled back laughingly. Yami stopped in his tracks and put on a pout, crossing his arms and glaring at his older cousin. Seto slowly stopped, the grin fading.
"You always win these games, Seto… Shouldn't the son of a God have a bit more luck?" tears welled up in Yami's eyes, a sniffle escaping his tiny body. Seto sighed softly and walked back to the boy's side.
"Yami… It is only because I am older and have longer legs… Don't worry, you shall best me someday…"
"TAG, YOU'RE IT!" Yami cried, quickly tapping Seto's shoulder and running off. Seto stopped in mid-sentence, a look of shock and annoyance passing his face. Yami had already barreled off in the other direction, laughing as he looked back at Seto and stuck his tongue out.
"You brat!! That wasn't fair!" Seto yelled, chasing after him.
Yami sat on his throne, silently looking at the men surrounding him. His eyes drifted lazily around the room, focusing on each person in the room for a few seconds.
Kiva, general of the south end troops, sat to his left. Kiva was a large man, his face scarred with the harshness of wars of the past. A large scar ran from his left eye down to his chin on the right side.
Seto, his cousin and High Priest, sat to his right. His cold, blue eyes glared down at the floor, his body rigged with anger. The war was affecting everyone, but Seto had been taking the heat for Yami. It was a very stressful job and he was clearly not sleeping well.
Mahado, his mentor and friend, sat next to Seto, quietly discussing war tactics with Akuzemaru, general of the north end troops.
Yami sighed and clasped his hands together.
"We need to either win this war, or find some way to peacefully withdraw. I understand, it was a stupid idea to try to invade at such a crucial time in the harvest period, but we must find a way around this. We are loosing more and more troops as we speak!" he paused to look around at the men's faces. None seemed too thrilled about the idea of withdrawing.
"I must stress that we cannot send more men. They are needed to continue the harvest. We must find a way to…"
"Pharaoh, if I may interrupt…" Kiva began. Yami's eyes flashed dangerously in his direction and belligerently jumped to his feet, slamming his hands on the table.
"Kiva! You may NEVER interrupt me! I did not give you permission to speak! If I want your opinion I will ASK you for it. DO NOT FORGET YOUR PLACE." Yami growled. Kiva immediately shut his mouth, his eyes quickly moving to the ground. Yami let out a short, exasperated breath, slowly lowering his lean body back into sitting position.
"Now… either we do something about this, or we all suffer…"
Blood… so much… blood… It almost seems… that it flows from the sky…
The ground was littered with Egyptian and Syrian corpses, the remains of a tremendous battle. The sky had darkened to a dull, slate grey and gentle drops of rain began to fall from the threatening clouds.
The smell… the smell of rotting flesh and dried blood hung in the air, the forgiving wind refusing to take it away. And then…
A spear… a knife in the dark… A desperate cry… Long, beautiful white hair floating… and then… Another body sprawled among the rest… Wide… dead… eyes…
Bakura gritted his teeth in silent anger, his eyes narrowing in displeasure. The banners of the Pharaoh bounced high above the city streets and crowds had already begun to gather at the sides of the road.
And there he was. Proud, defiant little bitch… sitting atop his pillar surrounded by his guards. Bakura spit into the dirt, his eyes focused on Yami's tired face. Just as Yami was about to pass by Bakura's position, a young man stepped forward, his fists clenched in fury.
"Your stupid invasion plans killed my father! You bastard! Why did you have to replace your father, you ignorant brat?!" he cried, his eyes welling with tears. "You… you killed him! Just like you did to our country!"
Guards quickly stepped in, and before Yami could say anything, they had already slit the young man's throat. Bakura's eyes widened as he watched the body fall, blood spilling from the wound and splattering his feet. Yami rose in anger, his face torn between anger and disgust.
"I did not order that killing!!" he bellowed. The guards immediately dropped to their knees, bending their heads low to the ground.
"Forgive us, Golden One… He was speaking blasphemy…"
Yami's narrowed eyes drifted through the crowd, surveying the mood. His eyes came to rest on one person, one very familiar person. His eyes widened in disbelief.
There he was: Simple, flawless. In these many months, he hadn't changed. Every line, every curve, every simple beautiful detail was exactly as it had been in his dreams. The world faded… the corpse, the commoners, the guards… They were all background for this one person.
Bakura had taken center stage in Yami's mind. And he stared right back, his eyes narrowing slightly in defiance. He knew. Bakura knew that Yami desperately wanted him… wanted everything about him… wanted to BE him… And he didn't care.
Bakura watched Pharaoh, eagerly wanting to know what he would do. But he didn't move. He didn't even blink. He just stood and stared. Bakura's heart skipped a beat as Yami's eyes met his, the young Pharaoh's face melting, blurring… All he could focus on was those eyes; those innocent, beautifully crafted eyes. And he knew. He knew that Yami wanted him. But that was too easy.
Bakura smirked, waving a little. Yami's eyes widened, his heart racing with fear and excitement. As Yami slowly stepped up to walk forward, his guards stopped him. Yami glared and slapped the guard in front of him.
"Don't you DARE get in my way, bastard! I order you to let me by!!!" he screeched, struggling to walk through the guard's arm. But it was no use. By the time he had gotten through, Bakura was gone, out of sight, but not out of mind…
"Come to me in my dreams… come to me; be with me…"
"You know I can't."
"…But why?"
"Because… we are too different. You know this. You understand this."
"But I don't care… These feelings… they burn inside me, destroying my insides… I want to explode."
"What do you hope for? What do you really want from me?"
"I want you… I want you to love me the way I love you…"
"Is that all?"
"Yes… please… now will you come to me? Darling, I love you…"
"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."
Authors Notes: Eh? Eh? Was it at least okay? And yes, I realize that last line is stolen from "Gone With the Wind". I can just hear Bakura saying that. Try to keep an open mind, it will get more interesting.