(A/N: This one-shot was inspired by the picture and a poem ('Remember Me' by Christina Rosetti) that created on of my past LiveJournal layouts. (It was put together by the divine DeepsenseRemix). Credit also to my buddy Roe for the sentence that led to my full inspiration. This is a Thief Bakura/ Priest Seto fic set in Ancient Egypt. (Priest is Seto is Seth) Pardon my not knowing anything about that age in YGO; semi AU. I am not the owner of anything copyright except my brain. EDIT: Version II. Very few changes, spelling errors corrected, a name issue revised; thanks to demoerin and lucidscreamer at the LiveJournal community ygowritersguild. Thanks also to those who left reviews!)

Stolen Prayers

The day dawned as did any other day, streaking the sky with red and pinkish hues before giving way to the olden orb that passed through the clear-blue sky each and every day. However, to the Pharaoh Atemu, it seemed quite pleasant indeed; almost extra-beautiful, as if the sun were trying to outdo itself. He remarked as much to the servant tailing him,

"It is the perfect day for an execution, you agree?"

The young attendant, a mere lad of fourteen or so, nodded quickly, obviously supposed to agree. He'd been working in the palace for next to all of his life, and had only recently been assigned to the Pharaoh. He was still adjusting to the position, but Atemu liked him.

"Especially one that has been so long in coming," Atemu continued, strolling through the gardens with a certain ease he might not have had a few days earlier, "Exactly how long has this King of Thieves been a problem to us?"

The servant, named Serami, had trouble figuring whether this was a rhetorical question or no, and stammered for a few moments before Atemu laughed lightly and waved his hand in a reassuring gesture.

"Not to worry, the question was not meant to be answered. Though I will breathe much more easily," Atemu's tone darkened considerably, and Serami found himself thankful he was not the object of the Pharaoh's ire, "When that nuisance in finally cut through and done with."

The acolytes of the temple skittered around fearfully, whispering gently to each other behind hands and learning which hallways had been their master's most recent haunting. The High Priest had mood swings quite often, and though they frequently resulted in his loss of temper and someone being non-seriously injured, this flaring anger was to be remembered as the most violent in a long while. Indeed, some of the elder priests could not recall a time when their High Priest had been so infuriated.

So then it was rather not surprising to Seth that he found almost each and every hallway he stormed in to empty, except maybe for the flap of linen around a distant corner, or the light patter of feet hurrying in the opposite direction. Even expected, this frustrated him more. How was he to find a vent for this rage if there was no one to take it out on? In the smallest still-rational portion of his mind, he knew this was unfair, but at the moment, he couldn't care less.

Resisting the urge to scream, he turned on his heel and stalked towards his personal chambers. He knew there he would find an acolyte, for there was always one assigned to be in his room. A part of him may have felt guilty for turning his wrath on such an innocent person, but the presently overwhelming part deemed that if he did not find some sort of release for his anger, he surely would explode.

Ripping back the hangings that were his door, Seth entered his chambers and let his eyes seek out the one who was meant to be there. The softest sound of swishing linen and a pale hand reaching for the shard of a broken vase on the ground gave way to where the acolyte was. Ah pity, and it was one he liked.

Oh well.

"Teppic, why is the vase broken?"

The young acolyte looked up at him with round, fearful eyes, and replied softly, "You startled me, sir, and I dropped it."

"That is a shame." Seth said cruelly, starting across the room towards him. Teppic must have heard about the High Priest's bad mood, for he rose to his feet and backed away slowly, bowing his head as he did so. Seth almost paused to admire the boy; his skin and hair were paler than the norm, very pretty. But no, this was about something else, he couldn't allow himself to be distracted. If he did he would only be more angry later. "You know what happens when you displease me."

"Please have mercy, grace, sanctuary." Teppic was in awe of his master, and that awe bordered in times like these on a debilitating fear. He fell to his knees, shuffling forward to press his forehead to Seth's toes in penance.

Seth kicked him, delighting in how good it felt. "You are an unworthy disciple." He hissed, every word just easing the knot of tension in his lower back, "You have no reason to be here. You are unworthy. You are impure. You will never make it any further than you are now."

Teppic could feel hot tears in his eyes. "Please sir, I have done all I can. I am unworthy, impure, undeserving. Please, teach me."

Seth kicked him once more, watching the smaller body crumple and feeling a sick sort of jubilation at it. "You cannot be taught. You are too hopeless." He turned away, thinking he'd let out enough for the moment, and said softly to the other side of the room, "Teppic, you may now clean up the vase and then you must go fetch the prisoner who is down for execution later today and bring him to me."

Teppic, relieved in that he wasn't going to be killed -which moments ago he'd thought would be welcome- scrambled to do his master's bidding. He thought to ask of why the High Priest needed to see the prisoner, but then decided it must be beyond him as an acolyte and hastily went about the business of cleaning up without question. He shot out of the room moments later, the broken up bits of clay clutched in his hand.

Seth collapsed onto the bed, pressing his hands against his face. He wasn't supposed to use Ra's name in vain but damn. He was frustrated right now, really frustrated. That stupid, over-confident, self-righteous, power-tripping Pharaoh! All day, Seth had been trying to get an audience with him, and all day the Pharaoh had denied him, with no plausible reason. He, the High Priest, barely second to the Pharaoh's authority, denied all access simply to speak with the man.

Seth sighed loudly, the breath hissing out between his clenched teeth. He could not deal with this. He did not want to deal with this. And what the High Priest wanted, the High Priest got, right? Apparently not. A thousand curses on the Pharaoh! A million! As many as could possibly be lain upon one person! He wanted to scream, to kill someone, to do... something. And all things that could be done seemed beyond his reach right now, beyond his ability to do. That was more frustrating than anything else in the world.

It took a moment before he heard the soft voice calling from without his room, "Sir? I have the prisoner here. The guards would speak with you, if that is acceptable."

Seth raised his voice to reply, "It is not. The prisoner will not escape, and if he does, my life is free to take, just as is his sentence."

He could hear discussion going on; this wasn't satisfactory to the guards, and they seemed to be thinking of asking the Pharaoh about this. Oh no. That was the last thing he wanted. The very last thing. He rose and went to the doorway, knowing he likely looked quite dangerous, "You do not have the authority to question my methods. If the Pharaoh wishes to change my own fate should it come to that, which I assure you will not happen, then it will be discussed then. At the moment, I would demand to speak with the prisoner alone. He requires knowledge of the procedure of his execution."

He thought he could indistinctly hear a murmur of, "How much is there to know about being slain?" But the guard at the prisoner's side elbowed him in the stomach and snarled darkly in his ear, something about respecting the honour that was meeting with the High Priest by invitation.

Seth had to fight the urge to smirk. If only the poor, foolish guard knew. "Let the prisoner enter my chambers. You will remain here. He will be returned to you shortly."

Almost huffily, the guard shoved the prisoner through the hangings, muttering darkly to himself. Seth glared at him for a moment, making a note to report his lack of cooperation before reentering his room and saying softly, "Well, King of Thieves? Why did you get yourself caught?"

Bakura looked up at him, having been staring at the floor and replied snappily, "Because I wanted to be killed, of course."

"Did you? You could have asked, I could have taken care of that long ago."

Bakura sighed loudly, "Seth, you can't believe I wanted to be caught."

"No, I can't." Seth rounded on him, tone angry, "I also can't believe why you'd try something so stupid as killing the Pharaoh."

"He deserves it." Bakura snarled immediately, then paused, "That wasn't all I was doing."

"No?" Seth said with light sarcasm, "Were you planning on assassinating the rest of the Priests as well, or perhaps the whole of the royal guard?"

Bakura reached within his robes (strange the guards hadn't stripped him of them; another thing Seth noted to speak out about later) and drew out an item Seth recognized. The High Priest gasped, and Bakura smirked, shoving the item back in the hidden pocket.

"How did you-?"

"I'm not called the King of Thieves for nothing, you know."

"You call yourself that." Seth said, almost fondly.

Bakura heard the note. "Not without reason. I wouldn't give myself airs."

Seth sighed; he couldn't afford to soften right now. "But still; why would you steal the Millennium Ring? What use do you have for it?"

"My own."

"You're not going to say anything are you?"

"What do you expect? Just because I'm going to die doesn't mean I need to reveal all my secrets."

"Bakura, do you want to go back to the cell? Do you want to die?"

"What the hells do you think, Seth?" Bakura's temper flared suddenly, showing he wasn't actually as calm as he pretended to be, "I've not even done half the things I wanted to do. I haven't even managed the one thing that kept me going. As long as the Pharaoh lives, I will not be satisfied with death, you understand me?"

Seth smirked a bit; he'd managed a small victory in this undeclared not-quite-a-battle. "I understand."

"Good."

Seth seated himself on his bed, wondering what direction he wanted to push this is. He honestly didn't want to argue with Bakura; if they weren't going to see each other beyond this, it was never good to part on a bad note. "Are you afraid?"

Bakura looked at him again, seeming to be deciding whether to give a caustic response or to reply honestly. It took a moment for him to decide. "… Who wouldn't be?" He sighed a bit, putting hand on his neck, "I've been wondering what it will feel like to have an axe-blade slice through here."

Seth looked like he was about to speak, but Bakura cut him off, "You can't imagine it, can you? You'll never be sentenced to die. You're too important. No matter what, you won't die this way. You might not think about it, but it's comforting to know it just the same, isn't it? Whereas I've known for ages I was marked to die like this. It was just my being elusive that kept me alive. This has been a long time in coming, Seth. I've had time to get over any fears I might have had."

"I understand." Seth repeated softly, "You make sense."

"I've had a long time to think about it." Bakura was descending into a dark mood again, meaning his next response could be predicted as sarcastic. Seth tried anyway,

"Is there anything you want? I mean that in the sense of anything I could give, I would let you have. You deserve, even with all the flaws you may have, something to give you happiness before your death."

Bakura chuckled a bit, "You're so blunt. At least you've accepted it now. Before you looked as if you would have killed me yourself."

"I couldn't let you die while being angry with you."

Bakura looked at him, his head sort of cocked to one side. Without saying anything, he crossed the room and crawled onto the bed alongside Seth, resting his head on the High Priest's chest. There was no need to speak; Seth's fingers wove into Bakura's hair, and they rested like that for several moments, each savouring the other's body heat. It was their last moment.

The sun was inching towards its highest point, causing sweat to bead on the forehead of anyone who happened to be standing out of doors. In the case of this day, it was nearly everyone; as many people as could fit in the square and on any free space in general had come to see the execution of the King of Thieves who'd plagued them for months.

Seth was there; he had to be, not that he entirely wanted to. He would have gladly come up with any excuse not to be there, but for one he doubted the Pharaoh would appreciate that and for another, he didn't think he'd be able to deal with his decision later on. He needed to see this happen, to believe it. He wouldn't otherwise.

Bakura stood flanked by two guards, his hands and ankles bound in rough rope, his head bowed. He really seemed to have given up any thought of survival. It was… saddening, to Seth, to see him broken like that. He'd been such a strong spirit.

Atemu seemed to be trying not to look pleased. Seth really couldn't blame him; the Pharaoh loathed the King of Thieves almost as much as Bakura hated him. And yet if Atemu looked too pleased about this execution, whispered rumours would name him blood-thirsty and cruel, and that would not at all be a good thing. Risk his reign for the sake of the Thief King? Not a chance.

There was someone yelling the details to the masses, but the words were indistinct where the higher class people were arrayed. Seth didn't even know they were talking. He couldn't hear them. He knew he was staring at Bakura in a way that hardly seemed appropriate (at least to him), but everyone else was too, so it wasn't particularly noticeable.

Fleetingly, Seth thought of trying to speak with the Pharaoh, something about disapproval by the gods or bad omens or some other thing he could rightly say as a Priest. But no, he… couldn't do that. He didn't know why. He just felt that he couldn't.

There was a moment, right after the herald had finished listing all of Bakura's sins and just before the guards forced Bakura onto his knees, that burned into Seth's mind. The King of Thieves looked up, scanned the crowd for a moment, then met eyes with the High Priest. And he smiled sadly before the guard shoved him roughly to the ground, and the executioner came up behind him with the axe at ready. It looked like a newly-imported axe, shining with the metal bounty harvested from countries within Egypt's empire.

Seth could feel the earth on Bakura's cheek. He could feel his heart pounding in time with the Tomb Robber's. He could feel his nerves –no, their nerves- tense as the executioner raised his axe in the air, and the sun flashed across the edge.

The axe fell without a sound.

Seth's stomach wrenched, but he held his ground. There was a moment of split silence, when not even a breath could be heard. Then from the back of the gathered a low rumble started, and it mounted and grew as the people towards the front joined in. Free! They were finally free of that menace! Great celebrations could go on this evening, so long as all the work was finished. The cries eventually dwindled to but a few hoarse voices and soon thereafter, the crowds started turning away and returning to their daily activities, and then the nobility from the palace went too and no one was left but the circling scavengers who descended to begin picking at the body.

No one had seen the center of the Millennium Ring glow briefly, as if hope still lived for this soul. No one had seen the single tear slip from Bakura's eye, as if in apology for all he'd done. Or perhaps… in regret for not having finished his business.