"Are you happy now?"
Ryou had asked him that hours ago, a mere, shy enquirment inpassing that had seemingly been dismissed as nothing.
The thought swirled idly across the back of his mind as he crept stealthily through dark, cavernous corridors, his soft footsteps echoing faintly off of the cracked stone walls. Damned boots... It was so much easier to get where one wanted to go without drawing un-due attention without having to worry about the amount of noise you were making while -walking-. The urge to go without was intensifying, but what logic insisted that the concequences of such an action would outway any possible gain, even if the footwear did lead him to possibly being apprehended by patrolling guards.
Was he happy? Was he hell. Eyes the colour of molten crimson narrowed in tightly restrained fury, glaring hard as he paused in front of the polished and white-washed door that stood in his way. Perhaps he would find some semblance of happyness if his goals were finally achieved? Perhaps he would find this semblance if he had been lain to rest instead of being sealed for century after century, forced to endure and to learn as time passed by, even as his rationality slowly ebbed in the wake of twisted insanity, which in itself was brought on by an ever growing passion and yearning for the vengance and justice his nightmares called for.
A key twisted in the narrow hole, a soft metalic clink signalling he had gained entry to the next room in the labyrinth that he would have lost himself in, had he not trod this very same path so many times before in the past. The route and all its bearings was indefinitely familiar to him, burned into his memory with ut-most accuracy. Slowly he walked foreward, cool self-assurance in every step he took towards his goal. Fate had never been kind to him, slamming every door he found in his face after dangling treats of hope before his eyes. Everytime he had almost suceeded, it had been snatched away from him... Another door swinging open for the other player in turn while he was left to fan the flames of his ever-growing desire for revenge. A twisted game it may be, a twisted game he could have loathed... And he would have, if he had not been the one in control of it.
Every action has a reaction, and in turn, every reaction triggered another action that opened new paths for him. He was patient- he had to be- He had had time to plot and plan, to maneuver all the pieces til' it was time for the final game. It had almost worked. Almost.
A case of smooth, solid glass stood before him, his hand sliding across it slowly.
Vengence, revenge... Justice. That was all he had wanted in the beginning. In a way, it was no more than that now. He couldn't allow himself to be happy until he was safe and secure in the knowledge that he had not failed. The items were in the hands of those 'chosen' for them, the ones who were destined to keep them and to use them to complete the intricate web of events that had unfolded all those years ago. What right did they have! Those items...
Slaves, bound to the will of those they were created for. Slaves to the throne of Egypt, created to force back the darkness and save the people from suffering. Thats all they were. How could that work? Created by darkness, causing darkness... made to protect and fight back against darkness? The Millennium Items were slaves to the destiny of the Nameless Pharaoh, bound to protect and to serve him until his journey was over.
Goddamn bastards.
He would never rest until he had fulfilled his goals to gather them all, to take back what was his by right. Yes, he would plunge the world into darkness if thats what it took to do it. Those people were nothing to him, paling in significance to to what he would achieve. Pawns and nothing more; a means to an end. This end in particular would be the one thing that could bring him happyness, this end would be the greatest end of all. He would not allow himself to sit idle and fail at his self-appointed mission, for all that fate and other such nuisances got in his way.
For what son would purposefully fail his family? ... Or his people.