Scythe: FINALLY, I have produced Chapter 5 from my loins. Yay.
Warnings: Mentions of Rape. Yaoi. The standard other stuff.
Review answers: None this time. I don't have enough time to do so, but please continue to review, I'll reply to you guys next time.
Chapter 5
Bakura dragged the pharaoh into the tent with him, glaring and hissing and ranting on about how stupid the pharaoh was, and how much he hated him, and so forth and so on. The pharaoh eventually stopped trying to defend himself and ignored him again, which only served to anger the tomb robber even more, though, this time, Bakura didn't show it. He just glared and watched him out of the corner of his eye, shutting up.
Atem sighed. He wondered what state his palace was in now. He was sure it was devastated. The gods would surely condemn him for being so weak as to be kidnapped. The very thought made him queasy.
The cold was starting to latch onto them with its painful bite, and the young pharaoh found himself shivering slightly. Bakura grumbled something about being tired and scratched behind his head, looking around, and then crouching as he dug out some blankets. But, the pharaoh wondered, would this Tomb robber share some of those blankets with him?
"Come here, stupid pharaoh." The Tomb Robber said, sitting on his bed spot, surrounded by a pile of blankets.
Obediently, the said pharaoh crawled over and sat next to him, glaring slightly at the tent's canvas wall.
His glare changed to a look of surprise when he felt blankets around him, and he looked up at the Tomb Robber, puzzled.
"Don't get any ideas. You're still not welcome. But what good would it do if I gave you back to them dead, hmm? So just shut up, lay down, and go to sleep. There's a lot of travel coming up, and I can't have someone hauling your Ra damned weight around all the time."
Sighing, Atem slowly lowered himself, wondering if Bakura was going to kill him during the night. Was he being lead on? Was this whole thing just a way to get money and then assassinate him? Why was he always used as this kind of a tool?
He turned his back on the Tomb Robber, knowing it was dangerous, but he felt that the Tomb Robber would do no such harm to him. Though, he had no clue why. He shouldn't feel so secure with these filthy people.
Bakura just stared at his back for a long while. The pharaoh was not being his true self, anyone could tell. He wasn't pleasant, he certainly wasn't stupid or ditzy, so what the hell was he doing? Had he misjudged him? No, he suddenly realized, the stupid pharaoh was trying to trick him into underestimating him. That had to be it. But... Could a pharaoh so young possess any sort of power that would be considered threatening? Surely not...
How old was the pharaoh? He narrowed his eyes. One might think him to be only sixteen years at first glance, but he had to be at least nineteen. Not much younger than Bakura himself, who was twenty-two. Yes, that sounded right. He remembered some of the older Tomb Robbers speaking of when the Pharaoh was born. Why couldn't it have been him to be the pharaoh? Why did it have to be this stupid brat? I could do a much better job at being pharaoh than this amateur, Bakura thought to himself. But could he really, he wondered?
Letting out an irritated breath, he concentrated on something else. He listened intently to what was going on outside. It sounded as if everyone was shuffling off to bed, aware of the fact they would need to get up early and travel for a long ways. Fenuku would be joining them soon, he concluded. It appeared that he'd already come in and made himself a place to stay, but he would invite him into bed with him, as it got cold quickly, and being alone was no good.
Sure enough, just as he had concluded this thought, Fenuku himself slid into the tent quietly. He moved over the pharaoh, and sat directly in Bakura's lap, straddling him.
The white haired Tomb Robber lifted a brow, but smirked slightly. "Been without for a while, Fenuku?" He taunted.
"Perhaps." And with that, he sealed his lips over Bakura's, kissing him deeply.
Atem flinched, hearing them exchange their... saliva with each other. Did they not realize he was awake, or did they not care? He shifted and turned to his back, keeping his eyes closed to avoid looking at them. They didn't stop. That took care of that question.
For a while, he just listened to them, hearing moans and shuffling of clothes. He crinkled his nose and opened his eyes just a smidge, to gaze up at the ceiling, but his eyes, naturally, lead him down to the two that were romping next to him.
His eyes flung open. He'd caught a glimpse of something in Fenuku's hand. But the other Tomb Robber was glaring at him now as Bakura kissed down his neck, and the pharaoh realized it wasn't supposed to be seen...
Well, I'm dead. He thought, blinking slightly.
"What is it, Fenuku?" Bakura asked, noticing that Fenuku was looking at the pharaoh.
"Well, it seems our captive wants to watch, but why just watch? Why don't you join us, Pharaoh?" Fenuku taunted. The gaze he was giving him was telling him to shut his mouth and say nothing of what he'd seen. Was it so bad, the pharaoh wondered? And now, was this the way he had to repent? By giving his body to these filthy things? He shuddered to think of what disgrace this would place upon him.
"I've always wanted to know what a god tasted like." The blonde said, narrowing his eyes. This... part of him was so much different than what he'd been exposed to just so long before outside.
He sat up, scooting away slightly. "Don't touch me, filth."
This seemed to spark something deep within Fenuku, as the man lunged at him, ready to kill, but Bakura held him.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Calm down, it's just the pharaoh after all."
"How dare he say something like that!"
"It is only natural, Fenuku. He was brought up to be this way, but we'll show him, won't we?"
"Indeed." The other replied, narrowing his eyes dangerously, and then smirking.
The young pharaoh's eyes widened and they both pounced upon Atem. The royalty thrashed and struck out, but to no avail. Fenuku held him steady while Bakura worked his clothes off, as well as his own. Once he achieved that goal, he took Fenuku's place, allowing the blonde to remove his clothes. Together, they rolled the pharaoh onto his stomach and shoved him down, holding him there.
"Now, pharaoh, be a good boy, or we'll have to kill you, or perhaps do something worse." He wasn't sure which one had said it, as he was trying to break free, but it gave him chills. He felt someone move behind him, and someone else shove his head down into their lap. He shuddered, hands pulled behind his back and tied there.
They made his night a living hell.
When the morning came, the young Pharaoh was still awake, and he was still sore. His tear stained cheeks reminded him of the disgrace he'd suffered only hours before. He'd never felt so much pain, nor shed so many tears as he had that night. Was this what it was like, he wondered, in the streets? Were people suffering this kind of indignity and disgrace? He shuddered to think that this sort of thing happened regularly.
It was beginning to warm up already, so he slowly, carefully slipped from the blankets, and got his clothes. He swallowed hard against the sharp, stabbing pains he felt, holding back his urge to gag and vomit. He felt so sick, and deathly tired, he could not even see straight. Somehow, he'd managed to dress himself with shaking hands. It was as if there was a trembling earthquake within his body that would not cease, and yet his heart sank so deeply, he feared he would never be able to regain himself. He wondered, now, what the gods above thought of him.
Not long after he was trying to help himself up, he heard a shuffling and a few coughs from outside.
"Hey, Bakura, should we not begin to move? The sun is already peaking over the horizon." The Pharaoh swallowed hard. He did not want to be seen, and Bakura showed no signs of waking. When the one outside realized this as well, he reached down and grabbed at the flap, opening it slowly.
Just at the last moment, he was pulled away by another asking for help. He gladly went, forgetting almost instantaneously about Bakura, which many tried to do often.
The young royalty took the time to think about what he could do to avoid getting so beaten and battered all the time. He shuddered softly under a slight breeze that carried the last of the chill. Was he doing the right thing; acting powerless? He thought it so. He took a deep breath and finally stood upright. It seemed almost stupid now, that he could not stand before; or so he thought before he began to feel himself topple over.
He could not keep himself up, and he fell straight back... into someone's arms. He flinched slightly, panting and struggling to keep his vision straight.
"You're up early, or should I say down?"
The pharaoh wanted to dispute with him, but could not. His vision was blurring, and his legs felt like jelly. The world was spinning and leaving him behind. His face was very pale, and one could clearly see a hint of purple under his fair eyes.
"Pharaoh?" The one that had caught him asked.
Atem strived to form some sort of response, some way of communicating something, anything. But he could not.
"What the hell is going on?" A voice asked. Atem could not make out who it could be. As these voices became just mumbles and distant sounds, the pharaoh concentrated on the wall of the tent. Was he awake still? Was this all just one long, bad dream? There was always that possibility, he concluded.
Seth stretched himself over the Pharaoh's throne, licking his lips and grinning to himself. He lifted his hand into the air, holding it straight out, and examining his newly acquired gold rings and bracelets. This was the life he was meant to have, he thought to himself. He smirked. It should be that Atem served him, not the other way around, and it would be that way very soon. He already had his plots to get rid of all those that could remove him from power. In fact, he'd already gotten rid of a few; some of the other priests. They all died mysteriously of poisons and bites and sudden heart failures and things. Many servants, too, had died, as they were blamed for poisoning the food, and/or not testing the food right.
Ah, what a shame, He thought, shaking his head in mockery. Too Bad. There were but a few more and then no one could stop him. And once he acquired this said power, he would have the pharaoh for himself as his slave. And what a slave he would be; so beautiful and cocky; perfect for ravishing.
At the moment, he was alone. He had locked everyone out, saying that he needed some time to 'grieve' and 'think' about his lost pharaoh, and to pray to gods that they would find him. He would keep his act for a long while until even after he had taken the throne, to fool the people, and then hit them hard to make them realize they could do nothing!
Mm, I should stop plotting so perfectly, I'm exciting myself too much. I may lose my character.
A band of thieves moved down along the Nile, hidden from all eyes but their own. The smallest member of the crew, being but 18 and quite short, was actually the ring leader behind the ring leader. He could control the will of any thief if he wanted to. With his long, shoulder length white hair, and his perfectly tanned skin, with not but a scar upon it, and his lush, glistening skin, he made for many of the thieves' desires. Yet, none were allowed to touch him except the king of these bandits, himself.
Of course, knowing this well, the young ring leader had gotten a few pests that he did not like 'removed' from the group. How he loved being himself. He had made his heart stone after he'd been taken from his family, and his parents slaughtered in front of him. His brother had been taken from him as well, but he'd never seen him slaughtered, nor heard of him thrown into the jails. Perhaps they had taken pity upon him, as they had done for him?
No, he thought, the pharaoh's soldiers were not so kind. It was unlikely they took pity upon him, for his brother was 8 years of age at the time, whereas he was only 4. Despite such a young age, he remembered very clearly every detail of that night. He had no hope for finding his brother. He was sure that he was dead.
"Ryou, you're lagging, speed it up a little. It's not even past mid day yet."
"Of course, sir."
"Slap him, tha' should wake him." Hanif said. There was a bubble of laughter until Bakura silenced them. He still had the pharaoh within his arms.
"Quiet, all of you, now give me space!"
"I don't sees how you can be so concerned wi'this trash, when all 'e's ever done for you 's cause ya' trouble." Hanif kept on. Bakura shot him another icy glare.
"If you murmur one more word, Hanif, I'll impale you and let the pharaoh's soldiers find you! Keep your illiterate tongue still, and give me space!" He shouted. "Get ready for departure; we leave in less than a shift. Take my tent down and pack it up. And fetch my camel!"
They all divided and set about their take down, one going to retrieve the camel.
Once it was brought to him, he stood and motioned for Fenuku to help him shove the pharaoh onto the camel.
"Do you think we were a little to rough on him last night, Bakura?"
"Perhaps, but no more than he deserves Fenuku. Keep your mind unclouded by his sickness. For all we know he could be acting."
"Then perhaps you really should slap him." Fenuku joked. Bakura only smiled. It made him feel only a little better about the situation. He knew the pharaoh wasn't acting, which, for some reason, frightened him. Why, he wondered? Perhaps he was worried he would not make it, and then they would not get their ransom? It was most likely so. All he knew, is that he didn't want him to die.
Scythe: Sorry this one took so long to get out. I've been busy with rehearsals for the Fall Play. Oh, and you can also thank SHEERO for this lack of updatey-ness, because she was supposed to draw me a picture or else I would not continue the story (XD I'm evil) And she did, but she keeps forgetting to bring it to me, so I decided to give you guys a break and update. How was it?