DIS: Review responses, and then on to the chapter!
Cataracta: Ah, but French is so romantic and fun to speak, mwahaha! And of course, you know me, none of my fics can go without a humorous part. Well, there might be some old ones, but...(trails off thoughtfully, then shrugs) Yeah.
Chained and Torchered: Yeah, I saw the Pegasus/Anzu one. Which fic is the one your friend wrote? (o.o) I wasn't sure which one it was...
Monkeyluv4646: Lol.
DangerousandDemonicDevil: (cries) I am very sorry for the late update! (slaps her hand) Bad me! Bad me! Hehehe...
Chi Yagami: Yes, and oddly enough, it was nearly all true about Marik...(oO)
DIS: Now time for the seventh chapter! Enjoy!
X
Chapter Seven, The proceedings
He had realized that when she had dashed outside and there had been an officer named Lucifer, he could be in trouble. The woman was not stupid like her departed mother – whose insides were swimming in his stomach still, most likely. Smiling to himself, he petted his horse's mane and remembered seeing the young female, looking for her mother. How she amused him! So innocent and naïve. Unfortunately, the more he scrutinized her, he cursed her and her ancestors. It was because of those impeccable men – and that woman, Isis. It made him seethe and want to stomp his foot in anger and swear at the gods themselves. He was aware that the Frenchman, who he loathed, was wooing the female and was not only clever, but also strong. And there was Marik Ishtar, who, admittedly a rogue, seemed – to some extent – interested in the new friend of his sister's. And the fact that Seto Kaiba, a rich lord and fairly arrogant, was the lover of Anzu's friend made things even worse.
He sighed, stared up at the horse. "Why," he whispered to the animal, who stared back at him mindlessly, "is it that my luck changes with this girl? I had assumed she would be the most simplest of them all!" The horse bowed its head in guilt and submission, unable to give an answer to its master. He smiled and patted the horse's mane thoughtfully. "What think you, Roger? What should I do?" Roger snorted and shook his head, then nipped at the man's shoulder in a familiar way the male was used to. He sighed once again and shoved away from the animal, kicking a bucket that had been ill-fated enough to be in the path of the furious man, who was now at loss for an idea of what to do with his victim.
Sitting down on a stool, he peered up at the sky, hearing the rumbles of carriages and chatter from the busy town in front of his manor. What he hoped for when he was a boy, was that he would settle down with a wife and lay on a farm in solitude. Instead, he got this. He growled, glaring at Roger as though it was his fault. Then, a cruel smile twisted his lips and the animal, seeing his master stand up, trotted to the other side of the pen, not liking the smile present on the male's mouth. "Don't you worry, Roger, I wouldn't harm you. As for your breeding partner...She won't be so lucky." Roger gave a curious look, the only word he really having comprehended were 'Roger', 'breeding', and 'partner'. Then, in horror, Roger heard shrieks from the barn and he stared at the barn for a long time. All of a sudden, his master came out, holding something. His master bit into the red, bloody thing in his hand.
"Tasty," was all the male told Roger as he left towards his manor, biting into the most important muscle in any body – the heart. Roger stared after him, looking perplexed for a horse. At last, Roger trotted to the side, attempting to spot his 'breeding partner' as his master had put it. Neighing softly, he shook his head and waited for the responding neigh, but heard nothing.
When his master returned, his hands and face were clean, along with his clothes. He put a saddle on Roger and buckled the bridle carefully on the horse, who was still anxious from hearing no noise in the farm, except the distressed neighs of his colts.
"Stop it, Roger, there's nothing in there." His master snapped and jerked Roger harshly towards the path that led towards the street. Roger obeyed – grudgingly. "Shall we see young Mazaki?"
X
Bakura tapped an impatient finger, watching as Marik signed something, ending with an elegant line underneath.
"Ah, mon – " Bakura began, his scowl more prominent, his tone polite. Had it been any other, they would be confused on whether his scowl or voice was the fraud. Marik raised his eyes to the Frenchman and the scathing look was enough to shut Bakura up, who had been sitting rigidly in the chair across the brightly polished oak desk for more than half an hour. The fact that Marik had called him and was almost absolutely snubbing the rich viscount made the irritation and tension rise in thick layers in the room.
At last, Marik set the quill down, slammed his boots on the corner of his desk with crossed legs, folding his hands on his stomach, and stared at his newfound nemesis with a derisive look. Neither said anything, merely held the gaze, before Bakura, with his butt numb from sitting for such a long amount of time, stood up and rubbed his backside wearily.
"Why did you call me here, Marik? I haven't time for your games, as amusing – " he shot a dirty look to the duke at that word " – as it is."
"Very well," Marik stood up as well and took something out from a large vase. Bakura frowned, attempting to peer over his shoulder, before something was tossed at him. He caught it and stared for a long time at the long, slender object in front of him, his face showing the calculations that were running through his head and the concern etched on his features. "Shall we have a go?"
"Non, I won't find you," the latter declined, shouldering the sword, tapping the blade against his broad shoulder. Marik's face hardened and both were starting yet another staring contest – one of which Bakura won. Marik gave a half humph, half snort, looking disgusted.
"And why not? Do you pity me?" He sneered, obviously attempting to provoke the other male, who, in all things considered, was easily provoked when it was of the same sex.
"Is this about Anzu?" The other asked quietly, staring at Marik from underneath the tousled fringe that covered his forehead and fairly dropped near his eyes. "Because if so, I'll make it completely clear – if I must – that she will belong to no one but me."
"You're a real conceited bastard, have I told you that?" Marik inquired, with a similar cocky air. Bakura smiled coolly, before he nodded outside.
"Is that where we'll be performing this? I'd hate to destroy your furnishings and – "
"Why aren't you speaking French?" Marik interrupted. Bakura stiffened, as though struck by something. Marik knew that there was something wrong when the male wasn't speaking French to him. He only refrained from speaking his language when Anzu was around and doing so seemed more than odd, it was suspicious.
"Why do you ask?" The other male said at last, looking apprehensive suddenly, as though he had been caught doing a treasonous act against the king. Marik forget about Anzu, about the duel, about the fact that the other in the room was supposed to be his enemy and straightened, staring Bakura directly in the eye.
"Well? Answer the question, Bakura."
"I'm not French for the day," he grunted reluctantly, his body frozen in place, his face shining with what Marik was certain that was cold sweat.
"Is that so? Who's after you?" Marik sat in the desk behind him, settling the sword against a cabinet temporarily. Bakura gave a sigh of relief and set his sword next to his nemesis-friend and twiddled his thumbs, staring up at the ceiling, looking hesitant.
"No one in particular," he admitted at last and Marik knew that he was being honest. "It's...A woman I'm avoiding. I'm almost keeping up a false name."
"A woman!"
"...And some men."
"What do you mean? Is it a group from France or something?" Bakura shook his head in reply, looking distraught.
"Scotland. Remember me mentioning that I came here directly before returning to France?"
"I remember," Marik responded warily. "What about it?"
"That woman – her name is Isabel – was intent on killing me if I didn't marry her and she was very stubborn. I was lucky I escaped with my head on my neck!" Marik nodded, recalling how bloody and battered up his companion had been when Isis had found him on the street. Bakura had exploded in French to her and she had listened dutifully. Marik, until meeting Bakura, hadn't understood a word of French until the man had taught him, so he comprehended nothing that the Frenchman had spoken of. Luckily, Isis did.
"Anyway," Bakura continued, apparently flustered, "I knew that she was going to check France first, so I knew I could buy time – at least for awhile. I had intended on leaving as soon as I had heard of her coming, but became so comfortable here, I settled down."
"And now? Are you intending on leaving?"
"Grand Dieu!" Bakura exclaimed in mortification. "Non, non! I have not yet made sweet love to the innocent virgin, Anzu, my soon-to-be wife."
"Quite full of yourself, aren't you?" They turned to see Isis standing in the door, smiling pleasantly. Bakura looked horror-stricken, half expecting Anzu about to storm in and box his ears. "No need to worry, Bakura, she's with Seto and Malik at home."
"You left her with Malik?" Both Marik and Bakura roared at the female in the doorway, who kept her smile plastered on her lips, unperturbed by their shouts – and in her face, nonetheless.
"Malik is perfectly respectable to Anzu," Isis replied calmly, "you both know so. He's been ever-so-sweet to her since he's met her." They glared at her in unison, no longer enemies. "Please, will you two stop being that way? And especially you, Marik. I understand Bakura, but what are you getting so worked up about?"
"What, I can't take interest in women all of a sudden?" Marik snarled viciously. "You wicked woman, I hope you get shot! Even better, get eaten by the Mazaki's killer!"
"That's exactly why I came," she told him coldly, her smile having dropped at Marik's wish of her death. "I think we should begin to think of any suspects."
"Suspects?" Marik repeated, looking ill. "How would I know! I only just met Anzu when her mother was murdered!"
"You insensitive prat," Isis snapped at him, glaring. "This is probably the exact reason Anzu barely pays you a second glance. You might be handsome – oh very much so! – but at least Bakura has some dignity and compassion. Oh, but I forgot! You're like our father, unable to feel anything but hate, anger, and a million other sinful feelings!"
"What just a minute – " Her brother began to protest indignantly, but she went on and on, making Marik begin to look very much like the prat she had accused him of being. With a smirk, Bakura waved to Marik behind Isis' back and the latter glared at him, forced to listen to his sister lecture him about women and his indecency.
X
Anzu heard a knock and a maid allow someone to enter. She beamed at Bakura as he crossed the threshold, looking highly amused.
"What are you doing here?" Seto sneered with utter dislike, eyeing him suspiciously. Ever since the ball, he had rather begun to dislike the Frenchman, not that Anzu had noticed. Malik glanced up from the cards he and Anzu were playing, his eyes flickering from one male to the other. He, unlike the female across from him, was well aware was going through their minds, but dismissed it, deciding it was best to let the two of them deal with rather then interrupt.
"I came to see ma cherie, what else?" Bakura demanded, raising his brows as though saying, What harm has there ever been in that, pray tell? Seto, with a cynical glower, snorted, and turned back to the window, splashing gin in his cup, muttering under his breath in a language Bakura couldn't recognize. Decidedly ignoring the male, he turned to Anzu and was about to greet her when Seto suddenly spewed gin over the window.
"Wait, your what?" Seto sputtered out, wiping the window hastily, looking wild-eyed.
"Ma cherie?" Bakura repeated a bit blankly. Seto seemed dazed for a moment as those the two words 'my darling' was some kind of declaration and made every wit from the male fly from his mind. Then, retaining his irritated, suspicious mood, he turned back to the window, no longer muttering, but staring outside, his eyes moving back and forth, no doubt calculated something in his brain. Shrugging, Bakura returned back to Anzu, who was staring at her hand, befuddled. Bakura bent over her shoulder, but she barely noticed as his hair brushed her bare shoulder. "That one, dearest," he told her, pointing to a card. She seemed to think about it, then beamed and set it down. Malik scowled.
"You can't assist her, Bakura, that's cheating!"
"Have Seto help you then," was Bakura's response, with a challenging smirk at the male at the window, who had stiffened and downed the rest of his gin, before with a remarkable stride, he sat next to Malik, crossing his arms and glaring at Bakura, with a leer on his face. Bakura sat next to Anzu, feigning innocence, even though the look he shot the latter was one of mutiny. Anzu and Malik glanced at each other, both grinning in knowledge of what had taken place.
Malik had once had to bite down laughter as Seto had stared in puzzlement at their cards, then the ones of the table. Anzu was more gleeful to have Bakura close to her and on her side, merely because he was good at the game and his proximity seemed to make her feel giddy inside.
"Ah-ha!" Seto pointed at Bakura, as Isis and Marik entered, Marik with a red cheek from Isis' hand, no doubt. "You little cheater!"
"Cheater?" Bakura, Malik, and Anzu repeated blankly.
"How could he be cheating, I've been watching every move he makes," Anzu told him, gapping at them.
"What's going on?" Marik asked, leaning close to Anzu, staring at her cards, then down at the table.
"Who's cheating, Seto?" Isis inquired, taking up the side of her youngest brother and lover.
"That knavery Frenchman!" Seto exploded, glowering at Bakura, who just raised his eyebrows at him.
"Did he?" Marik muttered in Anzu's hear and to her shame, she flushed, her whole body lighting on fire at his breath that passed over her skin.
"No," she murmured back and he shrugged, drawing back a bit, but not enough to allow the hotness that had spread over her to disappear. I must be going mad! Marik's probably the last person I would...But Bakura...And... Her thoughts mixed up, she glanced up at Isis' eldest brother and looked back down at her card. Her eyes widened when a king frowned and shook a finger at her.
"Naughty, naughty wanton! Thinking dirty, dirty thoughts about you! Tsk, tsk, tsk!"
"What?" Anzu bleated in a shocked voice. Everyone looked at her in curiosity.
"Hm?" Bakura turned to her, confused, and then he glanced at Marik, whose nearness agitated him. "Something you said?" She just stared at the king in her hand, then glared at it and whispered, "Talk! Talk again, curse you!" Now they all believe her demented and even more so, inane.
"Are you all right, dear?" Isis asked a bit uncertainly.
"I think – Why do we have five kings in our hand?" She suddenly asked. Bakura jumped as though he had been scalded. Seto smirked at him and Anzu looked confused. "Have we been holding cards?"
"Ah..." Bakura looked at Marik almost imploringly, but he merely spread his hands out with a chuckle and drew away from Anzu, relieving her of the warmth that had enveloped her earlier, and left the room, no longer interested. "Zut alours," Bakura grumbled and sighed, shrugging. Malik laughed and threw the cards near the ones on the pile.
"Well, that means we win on account of Bakura cheated." Seto informed them smugly. Isis sighed, still surprised at how competitive he was.
"I'll keep him away from games from now on, Bakura," Isis promised as she shoved Seto out the drawing room. They heard Kaiba let out a cross exclamation, but Bakura merely murmured, "C'est tres aimable avous..."
"I'm starving," Malik muttered and left as well, winking at Anzu encouragingly. Her jaw dropped at him, her eyes becoming wide. Bakura, however, failed to notice. He collected the cards, grumbling underneath his breath in French. Obviously Seto wasn't the only competitive one in the household. When he glanced up, his face lit up, realizing that they were alone. Anzu noticed and she half wished that Marik was in the room, glaring at Bakura.
Her wish was granted as Marik bound into the room, looking pissed at the two of them. He glowered at them both, then jerked his head to the side.
"Lunch," was his simple command and waited until they both left the room that Marik glanced inside and seeing nothing too suspicious, followed them with an attitude that wasn't lovable in all honesty.
Anzu paused and glanced over her shoulder to see Marik with his hands in his pockets and glaring at his black boots in whether it was suspicion or anger – perhaps both – she wasn't certain. He blinked, feeling someone's eyes on him and paused as well and stared at her a bit surprised.
"Yes?" He demanded at last, raising an eyebrow. She was happy to find that he was not longer angry, but quizzical at why she was staring at him.
"I thought I might wait up for you and – uh..." She stared at the empty space behind her, realizing that Bakura had went ahead in bitterness, not aware that she and Marik had stopped. They waited and they heard a "What – ?" from the corridor and Bakura popped his head around the corner and Anzu couldn't help but like the childish gesture. He blinked twice, then scowled.
"Sneaky, aren't you?" He demanded and crossed his arms, waited for them until they caught up with them and this time, he was careful to keep in step with them. It wasn't hard. They weren't trying to get away from him as he suspected. Very sneaky, Bakura decided to himself. I need to get a chance to seduce Anzu – without anyone around! How dare I lose the chance...He sighed with depressed at the thought if losing such a rare opportunity.
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DIS: Well, it's more detailed then the last. I was trying to make it like they do in books, with the tabs, but noooo, doesn't allow that, dammit! (swears in French, Latin and English) Ahem...(blinks) Please review! (sweat drop)