Notes: Hi, guys. Ah, the end. It was fun while it lasted, I have to say. Some of you might be upset by the end of this, (it's kind of a twsit ending,I guess),but…we'll see. I know I have not responded to all the reviews yet, (I'll get on that as soon as possible, promised). The only thing I wanted to do was upload this chapter in case I'm not around to do it later. Anyway, enjoy! (wipes tears for the last pre-chapter notes)
Warning: Much blood, much violence, much yaoi…ah, you all know by now.
Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.
Chapter 4
In the days and weeks that followed, Bakura found himself enlightened. It was a strange enlightenment; the subject he realized was one he had known all along. But still, it was enlightenment nonetheless. The flickering yellow dot from Ryou's candle burned promisingly in front of where he sat, leaning against the wall. He had a dark expression was fixed on his features, the trademark look he wore whenever a plan began to develop. He had been silent for a very long time, barely blinking he was so deeply embedded in a state of concentration. The corners of his mouth began to flicker.
The Sen-Nin items. He had thought them out of reach from the cell he resided within. But were they? By all logical standpoints, he had access to the above ground world: Through Ryou, of course. Ryou could get into any place he wanted, he had full range of the palace (minus the holy places), being a slave. He could surely find the Sen-Nin Ring, which had been stolen from so unjustly.
Could Ryou get the Sen-Nin Ring for him? Yes. He did think it was possible. It would be asking a lot of the boy, maybe…but…Bakura allowed his thoughts to drift to the night before. A night like so many others before it, the two white haired men had fallen to the floor in heated passion. His emotions elevated themselves at the mere memory of it…Ryou lying underneath him, face contorted in pleasure, delightfully pale body twisted to his design…
By effect, the thief remembered the end of that night in which Ryou had left him with only the candle's meager light for sustenance. Their nights always ended so tragically. Just the separation was tragic, he felt. Although after the beating, Ryou made sure that he returned to his bed on time, as much as it hurt him to leave Bakura in the darkness.
His left fist clenched in anger. Bakura hated that their meetings had to be controlled by someone else's wishes. Why should it? The relationship between them was something private, something no one in the world besides the two of them should be able to dictate.
If Ryou stole—stole? Is that what his lover would be doing? Stealing? Bakura found this strangely appealing. Heh. Stealing. Something my lover is not accustomed to…The idea of tempting Ryou into the darker more criminal side of life excited him.
It was settled, then. He would bring the proposal up that very night, if the candle had burned halfway. If not, then the night after.
A smirk developed fully on his face. The plan was complete. Burn, candle, burn.
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"Why give up like that, Ryou?"
Ryou was nestled in Bakura's strong, protective embrace. Both were entwined in a mess of limbs and sweat after their ardent display of love making. It was the night after Bakura's plan hatched. The mood had been calm; the stench of their passions still lingering in the stagnant dungeon air, their flesh still tingling from the last remnants of divine touch. Ryou adored this time in the night. It usually assumed the perfection—suspension in the warm, luscious space between life and love. Sometimes he almost forgot that there was a life beyond this dungeon.
But that was not this night.
This night, the thief king had broken their usual unbreakable silence with quiet words. It started with a single whisper. Ryou had felt it coming before it actually came. Bakura leaned his head down into his lover's ear, gently stroking him with sleek, polished words—quite different from his normal coarse tone—and proposed a challenge.
"I need your help with something, Ryou." There was no need for a preamble. Bakura expected no response; the words were falling into a lively ear connected to a mute mouth. Why not be straight to the point?
Ryou was startled by the sudden sounds. Apparently, Bakura had devised an escape plan. He wanted to leave the dungeon but needed help with…something.
The exhausted slave was half asleep when the ideas entered his brain through the vulnerable, unlocked and caressed passageway that was his ear. Bakura never moved his voice above a whisper the entire time he spoke. Throughout every word, every meticulously kind utterance that his lover yielded, the thief maintained a demeanor that resembled beauty. Beauty? Was that his lover's manner? Ryou thought. Well, it resembled beauty, but was not. This was Bakura, after all. He hardly ever put up a sweet disposition—except in love making, though not even really then.
The boy found himself faced with tenderness and an unruly hand that traveled up and down his bare leg as the thief said, "The Sen-Nin items. Surely you've heard of them…they are the pharaoh's pride, you know. I need those Items, Ryou. I cannot escape without them." All of this caused a well-known bubbly pattern to arise within him. Yet, something unfamiliar clung to him, as well. Disappointment? Betrayal? Could that be the unfamiliar thing? Indeed. Ryou's swellings deflated immediately.
Escape? Bakura wanted to leave? That was it? He had been in this dungeon for about three or four months—such a short time compared to that which Ryou knew for periods of suffering. Now he wanted escape? No, he demanded it. He wanted to leave then? He was…(could he even bare to imagine it?)…leaving Ryou? Tears prickled the boy's eyes as Bakura continued to speak.
"I have to get out of this godsforsaken hell. Do you understand? I cannot forget about the freedom I once had, and I do not wish to. Why give up like that, Ryou? I know that I cannot stay in here for very much longer without completely going insane." Insane? Bakura found it maddening to be here with him? But…Ryou had loved it so much. He loved coming to the prisons. Here, secluded from everyone, he could release all of what he kept hidden from the cruel above world. He showed himself to Bakura, opened his mind and his heart to the prisoner, letting the man explore his very self until he fitted it like a stray dog on a pile of bed-sheets—just to his liking. Was Ryou not enough for the tomb robber that now he wanted to leave forever? The tears brimmed on the lower half of his eyelids.
"Of course, you will escape as well. I would not leave you behind in this prison to live out your days for someone else's bidding. Never. No, you will come with me, Ryou."
What? Ryou's eyes flew open, meeting the lower half of his lover's face. Bakura was staring into the space in front of them. His lips and his hand were moving, but he looked as though in a distant land. But…he had said…that Ryou was…to go…as well? He wanted to escape with the boy? In truth?
Unable to contain his surprise and his happiness, (all tears forgotten momentarily), Ryou leapt out of the embrace, moving directly in Bakura's starry line of vision. Startled, the tomb robber stopped talking and thinking. Indeed, he had not been mindful of his words. As often when in the company of Ryou, his words just poured out into the silence filling up the void. Because Ryou never spoke, Bakura had been yoked with the burden of speaking enough for both of them, which he did quite frequently against his will.
Damn it. Now what had he said to upset the boy? Ryou's foggy eyes seemed even foggier with a glimpse of what looked like tears. What? What had he said?
"What? What's wrong?" Still he asked these stupid questions, never anticipating an answer. Then why the hell did he say them? Damn it all. Frantically, he raked through his memory for some help in what he had just said. Alright, it was about the plan. The Sen-Nin items? Maybe? Oh, Ra curse it, the boy was looking at him with eyes as wide as the dinner dish-plates served in the palace. What on all hell had he said, damn it?
"The Sen-Nin Items? Have you heard of them?" It was possible. No response. Alright. What else had he said? Ryou accompanying him in the breakout? Possibly. "You are coming with me. You know that, right?"
Aha, a reaction. Ryou moved closer to him, eyes taking on the persona of an emotion so fierce that Bakura recoiled. "Of course you are coming with me. I offer no option in the matter." Did the boy…want to stay?
Lips, red and swollen from prior kisses, began to tremble. Just when Bakura thought he was needed to insist upon Ryou's accompaniment, the boy thrust himself forward into the thief's chest. Tears leaked out of his eyes, but he wore such a smile. Happy. Bakura had come to notice that the smile meant happiness.
Shaking his head, Bakura began stroking the flesh on the scarred back. "Ryou, did you honestly think I would leave you here?"
Ryou heard the question. Yes, he had. So many things had been stolen from him before, so many people throwing him away like trash. In all his life, Ryou had had a total of five masters, each one for a different stage of his life. He had no parents that he could remember, though often he fantasized about what they were like. He once had a sister, but she had been stolen from him rather viciously eventually. The only person in his life now was Bakura. Complacently, Ryou would have expected to be discarded by him. But apparently that was not the thief king's plan. Oh…how Ryou adored his lover.
Suddenly Ryou knew what he had to do. So, his lover wanted him to steal the precious Sen-Nin items from where they lay in the High Priest's Chamber? It was risky, yes, of course it was. Stealing was always a risky business. But Bakura wanted those items. And Bakura would get those items. No matter what.
"I would not, Ryou. Do not ever think that."
White hair shifted as the boy looked up. He nodded.
Deciding that his lover was in a rather agreeable mood presently, he took advantage of it. "I need you to steal those items, Ryou. Will you do that? Can you?"
Another nod. This one more vicious.
"Alright then." Bakura closed his eyes in ecstasy. It was settled. The plan was sealed. His escape was so near he could truly taste it…the harsh desert sands, the salty, abrasive wind that scarred him willingly in gusts of impatience…holding the secrets of a millennia worth of deaths and murders…the very blood of the ages stained into their boundless depths…
Ryou. Good Ryou. Precious Ryou. Now Bakura was aroused again. Oh, lovely Ryou. Sweeping the figure into his arms, Bakura leaned over his small, tear stained face and enveloped his mouth in a harsh, demanding kiss that relayed all of his yearnings for freedom along with his lust for the boy.
The second time turned out to be better than the first.
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From underneath a thin layer of bed-sheets, two grayish aqua eyes stared like burning, fearful stars in the nighttime darkness. Cold. It was cold in here tonight…the bed-sheets were wrapped around him but he was still cold. Was it the constant wind that blew angrily through the open window on his side of the large room? No, no it was not that. This cold seemed to be generated from somewhere inside himself. It flowed out from the pours on his skin, leaking onto the sheets creating pools of freeze wherever they spilled.
When Ryou needed to blink, he squeezed his eyes shut tightly for several seconds before opening them again. He was trying to blink away the nervousness—the cold that lay inside him. Tonight was the night we would prove to Bakura that he would do anything for him. Tonight was the night he would steal the Sen-Nin items.
Bakura had been clear. He wanted as many as Ryou could find in the Chamber. Ryou was not sure how to hide all of these items…he was not sure what to expect from the Chamber itself. What would he find there? What would it be like? Would there be guards? What then?
Guards…they did pose as a problem. Bakura had told him to take a knife, just in case. A knife? But he could not…kill anyone, could he? Ryou blinked for a period of two minutes. Could he? If Bakura wished it, he would have to. Another blinking session.
Snoring could he heard in the background. His master was fast asleep. Such old men retired early these days. Normally, tonight would be a night to visit Bakura…Ryou lamented his being robbed of this experience for tonight. Instead of stealing the pharaoh's most precious possessions, he would have much preferred sneaking into the dungeons for a night of passionate love making that often lasted deep into the morning.
Morning. Ryou blinked and wrapped the sheets around him tighter. Where would he be in the morning? Would all this now be over, Bakura charging forward in his escape plan? Would Ryou now be in a cell adjacent to his lover's—or far away from his lover's in another section of the dungeon? The latter was too much to bear. He could not stand being away from Bakura forever…if only he had had more experience with situations like these, maybe he would be ready…after all, stealing a few dusty old scrolls from the palace library and a butter knife from the kitchen drawer were nothing to be proud of. Children at his age and in his same position had often made hobbies out of stealing things by now…why could he not be one of those slave children?
For a brief second, Ryou flipped the sheets over his head. He did not want to do this and fail, ruining his chance to be with Bakura for the rest of his life. Did he even want to do this and succeed, changing his home and life forever? There was no way to be certain. Underneath the sheets, Ryou whimpered a little. He just wanted tonight to be over.
A particularly loud snore from the master's bedroom shocked him out of his lamenting. He threw the sheets over his head and turned to face the moon. Judging by its position, it was almost midnight. There was only a little time to do this while the guards changed shift at the start of a new day. Forget this childishness of weeping and whimpering like a little girl who had fallen down while playing. Ryou was no longer a child, not since Bakura. He would prove his manhood to Bakura—to himself. Even if that meant going to prison. Bakura wanted the Sen-Nin items. Bakura would have the Sen-Nin items.
In one strong leap, Ryou jumped out of his bed and threw on a brown colored cloak. It was still cold in the palace at this time of night, and he wanted to be seen as minimally as possible. This color would help him blend in more with the shabby brown color of the stone walls around the palace. Perfect, then? Perhaps. He would soon see.
Now he just needed one more thing; the thing that made him quiver with fear not a moment before. On pale soundless feet, Ryou snuck into the main room, adjacent to his master's bedroom. Where was it? He searched the many unlocked trunks, hoping to find the item glinting in the moonlight, defiant with power. All he found was silk, more and more of it, laying in impossibly colorful piles from all around the world. Ryou thought. How much were these worth? They might be useful to Bakura once he escapes. Casting one last glance back at his master's room, Ryou reached into the trunks, grabbed a few handfuls of the silk, and stuffed them into his cloak. He hoped Bakura would be pleased.
But what of the other item? He moved closer to his master's bedroom. Was it…in there? Slowly, he pulled back the curtain that acted as a door. Light spilled onto his master's unsightly appearance. Ignoring that, Ryou peered around the room and searched for the telltale glint in the darkness—aha. He found it, sitting on the table across from his master's bed, maliciously rebellious. Could he reach it?
Moving very slowly, Ryou tiptoed into the room. He made absolutely certain that no sound reverberated off the creaky wooden floor. Never did his gaze move from the painful sight of his master. Snores echoed in his ears, setting his nerves on spikes of anxiety. Ryou decided then and there that he hated snores and would never let anyone snore around him again. At least for the time being, anyway.
After about three minutes, he reached the destination. One swift hand lashed out and caught it, dragging the dagger into the folds of his cloak. It might come in handy. He tiptoed out much the same way he had come in. His master never once awoke.
At the edge of the living space that Ryou and his master dwelled in, Ryou paused for a moment. When was the next time he would see this place again? After the Sen-Nin items were stolen he could certainly never come back. Too risky. In addition, Bakura had stated that he wanted out as soon as possible. Knowing his lover, that probably meant as soon as the Items rested in his eager hands. Most likely, he would never return to this place.
What about that? Did that thought sadden him? Ryou considered it for a moment. Would he miss this place of torture that, no matter how horrible, had still sheltered him for years?
Ha. Ryou's mouth twisted into a laugh. Miss this place. His small mind found it very funny. If only he could speak, he would tell Bakura of it one day. Or maybe not. Tossing the curtain behind his shoulder, Ryou jetted out of the room with a smirk still plastered on his lips. Good-bye, Master.
So, the boy flew down the endless corridors of the palace, completely focused on what he needed to do. Barely any other thought entered his mind. He thought about what he would do if someone found him lurking through the darkness like this. Basically everyone in the palace knew that Ryou was "the slave that refused to speak", so they probably would only ask a few questions. To allow for some explanation, Ryou had decided to bring a water pouch and a rag with him so that if anyone stopped him, he could brandish this in defense. Oh, I'm just out for a nightly clean. You understand, do you not? It sounded odd to his ears, but then again, he would hardly say those words. That made sense, then.
Ryou ran on feet that made slight slippery sounds as he moved gracefully through the corridors. He needed to get to the Pharaoh's quarters, where he and all the other High Priests resided. There were rumors of magical golden items that could rip an entire army to shreds. The same rumors said that these items contained so much power only the Pharaoh and the High Priests themselves could wield them. Thus, they were guarded in a small chamber beyond their bed sections. It was a stretch—(and hardly obtained from a reliable source)—but Ryou had no other choice. Where could the Items be if not near the Pharaoh?
Ryou passed no one on his way to the Pharaoh's chambers. He could not stop praising the gods over this. Such luck! The gods were fond of him tonight for his cause. They wanted him to love.
It was also rumored among the palace that the Pharaoh and all of his High Priests resided within the same corridor so that if anyone ever attacked the Pharaoh, that person would have to defeat the High Priests first. Ryou saw the logic in this, yet he could not trust himself to believe that this was so. After all, he was only a mere slave. Surely the palace and the palace guards had much more intelligence than one such as himself. But he left it up to chance.
Finally he reached the corridor. Of course there were guards in the way. Ryou ducked into a shadowy corner that lay to the guards left. There were only three of them, (it seemed kind of risky to only have three…but he knew that there must be some logical, highly intelligent reason behind this that he could never comprehend with his small slave mind). At the very sight of them, Ryou felt nauseous. He did not want to kill anyone…through a window above his head he gauged the position of the moon. Past midnight. Curses. Was the shift over? Vomit lurched within Ryou's stomach. Would he have to kill these men?
He waited, listening to their conversation with open ears.
"Have you heard the news lately?" One guard asked.
"Be quiet! Do you not remember that Pharaoh Atemu himself sleeps in the corridor behind you?" Another reprimanded.
"No, I have not heard the news. What is it?" The third seemed not to care that the pharaoh slept nearby.
"Fools, both of you." The second turned and ignored their conversation.
"Well, Vizier Siamun seems to be saying that the time has come for the Pharaoh to choose a mate for the sake of the kingdom. I do not know why…the Pharaoh's still pretty young…"
"Who has he chosen?"
"No one, yet. The Pharaoh seems kind of turned off to the idea."
The other snorted. "That's ridiculous. The Pharaoh could have anyone he wanted in the entire kingdom! Why would he refuse such an offer?"
"Do not ask me, I just heard the news, I cannot explain it. The whole thing seems foolish to me. I miss the days when our palace was under attack. Then we actually had something to live for."
The third turned back and retorted with "Do not! How dare you wish such a thing? The gods might be listening—Pharaoh Atemu might be listening. You could be hanged for that statement!"
"No one heard me. There is no one around for quite a ways." Ryou blinked at this assumption.
"How do you know?" Asked one.
"Because if there was someone here they would have attacked us long before we even started this conversation." Oh? Thought Ryou.
"Maybe…that reminds me: When are we going to be relieved of our shift? It is past midnight already and I want to sleep!"
The more reverent guard seemed appalled by their comments. "I cannot believe the both of you. How dare you show such disrespect?"
"Eh, shut up. I am tired of standing here waiting for Ra knows what. I refuse to stand here any longer. My wife is waiting for me up in my room—I could be doing much more rewarding things than this."
"That is going a little bit too far. Are you going to leave?" This sounded like the second one.
"I will. The next shift will be here soon. Come on, let us go."
"Are you mad? I remain here, waiting for the proper reprieve." The third turned his back on the both of them, appalled beyond words.
"Suite yourself, friend. Come, the two of us leave." Ryou watched from the darkness as the guards walked into the distance, the sound of their sandals echoing off the walls in uncaring loudness.
Now only one guard remained, muttering to himself quietly about respect. Ryou could take one guard, right? Could he? Desperately he searched himself for some of the old courage he felt when getting out of bed.
Yes. Yes, he had the courage to do this. For after all, the spirit of Bakura flew heavily within him. Grasping the dagger in his cloak, Ryou prepared to launch out at the last guard. A second's sweat dripped into his eyes and his muscles twitched with the anticipated burden of movement, when suddenly—
"Wait for me, damn it! I cannot stay alone!" The guard ran off to catch up with his friends. They were only teenagers after all.
Ryou dropped his dagger and slumped into a sitting position, panting heavily. He let the sweat drip down his body. Ra be praised…he thought. What would have happened if he had had to kill that guard? He shook the thought from his mind.
Gathering up courage stored in hidden pockets inside him, Ryou stood up on shaky legs again and placed the dagger back into his cloak. Now the boy just wanted to get this over with. He walked slowly over to his destination.
Standing at the mouth of the corridor, Ryou felt colder than he had in bed. There was something emanating from this place…something cold. An aura of some sort, he reasoned. Was it holy? Or evil? Whatever it was, it sent waves of chill cascading gently over his skin. Involuntarily he shivered. The Items definitely had to be down there. He could practically feel them calling…
That was foolish. He could not deal with foolishness at the moment. Shaking himself back to reality, the boy marched cautiously into the corridor.
The first thing he noticed was the shine on the walls. The regular dull brown of the palace walls was nothing compared to the ethereal blue that shone from the hieroglyphics carved into these, (Ryou wished he knew how to read them). This was a holy place, no doubt. Maybe this was where the iciness in his skin originated from. The chill of these walls…he had never known such haunting beauty resided in this palace that he shared. How different were these fine, ghostly walls when held up against the black, slimy, blood stained walls of the prison where his lover dwelled.
It was a relief when he finally reached the end of that holy passing. Unfortunately, the antechamber opened up into a vast space lined with many spacious rooms. Ryou guessed it could be called a corridor, if a person who witnessed it wanted to deal cruel injustice on the structure. But Ryou really did not have any other word for it, so corridor it remained in his mind.
The corridor had rooms tucked into its sides which opened into large living spaces. These were nothing like what Ryou had lived in…these had to be at least ten times the size of his. Maybe eleven. He could not tell by mere glance. However, these rooms were shielded with curtains of fine, colorful silk that had been sewn so fine, Ryou could see directly through them if he concentrated.
In the first room he saw a woman with long black hair kneeling in front of a shrine. The shrine held some type of golden necklace. It looked to Ryou as if she was lost in deep prayer, lips moving along with her thoughts. Indeed this woman was beautiful, a slender figure and a curvaceous but modest form. A priestess, no doubt. Ryou nodded his head and moved on, (in prayer she had not seen him).
The next room held a man that looked something like his master. He had a long white beard and white hair, probably turned from old age, and a strange golden eye on the left side of his face. That eye seemed to be held there permanently—something unnatural for any human. The man also seemed sickly to Ryou; he wrapped himself in bed-sheets with spindly hands reminiscent of a spider Ryou had once seen crawling across the well one night. Oh, how he had cried at the sight of that spider. The boy moved on quickly.
Each room had been built great lengths apart from one another. It took Ryou a few moments to reach the next one. In this one he found another man, dressed in priestly robes. His back was to Ryou, as the man stood in front of a large open window, gazing out into the clear night sky. His bald head seemed clouded with worry of some sort. Ryou thought he looked very sad. He walked on to the next one.
In this room, he truly thought he was going to be captured. Sitting right behind the translucent curtain was a man with shoulder length slick black hair, eyes wide open, and lips moving incessantly. Ryou saw him and jumped back a few feet, letting out a slight yelp. He stood in front of the curtain unable to move for the fixation of the man's eyes, frozen there by shock. It took him a few minutes to realize that this man was not going to catch him. He was not even moving. Was he…Ryou flicked his eyes over meditative sitting position he assumed. This man must have been deep in the realm of prayer. Ryou noticed a scale sitting somewhere to his left, made out of pure gold. It shone in the darkness. Ryou decided not to tempt fate, and continued on.
The next room seemed to be old. It looked uninhabited, everything was in disarray. Dust lingered over each piece of furniture; each item ravaged by the judging stomp of time. Had the occupant of this room been killed? Moved away? Ryou searched his memory for some recollection of a killing…yes, one of the High Priests had been killed…by some tomb robber, the rumors had been. He remembered mention of a grave robbing in the process. But very little of the palace affairs ever went through him. He never received a name of the Priest's murderer. Whoever the murderer was, Ryou reasoned, must have been killed by the pharaoh a long time ago.
The next room puzzled Ryou. It looked every bit inhabitable; the bed was made, not a speck of dust floating in the air. Yet, it was empty. Completely. Ryou did not like the thought of someone missing from their room, (someone had to live there…right?), so he quickly skittered to the next one.
Ryou had never really expected to see or ever come close to this room in his life. It just did not happen to a slave. Slaves stayed in their master's rooms, cleaning and sweeping, preparing life for those worthy enough to live it. Slaves never achieved anything astounding, unless they ran away and became infamous around the palace. However, here stood Ryou. In front of the same curtain that housed the Pharaoh.
The boy froze upon seeing him. The curtain stood very still in its place, but Ryou could see directly through it to the form of the Pharaoh as he lay on the bed. Indeed it was Pharaoh Atemu, sleeping naked on his bed of fine, gold spun silk. The tan, golden skin of his form glistened with a thin layer of moisture, probably from a bath or a shower he had just taken. His hair, tri-colored and spiked in defiant prowess, lay beneath his head fanned out over the sheets like a deck of cards. Black outlined eyelids masked the normally intense violets or reds of his irises, a reprieve to his enemies. Surprisingly, Ryou felt his manhood awaken.
Perhaps it was the pharaoh's nude form, (hardly any royal slept in clothes), that captured Ryou so completely. Indeed he was quite an…attractive…enchanting…thrilling…haunting…arousing…exhilarating…beautiful, no gorgeous…fantasy. Yes, that was it. The pharaoh was a fantasy. Yes, Ryou wiped the sweat from his brow and forced himself to believe in fantasies.
However…an idea entered Ryou's mind. Bakura always talked about how he hated the pharaoh with every particle of his soul, every follicle of his skin. Ryou knew not why, but he guessed it was this hate that had gotten Bakura in prison. Never could Ryou trust hate. Hate was such an ugly emotion…it blinded people. Ryou did not need to be blind. But his lover would always hate the pharaoh for something, (this had never been revealed). And if his Bakura hated the pharaoh, then Ryou would learn to hate the pharaoh.
Carefully, slowly, Ryou felt his fingers wrap around the handle of the dagger. Would Bakura enjoy this? Would Bakura congratulate him? Thank him? The boy tried to gauge his lover's reaction.
No, he thought. Bakura would be angry with me for doing this. He wants Pharaoh Atemu to himself. No one else has the right to kill him.
Of course. Ryou shook away all the remnants of blood lust he had acquired thinking about plunging the knife deep within the pharaoh's toned flesh. That was Bakura's duty, not his. How could he forget such a thing?
Wrenching his eyes away from the tempting figure, (one that Ryou was certain he could never forget in a lifetime of sex), the boy tried to recollect his thoughts on the plan. He still needed the Sen-Nin items. On top of that now, he needed to escape with the items and make sure none of the High Priests noticed. Difficulty rang true.
Banishing these pessimistic thoughts, Ryou continued down the corridor beyond the rooms until he came to end of the tunnel. The walls had turned blue again and he felt covered in the distinct chill of holiness. The corridor opened into an L-shaped section that when Ryou followed, (which took him far away from the rooms of the Priests and Pharaoh), lead to a definitive end point. Before him stood a cabinet made of cherry wood—imported from the north, most like—maybe seven or eight feet high. The cabinet, though tall and pleasing to the eyes, was very thin in width (thinner than Ryou's own body).
A feeling similar to being crushed entered Ryou when he placed his small hand on the streaked wood of the cabinet. The wood was solid in his hand, but the illicitness of the touch made him quiver. He should not be here by all rights of the sacred Pharaohs…
A small handle protruded from the firm surface of wood, which Ryou wrapped his hand around slowly, not wishing to seem too eager to any who might be watching, including himself. Gently, he tugged. To his great surprise, the cabinet popped open easily. It was not locked? Ryou widened his eyes in shock. Why would they keep it unlocked? Maybe they thought that the guardianship of every priest and the pharaoh would be enough safekeeping. Obviously, they had not expected circumstances like this to arise.
Avoiding any creaking hinges, Ryou pulled open both doors of the cabinet with small speed. Immediately, when the doors' shadows still loomed over the Item, Ryou saw a flash of gold in the darkness. A flash of gold? That must be his destination.
Fully open now, Ryou stared in awe at contents of the cabinet. Crushed cranberry velvet covered the inside. What appeared to be outlines of different shapes were arranged concavely into the velvet depths. Ryou guessed that all those outlines resembled each Sen-Nin item, for this is where they were stored after the killing of the High Priest. Ryou remembered hearing something about their being moved…for safekeeping, it was said. Ironic.
Only one Item remained in the cabinet. A ring with pointed spikes dangling from the end of it and the notorious eye—a sacred symbol—outlined in the center. Its pure yet tainted metallic gold glinted at him devilishly. Was this ring, this seemingly evil ring, the Item that Bakura longed for night and day? Now that he was up close to it, the whole thing seemed wasteful. Gold had no meaning to a slave.
But, if Bakura wanted it…
All Ryou had to do was touch it, take it, and run down into the depths of the dungeon to deliver his prize. With the gods' help he could do it.
Then why this fear creeping into his stomach?
Ryou tried to shake it, he really did. He blinked rapidly in succession and rubbed his elbows for warmth. But the fear remained. Ryou needed to grip it and cast it away in order to fulfill his promise. He needed to accept that this Item frightened him so utterly, not just because of the shadowy aura surrounding it, but because of what it stood for: Change. If he took this now, everything would change.
Can I take this? Can I do something like this that will change everything? Can I? He repeated the question to himself over and over again, hoping to attain an answer from the cowardly pits in his stomach. Can I? Could he?
Yes. Yes I can do this. Because…I really…do truly…love you, Bakura.
A pale, bony hand snatched the gold. Piercing through the quiet stillness was a screech that came from the item itself. It glowed and gasped in the night, as if screaming for its proper owner. Just when Ryou thought he was going to be caught, (or thrown onto his backside, whichever), the Item died down. Suddenly it was just a piece of gold again, hard and heavy in his hands, weighing him down with each second of standing still.
If standing still was the problem, he could fix that. Turning away from the cabinet at an alarming rate, Ryou bolted down the corridor, retracing his footsteps. He no longer noticed the blue of the walls, or the words in hieroglyphics that he could no read, or the pharaoh and his servants, sitting idly by as he stole their most precious possession.
However, it was not as easy as before. The Pharaoh and his Priests had detected a disturbance and were visibly showing signs of it. Pharaoh Atemu tossed back and forth on his bed, grumbling to himself and thrashing about. The Black-haired man no longer silently moved his lips, but mumbled violently to himself as the scale glowed in the background. The bald-headed man sat in awe, gazing at his ankh as it glowed and levitated itself off his dresser. The sickly man in bed began shouting distant threats in a tongue Ryou did not understand, his eye bursting forth a blinding light. Finally, the woman sitting in prayer before her protesting necklace had tears streaming down her closed eyes, while she moved her lips, oblivious to the glow of her jewelry.
Ryou witnessed this all in a flash as he ran for his life out of the Pharaoh's Chamber. He just wanted to deliver this heavy burden to his love, so it could all be over finally and they could escape.
Outside the corridor, Ryou saw and heard the shadows of the next guard shift coming toward their post in a manner of camaraderie. Their laughter boomed around the walls, frightening Ryou and giving him extra speed.
For the rest of his short life, Ryou distinctly remembered being chased all the way down to the dungeon. He fully recalled feeling the hot trail of pursuit behind him as he ran faster than he had ever run for the open, waiting arms of his lover. But in truth, no one chased him. No one even saw him coming or could ever lie and say they detected it earlier in hindsight.
Bakura…Ryou thought desperately, warding off the imaginary men with swords lashing out behind him.
Bakura, I need you. Bakura…I have your Item…Bakura!
---------------------------------
"Damn, damn, damn…"
Bakura stood in the darkness in front of the back wall in his cell. "Damn!" He cursed this wall and threw one violent punch at it, chipping off some solid pieces of stone along the way. Unfortunately, now his knuckles bled freely, adding pain to the revolting mixture of emotions in his stomach.
"WHERE IS HE?" Bakura shouted to the ceiling in anguish, ripping out a few strands of his hair in the process. Damn, that boy could worry him sometimes. The thief king knew that his lover should be back by now if he had done it at all. Had he done it? Could he trust his love with such a responsibility? There were way too many questions, damn it!
Tossing the white strands of hair in front him, (which went a distance of six inches before floating annoyingly to the ground), Bakura stomped to the other end of his cell. Alright, damn it, alright. He needed to calm down. If Ryou did it he did it, and if he did not…well, then he did not. Bakura just hoped Ryou had enough sense not to return empty handed. The tomb robber was not good at controlling his rage and if he saw that the boy had failed…well, he would be full of rage. And that was the very problem.
Running random thoughts through his brain, Bakura began to pace around the small length of his cell. Back and forth. Ryou could handle this. He was a tough boy.
"Hnh. Tough." Bakura snorted.
Although, a part of him that always stood up for Ryou even when he wanted to strangle the boy rationalized, he could handle you. That must count for something.
Bakura nodded, agreeing with this.
But the Sen-Nin items were something completely different. In order to steal them, one needed to have courage, mettle! Bravery! The blessing of a robber! Did Ryou have all that? As much as it discouraged him, Bakura had to relent and admit that now, he did not.
The boy had his redeeming qualities, as well. He was kindhearted, (Bakura snorted again), and knew how to heal someone. The scars on his arms and legs were proof enough of that. How does that help a thief? It did not.
Other traits of Ryou…
Right. He was quiet. Sleek. He could run and make practically no sound whatsoever. Plus, he did not have the burden of voice which often led to a thief's demise. A single yelp at the wrong time could mean certain death. Exactly. A thief needed to be quiet. Ryou had that. Yes…Ryou could do this…certainly.
But, you needed more than silence to steal a Sen-Nin item.
Bakura leaned up against another wall and smashed both his fists into it, lightly. "Damn you, Ryou…Forcing me to worry over you like some doting mother…I worry for no one except myself! Damn you…"
In the darkness there, the tomb robber could have sworn he heard something like feet on stone making their way to him. He lifted his head. Ryou? The sounds came closer. It had to be Ryou…who else?
Sure enough, before Bakura could even gather his thoughts on the matter, a white blur flung itself on the cell door and thrust the key into the hole. A panting, sweating Ryou opened the cell door and fell on his knees.
Bakura ran over. "Have you got them?" It was the first thing he said.
Panting on all fours, Ryou reached into his cloak. Slowly, he pulled out an item wrapped in violet silk. As if presenting a sword to a knight, he put the item in both his hands and raised it above his head eagerly.
Bakura snatched the item and threw over the wraps of silk. Indeed, sitting in his palm was the Sen-Nin Ring shining and shrieking in all its glory.
The thief stared at the item a long time, smirking evilly. Then, he threw back his head and bellowed a laugh of old. Finally! The Sen-Nin Item which had been so unfairly stolen from him was now again in his clutches. Freedom was imminent now. The pharaoh would lose this battle that eh thought he ended a long time ago. Victory would be his. He never failed the same mission twice…
Looking down, he cared to notice Ryou. Still on his knees, panting with his head down. Ryou…good Ryou. Precious Ryou. His Ryou.
Setting the Sen-Nin Ring gently on the floor, (it was covered in silk, so he deemed it acceptable that the item should touch the ground of an unholy place), Bakura moved toward Ryou. He placed both his hands on Ryou's thin shoulders and said, "Well done, my love. Well done…" Ecstasy shot through him at the thought of Ryou triumphing. Such a good boy…such an obedient boy…such a kind boy…
Timidly, Ryou raised his head. Immediately upon seeing the sight of Ryou's lovely, sweaty face, Bakura felt arousal wash over him rapidly like a familiar wave of lust. He wanted Ryou. Now.
Kneeling down on his own knees so that their faces were almost touching, Bakura whispered to his love, "Very well done, Ryou. I am proud of you." He thought about this next statement. Was this something a tomb robber should say? To any one? Oh, to hell with it. He felt like it, damn it.
"And I love you…" he whispered, moving his face towards Ryou's ear, while running his hands along the boy's back. Moving him so that their lips locked into a heated kiss, Bakura began to strip himself and his lover. Tonight he would go easy on Ryou if that's what the boy wanted. Tonight he would do what Ryou wanted, with the Sen-Nin Ring glowing on the floor next to them.
Bakura tried to decide, in the next few seconds before he completely abandoned all thought, whether he meant the last words he said. He supposed he did. Moderately. The boy was…unique, in his own way.
But what was "love"? Bakura hated "love". He mocked "love". So, in some ways he did not "love" Ryou. And yet…a part of him almost wanted to.
Foolishness. Bakura shoved these thoughts away and concentrated on the supple flesh before him. "Love." Men died for "love". Bakura would not die for "love". No matter how delectable Ryou's flesh tasted…no matter how much he liked when the boy whimpered his name like that as he ran his nails over his tingling skin…
No matter what.
-------------------------
"Summon the Royal Guard! Have them search the entire palace! Tell them not to come back empty-handed!" Blue eyes flashed dangerously at the end of this statement, warning them not to disobey him. Or else. It was silently added.
Seto stormed angrily about the floor, clearly plotting, clearly seething. The other Priests stood by him, watching him, thinking, some silently praying. Isis was in the process of trying to call to the lost Item with the powers of her own. That never worked.
Yami sighed. From his place on the throne, he thought he had been dealt the most responsibility over the matter. And what a humiliating matter it was. Someone—an unknown someone, nonetheless—barging into his sleeping chambers and stealing the last owner-less Sen-Nin Item that lay just beyond their beds. Such humiliation was not heard of in the entire kingdom until now. As usual, Yami was the one to suffer from it.
By the Gods…he thought, resting his head in his hands. What is to be done? He was not lamenting. No, no pharaohs did not lament. He was distraught. That had to be the proper word.
"Was not someone in the entire palace awake?" Seto yelled suddenly.
The priests did not readily answer him. Yami lifted his head. How dare Seto blame this on them? He was just as responsible as they were. But he left it. Right now, the pharaoh found that he had not the strength to argue with Seto.
He was so tired…so very tired. Sleep came sparsely these days. Yet, there seemed to be something else bothering his sleep patterns…lately he had felt that the tiredness generated from his very bones and spread all over his body accordingly. How could he fight something in his bones? The usual magical remedies did not help…what the hell was the matter with him? So tired…Yami almost fell asleep on that very, unfairly obligatory chair…so tired…
"Pharaoh!" A squeaky voice roused him.
A tri-colored head shot up, earrings and spangles, (the few he had put on in the rush), jingling with the movement. "…Yes?" He asked his vizier. All seven of those in his company were staring at him expectantly.
"We asked quite a few minutes ago whether or not you had a solution to this rather distressing problem at hand?" Siamun's eyes darted around from underneath his ceremonial headdress and above the facial covering he used. Yami had come to hate those darting eyes lately, always on the move, always planning, always expecting, always demanding…
"I do not," Yami admitted. "However, I do not think the proper plan is to deal meaningless punishment on all those affiliated with the incident." He looked right at Seto when he said this. The blue-eyed priest merely narrowed his eyes and stared right back. Of course Seto blamed him for this. He would blame Yami for the apocalypse if it came at the right moment. A few of the other priests nodded their heads in agreement.
Isis stepped forward and kneeled down to face the pharaoh. "What would you have me do, My Lord?" she asked, rather desperately he thought.
Immediately the images of the night came back to him. He remembered falling asleep finally, (after much undesired persuasion for his weary but adamantly conscious mind), and dreaming of something. Yami closed his eyes briefly to remember the dream. It had been of…something…he remembered darkness and fire. People were screaming. Blood. A dagger in his hand. And then…white…What had he dreamt? Alas, it was not important. Yami shook the ideas from his mind. Soon his dreams had turned to one thing only: Bakura. White hair cascading down his back, draped in a brown cloak, Sen-Nin Ring in hand, Bakura had dashed through the sleeping chambers making fools of them all.
Why had he dreamt of Bakura? That thief was locked away in the dungeons, never to see the light of day again. Surely the Tomb Robber could not have stolen the Item, of course…was this correct?
He turned to Isis. "What did you dream of tonight, Priestess Isis?"
Still kneeling, only not quite as low as before, she said, "I was not asleep, Pharaoh. I was in prayer. The gods were revealing to me the course of the future—a foreboding one it was—when suddenly a saw man. He was running with the Sen-Nin Ring while severe pain coursed through me…I do not remember anything else until I ended my prayer and awoke to find you all in front of the Bound and Sealed."
"What did the man look like?" Yami wished he had her eyes to focus on when speaking to her. He found it difficult to concentrate when talking to someone without their eyes. Should he have been used to this, however? Being a pharaoh, barely anyone looked him in the eye.
"Well…" her voice wavered. "I do not know if this s correct logic or correct fact, but the man…he looked like the Thief Bakura."
The other priests nodded. Kalim stepped forward and genuflected towards his ruler alongside Isis. "My Lord, I too was in meditation. I also saw the Thief Bakura presented to me by the gods." They never referred to him as a Thief "King". To do so would be blasphemous. There was only one king in Egypt, a fine solitary god. Though unfortunately a very tired one…
"Are we all in agreement that Bakura is the one we saw in our visions?" Yami inquired. Murmurs and nods of agreement answered him. Everyone except Seto was in agreement.
"Do you not agree, Priest Seto?" Yami raised an eyebrow in his direction. Where exactly had the lean, slightly devious man been that night? It had taken him a while to appear by the Bound and Sealed after the rest of them had awoke to marvel at the mystery. Obviously he had not been in his room.
The priest bristled. A shadow crossed over blue. "I was not in prayer or in sleep. So I cannot answer your question."
"Where were you, then?" Yami asked.
Seto lifted his head, defiant and eager for argument. "I see not how that is relevant to this conversation or this discussion. It is not I who have stolen the items, you all say it is Bakura. But might I remind you that this is impossible? Bakura is locked away in the pharaoh's deepest dungeons. How could he possibly free himself from that pit of hell, slink around the palace to the sleeping chambers, then to Bound and Sealed—the very cabinet that houses the Items, which no outsider knows of—to steal the Ring? All without being caught?" He flourished his speech with flicks of his hands and tosses of his head. The end of his protestations came with an unreasonably extreme question.
"Do you need more proof, or are you all too preoccupied by prayer to answer for yourselves?"
At this, most of the priests turned slightly cold. They all knew that Seto believed prayer to be a waste of time, (rather ironic for a priest, but he was chosen not for his holiness). They wanted to rebuke Seto, but they dared not to elicit an argument in front of their lord.
Only Akhenaden—who had actually risen from his bed for this discussion—responded. "Prayer is a priest's communication with the gods," he said, appearing behind Seto suddenly. "It is something sacred, certainly not a thing to mock. Perhaps if you had been in prayer, Priest Seto, then we might be able to ascertain clearer answers on this subject." The raspy voice echoed over the palace compartment. Seto had a retort for that, too, but Yami silenced him quickly.
"Alright. That's enough. Arguments get us nowhere. None of us can explain the visions presented to us, so why bother trying? The important issue is that we find the thief…" He gulped after this word. Thief. That word could only sound like "Bakura" now. "…and retrieve the Item…" His finish was not as strong as he would have liked because of the gulp, but the pharaoh knew his message was taken strongly.
Shada stepped forward, not bothering to bow for he spoke to everyone present. "I agree with Priest Seto that it does not make sense for Bakura to be the one responsible. Although I was not in prayer, meditation or sleep at the time, so I cannot account for what you saw, I think it best we try to find someone who is a more logical candidate."
Yami nodded to the priest, glad for someone's eyes to gaze in that were not coated in hatred or masked by a Sen-Nin item. Who else would want to steal the items? No one in the palace knew of their power. Yami tossed his bangs to the side in frustration. It made no sense…his mind worked furiously to think of the possibilities.
"If not Bakura, then who?" asked Siamun, who by rights had no say in the conversation, regardless, (yet who also managed to get a word in every conversation, regardless).
"Someone would have to be crazy to even attempt such a thing," Seto remarked, signs of disgust visible in the shadows of his face.
Or in love. Thought Yami. He had come to recognize both love and insanity as one in the same. Not that he had ever been in love…
Suddenly the palace doors barged open. Audible shouts and screams were heard from the outside. Yami and the others immediately rose to attention at the red face guard before them, trained from the night's events as well as years of past experiences.
"My Lords! Please come quick! The Thief Bakura is escaping!"
At once, they heard shouts of maniacal laughter that they all knew so well. Yami's violet eyes widened as he ran on stumbling feet with his consorts to meet the face he knew so well. Bakura…could not…was not…he…the Ring…it…
And yet it was all true at the sight of Bakura's grinning face, running through the palace with the Ring in one hand. Bullets of dark magic flew out at the guards, striking them invisibly. Blood gushed from unseen wounds and splattered the thief victoriously, it seemed, to him. Countless bodies lay in his wake, so many dead.
"Bakura…" Yami's mouth stumbled to produce the sound, the three syllables that had haunted his thoughts for his entire imprisonment. The thief ran through the palace, in high pursuit, body the same as Yami remembered, except for a few scars along the visible parts of his arms and legs. While the rest of the priests were running, shouting, trying to fight his shadow magic with their own Items, Yami felt like he was floating. Not…possible…
"My Lord!" shouted a wounded guard, noticing Yami's lethargy. "Stop him!" This man is fatally wounded…he thought. While I stand here thinking…No. He would not allow this. The pharaoh shook himself and ran to the front of the chase. He could think about the possibilities later. Now he needed to stop Bakura.
"Tomb Robber!" called Yami, seeing his back very much out of reach, almost out of the palace, from where he stood. "What are you thinking? This is insanity! You cannot hope to escape from this place!" Yami gazed at the running form in front of him, now turning…form? Did not he mean forms? There was someone with him…someone with white hair and a cloak draped around his slender, pale figure.
There were…two Bakuras? Two Bakuras? Two? Yami shook his head. No, no there was only one Bakura. The other was just a boy that looked like him, his figure was so very different from Bakura's when under close scrutiny. By the Gods…Yami realized that was the figure he had seen in his dream.
Bakura turned around to face him. Misty blue eyes saturated with mania met his fervent gaze. He stood at the door to the palace, running still, but talking. "Cannot hope, Pharaoh? It looks as if I already have!" Sure enough, with two more steps the thief king was out the door and running on the parapet at the edge of the palace.
Bakura could not believe this was happening. The cold early morning Egyptian light washed over his slightly pale face and arms, (he had spent too long in that hellish dungeon), and the fresh breeze settled on his skin. And now to finish, he would defeat the pharaoh at this running game. Sheer joy gushed through his pumping veins.
The boy at his side was wide-eyed and panting. "Keep going, Ryou, keep running," he encouraged. The boy turned to him and nodded vigorously. Ryou was a little frightened—so much excitement, this was definitely illegal, and all those poor people his lover had killed—but he was with Bakura. Nothing could happen to him when he was with Bakura. Besides, he was not nearly as frightened as he was when he had stolen the Sen-Nin Ring.
Pleased with his lover's acceptance of the situation, Bakura grinned and turned around to face the horde of people following him. They were at the very edge of the parapet, high above the sands below them. Yet still, the pharaoh and his followers were far behind them.
Yami could not believe he had let Bakura get that far ahead of him…wait. Why was he stopped? Unconsciously Yami slowed down to hear him while everyone else plunged forward.
Bakura gripped tightly onto the Sen-Nin Ring. Holding it in the air as high as his arm could reach, he shouted at the top of his lungs, "You thought you could defeat me, Pharaoh? Foolishness! You can never defeat me! I am the Great Thief King Bakura!"
Behind him, Ryou clung desperately to his arm. Alright…so what was his plan now? The ground below them looked like so much of a drop…and why was he letting their pursuers get closer? Ryou looked up at his lover's face. It seemed that any hints of sanity were gone. Still, the boy was not afraid. He trusted Bakura. Completely.
The tomb robber was in the middle of a boisterous laugh that rang out over the entire kingdom. The pharaoh stopped completely in his tracks as he suddenly realized what Bakura was going to do. Also, the sight before his eyes was one to marvel at in inexplicable wonder. The sight of Bakura standing in front of a sunrise, where the red light reflected off his paleness and the blood on his figure making him look almost…inhuman. Yami felt his jaw drop.
"I will return, Pharaoh!" The creature shouted at him. "We will meet again! You may have beaten me once, but never again! Never! Do you understand? I will NEVER give you that chance! Until then, guard the Sen-Nin items well!" At this, he smirked and said in a lower tone, "You never learn, do you?"
Turning to Ryou, Bakura nodded. Ryou closed his eyes and nodded. His lover was insane after all. But he trusted him. Of course he trusted him.
Ryou let himself be swept into Bakura's arms in a latching embrace. Then the thief king jumped from the parapet, hoping to land on the soft sands below. In the air, Ryou closed his eyes, not wishing to see what the sky looked like falling away from you. In the darkness, it felt like he was suspended in time with the one person that mattered, covering him and protecting him to the very last.
Consequently, Ryou was almost sad when their bodies crashed onto the sands. At the sudden pain, his eyes burst open. Bakura quickly got off of him and helped him to his feet. "We must go, Ryou. Now! No time!" Ryou felt like he could not breathe…he could not breathe…his lungs were drowning in something, they were not working…he could not breathe…oh, Ra, let me breathe so I can run with Bakura…But his lungs would not work. Again, his lover swept him into his arms and began running across the desert half carrying, half embracing his poor, strangled Ryou.
"We're free, Ryou," he whispered in the boy's ear. Through the vacuum that had defeated his lungs, Ryou managed a smile.
Freedom. At last. Life. At last.
From the parapet, guards halted looking down at the retreating figure of Bakura.
"Don't just stand there, you idiots! After him!" Seto yelled. Not a single person moved. It seemed that Bakura had eluded them. Once again.
"It's no use, Seto," Shada called from his side. "We must train to fight another day." Seto stared at him, masking his incredulity. Apparently, he disagreed.
Yami stood at very edge of the parapet, focused on the imprint in the sand where Bakura and that boy had landed. Who was that boy? Yami had never seen him before, except in his dream. Judging by his stature, he was clearly a slave. A slave? What was Bakura doing with a slave? How had he healed himself like that? All of this made little sense; Yami's mind felt like a sword that had been folded and hammered too many times as to make it dull. He needed time to mull all this over.
Standing in the early morning light, Yami faced all his followers. Disappointment showed plainly on their faces. Now that Bakura was back, the kingdom would once again wallow in a state of disarray. Thieves and murders on the loose, defiled tombs, unsafe towns, torture devices the only means of maintaining peace, which made no sense whatsoever…all Yami's fault. His subjects stared at him, hoping to receive some kind of hope in all this.
Violet eyes stared back at them, unsure of what to say. "I…" he began. Silence met his voice. That was not the way to go. "This kingdom will not suffer from this. We have defeated him once, we can do it again. Have faith. The gods protect us." Sure, it was sad. Sure, it was unbelievable because of Bakura's previous monologue. Sure, it was untrue. But he had risen to the challenge. It was all anyone could expect of him.
A few more minutes of silence, and then Kalim stepped forward and shouted, "There are wounded men! I want all those dead put in the embalming preparations room! Gather up all the healers! All those wounded will receive the best care possible! All those fatally wounded, do whatever you can. Remember that kindness heals as much as a blessed salve!" Immediately, the guards and followers scrambled to carry out his commands. Only the High Priests, the vizier, and the pharaoh remained on the parapet.
Seto just stared at him, eyes narrowed in hatred and disgust. If there was ever a time for Seto to hate him, it would have been most warranted at that time. "This is on your hands, Pharaoh," he spat. Then he whipped his cape around and stormed off the parapet to help Kalim with the wounded.
He stopped halfway there. Turning slightly around in his tracks, he looked at Yami with one deadly blue eye. The pharaoh felt that eye pierce his heart momentarily. "You know, that thief was right about one thing. You never learn." That said, the disgruntled yet agile priest continued the rest of the way.
Akhenaden remained only a short while longer. He was still very weak, and now that Bakura had returned the old man had reason to fear for his life. So, he called upon a few servants to assist him back to his bed. He shuffled off behind Seto, wobbling unsteadily.
Shada passed by Yami, bowed briefly, and said only one fatal sentence, "I will work harder, my Pharaoh." Somehow those words stung more viciously than Seto's. Yami had failed the believers like Shada. And Mahado…his eyes glazed over.
Isis and Siamun remained. After a few minutes, Isis rushed over to her liege. Yami was surprised that she had not even bothered to bow as she usually did without restraint. Instead, the priestess placed an understanding hand on his sun-darkened shoulder and said, "I do not blame you," in a strong voice. It was almost as if she commanded him not to take responsibility. Useless. There was only one person to blame.
When Isis left, Siamun stood by Yami as he gazed into the newborn sun searching for answers to the questions burning inside him. "You know…" began the old man. "Isis told me that the boy with Bakura was the one you witnessed in your dreams. Is it he who stole the Sen-Nin Ring?"
"Yes. It was him." Listlessness emanated off of him in a dark cloud.
Siamun thought then said, "Interesting. The Sen-Nin items, as you well know, choose who should carry them. That boy looked like nothing but a mere slave. How can you explain how the Item accepted that boy's hands to wield the Ring?"
Yami had not even thought about that. "I cannot." Another pressing matter. "I shall consider it later, Vizier. Right now there are wounded men to attend to." He turned his back on the panoramic view of the desert. Beauty would wait. Everything would wait. There was so much to do…Yami looked for the familiar pressing tiredness in his bones.
Amazingly, he found that it was not there.
--------------------------
The sun. It was a ball of fire blazing high above their heads like a defining glow of determination. Both Ryou and Bakura were sweaty and tired. It must have been around noon. They had been walking nonstop for hours.
Ryou had known exhaustion before. However, he had never known the power of the sun to be so brutal before. If only he could rest a bit…long ago had he finished the bottle of water in this pouch that he had brought to sway passersby into believing him an innocent, (oh, I'm just out for a nightly clean…). He turned to the man beside him. Bakura sweated, but seemed unaffected by the heat. Alas, his lover was an amazing man…
Bakura was too busy plotting to notice discomfort. He could bask in the sunlight for ages without feeling bothered. These unrelenting desert sands were what he had grown up with as a child without a village to call home. More importantly, the subjects on his mind were of revenge. Yes, freedom was his and that was a blessing in itself. Now what was he going to do with this blessing?
Damn it. The boy on his side was lagging behind again. There was no time to be tired. He turned to Ryou. "Keep moving," he instructed, trying to entice a wave to energy in him. Ryou looked at him and smiled his classic, modest smile. Whatever you say, Bakura. And yet weariness showed in the sweat pouring from his irreproachable features. The boy was tired. He needed rest. Their destination would wait…maybe just a few more minutes.
"Let's rest a bit." Bakura grasped Ryou's thin elbow and propped him up against a sand dune. Noon was always the worst of the heat. They would move on again in about a half hour…maybe when the sun was not quite so high.
Ryou looked glad to be resting. He panted and put up a frail hand in defense against the sun. Bakura merely sat next to him to wait. There really was no time…if they were going to get anywhere by nightfall they needed to move. Still…he could not deny the look of pure exhaustion on his lover's face as he sweated out the liquid held loosely within his thin body. Maybe Ryou just needed water? There certainly was none of that. By nightfall they needed to reach the nearest town. That would hydrate poor Ryou.
If only they could move a little faster…
Oh well. At least Bakura had the Sen-Nin Ring…how exactly did that help him, again? It could not reproduce water for his love. Yes, but it would offer many prosperous opportunities when they reached the town just a little bit to the west. Yes…Bakura smirked as he envisioned screaming faces, choking on their own blood, begging him for mercy yet receiving none…
Suddenly he felt something warm and clammy settling on his shoulder. He turned to see Ryou sleeping soundly with his head resting peacefully on his left side. No.
"No, no Ryou…you must not sleep. We will not get anywhere in sleep! No!" He shook the boy. All fruitless. Ryou was dead asleep. Damn, damn, damn. Bakura growled low in his throat. There was no time for this foolishness!
Letting out a deep roar—(which did nothing to rouse Ryou)—Bakura tried to calm himself. After all, the sun was still very much centered in the sky. He had not fulfilled his own promise yet. Give it a little more time…a little more time…Time they did not have…
The sun was behind them. Finally. Night had begun to fall. Bakura's spirits fought against the restraints in his stomach. Was this a victory, then?
What victory? He shouted at himself. We're not even in the next town over! Ryou had had to stop numerous times along their journey. On time, the boy had fallen flat on his face during their walk, unable to rise again. That time they needed to rest for over an hour. This whole thing was taking much longer than Bakura first anticipated. And that angered him.
But alas…nightfall. Soon the temperatures would be freezing and below. Bakura could already see stars appearing in the hazy sky. They needed to find a place of maximal warm quickly. Otherwise they would be stuck defenseless in the cold. Ryou could not stand that, either.
"Come, my love." Finding a spot that looked surrounded by dunes, Bakura directed the weak boy to a temporary safe haven. At least if anyone had been sent from the palace to find them, the two would never be seen. Sand dunes framed them on every side. "We'll sleep here for the night." It seemed the only logical thing to do.
Ryou immediately laid himself down in the middle of the plateau-like region, unprotected against the creeping night air. Bakura was about to cold him for doing so when he realized the attraction his lover held for him in that position…so vulnerable…so exposed…
Today had been a victory, Bakura supposed. They were free from that wretched palace, (from its dungeons and slave life). And the pharaoh had had his own impudence thrown in his face. A distinct joy levitated his internal organs. That alone was something to partake in.
Partake? A victory celebration? Again Bakura gazed at the susceptible figure before him…yes, partake…yes…
The thief moved and sat himself on Ryou's stomach, straddling the boy's hips. Weak eyes opened and stared at Bakura's own in tiredness. Indeed, Ryou's companion never grew tired of sex. Not that Ryou minded. They were both out in the open now. The very liberty of their situation aroused him greatly. He never knew autonomy to be such an exhilarating experience…
Bakura shifted his position needlessly, causing a slight groan from the boy beneath. "Tomorrow is the day we move quickly, Ryou. You understand?" The former slave nodded. Ryou knew he had moved altogether too slowly that day. But he was unprepared. Tomorrow he knew what was expected of him and he would do it with fervor and willingness. Anything to please Bakura, to gain his love and companionship…
---------------------------
The sun officially set behind them. Now it was dark out and quite cold…Ryou began to shiver.
The tomb robber leaned down from his high position to where their bodies were almost touching, covering the shivering form with his own body heat. Ryou smiled. It was warmth when they touched like that…Bakura gently placed his lips on top of Ryou's, engulfing his thin lips in succulence. Soon, (as always with the thief), the kiss turned to ravishing as Bakura grew hungry for more touch.
Strong hands traveled up the lithe formation of ribs that Ryou sported. Slowly, with his own feet, Bakura began to spread open the boys exhausted legs, and position readily. Moving out of the kiss to give them time to breathe, Bakura leaned into an ear and whispered, "I love you," for the second time in his life. Inexpressible joy gushed through Ryou's veins. He said it…it must be true now. His lover licked the cold shell and began to undress.
Later on in the evening, Ryou and Bakura lay wrapped up in each other, hopelessly entangled in a mess of limbs that seemed connected to the same solitary body no matter how a person looked at it. Ryou had long since fallen into a peaceful sleep, feeling protected in the arms of his lover. Tomorrow he would not fail him…no…tomorrow was the good day. That he promised to himself in the last minutes before sleep settled in.
Bakura, however, lay awake. Uneasiness had overtaken him suddenly. He had proclaimed to love the boy again tonight. Without even thinking about it. That was unacceptable. He could not "love" anyone! The first time he said it, alright, he was under the influence of excitement due to the Item resting beside him for the first time in months. But this time…had he really meant it?
"Love". So preposterous. He could not…could not? Had he said "could" and not "would"? What did that mean?
Damn it all. Damn this whole fucking thing. Bakura scrambled out of the blissful arrangement of body parts he and Ryou kept. He strode around the perimeter of the dunes, naked in the night freeze.
Why? The same question. Why have I let myself be taken over by this boy? This boy…who lay unprotected without Bakura standing closely nearby. This boy…who refused to speak more than a word to him. This boy…who so completely captured his waking thoughts…
Damn. "DAMN!" He screamed to the night air. Ryou did not stir. Only the solitude—no, the companionship—of his voice rang back at him. Why did this bother him so much? So what if he might actually…love Ryou? It did not matter! Did it?
Yes it does…the boy is such a nuisance at times. Right. How could he forget the events of that day when all his love could do was stumble in frailty to receive a face full of sand? How pathetic was that?
And yet…that was not the cause of his emotions. It was this…love business. Love was dangerous. True? Maybe. Maybe not, as well. But definitely dangerous. It was a danger he could not afford here in this life. This life of endless retribution for crimes committed against his race. This life that demand full concentration and constant pain. Pain kept your mind sharp, after all. A life of privilege leads to a pampered psyche. Such a psyche can never deal ultimate vengeance. No. Bakura needed to stay sharp to remain in the perfect mindset to kill the pharaoh.
That was the only thing that mattered.
Where did Ryou fit into all that? This life? This revenge? This need of constant pain? Bakura could only think of one way.
Then it was settled. He needed to do this as soon as possible to avoid any more setbacks. Tomorrow. Tomorrow? Yes tomorrow. Tomorrow…that divine day.
Ryou…mist blue eyes settled back on his lover. Thin strands of white hair were scattered all over the boy's face. His body was twisted from the force with which Bakura had stormed off. He looked so completely innocent, something that had intoxicated the tomb robber from the first moments of his tender touch. He remembered that moment in the darkness when he felt Ryou's touch. At that moment his heart had turned. The thief king knew it. But…he needed his heart the way it was before that touch. He needed to turn it back. That was the only way to succeed with the life he had chosen for himself.
The thief settled back in, folding the boy in his arms. Vaguely, Ryou opened his eyes and gazed at his lover. A small question appeared on his face. Are you feeling alright?
Bakura stroked the soft white hair, coaxing him back to sleep. Ryou soon saw that there was nothing to worry about in his lover, so sleep returned to him. Rest was what he needed for tomorrow anyway, the boy reasoned.
The thief sighed upon seeing unconsciousness regain control over Ryou. This needed to be done. He had been postponing it for a while now. It was the right thing to do, for both Ryou and himself. Meaningless lives all wound up the same, anyway. Bakura was determined not to make his life meaningless. That's why he did this.
But…if this was the right thing to do…then why these tears? Tears, what tears? Bakura reached a hand up to his face and drew back with moisture settling on his fingers. Strange acceptance reached into his heart like spindly fingers, warming the organ temporarily. Tears. Damn it all.
The thief decided to let the tears go. Whatever. Instead, he rested his own head on top of Ryou's and let a cold, unthinking consciousness settle over his mind. He did not sleep that night, but for the rest of his life he could not remember anything he thought about at the same time.
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"Why give yourself up like this, Tomb Robber?"
Bakura was mumbling to himself. The sun had risen again. Morning at last. The tomb robber could not remember falling asleep…but he had thought of nothing provoking. It mattered not.
Ryou was just waking up. Bakura watched as his lover stretched and sat up, searching for his lover in silence with a questioning look on his face. Finally, his eyes rested on the indifferent figure of the thief he had come to know completely. A smile warmed the boy's features.
"Get up and get dressed. We have much distance to cover today." Bakura was already dressed. Ryou guessed he had been plotting for a few hours. He had that look in his eye. Nodding quickly—a sure sign of determination—Ryou reached for his discarded clothing.
Apathy had nestled into the folds of Bakura's emotions. There it lay. How fortunate, he thought.
Ryou dressed quickly, eager to start on their journey. He wanted to get to the next town and see what kind of people lived there. It was possible someone knew him there; he had lived in all sorts of places as a child. Maybe someone even remembered poor Amane…Did he want that? Maybe. Either way, Ryou decided to leave it up to chance what happened there.
Bakura had his back facing the boy. Ryou did not understand why. So he moved closer to his love and ran his hands over the strong shoulders he knew so well. Bakura smiled, turning around to face the boy. A smile? Happiness bolted through Ryou. He loved seeing him smile like that.
Bakura searched Ryou's face for any signs of distrust. He found none. Good. The thief then pulled Ryou into a deep hug. An actual hug. Ryou was surprised—Bakura never liked to hug unless it led to some type of love making. But he went with it. If this is what his lover wanted, Ryou loved the feeling of Bakura's arms wrapped around him. A contented expression smoothed his face.
Suddenly, warm breath slid over the boy's skin. "I love you," the thief said softly. Third time in his life. Ryou curled his own arms around the man and leaned forward. In Bakura's ear, he whispered in a soft voice, "I love you, too."
Speech? Bakura was shocked for a moment. But the apathy returned quickly, allowing him to notice the sounds as merely a given. A distraction. Bakura moved one hand from around the boy into his cloak.
One movement. Shlck.
Blood began to drip from the corners of Ryou's thin, kiss swollen mouth. Currently his lover's hand reached clear through his stomach, grasping tightly onto his master's dagger, drenched in blood.
"You are my little sacrifice."
Bakura held onto one of Ryou's shoulders and pulled his arm out of his lover's gut. A lifeless body fell to the ground gracelessly. A contented expression still graced the boy's features, as if he had died accepting the death as a happy duty, although that was certainly untrue. Ryou had never even seen it coming. Perhaps it was that happiness written all over his face that frightened Bakura so. The corpse, bloodied and motionless, with a gaping hole in his abdomen, looked eerie with the mixture of childlike joy and vicious death displayed synonymously on the same body.
Covered in Ryou's hot blood, Bakura settled the dagger into his cloak. He reassured himself by feeling for the Sen-Nin Ring, which still graced his side. He had made a necklace for it using some of the silks Ryou had obtained. Bakura no longer associated the Ring with Ryou. That part of his life was over now.
Facing the sun and the brunt of the wind, hoping to find something he needed an answer to in the picturesque vision of Egypt he dwelled within, Bakura attempted to find his heart beneath all the apathy. Had it turned back, yet? The boy was dead. It had every reason to return to normality.
Leaving the cadaver exactly where it had fallen, not bothering to offer any respect for the journey into the afterlife, Bakura headed into the sun to await the turning of his heart. Strangely, however, it never would. Years would pass. A lifetime. And it never would.
Sacrifice. Ryou…Bakura held a hand to his head. Pain shot through him. The apathy was wearing off. By Ra he was in pain…damn it…though it was not a pain that made him double over and vomit on the side of the trail as he had done in the dungeon. This was a more absolute pain. One he would remain a prisoner to forever.
Bakura found something quite odd as he walked into the sun on the day he killed his lover. Sacrifice meant nothing to him. It was the truth. And yet…perhaps it was this sacrifice that proved to be the most meaningful thing in his life.
The End
A/N: Yes, I know. Bakura is not the kindest. So, how many of you were expecting that ending? I wasn't sure if I was making it like a twist or something…eh? What's that you say? The mob? The mob it cries for blood? Aww, I'm sorry you guys. But think about it. That was the best way for the story to end. Would anyone like a plushie to abate their sadness? (hands out Seto plushie) Better?
Sorry for the length of this chapter, by the way. Heh, imagine. I once had this entire thing as a one-shot. Ehe? Well. Anyway, I know it got long in the middle when Ryou was stealing the Ring and stuff. I know that usually the Millennium Items are kept in that little hieroglyphic figure with the impressions of each Item, but isn't that stored in the catacombs or something? I thought about doing that, but no matter how hard I tried I could think of a reason why Ryou or Bakura would know that they were there. So I totally made something up that's not in the manga and never will be. Don't hate me, please!
Thanks for reading this story, you guys! I hope you enjoyed it! I will get back to my other story soon enough, I promise. Still, to fallen-angel-of-repression, happy birthday! Heh, I know that was like a month ago. But still. It's dedicated to you.
Thanks again guys! Until next time, happy reading!
--Seto'swhiterose
