Disclaimer: I am not the owner of the YGO characters. But I do own this alternate universe and the plotline! )
Not How I Wanted
"Move, slave!"
Marik glared wrathfully at the man, but obeyed. He swung his arms as he walked, knowing that only the free walked like that. They can chain my body, but they can never chain my spirit. I will avenge my family!
"Don't," warned the woman behind him, reaching out and touching his shoulder. "You will only anger them further."
"So what?" growled Marik under his breath. He shook off her touch and walked a little faster, swung his arms a little higher.
When the column finally stopped, he looked ahead. Two men walked along the line; a tall, broad-shouldered man, who walked with a distinct military precision that was almost a march, and another whom Marik recognised as Akil, Lord Gahiji's assistant.
The sharp-faced man seemed to be inspecting them, but every so often he would say something to the military type and another person would be dragged out of line to be further inspected. Most were shoved back into place, but a few joined Akil, walking just behind him in a nervous group.
They drew closer, and Marik straightened his back, trying deliberately to be noticed. If he were Akil's servant, he would be near to Lord Gahiji… and the rest would work itself out.
"What are you, crazy? Do you want to be picked?" asked the woman behind him, he voice shaking a little as she looked fearfully at Akil. "Who knows where they're taking them!"
Marik turned around and faced her. His tone was dead serious as he muttered under his breath, "They're going to be Akil's slaves. That means they'll have access to him."
"Slave!" roared the military man, making Marik jump. "Face front, you little insolent piece of dirt! What do you think this is, eh?"
Marik raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yes," he said in an offhand voice. "I forgot for a moment that this was a slave parade, what with all those guardsmen and the fact that I'm chained up." He cocked his head to the side, and his eyes flashed dangerously. "And here I wad wondering whether or not you or him are the camp counsellor; I wanted to write home and complain about the shoddy treatment."
The man lashed out at him, knocking him to his feet with a sharp blow to the face. Doggedly, Marik kept talking, unable to stop himself. "Only thing that stopped me was, of course, the fact that I have no home, and even if I did, no family to write to. You see – ah!" He exhaled painfully as a hobnailed boot connected with his chest.
"Shut up!" growled the military man.
"You see," Marik wheezed, after a quick pause, knowing that if he stopped he'd lose his momentum. "Some bastard went and – " He stopped, twisting painfully to dodge an angry blow with the end of a scabbard. He could hear the other slaves muttering, at least a little of it encouraging. "He went and slaug – " Marik cut himself off with a sharp swearword, as another hobnailed boot connected. "Slaughtered them ALL!"
He was yanked to his feet, held up at eye level with the military man. His feet hovered a few inches off of the ground, kicking wildly.
"How dare you ignore a direct order from your superior? How dare you incite the rabble against His Lordship?" The military man drew back a fist. "This is how we deal with trouble makers like you where I come from!"
"Hold." The simple word was filled with authority as it flew from Akil's mouth. The thin man's mouth was twisted into a strange smile, almost a leer but not quite. It stayed on his lips for a mere moment, and Marik knew that he was probably one of the few who'd seen it at all.
The military man dropped Marik, saluting to Akil. "Yes, sir?"
Marik scrambled to his feet, wiping a trickle of blood off of his arm. Akil looked him up and down, and held his gaze for a moment. Marik met his look with a fierce one of his own. One side of Akil's mouth went up in a lopsided smile, and then dropped.
"Bring him." Ignoring the military man's stunned look, Akil continued in an uninterested tone, "I tire of this. Send the rest to the kitchens."
The military man recovered. "Yes, sir!" he barked, and signalled the men standing by the column. They cracked their whips, and the column started to move again, leaving Marik and the other chosen slaves in its wake. The military man scowled at Marik, and shoved him into line. He tripped over someone's leg and sprawled to the floor. The military man spat, the grey gob landing inches away from Marik's head. He swallowed the bile that rose up, and pushed himself to his feet.
"Right, you lot!" bellowed the man, ignoring him. "QUI-I-I-I-I-ICK MARCH!"
As they set off towards an impressive-looking mansion, the man fell into step with Marik.
"You wont always be so lucky," he said in a conversational tone, making sure his voice could only be heard by Marik. "Next time, Akil wont be there to save your hide. And when that day comes…" He smirked at Marik and began to walk back to the front of the little group. His shoulder knocked the boy forward, so he stumbled into the slave in front of him.
"Watch it!" the tall man snapped under his breath. "You want to get us killed or what?"
Marik muttered something vaguely apologetic and concentrated on walking exactly two steps behind the man. He had an enemy now, an enemy in a position of power. If he had judged the horrible man correctly, he was in for a rough time. Cursing his hot temper, he marched on towards the house where – hopefully – he would be able to begin the first part of his plan for revenge.
There y'have it, dorlin's. Now, don't ye forget what the magic word is!
No, not abrakadabra! Review!
Um... hint, nudge, wink. -blatant begging-