Refuseshipping (Marik's dad x Rishid)

(Yeah…he doesn't have a name which makes writing this difficult…so I have decided to call Marik's father Aqila, since it's an Arabic name…)

This was possibly…the most dangerous thing he had ever done. But it had to be done. For Marik's sake. For his own sake.

For the sake of the clan.

Rishid leaned against the wall, the cold stone calming him with its constant stability. The door was right beside him. He should go through, now, before he lost courage. But he could not move himself from the wall. He sighed, letting his head drop to his chest. It was humiliating to admit to himself, but he was terrified. He was about to face Aqila, the man who refused to believe he was anything more than trash, and try to convince him to bestow the greatest honor of their clan on Rishid instead of Marik.

Rishid would be lucky to get out of there with his life.

The creak of the bench brought Rishid out of his reverie, and a memory of a crying Marik in a corner brought his courage rushing back to him.

He had to do this.

Cautiously, quietly, he stepped into the opening.

Only candlelight illuminated the stone chamber, creating the eerie silhouette of Aqila's cowled form. He was bent over something on the table, writing with a quill. It snapped, and he swore softly, reaching for another.

Rishid made one more step into the room, trying to rehearse his words.

"What do you want?"

The harsh edge to the man's voice told Rishid that he already knew who was at the door. There was no turning back now. Rishid walked all the way into the room and inclined his head.

"Master," he said softly, because that was the only way he was allowed address Marik's father. "I have come to you for a request."

Aqila didn't even turn around. He barely even acknowledged the words. Rishid licked his dry lips and pushed forward.

"Marik…Marik is afraid of the initiation," he said. "He does not want to become the Tomb Keeper…"

"And your point is?"

The voice was like a whip, and Rishid flinched. But he had to go on. Slowly, he sank to his hands and knees, his face towards the floor.

"I…I would like to take the Tomb Keeper initiation in his stead," he said. "I am not afraid. I would like to take this burden for Marik –"

The motion was immediate. Aqila whipped around in his seat and flung the still lit candle at Rishid's back. Rishid flinched, but did not move from his place.

"You want to take Marik's place?" Aqila said, his voice dripping with venom. "You? You're nothing more than a piece of refuse we picked up off the ground!"

Rishid stiffened, but he still did not move. That didn't last long, though, because Aqila stood up so quickly that the bench fell over, and then grabbed Rishid by his ponytail. Rishid cried out as Aqila yanked him upwards by the hair, forcing him to look into his hollow, deep-set eyes.

"You don't have the right to be considered a part of this family, much less take the most honored position our clan holds!" he said, and spit came with the words.

With a harsh arm, he flung Rishid to the ground. The wind rushed out of Rishid's lungs in a whoosh.

"Get out of my sight," Aqila spat. "And be grateful this is all you got off with. Don't even think about coming to me for this request again."

He turned, righted the bench, and sat down. It was as though the gasping boy on the ground behind him no longer existed.

The pain, physical, and emotional, brought faint tears to Rishid's eyes. He slowly pushed himself up, taking only a brief moment to regain his breath. Then, with a hurting deep in his chest that had nothing to do with being slammed against the floor, he shuffled from the room, and did not enter again.

A/N: Uwah, Rishid-senpai! D: Darn you Aqila, I'm almost glad that you got stabbed to death. Next is Redeemshipping (Pegasus x Yami no Yugi).