The next chapter! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the idea!
Victory and Vengeance
He clutched at his head as if in pain and screamed as the skin of his forehead swelled and protruded into an all too familiar shape of an eye.
Wadjet's eye, Yami recognized immediately.
"He's coming, he's coming!" The ghoul screamed but it was not a cry of pain.
It was fear.
His eyes bulged open in terror and through the haze of shaking and weeping he squeaked out the words "He's here...Lord Marik."
His arrival was like a summer storm: powerful and sudden but only to those misfortunate enough to be in its path. Yami felt it like a gust of wind though no one else did. Even Jounouchi looked more bewildered than alarmed like he was confronting a mad man—the worst thing was that he just might be.
The Rare Hunter's eyes rolled back in his head and when they looked up again they were vacant and empty like a doll's. The man's long gangly body hung flaccid: arms limp at his side, head lobbed foreword, shoulders lose, legs bent like they weren't supporting his weight but rather just hung there: the whole affect was that of a still, marionette held up by a puppeteer's strings. The reality of that image made the young king shudder.
Then the puppet did something truest awful: it spoke.
"Keh keh...are you Yugi? I've heard of you..." he spoke in a voice and with a manner that was not his own. "The man you faced was the weakest of my rare hunters. Rest assured their real strength is much stronger."
Disembodied but higher, honeyed sounding younger, more sinister, and thick with an accent Yami recognized for it spoke of hot desert suns and sandy dunes.
"Oh, did I surprise you?" The voice mocked. "The person you're talking to isn't the shell you see before you. I'm in a place a bit farther away..." the puppeteer bragged. Yami felt bile rise in the back of his throat when he referred to ghoul as a "shell", a coat to try on and throw away when it ceased to be useful. A skin to be shed and discarded. Jounouchi's microphone comparison sounded more humane.
"Who are you!" The pharaoh demanded in a voice hard with authoritative rage.
The puppeteer chuckled with the ghoul's lips. "I am Marik. Remember that."
Yami stood his ground, unyielding.
"And I know you 'Yugi'" the puppeteer, Marik, continued though there was something odd in the way he'd said Yugi's name, like he knew it did not belong to Yami himself, but had nothing else to call him. Just as quickly, the hesitance was gone and Marik boasted proudly, "Like you I was chosen by a Millennium item." An arrogant chuckle. "Taking over a person's mind, and controlling their speech and actions as if they were my own..." A deliberate pause. "That is the power of my Millennium Rod."
The Millennium Rod.
The seventh Millennium item.
The one Ishizu has warned him about.
There was no doubt in Yami's mind now. This man...this person...this Marik. He was the one Yami was destined to defeat.
X X X
A giddy sort of power rushed through Marik at the false King's furious, horror-struck face. The pride in knowing he'd emboldened that fear in the so-called all-powerful king—and the rage.
Those violet eyes burned crimson red as he bragged of his Rod's power and demonstrated it by making the fool dance like a marionette, almost surprised by the false Kong's reaction. It seemed out of character for a selfish, spoiled parasite to care for such a lowly life form. The Ghouls were not chosen for their moral character, rather for their immorals—it made it all the easier to dispose of them when their unscrupulous and disposable greed eventually failed them, the world a better place in their absence.
"Marik!" The bold King proclaimed, stepped forward, flames of determination blazing in his eyes and the air around him. "Why are you in this tournament?" He demanded with all the authority and order of one used to being obeyed. "Why are the Ghouls here?"
Marik didn't even flinch. Only snort. When he'd first glimpsed the man, who would be his rival he'd confessed to finding him a worthy opponent: his appearance, confidence, stature and manner all seeming to befit a king. Knowing now that he wore the skin of another, far better and worthier individual however, now Marik could not help but wonder how much of it was the Pharaoh himself, and how much was stolen from his beloved's far superior flesh and form.
Nevertheless, he chose to humor the brat's rant. It would be so easy to mock him that there was simply no sport on it, and Marik, despite his own less than moral character flaws, wanted to win in a fair battle.
A smile slit his face that he hoped the Pharaoh could see reflected on the puppet as he answered "to collect the God cards."
Oh, the satisfaction he felt seeing the shock and utter confusion on the false king's face.
It would be so easy to watch him flounder...
"According to the Ancient Egyptians, three stone slabs were said to possess the ultimate power: Slifer the Sky Dragon, the God of the Obelisk and the Sun Dragon Ra! The one who gathers all three cards and takes the title of King will be granted the Power of Darkness."
Recognition illuminated those eyes when he mentioned the title of king and the power of darkness. So, the fool king wasn't completely ignorant after all. Marik grinned, he always did enjoy a challenge.
He let all his confidence and certainty bleed into his next words "My Ghouls have already required two of the cards already. The one that remains is in the hands of someone in this town..."
Understanding fury flashed across the boy's face. His brows scrunched together in thought and his teeth grit in an obvious tell of frustration. He was pondering, Marik realized. Trying to fathom who possessed the third card but drawing no conclusions with the minuscule number of facts he possessed. And his dear sister thought this was the one destined to rule?
Marik only sneered.
His eyes fell on the Millennium puzzle resting peacefully against the fake king's chest. Thought of Yugi sleeping there, his innocent face breathing deeply as he dreamed completely unaware of what was transpiring and completely ignorant of the creature that had dug its way into his body and infested his souls with a trust born from false promises and pretty lies.
More determined than ever to free his beloved, he gestured to the stolen card and handed the Pharaoh the fool's locator card but not without a warning that he was the weakest of the Ghouls. Marik was anything if not honorable.
"Yugi," he sank the warning into the name. He despised calling this parasite by his beloved's treasures name, but he refused to acknowledge him as King. "The game has just begun. Already a rare hunter with a god card is lurking in your town. If you meet him, even with your skills...it'll be instant death!"
Marik launched himself into his laughter, expecting to see the coward rattled or even intimidated.
Anything but what he did do: he smirked.
Those bold, fiery eyes were not those of his gentle beloved nor was the smile that twisted and curled into a smirk. "We'll see about that," he bragged all fearless confidence. "I'm going to put an end to your plan." He took a firm stance, his lips unfurling to a hard line of fierceness and determination. "Listen Marik!" His tone commanded authority. "Even if your Rare Hunters attack me with the God cards, you can't stop me! I can't lose!"
Then, teeth bared, he pointed one finger through Marik's puppet and at Marik himself.
One finger, a curse and a damning.
A promise.
"I will defeat you, Marik."
Marik matches his declaration with a crocodile's grin. "I look forward to it."
And he relinquished control.
X X X
The man slumped forward unconscious like a puppet with its strings cut. Jounouchi confirmed it with a tap to the guy's shoulder with his foot.
Yami wasn't listening. His expression was elsewhere, vacant. He cast his eyes skyward but the heavens offered no answer. Marik's words rose up like shadows and Yami felt them stirring, like ghosts in the grave of his soul.
The title of King.
The Power of Darkness.
The three God cards.
Marik...
The owner of the Millennium Rod.
The man who had two of the three God cards.
But who could have the third?
That was the question that burned him, but one thing was clear: he needed to find those cards.
"And with luck, over the course of this tournament, I'll recover my lost memories..." he clenched his fist, resolute. "They're hiding somewhere in this city...the Rare Hunters ...and Marik controls them from the shadows. I don't know who he or what his goal is...are they waiting to ambush me in this steel-gray maze?"
He cast his gaze skyward, empowered. Smirked. "Just you wait Marik, I will be the one to ambush you! Marik, your Millennium Rod summoned me to battle, but I will crush the Ghouls...permanently!"
The Red-Eyes Black Dragon burned in his opposite hand, reminding him of her presence. He smiled and turned to his friend returning the card.
But Jounouchi did not take it.
X X X
Marik breathed out deeply as he relinquished the Rod's control.
He hid his exhaustion well—he'd always hidden it well.
Even when it nearly killed him.
Rishid knew that better than anyone.
His followers purposely waited until Marik had steadied his breathing before announcing their arrival arrival. Rishad remained in the shadows: always close, always listening.
"So…you have identified the owner of Obelisk." It wasn't a question.
"Yes, Lord Marik. Domino City, North Block C. The owner of the God of Obelisk is..." the man paused, deliberately. "Seto Kaiba."
A chuckle. Marik didn't even look surprised. "I should have known."
"But Lord Marik...how did Kaiba get his hands on the card?"
That was what he wanted to know.
Marik smirked, arrogant and all-knowing, and nothing like the sweet sibling Rishad had once adored. "I can imagine...he hosted this tournament because he got his hands on Obelisk. His whole purpose is to unify the gods...but he's just a puppet and only one person could've put the idea in his head."
Rishad's eyes widened, realization struck like fireworks and crashed against the utter impossibility of the truth.
No, surely not her. Not when she was just as loyal to the clan as Marik and himself and...
"I told you, Rishad." Marik whispered, a silent smirk to the darkness. "This stinks of our sister's scheming."
So, it was Ishizu, he thought with dull resignation. "But...why?" He could not fathom any possible reason how or why the young woman he'd called sister, the sweet, strong-willed girl Marik had adoringly called older sister as a child, the prophetess who dutifully possessed the Millennium Taunk could ever make such an uncalculated risk.
Kaiba's role in all of this was uncertain at best, his obsession for power and victory clouded his judgement now just as it had in his past life. It did not surprise Rishad the Rod has chosen his brother, even if it was thieved at the hands of...that other...it was Marik who it had chosen. Marik who it trusted. Marik who had the ambition, determination, and righteousness to accomplish all he set out to accomplish (be it his goal of freeing his clan and the world of pain—or winning the love of this boy who'd stolen his heart). Already reports showed Kaiba was favoring Obelisk in his dukes instead of his trademark Blue Eyes White Dragons.
Yet Ishizu has chosen him?
Rishad could not understand it.
"She must have sensed a possible future," Marik answered. "She knew that if she gave Obelisk to Seto Kaiba he would hold a tournament like this. And she knew that by the Gods' guidance, my fate and the Pharaoh's would intersect."
And the Pharaoh's host. Rishad realized seeing the sparkle in Marik's eyes—a light that had nothing to do with victory or vengeance.
Then vicious determination hardened those lavender eyes to amethysts. "But it does not matter. In the end, the God cards will come together in my hands along with the title of King..." a smile slid into place, a true smile, one Rishad had not seen since he was a small child who still had hope. "With Yugi as my Queen." He finished that particular statement with a romantic sigh.
It almost made Rishad smile.
"Kaiba is still in North Block. Shall I assemble the rare hunters to attack him?" Someone asked.
That confident, calculating smirk returned glittering with triumphant glee. "Kaiba is an extraordinary duel monsters player. Even the Rare Hunters will have a hard time now that he possesses Obelisk...to fight a God you need a God."
All around them, the Rare Hunters, gasped, horrified. Rishad did not flinch. "You...you wouldn't!"
Marik cut them off, eyes blazing with all regularity of a true king "I, who wield the Sun Dragon Ra will personally go to Domino City."
"But my Lord," Someone protested "must you dirty your hands?"
"Eventually I will have to fight Kaiba, but now that we know he has Obelisk, we can let him be for a while. He may even prove to be if use to us. Put somebody on Kaiba and do not lose him." He commanded with all the authority of a king. "Before that there is someone in Domino city who can entertain me."
They gasped. Rishad knew why and flinched for the first time. Entertain. It was a word Marik only ever used when he was filled with hatred. And only he knew just how deep that hatred ran. Who it was reserved for...and who it was not. That thought made Rishad nervous. He'd seen Marik's crush on the King's host quickly growing into affection. Surely, he would not risk the vessel in his quest for victory?
"You," he commanded with a single shift of his eyes "Where is Yugi at the moment?" The Rare Hunters scrambled to obey even as confusion was evident on their faces. Marik absorbed the information, his calculating gaze bright with pride.
"I see...there's only one place he could be going...Call Pandora and tell him to prepare for a duel."
And with that order Marik rose from his throne, Rod in hand and left the room. Rishad knew his stride: sure-footed, long-legged, his every step a command, his every movement a display of power, of force, as if commanding the universe to coincide with his desires. It was the stride of a man who had lost everything and had nothing left to lose.
Except...Rishad thought with a sudden clarity, reaching up to touch the scars etched into his face, specifically carved hieroglyphics that when together etched into a spell. A spell entrusted specifically to him for the protection of the one he'd come to love above all else, from the one whom he had loved most.
Except for Yugi.
X X X
The room was a temple, an alter designed and structured to the last detail in a matter befitting a god. No expanse had been spared in its honor. In the heart of the room was a glass cabinet made of gold engraved with Wadjet's eye. It was in this casket that the God of Ra slept.
Marik approached the creature with a mixture of respect and reverence, dignity and desire, victorious duty and lustful vengeance.
The card was light in his hands: a sign that, however he'd come to acquire it, the God was his, had chosen him. For this creature was the soul of a Pharaoh, the guardian beast of their forefathers and protector and guardian of all their descendants.
He thought of the false king when he looked at it, it's golden radiance reminding him nothing of the ruby-eyed young man whose essence of darkness and flame suited another favored God of the Kings but not the one of light and life, of the golden sun and the fertile black earth of the delta, but one known for his savagery and strength, of shadowy darkness and preference for fire and flame, of the dark bloody red sands of the vacant desert and the howling darkness of sudden storms.
He thought momentarily of Slifer, safe in the hands of his most loyal puppet and shook his head of the idea.
That interloper was no king, but a charlatan, a parasite, a usurper, a murderer, a spoiled, selfish creature who had imprisoned generations of his family to a life of enslavement, of blind obedience, of pain and darkness and death.
He pulled down his hood, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. His sandy gold mane spilling free. The purple robe slipped down his shoulders and off his back revealing the secret he kept hidden from the world: the true inheritance of the tomb keepers, the birthright of their ancient promise, the reward for their unwavering loyalty to this false king—the scars upon his back.
The perfect copy of the ancient scriptures that once existed upon a stone tablet, carved and etched into his skin down to the last and most gruesomely intricate detail.
Drawn in blood and flesh by the blade now concealed within the Millennium Rod.
Put there in place by his Father's own hand, just as it has been done to him.
An honor. The man had called it, not a cage but a fucking honor. A blessing, a purpose, a gift, a birthright. Those were the words he'd used. Those were the lies he'd drilled into his head as sharply and mercilessly as the blade had dug into his skin: how lucky Marik was to be chosen. How lucky he was to be a servant, to be a slave. How honorable it was to sacrifice his life in service to the Gods and their descendent as if Marik himself had made the choice—as if he'd had a choice. How grateful he should feel being chosen and heir to such an honor while all Marik felt was pain and he couldn't even cry out because his mouth had been gagged and when it was over the pain was so intense he'd feared he truly would die from it—as has been his greatest and most crippling fear as a child.
To this day he did not know how he'd survived.
Even now the scars ached and tingled with a phantom pain.
But he'd learned something that day: he'd learned who to hate.
He'd learned who was responsible for all his suffering and that of those he loved. Who was responsible for the their imprisonment.
Who was responsible for their enslavement and the pain he felt.
Who'd forced them into this way of life without any choice or hope.
Who was responsible for the madness and violence that had overtaken his father who'd always been a kind, loving man before this.
Who had stolen the everything from him and didn't even care!
Who'd had the audacity to smirk at him with those burning eyes and all too self-assured smile like this was all some stupid game and had dragged his beloved into his corrupted mess.
And now that same unworthy creature was trying to steal something else precious from him: someone more precious and purer than anyone or any being Marik had ever met or thought possible to be. Someone whose pure heart and purer soul awakened something in Marik he'd long thought was dead, and had not felt since that dark day all those years ago…
Light.
Love.
Life.
Hope.
"Yugi," the word was a precious prayer in his heart and mouth: sacred and grateful.
"I must take care of you both with my own hands."
He met the eyes of Ra, asking for its blessing and felt the power in his hands. A tingling like fire and lighting galvanizing his blood and bones with a determination more fierce than the fires of a thousand suns.
"I swear by these scars in my flesh, the scars of hatred, I will defeat that parasite and set you free."
His mind conjured the image of his sister, blinded by hope and visions of possibility and could not help but wonder if even now from the shadows, she was trying somehow, someway to save him. Save them both.
Ishizu had always cared too much, he'd known that the day of his tenth birthday when she'd spent it in her room praying for him and shedding the tears he, himself, had been forbidden.
It was always her greatest weakness.
"I'm sorry, sister. But I cannot forgive him."
The Usurper.
The Parasite.
The creature corrupting and using his beloved Yugi body and soul.
The man who killed their father.
Well this one took forever...I started it ages ago and ended up writing it in bit and piece until last night i FINALLY finished it! Man! It was hard giving this one enough distinction from the source materials, which was the main cause of the struggle-but give this is an experiment in perspective, I found it much easier once I switched the perspective of certain scenes (I'm personally very proud of Rishad's since he doesn't appear but you can just tell that he's there watching from the shadows, knowing so much more than anyone else-even Marik.
Re-reading the manga I also noticed something with Marik's intensity-I noticed that he uses Yugi's name when he means Yami and refers to Yugi as "the vessel" I think this confusion stemmed from the obvious fact that as Yami has no name, doesn't know is name and Marik wouldn't know and nickname Yugi gave him that he goes by, its safe to assume he would associate Yugi and Atem as the same person (and thus the "pharaoh" that murdered his father.
In the case of this fic however, he is acutely aware that Yami and Yugi are not the same person and his hatred and beef is with Yami but not Yugi himself (even in the manga he had nothing against Yugi personally, but as Yugi was determined to help Atem this led to him getting caught in the crossfire) I found this to be a very interesting twist.
Anyway, lots more foreshadowing hints ;) Enjoy!
