Disclaimer: I don't own YGO…duh!
Chapter 9: Monster of the Night
Marik arrived at his father's chambers, wondering what else his father could possibly have to say. He approached the door, apprehensive. Truth be told, Lord Ishtar was probably the only person Marik feared. No one but him seemed to sense the cruelty that was within his father. But then again, no but he had seen…
Marik drowned in his own thoughts, pulling up the one memory that haunted him every single night; the one memory that had changed him forever, and left him hollow inside.
Marik was eight years old. At the tender age of eight, Marik remembered how much he hated the dark, how frightening he found it when the candles were put out, and he was left alone to sleep. But sleep never came. Nightmares plagued the young Marik. One night, restless and frightened, startled awake by dreams of a great dark shadow, Marik left his bed. He crept to his parents' room, down the hall, seeking comfort; seeking his mother's warmth. It was his greatest mistake; his decision to leave that bed would change his life forever.
Shouting. Yes, that was it. Shouting was what Marik had first heard, from behind the chamber doors. Marik knew better than to interrupt anything going on between his parents. They had been fighting so much of late, and his attendants told him that his parents were merely tired out and stressed from the great demands of their estate. Marik was not so sure, but his attendants always wiped away any seeds of doubt that lingered within his mind. However, he was so scared in the dark, alone. Marik wanted light; he needed it badly, and could see the flicker of flames from beneath the door. He opened it a crack, waiting for a lull in the conversation to enter.
"You cannot do this!" his mother cried. Marik could see her through the crack. Her lovely dark hair flowed to her waist, and her blue eyes were wide with rage. She looked just like his older sister Isis, but her eyes were rounder, and more prone to emotion. Not one of the Ishtar children had inherited their distinct shape; instead, they had all received the hard, angled eyes of their father.
"It is inhumane! Planning these raids on villages! These items…are they really worth the souls of the Egyptian people?! Even common thieves do not deserve eternal damnation! Please, I beg of you! If the Pharaoh knew this was how you were bringing peace to Egypt, he would never allow this!"
"The Pharoah will never know," Lord Ishtar replied. "We will do what we must for the sake of Egypt."
"But it isn't for Egypt!" Lady Ishtar protested. "What about the legend surrounding these items? Once created, they will eventually bring about an era of great darkness, that only the chosen Pharaoh can dispel! You and Akhenaden know this, and yet you persist in creating these items!"
"What is the difference, woman?!" Lord Ishtar screamed, his frustration with his wife apparent. "I have told you not to meddle in my business; you overheard all of this information, correct? This is men's work!"
"No," Lady Ishtar responded sharply, "this is Egypt's work. I will tell King Akhenamkhanen. He will know of everything by daybreak." She turned on her heel, away from her husband.
Lord Ishtar vice gripped her arm, and pulled her back. He gripped both arms tightly and shook her. "If you dare leave, I will hurt you. You know the cost of your disobedience. How many times have you failed to satisfy me? You take multiple beatings, yet you never learn!"
"Please, my love," Lady Ishtar begged. "What has happened to you? You never once put your hands on me until you started creating those items. Can't you see? They are evil! Some sort of horrible power is behind them, perhaps all of evil itself! The items have made you so cruel! It seems like the more raids you go on, the more evil fills your heart! This raid on Kul-Elna will break you! I am sure of it! I sense something dark, will come of this! Let me tell the Pharaoh! Please! He and I are old friends. I know he will listen! We can find another way…"
"That is precisely why you will not go to the Pharaoh," Lord Ishtar hissed. "He will listen to you! And what of Egypt, then? Think of your country, woman! The lives of some common thieving villages are a small price to pay when compared to the greater good of this country. Sacrifice is necessary!"
"But King Akhenamkhanen said…"
"That fool is too kind hearted for his own good. If you ask me, Akhenaden should have been the Pharoah! At least he knows what Egypt requires!"
"You speak blasphemy!" Lady Ishtar shouted, wrenching free from her husband's grasp. "I am going to court now, and you cannot stop me!"
"You will stay!" Lord Ishtar's voice rang out, just as Lady Ishtar reached the door. "If you open that door, it will be the last move you ever make!"
Marik's mother ignored his father. She opened the door, and her eyes widened in surprise as she saw her son, standing in the hall.
"Marik," she murmured gently, "My Marik. What…"
Her words were cut off by her own scream, escaping her throat. As Lord Ishtar had promised, her stride towards the door would be the last move she ever made. Marik always remembered her eyes. The terror in them, as she was sucked away from him, as if by a strong force, so strong it was like that of a black hole. Yes, the room had become a black hole. A dark, deep abyss that Marik's attention had been sucked toward, a place where it seemed time itself had frozen.
He looked into the room. He couldn't help it. His father hit her, over and over again. When he finally stopped, he stood over her, and spoke seemingly tenderly. Marik shuddered, hearing his words. They were devoid of warmth and insincere.
"Come my dear, stop this foolishness. Come, let us make it better. Come to my bed, and never leave my side again." He nuzzled his crying lady, and kissed her cheek.
But it was not to be. She merely attempted to stand, to run. And so, he took her there, on the floor. Pushed himself in and out of her, and she lay there, silent, and surprised at her husband's violation. Something had changed, even Marik could see that. His father was not the strong man he admired; his father was put together wrong, and could never be Marik's idol again.
When he finished, Lady Ishtar backed away from him, shaking. She pointed her finger, accusingly. "I will never submit to you! By daybreak, the Pharaoh will know of all you've done. Not just what you have done to me in the last few weeks, but of the items as well! I've let you do this for the last time! And he will believe me! He trusts me!"
"You will not go to him!" Lord Ishtar yelled. "I will stop you!" He hit her, again and again. So much blood.
Marik detested the color red. It was heavy, thick, and bright. It burned in his brain, like a horrible fire that could never be put out.
"No," she had managed to gasp out, "not for my Marik to see." She stared straight into Marik's eyes, a stare that would send chills down his spine, even years later. She gasped, her last breath gone, eyes still open.
Lord Ishtar glanced at the door. The words she had spoken were unsettling to him. His eyes caught Marik's, and Marik fled.
From that day forward, Lord Ishtar hated Marik. And Marik knew why. Marik did everything he could to avoid his father. He chose not to stand in the light, and shine, as Malik did. Truth was, no matter what Marik did, he would never gain the favor of his father. He was tainted; he had seen. He belonged in the shadows. Neither had ever spoken of the incident. Lord Ishtar had never even questioned Marik about it, nor did he demand his silence on the matter. They didn't need words. They both knew. Knew the consequences it would bring, and knew what it would do to their family's honor. It was not divorce that took the young Ishtars' mother from them. It was a monster. It was their father.