Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or any of the characters from the anime. I own the plot and the Tide Whisperer.
Warning: Blood, gore.
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Chapter Eighteen – Guilt
Atemu couldn't believe what he had just heard, "But you…but then…" he stammered, trying to make sense of what Mahado had just told him. "If you didn't send me that telegram then who did?" He demanded in a steadier voice.
"What telegram?" Mahado asked, trying to understand.
Atemu pivoted and brought his right hand up to wrap his fingers around his chin in a completive gesture, his index finger resting just below the bow of his lower lip. His eyes moved from side to side as if he were seeing something no one else could. Finally, the boy dropped his hand and sighed, "I guess that doesn't matter now." He said wearily.
"Where is the captain?"
Atemu slanted his scarlet eyes in Mahado's direction; "He's with Louis right now. See, while he and I went in to rescue Yugi, we were cut off by Louis and his guards, and he took the fall." He explained, his voice rising as his rage at the situation.
He certainly wasn't sorry for rescuing Yugi, but he was disturbed by the fact that some unknown person had lured him here.
"He did what?"
"Look, Mahado, I'd love to stick around and reminisce with you, but I don't have the time." He pushed past the older man as he saw Mokuba step out onto the deck, looking unsettled but he nodded to Atemu to signal they were ready to move.
Mahado didn't like seeing his young cousin with such a strange look in his eyes…it was like a mixture of an enraged human and an amused demon all mixed into one set of eyes. However, he had seen the steadfast expression on his face before, and it called out for Mahado to do something, anything, to erase that ancient expression from the boy's features.
"Could I be of any help in rescuing the captain?" He offered.
Honestly, the genuine surprise that his request triggered in the boy wounded Mahado deeply. Why would he be shocked that Mahado would want to help? They were family, after all, and in spite of his initial reaction to Atemu's presence in Spain, Mahado would do anything to help his cousin.
Atemu's shock changed to contemplation as he finally turned to face Mahado, "Maybe you'd like to know what I plan to do before you offer your life?" Atemu asked, "After all, it may very well cost us all of our lives."
"It wouldn't matter. I won't let you do this alone, Yami." Mahado vowed solemnly.
"Fine then." Atemu turned back to the raven-haired teenager who was walking toward them, "You ready?"
The lad nodded, and Atemu smiled wanly, "Then we ride."
Seto wished he had the use of his legs, if only just so that he could pace the floor. All of this waiting around, stuck in this uncomfortably immobile position, was making unpleasant thoughts torment him even more. He had to move, to do something. Maybe if he hit his head hard enough on the brick behind him, it would knock him out cold and he could be set free of this mental torment for a few hours? Or perhaps he'd be forced to have nightmares instead and couldn't wake up?
Awake or asleep, Seto couldn't escape those graphic images of the supposed rape and murder of Yamir Rodriguez.
Seto knew what had really happened the night Atemu…or Yamir really, had helped Seto break him free of his gilded cage. How courageous and noble and strong Yamir had been. All of his memories with Atemu…the playful bantering, all of the unnecessary jobs he had made Atemu do, the few moments of weakness when Atemu had let down his guard enough for him to see the real man beneath that mask of calm arrogance, or worse the look of jaded acceptance.
Their night of passion…the few shared kisses that they had indulged in. Seto realized that he and Atemu had only known each other for two months, but there was a connection between them, something that Seto never could have imagined was possible for him to experience had bonded them together so completely that…just the mere thought of the abominable scene he had conjured to get Louis to quit with his relentless line of questioning…to even think for a moment that Atemu may have had to suffer that gruesome fate at some point…to twist the memories of Atemu's and Seto's passion into something like that was too much for Seto to bear.
He almost wished for Louis to take his head. He would never be able to forgive himself for corrupting something so precious into something so vile…
Atemu wouldn't want you to feel this way… Some small part of him protested, but it was quickly driven away by Seto's overwhelming guilt.
I don't deserve to feel this way about you, Atemu…not when I'm capable of seeing myself do those things to him…damn it!
Seto jerked his head up when he heard the door to the dungeon creak open, and three royal guards strode in through the doorway toward Seto's cell, "Say your prayers." One warned as he unlocked the door and walked inside the cell.
He released Seto's arms first. Being held for eleven hours above his head had left them feeling numb and useless, and he couldn't resist them as the guard shackled him with a set of portable wooden stalks. They undid the shackles around Seto's ankles and hauled the pirate upright.
Two of the guards restrained an arm each, just to be sure that Seto wouldn't pull anything, while the third guard led the way back out of the dungeon and to a rugged, pathetic looking oak coach.
They hurried Seto inside, the lead guard went up to the driver's seat on the wagon, and once the other two guards were situated on the rear stoop on the coach, the driver snapped his whip in the air and his team of Clydesdales shuffled across the gravel driveway of the palace, heading out of the upper bailey.
Atemu's heart pounded like a tribal drum as he watched the guards haul Seto out from the back of the coach. He clenched his fists at his sides to keep from reaching out to the pirate, the temptation too great. He stood deceptively stoic while Seto was brought up onto the raised platform in front of a crowd of tens of thousands of spectators.
My, aren't you all excited?
Atemu felt disgusted that any of these people could, even for a moment, find public execution of any sort, as a form of entertainment. How could they bring along their small children to see such horrid events? Why would they stand in a courtyard for over an hour just to await one man's death, an act that theoretically only took a handful of moments?
Atemu inwardly shook his head in disapproval and confusion. Many people believed that he had been a natural genius, and yet for the life of him, Atemu would never understand such things.
The guards half dragged, half guided Seto onto the platform. Atemu was proud that Seto resisted, fighting the guards even while his arms were bound. Stubborn man…you never know when to give up. Atemu thought with affection.
They forced Seto to his knees, and Seto snarled viciously at the degrading position.
Bear with me a moment longer, Seto. You won't be kneeling for long.
The guards had their hands full keeping Seto to stay still as the town crier loudly proclaimed Seto's numerous crimes to the crowd, some were obviously fabrications, while others downright amazed him.
He did what with the whom in the where?
"As is decreed by his Majesty, King Louis, this wretched man has been sentenced to death by beheading. May God have mercy on your soul." The crier finished ritually, even as Atemu was certain he hadn't meant those last few words.
God may not have mercy on him, but I shall.
Atemu watched as the guards bent Seto over, and Seto turned his cerulean eyes up to glare venomously at the executioner standing to the side of the platform.
King Louis, who stood high upon the balcony on the fourth floor of the fortress, stood from his throne, a smug expression on his face as he stared at Seto's humiliation.
"Proceed!" He called out in a booming voice.
You won't be laughing long, you asshole.
The executioner raised his ax slowly to acquaintance himself with the weight as it moved back over the executioner's head and behind his shoulders.
Atemu swore his heart would leave a bruise upon his ribcage as the ax blade swung down and found purchase in its target.
Seto closed his eyes as he heard the air scream as the blade swooped down in a rapid arch toward his head. He heard the tearing of flesh, muscle, and bone, and he heard the sound of agonizing screams, but when Seto opened his eyes and turned his head, the two guards who had been holding him to the chopping block were both on their knees cradling their heavily bleeding forelimbs to their abdomens.
He swung his gaze up toward the executioner, who lay on his back in a crumbled heap on the floor beside him.
A cloaked figure crouched over the executioner's dead body, a short knife lodged deep in the masked man's chest. The cloaked man rose with enviable agility, wrapping his arms and the cloak around Seto as they dropped through the trapdoor on the platform, the bullets being fired from the guards' pistols streaming just over their heads as they were plunged into darkness.