I'M BACK! MWAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Three Weeks of school and I am BACK! this is part one of my quest to update/post three fics by this weekened!
First up Our Lady (which will be the permanent title)
First off I wanna thank all my wonderful fans! When i started this fic, i had no idea it would be so popular and that i would have so much fun writing it! Seriously, ideas are pouring out of my ears: this hasn't happen since I started Let Me Be Your Wings and Dragon Rose! I already have the first half of the story planned out and I can't wait!
As always read, review, comment, critique, ask questions and let me know what needs work.
Disclaimer: Yugioh and all its characters belong to manag god Kazuki Takahashi (who i am convinced is a god!) and the hunchback of Notre Dame which this story is based off was written by Victor Hugo, the movie was adapted by Disney. The plot, the grigori and anything original belongs to me.
Dedications: This fic is dedicated to Toya, who's awesome video Yami's Hellfire inspired this fic and my wicked awesome Beta Chicary, who's put up with my horrendous grammar enough to get this chapter updates and finished! I love you guys!
Chapter Three: Esmeralda
A loud cry dragged Yugi's unconscious mind back to wakefulness. After a small war with himself, his eyes opened and he gently pushed onto his knees and untangled himself from the cage of Atem's arms, surprised to find Yami wasn't next to him.
After flexing his wings and rubbing the sleep from his tired eyes, everything slowly came into focus and he looked over the rim of the cradle. He found his missing mate sitting beneath the cradle on the large bed Ryou slept in. The tiny whitenette squealed, jumping up and down and flaying his arms, demanding to be picked up. Yami smiled and gently lifted their little ward in his arms and set him in his lap. The boy laughed instantly. "Ami! Ami!"
"Yami?" Yugi yawned, feeling Atem stir next to him. "Is he hungry?"
"Yeah." Yami nodded with a small smile before carefully placing the toddler in Yugi's arms. "I checked everything else. I'll go get his milk." The dark-winged Grigori smiled, leaping elegantly from the cradle and flexing his wings.
"Ugi!" Ryou squealed happily.
"That's right." Yugi beamed brightly. "What a smart little boy you are." He said, tickling the toddler's stomach. "And just think, pretty soon you'll be a whole year old." Yugi's smiled brightened when Ryou started clapping.
That year had passed by in a blur. Fortunately, the Bishop kept his word about raising the baby and, although he only visited him a few times a day, Ryou was well fed and well cared for. However, the Bishop placed the child's primary care in the nuns. A different nun was assigned to check on him, feed him, and see to his needs once every two or three hours day and night. The Grigori stayed hidden whenever the bishop or the nuns arrived; the church members were a good caretakers, no question, but the Grigori knew their little one needed more than just nourishment to live. He needed fresh air, sunlight and love, and they took great pleasure in providing him with those comforts.
The Grigori moved their cradle-liked bed so it hung just above Ryou's room in order to be closer to him and ensure his safety during the night. They took turns holding the boy, feeding him, cuddling him, changing him, playing with him and comforting him whenever he cried or got scared. They were the ones gathering his food, clothes and even bringing him toys to play with. By the time the nuns arrived, the trio had already put Ryou back into the large bed in the bell room, which they had cleaned, refurnished and dusted themselves. By the time the nuns arrived to nurse him, he was already dressed, fed, and sound asleep, nice and warm m the blankets. None of the nun's questioned it, they simply assumed another nun or the bishop had already completed the task and retired for the night.
No one suspected the bell tower to be the home of the creatures they only read about in the bible and prayed to for protection, or that the Grigori, the guardians of the church and the holy mother, were raising the little boy. To anyone else who saw it, it was just a dome-shaped ceiling.
Once the boy had learned to crawl, Yugi had been extremely hesitant to put him on the floor. Atem's over protectiveness reached a new level at the thought of the tiny boy crawling around the bell tower, and he created new and sometimes ludicrous excuses why Ryou should hold off walking until he was at least two. Eventually, it was Yami who picked the boy up and set him on the floor and, once he walked away, Ryou pulled himself to his feet and started after him until he grabbed Yami legs and demanded he be picked up. It was days before Yami stopped laughing at the stark disbelief on Yugi and Atem's face. Since then, Ryou ran everywhere, the boy not seeming to understand the notion of 'walking.' Even when he bumped into things, he just shook his head, got right back up and started running again. It drove Yugi crazy and nearly gave Atem a heart attack on more than one occasion.
"He's a night child, no doubt." Atem yawned loudly, and cradled his head in his hand. "He does nothing but sleep during the day and, at night, all he does is eat." The elder Grigori snorted gently, scratching the baby's belly through the thick cotton nighty that covered his whole body. Ryou squealed happily and boldly flexed his arms, attempting to grab at Yugi's bangs when the boy leaned back against the rim of their cradle.
"He's a baby, Atem." Yugi smiled, letting Ryou's hands play with one of his fingers. "He needs to eat a lot. He's growing bigger and bigger every day, after all."
Atem snorted. "He's ten months old and he eats more than the three of us do. Thank God the milk maids bring so much cream to the church."
Yugi just laughed and turned to face his little boy. Ryou had somehow found Yugi's necklace and stared at the foreign object, gripping it in his tiny fists and sucking on it.
"No, no Ryou." Yugi scolded gently, uncurling the baby's fingers from the pendant and tucking it back inside his tunic. "You don't eat that."
The two angels chuckled before a loud gust of wind alerted them to the reappearance of their third member.
Yami climbed back into their hanging bed, holding two glass bottles of milk in one arm, and using the other to pull himself up. "Sounds like I arrived just in time then." The crimson-eyed Grigori laughed, putting the bottles down and held his arms out to take Ryou from Yugi. The violet-eyed angel surrendered the child, but not without reluctance.
"You're always getting up to feed him, love. He's ours too." Yami chuckled, carefully holding Ryou in one arm and sitting cross-legged on the bed. He checked the temperature of the milk before feeding the hungry infant his midnight dinner. The whitenette clenched the bottled possessively in his fists and ravenously devoured the milk.
"Wow, you were hungry, weren't you?" Yami teased, when Ryou finished the bottle.
"I told you so." Atem chuckled, yawning loudly.
"He's a growing boy." Yugi giggled. "Just wait until he's older."
"Oh I dread that day." Yami mocked remorsefulness as Ryou continued to devour his dinner.
"Why's that? 'Cause he'll eat us out of house and home?" Atem joked.
"No, because of all the attention he'll get because he's so beautiful." Yami laughed.
"Over my dead—OWE!" Atem shot up so fast his head hit the ceiling with such force he fell right back down. Unable to resist, both Yami and Yugi burst out laughing. Ryou giggled and clapped his hands. The ruby-eyed Grigori glared, growled furiously at his mates for their hearty laugh at his pain. Pouting, Atem buried himself beneath the blankets and curled around his pillow. "I'm serious though! No one is allowed near our Ryou unless I say it's okay."
Yami rolled his eyes. "Isn't it a tad soon to be worrying about such things, Atem?"
Either Atem didn't hear him or chose to ignore him.
"You go back to sleep, Yugi." Yami told his younger lover, noticing the Grigori's tired eyes. "Ryou's almost done eating anyway." He motioned toward the empty bottle and the yawning toddler making himself comfortable in his daddy's warmth.
"Okay." Yugi nodded and curled up next to Atem.
Yami smiled at the adorable sight, placing the empty bottle on the floor and double-checking to make sure Ryou was asleep before carefully placing the infant back in his bassinet. They'd bring him back to his room in the tower in the morning before the Bishop arrived. Yami sighed as he moved to join his slumbering lovers, thinking of their earlier conversation. His attention turned to his two lovers and he smiled, thanking their divine father for blessing them so, and silently praying for their own little white-haired angel to one day know the joys and happiness that came with finding one's true love. With that final prayer, he fell asleep.
Small hands grabbed as many fruits in his arms as he could before stuffing a few into his pockets and dumping his heavy burden into a woven basket. He pulled an apple from his pocket and sunk his teeth into the fruit's juicy flesh. He smiled and returned to helping his mother pack their produce from their stand into baskets. "Careful pequeña esmeralda." The tall woman warned, throwing her large, silvery braid behind her back.
The boy nodded and struggled to drag the heavy basket. Unlike other gypsies, he and his mother were vendors and didn't belong to the regular gypsy community. But that was fine with him, he liked working with his mother selling things and seeing the musicians play their flutes and the dancers dance. After all, being a performer was much better than being part of a stuffy old commute in the middle of nowhere. It was much more fun to travel and go to the festivals and grow your own food.
His mother laughed, seeing him struggle with the basket and gently took it from his hands, passing him another smaller basket. "Take this, pequeña esmeralda. It is easier to carry."
The boy took the basket happily, throwing away the core of his apple. "Mama, where are we going next now that the festival is over?" He asked with wide, curious eyes.
His mother smiled brightly. "I'm not sure yet, pequeña esmeralda." She explained, loading the food onto the back of a caravan. "Now let us return home for the evening." She picked up the toddler and sat him on the back of the caravan next to the produce. The tired toddler yawned, swinging his legs back and forth, and pulled out his hair tie, allowing his short, spiky mess of gray hair to spill around his shoulders.
"Are you tired, pequeña esmeralda?" His mother asked, gathering her skirts and preparing to leave.
He grinned and snuggled against one of the baskets. "A little. Mama, how come you always call me 'pequeña esmeralda?'" His mother laughed and removed her shawl to drape it over her son. "Because you have the most beautiful emerald eyes I've ever seen, mon pequeña esmeralda." She beamed and kissed his forehead as he snuggled into the soft material, falling asleep. The last thing he saw before succumbing to dreamland was his mother's gentle face.
The gypsy woman turned to hook the reigns of the horse to the caravan as the rest of the gypsies gathered their supplies and moved to exit the market place and return to their community for the evening. Suddenly, a loud rumble, like a roll of thunder across the ground, alerted everyone to the distance hill. Soldiers baring the symbol of the Spanish army charged over the hillside on dark stallions. In the distance, a disembodied voice howled in the darkness, the only warning the people got before hundreds of men charged down the hill with murder in their eyes.
Screams erupted from the night as people were suddenly chased down and slaughtered by the oncoming soldiers. Fruits, supplies and personal belongings were dropped and scattered everywhere in haste as the gypsies tried to escape the soldiers. Their horses trampled and charged through the stands, starting from the center and working their way outwards to ensure no survivors. Soldiers blocked every entrance and escape routes, forcing crowds of gypsies to run into dead ends at the mercy of the soldiers.
The white-haired woman screamed, abandoning her cart, scooping her slumbering son in her arms and running as fast as she could. She ducked into an alleyway and hid behind anything she could find to avoid the soldiers. Her dark cloak hid her in the darkness and kept her son from the guards who'd come to slaughter her people. Her heart pounded in her chest and she clenched her precious angel closer to her bosom, praying to the good lord if she didn't survive this night, he would, and that his memory would be of the happiness of this day.
"There's another one!" Her heart leapt into her throat at the roar of another guard. Not even waiting for the guards to organize themselves, she bolted through the clearing, knocking over anything she could find to slow down the guards and horses as she stormed through the city.
She refused to turn around, unwilling to give her enemies even a second more to catch her. She noticed a gate leading into an alleyway up ahead and, thinking quickly, she darted to the left, avoiding the galloping hooves of a nearby horse. She grabbed the rim of the iron gate, elegantly leaping over the gateway and bolting as fast as she could down the alleyway. A scream of pain suddenly tore from her throat and she fell forward. She fought the pain and pushed herself to her knees, clutching her son in one arm. Her heart clenched as she felt him stir.
A terrible burning in her side commanded her attention and she looked down to examine the wound. Blood pooled down the side of her skirt and her hand flew to the knife embedded in her waist. She removed it carefully, biting her lip to keep from screaming and quickly bandaged the wound, grateful that it wasn't too deep.
Her body screamed at her as she began running again and her lungs burned but she kept moving. The outskirts of town were so close and she could see the rocks where she could hide her son. She collapsed when she got there, hope swirling in her breast as she carefully lay the sleeping boy behind the rocks with a tear-streaked face. She kissed his forehead, removing her dark burgundy coat and wrapping it around him. Finally, she unclasped the necklace she kept hidden beneath her dress: a brilliant walnut-sized emerald on a heavy silver chain, a gift from her husband before he passed away. Carefully, she clasped the necklace around her son's tiny neck and kissed his forehead, wincing at the pain in her side.
"I love you my pequeña esmeralda. Never forget that." She chocked on her tears before getting to her feet and starting back towards the village, knowing if the soldiers found her there, it was her son's life that would be in danger and not hers. Her vision blurred and she felt dizzy from blood loss. Finally, she collapsed to the ground, and from the corner of her eyes, she could see the fate of her village and the retreating attackers vanishing over the hilltop.
Having accomplished their goal, the soldiers retreated from the village. They finished the task by throwing torches onto various houses, piles of wood and debris. Flames erupted from the chaos, the blaze rivaling the light of the sun and consuming the bodies of the dead. Smoke filled the sky like thick storm clouds and, within the darkness, a bright light flashed overhead.
The dying woman's eyes filled with hope as the warm light of heaven wash over her before she closed her eyes for the last time. One final prayer lingered, and that was for her son's happiness.
He awoke to an impossibly bright light stinging his eyes. He clenched the cloth around him and shook, realizing he wasn't in his bedroom. He realized his mother was nowhere in sight. He slowly forced his eyes open and screamed, wishing he had stayed asleep.
The rusty gold luminosity was stronger now, casting splashes of light into the night sky. Plumes of smoke curled into the sky in thick, inky wisps like a black peacock uncurling its feathers. Through the smoke, he could see tendrils of brilliant gold, scarlet, orange and violets leaping into the air, dancing among the charred remains of the buildings and stone.
It was impossible. It seemed impossible. Every fiber of his being wanted to pretend this was all a nightmare and that, at any moment, he would wake up in the safety of his mother's arms in the back of their caravan. But he knew he couldn't deny the truth that was right in front of him: the entire city was in flames.
Even at that age, he knew everything he ever loved was gone and that he was alone. He clenched the coat around him tightly, realizing it was his mother's and the necklace around his neck was the one she always kept hidden to avoid being stolen from thieves.
Consumed by fear and grief, the tiny child collapsed to his stomach and cried, a piercing wail that broke the stillness of the night like the mournful warning cries of a specter. His cries, however, did not go unheard like he'd thought. Too consumed in his grief, he didn't notice the large roulotte on the hillside, or the people rushing over after having seen the damage done to the town. Even the crackling of the fires and the rush of smoke were muted by the loud wails of the crying child.
"This is tragic." Chaos growled as his black boots kicked up ash. His hands formed fists at his sides and he punched the first thing he could find in anger. To calm himself down, he ran a hand through his bangs; his dramatically long, shiny midnight hair spilled from beneath his outrageous headdress in wisps of darkness as a result. He made no move to tie them back, not having the strength to do anything but stare at the remains of the massacre.
His gloved hand clenched the smaller one of the young blond-haired girl next to him. Her green eyes widened in fear, shinning like emeralds against her pale skin, which was so much fairer than his own blue-gray.
"Go back to the roulotte with Silence and Samir, Mana." He turned to the little girl. "There's nothing for you to see here."
She nodded, whipping away the accumulating tears and darting back towards the stunningly colored roulotte the group of performing magicians and gypsies called home.
"Hello?" A tall man dressed in purple called loudly over the hissing smoke in a desperate plea for survivors. "Anything, Chaos?" he asked his companion.
"Nothing yet, Mahad." Chaos admitted ruefully as the two continued their search.
"Keep looking." Silence, the matriarch of their group, ordered carefully, lifting her silver and blue skirts to avoid the ash. A frown marred her gentle face and her vivid blue eyes dulled with sadness. "This is horrible."
"We're too late." Samir told them, carefully lifting Mana back into the caravan. His hair was long, straight, with streaks of gold running through midnight black and his eyes were a vivid blue. In their act, he and his wife were known as the Sorcerer of Dark Magic and the Silent Mage. Under other circumstances, he was the King of the Gypsies, but now, he was just the patriarch of their group, reflecting, with sadness, the senseless persecution of their fellow gypsies. It didn't matter if it wasn't their community; genocide was the same no matter where you went.
"I'm sorry, Samir." Mahad and Chaos exchanged mournful glances. "There are no survivors."
For a moment, Samir didn't speak. He then softly replied. "I was afraid of that. Gather in the caravan, we can't stay here." He ordered, returning to his role as King of the Gypsies.
Silence sighed and wrapped the crying Mana in her shawl. "It's alright little one." She soothed, gently fingering her delicate, gloved fingers through the girls golden tresses. "You're safe now, and soon we'll be in France where we can perform. I know you'll do wonderfully, you've been practicing your tricks a lot."
Mana gently wiped her tears on her dress sleeve and offered a small smile. Silence turned as an unusual noise filled her ears, "Did you hear that mama Silence?" Mana asked.
"Yes, Mana I did." Silence replied, before elegantly leaping from the back of the roulotte and breaking into a sprint towards the source of the distress.
"Silence!" Mahad called but she ignored it and continued running.
"Chaos, stay with Mana. Mahad come to me." Samir ordered and started chasing after his wife.
Silence soon found herself on the outskirts of the city when she finally slowed her pace. She recognized the cries now, even as the wail pierced another piece of her heart. It was the sound of a child crying.
She found him among rust colored rocks, clutching a burgundy coat at least three times his petite size. It was his hair that gave him away. She recognized that messy, mane of pale gray-white. Like her own sky-colored locks, the light color was common among her people. It broke her heart to see the sight of the weeping child with his face buried in his drawn knees.
Carefully, she knelt down in front of him and cleared her throat. The boy stopped crying and lifted his face to see her. He screamed and started sliding away until his back hit the rock and he clawed at it as if trying to hide. Silence was stunned, not by the boy's reaction, but by his eyes: the most beautiful shade of green she'd ever seen.
She smiled and carefully offered him her hand. "It's alright little one. I won't hurt you."
He cried again, not out of fear, but sadness. He put up no resistance when the woman carefully lifted him up and held him close to her. "It's alright little one, you're safe now."
She smiled and started back towards the caravan, seeing Samir and Mahad just overhead.
"Silence?" The gypsy king asked his wife, noticing the tiny buddle she carried, and felt his jaw slack.
"He's a survivor." She explained.
They needed no further explanation.
It was several days before their newest member started to warm up to the other gypsies. He refused to speak and would hide behind Silence despite her efforts to get him to open up. No one blamed him. After all, the boy was still very young and it wasn't fair that he lost everything he ever loved all in a single night for no reason but the prejudice of the Spanish government.
It was Mana who managed to convince him to open up.
"What's your name? I can't keep calling you 'boy' all the time." She asked gently.
He stared at her for a moment, with an expression half between bewilderment and uncertainly. But the girl's smile was warm and inviting.
"Bakura." He finally replied in a small, still voice.
"Bakura." She smiled. "That's a lovely name. That means 'glorious,' right?"
He only blinked and cocked his head cutely.
"That's a pretty necklace." She said, pointing to the emerald necklace peeking out from the oversized burgundy coat he never removed.
"Mama gave it to me." Bakura replied. "She said it's the same color as my eyes. That's why she always called me 'pequeña esmeralda.'"
"That means 'little emerald' in Spanish, right?" Mana asked, having only lived in Spain for a few years and was not yet adept with the language, especially since their journey to France required her to learn that language as well.
Bakura nodded.
"That can be your name then. You're a gypsy so you need a gypsy name. Mine is Mana Magister! I'm a mage like Mahad, so our last name is Magister, see?" She explained with beaming eyes. "So you can be Bakura Esmeralda, 'cause you have very pretty eyes." The little girl flashed a bright, cute grin, unaware that the elder members of their caravan were happily watching the endearing scene. Silence's smile widened, seeing Bakura more open than he had been since the day they rescued him.
"Thank you." Bakura gave a small grin. His tired eyes going wide and bright for the first time since his mother died.
"Not bad kiddo." Bakura commented, watching Mana created a storm of bubbles from the prop wand she used to perform her magic act with Mahad.
"Thanks." The blond girl replied. "And don't call me 'kiddo.' You may be taller than me now but I'm still older than you." She smirked.
"Yeah, yeah keep telling yourself that." The gypsy gibed, throwing his long hair, over his shoulder. Years of traveling in the sun had bleached the gray locks a shiny silver and tanned his once pale skin. The combination of the two made his shimmering emerald eyes as brilliant as ever, rivaled only by the emerald necklace he proudly wore around his neck.
"That's enough, you too. We need to finish packing if we're going to make it to Paris next year." Chaos playfully scolded his apprentice and the female magician.
"Yeah, yeah we know." Bakura brushed it off. He leaped onto a crate, grabbed the side of the roof, and gently hoisted his body to the left, going into a flip and landing on top of the caravan with the grace and agility unique of an acrobat.
Mana rolled her eyes. "Show off."
"I'm only stretching my muscles, Mana." Bakura smirked, boasting his talent as he walked across the top of the caravan with little effort. Mahad laughed and tossed the acrobat the next load and a string of rope to tie it down. "And to think you were so timid and quiet when we first met you." He teased.
"I was also five years old." Bakura reminded with a snort. "Fifteen years changes a person."
"Of course it does." Chaos teased, with a gesture of his hand for the three to continue loading the car. "I'll be right back; I need to talk to Madam Silence."
The three nodded, knowing Madam Silence would need the help. Though feisty and active as ever in her old age, losing their beloved Gypsy king Samir to illness had left a wound on her heart that had yet to heal.
He found her sitting cross-legged in front of a small table covered by a black table cloth, shuffling a tarot deck several times before arranging it in a familiar spread. He waited until she finished lying out the spread, knowing it was unwise to interrupt her in the middle of a tarot set.
"I thought we were done predicting the future for the evening." He said with a small smile.
"Now don't you go sprouting stereotypical gibberish at me!" The gypsy matriarch smirked in a voice of mock scorn. "You know tarot reading is about more than just predicting the future. Much more..." Mischievousness and wisdom danced in her aging sapphire eyes.
"Oh you've never let anyone forget it, Madam." Chaos said with a small laugh. "I was only teasing, but may I ask what you're asking?"
Silence smiled and nodded. "I was just asking what will happen to Bakura once we arrive in Paris."
Even after fifteen years Silence still worried about that boy. "What do they say?" he asked curiously, looking over her shoulder at the cards Silence began to turn over:
"The Fool, upright, represents the questioner. The fool represents new beginnings, important decisions and overturning the status quo. Our little emerald is about to begin a new cycle in his life." Silence stopped, turning over the second card, which represented the past, and she frowned. "The Ten of Swords, upright represents ruin, desolation, destruction of a group…that makes sense. It's been fifteen years, but it makes sense." Chaos frowned but nodded. Even after all this time, the memories of that dark night refused to fade - a permanent reminder of their people's suffering.
Carefully, Silence turned over the third card. Before she could fully place it on the table, it slipped from her fingers, landing face up diagonally. "The present reveals…The Tower." She paused for a minute to interpret the meaning. "When upright, this card represents disruptions, change, a sudden violent loss, or an overthrow of the existing way of life. Usually, such changes result in freedom. When it is upside down, this card foretells a sudden change, something one cannot control, or a change that may rob a person of their freedom. But when I flipped the card, it landed in the diagonal so it could have either meaning…whether those meanings are good or bad is open to interpretation." She moved towards the fourth card.
"Perhaps recent experiences will shed some light…" she turned the next card over to reveal the Chariot card. "Overcoming life's obstacles, and triumph over such obstacles…yes that is very true." Chaos was confused, unsure how the card offered any clarification but Silence continued to the next card, the one signifying goals and wants. It was the upright Ten of Cups.
A bright smiled graced Silence's face. "Lasting happiness, security, true friendship and a peaceful and secure happiness is what our pequeña emseralda desires and will expect in our future. But how and why?" She asked herself, fingers gracefully skimming down the row of cards to the sixth card: a representation of the immediate future, revealing the upside down Death card.
Chaos flinched but Silence remained silent seeing, the card was reversed. "When upright, Death can represent the beginning of a new life or some sort of change. But reversed, death represents a change that, although will be painful and unpleasant, is necessary because the current life's path has served its purpose." She paused for a moment than smiled a soft smile. "Yes that does clarify things, present and future."
Silence continued, her hands moving to the seventh card.
Her eyes remained transfixed, studying it intently before placing it down and revealing its face: The Nine of Pentacles in reversed. "A tricky reading. When reversed, the card represents affluence obtained through deception. Another meaning is success and corruption earned through the misfortune of others. But since this card represents environmental influence, I believe it is a warning that the present calm and stability will not last. That is understandable, if the next two are what I think they are, at least…"
Chaos stared at her, clearly not understanding what she meant. He kept his eyes glued on the cards, not liking where this prediction was going and wondering if it would be better for Bakura's sake if they avoided Paris altogether.
The next card brought some hope to Chaos' face. "The Lovers?" He asked.
Silence smiled brightly, "Inner fears and desires. I was correct, our pequeña esmeralda's greatest wish shall be granted."
"Unity and harmony." Chaos said and Silence just smiled.
"The Lovers represents many things. In this case, if Bakura goes to Paris, he will find great love and happiness as a reward for all he's suffered and overcome in life." She explained, piecing the different cards together face up until only the last card, which would reveal the final result of them all, remained face down. A frown marred the Gypsy Queen's face as her hands slowly slid towards the last card. "But if I'm right…" His fingers trembled, almost unwilling to turn the card over. Chaos opened his mouth in concern but Silence raised her hand to silence him and turned over the card.
"Damn." She cursed in a way that left the Gypsy acrobat in a state of shock. The woman began shaking as if trying to deny what she just learned and mumbled as if cursing herself for ever making the prediction in the first place. Chaos was at her side in an instant.
"Madam Silence, are you…" She silenced him by flipping over the last card. Chaos froze: The upright Nine of Sword: the card of the Martyr. Chaos choked, his voice dying in his throat. His eyes turned to Silence who was smiling despite the pools of tears forming in her rich blue, "I always knew he was destined for happiness. It's the nature of the good lord to reward us for our suffering, but still." She paused, "Why must he suffer so in order to obtain what he deserves most?"
Chaos could not answer. His eyes glared at each card, now understanding what the cards meant. There was no question whether or not they went to Paris, even if you didn't believe in tarot or fortunetelling, the meaning was very clear the second the Nine of Swords was flipped: Bakura would find his greatest happiness, his greatest joy, the joy of being truly and unconditionally loved, but that new life and happiness would come only as a result of great and terrible suffering.
To offer some clarification:
Chaos-Magician of black Chaos
Silence-Silent Magician (level 8)
Samir-Sorcerer of Dark Magic
Mahad and Mana are self-explanatory
Since Ryou was adopted by the mobium Grigori I felt it was appropriate Bakura be adopted by Mages (both because i am in LOVE with the Magician Family and because I wanted to avoid the gypsy stereotype as much as possible)
Bakura's nickname "pequeña esemeralda" obviously means little emerald. Since in the book Esmeralda was named after the emerald she wore on her neck while in the movie she had green eyes, and since i gave Ryou dark eyes, i decided to do both and give him a keepsake of his mother, and drop-dead gorgeous eyes (i know in the past as the thief king and in the Japanese arc he had lavender eyes, so i decided to take a creative license)
Also Bakura in Sanskrit means glorious: no joke! i looked it up (imagine my shock) So like Ryou's name, Bakura means "glorious emerald"
Also, the tarot cards mentioned at the end of this chapter are accurate: I looked up the tarot cards and did the reading from scratch so they are accurate (trust me they almost killed me).
Again thanks to all my wonderful reviews for all of your wonderful reviews and encouragements! You guys rock!