I don't need saving. I'm just a slave.
Chapter 11 Past
Italics are spoken in Egyptian
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Atem watched as Seth's dark shadow magic swirled around the blond boys temples. Said boy shuddering every few moments. Each time wisps of white would seep out from under his eyelids and join the swirling purple. Bakura and Marik'ie sat in the next chamber with the three small boys.
A lavish sitting room decorated in deep sunset reds. Marik'ie and Malik sat beside an open window gazing out at the ramshackle buildings at the edge of the city. "There" Malik said pointing at a place just a little further beyond. You can see the mud slab buildings of the executives, then the things that look like stables, thats where we slept, and just beyond that, over the first sand dune is the working grounds. Thats where Joey worked with the bigger slaves. We worked in the serving hut, the one with a big hole in its roof, to the left." he moved his finger so he was pointing to one of the furthest buildings. "We've only been in Egypt for a year, only two months in this city."
Marik'ie glanced at the small bronzed boy in surprise "and yet you speak egyptian quite fluidly." Malik smiled sadly and looked down at his lap.
"Yugi and I worked together in the same building for years, probably since I was seven-ish. I was always knelt at my masters feet when it was his turn to perform." Marik'ie raised an eyebrow at the others stress on the word. "he was the best dancer, but one day there was water on the ground where he was dancing. He hurt his ankle, couldn't even stand. They started hitting and whipping him. I... I tried" Marik'ie watched as a few tears rolled down the boys face "tried to stop them. Threw myself over his body. Took the whipping. We were both thrown away back into the slave market then. As 'Undisciplined and broken goods'. Thats when we met Ryou. He was only three buildings down from us for years but that was the first time we met.
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Flashback
A young boy with long white hair clenched his fingers as hard as he could, trying to keep his voice quiet as he took the beating. His master... owner... tormentor stood above him. A vast shadowy figure silhouetted against the dull lantern light. The boy curled up as tightly as he could doing nothing to suggest he was resisting. The fists stopped. The man reached down and grabbed a hunk of hair and pulled the boy to his feet "I don't need a broken doll like you." the mans voice was thick and slurred, his voice smelt of alcohol and rotted meet. The brute of a man dragged the white haired boy out of the small dusty room and into a larger room. A door stood open showing a glimpse of the night sky.
The white haired boy stared wistfully at the sky visible over the rooftops. A slight movement from one of them revealed a man crouched on top of one of the lower flat mud roofs. "This the twerp?" a voice said startling the small boy. He looked away from the shadowy man and looked instead at the woman who leant against the far wall.
"Yes. My money?" the master replied, a small bag of gold appeared from the folds of the woman's clothes and landed at the owners feet. The man pushed the bloody and bruised boy to the woman, scooped up the bag and stumbled back down the hallway.
"Get up you" the woman snapped and kicked the white haired boy. He nodded and stood slowly. The woman grabbed his wrist and pulled the boy out the door and into the dark street. The boy glanced back at the low roof where he had seen the mysterious figure. The roof was empty.
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A blond haired boy sat kneeling at an old mans feet. He shivered in the cold desert night air. Music thrummed through the air and wine gourds were passed about freely. Slave girls picked their ways through the crowded room, barely clothed. The entire room was packed to the brim with men. The small blond boy curved his shoulders and hunched into himself as if to make himself a smaller target. The music faded and the men all moved. They pushed and piled into the outskirts of the room to clear space for a small boy. The blond boy and the old man did not move. Instead the old man reached down and patted the boys head. The boy cringed and closed his eyes, his tattooed body shivering harder.
The boy standing in the empty space stood stiff legged, arms wrapped around himself. His shoulder long hair shimmered three differing colours in the flickering light. "DANCE BOY! DANCE" a drunken voice called out. The music started and the boy did as he was ordered. For almost an hour the boy spun and twirled, his face a mask of sadness. It didn't matter, no man looked at his face. Rather they stared at his silk clad hips and bare chest. The music sped up and the boy followed suit. The blond boy kneeling at the edge of the stage stared in wonder as he had every day since the dancer slave and been brought before the brothels customers. Suddenly the boy was on the floor, his ankle was twisted at an odd angle. He struggled to stand as the drunk men shouted their dislike. With a small cry of pain he brought his knees to his chest and clamped his hands over his ankle, behind him a thin wiry man pulled a whip from his belt and lashed out at the boy. The kneeling blond watched on in horror and more and more men began to his and throw things at the small dancer.
Suddenly he couldn't take it anymore. Springing from his place at the old mans feet he threw his body over the smaller boy's. Pain lanced through his body as blow after blow struck him. Time passed and the boy beneath him sobbed in pain and fear. Slowly the blows faded to a stop and the two boys were wrenched up from the floor. The blond by the back of his neck and the dancer by his upper arm. They were all but dragged from the room and into the street. Once outside the man let them go. The smaller of the two collapsed instantly, the blond was quickly by his side pulling the smaller onto his back. The blond ignored the flair of pain in his back as the small boys body dragged over his open wounds.
From down the street they saw a woman dragging a small white haired boy towards them. "Useless, thats what you are. No muscle for hard labour, no other outstanding abilities" the woman mumbled. She stopped a few meters away once she noticed the two boys and the burly man in the doorway of the local brothel.
"Good timing crone." the man said and pushed the two boys towards her "you can take these for no charge, their damaged" the woman glared at the man before grabbing the blonds ear with her gnarled fingers before continuing down the road.
End Flashback
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"Once we got to the slavers caravan we were thrown into the same cage. They gave us shifts so we were properly clothed and bandages for our wounds. They didn't want us to die before we got to egypt." Malik continued as he looked at Marik'ie.
The older of the two looked thoughtfully at the small slave. Reaching out he brushed a lock of hair out of the others face "where was that village?" he asked, voice soft.
Malik looked over at Yugi who stared at a candle's flame. It sat next to a large map that covered the table. Pointing, the small boy tapped at the image labeled Palace. He then ran his finger to the south west to the Slave Yards. Bakura and Marik'ie moved closer as Ryou and Malik moved behind Yugi, they watched as the smallest boys finger ran across the papyrus landscape from town to oasis. Following roads and valleys. Eventually he stopped at the eastern most point of Somalia. There he hesitated and looked away.
Marik'ie looked up at the other two boys "Thats where we first landed on this land." Ryou answered his silent question. Looking back at Yugi they watched as his finger slipped over the vast expanse labeled ocean to India "thats where we met." Ryou said, his voice sad. Malik nodded silently and placed a hand on Yugi's shoulder.
"Before that we don't remember." Yugi's soft voice finally spoke up. Not noticing the door opening silently to admit the Pharaoh. "I like it here, but, I only wish I could remember where I come from."
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Atem watched Seth and Joey for sometime before he returned to the room next door. As he did he stopped at the sound of voices. He listened as the bronze haired slave recounted the tale of their past, he opened the door slightly and watched his small lookalike trace their path across a map. As he was about to enter, he hesitated. The voice of the small boy was captivating. As the boy spoke he could do nothing but stare at the boys profile. His smooth white skin and gently curving features. His wide amethyst eyes. Shaking his head he smirked at his own foolishness. Its not as if the boy would stay after his friend freed him.
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just a little chapter about the other characters. I don't give them enough screen time sometimes.