Author Notes: Rodshipping as requested! Please review and request a one-shot for the Marik shipping of your choice by voting in the poll on my profile (or requesting it in your review). You know what I like about one-shots? Not needing to come up with reasons for why things are the way they are. XD

Marik glared at the tall, proud Egyptian pharaoh standing opposite him, gripping the Millennium Rod even as his arms were crossed over his broad chest. Marik's arms were crossed too as they stared each other down, the tension between them crackling like static electricity before a storm.

"Why?" the teenager demanded at last, his anger bubbling over and getting the better of him.

"Why what?" Seth asked coolly, his deep blue eyes watching the teen with calm consideration.

"Why did I have to be a tombkeeper?" he demanded. "Why did I have to be confined to a life underground? Why did I have to be tortured by my own father?" he grit his teeth as he approached the other, his rage burning white-hot beneath his facade of control. "Why did I have to kill my father? Why did my mother have to die when she did?"

Tears filled Marik's eyes, threatening to spill down his cheeks. Marik was close enough that Seth could see them, but his expression was just as stony and inscrutable as ever.

"Why did I have to suffer the way I did?" He choked up, then, and he could no longer stop himself from crying. A pair of strong arms slipped around him, pulling him close despite his blind attempts to push the other away. "Did I really need to go through all of that in order to protect your secrets?" he asked fiercely, trying to negate the effect of his sobs. "Did you enjoy watching my pain and the pain of my ancestors for these thousands of years?"

He pummelled his fists against the broad, hard chest before him, trying to get a reaction from the man, trying to cause him some pain that would help to even the scales of justice. He wasn't strong enough, though, and he finally slumped forward, crying into the white linen robes of his pharaoh as the taller man held Marik close, the shaking teen enveloped in his warm strength.

"We did not enjoy watching you or any of your ancestors suffer," Seth answered quietly, finally addressing his servant's accusations. "We laid out certain instructions for the tombkeepers, but over time, they changed the rules themselves. They added restrictions that we never intended to be placed over you. They grew more insular than we'd anticipated, but there was only so much that we could anticipate when we had no idea how long it would be until the Final Battle."

The lavender-eyed teen didn't speak, just gripped that smooth linen in his impotent fists as he cried.

"You were never intended to suffer as much as you did, Marik," Seth murmured, the unmistakable rasp of grief and regret entering his voice.

Marik tipped his head back to look into the pharaoh's face, trying to discern sincerity in his sapphire gaze.

"You have my deepest apologies for your pain." The pharaoh paused, lifting a hand to brush away the tears from the boy's cheek. "If I could go back and keep you from experiencing that agony, I would."

Marik blinked rapidly, trying not to cry again, but something about Seth's kindness and pity had touched him deep within. Such understanding was rare outside Marik's own family, and while he'd wanted to stubbornly cling to his anger, he knew now that it wasn't the right thing to do. If he didn't let himself accept Seth's sentiments, he'd be a fool. He'd be choosing misery over closure.

"Thank you," he whispered as he started to cry again, but Seth hushed him and caressed his head against Seth's chest once more.

"Cry no more." His voice was warm and rich, and as he gently lifted Marik in his arms, the teen closed his wet, tired eyes. He put his arms around the pharaoh's neck and let the taller man carry him over to his bed, laying him down as he lay down with him.

"You're heart has grieved enough in your short life," Seth murmured, pressing his lips to Marik's forehead as the youth cried good and hard for the first time since he'd been orphaned. Marik sobbed into Seth's chest until he had no tears left. He'd never known that it was so exhausting to cry. Without even meaning to, he drifted off to sleep in his pharaoh's arms.

Seth had removed the ceremonial pieces of his ensemble and set them aside before rejoining Marik on his bed. He lay with him for a few hours, owing him that much and more. He winked in and out of sleep every now and then, dozing lightly, but remaining mostly aware, watching over his faithful servant as he slept the most peaceful sleep he'd had in a long time. Seth was dozing a little when Marik opened his lilac eyes and lifted a hand to the pharaoh's cheek. Intense cobalt blue suddenly met the teen's sleepy gaze.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked softly.

"Yes, my pharaoh," Marik whispered, his body limp and relaxed as his lips faintly twitched into a small, tentative smile. He was safe, he was understood, he was cared for. He wasn't feared here, nor was he afraid.

"Call me Seth."

Marik's fingers drifted down from Seth's tanned cheek to rest on his lips. Seth lifted his own hand to hold his fingertips closer as he kissed them.

"Seth," Marik murmured, tasting his name for the first time.

"Marik." Seth said the name against the teen's fingers before pulling his fingers away and leaning forward, their faces quite close. "May I kiss you?"

Marik didn't speak, but he pressed his lips to Seth's in silent answer. The pharaoh was gentle with his faithful follower, his touches were tender, his heat was reassuring, his hands were gentle.

"Could enough pleasure eventually compensate you for all of your pain?" Seth murmured, looking earnest in his desire to please Marik and make retribution for the ills the tombkeeper had suffered due to his own lack of foresight.

"Perhaps," Marik answered after a moment, a sly smile curling his lips as his cheeks turned a ruddy coral color. "It might take a while to even the score, though."

"I'm alright with that." Seth kissed Marik again. "I probably owe you my lifetime, and it's a price I'm willing to pay."

"I look forward to it."

Later after dinner, Marik and Seth stood together on the balcony outside his bedroom, watching the sunset in the western sky. Seth couldn't help but think of Marik as a sunset incarnate: the light lavender of his eyes, the deep red blush of his cheeks, the pale yellow of his hair. Seth also thought that Marik looked lovely in his dark blue linens, a blue as dark as the dusky twilight.