#tplg

"Look at this..." the Thief King purred, his large hands slipping beneath the blue silks Ryou wore. Hot stirrings, arousal and self-consciousness, made Ryou's skin flush. Bakura's hands roamed over the sumptuous flesh of Ryou's hips and middle, caressing and squeezing and gently pinching.

"Bakura...! Please...!" Ryou squirmed a bit, then squeaked as Bakura tipped him onto his back. The Thief King slid Ryou's tunic off despite Ryou's halfhearted attempts to keep it in place.

"You're so soft," Bakura crooned, leaning down to kiss Ryou's belly. It was plush, and Ryou only grew more flustered with the attention. "I'm so glad... you got all scrawny again, when you were sneaking me food... I told you not to give me your own meals, but I could tell you didn't listen... it hurt me, to see that happen..."

"So embarrassing..." Ryou breathed, as Bakura kissed his stomach again.

"Not embarrassing. Lovely..." Bakura's hands gripped Ryou's hips; ran his thumbs along the hipbones which, once so prominent, were now all but hidden. "Beautiful..." Bakura moved to the left; kissed the crest of Ryou's pelvis. "Gorgeous..."

"Ah! Get off me, you—!” Ryou objected weakly, and the Thief King obliged with a cheerful laugh. Ryou sat up too quickly; blinked, for a moment, and then crawled onto Bakura’s lap. He pressed his hands to the powerful muscles of Bakura's chest—relaxed, now, and so unexpectedly soft in their turn. “And what about you? Not a bone to be seen on the King of Thieves, anymore. You frightened me, then—you looked half-dead, when I came back to you.”

"I was dead, my love." Bakura kissed him—deeply, with the flavor of wine and roast meat on his lips. "And now I'm alive, thanks to you."

"You keep saying that..."

"Because it's true," Bakura mumbled, against Ryou's mouth. "You fed me. You loved me. You brought me wine, and you fucked me so tenderly I nearly died all over again."

Ryou mumbled something hopelessly inarticulate, but returned the kiss; said, "I'll always do that. All of those things. I'll always do those things, my King..."

Bakura tipped him back again, then; growled, "Nah. Let me fuck you tenderly, tonight. Let me worship this soft, sweet body."

Ryou gasped; choked out, "Whatever you want, Thief King..." as Bakura began to lavish him with corporeal affections.

"Maybe tomorrow... we can switch."

"Better shot than I expected..." the Thief King growled. "But if you think I'll just take it—!”

Bakura lunged, drilling a fist into the underside of Seto's rib-cage. The High Priest wheezed, but grabbed Bakura's shoulders and wrenched him off-balance; tangled their feet, and so sent then both crashing to the ground. They rolled over once, twice; the Thief King managed to get on top and punched Seto in the face once, twice.

"Hey! Hey! Damn it, Bakura! Seto!"

The Thief King looked up at the shout, and the High Priest took the opportunity to ram his knee up into Bakura's stomach. The Thief King gasped as he lost his breath, and Seto—with superior height—threw himself up and flipped their positions. Bakura, upon finding himself pinned, grabbed the front of the High Priest’s shirt and smashed their foreheads together. Seto reeled and Bakura grabbed his shoulders; wrenched him sideways and into the sandy turf.

"Gods damn you both!" Pharaoh Atem was still shouting, and when Bakura sprang up Atem immediately placed himself between the two men. Seto, slower, staggered to his feet and raised his fists. "Stop it! Both of you!"

Bakura was grinning—a wild, slightly open-mouthed grin, breath huffing in and out between his teeth, heedless of the blood still dripping from his mouth. "Oh, no fun, Horus, no fun!" he wined, and made a feint towards Seto. The High Priest jumped, but Pharaoh Atem didn't budge.

"Stop it!" Atem repeated furiously, and then turned to his cousin. "I expected better from you! My High Priest, brawling in my front courtyard of all places?"

Seto grimaced; staggered, a bit, and shook his head as though dizzy. "I... sorry, my cousin... Pharaoh..."

"How hard did you hit him?" Atem asked Bakura, who shrugged.

"No harder'n he hit me."

"Oh... Bastet, why are there two of you, now?!" Seto demanded, pointing at Bakura and again lurching to one side.

"Damn it, Bakura..." Atem muttered.

"Oh, it went from 'damn both of you' to just 'damn it, Bakura?'" the Thief King asked, making an effort to look hurt. "How unfair, Pharaoh..."

"He's no fighter!" Atem said, with an exasperated motion at Seto.

Bakura gestured to his jaw—swelling now, visibly. "Could've fooled me."

"He got in a lucky shot," Atem said flatly, and Seto glared blearily at him.

"Don't underestimate me, Cousin..."

Atem fixed him with a baleful look. "Don't go trying to brawl with experienced fighters, then. A crooked nose wouldn't suit you."

Seto looked mildly alarmed at that proposition; staggered again, suddenly, and Atem caught his arm. A concerned huddle of palace-folk had formed, by then, and Atem handed the High Priest off to a servant.

"Make sure he goes straight to the healers," the Pharaoh told the girl, who nodded seriously. Then Atem turned to Bakura; jerked his head. "Walk with me."

"What, I don't get to go see the healers?"

"You'll survive."

The palace-folk took their cue; left the Pharaoh and the Thief King to themselves. They wove together through the carefully cultivated gardens in silence, the late summer sun warming their backs.

"He threw the first punch," Bakura said, without preamble.

"Hmm."

"Sorry if we wrecked any of your flowers."

Atem sighed. "Flowers are flowers. They'll grow back."

"Sorry. It got out of hand."

Atem shrugged. "I'm not upset. It just worries me that you two are on such earnestly bad terms. And I know," he added, when Bakura began to speak, "that it's all in good fun, to you. But not to him. Seto might really take your head off, if given half a chance."

"He couldn't."

"He could. He killed both our fathers, you know. Poisoned them."

Bakura blinked. "Oh. Gods, no, I didn't know that. I'm... sorry?"

"It isn't exactly common knowledge. For obvious reasons."

"Obviously not."

"It was in defense of me," Atem said, with a hint of a smile, "so I'm in no position to complain, but my cousin is capable of murder. And if he gets it into his head that you're a threat, to him or to me, he might just take matters into his own hands. That's what I'm nervous about."

"Poison, huh...?"

"He knows I'd be rather cross," Atem continued, "but my disapproval will only stop him to a point. If you agitate him enough, I can't guarantee how he'll act."

"Poison doesn't really work on me," Bakura said, after a moment. "But I'll keep an eye out for knives in my bed."

"Do that."

"His namesake suits him."

"Set..." Atem murmured, and then nodded. "Unfortunately so. But with one very important difference—he supports me, as pharaoh.

"Sure. He supports you so well that he ran off to play with the god cards for how long? Almost a year, right?"

"I've never feared that he might try to take the throne," Atem said, with a sigh. "And he's back, now. It was hard, for us both."

"You're too generous, Horus. And don't you dare take that as a compliment, because it's not."

Atem smiled grimly. "Perhaps... but he's my brother. And a far better brother than Set to Horus, in the legends."

"The legends set a pretty low standard, if that's your basis for comparison."

"Seto has his troubles. But I could count on him, if I needed. I would bet my life on that."

Bakura sighed; shook his head and shrugged. "You know him better than I do..."

"I do. But do watch yourself a bit more, around him. A crooked jaw wouldn't suit you any more than a crooked nose would suit him."

"You don't think it'd add to my dangerous look?" Bakura asked, grinning.

"I think the scar does just fine," Atem said, glancing over. "Besides, Ryou would be very upset."

"You're right about that... aah, he's going to be upset enough about this..." Bakura rubbed his jaw.

"Go to the healers now." Atem gave a dismissive wave. "They'll be able to bring the swelling down."

"Sorry."

"It's fine. Just don't let it happen again."

"Now be sure you lecture your good cousin with just as much authority, okay?"

Atem narrowed his eyes. "My authority has never worked on either of you. I know the best I can do is ask you both to be civil, as a favor."

... ... ...

"... Bakura..." Pharaoh Atem began.

"Hmm?"

"Would you like to tell me why you're wearing Seto's headdress?"

Bakura looked up from his seat on one of the courtyard benches, the headdress in question slipping slightly to the side. "Why, it has a serpent on it, and one that quite resembles Diabound, too. I supposed that made it mine, actually."

Atem massaged his forehead with one hand. "I asked you... please..."

"I don't owe you any favors, Pharaoh."

Atem was drawing breath when he was cut off by a far angrier, indignant shout of, "You wretched thief!" and Bakura sprang to his feet.

"You'll have to forgive me, Lord Horus! Another time!" He waved, then darted off through the garden, one hand clutching the headdress.

Atem stepped obligingly out of the way as his High Priest gave furious chase, albeit with a shout of, "Apologies, Cousin! Pardon me!" and then vanished from sight after Bakura.

"You mean Bakura is lying...?!"

"Not about hearing me sing last night, he's not..."

"Oh Ra..."

Bakura's grin widened as the banquet guests continued to urge their Pharaoh on. "How about it?" the Thief King called, to the trembling musicians. "How about 'Dirge for Osiris?' That's a great song to sing along to!"

It wasn't—it was well-known, but also a beautiful, dramatic song that required range and volume to carry off. Atem's face paled, and the musicians exchanged nervous, uncertain looks.

"The Pharaoh is a god, after all, isn't he?" Bakura crooned; took an unnecessary drink of his wine—evading the grab that Ryou made for the glass, from across the table. "He can give us a little song, if he's not frightened."

"Pharaoh, you don't have to..."

"Well, now I do," Atem replied bitterly. "He's going back to the dungeons for this, I swear to Ra..."

Atem stood slowly; stiffly. He held up his wine glass in what appeared to be a toast—an excuse, clearly, to drain it immediately thereafter. He motioned somewhat jerkily to the musicians as Bakura sat back down—clapping, and indeed igniting a brief flare of applause from about the table. The musicians, after another uncertain moment, started up the well-known song—the harpist taking the lyrical lead and the others following.

"Pharaoh..."

"Please don't think less of me, my love."

And then, Atem began to sing:

"Rent apart, body and soul, by the cruel Desert...  We search... we search... With beautiful Isis, we search... To bring you home... honored, beloved Lord... So you might, in turn, someday guide us home."

Yugi's breath stalled as the Pharaoh's voice—though with a slight, scarcely perceivable tremble to it—filled the banquet hall sonorously. It was with the utmost precision and skill that he hit each note; enunciated each lyric. His hands, visible to Yugi, were shaking far worse than his voice as the table fell to stunned, reverent silence.

"Gods above..." Ryou breathed; Bakura, across the table, was nodding sagely, looking sinfully pleased with himself.

As the song ended, Atem bowed briefly; sunk back down into his seat with all the dignity he could manage. Cheers and congratulations swelled up around him, but he waved them off with only a cursory graciousness.

"Oh, my poor, dear underlings... lying for my benefit..."

"Pharaoh, what are you talking about? That was beautifully!"

"Oh, partner, not you too, please..."

"Pharaoh, you sing wonderfully!"

"Please don't lie to me... this is too much..."

“Pharaoh, that was gorgeous!" Ryou exclaimed softly, oblivious to his timing. He was surprised when Atem replied with only a baleful look.

"And even little Ryou, too... it's too much, Yugi..."

The Thief King brightened, a smile like a child's slicing his face. "You're the kindest of Lords, certainly, Yugi Mutou!" He stood as Yugi fetched the keys from some ways down the hallway, then turned back and kissed Ryou's forehead with a murmur of, "Be back, my love." Yugi couldn't tell if it was for show or not.

"Just a quick walk around the garden," he said, as if to reassure himself of the fact. The Thief King came trotting—laudably restrained, in his excitement—into the hallway, and waited as Yugi re-locked the cell.

"Did you want to cuff me?" he asked, and Yugi shook his head.

"It wouldn't do a lot of good, anyway, if you decided to try anything."

Bakura laughed, flexing one bicep. "I know these look impressive, but I'm really not capable of shattering chains."

Yugi gave him an unamused look, less than assured. "Let's go..." he sighed, and Bakura kept obediently to his side as they walked down the corridor.

"So what's your sad story?" Bakura asked, conversationally. Yugi glanced over at him in surprise.

"My sad story?"

"You were a slave, right?"

Yugi nodded. "Yeah..."

"Parents sell you?"

"Oh no..." Yugi shook his head. "Someone I beat in a game. I bet my life on the game, against the debt on my grandfather's shop. He couldn't pay, so I played for a chance for him to keep it. But when I won, the man attacked me. And when I woke up, I had already been sold."

Bakura gave a low chuckle. "Ouch."

"From what I heard, he didn't make half of the money my grandfather owed him, by selling me. That made me a little happy."

Bakura laughed. "That is a bit satisfying. I still think you'd fetch a fairly high price, though."

Yugi gave him a baleful glance, but didn't speak as he opened the outer door of the dungeon complex. Bakura pulled a step or two ahead, but stopped just on the threshold. He raised his face and inhaled deeply, eyes closed.

"It's good to be alive."

Yugi blinked up at him in surprise, closing the door as quietly as he could manage. The Thief King certainly looked more magnificent in the open than in a cage, face turned up toward the moon, his scarred and supple body bathed in silver. Yugi was momentarily caught short of breath.

"I owe that to Ryou, you know," Bakura said, with a catty glance toward Yugi. Then he set off at a leisurely pace, Yugi trotting to catch up and then padding along beside him.

"Was that all true? What you told Atem?"

"You believed it," the Thief King said, with a sideways grin.

"But was it true?" Yugi repeated.

"Every word," Bakura replied easily. He kicked playfully at a stone in the path. "Ever wanted to die, little pharaoh-ling?"

"No."

"It's a wonderful thing, really, if you're lucky enough to live through it," Bakura said, gazing up at a tree as they passed. "You never see things the same way."

Yugi nodded slightly. "I know what despair is like," he said, "even if I've never wanted death. So I do have some idea of what you're talking about."

"I can imagine. From a slave to the betrothed of a pharaoh? It's like me, going from street rat to King of Thieves."

"You did that by your own merit, though," Yugi said, embarrassed. "I was lucky to have Atem appear to pick me up out if the mud."

Bakura shook his head. "You and the Pharaoh... there's something very special that exists between you two. The fact that you got dragged into the Shadow Realm with him is proof of that. And you earn your keep dueling for him, don't you? Am I right?"

Yugi nodded, though he lowered his head. "That's... yeah, that's the big secret..."

"Anyone who knows their way around the Shadow Realm could figure it out. Luckily, there aren't that many out there who do."

"Why do you know?" Yugi asked with interest.

"I made a deal with a demon. A monster. Zorc, in fact," Bakura said, pausing and gazing up into the lush branches of a tree. "I'm going to climb this," he informed Yugi, without looking down. "I'm not trying to escape, so don't freak." He leaped, then, and heaved himself up with powerful arms, vanishing with a leafy rustle.

"H-Hey!" Yugi called after him, then hurried to scramble up the trunk. When he broke out into the moonlight once more, close to the top of the tree, he found Bakura waiting there, leaning on a thick branch and gazing up at the sky.

"We all make contracts with them, those of us who duel," the Thief King said. "I just took it a bit farther. I gave Zorc a piece of my soul, and he gave me access to the Shadows."

Yugi gaped. "A piece of your soul?"

"Mmhm," Bakura touched the hollow at the base of his neck, then trailed his fingers down to the golden ring that hung, always, against his chest. "That was long before I met Ryou. That was when I was dying, for real, as a street rat with nothing and no one. That deal allowed me to keep living."

"But... you gave up a part of your soul..." Yugi breathed.

"Aah, but you're talking to the King of Thieves, little Yugi. I got it back, a long time ago. My soul's intact, I assure you, and I can walk the Shadows, and I command Zorc as my servant in mighty duels. A true King, don't you think?"

Yugi swallowed, wondering yet again if he'd made a terrible mistake by letting the Thief King out to take a walk.

But Bakura soothed his fears with a surprisingly soft smile, and said, "I could overthrow your Pharaoh on a whim. But you, Yugi Mutou? I think you might be able to get the better of even me."

"M-Me...?" Yugi asked, the branch he stood upon swaying.

The Thief King nodded. "You think I didn't have that duel won? Little Yugi, you're the one who beat me, that day. And Ryou says you're the one who saved me, when my pulse stopped. Now I sit in a dungeon, with my precious Ryou, and I'm happy of it, because of you. I don't think there's another god or monster or human soul that could have that kind of influence on me."

Yugi didn't know how to respond, so he remained silent.

"Why don't you want to talk to Pharaoh?" Bakura prompted, eventually.

Yugi sighed. "Because... he can't make it like things didn't happen. He tries so hard... and he does so much, for me... but sometimes... when we sleep next to each other... he can see them, too. The flashbacks. The dreams. They cause him more pain than they cause me. I... Physical distance makes it easier to keep our minds separate, so he doesn't have to dream about that, too."

Bakura nodded slowly; waited patiently for Yugi to find the words to continue.

"It's like... what he doesn't realize is... he can feel my terror, but I can also feel his guilt. He takes it on himself, and he tries to make it like it never happened. But that's impossible. You can't change the past. I have a future, now, and that's thanks to him, but he has to realize that... that the past isn't something either of us can help!"

Again Bakura nodded; said, "The past makes us who we are, pharaoh-ling—you, and I, and even Horus-incarnate, the Pharaoh. We'd be different people, if not for our pasts. It'd be foolish to change them, even if we could."

"I know." Yugi gave a weary smile. "I wouldn't change a thing."

"Neither would I," said the Thief King.

They gazed wordlessly up at the sky, together, for some time. Bakura sighed, softly and in apparent contentment. Yugi recalled a similar night spent with Ryou Bakura on the palace terrace, and smiled.

"You know, I was absolutely planning to escape, if you actually let me out tonight."

Yugi's jaw dropped, and he turned to meet Bakura's eyes—gleaming with humor. "What?!"

"I don't have it in me, though," the Thief King said, with a shrug. Then he dropped down through the boughs, and Yugi scrambled after him, landing just as Bakura was brushing himself off. "Let's head back. Don't want Ryou to wake up and think I've killed you and run off, or anything like that."

Yugi's eyes narrowed as he followed the Thief King back along the path. "Are you teasing?" he asked warily. "About intending to escape?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." Bakura grinned. "Even if I play tame, I'd like to at least keep you guessing."

Yugi huffed.

"We should do this again, sometime," Bakura said, stopping to run his hand gently through a flowerbed as he passed it.

"Not happening. Not after what you just told me."

"Really? Maybe I should make a break for it while I have the chance, then..."

"W-Wait just a minute...!"

"Kidding, kidding... or maybe I'm not?"

"Please stop!"

The Thief King laughed—a warm, deep sound, and Yugi felt his spirit lifted mysteriously. He looked up; saw Bakura's face in profile. The pale, disfiguring scar contrasted even more vividly with his rich skin-tone in the moonlight. The sight should have been a frightening one, but the Thief King's expression was peaceful; his laugh and his slight smile both genuine.

"The legends of the Thief King don't mention your good humor or your wisdom. Why is that, do you think?"

Bakura gave a loose shrug of his powerful shoulders. "When you get a reputation as a thief and a killer, no one cares to listen to your jokes or your anecdotes."

"Makes sense, I guess."

"I am a thief and a killer, Yugi."

"I know that," Yugi said, a bit uncomfortably. "But..."

"But nothing." Bakura, suddenly serious, turned to him. "You should have let me die, by all rational thought."

"I couldn't do that," Yugi said softly. "You reminded me of... and Ryou..."

"I'm not sorry you saved me," Bakura said. "I want to stay alive, for as long as possible. But you're a smart one. You had to realize what saving me could mean."

"But I wasn’t thinking about that," Yugi said. "I was thinking about your life. That's all."

"Why not think about all the lives I've taken? And those I might take, if I lived?"

"I didn't make a mistake by saving you—I'm sure of that! Why are you trying to convince me that I did?" Yugi asked, a bit exasperated.

"So you don't go trying to make friends with every killer and thief you meet," Bakura replied. "Just because it worked this time doesn't mean—"

"It worked?!" 

Bakura blinked. "It what?"

Yugi beamed up at him, any annoyance banished instantly. "Are you saying we're friends?"

The Thief King paused; replayed the conversation, for himself, and then gave a rueful chuckle. "Shit... little pharaoh-ling, don't twist my words."

"I didn't! You said, 'Just because it worked this time.' So you do admit that it worked!"

Bakura laughed; nudged Yugi's shoulder lightly with one fist. "Don't tell the Pharaoh, okay? I'm not sure he wouldn't have me put to death on the spot for claiming to be your friend."

Yugi nodded, his smile brightening further. "Sure! But he'll come around eventually, I'm sure of it." 

"With your skills of persuasion? I'm sure he will."

As they reached the entrance of the dungeon once more, Yugi said, "We should do this again, soon."

Bakura gave him a predatory grin—obvious histrionics that made Yugi chuckle. "And if I try to escape?"

"You won't," Yugi said, with certainty, and Bakura softened.