#tssth

"Ah! Jounochi!" Relieved, Yugi flagged down his friend in the hallway. Namu, beside him, paused.

"Yugi!" Jounochi trotted over; observed the stranger. "Who's this?"

"Namu," Yugi said. "He says he has some business with Pharaoh. Namu, this is Jounochi."

"Nice t' meetcha!" Jounochi exclaimed, sticking out his hand. Namu shook it obligingly. "Call me Joey, if you'd rather. I'm High Priest Seto's consort."

Namu blinked. "Ah. The High Priest's consort, and the Pharaoh's Husband. You two are good friends, then?"

"The best!" Jounochi said, looping his arm around Yugi's shoulder.

"Jounochi, would you mind keeping Namu company while I go look for Pharaoh?" Yugi asked, gently disentangling himself. Even if this Namu is trouble, Jounochi is one of the best fighters in the palace. It should be safe to leave Namu under his watch while I talk to Pharaoh.

"No problem!" Jounochi said, switching his attention to the newcomer. "Where do you come from, man? I love the pendant! Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

As Namu tried to respond to the barrage of small-talk, Yugi slipped away with a polite farewell. Whether or not Jounochi realized why I did that... everything's under control, for now.

"Pharaoh?"

From the drowsy feel of Atem's mind, the Pharaoh had only just woken. "Partner? What is it?"

"Are you expecting anyone by the name of Namu?"

"?"

Yugi let Atem pursue his recent memories; said, "He doesn't seem like a threat, but I left him with Jounochi for now."

"You shouldn't go up to strangers like that, Yugi. You should call for guards to deal with it."

"And scare some poor kid half to death?" Yugi replied. "Our guards get a bit overzealous sometimes. You know that."

 "Because they care, Yugi."

Yugi sighed; gave up, for the time being. "What do you want to do about this Namu?"

"Bakura is in the audience chamber. Let the boy talk to him, first."

Yugi gave a mental nod, then traipsed back to where Jounochi had kept Namu occupied. Namu looked up immediately when Yugi rounded the corner.

"The Pharaoh?"

Yugi shook his head. "Thief King Bakura hears complaints for him, usually. He'll decide if you need to see Pharaoh in person, or if your troubles can be dealt with a lower level."

Namu looked a bit perturbed, but nodded. "Alright. I'll go about it however the system dictates."

"Come on!" Jounochi called, motioning. "I'll bet Bakura has some good wine with him."

"Wine?" Namu questioned, bewildered, and Yugi shook his head apologetically.

"Do you drink, Namu?" Jounochi asked. "You should have a drink with us, later!"

"I don't... usually..." Namu murmured. "Except in the context of ritual..."

"A priest, then?" Yugi queried.

"Of sorts," was Namu's evasive reply.

"Hey, so the Thief King can be a bit... scary," Jounochi said, as they walked. "Just kinda depends on his mood. But that's just cause he gets off on watching people squirm, so don't be too alarmed, okay? He's actually a pretty good guy."

Yugi watched Namu for any notable reaction, but the newcomer only nodded seriously. "Thank you for the advice, Jounochi."

The room where Bakura fielded complaints was a simple but regal hall; the Thief King himself sat at one end, languidly lapping the juicy innards of a pomegranate off his fingers. The three boys entered from a side-passage, Yugi relieved to find the hall empty of visitors.

"Little Yugi!" Bakura stood to greet them; wiped his hands briskly on his robes. Yugi wondered where Ryou was, to scold him for his messiness. "What've you brought me?" he asked, with a nod to the stranger. "Tribute sacrifice?"

Namu stiffened, but Yugi shook his head. "This is Namu. He came to the palace hoping for an audience with Pharaoh."

"And the Pharaoh needs me to do his job again, eh?" Bakura asked, with a grin, then sat back down; he picked up the other half of his pomegranate and bit into it with a crunch. Yugi grimaced, wondering if he knew the rind wasn't usually eaten; knowing him, he might be fully aware or be oblivious. "Fine. Let's do this right, though—kid's gotta come 'round to this side and present himself properly, even if he was escorted here by the great Lord Yugi."

Jounochi nudged Namu with an encouraging murmur; the stranger edged forward. Yugi caught a curious, hostile flashing in his eyes as he looked at the Thief King; one glance at Bakura told Yugi that he had sensed something, too. But people were usually on edge around Thief King, so Yugi hardly considered that alone to be damnable.

Namu lowered himself slowly to his knees. "I present my troubles to the representative of the almighty Pharaoh Atem, with the utmost hope and faith."

Bakura nodded; gestured, with the hand that held the pomegranate. "Speak." His voice rumbled in his chest—not quite threatening, but powerful, certainly—the playfulness of a moment before gone.

Namu raised his head; said, "The Pharaoh has wronged my family."

Yugi stiffened, and Jounochi—trying to sneak the bottle of wine from behind Bakura's seat—came to attention.

Bakura's eyes widened fractionally. "Our Pharaoh? Or are you referring to the Pharaoh's line?"

It was a shrewd question. Egypt had been a deeply troubled place during the reign of Atem's father, and many of the lingering problems could be traced definitively to not Atem, but to Aknamkanon and his brother, Akhenaden. The idea that Thief King Bakura would draw such a distinction in this public forum surprised and pleased the Great Husband, and he felt himself smile.

A grimace flickered across Namu's face; was gone. "Both. What does that matter?"

Bakura shrugged. "All of Egypt was wronged by Pharaoh Aknamkanon. If that's the case, you're nothing special."

Namu stood abruptly, then faltered and took a step back. "Nothing special?"

The King of Thieves remained unimpressed. "Everyone in Egypt—myself for one, and even the current Pharaoh—suffered because of how the previous pharaoh handled things. If you're here to complain about a dead man's mistreatment of your family, I won't hear it. We have other, relevant things to deal with."

"Relevant?!" Namu demanded breathlessly, and Yugi came up beside the chair.

"Aren't you being a bit harsh?" he asked Bakura quietly, and the Thief King glanced over at him.

"I'm not. If I wanted to be harsh, little pharaoh-ling, you know it'd be worse than this." Then he turned, leaning back, and brought one foot up to rest on his opposite knee before addressing Namu. "Our current Pharaoh's fixed a lot of his father's mistakes, by now. There's prosperity—opportunity—everywhere. Again, if your complaint is with the current Pharaoh, I'll hear it. But if it's with his father or his uncle, reparations have already been made."

"My complaint is with the current Pharaoh," Namu said darkly, and Bakura held his gaze; the pomegranate, forgotten and slightly crushed in his grip, drizzled sticky scarlet down the length of his forearm.

"Then speak it. The Great Royal Husband brought you here personally, remember. Don't insult him by wasting all our time."

"I need to see the Pharaoh—Pharaoh Atem!" Namu snapped. "This is a waste of my time, this 'round in circles with you!"

"I represent Pharaoh Horus, in this hall," Bakura growled, and again Namu faltered. "If I judge it's worth his time, I'll summon the Pharaoh here myself. But if not, this is as far as you go."

Namu shifted, then reached for the rod that hung at his hip. He held it out. "Do you know what this is?"

"If it's a concealed blade, you won't make it out of here alive," Bakura said, and Namu shook his head.

"It's an artifact—an artifact my family has been tasked with protecting." The eye at the center of the rod's head began to glow, and Bakura stood. "You will call the Pharaoh here."

"Pharaoh!" Yugi reached out with his mind—found Atem, still groggy, and dragged their minds together. "Look at this!"

"What in Ma'at is that?" the Pharaoh breathed, even as he gathered context from Yugi's memories. "Artifact? Tasked with protecting? I don't know what any of that means!"

 "You don't know who this Namu is, then?"

"Not a clue. I'm on my way, though."

"Pharaoh, don't! He's obviously trying to draw you out!"

Yugi's attention was drawn suddenly by a hoarse shout from the Thief King—Atem saw it, too, through Yugi's eyes, as Bakura fell to his knees. Ryou's ring—where it hung, always, around his neck—glowed a blinding lavender.

"What in Isfet?!" Namu grunted, and his feet, mysteriously, skidded an inch or so backwards. He held the rod out more insistently; Ryou's ring vibrated madly.

"Bakura!" Jounochi shouted, lunging for Namu. Namu swung the rod towards him, Bakura left to collapse as it's pressure vanished. Jounochi, conversely, froze; his body convulsed, eyes rolling back and glowing violet.

"Suit yourself!" Namu spat. "I'll just make you my puppet, then!"

Jounochi's body went limp, for a moment, and then spun on unsteady feet. He flew at Yugi, eyes blank and hands outstretched. Yugi shut Atem out of his mind even as he felt the Pharaoh begin to race towards the scene. Yugi allowed Jounochi to plow into him, but got his legs up between them; he kicked out against Jounochi's stomach as his own back hit the ground, and so threw the other boy up and over him. Bakura had regained his feet, by then, but still swayed unsteadily.

"Relevant!" the stranger snarled, swinging the rod like a club; Bakura threw his arms up to protect his head, but the blow still connected and made him stagger. Yugi felt Jounochi grab him from behind and thrashed as his arms were wrestled behind his back. "I'll show you relevant! This whole palace is under the control of Malik Ishtar, now!"

The guards... where are our guards?! Yugi thought frantically, head twisting toward the various entrances to the hall.

Namu—or Marik Ishitar, rather—laughed. “Can you hear it? The sounds of battle? The Pharaoh isn’t as universally loved as you may believe. Even now, my forces are attacking your perimeter—occupying your guards while I destroy you from within your own walls!”

"Pharaoh!" Yugi reached out again; he felt Atem mere rooms away, now, and racing ever closer. He had a dagger in his hand, and it occurred to Yugi that the Pharaoh had only the most remedial training in such weaponry. "The attack! It's a diversion!"

"They're everywhere, Partner! They came out of nowhere—underground, I think! Diversion or otherwise, they're doing serious damage already!"

 "Malik... Malik Ishtar, he's...!"

 "Ishtar?!"

Malik raised the second artifact—the upside-down pyramid that hung around his neck—and chuckled darkly. "And now... as the Pharaoh himself approaches..."

The pendant began to glow with the eerie purple light of the Shadow Realm. Atem appeared, frantic, throwing the doors of the hall wide.  

"Get back, you fool!" Bakura snarled. "We're the fucking bait! Don't you get that?"

"Pharaoh! Run!" Yugi shrieked, even as Malik lifted the pendant higher.

"In the name of Shadows, Pharaoh, I banish you! Suffer, as I have, forever stranded in the darkness!"

"Yugi!" Bakura shouted over the rising and unnatural sound of wind—sand, too, materialized from nowhere, whipping about and stinging where it's grains struck exposed skin. "Separate your minds! You'll get caught up in the spell, too!"

Yugi didn't obey, but Atem heard and complied, severing their mental link violently enough to make Yugi cry out. Malik rounded on Bakura, lip drawn back.

"You can share his fate, Thief King! I won't forgive you for making such light of my family's pain!"

The pendant's glow intensified along with the forming gale around them; Yugi felt Jounochi stagger as the rod's light, conversely, faltered. Realizing that Malik was at some sort of a limit, Yugi called out to his friend, begged, "Jounochi! Jounochi, fight! Jounochi!"

Malik gave a furious snarl as the Jounochi staggered, his grip on Yugi slackening. Torrential sands had risen, engulfing both Atem and Bakura, and Malik's rod lost another bit of luminescence.

"Yu... gi...?" Jounochi asked blearily. Yugi kicked out and caught Jounochi's shin, making him yelp and stumble back.

"Run!" Yugi gasped out, finding himself back on his own feet. "Find Priest Seto and run! The palace is under attack—someone has to get away!"

"But—!" Jounochi began to object, then saw the Pharaoh Atem, with a cry, crumple. He grabbed Yugi's hands, swearing, "I'll be back! With help! I promise!" and then tore off.

Yugi felt a flutter of satisfaction as he watched Jounochi vanish, then turned and met Malik's furious gaze. The gale winds peaked, then began to quell; the sands that had swallowed up the Thief King and the Pharaoh fell, empty.

"Malik... Ishtar, was it?"

Malik pointed his rod toward the Great Royal Husband. "And for you too, Yugi Mutuo, infinite suffering. I'll see to it personally, and then send you to be with your beloved. I'll send you to him broken, and he'll suffer as I have. If he's still alive and sane, by then."

An odd golden light—the Eye of Anubis, Yugi thought, but couldn’t quite be sure—flickered on Malik’s forehead.

The doors of the hall began to open—not to reveal palace guards or servants, but to admit a rush of cloaked figures. Malik's rod glowed softly as he orchestrated their movement; bade them seize the Great Royal Husband, and had him dragged away.

... ... ...

Thief King Bakura slammed his fist, still sticky and red with pomegranate juice, into the dusty, lavender turf of the Shadow Realm. Atem, some ways from him, sat motionless and stunned.

"Where...?" he asked vaguely, and Bakura gave a coarse laugh.

"We're in the Shadow Realm, fool!" he spat. "Curse it. Somehow he banished us to the damned Shadow Realm!"

"Didn't you say that Destiny Board is the only way to get here, in the waking world?"

"Clearly I was wrong," Bakura snapped. "And I sure as Anubis’ foul breath don't know of any other way to get out."

They were silent, for a beat, each realizing the significance of that statement. Atem examined the dagger he still held, then tucked it into a sheath at his hip. He stood, a bit unsteadily, and began to pace.

"And to be stuck here with you," Bakura said, with a trace of humor. "That's some bitter irony, right there."

"I can't... sense Yugi..."

"If you'd been connected mentally, when that shit kid did whatever he did, lil' Yugi would be right here with us." Bakura looked down at Ryou's ring, seeming distant as he said, "I doubt you'll be able to touch his mind, from here."

"My father... kept some grave-keepers... by the name of Ishtar..."

Bakura blinked, letting the ring fall back against his chest. "Grave-keepers?"

"He only referenced them once, that I remember. And just a casual thing, like calculating their wages or something... but I'm certain..."

"So the kid does have a genuine grudge, ey?" Bakura asked. "And here I was all ready to give you the benefit of the doubt and write him off as some lunatic bastard."

Atem looked dutifully affronted; he muttered, "I can't listen to your nonsense... not right now..." and paced away from where the Thief King sat.

"I wouldn't go that way, if I were you," Bakura called after him, but Atem ignored it. The Thief King shrugged; stood, and brushed himself off. "And five..." he breathed, to no one but himself, "four... three... two... one..."

Atem shrieked as the ground collapsed beneath him; Bakura sighed trudging obligingly after the Pharaoh.

"I told you not to," he called, as he approached the ravine that had opened up in the sand. "I know this place well, Pharaoh—it'll kill you, if you don't pay attention. I know every detail and trap of its topography, by heart."

Atem, hanging by one hand from the edge of the cliff, huffed. "What are you expecting, cur? An apology?"

The Thief King reached him, looked down and crooned, "Well, considering how things have turned out, an apology might be nice."

"Bakura, quit fooling around," Atem grunted, struggling for a second handhold; the rocky ground kept crumbling away beneath his fingers when he grasped at it. "Bakura, curse it... help me...!"

The Thief King's grin widened, warping at the tremor in the Pharaoh's voice. "Help you?" he echoed, innocently. "Dear Pharaoh, why, in the exalted names of all the gods, would I do that?"

Atem's face lost a bit more of its color. "You..."

"I've been waiting for this moment," the Thief King sneered. As Atem reached up again, he placed his foot casually at the very edge of the cliff, blocking the Pharaoh's hand. "Foolish Pharaoh! We aren't in your palace, anymore—this is my place, and you're the guest."

Atem's face twisted with anger—anger and fear. "I knew it..." he hissed, bearing his teeth as the Thief King bent towards him. "May your soul know eternal agony, you filthy—aah!" He cut himself off as his wrist was grabbed.

"Foolish Pharaoh," Bakura chortled, his grin morphing into something far friendlier. He heaved Atem up—lifted him up out of the chasm, then hefted him effortlessly over his shoulder as the Pharaoh gave a shriek of protest. "You should have seen your face... ha!"

"Bakura, you... you stupid bastard..." Atem wheezed, his breath driven from him as Bakura's shoulder ground into his stomach. "That was too far... you rotten, stinking thief..."

"Payback for that time you made me think you were taking me to an execution," Bakura said, patting Atem's back.

"Put me down..."

"As the Pharaoh commands me."

But as Bakura went to lift Atem back down, the ground gave an unstable lurch beneath them. Bakura scarcely had time to realize what was happening—tried to leap away from the edge, but Atem's dead-weight slowed him—and they both plummeted downward amid a tumult of stone and tangled limbs.

Bakura grabbed and held tightly onto Atem's robes; the Pharaoh gave a shout of objection that was lost in the melee. They tumbled down the cliff-face, locked together, as a craggy landing loomed up beneath them. With a grunt, Bakura thrust the Pharaoh away from him; Atem cried out as he continued, for dozens yards, to tumble along alone. He rolled a clumsy, bumpy halt at the bottom of the ravine, groaning softly with pain.

Every inch of Atem's body felt bruised, battered, and he took a long moment to catch his breath before pushing himself upright on trembling arms. He craned his neck, squinting up at the jutting rock ledge he had been thrown past, and saw Bakura's head appear from atop it.

"Pharaoh Horus! You still alive?"

Atem scowled. "What in Ra did you think you were doing? Are you trying to kill me, after all?"

"Clearly, this is all part of my master plan," Bakura called down, grinning.

Atem struggled to his feet, assessing the damage: a dozen spots scraped bloody, his clothes torn, his whole body one massive ache. "This only happened because you were joking around, up there. And then you go and shove me, damn you! When you get down here, I may put you out of your filthy misery myself."

"Why don't you come up here and just try it?" Bakura sneered, with an inappropriately playful grin.

Though the slope was traitorous and crumbly, Atem, fuming, made the climb in a few calculated leaps. He drew a breath to shout something but pulled up short when he saw the Thief King, sprawled out on his belly with his right leg twisted out gruesomely behind him. Drag-marks in the sand showed how he'd crawled from a blood-stained spot of impact to the ledge's edge.

Bakura smiled; said, "Help me up, please. It's way too strange, looking up at you."

"Oh Osiris..." Atem breathed, and slumped onto his knees. "You... the impact was..." This shelf... hitting it was a sudden stop, with all the force of the fall behind it. Tumbling down the embankment, to the bottom, that was a gradual stop. "You know the topography... you pushed me..."

"Do try not to think the worst of me," Bakura said, with a slightly pained note in his voice. "It is how things are, between us, but it gets a bit old.”

Atem moved shakily forward; Bakura allowed himself to be rolled slightly over, though his teeth grit in pain. Atem examined his leg—femur smashed in multiple places, and hip mangled just above it. The knee seemed intact, somehow, as did everything below it. The blood on the ground had apparently come from a contusion just below Bakura's hip—the first and worst point of impact, it seemed. The skin had split, broken bone visible just beneath.

"The bleeding... isn't bad, at least," Atem murmured, and the Thief King gave a laugh made hoarse with pain.

"Right... there's that, at least. Help me up, I said. We can't stay exposed like this."

Atem nodded vaguely but didn't move. He started violently when Bakura grabbed his wrist.

"Pharaoh! Don't act like you've never seen damned blood before! We can't stay exposed!"

"Bakura... you..." Atem's face twisted, for a moment, and then he nodded; looked away. He looped Bakura's right arm around his own shoulders—narrow, compared to those of the Thief King—and heaved the other man up. Bakura staggered, hopping on his left foot to gain his balance as he tried not to knock Atem over. He gave a stifled shout of pain as his leg was jostled, but bit back any other exclamations.

Slowly, with agonizing care, Atem navigated them both back down the slope. The Thief King's weight on him was almost more than he could tolerate, but he didn't let himself falter. He thought of the agony that Bakura must be in and used it to lend perspective to his own discomfort.

Along the ravine wall, they came to a shallow indent—it could hardly be called a cave, but it was cover, at least. Atem lowered them both to the ground, slowly. Bakura collapsed back against the stone, his breathing ragged, his face unnaturally ashen, and his eyes closed.

"Bakura? Listen to me, you're not going to die here." Atem wasn't sure what compelled him to say it, but he couldn't hold the words back. The Thief King's lips twisted into a wry little smile.

"Great gods, Horus, you sound ridiculous..."

Atem shivered. "Look, this is the Shadow Realm, right? I have my deck with me, and you always carry yours. Can't we use Monster Reborn or Miracle's Wake to fix you?"

Bakura shook his head faintly. "Nah... those cards only work when you die. And even then, they don't fix you." Opening his eyes as slits, he moved one shaky hand to pull back his robe. "See this?" He ran his finger along a knot of scar tissue on his side. "Knife wound. Killed me. Monster Reborn brought me back, but the wound was still there when I woke up. It healed at a normal pace, after that. And when I came back because of Miracle's Wake, when I fought you, I couldn't move for hours afterwards. I've had some luck using Life Point restoration spells, like Goblin's Remedy, to speed up healing, but I don't have any of those with me, and I don't think you keep any in your deck either, right?"

Atem shook his head miserably. "No... I don't."

Bakura sighed; closed his eyes again. "And no trees or brush here, so nothing to even make a splint... Aah... well, guess I'll just die..."

"You're not going to die!" Atem objected; his voice broke on the last word.

Bakura chuckled. "Ha... got you again, Pharaoh..."

Atem bit his lip, tried to keep his composure, and whispered, "Yeah... you got me..."

Neither spoke for a moment, Bakura's harsh breathing the only audible sound. Then Atem rose, went to the mouth of the little alcove.

"There has to be some other way to get out of here..." He gazed out, virtually unseeing, and only looked back when Bakura made a pained little noise. Alarmed, he hurried back to crouch beside Bakura as the thief struggled to straighten out his leg.

"How can I help?"

Bakura shot him a baleful grin. "Take off my outer robe and tear it into strips, would you?"

Atem nodded and did as he was bade, drawing the small dagger at his hip to cut the rich crimson fabric. Bakura labored to get his bones into some semblance of the right shape. Then, together, they bound the injured limb with fabric, though not much could be done for the hip itself. At some point, Bakura also stuffed a scrap of cloth into his mouth and bit down to keep from wailing. The skin on his face and fingers grew slick with sweat.

When the job was done, Bakura slumped back with his eyes screwed shut; gave an odd series of crooning sobs into the rag, saliva leaking out past it. Atem sat awkwardly beside him, unsure of what to do.

Eventually, Bakura collected himself and opened his eyes; he pulled out the gag and threw it to the side, then wiped his mouth, avoiding Atem's gaze.

"I don't know if there's another way out of here, but there's something we can try." Bakura's voice was rough; scratchy. "There's a kind of center, in the Shadow Realm—like the center of a vortex. I've never gone too close to it, but... if there's an answer anywhere, it's there. The rest of this place is just empty wasteland."

Atem nodded, swallowing against the bile in his throat. "Right... that's something. We just need a chance."

Bakura placed one hand against the stone wall; it trembled almost uncontrollably, and Atem lurched to wedge himself under Bakura's arm as the Thief King tried to get up. After a tenuous moment, when both of them might have totally collapsed, they managed to stabilize.

"Aah... how pathetic," Bakura groaned, then gave a soft, involuntary yelp of pain. He snapped his teeth shut, and Atem could tell from the heave of his chest that he was trying hard not to cry out.

"We'll summon a monster, as transport," Atem said, and Bakura nodded reluctantly.

"Which one, do you think?"

Atem shrugged. "You're more experienced with things like this than I am."

Bakura thought for a moment, then said, "You're just trying to give me some sense of control, aren't you?"

Atem huffed. "You give me too much credit."

Bakura gave a pained smile, then pulled his deck out, leafed through it, and selected a card. "I summon Curse of Dragon!"

The air around the two humans swirled; buffeted them, and nearly knocked them both over. The monster screeched, when it had formed, and gave a flap of its skeletal wings as it settled down on the sand.

"Hey, friend," Bakura called, reaching out a hand. The monster screeched softly, bobbing it's head like a great bird. "Give us a ride?"

The monster rotated, slightly; bore it's back and stooped low. Atem and Bakura made their arduous way over to it, and then, with Atem's support from the ground, Bakura managed to heave himself up onto its back. The Pharaoh followed, feeling irrationally guilty in his freedom of movement. The gaps in Curse of Dragon's backbone made for decent seats, and Atem held onto the vertebrae just in front of him.