(no subject)

[the_goldenpath]

Title: Trilogy of the Seven Holy Souls : Book 1 : Past (2/?)
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Pairings: mention of Mariku (Yami no Malik) x Akeifa (King of Thieves Bakura), forthcoming friendship Atemu & Yuugi, Ryou & Akeifa (King of Thieves Bakura), Malik & Mariku (Yami no Malik)
Genre: action, adventure
Summary: (Ancient Egypt) Yugi, Ryou and Malik are destined to fulfill a prophecy; they have to find their dark halves, the other sides of their soul, in order to save the world from total chaos and destruction, and before the Shadow Games are fully unleashed.
Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! is copyrighted to Takahashi Kazuki.
Author’s notes: I refer to Yami no Bakura in this fic as “Akeifa” (fanon name by lack of his real, given name in the AE arc). Canon events are butchered and twisted to fit my evil plot. Main characters are around 18-20 years of age. Feedback is greatly appreciated.




Mutou Yuugi = Yugi
Yami no Yuugi/Atemu = Pharaoh Atemu
Yami no Bakura/ Touzouku-oh Bakura (King of Thieves Bakura) = Akeifa (this fic only)
Bakura Ryou = Ryou
Ishtar Malik/Marik = Malik Ishtar
Ishtar Isis = Aishizu
Yami no Malik = Mariku
Mazaki Anzu/Téa Gardner = Téana
Jounouchi Katsuya/Joey Wheeler = Jouno
Kaiba Seto = Seto
Odeon/ Rishido = Riishid


Key:
--------- = scene change

-------------------

The lone traveler patted the neck of his sandy colored horse and grinned. “Just a few more miles. Aah, I can’t wait to sleep in a decent bed again.”
The horse snorted in response, longing for a nice, dry stable itself. The trail was hardly recognizable, but Akeifa1 had been here before and he had an excellent memory; he only needed to see things once to remember it for the rest of his life. He clacked his tongue, encouraging the horse, getting bored of the steadfast, though monotonous travel. His maroon red robe with white borders on the sleeves was large enough to cover the two protruding packs, strapped behind him on the horse’s back.
Whistling a non particular tune, his thoughts went back to his recent looting. He’d pilfered some priest’s tomb and had hit a veritable gold mine- he couldn’t wait to show off the pendant he looted to Mariku. He grinned, and the scar on the left cheek on his face crinkled. It’d almost cost him his left arm, but that was the exhilarating danger of robbing tombs. He lived for the excitement of disarming traps, of outsmarting those snotty priests who tried to come up with new thief-discouraging systems. He lived for the challenge of unearthing an artifact, the physical rush when stealing priceless objects, or planning a new heist. This one had been particularly difficult. Mariku knew much about artifacts; he was the right person for information. Akeifa grinned again.

“One more hill, horse.” The animal obeyed and slowly arrived at the top, providing a wide view of the valley. Akeifa looked down apprehensively- the Ersh’Alaam oasis had just been a simple resting place, in hands of the esteemed Ishtar family for centuries, until the eldest of the sacred tribe of Tomb Keepers evicted all of his family and turned the place into a fortified stronghold. It was but one of the many traditions and rules Mariku Ishtar had broken.
The white plastered settlement came into sight. After separating from his underground living family, Mariku had build the first three-story house on his own, adding defensive walls with a massive gate, stables and other buildings for cookery, crafts and animals for the people he enlisted in his service. Akeifa grinned thinking of his friend. Mariku had established a nice reputation and business as a tradesman, but that was just the surface. Lots of people knew Mariku operated outside every known law, but few knew what and how exactly he was doing.

Akeifa noticed a third stable for camels and horses under construction- business really was going well for his Egyptian friend. He couldn’t wait to show him the golden trinkets he acquired; if there was one man who could get an excellent price for them, without any trace leading back to him, it was Mariku. The gate was open, and two burly guards looked up at him. One was about to say something, but he was cut of by a loud voice.
“Effendi2 Akeifa!”
Akeifa waved at the corpulent man coming towards him. He let go of his reigns and climbed off the horse.
“Bobasa! Sadik3! So good to see you.”
“Muallim4 Ishtar will be so glad to see you again! It’s been so long.” Bobasa grabbed Akeifa by the wrists. “Welcome! You look great!”
“Thank you Bobasa,” Akeifa said and threw his backpacks at him. “Take care of that, will you?”
Bobasa bowed. “I’ll make sure that your rooms are prepared, effendi.” He straightened himself and snapped with his fingers. Another servant approached Akeifa.
“Effendi, this way.”

Akeifa followed the servant to a guest room in the main building, already reveling in the cool shade of the hallway. Traveling through the scorching desert had tired and him. He pulled his maroon red cloak together and flicked his chopped, shoulder length, white hair aside. The servant motioned for him to take place in the waiting room, mentioning he was going to get some water. Akeifa heard voices coming from the adjacent room, one of the three reception rooms of the house, and peeked through the separating screens.
“And it’s imperative that you tell me,” he heard the low, clipped voice of his friend. Two young boys stood in front of Mariku, who was shielded from view; one with raven black hair in a pony tail and locks framing his face, one with short pointed brown hair. They both two wore light gray cloaks, carefully masking their clothes. Spies, Akeifa had no doubt about that, and probably from the Pharaoh’s palace. Mariku was infamous for having spies everywhere. The two young men took a bow and where about to leave, when Mariku motioned a scribe to come over. The elderly man gave the two a piece of papyrus; they would get their payment back in town. They finally left the room, passing Akeifa and he gave them a second look, out of an old, die hard habit.

The servant had returned with two recliners of ice cold water and motioned Akeifa to walk in front of him.
“If you please, effendi…”
He had hardly stepped into the room when Mariku noticed him.
“Akeifa!”
“Mariku! Long time no see, you dog!”
“Shut it, rat!”
Laughing, they embraced each other. Mariku was in full “master and commander” dress, as Akeifa liked to call it: a shenti that reached mid-calf, with a pleated sleeveless shirt, held in place by a loin pendant in the colors of the Pharaoh- light blue with an embroidered white border. Combined with a hooded robe and a dark purple cloak that reached the floor and wearing extensive jewelry - five bracelets in a row on both arms and ankles, and bracelets on the upper arms and a heavy choker on the neck, all solid gold -, Mariku Ishtar surely was impressive. His long, sun bleached hair, almost white in certain strands, stuck up in various angles and his lavender eyes rested on the thief.
Why Mariku still wore a loin pendant in the colors of the same Pharaoh he hated was a riddle to Akeifa, but he didn’t comment. He knew the reasons why the eldest Ishtar hated the Pharaoh, just as he had his own reasons to hate him. Kuru Eruna. His revenge wouldn’t be forgotten.

1) Once again, this is how I’m going to refer to Yami no Bakura in this fic, as his name is too obvious Japanese for the setting of Ancient Egypt. I think it was thought to be his real name for a while, but it turned out to be a fanon name, as Takahashi never revealed the ‘true’ name of our beloved tomb robber. I do not claim to have thought up this name myself.
2) Effendi : it’s in fact a title of respect in Turkish, meaning “sir”, but I liked it. ^__^
3) Sadik : very informal way of saying “friend”
4) Muallim : Egyptian for “Master” (of the house)