Pharaoh and the Thief

Warnings: None in this chapter. A bit of course language. Lemon coming up, though.
Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone that reviewed! I really appreciate them. Well, here’s the next chapter, it’s pretty uneventful, but it will get more exciting soon.

Chapter 3

Bakura awoke with a groan. He hurt. Everywhere. Just opening his eyes hurt. He winced as he did anyway, and was surprised not to feel dried blood cracking from the movement. Surly there should have been blood. He reached up to gingerly touch his face where most of the throbbing pain was coming from and found it clean. With a start, he also realized he still had both his hands. The last thing he remembered from the tussle with the guards was struggling not to let them disable him.

No, he remembered someone stopping them.

He glanced down at the rest of his wounds. He was still in pretty bad shape, but he’d been cleaned up and his wounds dressed. He also realized with a start he was in a large soft bed with nearly transparent curtains drawn around it. This was new. He was used to waking up in gutters or prison cells after fights covered in dried blood and wishing he was dead. Someone had not only saved him, but taken care of him. Why? Why would anyone be concerned with a prisoner? He didn’t know the answer to his own questions, but his instinct was telling him it didn’t matter. He had gotten lucky, and now he needed to use this to his advantage.

Bakura tried to sit up and immediately regretted it as the bruised muscles of his stomach screamed from the slight movement and one of the healed over wounds on his back reopened. Bakura decided after the pharaoh, those guards were the next to die in a very painful and inventive manner.

He gingerly maneuvered himself into a sitting position, gasping at the pain. He pulled the sheet down to reveal his stomach decorated with multi-colored bruises. He could only imagine how his face looked, and the healing lashes on his back threatened to tear open again with every movement. He slowly climbed out of the warmth of the bed and managed to stand up, surveying the room. It was rather luxurious, unlike anything he had ever been in before. Bakura noticed his robe and other clothes had been laundered and placed on a dresser near his bed. He stiffly went about getting dressed, wanting to get out of here as soon as possible.

As he was trying to pull the robe on his shoulders rather ineffectively due to his broken fingers, he heard the door open and whipped around, letting out a groan at the abrupt movement.

“Oh, I see you are awake,” the man from the alleyway said, smiling at him. Bakura scowled. So this was his savior. Again. He’d have to make a point to stop running into this all too helpful man.

“Here,” the man said, stepping behind Bakura, “let me help you.” He settled the robe on Bakura’s shoulders for him, mindful of the other man’s wounds. Bakura went very stiff at his touch. It was one thing to help him out, but he didn’t want this man getting too close.

The man backed away and stood facing him. “How do you feel?” Warm concerned filled his eyes and Bakura balked from it.

“Like I’d been tortured by two palace guards,” Bakura replied bitterly.

“I’m sorry about that,” the man said sincerely. “That should never have happened.”

“So you’re the one who stopped them from cutting off my fucking hands?” Bakura inquired nastily. The man only nodded, watching the thief.

Bakura was feeling increasingly uneasy. He didn’t know this man, and he didn’t like the way he kept coming to Bakura’s rescue, and he really didn’t like the way he kept looking at him. “Who are you?” Bakura demanded harshly.

The man actually seemed to consider this for a moment. “My name is Atem.” Bakura eyed him warily. “I work here, at the palace,” he said comfortingly, as if afraid Bakura would bolt, which is exactly what Bakura felt like doing.

“What do you do at the palace?” Bakura demanded, not put off by the soothing voice.

“Does it really matter?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“What’s your name,” the shorter man asked suddenly. Bakura glanced suspiciously at him.

Finally, after a long pause he whispered, “Bakura.”

“Bakura,” Atem said, as if trying the name out for himself, “nice to meet you.”

Bakura didn’t respond, but just stared at the spiky haired man in front of him.

“You still haven’t told me what you do in the palace,” Bakura reminded him gruffly.

Atem smiled. “I’m a steward.” Bakura eyed him suspiciously, and then seemed to accept what the man said and strolled over to the window.

He inspected the frame. He was on the second story, but the outcroppings of the rocks would help his decent. He looked guiltily at the silk sheets on the bed in consideration. No, he wouldn’t destroy them if he didn’t have to. He pressed his hands against the window frame and peered out. This was going to be difficult with broken fingers. Maybe he should try his luck through the palace.

“What are you doing?” Atem’s voice interrupted his plans of escape.

“What’s it look like?” Bakura growled.

“It looks like you’re trying to climb out that window, but I didn’t want to insult your intelligence by assuming that,” Atem replied coolly. Bakura glared at him.

Atem sighed. “If you climb out that window in your state, you are going to kill yourself.”

Bakura hated to admit it but he was right. “Well how else do you propose I get out of here?” he demanded.

Atem raked his eyes over the other man’s wounds. “Why do you want to leave?”

“Why do you think?” Bakura asked incredulous, feeling uncomfortable under the man’s appraising eyes. “I’m a prisoner. This royal treatment isn’t going to last much longer, and I’m not going to hang around here to find out what happens when the generosity wears off.”

“Nothing will happen to you until you are fully healed,” Atem replied earnestly. “I can promise you that. You’ll get much better treatment than you could manage out there,” he said motioning out the window.

“And what happens after I’m all healed and dangerous again?” Bakura asked his eyes hot with unjustified anger.

“Can’t you just wait until that happens?” Atem asked. Bakura didn’t answer. That man, Atem, was right. Even if he managed to escape, where would he go? He had no money here. And he wasn’t exactly in his prime. It would take weeks for him to heal before he could go after the pharaoh. He was already feeling exhausted from just his few moments of exertions right now. Suddenly an idea struck him. Why shouldn’t I stay here? He thought. Might as well live high off the pharaoh before I tear out his throat.

“Okay,” Bakura said, emerging from his thoughts. “I’ll stay.”

A smile lit up the other man’s face. “Good. You should get some rest. I can bring you something to eat later.”

Bakura nodded his agreement and tried to struggle out of his robe so he could climb back into that blessed softness of the bed when strong fingers grasped the shoulder of his robe and pulled it gently off of him. Bakura glared at the floor and climbed into bed without so much looking at the other man, hating his apparent weakness.

A small smile graced Atem’s lips as he watched the thief crawl gingerly back into bed. He pulled the curtains closed for him, then slipped out of the room.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“I’m sure there are plenty of servants that can tend to the thief,” a voice said as Atem closed the door to Bakura’s room behind him.

Atem turned to see Seth strolling towards him. “Akhenden thinks it is unwise for you to spend time in such company.”

Atem growled. “What happened to him was uncalled for.”

“It’s not your fault,” Seth replied. “The guards went against your will.”

The pharaoh shook his head. “I still allowed it to happen. If I hadn’t gone to the dungeons, this could still be happening. It is my responsibility as pharaoh to keep them in line and I was neglecting my duties.”

Seth seemed to consider this. “Do you think a common thief like that is really going to appreciate the pharaoh personally tending to him?”

Atem smirked slightly, “He doesn’t know I’m the pharaoh.”

Seth seemed slightly taken aback. “No?”

“He didn’t recognize me and I neglected to tell him,” the pharaoh replied, following Seth down the corridor. “I met him the other day in the market; most people there don’t recognize me without my royal attire.”

“You met him in the market?” Seth asked shaking his head. “Does Akhenden know?”

The pharaoh shook his head, “No, and I forbid you to tell him. Besides, he wasn’t threatening. He was perfectly respectful.”

“Really?” Seth asked doubtfully. Atem smiled. “Well, maybe not respectful. But I asked him to return the necklace he stole, and I think that’s what he was doing when he was caught.”

Seth looked at the pharaoh in slight disbelief. “You told a thief to return an expensive necklace and not only did he comply, but he was arrested in the process?”

Atem nodded. Seth just shook his head. “So now you what? Feel indebted to him?”

“Yeah,” Atem said quietly. “I suppose I do.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Bakura lay in the soft confines of the comforter unable to fall asleep. It was that dratted man, Atem. Bakura didn’t know why, but he made him feel uneasy and inadequate. For Ra sakes, he talked him into returning a necklace worth a fortune. And now he dare dote on him like some injured puppy.

Bakura growled. Why couldn’t he escape from this man? He supposed he should be thankful for all the trouble he’d gotten him out of, but Bakura wasn’t thankful to anyone. Atem was all too interested in Bakura for Bakura’s peace of mind. He’d have to be on guard around him from now on. He was here for his revenge and nothing could get in the way of that.

Bakura’s thoughts sank back to his village. Screams and the scent of burning flesh permeated the air and blood ran thick down the walls of their homes. His family and friends slaughtered while he hid like a coward.

Bakura shook those images forcefully from his head. He wouldn’t need to dwell on those painful memories for much longer. Soon he would have his revenge. A menacing smile twisted on his lips as he imagined the moment he could finally wrap his fingers around the pharaoh’s neck. He’d never strangled anyone before, and he sorely hoped he could feel the life slip from the pharaoh’s body as he had seen it slip from his parents’ eyes.

Bakura finally fell into an uneasy sleep where dreams of revenge were replaced by dreams of slaughter.