The Thief and his Willow

The Thief and his Willow

Chapter Four: Bakura’s Choice

-

Four terrified slaves followed Bakura along darkly hit hallways. Each held their head down, keeping in pace with Bakura’s larger, swifter steps. And of those slaves, there was Rye. She followed right behind Bakura, her nose able to pick up his rich scent, an aroma Rye knew was natural. She and the others continued to follow until Bakura and they came to two large doors painted over in black.

Bakura faces the women. “Keep your heads fully lowered when we enter. Lord Zorc is much more wicked than I, and he does not mind punishing those who disgrace him.” And Bakura turns, opening the large doors easily. He led the girls in, receiving a satisfied, grinning Zorc.

“Bakura, you have returned,” Zorc snickers. “And who, might I ask, are these enchanting beauties?”

Zorc would repeat his over-exaggerated question every day. Bakura grew used to it, but he always smirked to satisfy, and introduced Zorc to his new slaves. All ladies bowed their heads, doing exactly as they were told to do from Bakura. Rye did so too, trying her best not to tremble.

Never has Rye seen such a terrifying sight as Zorc. She could not believe that where she stood was true. It had to be some wild dream! But no, Zorc stood there in full, true flesh, eyeing her small body up and down.

But unknown to Rye, another was also eyeing her.

“You have done well Bakura,” Zorc chuckles. “Like I had expected anything less. You are, indeed, a fine attendant.”

Bakura bows. “Thank you, my master.” And for a brief moment, Bakura suspected that Zorc’s ‘promise’ to him had been false. Zorc was silent, continuing eyeing his new prizes. He hardly took notice of Bakura’s disappointed snarl.

“All very beautiful,” Zorc whispers, then. His words surprised the slaves, but they even surprised Bakura. Was this not over yet? “They are all very beautiful. If I may ask, Bakura, is there a reason you’ve chosen such gorgeous women compared to usual?”

“What do you mean sir?” asks Bakura, acting as if he did not remember.

But Zorc saw through him. Zorc laughs, then, cackling like some wild animal, his red eyes glowing more brilliant than usual. “Bakura, have you not forgotten my generosity?”

So the terrible demon still remembers. Of course he did. Bakura should never doubt his master’s words. But Bakura was even more thankful. “I have not forgotten, my master.”

“I did not think so,” Zorc chuckles. “Isn’t it true that no man lacks when he’s working for something he wants?”

Bakura bites at his lower lip. His master was one for using attractive quotes -- and Bakura sometimes pondered his master’s intelligence. “Yes, my master.”

Silence follows, causing the young females’ to shiver by Zorc’s un-removable gaze, and Bakura’s obedient posture.

Zorc leans further against his throne, eyeing Bakura’s posture. The moment Bakura had entered, Zorc immediately knew which of those beauties the young man craved. Zorc could see the willingness in Bakura’s eyes, watching them drift over the young lady’s small, fragile body. And Zorc could see why Bakura melted at her sight. She was stunning, an absolute beauty! Why, if Zorc had not kept his promise, he surely would have his way with that girl -- that night. But a promise is a promise, and Zorc always kept his word, whether bad or good.

“So,” Zorc finally speaks, resting his chin in one palm, “Have you come to a decision on which beauty you’d love to entertain?”

Bakura stands, keeping his body bowed. “I have, my master. If I may?”

Zorc nods. Bakura gives his thanks, walking in front of each of the lovely ladies. He eyes her -- Rye -- seeing her body shaking more than the others as she eyes him with fear. Bakura smirks at her, and he could tell she knew he has chosen her. He slowly walks up to her, until he is face to face with his delicate choice.

Swiftly, Bakura sneaks his hand over Rye’s right arm, pulling her out of line. He turns to Zorc, ignoring Rye’s startled expression. Bakura was too happy to care about Rye’s feelings. “I crave for this beauty, my master. The moment I spotted her, I knew that…” Bakura paused, knowing he has said too much. But his words have intrigued Zorc, causing echoes of the Lord’s sinister laughing to bounce off the throne room walls.

“Do not feel disappointed, Bakura! Is it not fine for a man to crave a young, beautiful woman?” Zorc’s eyes drift over Rye. She stares up at him, trying to hide her small form behind Bakura. Perhaps being chosen by the young man wasn’t such a bad thing? Zorc smiles from Rye’s fear of him. “You have made an excellent choice. Now go, and show her where she will be staying.”

Bakura felt as if he had just won first prize. He bows, thanking his master meaningfully, unlike most days. With Rye still attached to his hand, Bakura forces the poor girl out of the room, with a chuckling Zorc echoing behind them.

--

Rye dare not speak. She could only allow Bakura to strongly drag her further and further into the darkness of this hell she’s been brought to. Of course, she knew she shouldn’t complain. Bakura had saved her from Zorc’s clutches. He had not told the Dark Lord about the deal Jalal had made with her father. She is to be untouched. But Rye still held in her this terror -- a terror she understood could be devastating.

What if Bakura ignored Jalal’s warning?

No! Rye could not think of that. She had to be brave -- strong, if she wanted to escape.

After a short while, Rye found herself staring at the entrance to Bakura’s bedroom chamber. She stood still as Bakura took out a small copper key, unlocking the door in one swift motion. He turns to her, smiling with confidence. “Please, come in.”

His very words sent shivers down Rye’s spine, but she took his courtesy and entered the chamber, him following. The door slams shut, leaving Rye and Bakura alone in the room. Rye kept her head bowed, not daring to stare into Bakura’s eyes. They haunted her, for some reason -- a reason she couldn’t place her foot on. But his eyes were piercing and almost cold.

Bakura circled Rye like prey, taking in more and more of her beauty. He knew he has chosen well, and he knew he could do no better with any of the other girls. And though he has made his choice, Bakura felt a tinge of sadness, for he knew he could not do what he planned with her. Jalal’s words of remembrance hurt. Rye was destined to be a ‘non-touchable’ slave, most likely spending hours a day cleaning toiletries or preparing warm meals for he and Lord Zorc. Bakura was hoping for more. He was hoping for touch. To take her, right then and there -- after telling Zorc his decision. Sadly, he could not. Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t still -- have fun with her.

Still, Bakura knew that even if he could not do much of what he had planned to do with her, Bakura knew he could not allow Zorc to have her. Yes, he would have told Zorc she was a ‘special’ slave for cleaning and cooking duties only, but Zorc still would of forced something of her, and Bakura could not allow that image to play in his mind.

She was his now, and he’d keep her protected.

Smirking, Bakura takes his place in front of Rye, still sensing her fear of him. He takes her chin in hand, forcing her eyes to stare at his own. “Stop shivering,” he coos. “I am not going to hurt you.”

“I--I am sorry,” Rye whispers while keeping her voice proper. “I cannot help myself.”

The girl was brave, Bakura must admit. She held her voice firmly, and kept herself high. Bakura thought that perhaps in a previous lifestyle, hers was full of etiquette and fineness. She acted as so. She did not act as a slave should.

“You are something else,” Bakura said. He slides his hand from Rye’s chin to her cheek, brushing against shivering peach skin. “Such beauty with such manners. Tell me, where are you from?”

Rye began to feel uncomfortable. Bakura’s question startled her, but she knew she must answer or be given consequences. “I -- I was from a village far from Kumal. It no longer exists.”

“No longer exists?” Bakura’s hand moves to Rye’s hair, pushing it aside to see a lovely, small ear. Bakura flicks it with his finger, causing Rye to jump. “Why does it no longer exist? Does it mean nothing to you now? Did you run away?”

“N--no,” Rye sighs. Tears well at the corners in her eyes. Bakura notices this as Rye answers him. “I--it was b--burned. We w--were attacked by slave traders and m--many men w--with weird weapons. O--out of my family, o--only…” Rye pauses. She has begun to cry, and Bakura did not stop her. He wanted to hear more. He waited for her to finish sniffing before continuing: “My father and I--were the only to escape. M--my mother and l--little sister were m--murdered.”

Bakura could not believe his ears. And as a sudden sting of guilt pushed against his heart, he definitely knew he has made the perfect choice.

He takes Rye’s hand, leading her further into the small, cramped room. “That is your bed. And this one is mine.” Bakura sits on his bed, motioning Rye to sit next to him. Rye wishes to comply, but she obeys, taking a seat next to Bakura. The moment Bakura forced Rye into a hug, Rye began to push away, but Bakura held her firm against his chest. “Stop struggling. I’m not going to hurt you.” Rye did not believe him. She let more tears flow as he held her. A hand, Bakura’s hand, surprised Rye. It gently rubs at her hair, giving her a warm, tingly feeling. “Cry…”

“W--what?”

“Cry,” Bakura repeats. “Cry all you want. Let it all out, for as soon as the sun rises tomorrow, no longer will I allow you to shed a single tear. No longer will I allow you to be sad, nor blue. No longer will you be in pain, when in my presence. Take this opportunity, while it lasts, for those tears staining your pretty face, they do not suit you.”

His order seemed shocking, but to Rye, it was heaven. She has not cried in so long, being tossed and forced from slave trader to trader, them trying to find her a suitable owner. And now, here she was, sitting in the arms of an owner giving her such a fine opportunity: to cry. And she took it. She cried, not caring that his arms had wrapped more strongly over her tiny form. Not caring that his breath heated the skin on her neck. She could only cry, remembering the past that has haunted her so.

And as Rye cried, Bakura could not help but smell her delightful hair. He could not help wrapping his body over hers like a shield, sheltering her with his warmth.

She was all his.

His, and nobody else’s.

Rye was Bakura’s choice.

-Chapter Four End-

Well now, we’re getting somewhere. Stay tuned for more!