I SUMMON THE DARK MAGICIAN!
folder
Yu-Gi-Oh › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,138
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Yu-Gi-Oh › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,138
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own YuGiOh!, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
I SUMMON THE DARK MAGICIAN!
TITLE/S: I Summon the Dark Magician
PAIRING/S: Yugi/Yami, Dark Magician/Atem
WARNING/S: Implied HOMOSEXUAL pairings. Yum. Possibly angst!
RATING/S: Oh, PG?
DISCLAIMER/S: Keep forgetting to put these in: I do not, have never, and probably will never own these characters. Nor am I making any "sweet moulah" from this story!
I SUMMON THE DARK MAGICIAN!
Zwarte Goochelaar's tall frame materialised, folded onto a tiny desk chair. He didn't know why he had been called, but he suspected it had something to do with the heated argument flying across the small bed between his two masters. The taller boy, flaming eyes flicking between his small look-alike and Zwarte, seemed to be denying something, while the other, paler boy stomped his foot and gesticulated wildly. Zwarte couldn?t understand any of the conversation, because they were talking in Japanese, and he only spoke Dutch. Sure, he knew all the relevant commands in Ancient Egyptian, Arabic, Latin, Japanese and English among others, but that understanding didn?t really extend past the usual I SUMMON THE DARK MAGICIAN and DARK MAGIC ATTACK! Even then, it was more a feeling for the sentiment behind his master's call that told him what to do. He had never found time to study languages when he was in the physical world. He was too busy blowing things up.
The explosions here, however, were of a different variety. The emotions leaking through his connection to his masters told him that something painful was taking part within them both - his old master was projecting a fear of loss and a sense of confusion, while his young master was brimming with anger and betrayal. Who had summoned him? How? A scratching, creasing sensation at the edge of his body made him squirm. The Egyptian noticed, ruby eyes switching to Zwarte for a full second before turning to the younger master's hand. Suddenly, the taller boy flickered, vanishing and reappearing almost on top of his counterpart, grabbing the shorter boy's arm in what looked like a painful grip, forcing it up to his eye level. The smaller master yelped, clenching his hand tightly. Zwarte felt his dark purple robe rustle, and twitched as one of his legs twisted at an odd angle. The older master's voice had increased in volume and intensity, and his face swung between his smaller clone and the magician crumpling in the chair.
Zwarte caught an occasional DARK MAGICIAN in the taller master's tirade, and he could feel a frantic edge creeping in - a sense of desperation that Zwarte hadn't heard from the Egyptian beyond the confines of the Pharaoh's bedchambers. The smaller one's young anger bubbled viciously at the edge of his mind. What was happening? As the smaller master tried to push the taller boy away, Zwarte's arm was suddenly snapped against his side. It wasn't painful, as he knew pain, but it was uncomfortable, and the intense emotions from his masters' argument were having an effect on him. He felt panicky, but he knew that it was his job to appear strong and unbreakable at all times. His masters relied on that.
His masters. He had thought they were inseparable. How could they be otherwise? They shared the same spirit. At this moment, however, their fight was between two bodies, and that single spirit was being torn asunder. His older master must surely have the advantage, thought Zwarte, but the younger boy was clenching something in his fist, and while the Egyptian wanted it, he was obviously afraid of...
What was it? Zwarte leaned towards them, huge in the humanly dimensioned room, brilliant eyes peering at the object of his masters' argument. Closer still, until he was barely sitting on the chair. And then he saw it. Him. The card crumpled in the younger master's fist. He recoiled, noticing again the odd angles of his limbs, and the creases in his robes. That explained it. But why? Why were they doing this to him? (Obey your Masters).
He shook himself mentally. It was not his place to question his masters' intentions, only to act out their commands in good faith. He served them whole-heartedly. Although he wondered, watching the two figures grapple on the bed, how he could obey if one of them told him to... (Obey your Masters). That didn't bear thinking about.
The fight had escalated again. Zwarte felt a headache coming on, a headache like the one he got whenever they duelled that annoying brat with the hair and glasses. The smaller master was shouting - no, screaming - at his partner, while the Egyptian's voice was getting louder and more desperate. Was he begging? (Obey your Masters). It wasn't Zwarte's job to speculate.
Suddenly, the new master broke free, wriggling out from beneath the taller boy, and clamped his feet into a fighting position, back to the wall, arm stretched in front of him, hand brandishing Zwarte's calling card.
I SUMMON THE DARK MAGICIAN
(Obey your Masters). Zwarte stood, bending his head slightly to fit under the ceiling. His small master was pale and determined, the Egyptian dark and desperate.
DARK MAGICIAN, ATTACK...
(Obey your Masters). Zwarte brought his staff forward and up, channelling his power into the crystal at the top. (Obey your Masters). The desperation in the Egyptian's soul magnified, screaming into Zwarte's senses. Surely the young master wouldn't... (Obey your Masters). Zwarte looked between them, helplessly.
ATTACK MY LIFE-POINTS DIRECTLY!
(Obey your Masters). Zwarte's arm swivelled around, pinning his smaller master to the wall with the end of his staff. He couldn't resist that command. His master must know that, surely. (Obey your Masters).
The pale boy looked at him with huge purple eyes, sad and angry - and ... jealous? It had been so long since Zwarte had encountered that emotion. The Egyptian gave a low cry.
NO.
(Obey your Masters). But who? He hesitated.
DARK MAGIC ATTACK, whispered the boy.
Zwarte helplessly thrust his staff forward, hurting his young master. (Obey). Helpless. He couldn?t - (OBEY YOUR MASTER) - Zwarte closed his eyes, and...
DARK MAGICIAN!
(OBEY)
ATTACK!
He felt the powerful sizzle of his magic charge the crystal. (Obey. Obey). He kept his eyes screwed closed (obey) as he drew his arm back (obey) and released the bolt of -
NO!
Zwarte's eyes flew open. He couldn?t stop for his Egyptian, as much as he wanted to. He was bound to serve (obey) the one who summoned him - the master with the card.
NO! YAMI! STOP ATTACK!
But is was not the dark who had screamed. The old master had reappeared, standing half in front of the paler boy, and half inside him. Superimposed, prepared to take the full blast of Zwarte's power. It had been the other master's voice. The boy who, after seeing the staff averted, crumpled on the floor and sobbed into his hands, mumbling something over and over.
Zwarte caught the Egyptian's eyes for a long moment, blue fire trying to convey some meaning to the red, trying to burn through the inconveniences of spoken language, trying to demonstrate an understanding of the frustrations caused by being caught in someone else's world. Zwarte thought, maybe, that the Pharaoh finally understood the desperate need to cling to something cherished, to protect it above all else, to swear an oath...
As he felt himself fade from the physical world - or rather, he sensed the physical world disintegrate around him - he watched the Egyptian turn and gather his small counterpart into a strong hug, holding tightly, rocking back and forward, whispering kisses into the outrageous hairstyle they shared. Zwarte examined his reaction to the tableau, curious to see if he felt any ... jealousy. He didn't.
Before they disappeared completely, Zwarte reached out a hand, a blessing. He hoped he would never have to sit in one of their tiny chairs again.
PAIRING/S: Yugi/Yami, Dark Magician/Atem
WARNING/S: Implied HOMOSEXUAL pairings. Yum. Possibly angst!
RATING/S: Oh, PG?
DISCLAIMER/S: Keep forgetting to put these in: I do not, have never, and probably will never own these characters. Nor am I making any "sweet moulah" from this story!
I SUMMON THE DARK MAGICIAN!
Zwarte Goochelaar's tall frame materialised, folded onto a tiny desk chair. He didn't know why he had been called, but he suspected it had something to do with the heated argument flying across the small bed between his two masters. The taller boy, flaming eyes flicking between his small look-alike and Zwarte, seemed to be denying something, while the other, paler boy stomped his foot and gesticulated wildly. Zwarte couldn?t understand any of the conversation, because they were talking in Japanese, and he only spoke Dutch. Sure, he knew all the relevant commands in Ancient Egyptian, Arabic, Latin, Japanese and English among others, but that understanding didn?t really extend past the usual I SUMMON THE DARK MAGICIAN and DARK MAGIC ATTACK! Even then, it was more a feeling for the sentiment behind his master's call that told him what to do. He had never found time to study languages when he was in the physical world. He was too busy blowing things up.
The explosions here, however, were of a different variety. The emotions leaking through his connection to his masters told him that something painful was taking part within them both - his old master was projecting a fear of loss and a sense of confusion, while his young master was brimming with anger and betrayal. Who had summoned him? How? A scratching, creasing sensation at the edge of his body made him squirm. The Egyptian noticed, ruby eyes switching to Zwarte for a full second before turning to the younger master's hand. Suddenly, the taller boy flickered, vanishing and reappearing almost on top of his counterpart, grabbing the shorter boy's arm in what looked like a painful grip, forcing it up to his eye level. The smaller master yelped, clenching his hand tightly. Zwarte felt his dark purple robe rustle, and twitched as one of his legs twisted at an odd angle. The older master's voice had increased in volume and intensity, and his face swung between his smaller clone and the magician crumpling in the chair.
Zwarte caught an occasional DARK MAGICIAN in the taller master's tirade, and he could feel a frantic edge creeping in - a sense of desperation that Zwarte hadn't heard from the Egyptian beyond the confines of the Pharaoh's bedchambers. The smaller one's young anger bubbled viciously at the edge of his mind. What was happening? As the smaller master tried to push the taller boy away, Zwarte's arm was suddenly snapped against his side. It wasn't painful, as he knew pain, but it was uncomfortable, and the intense emotions from his masters' argument were having an effect on him. He felt panicky, but he knew that it was his job to appear strong and unbreakable at all times. His masters relied on that.
His masters. He had thought they were inseparable. How could they be otherwise? They shared the same spirit. At this moment, however, their fight was between two bodies, and that single spirit was being torn asunder. His older master must surely have the advantage, thought Zwarte, but the younger boy was clenching something in his fist, and while the Egyptian wanted it, he was obviously afraid of...
What was it? Zwarte leaned towards them, huge in the humanly dimensioned room, brilliant eyes peering at the object of his masters' argument. Closer still, until he was barely sitting on the chair. And then he saw it. Him. The card crumpled in the younger master's fist. He recoiled, noticing again the odd angles of his limbs, and the creases in his robes. That explained it. But why? Why were they doing this to him? (Obey your Masters).
He shook himself mentally. It was not his place to question his masters' intentions, only to act out their commands in good faith. He served them whole-heartedly. Although he wondered, watching the two figures grapple on the bed, how he could obey if one of them told him to... (Obey your Masters). That didn't bear thinking about.
The fight had escalated again. Zwarte felt a headache coming on, a headache like the one he got whenever they duelled that annoying brat with the hair and glasses. The smaller master was shouting - no, screaming - at his partner, while the Egyptian's voice was getting louder and more desperate. Was he begging? (Obey your Masters). It wasn't Zwarte's job to speculate.
Suddenly, the new master broke free, wriggling out from beneath the taller boy, and clamped his feet into a fighting position, back to the wall, arm stretched in front of him, hand brandishing Zwarte's calling card.
I SUMMON THE DARK MAGICIAN
(Obey your Masters). Zwarte stood, bending his head slightly to fit under the ceiling. His small master was pale and determined, the Egyptian dark and desperate.
DARK MAGICIAN, ATTACK...
(Obey your Masters). Zwarte brought his staff forward and up, channelling his power into the crystal at the top. (Obey your Masters). The desperation in the Egyptian's soul magnified, screaming into Zwarte's senses. Surely the young master wouldn't... (Obey your Masters). Zwarte looked between them, helplessly.
ATTACK MY LIFE-POINTS DIRECTLY!
(Obey your Masters). Zwarte's arm swivelled around, pinning his smaller master to the wall with the end of his staff. He couldn't resist that command. His master must know that, surely. (Obey your Masters).
The pale boy looked at him with huge purple eyes, sad and angry - and ... jealous? It had been so long since Zwarte had encountered that emotion. The Egyptian gave a low cry.
NO.
(Obey your Masters). But who? He hesitated.
DARK MAGIC ATTACK, whispered the boy.
Zwarte helplessly thrust his staff forward, hurting his young master. (Obey). Helpless. He couldn?t - (OBEY YOUR MASTER) - Zwarte closed his eyes, and...
DARK MAGICIAN!
(OBEY)
ATTACK!
He felt the powerful sizzle of his magic charge the crystal. (Obey. Obey). He kept his eyes screwed closed (obey) as he drew his arm back (obey) and released the bolt of -
NO!
Zwarte's eyes flew open. He couldn?t stop for his Egyptian, as much as he wanted to. He was bound to serve (obey) the one who summoned him - the master with the card.
NO! YAMI! STOP ATTACK!
But is was not the dark who had screamed. The old master had reappeared, standing half in front of the paler boy, and half inside him. Superimposed, prepared to take the full blast of Zwarte's power. It had been the other master's voice. The boy who, after seeing the staff averted, crumpled on the floor and sobbed into his hands, mumbling something over and over.
Zwarte caught the Egyptian's eyes for a long moment, blue fire trying to convey some meaning to the red, trying to burn through the inconveniences of spoken language, trying to demonstrate an understanding of the frustrations caused by being caught in someone else's world. Zwarte thought, maybe, that the Pharaoh finally understood the desperate need to cling to something cherished, to protect it above all else, to swear an oath...
As he felt himself fade from the physical world - or rather, he sensed the physical world disintegrate around him - he watched the Egyptian turn and gather his small counterpart into a strong hug, holding tightly, rocking back and forward, whispering kisses into the outrageous hairstyle they shared. Zwarte examined his reaction to the tableau, curious to see if he felt any ... jealousy. He didn't.
Before they disappeared completely, Zwarte reached out a hand, a blessing. He hoped he would never have to sit in one of their tiny chairs again.