When the two brothers trailed into their dank cave, a slumped, grunting Malik between them. Itja had been understandably furious. Itja being infuriated was as normal as breathing air. Sure, he could put on a mask of stoicism, but the second something didn't go his way, he was never too pleased about it. He lived arrogance that could match Bakura's, the only difference being he had actual skill, while Bakura just gracefully fumbled around.

Ryou sighed heavily as he listened to the pair. They were in a heated argument, Bakura indignantly defending his "brilliant plan" while Itja berated him, each word laced with insults.

"It was such a stupid thing to do! You're lucky only the stupid guards were out, or you and your brother would probably be hanging by your toes over a crocodile pit!" Itja was barking.

"You didn't tell us how to get him out of the fucking city! There weren't many options!" Bakura snarled back. He looked pathetic arguing with Itja, who was broad and mighty, his face hardened by years of what Ryou could tell was torment (though that was never verified, since his master was such a private person). He towered over Bakura, who was as scrawny and pale as ever, merely a ghost in comparison.

Puberty had yet to set in, so he was short and he still held a bit of his baby fat. His voice cracked a bit and his eyes blazed, though not with the same malice and rage that were seeded into Itja's harsh gaze.

As the two went at it, Ryou pushed himself to his feet. He had already gotten his share of Itja's barbed tongue, so he figured he might as well make himself useful.

Malik had been stirring for a while now, though it seemed consciousness was coming slow. He groaned, the noises of pain and discomfort going unheard by the quarreling pair, so Ryou took it upon himself to walk over to him with steady feet.

Itja had hammered a stake into the stone wall, which was used to hold Malik in place. He was bound at the hands still, his wrists seeming rather scrawny as they hung limply from ropes knotted through the stake. His ankles were still bound too, though the gag had been removed. Itja wanted him information, after all.

Ryou settled down in front of the other boy, going unnoticed by his two companions, and put the back of his hand to his forehead. It felt to be a normal temperature, though he wasn't sure he was expecting different. It wasn't as if he would have gotten a fever, but Ryou wanted to feel useful in some way.

The touch roused Malik further and two exotic eyes blinked open. They were unfocused and confused as they darted sluggishly around, finally landing on Ryou. He felt a little self-conscious and wary of the gaze, so he shuffled back, as if Malik could somehow hurt him.

"Wh…?" The word fumbled from Malik's chapped lips and he rose his head further, until his whole face was directed to Ryou. "Where… am I?" He asked, though the question seemed mostly to himself as he peered around the dark cave.

Suddenly, in a spark of realization, his eyes shot wide and he pulled harshly at the ropes. Ryou looked startled as the boy began kicking his bound feet and writhing his body.

"What is this?!" He yelled, his muscles straining as he yanked at the stake, though it didn't budge.

The sudden loud noises drew the attention of Itja and Bakura. Itja raced over, pushing Ryou back and away from Malik's flailing limbs.

"You can struggle all you want, you're not getting out." Itja growled, stomping his foot down in one of Malik's writhing legs.

"Bastard–who the hell are you?!" Malik screamed.

"That is none of your concern. The only thing that matters here is information."

But he wasn't listening. He just pulled and yanked, his whole body struggling and writhing. Itja frowned, obviously not very amused with Malik's rebellious behavior. Suddenly, he stomped his feet, kicking Malik hard in the chest. The boy yelled out and began coughing, though he was barely given a break as Itja did it a second time.

Ryou was shocked by the sudden display of malice. He jumped up and turned to Itja. "Stop! He's already hurt enough!"

He looked around at him and narrowed his dull gray eyes. Ryou never rose his voice at his master and trainer, but he refused to witness such cruelty. It was bad enough he had to partake in practically dragging his body across the desert after kidnapping him.

"Ryou, why do you always show such kindness to even the vilest of people?"

"You don't know him. You don't know what he does." Ryou offered boldly. "Let me help him. He has a few wounds from Bakura's rough treatment."

Bakura gawked at his brother. "Heal the enemy? Ryou, the sun has finally fried your brain," he growled.

The youth bristled. "I just don't see the point in torturing him…" he mumbled, starting to feel unheard. Itja and Bakura never listened to him. He was never taken seriously. He might as well have been a toddler crying about a scrapped elbow.

"Ryou. You show too much mercy. It will be your downfall one day." Itja murmured, his voice a bit distant. Ryou was surprised to see him moving away from Malik, who was still coughing. "You have a half an hour." He said flatly.

"W-what! Damn it!" Bakura snarled. "You're going to let him tend to the enemy's wounds?"

"I don't want to hear any fucking arguing. Now make yourself useful and go feed Ma'at and clean up his shit."

"That's Ryou's job!"

"Go!"

Itja's voice practically bellowed throughout the cave, making Bakura flinch at the might of his command. He growled and stormed out, followed shortly by Itja.

Ryou was left alone in the cave with Malik. He felt uneasy, being in a space with just a stranger. Granted, the stranger was injured and tied up, posing absolutely no threat, but he never found himself in such a situation without his brother. His sharp-tongued, loyal, protective brother…

He sighed and went to get a few healing supplies. Itja had a habit of using beer and then throwing a piece of dirty clothing over a wound, but Ryou prompted him to gather better healing supplies from the homes of healers. It wasn't much except for salves and bandages, but steadily Ryou was learning how to properly use them.

Honey was good for cuts and open wounds, and combined with milk or wine made it even more effective. Coriander was good for pain relief, which his hectic, makeshift family needed quite often. Itja and Bakura were stubborn in not showing their pain, but Ryou always knew. They never said anything when he slipped the seeds in their food. He smiled fondly to himself.

After filling a small basin with some water from the natural pool, he went to Malik and settled down next to him.

Malik seemed to have recovered from his couching fit. He was staring ahead with a blank expression, until Ryou moved to clean up a cut under his eye. Malik snapped his head away and glared. "Don't touch me."

Ryou shrank away a bit, though the sudden hostility was to be expected.

"Wait… I know you. Yeah. You were in my mother's tomb…" Malik narrowed his eyes. "I knew there was something off about you two. Nobody just shelters in a tomb from the cold."

Ryou looked down. "I-I'm sorry…"

Malik sneered. "Why the hell am I here? Last thing I remember is that–that guy, Bakura, suddenly jumping into my room at the inn. And now, I wake up in some cave?!" His voice became shrill and he began to squirm again.

"P-please don't move around! I'm worried my brother might have hurt you…"

"Please. Your brother is a fucking wimp. He can't hurt me." Malik replied flatly. He looked to Ryou again, his eyes blazing with anger. "Why the hell am I here? That guy mentioned what? Information? What information?!"

"Ah... I'm not sure if I'm allowed to ask you about it." Ryou replied. "Please, I don't want to hurt you. I was against capturing you in the first place. But I have to follow my brother and Itja."

Malik just scoffed. Wordlessly and sheepishly, Ryou moved to clean up his cuts again. His whole body tensed, which made Ryou pause tentatively. He couldn't be sure why Malik was tensing, whether it was out of pain, fear, or reflex. Any would make sense, given his current situation. He felt for Malik, he really did, and he wished this whole thing didn't have to turn out so messy.

"I won't hurt you." Ryou chose to say.

Malik just let out a soft scoff and chose not to respond intelligibly, which Ryou could respect. He moved to treat his wounds once more, this time ignoring the reaction.

He smeared some poultice on the larger cuts, making Malik hiss. Ryou smiled sympathetically – the mixture was just a bit of honey, and thyme, to keep away infection and help with the pain, but he knew it could bring a few moments of discomfort to open flesh.

"I'm sure if you just answer my teacher's questions when he gets back, he'll let you go." Ryou offered hopefully.

"I don't even know what questions he wants answered."

"He'll be back soon to ask." Ryou settled down next to Malik.

"…You're very civil in comparison to both of them." He suddenly commented, gazing at Ryou curiously. "Why are you helping me like this?"

"I don't see the point in making you suffer or bringing you pain." Ryou replied. "I wasn't very enthusiastic about dragging you out here, but my teacher told me to, and so I did."

"Do you just listen to everything he tells you?"

"Of course."

Malik scoffed and looked away. Ryou furrowed his brows, but then he sighed.

"Maybe I can get them to at least untie you." He offered. "Surely being like that can't be comfortable."

"That would make it easy to get away, and I doubt that guy would allow it." Malik grunted, shifting his wrists in the bounds. "But you're right, this is very uncomfortable. Not that it matters."

"Why wouldn't it matter?"

"I'm a prisoner to you people. Comfort doesn't matter."

"You're still a person who can feel pain. There's no reason for you to suffer."

Malik was quiet for a long moment as he gazed curiously at Ryou, before he said, "…You're weird."

Ryou blinked then huffed. "Am not! How am I weird?"

Malik shook his head and looked away, though Ryou didn't fail to notice the slightly amused look on his face. Ryou still looked indignant, so he gathered his supplies and marched away to hit mat, which was only a few feet away, but any distance was good enough.

He laid there until he heard the faint footfall of Itja, so he rose off his mat and rubbed his eyes.

"Alright. You're going to answer my questions now, Priest." Itja was saying to Malik as he towered over the bound boy.

"I'm not a priest yet. I still have more training." Malik huffed back, his spirit blazing as hot as ever.

"I don't care. Now tell me, what city are you from?"

"Untie me and maybe I'll tell you."

Itja growled under his breath. "Annoying brat… you're in no position to be bargaining." He warned dangerously, his voice making Ryou shiver a little in fright. He got up and padded over to Itja's side.

"If you want this 'information' I possess, then you bet your ass we're going to bargain. I don't want to be tied up." Malik demanded.

Frightened for Malik's well-being, Ryou suggested in a low voice, "Maybe we should release him…"

"Ryou, you're being far too soft again. It's bad enough that I let you tend to his wounds." Itja grunted with irritation. "Just remain silent."

He stooped down to Malik's level, his chromic eyes burning with intensity. "If you answer all of my questions, I will untie you. All I want is information.

Malik gazed at him distrustfully and replied very slowly with, "…What information?"

Itja looked satisfied. "Do you come from Thebes?"

"…Yes."

"You're a priest in training in the city of Thebes, then?"

Malik nodded.

"You work in the temple, yes? And I imagine you get to go to the palace quite often as well."

"…I've been in there quite a few times, yes."

"This means… you've seen Pharaoh Atem?"

Malik visibly tensed. "Perhaps I have seen him."

"Answer yes or no, boy."

"Why do you want to know if I've seen the Pharaoh? Why does it matter?"

"None of your concern. Have you seen him?"

Malik seemed to almost shrink under the harsh gaze the King of Thieves was giving him, so he answered with, "Yes. I've seen him before. My father is the head priest in Thebes. I sometimes go along with him when he goes to the Palace to speak with Pharaoh Atem."

Ryou's eyes widened. To see the Pharaoh, to be in such close quarters with him was considered to be an incredible honor for most citizens, though Malik almost spoke with… hostility. Venom dripped on the edge of his tone, making the back of the hairs on Ryou's neck stand.

"How recently did you see him?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

A very slight smirk pulled at Itja's lips. It looked almost dangerous.

"That's all for now." He replied before he stood up straight and left the small cave once again.

Malik stared after him, confused, before he started writhing. "H-hey! Wait! You were supposed to untie me!"

But Itja was gone, leaving Ryou to give Malik a look of sympathy. He kneeled on his knees next to the bound boy, who gave him an angry look.

"What?"

"You've really seen the Pharaoh? The real Pharaoh Atem?"

"I told you friend I did, yes." Malik replied flatly. He obviously wasn't amused at the fact he was still tied up despite the bargain he had made with Itja. "Why? Why in the hell does it matter?"

"What's he like?" Ryou asked, ignoring all of Malik's hostility. "I've only heard about him, from what I hear on the streets and what my teacher tells me. I want to know more about him, though."

"He's… glorious and mighty in every way, and Egypt is blessed to have a ruler such as him."

His words sounded hollow to Ryou. Memorized, recited, spoken time and time again, which brought Ryou disappointment. He was genuinely curious what the Pharaoh was like, since Itja only spoke ill of him. Despite the harsh lessons he had learned over the years, from soldiers chasing him down to nobles killing innocents, he still wanted to believe the best in people.

Ryou must have visibly deflated, because Malik gave him a look of pity. "What? Were you expecting another answer?" He asked.

Ryou knew speaking badly of the Pharaoh was treason. He bit his lip. "My teacher always tells me bad things about Pharaoh Atem. I've been curious to know what he's actually like."

Malik sighed and leaned his head against the cave wall. "It doesn't really matter what he's like. What matters is that he's been chosen by the Gods, and the Gods know best." Malik looked to Ryou again. "But you know that already."

He sighed and nodded. "Of course... I'm sorry."

Malik growled a little under his breath. "It doesn't matter what the Pharaoh does… no matter if he's a bad person, if he's cruel, if he isn't intelligent in the slightest."

Ryou flinched. Malik was beginning to sound like Bakura and Itja. "You know you shouldn't say things like that," he sighed. "You could get into trouble."

"With who? You?" Malik growled. "Let me tell you something. The glorious Pharaoh has forced my family to be lying, cheating, fucking priests. Pharaoh Atem is a snot-nosed brat, barely older than you. And yet he rules over the entirety of Egypt. He has no idea what he's doing–my father always has to give him advice and tell him how basic politics work. You'd think as the God-chosen ruler of an entire country, he would have his head out of his ass!"

Malik was panting by the end of the rant. Obviously, he had quite a few qualms regarding Pharaoh Atem. His anger almost scared Ryou, and if he wasn't used to such bitter talk towards Egypt's Ruler, he would have been shocked, to say the least.

"I don't care. Go ahead, turn me in. I'll be tried for treason, but I don't care anymore. I hate learning how to be a priest. There are so many rules, so much reading and worship, it's maddening." Malik growled, turning his head away again.

Ryou gazed at him and remained quiet for a long moment before he looked down and murmured, "…Why would I turn you in for something I'm told all the time?" He asked. "My teacher speaks ill of nobility and royalty quite often. He steals from tombs and draws profanity of the Pharaoh on walls. I was just curious if you had anything else to say on the matter… but I guess not."

"…You don't sound like you agree with him."

"Oh, I do." Ryou replied, rubbing his arm anxiously. "He's taken me to executions before. He's told me some of the terrible things wealthy people and royalty do… but as far as I know, it's all observation. My teacher is a mysterious man, but I don't know how close he's actually gotten to these people. How does he know they're all bad? And how does he know Pharaoh Atem is bad?"

"I don't know. But I do know Pharaoh Atem is a fool. He's young and arrogant. He wants to spread the borders and reclaim the lands we once had, but he hasn't dedicated enough resources or manpower to fuel the army to do it. He's going to send thousands to their deaths just for an attempt for glory."

"…Why haven't I heard about this?"

"He's only discussed it with my father and a few high council members, but it's an example of his stupidity." Malik spat. "He has no idea what he's doing. Not only he, but all the past Pharaohs. My family's destiny is to be seated at the foot of the Pharaoh for the next millennial. What sort of fate is that?"

"But priests are powerful, aren't they?"

"Not in the eyes of arrogant rulers such as Atem. He does not value my father's words. He treats the Ishtar family lower than dirt. The whole line of Pharaohs have for as long as the Ishtar name has existed." He growled lowly. "I didn't want to be part of it, but I was forced. I go to lessons each and every day. I pray to the Gods relentlessly. I bless the dead. It's not something to have pride in; I hate it, and yet my father is proud. My father thinks the Ishtar family has been fortunate. His head is full of clouds."

Ryou sighed. He tried to have sympathy for Malik. "Why don't you just... leave?"

"That would be a disgrace to the Ishtar name. I would have betrayed my whole family in doing so." Malik replied before he sighed. "At this point, I wouldn't care. My siblings don't give a damn about me anyway." He added sourly.

Ryou blinked, recalling that he had heard him speaking with those two in the inn. They had been his brother and sister. He remembered their words, harsh as they were, they only had Malik's best interest at heart…

…But it wasn't his place to assume that. He had no idea what their family dynamic was like, but from the sounds of it, it was suffocating. He had spent his life relatively free. Even as a child, he was carefree, playing in the canal with his brother and sister, and enjoying warm bread next to his mother in the evening. In recent years, his life was hectic, but he was still free. He had no real obligations tethering him to one place. He had his beloved brother and their teacher, and that's all he ever needed.

"…I'm sorry." He finally muttered.

"Don't be. I don't like pity." Malik replied sharply.

"But I still am sorry. I'm free. Bakura is my only family. I don't have my future set out in front of me. I have no idea what will happen. The uncertainty is… scary, but I think I would rather want the freedom to decide my path rather than have it all planned." Ryou admitted. "As long as I have my brother, I'll be okay."

"…You care a lot about your brother." Malik observed after a moment of quiet. "He seems like he's quite mean to you."

"He means well." Ryou replied with a small smile. "I care a lot about him, and I know he cares about me, even if he's short-tempered. He's the one that's protected me since we were very young."

"I suppose you two are twins?"

Ryou nodded. "And he's a few minutes older. He pretends like he's several years older, though." He chuckled.

"Superiority complex, eh?" Malik asked before he let out a small laugh. It made Ryou smile. It seemed Malik was in a bit of a better mood now.

"Hey. I'll go find Itja and ask if you can be untied." Ryou suggested as he suddenly stood up. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." He added with a chuckle before he raced out of the cave.

He was in a good mood as well. Even if their choice of topic had been on the heavy side, he felt better. He never spoke to anyone outside his small, dysfunctional family, and he found it to be refreshing.

He found Itja perched on a rock, running a sharpening stone along his dagger. He didn't look up as Ryou approached, but Ryou knew he was aware of his presence, he always did. However, before Ryou could say anything, a toothy grin pulled at his lips.

"Did you hear, Ryou?" he asked, scraping the stone harshly against his dagger. "Malik knows exactly how to get to Pharaoh Atem."

"O-oh. Yeah, he does." Ryou replied hesitantly. Itja's tone made him a little nervous. "Um… I was wondering–"

"Finally, my plan is going to come into play." Itja interrupted, glancing up from his task, his eyes blazing in a way that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

"Your plan…?"

Itja just chuckled darkly and looked back down at his dagger. Ryou was silent for a moment, a little scared to talk, but he spoke up anyway. "Um… can you possibly untie Malik now?"

"We can't afford him running away." Itja replied sharply.

"B-but he won't! I'll keep an eye on him."

"You?" Itja asked with a snort. "Malik is stronger. He could easily overpower you and get away."

"But… he wouldn't even know which way to go. He wasn't conscious when Bakura and I brought him here. He knows he'll die if he goes racing into the desert."

Itja cast a warning glance at him, forcing him to quiet down. He then spoke, "I don't like how merciful you're being. If we didn't need more information out of him, he would be dead by now."

Ryou thickly swallowed. "I… I think he can help more than you think. He… um..."

"Spit it out, boy."

"…He really dislikes the Pharaoh. The whole royal family, actually. His family is forced into serving the Pharaoh, which he resents. He might be able to help more... because you both hate the Pharaoh..." he trailed away, shuffling his feet a bit.

Ryou seemed to have Itja's attention now. He put down the sharpening stone and ran his thumb along the blade. Crimson beaded up from an invisible cut. "Oh?"

Ryou nodded slowly, watching Itja closely.

"Interesting..." he mused as he licked the blood off his finger and stuffed his dagger between his hip and shendi."I've got planning to do." He chuckled as he began walking away.

Ryou blinked after him, confused for a moment. "W-wait! Can I untie Malik?" He called after Itja.

He didn't get an answer.

…

The King of Thieves was in a remarkably good mood, Ryou noticed. That evening, he had caught a feast for all of them. He had hunted down a gazelle, which they were currently roasting bits of the meat over a fire. The sun had set, only a bit of orange lingering on the horizon. He shivered when there was a cold breeze and shuffled closer to the fire.

Itja had allowed Malik to join then. He had been untied, but he was under very close supervision by the thief. He sat near Ryou, staring into the flames with his knees up to his chest. He hadn't said much since his and Ryou's conversation earlier, so he was wondering what could be going through the priest's mind.

Itja pulled the piece of meat away from the fire and passed it to Malik. "Here. Eat."

Malik stared at skewered piece of cooked flesh with distrust, looking as if he would refuse, but he thought the better of it and ripped it from Itja's hand. After a moment, he began eating.

Itja watched him eat with interest. Ryou had come to learn that such a look should be feared, or at least wary of. The way his eyes glinted dangerously, and a lazy smirk hung at the edge of his mouth. Ryou had a hunch of why Itja was particularly interested in the boy; he was obviously in some way useful to his plan.

Itja would sometimes mention this "plan" of this, but never elaborated on the details. Ryou wasn't entirely sure what the plan of him entailed, only that he had been working towards it for as long as the boy had known him. He only vaguely knew it had something to do with the Pharaoh. He wondered if he planned on stealing from the Ruler of Egypt; however, this seemed very reckless, and Ryou wasn't sure what Itja could possibly gain from it.

Ryou glanced to Bakura. He was glaring at Malik, distrust in his harsh gaze. He sighed and took one of the skewered pieces of meat, deciding it was best to lay low and watched how things would play out.

Malik sat notably closer to Ryou, which made him a little wary. He liked Malik, but there was no telling what the man would do. It would be all too easy for Malik to grab him and hold a knife to his throat. That was a bit of an unrealistic thought perhaps. Malik was in some unknown location in the desert, a man twice his size looming only a few feet away. Ryou felt safer knowing Itja was close.

"So… Malik," Itja began, almost nonchalantly, "Tell me, what do you think of Egypt?"

Malik notably tensed more, if that were possible, and narrowed his lavender gaze.

"Does it matter?" He asked distrustfully.

Itja tore a chunk of nearly-raw meat off the partially cooked leg, and as a bit of blood and juice trickled down his chin, he grinned.

"Of course. The opinion of the future right-hand priest of the Pharaoh is very valuable indeed."

Malik scoffed under his breath and glared into the flame.

"What do you want from me?" He suddenly demanded, slamming his fist against the sandy earth in a bout of frustration. "First you tie me up, beat me, then release and feed me. Now you want to know my opinion on Egypt of all things?"

Bakura snickered under his breath, earning a glare from the priest-to-be.

"Don't laugh!" He barked. "I want to know what the hell is going on."

"That," Itja began, taking another voracious bite, "Is none of your concern. However, if you cooperate, maybe I'll let you in on a little secret."

"What kind of secret would I want to know from you of all people?" Malik growled. "I want to go home."

"Do you really?"

Malik paused. His knuckles went bite as he grasped his stick.

"Of course I do." He replied.

"Really? Because I hear that you hate your job."

A pause.

"Am I correct in that deduction? You hate being a priest. You hate how tedious is, how you're disrespected by the man you're supposed to be counseling. How you have to pray and bless, and that's all you'll have for the rest of your life."

While Malik looked furiously into the flames, Itja looked rather confident in his assumption. His grin looked wolfish with the blood staining his lips and chin.

"Go on. Admit it. You don't have to hide it anymore."

"Shut up."

"Say you hate it."

"Stop!"

"Say it!"

"I fucking hate it!" Malik snarled, throwing his half eaten meal on the ground. "I hate it so damn much! Just the thought of having to do this for the rest of my life makes my blood boil. I don't want it! I don't fucking want it! My family doesn't give a damn about what I want, though. They're all expecting me to become the Pharaoh's right-hand priest–I don't fucking want to work with that fucking snot-nosed brat!"

Malik was panting, while Itja looked like he had just come across a river made of gold and silver. Bakura appeared surprised, a rare emotion for him, and even a little taken aback by the angry confession. Ryou felt the need to comfort the other boy. But he kept quiet.

"You would be better off if… the Pharaoh was no longer around, yes?" Itja ventured, undeterred by the long-winded, rage-fueled speech.

"…What are you getting at..?"

"If the Pharaoh died. Wouldn't you be happier?" He asked, his voice almost innocent.

"Of course. But Pharaoh Atem is alive and well. He won't be dying anytime soon." Malik muttered.

"I wouldn't count on it." Itja replied.

Malik looked up, confused, while Itja suddenly got to his feet.

The sky was dark behind his flickering form, the red and orange flames making him glow menacingly. His gaze intensified as he looked around the three of them, and Ryou swore, he looked almost crazed, and yet he was entranced. The next words he spoke sent shivers down his spine.

"Let's kill a God."

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