A/N: Whee! My first YGO! fic. My sister has had some great success in this area, so I thought, 'Why not give it a go?'
This one's based around one of my favourite characters in the anime. It'll be easy to guess who once you've read about two lines, heehee. Others might come into it, I'm not sure yet.
Please tell me what you think! On with the fic! Please R&R and enjoy!
Note: The name for this wasn't actually picked until I had part 9 done, heehee. A great friend of mine, Jon, suggested it, so thanks Jonathan!
Note2: Reuploaded coz Fanfiction doesn't let the little stars be used, so the whole chapter was a bit confusing with no separation marks. That's fixed now! On we go!
"This is talking." 'This is thought.'
Golden Sands
Part One
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A cloaked figure dove down an alleyway and immediately pressed his bulk against the cool stonewall. His breathing was laboured after the chase, and it wasn't over yet. Light silver locks stuck to his sweaty brow and he wiped his face with a tanned hand. His other hand clasped a bag tightly, holding the treasure he'd just risked his life for. He held his breath as a band of soldiers ran past, the leader of the group yelling commands to the others.
Once they'd passed the man, in his late twenties, released his breath in a long sigh. He mumbled a few curses at himself and started to sneak down the alley. 'How could I have made such an amateur mistake!' his mind yelled as he slipped from one shadow to the next. His mistake had been getting to cocky when he'd gotten into the palace. He'd gotten what he'd wanted, but thinking it was so easy, he had headed off to find more. 'I should have known it was a trap,' he thought and narrowed his chestnut-brown eyes. As soon as he'd left the room where the golden goblet had been, which now lay in the bag he held, around twenty soldiers ambushed him. He'd managed to escape, but not unharmed.
He paused in the dark to touch a deep gash on his right arm. He winched on contact and took his hand away, looking at the warm blood on his fingers. 'Just what I need, more scars.' The sound of footsteps snapped him back and he ducked behind a water barrel. The shadow of a man stepped around the house and held up a lantern.
"Nothing here, Sir," the man yelled. His voice showed him as a young man, maybe in his twenties. 'Typical young soldiers, all they do is look down the alley, they never look close enough,' the thief thought, and this time, was grateful for the mistakes the soldiers were making. He was injured and too tired to run much further.
He stayed in that place for over half an hour. Soldiers had come back a few more times, each time looking harder down the alley. 'Better move, they're getting too close,' he thought and stood up when all was quiet. He removed his sandals, so as to make less noise, and started to run. Another ten minutes passed and the cloaked man stopped outside a door. Eyes darting around, he assessed his situation. 'Doesn't look like I was followed.' He nodded to himself and pushed open the door. He went in and shut it, locking it tight and putting a thick wooden beam across the door for defensive purposes.
He crossed the room and dropped onto his bed; a wooden frame with a cloth spread over some straw for a mattress. He closed his eyes and lay there for a while, catching his breath. Once slightly rested he rose again and opened his bag. A grin spread over his lips as he removed the jewel encrusted golden goblet. The moonlight coming from a small window hit the jewels and made them shine brightly. 'It was worth it,' he thought as he admired his prize. He crossed to the far wall and opened a large chest. Inside laid numerous objects, all shining, all priceless, all stolen. The goblet was placed on the top and he shut the chest.
'Next task,' he thought and rooted around the single room house for some bandages. He got a bowl of water, a cloth and the bandages and settled down to clean up his arm. Just as he tied a knot, a loud banging sounded on the door and voices yelled from outside.
"Bakura! We know you're in there! Give it up!" came a voice and Bakura growled. Leaping to his feet, he looked around for a way out. The only other chance of escape was the window, and there was no way he would fit through it. A flaming torch was thrown through the window, which was just an open hole in the wall, covered by a small animal skin to keep out some of the drafts. It landed on the bed and the dry straw ignited straight away.
Bakura's eyes widened and he tried to put it out. He heard that same voice outside again calling, "If you won't come out easy, we'll burn you out!"
"I guessed that already you moron," Bakura hissed and abandoned the bed, the flames now too far gone to stop. The flames licked the walls and the wooden shelves caught fire. Thick black smoke filled the room and Bakura was thrown into a fierce coughing fit, the smoke filling his lungs. "No! It can't end like this!" he growled and he attacked the flames again, using the little water he had in a fatal attempt to put them out.
Mere moments later everything flammable in the room burned. Bakura stood in the middle of the room, coughing uncontrollably. His eyes burned and tears ran down his cheeks from the smoke. He began to sway from side to side and then all he knew was darkness.
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A teen the age of nineteen sat in a large room, looking anxious. He was adorned in a light white tunic, tied at the waist with a sash, spun with gold threads, and a blue cloak was pinned to his shoulders with gold pins. A gold crown rested on his head, half hidden by his strangely coloured hair and looped slightly around his ears to keep it in place. His hair was black and a deep pink, almost red, colour and he had blond at the front and running back through his hair, like lightning. His jewellery consisted of bangles around his wrists, armlets around the upper part of his arm, a long earring in each ear, and a couple of rings on his left hand. Finally, a gold shaped pyramid hung around his neck. The Millennium Puzzle. He tapped one of his sandaled feet.
The pharaoh tapped his fingers on the arm of his throne. It was now early morning and he was watching the sun rising over the hills beyond the opened doors. He was waiting to hear news of how the plan had worked. They'd placed one of the rarest pieces of gold they had on display in hopes that Bakura, known as the King of Thieves, would attempt to steal it. It was a huge risk for the pharaoh to take, as if this plan didn't work, there would be war over the lost piece, literally. The goblet was known to have magical properties, which, in the wrong hands, could spell disaster.
'I knew we shouldn't have done this,' he thought and sighed. He rubbed his temples and closed his eyes. "We should have heard something by now," he muttered.
"Don't stress, my pharaoh," a young boy spoke up. He looked like the pharaoh in some aspects, their hair was almost the same save this boy's blond didn't run back through his hair but was only at the front, but they had different mothers. The old pharaoh had married twice and each wife had born a son, the current pharaoh, Yami, and the younger boy, Yugi. Yugi worked for the pharaoh rather than being trained to become a future pharaoh himself if anything happened to Yami. Even though their father was the same, Yugi's mother was banished from the kingdom after murdering their father. Yugi was only a baby then, and Yami a young boy, so mercy was taken on Yugi. Yami had pleaded with the councils to allow Yugi to live, seeing as he was to be drowned in the nearby river, and they had finally agreed, but he would be a slave. It was better than death, and Yugi was treated well.
Yami opened his violet eyes and looked into the similar coloured eyes of his half brother. "Oh?"
Yugi nodded. "News will come soon, I assure you," he said and smiled brightly. Yami couldn't help but smile back. Yugi was always able to cheer everyone up. He was like a pillar to a lot of people, always there and standing strong.
"All right, I'll stop fretting for the moment," the pharaoh said and relaxed on his throne. Yugi waved a large fan to cool him down. This was one of the easier jobs for the slaves, and that was why Yugi was the one to have that job most of the time. Sometimes the young boy, who was currently twelve, would help others by letting them have the job while he toiled outside in the hot sun. Yami didn't like when he did that. He always felt more alone without Yugi to talk to.
Yami let out a relaxed sigh and closed his eyes. They opened again when he heard footsteps echoing through the room. He sat up and looked down at the solider that came in and bowed to the pharaoh, on his knees, nose to the floor.
"What news do you bring?" Yami commanded. He could feel his heart thumping hard and he was shaking with anticipation inside, but showed nothing but a calm exterior. The soldier stood up and bowed his head again before answering.
"Pharaoh Yami, we have captured Bakura and retrieved the goblet, as well as many more objects stolen by this man. The plan worked."
Yami relaxed in an instant and sighed with great relief. "That's good work. His sentence will be delivered to him in person at noon. Keep a close eye on him."
"As you wish, my pharaoh." The soldier bowed to the floor again before turning and leaving.
"See? Told ya," Yugi whispered and grinned when the man had left.
Yami smiled and waved a finger at Yugi. "Now, now. You know better than to speak to me like that, little Yugi." Yugi's bottom lip jutted out a little in a pout when Yami called him 'little'. He was short for his age, and he knew it. It was because of his premature birth that his growth had been stunted. Yami laughed and shook his head. "Don't look at me like that!"
Yugi's eyes watered lightly and his lip quivered. Yami frowned and rolled his eyes. "All right! You win!" Yugi brightened up suddenly and smirked.
"Ha! The great pharaoh loses to a slave!"
"Watch it."
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Bakura groaned and opened his eyes slowly. He blinked rapidly to clear his blurred vision and when he could see properly, he could see that he was in a cell. His arms we chained over his head and together at the wrists. His ankles bore two more shackles, which were chained together too, but with a little chain so that he could walk. There was also a shackle around his neck like a collar and it was chained to the wall behind him. He smirked. 'They must know what a threat I am,' he thought proudly. He looked up to look around the cell more. It was a small, square, cold cell with one wooden door at the far wall with a small window, barred of course. He noticed a guard looking in and smirked. Even chained he looked intimidating. He had a very large and strong build, but even with this build he was mostly known for his speed and agility, which usually wasn't linked with a bulky build. His dark tunic was stained with some of his blood, from his arm, and now from the smoke also.
He coughed a few times, his lungs still irrigated from the smoke he'd inhaled. He shook his head and looked up to the door. 'Stupid guards,' he thought and sighed, resting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. He shifted his position a little, trying to get a little more comfortable, which wasn't easy when you were chained to a cold stonewall so you couldn't stand. He rolled his head and cracked his neck, which had gotten stiff from hanging down against his chest while he was out cold. He clenched and unclenched his hands in fists, trying to get some blood back into his arms.
He spent the next while trying to get up but with no luck. An hour later he looked to the door as he heard a few new voices. One he knew as the man that had been yelling outside of his house. The lock was opened and the door pushed in. A strong man appeared and scowled down at Bakura, then smirked.
"So, you finally woke up. About time."
"Now that's no way to treat special people," Bakura said and grinned as the soldier's grin dropped to a frown. His head snapped to one side as he received a hard blow across the face.
"There's nothing special about you, you scum!" the man yelled, his fist rose to strike again. He stopped when Bakura looked back up at him with a proud grin. He cursed mentally, now realising that Bakura was only trying to get him worked up, which he had done.
"Me, one. Twats, zero," Bakura said and laughed, a cold, evil laugh. The soldier growled and lowered his fists.
"You'll be given your sentence at noon, so enjoy yourself as much as you can for the next three hours." He turned to leave and heard Bakura say, "Oh, but I intend to." Bakura's voice sent shivers up the soldier's spine and he slammed the door shut. "I hope you rot in hell," he muttered and left.
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"Bring out the prisoner!"
Bakura was dragged out of the dungeon. He tripped on the chains around his ankles but steadied himself and walked tall. He was led to a platform high above the sands below. The sun was at its hottest now and he now only had his tunic tied around his waist, letting the sun hit his exposed torso, legs and head, but he was used to it.
Ahead stood the pharaoh, standing under a large palm leaf, held by Yugi. Bakura grinned and chuckled.
"My, my. Is this audience all for me?" he asked, looking down at the crowds that had turned up to hear his sentence. "And the pharaoh was dragged out too? Why, I'm honoured." He laughed aloud, even more so when he saw Yugi cower back. Bakura had long gotten to the fact that he was more than likely done for, unless he got away, so was able to take all of this calmly.
"You won't be laughing for much longer, thief," Yami said in a cold tone. Bakura was forced to his knees and Yami stared down at him. "Bakura, your sentence for all your treason, is death!"
"Ohh what a surprise," Bakura muttered and looked over as the executioner came out, black cloth covering his face, a double bladed axe in hand.
"Prepare to meet your maker." Yami's tone was as cold as ever and Bakura looked up and glared at him.
"I don't think so."
To be continued....
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Slán slán!
Ashla
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