Aria of the Divine

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! And all related characters therein do not belong to me. They belong to Kazuki Takahashi and no copyright infringement is intended.

Summary: From birth, Marik Ishtar as been bound to fate. As he struggles to forge his own path...to regain a lost power...he becomes entangled in a war between gods, and the Millennium Rod may just have a plan of its own.

Author's Note: A word about the numbering of floors (such as in a house, hotel, etc.) in foreign countries: What we Americans call the "first floor" is known abroad as the "ground floor." Our "second floor" corresponds to their "first floor." E.g.: If you were staying in a hotel in France, if you wanted to get to the second floor, you'd have to select the button for the first. If you wanted the third floor, you'd select the button for the second. If you wanted the lobby, you'd have to select the button for the ground floor. I hope that makes sense.

Review Responses:

OBSESSED Uber Rei Model 07 OMG! Was pretty much my reaction as well when I was finally able to update. As for what will happen to Marik...I'm afraid you'll have to read to find out, but I can tell you that, knowing me, there will most likely be yaoi. I just have to figure out where to put it in!

Expletive deleted Updates make me happy too! I hope this chapter is worth your wait.

Fantasysangel: Am I correct in assuming you got AoD off of the LJ community "Malik Addict"? If so, awesome! Nobody has posted on it for a while, I wasn't sure how active the community was. I'm glad you like the story and I hope you'll keep reading!

8888

Chapter Six "Celesta"

Celesta: a small keyboard that uses hammers to strike metal bars to give a ringing sound.

8888

Marik woke slowly, and he was first aware of a pair of arguing voices. One was flustered and full of irritation, while the other provided calm counterpoints and sounded almost bored. As his conciousness climbed, Marik identified the aloof, disinterested voice to be Harun's, but the other, which was certainly male, was new. Like Harun, he spoke Marik's language, but there was a strange, heavy accent to it, like he was trying to eat at the same time he talked. Marik's stomach churned at the thought of more people, but he kept his eyes closed and pretended to still be asleep.

"It was a severe attack, Sebestyen. What other option did I have? Besides, I didn't even give him a quarter of it."

"I'm breaking enough rules just maing this damned drug for you without having you guess on dosage, Harun! You could have just as easily killed him."

Marik twitched violently, and he could not stop a small cry of surprise leaping from his throat. The argument was ceased immediately, and the stranger named Sebestyen was immediately at Marik's bedside. He pried Marik's eyes open and shined a small flashlight into them, making Marik groan and try to pull away. He soon realized that he was strapped to the bed, rendered nearly immobile. Sebestyen ignored Marik's insistent tugs against the buckles and continued to check his pulse and breathing. Harun watched from several feet away, speaking up only after an unnaturally long puase of Sebestyen's stethoscope against Marik's chest.

"See? He's fine."

"He's lucky, Sebestyen corrected and pinched the skin atop Marik's hand to let it slowly drop back. "And he's hardly fine. He's severely malnourished and dehydrated. I'm going to put him on IV for about half an hour or so. It wil be enough to start him of with. After that, we'll keep him on close watch...gradually reintroduce food into his system."

"And?" Harun pressed, causing Sebestyen to sigh heavily.

"And I'll send out for another shipment of the medicine...after he's healthy again and I've worked out a proper dosage."

Seemingly content with Marik's vitals, Sebestyen walked away and bent over to type something into a laptop.

"I'll start testing for allergies tomorrow, and then I'll order some vaccines. He needs to be immunized immediately, and I would recommend a dentist within the next couple of months. He has cavaties and gingivitis. However, his ears and eyes are good, and his lungs sounded all right. Come here," Sebestyen said as he wheeled an IV stand to Marik's bed. Harun followed and waited patiently as the doctor prepared the catheter and vein on the underside of Marik's right arm. As he inserted the needle, Marik winced at the sharp sting, but the pain was quickly gone.

"Stay here and make sure he doesn't try to dislodge the catheter. The straps should hold him, and I'll put it on slow drip to make it a little more comfortable, but don't let him struggle too much. This will take around half an hour, so I'll run to the hospital and see if I can get some of the influenza vaccines...he's too high risk to let it wait. I'll be back by the time the bag runs out," Sebestyen said and gathered up his laptop and bag. Harun nodded and sat down in a chair near Marik's head.

"I'll be here," Harun assured. Sebestyen gave a slight bow of acknowledgement and strode out the door. After he was gone, Harun turned his attention back to Marik, who was eyeing him back warily.

"Let me guess," Harun said as he steepled his fingers and settled into his seat. "You were never a healthy child. You have frequently had sleepless nights, you get dizzy and were never allowed to play for very long, otherwise you would run out of breath and collapse from exhaustion. And this is certainly not the first time you have fainted from severe chest pain."

Marik's eyes widened with each statement Harun so calmly made, and he felt the color drain from his face.

"How"

"Mitral Valve Prolapse, also known as Barlow's Syndrome, with Dysautonomia. You, young Ishtar, have a heart condition. But don't worry, it's not life-threatening...just uncomfortable when it decides to act up. And believe me when I say I know how it feels. I have it too."

"Who—who are you?" Marik questioned, the words sounding odd in his suddenly dry mouth.

"Right now, I'm the only friend you have," Harun answered and got up from his chair. He walked to the foot of Marik's bed and leaned against the frame of a large window that overlooked the outer edge of the Cairo metropolis. The morning sun was clear of the horizon, and it created bright patches of light on the floor and sea-foam walls. The room was an odd mix of a doctor's office and a library, with medical books littering the shelves and countertops. It all seemed thrown together with little consideration for design or for it to serve just one purpose. Harun hated it, and even with Marik to divert his focus, his posture remained stiff and uncomfortable.

Harun stood at the window for a long time...the sun was notably higher in the sky before he spoke again. "I promise not to hurt you, Ishtar, and I certainly will not be returning you to your family."

"But why?" Marik cried out, his voice edging into desperation. "Why would you help me? How do you even know who I am?"

Harun twisted slightly to look over his shoulder at Marik, and the angle of sunlight caught his hair to create a hazy, golden halo around his head. His expression was a mix of sadness and resignation—the look of one who had lost any hope of redemption.

"That tattoo on your back speaks volumes," Harun answered. "As does that rather unique language you use. You were actually quite easy to recognize."

Marik let out a choked sob and let his head drop back to the bed to stare at the plain, eggshell colored ceiling.

"Suez," he whispered in what he was quickly suspecting to be a useless hope.

"What?" Harun asked, and he moved away from the window to crouch near Marik's head.

"Please tell me this is at least Suez."

Whatever Harun had expected Marik to say, it had not been that, and he blinked in surprise before he quickly schooled his feature again.

"I'm not sure how you ended up here if you were trying to get to Suez, Ishtar, but you're in Cairo. Suez is one hundred and twenty kilometers east of here...it takes several hours just to drive there."

Marik closed his eyes tightly, and he turned his head away under the crushing realization that he had gone the wrong way.

"Whoever told you to go to Suez must have wanted to try and get you out by boat," Harun said thoughtfully. When Marik refused to face him, Harun smiled gently and raised his hand to tilt the boy's face back towards him. Harun held him there by laying a palm against Marik's cheek and massaging small circles into his temple.

"I know you aren't exactly inclined to trust anyone, but I promise you're safe with me."

"I've done...bad things," Marik whispered back.

"I'd be amazed if you hadn't," Harun replied. He tried to smile, but it was more a restrained grimace, as though touching Marik pained him. He slowly drew his hand away, his fingertips grazing Marik's cheekbones as sweat lined his palm.

"Promise me you'll be still, Ishtar. I need to step outside for a moment," Harun said and stood up, swaying slightly with loss of balance.

"All right," Marik agreed. Harun was almost out when Marik's voice stopped him. "Marik," he said. "My name is Marik."

The corner of Harun's lips twitched upwards, and he nodded before quickly exiting the room. Once the door clicked shut behind him, Harun collapsed to his knees, and his arms crossed over his chest as he clutched at his shoulders. Rivulets of sweat lined his brow, and his body shuddered under gasping breaths. Harun could barely hear the rushed footsteps and concerned voice of his doctor.

"Harun! Is it your heart too?" Sebestyen questioned, and he automatically reached for the emergency syringe he kept in his coat. Sebestyen reached for the other man, but Harun flinched violently and pulled away to press against the wall.

"No! It...it's not..."

"This happened two nights ago...will you at least let me"

"No, don't touch me! Don't touch...it's better...to just let it be. It...it will go away," Harun said, and he doubled over so that his chest was pressed along the length of his thighs. "Just...go help Marik...he needs you."

Sebestyen hesitated, but when Harun pulled away from him for a second time, the doctor stood and left Harun in the hallway.

"Where's Harun?" Marik asked as he saw Sebestyen enter the room.

"He went back downstairs," Sebestyen answered and reached up to check the IV fluid. "He wasn't feeling well."

"Oh...your name is Sebestyen, right?"

"Yes, it is."

"How do you know what I'm saying?"

Sebestyen unbuckled the straps and helped Marik up into a sitting position while he removed the catheter and placed a piece of gauze over the tiny wound.

"Harun taught me the language. Now bend your arm back and hold it there."

"Everyone else I've talked to...they...why does everyone else speak differently? How does Harun know?"

"That's for him to tell you," Sebestyen answered and pulled a small container off a nearby shelf. "All right, that's good. You can stretch your arm out again."

Marik did as he was told and Sebestyen replaced the gauze with a bright orange band-aid. Blinking at the color, Marik immediately reached down and began to pick at it.

"Leave the bandage alone. I don't want to have to worry about you getting an infection on top of everything else. Do you think you're feeling well enough to walk?"

"Yes."

"Then come with me," Sebestyen said and helped Marik down off the table, making sure to keep his support of the boy's balance firm. Marik staggered, but the doctor held his hand and took small, slow steps. Sebestyen stopped at the door, and he opened it almost warily, but Marik had barely the time to consider the pause before the older man led him out into the now-empty hallway.

"Harun tells me your name is Marik," Sebestyen said.

"Mm hmm," Marik hummed, keeping his gaze trained down at the mahoghany wood flooring.

"Well, Marik, let me start by explaining where you are. This house belongs to Harun—only he and a few hired help live here, though I stay occasionally. Right now we're on the second floor...your room, along with Harun's, is on the first. The ground floor has the dining room, conference room, and library. Harun picked out your room while he was bringing you back here...I can't say I care much for his priorities, but it saves us the trouble now. Watch your step," Sebestyen cautioned and helped his young charge down the stairs.

The second floor had been uninteresting—pale and washed out with little care for décor—but at the bottom of the steps, the dark wood floor shifted seamlessly into almond-cream carpet, and a wood moulding eased the transition from white to dramatically maroon walls. Gilded mirrors hung at regular intervals on the wall, their glass crackled and slightly smoky. Black iron stands stood on either side of each mirror, displaying large marble vases with spectacular specimens of Chinese Evergreens. The scent of cinnamon hung heavily in the air, and wall sconces carved in alabaster held quiet, melancholy lights.

"Harun was in one of his more somber moods when he had this hallway decorated," Sebestyen explained as Marik looked upwards to a wide, arched ceiling. "Fortunately, your room is a bit more cheerful."

Here Sebestyen stopped, and he pushed open a cherry wood door into a comfortably large room with oat-cake colored walls and a milky ceiling. Sheer curtains covered a set of darkly framed French doors, and a low slung bed with red covers waited patiently on the far right wall. A large dresser and mirror stood opposite the bed, while a grandfather clock stood watch in the corner next to a bookcase. The floor was made of light hardwood, but a center rug made of reds, blues, greens, and whites provided gentler footing.

Marik hung back guardedly, but Sebestyen eased him in.

"Come on, Marik. I'll show you where everything is."

8888

With the soft click of the door, Sebestyen shut Marik into his new room—relieved that the boy responded so well to the muscle relaxants that he had added in with the IV fluids. It was a more subtle way of keeping Marik confined than a lock, and it was less traumatizing. Marik had been falling asleep in less than fifteen minutes, and Sebestyen was confident that the boy would not be trying to escape in his weakened state...not to mention that Harun had effectively piqued the boy's curiosity.

Sighing heavily, Sebestyen leaned against the wall and massaged his forehead, willing away the blossoming headache.

"I'm too old for this," he muttered. Finding Harun would require more stamina than he had at the moment, and he let himself rest.

At fifty two years old, Sebestyen was twenty years Harun's senior, and the stress of doubling as hospital staff and Harun's private physician was beginning to catch up...he still had several years of stamina left, though Sebestyen knew that once the fatigue became too much, and he would be forced to give up one of his positions, there would be no question as to where his loyalties were set.

Catching a pale flash in the corner of his eye, Sebestyen jerked his head up and was met with his hazy reflection in the mirror across from him. The glass was the same as it had been for the past several years: clean and unremarkable, but Sebestyen could still not tear his eyes away. The more he stared, the more his reflection seemed hollow, pale, and flat. With a resigned sigh, Harun pushed himself upright and moved to stand directly in front of the mirror, his arm oustretched and palm nearly flat against it's surface. No matter how many times he had done this, it always felt damned uncomfortable, and he hated it. Still...he had to find Harun.

Sebestyen let his eyes slide closed, and he slowed his breathing so he could focus inwards, finding and grasping every part of his inner being he could find and directed it back to the mirror. It was always easier to send the energy to his right hand, giving it a place to go rather than let it simmer all throughout his limbs, but it had to be done quickly, as his hand suddenly grew unbearably heavy with an unseen weight. Once his arm began to shake with the effort, and he felt his concentration become in danger of breaking, Sebestyen stepped forward, and his hand—followed by the rest of his body—passed through the mirror and wall, leaving the hallways as it had been before: silent and abandoned.

8888

The secret stairwell was one of several in the house, but it was the only one that led to a small, closed off section of the basement—completely unfinished, as only the ceiling and walls were sealed with cement, and there was no flooring except for the dirt itself. Sebestyen stood on the landing, disoriented from his passage and the sudden lack of light. It was completely dark, but past experience had taught Sebestyen's arm exactly where to reach out for the solitary torch. As his fingers closed around the cold metal handle, he let the lingering itch on his palm leap to the candle, and it burst to life with a bright, if slightly off-color flame.

Wishing he had spent a few more minutes out in the hall to regain his strength, Sebestyen shook his head and started down the stairs. He immediately started to breathe through his mouth, as the air was dank and stale—the walls glistened with mold in the torchlight.

"Harun," Sebestyen softly called out, his voice barely echoing in the seemingly endless well of blackness. "Harun, I'm coming down, all right?"

Thirteen steps. Thirteen more to go.

Sebestyen called to Harun on every other step, making sure to keep his footfalls light, but far from silent. Once he reached the bottom, Sebestyen set the torch into a sconce and stepped into the pitch black room—the light was allowed no farther.

"Harun," Sebestyen tried again. "Are you all right?"

A slight whoosh of air was all the warning Sebestyen had, and he had barely the time to twist around before a smaller, but heavy body slammed into his, pushing him against the hard, slightly damp wall. Hands closed like vices around his upper arms, and unyielding hips had him pinned and allowed for little leg movement. Sebestyen made sure to relax in Harun's grip, and he whispered soothingly into the younger man's ear. Sebestyen could hear the increasingly irregularity of Harun's pounding heart, but the younger man seemed to not notice it. As long as it didn't become too out of sync...

With a pained whimper, Harun leaned forward and set his forehead against the doctor's shoulder.

"Se...Sebestyen..."

Sebestyen cocked his head so that it was resting on top of Harun's silky blonde locks, and he reached up to massage the arms that held him tightly.

"I'm right here, Harun."

"How...how is Marik?"

Sebestyen stiffened in surprise, but Harun's grip tightened painfully, and he forced himself to relax again.

"He's fine. He's asleep, right now. I gave some muscle relaxants in the IV fluid...he won't be going anywhere for a while. Or at least until tomorrow, when it will wear off."

"He won't leave. I...I don't want him to."

"Then he won't."

Harun fell quiet again, but he started to sink to the ground, and Sebestyen followed him down. Soon the doctor had Harun cradled in his lap—folded in his arms and receiving a massage to back of his neck. Harun was trembling, and Sebestyen cast around for distractions.

"Marik will need new clothes," he said. "We don't have anything to fit him now...though one of your shirts might do for a night until we get him something better. I know that Shani, one of the nurses at the hospital...she has a son, fourteen, I think...I'm sure she has some of his old clothes that she'd be willing to get rid of. I might even be able to get them tomorrow."

Harun's trembling slowed, and Sebestyen could feel that his heartbeat was settling into a more regular pattern.

"Will they come?" Harun whispered, his fingers tightening in the folds of Sebestyen's now rumpled white lab coat.

"Probably," Sebestyen answered. "But they won't find you...or Marik. I won't let them."

"They're...good at hiding."

"And I'm a doctor, Harun. I'm good at finding things. I'll keep my eyes and ears open...they'll come, but they won't have a single idea as to where you and Marik are." Sebestyen held Harun more tightly, and he placed a tender kiss on the younger man's temple. "I promise."

8888

To be continued...

Meaning of the name Sebestyen:

Sebestyen: Hungarian name meaning "revered."