Well, I had a couple of ideas for Thiefshipping oneshots so I decided to put them up in one story :)

Some of them will be AU, maybe some will follow the Yu-Gi-Oh! storyline? I'm not sure yet, but we'll see how we go :).

Here's the first one, it's set in Ancient Egypt and is AU.

Hope you guys enjoy :)

-Lauren

PS. Marik is not Yami Marik, but the normal, non-possessed Marik Ishtar :).

x.x.x

Marik could pinpoint the moment it had all started.

It had been an innocent enough day. The Egyptian sun was scorching his brown skin, but he didn't mind. It was a day out with his sister, Ishizu, in the fragrant marketplace, when his father was working and the two children had the day off.

He held her hand tightly and looked up at her with innocent eyes. Marik had only been 7 years old, and every day was like an adventure to him. Especially today. The markets were full of life, people bustling through the crowded alleyways, various arrays of jewellery, food, livestock, and slaves available for sale. The smell of human sweat in the heat of the summer sun pervaded, but Marik didn't mind. He could see the glint of glimmering jewellery, smell the food that was roasting on fires, and everywhere was noisy, merchants shouting, customers shouting, the endless haggling – it was a far cry from the scribe schoolrooms where there was only the soft scratching of pens on papyrus. Here, Marik didn't feel so alone. He could feel the heartbeat of the town merging with his own in the crowded market.

'Don't get lost,' Ishizu warned, her voice soft and mellow. Marik nodded obediently, and gripped her hand tighter.

Ishizu led him through the crowded streets while Marik stumbled clumsily after her, trying not to be swallowed by the crowd.

'Ishizu, I want that.' Marik pointed at a pair of golden earrings and looked huffily at Ishizu.

'I have to buy a cow today, Marik, not jewellery,' chided Ishizu gently.

'But...' Marik's bottom lip trembled and he looked as if he were about to cry. Of course, he wasn't. Marik was a fairly good actor and Ishizu was always falling for his tricks.

'No,' said Ishizu firmly. Marik was surprised. Ishizu usually gave in to Marik all the time. 'We don't have the money.'

There was truth in her words. Though their family was learned, and both were training to become scribes, a respected job in society, they were still short on money. Everyone in Egypt was short on money, no matter what job, (that is, except the Pharaoh). There was never enough to go around, even with the fertile soils of the Nile. Only the merchants, who travelled to foreign countries, could ever cross the line between poverty and wealth. Those stuck in Egypt – they had no hope of affording luxuries.

Marik put his hands on his hips but Ishizu simply dragged him along and started haggling with a merchant for a spotted cow.

'THIEF!' the gruff voice of a merchant bellowed. The entire marketplace snapped their heads around and sure enough, on the run was a white-haired teen, about 15 years old. People reached out to apprehend him but he was lithe and athletic, dodging them and then scaling the walls to reach the rooftops, where he jumped from building to building to make his getaway. People looked up and stared, while the merchant shook an angry fist.

Marik stared in awe as the boy jumped right over his head, from one rooftop to the next.

'Here you go!' said the thief, from the rooftop, mid-air, and suddenly, Marik found himself holding the pair of golden earrings he was looking at before. Amidst the kerfuffle of the thief, nobody noticed Marik placing the earrings slowly into his pocket.

Soon, the thief was gone, and Marik was left gawping.

'Who was that?' Marik asked Ishizu, eyes wide with wonder.

'I don't know,' snapped Ishizu. 'But we have to get out of here – the Pharaoh's men will probably be here soon.' She grabbed Marik's hand tightly and led him away.

Later on, in his bedroom, Marik took out the golden earrings from his pocket and held them in his hand. He stared, fascinated.

He had gotten what he wanted. And he didn't have to pay for it.

The beauty of that realisation hit him immediately. That white-haired thief – he didn't have to slave and toil and struggle through life like everybody else. He came in, took what he wanted, and then left, and nobody could touch him. He didn't have to spend hours in the classroom learning to be a scribe! He didn't have to struggle for food!

Everything was there for the taking.

It was just up to you to take it.

That was the start of Marik's thieving career.

x.x.x

Ten years later, Marik had become a master thief.

Ever since that fateful day, he had spent his spare afternoons running laps around his house, testing his stamina, sprinting as fast as he could. He practised stealing at lunch at school, but none of his friends had anything he wanted so he always gave it back. He practiced being sneaky at home – once he followed Ishizu around for a whole night without her noticing, though most of the time he just got shouted at when she finally did realise.

Now, he was able to steal from the marketplace without the merchants even noticing. He would just lean over the table, haggle furiously, and while the merchant wasn't looking, stuff things into his pocket...

Ishizu sometimes asked where all the nice things came from, and Marik knew that she knew the truth, but she never really pressed him too much on the matter. Why would she, when she was receiving golden necklaces and silk clothes? Their father was, of course, oblivious. He didn't care about anything but his scribe work. When Marik told him that he had gotten a bargain at the markets, his father simply believed him.

Their father had passed away recently, a couple of months ago. Ishizu took it hard but Marik got over it quickly. For the first week, he had been sad, but it was like anything in life. Here one moment, gone the next. He bounced back and focused his mind on thievery.

'Where are you going?' Ishizu asked, as Marik slipped out the front door.

'To the markets,' he said honestly. Ishizu was too tired to stop him, and just sighed loudly as Marik shut the front door.

Marik drunk the sunlight in and felt joyful. Today was going to be a good day – he could feel it.

He started off the day with a few simple steals – nothing major.

'I'll give you 400 for it,' he said to a merchant. The merchant shook his head profusely.

'What do you think this is – a charity?' the merchant asked.

Well, yeah, Marik said, as he used his muscular chest to block the sight of his hand grabbing a couple of strawberries.

'Fine. I'll go buy somewhere else,' Marik declared irritably and left the merchant to shout after him.

The day continued much like this until Marik's pockets were bulging, and his lips stained by sweet fruit.

He was content, and ready to call it a day, until he overheard a conversation between two men. They were big and muscular, and intrigued him. They held daggers at their waists and dressed a little better than all the other peasants.

'The boss said we should be there this evening,' said the taller of the two men.

'He'd better give us our pay – that was a hard job we just pulled off,' said the shorter one gruffly.

'Don't be too eager,' warned the taller one. 'Or we might never get initiated into the Den of Thieves.'

Marik's ears perked up. The Den of Thieves? That was a notorious gang of thieves that swept through the city like a tornado but left no trace. Without even a moment's warning, they would arrive – nobody could recognise them for what they were until the next day, merchants and citizens alike found great amounts of wealth missing. The entire populace of Egypt cursed the Den of Thieves, but it seems that it had the opposite effect – they were not riding on a curse, but on the wings of Lady Luck.

'I don't know why he calls himself the bloody King of Thieves,' said the shorter one irritably. 'Who is he anyway?'

'Nobody knows,' said the taller one.

'From what I know, he's just some kid. Couple of years younger than us, apparently. That's ridiculous. He's so young – he would have absolutely no experience!'

'Hey, that's what they all say. Or at least, that's what they say before they get their throats slit by him. This guy is a legend. Nobody can touch him, even though he's so young.'

'Hah. I'd love to see someone put a dent in this guy's ego. Heck, if someone stole something from him... They would be an absolute master.'

Marik's mind began to tick. Steal something from the King of Thieves himself? It was madness. But somehow, the idea made Marik's skin tingle and set his heart beating quickly. It would be the steal of the century. Stealing something from the King of Thieves... would that make him the King of Thieves? Even if this guy wasn't to be messed with, Marik knew that if there was anyone who could knock the King of Thieves off his high tower, it was Marik himself.

He had to give it a go.

Marik was light on his feet, and the two supposed "thieves" were so stupid they didn't even turn around once as Marik followed them. It was getting late, and Marik knew Ishizu would be wondering where he was, but he supposed he would explain in the morning.

This was too good an opportunity to miss out on.

'Where did he say we should meet?' asked the short thief.

'It's just up ahead,' said the taller thief.

They stopped outside a rundown looking shack, identical to the ones around it. There was nothing to tell the houses apart, but the thieves walked confidently up to the door, and knocked with the smart rap of their knuckles. Marik hid in the bushes, watching and waiting.

An ordinary looking man opened the door. Marik was quite disappointed. Surely this was not the King of Thieves?

'The King awaits you inside,' said the man, and Marik was relieved. Once they had entered the house and the door was closed, he emerged silently from the bushes and darted to the side of the house. Pressing himself close to the wall, he crouched down, and sat below a window so that he could hear the conversation.

'Menes, Imhotep,' Marik heard a commanding voice say. The voice sent shivers down his spine. It was raspy and had a foreign tinge to the accent. It sounded like pure power. Surely it was the voice of the King of Thieves. 'It is nice to finally see you here.' Marik could imagine the sneer on the face of the King of Thieves. His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

'It is nice to be here,' said one of the thieves.

'I'm glad you think so,' said the King of Thieves, 'because I'm afraid you will never leave.'

There was a gasp of surprise, and Marik heard the metallic ring of a dagger being unsheathed, two heavy thumps as the bodies of the thieves fell to the ground. It had all happened so quick, Marik suddenly panicked. The King of Thieves had just killed two men in the matter of a few seconds. Why did Marik ever think he could take this guy on?

Marik was dying to know what the King of Thieves looked like, but knew he could not give away his hiding place.

'Dispose of them,' ordered the King of Thieves.

'Yes, sir,' said the other man, and Marik heard the sound of the bodies being dragged away. Briefly he wondered whether their blood had stained the floor.

Then, Marik waited for the King of Thieves to leave. He waited, in agony. He felt his leg fall asleep, but still, the King of Thieves sat still. Marik had no idea what he was doing, but it was taking a bloody long time.

Marik started to panic. Would he be discovered? His hiding place was hardly adequate. Yet if he moved... his legs would probably have the worst case of pins and needles ever documented. There was no way he could make a quick getaway. Plus, the King of Thieves would hear if he even moved a muscle. But if the King of Thieves left the house, and found him crouching by the window...

Marik cursed in his head. He was in deep trouble now.

Finally, he heard the scraping of a chair against the floor, and the almost silent footsteps of the King of Thieves. The lock of the back door jangled as it was unlocked, and Marik breathed a sigh of relief. From the back door, the King of Thieves was unlikely to find him. The King of Thieves strode away, and Marik craned his neck to have a quick look.

Marik couldn't make out much from such a distance, but he knew that the King of Thieves had a head of hair that was white as Egypt's nonexistent snow.

Marik's mind suddenly flashed back to a white-haired boy jumping rooftops, and throwing a pair of golden earrings down...

Marik shook his head. Coincidence. Anyway, he had no time to dwell on it. The King of Thieves could be back any moment, and this was Marik's only chance. He climbed in silently through the window, surprised by the King of Thieves' low security. Marik expected better.

He stepped through the house silently, even though he knew that no one else was around. He scanned the room for the best thing to steal. To be honest, there wasn't much around. Marik expected a wealth of treasures, but all that was here was some food, normal household objects and a few clothes. Nothing of interest, really. Marik was disappointed. Maybe this wasn't the King of Thieves' hideout...

Then he spotted something glinting in a cupboard on the far side of the room. He walked over and found a golden ring buried under a shirt.

Perfect, thought Marik. He pocketed the ring, but before he could turn around, he felt a body slam him into the wall headfirst and the chill of metal at his throat.

Marik gulped. He was in deep shit now. He considered fighting, but from what he could tell, the other person was taller and stronger than him. Plus, there was a knife at his throat. Marik abandoned the idea of fighting and let his body go limp instead.

'Who are you?' asked the voice. Marik felt himself tense up. It was the King of Thieves, that raspy, dangerous voice. Oh, Marik was really screwed now. He wondered what would happen to his body.

'No one,' Marik answered.

'That's a shame,' said the King of Thieves, mockingly. 'You have got some skill. I know you followed those two buffoons here. But you could never outwit me.' Marik felt the blade press closer to his skin, and he felt his heart start to race.

The King of Thieves was going to kill him, and his body would sink to the deepest, darkest depths of the Nile.

Before Marik could understand what was going on, he felt a sharp blow of pain and the whole world dissolved into black.

x.x.x

When Marik woke up, he found himself in a dark room, and found, to his horror, that his hands were tied and the door was locked. He tried to stand up but found that his hands must have been tied to a fixture on the wall. He fought for a couple of minutes, and then gave up, slumped against the wall.

He thought the King of Thieves would have the decency to kill him quickly, but obviously it was going to be a long, drawn-out affair. Marik swore loudly and used the rest of his strength to try and wrench his arms from the rope. All he ended up with were sore arms and exhaustion.

He heard the lock being unlocked, and the door swung open. Marik came face to face with the King of Thieves for the first time.

Admittedly, the King of Thieves was handsome. He had a delicious smirk painted across his face, and deep brown eyes bored into Marik's own. He was young, muscular, and quite tall, but not bulky. His skin was unusually pale for someone living in Egypt, yet, Marik had suspected that he was a foreigner.

The King of Thieves was also exactly the same person that had thrown the golden earrings to Marik that fateful day in the markets ten years ago.

'I see you kept my gift,' said the King of Thieves, walking closer and crouching down to Marik's level. He reached out and touched Marik's earrings.

'You were the thief,' said Marik. 'What's your name?'

Bakura's hand slapped Marik across the face quickly, brutally. Marik felt his cheek sting, but could not fight back. He snapped his head back and glared at the King of Thieves.

'I'm the one asking the questions,' said the King of Thieves savagely.

'Will you hurry up and kill me?' Marik asked cheekily. 'I mean, I didn't know the King of Thieves had so much time on his hands to take hostages. I thought you just slit the throat of whoever so much as looked at you the wrong way.'

'You're wrong,' said the King of Thieves, leaning in closer and cupping Marik's chin in his hand. All Marik's fake bravado dissolved at the touch and he suddenly felt trapped. 'I only slit the throats of the useless ones. The others... I mean, a guy's gotta have some fun, right? I still haven't decided, though – knives or blunt weapons?'

Marik shivered. It wasn't going to be an easy death. He could see it in the thief's icy eyes – pure sadistic glee. Marik wasn't sure how he was going to deal with this.

'I'll be back later with something to clean the blood up once I'm done,' said the King of Thieves. He swiftly punched Marik in the stomach, leaving him winded as he walked away.

Marik's panic reached a peak. He had to get out of here, before this madman could kill him. He needed to escape. But how? He couldn't break the ropes, and all the struggling only gave him bloody wrists.

He had to outwit the King of Thieves.

He waited until a guard opened the door.

Marik put his master plan into action. His eyes were closed and he was completely still. He had managed to get the blood from his wrists all over himself. He waited. Surely the guard would want to know what was going on.

'Oi. Oi! OI! WAKE UP!' shouted the guard. Marik didn't answer. He sensed the guard getting closer, crouching down to look more closely at Marik.

Suddenly Marik's eyes snapped open, he kicked the guard against the wall and spun around as much as the ropes would allow.

'Untie me,' Marik ordered.

The guard coughed, trapped between Marik and the wall.

'No-'

Marik pressed his foot to the guard's neck.

'I'll break your neck,' Marik warned. The guard looked around, but nobody was there to help him. Slowly, he took a knife from his pocket. Marik pressed against the guard's neck, harder. Quickly the guard cut his ropes, and Marik shook himself out of them. He stood up and kicked the guard to the floor.

'Fool,' said Marik. He gave the guard one last quick kick to the head, made sure he was unconscious, and took the keys from his pocket.

Marik let himself out and stole down the corridors quietly. He prayed that he would not encounter the King of Thieves, because though Marik was strong, he was no match for the master thief.

Marik felt tense, and heard footsteps approaching, Quickly he opened the door to a storage cupboard and shut himself in. He peered through the crack and listened to the conversation.

'The prisoner escaped,' said one of the men.

'Well, the boss isn't going to be happy,' said the other.

'Reckon we should get out of here while we still can?' the first man asked. The other nodded and they left swiftly.

Marik opened the cupboard and continued down the corridor, hoping to find a way out. The whole place was a maze, though, and, apparently, underground. There were no windows, just burning torches every couple of metres.

Marik ran through the labyrinth, getting more and more frustrated. He couldn't find his way out, and the clock was ticking. If the King of Thieves found him... he was dead meat.

On a hunch, he opened one of the doors and found, not an exit, but something interesting nonetheless.

It was a luxurious, opulent room, filled with gold and treasures. The sheets were made out of pure silk, and Marik felt intense jealousy as he ran his hands across them. He couldn't even begin to count the ounces of gold in this room. The room had more wealth than most Egyptians could hope to make in a lifetime.

Marik, overwhelmed, had let his guard down and didn't notice another figure entering the room.

'Like what you see?' Marik heard that foreign voice and felt his whole body sink into a state of panic. This was the King of Thieves' room. And Marik was in here. Trespassing. Without a weapon.

He had no chance.

And he had been so close to freedom...

Marik snapped around, but it was too late. The King of Thieves was armed and ready, with a curved dagger and a sharp smirk.

'You – ' Marik couldn't even string together a proper sentence.

The King of Thieves lunged forward first, but Marik managed to duck out of the way. Marik tried to get a punch in the King's side, but missed. The King of Thieves ducked around Marik and had him in a headlock before Marik could react.

'I think I'll go with the knives,' whispered the King of Thieves in Marik's ear.

Marik started to see purple dots in his vision, and felt the oxygen leaving his brain. He struggled, but the thief was too strong. With one final burst of strength, he kicked backwards and by some miracle, managed to hit the King of Thieves in his most vulnerable spot. Out of instinct he let go of Marik.

Marik had two options – fight or flight – and he knew exactly which one he was going to take.

He made a run for the door, but to his horror, found it locked. In desperation he banged on the door and started to scream. He fiddled with the lock, but it wouldn't come undone.

Marik desperately looked around for another exit, but there was none.

The King of Thieves stood up straight again, recovering from his wound already.

Marik ransacked the room for weapons, but all he could find was some old piping in the bathroom that was thick and heavy.

'You're a dead man,' the King of Thieves told Marik, as he stalked closer. Marik held up the piping defensively and stood his ground.

The King of Thieves weaved around Marik's left side, and Marik was too slow to hit him with the piping. The King of Thieves knocked the piping right out of Marik's hands and it made a loud clanging sound as it clattered on the floor.

The King of Thieves inched closer. Marik stepped back, but soon found that he was against a wall.

There was a tense moment of anticipation, of who would make the first move...

Marik went in for a punch to the jaw, but the King of Thieves dodged and hit Marik right in the stomach. Marik doubled over in pain, and the thief took the opportunity to destroy his opponent. He hit Marik on the side of the head, knocking Marik to the ground. Marik felt pain explode in his head, but tried to pick himself up off the ground and ignored the hurt.

The King of Thieves was faster than him, though. He kicked Marik down. Marik felt the pain rack through his body as his back collided with the wall.

The King of Thieves grabbed Marik's wrists with an iron grip and dragged him up, pinning him against the wall.

'So kill me already,' Marik teased. Even in the moments before his death, he couldn't keep his smart mouth shut. Bakura's smirk widened into a smile.

'Not quite yet,' he said, relishing each word, staring derisively down at Marik. Roughly, he lifted Marik off the ground and slammed him against the wall, again and again. Marik could feel the back of his head was sticky with warm blood. He almost passed out, but then he heard the King of Thieves' voice again.

'You're different,' the King of Thieves declared. 'Most of the others are begging for mercy by now.'

'I will never beg,' spat Marik, lifting his tired eyes to meet the King of Thieves' own.

The King of Thieves' handsome face twisted into a smirk. He pulled rope from his pocket and tied Marik's hands above his head, to a fixture in the wall. Marik's feet barely touched the ground, and he felt his body aching as it stretched uncomfortably.

'We'll see about that,' whispered the King of Thieves, into Marik's ear. Marik could feel the thief's hot breath on his neck, and shivered. He was incredibly uncomfortable.

The thief's face was only inches from Marik's own, and before he knew what was happening, he felt hot lips bruise his own. Marik felt firm hands on his chest, pushing him against the wall. Marik tried to struggle, but couldn't escape.

The thief's kiss was demanding, passionate, forceful, but Marik found that he was quite enjoying it. He couldn't do anything to stop the thief, anyway, and anything that delayed his death was a good thing.

'You taste sweet,' breathed the thief, breaking away from the kiss and staring at Marik.

'I stole some strawberries earlier today,' mumbled Marik.

'By the way,' said the King of Thieves, while planting kisses along Marik's neck. 'My name's Bakura.'

Bakura. Bakura. Bakura. Marik said the name again and again in his head, and found he liked it.

'It'll be a nice thing for you to scream later,' said Bakura, with an evil wink, as he resumed kissing Marik.