Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Desert Rose ❯ Desert Rose ( Chapter 1 )

Okay, I got this idea while listening to a Sting CD, “Brand New Day”.

Don’t ask.

Touzoukuou means Thief King in Japanese, I guess o.o;;

Disclaimer: I don’t own YuGiOu... I’m just borrowing the characters from Takahashi-san to write this fanfic ^^; I also don’t own the song, Desert Rose by Sting. I’m changing the lyrics a bit to suit my purposes. She’s to he’s and so on...

Summary: The sands of time slip through my fingers as I watch him laugh. I thought he was so emotionless, but listen as he sings about his desert rose and I know I’m wrong. I gaze into the flickering flames and see those blood red petals that have been haunting my visions for quite some time. (Pg-13 for Shounen-ai, pairings: Thief King Bakura/Pharaoh Atemu)

Desert Rose
by Fat Cat Buyo
A YuGiOu One-shot (like all of the other ones)

---------

A servent bowed before the Pharaoh, before he was asked to speak his news. He stood and didn’t look his Pharaoh in the face.

“Pharaoh, I have heard news of the Thief King’s whereabouts.” He paused, and waited.

“Continue.” Pharaoh Atemu said, calmly sitting on his throne.

“His living quarters are still unknown, though, we have found where his family used to live...” The servant continued talking, but the words seemed slurred together to the Pharaoh.

Atemu sat there, his thoughts elsewhere. ‘Hmm... I finally have a chance to catch the Thief King and give him what he really deserves.’

Being one of the best Pharaohs that had ever ruled Egypt, he knew that he must put a stop to the Thief King’s tomb robbing and killing. He hurt innocent people and for that he deserved to die. That reason alone.

‘But why?’ He almost asked aloud. Shaking his head, he looked at the servant who was still standing there.

“Thank you. You may leave.” He frowned and looked at Mahaado. “What now?” The Magician thought for a minute or so before coming up with a plan.

------

Atemu sat on the top of a dark brown stable horse. Different than the richer horses that he was used to riding, this one was still beautiful. It’s breath was even and he could feel it breathing slowly as he sat on it. The horse only wore a few saddle bags, so that it didn’t tire quickly on their long journey.

Atemu wore a turban on his head, covering his tri-coulored hair, thus keeping his identity a secret. His robes were white and he wore no gold. He kept small earrings in his ears so that the holes did not close up.

Mahaado was dressed very similar to him and his horse was white. Grinning, he looked towards his Pharaoh. “From now on, we are equals. Traveling merchants searching for towns to sell their goods.”

“I have always considered you my equal.” Atemu said, nodding.

“Let’s ride. To the west.” He said, kicking his horse’s sides so that he started trotting. “I give it.... five days or so ‘til we get there.” He said, as his Pharaoh caught up with his horse. “Can you last?”

“Of course I can. What do you take me for?” Silence met his question when the Pharaoh realized that his right hand Magician was deep in thought. He decided not to bother him, for he could be thinking of anything to put a stop to the Thief king.

Lost in his own thoughts, he stared on into the never ending sand. For a split second, he could see the blood red petals of a desert rose, scattered across the plains. He blinked and they disappeared. ‘The desert can do that to you.’ He thought, dismissing the fleeting image.

‘What will we do once we find him?’ He asked himself, turning back to his own thoughts. ‘We can not slay an innocent village. Unless they’re all against us.... then we have no choice. But we must try and keep our identities secret. It won’t be too hard. But the Thief king is wise and cunning and may outsmart us if we are not careful. For all we know, the minute we step foot into the village, he could know who we are and just waits for the right time to kill us.’ The Pharaoh sighed. ‘Why did I ever agree to this?’

Mahaado looked over to his Pharaoh, his eyes distant. He saw the way that he gave the sands a funny look. ‘The mirages have gotten to him already. I knew that this wouldn’t be a safe journey for him. But what’s done is done and there’s no turning back now.’

When they had to stop for the night, they took shelter in a cool cave. They sipped carefully on the cantines and ate some corn cakes before sleeping.

But the Pharaoh could not sleep. Memories of the blood red petals haunted his thoughts and wouldn’t leave his mind. Sitting in front of the flickering flames, he only slightly noticed when he heard noises coming from outside.

The rhythmic beating of a horse’s gallop could be heard. The sweet sound of hooves meeting the desert sand was beautiful and was enough to send any horse rider to a calm state of tranquility. The noise intrigued the Pharaoh and he stood. Looking down at Mahaado, he contemplated waking him up and warning him. He shook his head, not wanting to wake the tired Magician from his slumber. Before going outside, he listened hard, just to see if they had left already.

There was no noise. Nothing but the regular sounds of the night. He strained harder and heard the snort of a horse and someone’s soft voice. Deciding to investigate further, he stepped out of the warm cave into the cold night.

Outside was a sight that would always stay burned into the Pharaoh’s mind. A midnight black horse stood about twenty feet from where the Pharaoh himself stood, hidden by a rock. A cloaked figure stood near the horse, it’s robes blowing in the night winds. The horse reared up and whinnied, calling into the night. The cloaked figure rubbed it’s hand along the horse’s sleek, black neck, whispering softly to it. The hood covering it’s head blew in the wind as well and it hummed something softly as the horse calmed down.

Atemu made a sound from where he sat and the rider looked over. His eyes met with the Pharaoh’s and he slowly lowered his hood, his silver hair reflecting the moonlight. The Pharaoh tensed and lowered himself slowly, making sure he could still see the mysterious rider. The wind picked up and he noticed something was blowing about in the wind. Once the cloud covering the moon moved, he could see the blood red petals clearly, and they stood out in the darkened night. The petals blew every which way, surrounding the rider. He stared harder and the rider disappeared entirely.

Atemu stood there. The rider was gone. “Must’ve been a mirage...” He whispered softly to himself. Stepping back into the warm cave, he sat before the fire a little while, before falling asleep on the cold ground.

As soon as he fell asleep, he woke up, laying in the warm desert sand. His robed body was surrounded by the desert rose petals. Sitting up, some fell off his chest and onto his lap. He picked one up and felt the smoothness of the petal under his fingertips. Sighing, he looked around. “Where am I?” He groaned. No one answered his question. He looked around and all he could see was sand. For miles and miles the sand stretched, like an ocean. He blinked and right in front of him appeared an oasis. He heard the pouring water of a waterfall and the exotic noises from inside the oasis. Picking up a staff, he entered. His sand-coloured robes were travel worn and dirty, so he stripped and washed them in the pool of water. Setting them near a tree to dry, he slipped himself into the cool water, wading over to the waterfall so he could wash his hair.

Atemu heard a sound behind him, but before he could turn his head, strong arms wrapped around him from behind, and the intruder began to plant rough kisses up and down the Pharaoh’s neck. Moaning quietly, Atemu closed his eyes and let the strange take him away. The person roughly turned him around and kissed him passionately, letting his arms wander downwards. He groaned and the thing began to roughly shake him and laugh.

Opening his eyes, he looked straight into the face of Mahaado, who was laughing. The Magician fell back onto his butt and clutched his stomach tightly, trying to breathe.

“What is so---” Looking down, he saw the stain in his robes and blushed a deep shade of red. ‘Oooooh shit.’

------

After they washed the robe with some of the water from the cantines, they mounted the horses again and began day two of their journey.

“Explanation. Now.” Mahaado demanded, riding next to his Pharaoh.

The Pharaoh looked to his right hand Magician. “I had a dream...” He whispered, slightly embarrassed.

“Oh! A dream...!” He snickered. “Was it about one of the suitors!” He asked.

“I don’t know who it was....” Atemu admitted. “But it was male. No woman could have hands as coarse as that person’s. Nor could they be so tough and strong.”

“Maybe it was a slave woman?” He suggested.

“Why would I have a dream about a slave woman?” He asked. “Besides... I do not approve of slavery.” He said. Mahaado nodded in agreement.

“Well... enough of this.” He said. “We have a long way head of ourselves.. Though, I asked the Gods to guide us. So we shall be safe for the time being. Also, I believe that this journey will indeed take shorter than five days. We shall be there by midday.” Mahaado continued to ramble on about his nonsense.

‘Should I tell him about the mirages I keep seeing?’ He asked himself. His gut told him that he should, for the Magician was wise and could help him. But his heart told him no and that he should wait awhile before consulting him. ‘I just want to get this over with. Soon and fast.’

------

They traveled for miles and miles in silence. They stopped a bit to let the horses drink and to check the inventory. With that complete, they continued. The sand and silence stretched on, but it was a comfortable silence. Atemu couldn’t help but trying to get to the bottom of his dream and the mirages.

‘What does it all mean?’ Sighing, he never noticed when Mahaado stopped his horse. When he finally DID notice, he halted the horse and looked back. Mahaado stared straight on. The Pharaoh turned his head and looked to where his comrade was looking.

In front of them was a stretch of green. Palm trees hung lazily over a small village. People busied themselves by making things or cooking meals. Their “houses” were sand-coloured tents, held up by wooden poles. Atemu could hear the sound of a waterfall and the call of exotic birds. The small village hung outside of an oasis.

‘These people are poor yet rich.’ He thought to himself.

“This is it.” Mahaado said, dismounting his horse. He calmly walked over to the area and held up his hand as a sign of peace. People stopped moving to watch him. “We have come to trade and give to your people. Sent by the Pharaoh Atemu, I come bearing these gifts.”

Upon mention of the Pharaoh’s name, they all relaxed and invited the “merchants” in to their village. The people tied up their horses and helped them with their items.

“You can stay in whatever tent you wish. You are guests of honor in this village if you were sent from the Pharaoh.” A village elder told them both.

Atemu smiled, glad that this village loved and respected him so. “Thank you.” Choosing a partially empty but furnished tent, they set down their possessions and walked outside, ducking under the flaps.

A young girl of about fifteen walked up to the two of them. “I was told to assist you both in bathing.” Atemu stared at her and blinked. She laughed slightly and led the two men to the waterfall. After she left, they stripped and got into separate pools. The cool water felt nice on the Pharaoh’s warm skin. He waded over to the waterfall and put his head under the running water. Massaging his scalp, he attempted to get all of the sand and stuff out of his hair, and make himself feel less dirty. There was a noise behind him and he tensed.

‘My dream!’ He thought as he turned around. But he was met by the young girl. She smiled at him and looked down, slightly embarrassed. She washed his clothes in the cool water and then hung them up to dry. She did the same for Mahaado. Upon seeing her, Atemu relaxed and let himself just rest inside the pool.

After awhile, his clothes had dried and the sun began to set. He got out of the water and dried himself off. He made sure that he wrapped the turban around his head and that the robe was on before he walked back into the village. They had a fire going and people were sitting around it.

“Who’s the leader of this village?” Atemu asked.

“Baku!” One of the children answered, gleefully. He smiled slightly, not knowing who “Baku” is.

“Where is he?”

The little child shrugged. “He isn’t here yet.” She pouted and sat down next to who Atemu thought was her mother, and took a bite out of a corn cake. The elder handed him one and he took a bite out of the sweet treat.

‘I’ve never experienced life like this. Only the life of my palace and throne.’ He took a seat next to Mahaado by the fire. People chatted happily amongst themselves and the two often found themselves telling people about life among the Pharaoh.

Atemu stared at the fire after one girl left, giggling. Since all of his thoughts were concentrated on the fire, he never noticed when someone strode into the small village.

“Baku!” The little girl cried. Atemu was jerked out of his thoughts suddenly as Mahaado placed a hand on his Pharaoh’s shoulders. He looked up and saw the Thief King standing. Just standing right there.

“What did I miss?” He asked gruffly, as he threw a sack on the ground next to him.

“We have guests! Merchants from the Pharaoh bearing gifts!” The elder said, smiling.

“The Pharaoh, eh?” He smirked and looked at Atemu and Mahaado. His eyes narrowed. “Why did you let them in?”

“But, it’s the Pharaoh!”

“So? I don’t give a flying rats ass about the Pharaoh!” He paused for a second. “Well fine. They can stay. But I want them out of here before tomorrow midday. You hear?” He sat down and crossed his arms.

“But they’re here to trade!” A woman said.

“Why do you think I rob tombs for?” He sighed. Atemu and Mahaado felt rather uncomfortable now. He looked to Atemu and Mahaado, realizing his mistake.

The little girl from before tugged on the Thief King’s red robe. He looked over at her and his angry expression turned into one that was filled with emotion. “Baku... can you sing me a song?”

He laughed. “A song?” The girl nodded and he sighed. “Do the guests want a song?” He asked, looking straight into Atemu’s eyes.

The Pharaoh could feel his red eyes probe at his mind. He felt naked and vulnerable.

“That would be great!” Mahaado said, enthusiastically. The Magician’s hand unconsciously went to what Atemu knew was the Sennen ring. Atemu could feel the weight of the puzzle burried under the folds of his clothing.

The Thief King cleared his throat and one man got out some hand-made drums. A woman got out a hallow gourd that was filled with rice grains and started to shake it rhythmically. The drummer began to chant things in a language foreign to everyone. The Thief King was staring at the fire absentmindedly before he began to sing.

“I dream of rain,
I dream of gardens in the desert sand.
I wake in pain,
I dream of love as time runs through my hand.

I dream of fire,
Those dreams are tied to a horse that will never tire.
And near the flames,
The shadows play in the shape of a man’s desire.

This desert rose,
Whose shadow veils a secret promise.
This desert flower,
No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this.

And now he turns,
The way he moves in the logic of all my dreams.
This fire burns,
I realize that nothing’s as it seems.

I dream of rain,
I dream of gardens in the desert sand.
I wake in pain,
I dream of love as time runs through my hand.

I dream of rain,
I life my gaze to empty skies above.
I close my eyes,
The rare perfume is a sweet intoxication of love.”

The singing stopped as the chanting continued for awhile. Then, the drumming came in for a small solo. The King of Thieves sat and stared into the fire the whole time, only looking up once to watch Atemu.

“I dream of rain,
I dream of gardens in the desert sand.
I wake in pain,
I dream of love as time runs through my hand.

Sweet desert rose,
Whose shadow veils a secret promise.
This desert flower,
No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this.

Sweet desert rose,
This memory of hidden hearts and souls.
This desert flower,
This rare perfume is the sweet intoxication of love.”

The drummer chanted more before the drums and chanting slowly faded into nothing.

The whispering slowly turned into loud chatter as people complimented him on his wonderful song. Atemu stood up and looked at Mahaado before returning to his tent. On the pile of pillows on the ground was a knife, and next to it, a desert rose.

He sighed and reached for it. After hesitating, he picked it up. “It’s real this time.” He whispered, rubbing a petal between his fingertips. Narrowing his eyes, he looked around the tent before laying down on the pillows. He examined the knife, turning it over in his hands. Inscribed along the blade in hieroglyphs was: “Some who deserve to die, live, while other who deserve life, are dead.”

“And he continues to live, killing those who deserve life...” The Pharaoh closed his eyes and sighed, his grip on the knife tightened.

He crept out of his tent and into the large tent he saw the Thief King walk into earlier. He pulled back the flaps and looked inside. No one was there. He wandered in slightly and looked around the tent before sighing. He turned around to leave, but something caught his eye. A glimmer of red shone from the corner and the Pharaoh froze. A candle lit from the shadows and the Thief King slowly stepped forward. Unconsciously, Atemu held the knife in front of him for protection.

“I see you got my gift.” The King of Thieves smirked.

Atemu opened his mouth, but paused for a second. “You... who are you really??”

“The King of Thieves.”

“What is your name?”

“What is in a name? What good will my name do you?” The Pharaoh was silent. “Well... if you have to pester me about it.... Some people call me ‘touzou kuou’. Some call me ‘Baku’, some call me ‘Bakura’ and some call me ‘Akifa’. But either name you give me... I will still be the King of Thieves. A tomb robber. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me, Pharaoh.” Reaching over, he tugged the turban off, revealing the spiky, tri-coloured hair.

Thunder sounded outside and a bright flash of lightning shone, illuminating the entire tent. Rain started pouring hard outside and the happy cry of people sounded, as they scurried back to their tents.

“When did you...?” Atemu was, for once, at a loss for words.

“Ever since you set foot in this village, I knew. I was here all along. I knew once I spotted those violet eyes. And what merchants come here? We’re in the middle of the desert. Actually, come to think of it, I knew once you stepped out of your Palace.” Atemu tried to keep the look of horror and confusion off of his face.

“You can’t kill me, Pharaoh. Without me, this oasis and it’s people will crumble. Without me, who would you be able to think about day in and day out?” He took a step towards Atemu and brought his lips to the Pharaoh’s ear. “You need me to live.” The breath tickled his ear slightly. Smirking, Bakura stuck his tongue out and ran it along the frame of the ear. He sucked on it and nibbled on the earlobe.

Atemu visibly relaxed, and his tight grip on the knife loosened. Bakura took the chance to take the knife. He held it to the Pharaoh’s neck.

“Now what shall I do with you? I could kill you and get my revenge? Or I could spare you and make you mine. I bet that neither of them sound appealing to you. So, pick your poison.”

“I would rather die than be your slave.” Atemu narrowed his eyes and didn’t flinch when Bakura dug the knife into his neck, slightly.

“Oh? Then I’ll spare you.” The Thief King gave Atemu another malicious grin. “You’ll be mine forever.” His right hand grabbed a fistful of the Pharaoh’s hair, pulling his head back and exposing his slightly bloody neck. Bakura ran his tongue along the cut, taking in all of the freely flowing, warm blood. Atemu shivered. His hands moved on their own, but he quick;y brought them back to his sides.

“You like that?” No response. The Thief King began laughing maniacally before releasing his tight grip on Atemu’s hair.

“Be prepared for one hell of a night, Pharaoh. You’ll never forget this one.” He stripped himself before violently tugging the robes off of Atemu, ripping them. He forced the Pharaoh onto the carpeted floor and straddled his waist.

Atemu squirmed under Bakura’s weight. Smirking, the Thief King pressed himself to the younger man and kissed hin roughly, forcing his tongue into the Pharaoh’s mouth. Atemu couldn’t breathe. His nails were digging into Bakura’s back, in hopes that he could get the heavier man off of him.

Bakura pulled back and Atemu gasped for air. There were red lines on Bakura’s back where the Pharaoh had clawed. “If you didn’t squirm so much, you would enjoy this more.” He chided. Before the Pharaoh could do anything, Bakura attacked his neck, nibbling and sucking with the occasional gnaw. His mouth moved down to his chest, and his tongue swirled around each nipple. Atemu gasped, relaxing and arching his back to press himself closer to Bakura. The Thief King paused, just to watch the Pharaoh pant.

The only sounds were the patter of rain and the Pharaoh’s breathing. Nothing else mattered to Bakura. Not the sounds of the night animals, or the wet horses outside. Because, for the time being, they were the only ones in the world.

------

A bright light burned the Pharaoh’s eyes. He stuffed his face in a pillow. Shielding his eyes, he looked around the tent. The only thing covering him was a small blanket. He turned to stand up, but the immense pain in his rear end kept him from doing so. Flashes of last night came back to him and a pleasurable shiver ran down his spine.

Once he finally got up, he wrapped the small blanket around his waist. No one was outside. The large fire they had going the night before was just a darkened mass of logs. He looked at the oasis and saw the morning dew on the grass. Sighing, he looked at the horses. His horse stared at him. It stood in between a midnight black one and Mahaado’s. Atemu did a double take and stared at the midnight stallion. It shook it’s head, snorting, and then stared back at him.

He slowly approached it and stroked it’s side, feeling the wetness of last night’s rainfall under his hand. He pulled his hand away after a while and wandered over to the pools. Bathing under the waterfall, his muscles relaxed and he sunk deeper into the cool water. The morning was just beginning and it was starting to heat up. When he was done, he ripped a strip off of the blanket and used it as a belt. He walked back to the small “village” and looked around. People were beginning to awaken from the night’s rest. They rubbed the sand from their eyes and set on making breakfast. Little children still slept in the tents.

Atemu waved to Mahaado, who was wide awake. Of course, the turban he wore the other day was not with him, and his long brown hair billowed in the wind. The sight of him made some of the women and girls giggle. Atemu ran a hand through his hair, self consciously. He noticed that the village Elder was looking at him with some sort of recognition. The kind that you get when you feel that you’ve seen someone before, but can not place it. Atemu smiled and walked over to his companion.

“How was your night?” Mahaado grinned. Atemu blushed and looked away. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that the black horse was gone.

“It was... interesting...” Atemu looked to one side.

“So, the Thief King is still alive, I’m guessing.” The Pharaoh nodded.

“I’m sorry...”

“Look. Don’t be. You’ll see him again.” Mahaado shrugged.

“What gives you that feeling?”

“Magician’s intuition, you could call it.” The Magician smirked. Their conversation was interrupted when the elder walked up to them.

“I am honored that you could grace your presence in our village, Pharaoh Atemu.” He gave a small smile and bowed. Atemu laughed nervously. Mahaado smiled absentmindedly, his mind obviously gone.

Atemu wandered over to Bakura’s tent. He looked around and spotted the knife, laid out on a pillow. ‘He was here....’ He thought to himself. Picking up the knife, he put it in his his makeshift belt. He walked out of the tent, and looked out at the rising sun. The sky was a mystic blend of red, pink and purple. A perfect beginning to the perfect story.

---Owari---

YAY! DONEEE! -goes to spell check and then ship off to her editor-

~Buyo