#those who rule egypt

[thosewhoruleegypt]

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden (1 - 16)

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden is a collection of oneshots and drabbles within the TwRE-verse; Ancient Egypt AU. Each can be read separately, but they’ll make more sense with context~ Part I happens between For Love of Pharaoh and King and What Followed the High Priest Home.

Main Story Begins Here! Also available on AO3~ Previous Chapter - Next Chapter Part III of the Series Begins Here! (coming soon~) Or, if you haven’t yet, consider checking out this AU side-story (alternate backstory of Thief King Bakura)! 

Part I; Chapter 16 In which the Pharaoh and the Thief King have a proper duel, and make an appropriately high-stakes wager how  1000 words; rated T

note: Guys... this is the end of The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden Part I.  Thank you so much for your readership--it honestly means the world to me! We’re nearly caught up to what’s posted on AO3, so I’ll see you all tomorrow in the next installment~ 

"Pharaoh... you really want to do this?" Yugi asked, and Atem nodded. 

"The cur's insulted me one too many times. This time I'll show him his place." 

"And you don't think he's just goading you again?" Yugi asked flatly. 

"If he is, he'll learn to think better of it, next time." 

"... What did he get you to wager, Pharaoh?" 

Atem's face flushed. "... That's not the point." 

"Pharaoh!" 

"Not the point, Partner!" Atem snapped, and Yugi slapped one hand across his forehead. 

"Pharaoh! What in Ra's name did you wager?" 

"It doesn't matter because I won't lose!" Atem retorted, and then fell silent as Thief King Bakura stalked onto the other side of the duel field. The Thief King wore several thin, golden chains about his maize headdress, a style he seemed fond of, and modest, flaxen silk robes. Yugi thought such a regal image suited the man much better than that of a prisoner peering out from behind bars. At the same time he realized, in such moments, why the Thief King's presence made the Pharaoh so nervous. Bakura had a certain grander about him that rivaled Atem's own, titles notwithstanding. Yugi wondered if someone, presented with the two men and having no contextual knowledge, would be able to tell which was the pharaoh—he thought they would have a more or less 50/50 chance of guessing correctly. 

"Having second thoughts, Pharaoh?" Bakura called out, even as Ryou trotted up beside him; waved to Yugi, who returned the gesture cordially. "I'll let you back out, if you beg!" 

"I would sooner renounce my throne!" Atem sneered, and Yugi's face went white. 

"Great gods, Atem, you didn’t bet the throne again?!" 

Bakura laughed boisterously. "If that was the wager, little pharaoh-ling, I wouldn't offer to let him slither out of it!" 

"Pharaoh won't tell you?" Ryou called over. "Bakura won't tell me what they bet, either!" 

"I won't lose, so it doesn't matter," the Thief King purred, nuzzling into Ryou's hair and then kissing the top of his head. 

Ryou's eyes narrowed balefully. "Why do I have a horrible feeling about this?" 

"Pharaoh, you weren't drunk when you made this wager, were you?" Yugi asked worriedly. 

"No more intoxicated than him," Atem sniffed, and Yugi hid his eyes with one palm. 

"Oh great Ra..." 

"If you won't back down, shall we begin?" Bakura called, pulling out his deck. Atem nodded seriously, doing the same. "No Mind Shuffling, now, kittens." 

"I'll beat you by my own merit, Thief!" Atem declared. "My move—I draw!" 

... ... ... 

The man slumped to his knees; buried his face in his hands, cards re-materializing around him. His consort crouched beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

"... Pharaoh, what did you wager?" 

Thief King Bakura laughed maniacally, across the duel field. The monster on his field, Diabound Kernel, coiled delightedly around him, bumping its head affectionately against Bakura's shoulder. "Well, well, Pharaoh! Beat me by your own merit, will you? What a fine joke that turned out to be!" 

"What did you wager, Pharaoh?" Yugi asked again, gentle but urgent. 

All Atem mumbled, in reply, was, "Oh gods... I lost to him..." and didn't remove his head from his hands. 

Ryou met Yugi's concerned gaze; shrugged. "I'm sure it can't be that bad..." Ryou said, and Bakura's laughter intensified. 

"Oh, it's very, very bad for our dear little Pharaoh!" he cackled, and Atem, with notable difficulty, struggled to his feet. 

"I'm a man of my word, you filthy thief... As per our deal..." 

Bakura's laughter intensified, to the point where Ryou seemed genuinely concerned, and eventually the Thief King was gasping in pain and clutching at his ribs, though still grinning. 

... ... ... 

Thief King Bakura took great pleasure in demolishing the statue of Pharaoh Atem that stood in the front-most courtyard of the palace—it was specifically stated, in the terms of the wager, that he would be the one to destiny it. The main entrance of the palace cut through that courtyard, right past that statue, which stood proudly among beds of carefully cultivated flowers. During demolition, Atem actually had to post a guard to assure concerned passersby that the whole affair was authorized by the Pharaoh himself. Bakura, for his part, bashed away at the stone effigy until it was gravel, with little regard for his own dignity as he laughed and danced around on the rubble like a demonic child. 

"They... did a great job with your... abs..." Ryou murmured, staring up at the newly-carved statue of the Thief King. Bakura grinned haughtily beside him. 

"I'll have to walk through my own courtyard with my eyes closed..." Atem mumbled, face hidden in the crook of his arm. 

"Pharaoh, we can see this courtyard from our bedroom window," Yugi pointed out dryly. 

"My broad shoulders make for a far more impressive statue than your delicate frame," Bakura said, admiring the statue from a slightly different angle. "I made a good choice of outfit, too, when I was modeling for this, don't you think?" 

"Very good choice," Ryou murmured. 

"I'm glad I asked them to include Dia, curled over my shoulder like that. Adds a bit more grander to the thing, don't you think?" 

"They did do a great job," Yugi commented. "Our artists are quite something." 

"Aah..." The Pharaoh gave a soft groan of agony; Yugi patted his arm. 

"What did you bet, to get Pharaoh to put up this type of wager?" Yugi asked Bakura curiously, and the Thief King laughed—a touch nervously. 

"That doesn't matter, little pharaoh-ling, because I didn't lose." 

"You got lucky," Atem snarled venomously. "If you had lost—" 

"But I didn't lose," Bakura said quickly. "And now there's a statue of me in your manicured courtyard—right where the Pharaoh’s statue should be, by rights." 

Atem huffed. "And you better make a fine offering to every god you know, in gratitude." 

"And you better enjoy the new view, Pharaoh," Bakura said, gesturing again toward his statue with a grin. 

Atem grimaced.

[thosewhoruleegypt]

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden (2 - 10)

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden is a collection of oneshots and drabbles within the TwRE-verse; Ancient Egypt AU. Each can be read separately, but they’ll make more sense with context~ Part II happens after What Followed the High Priest Home.

Main Story Begins Here! Also available on AO3~ Previous Chapter - Next Chapter 

Part II; Chapter 10 In which the King of Thieves teaches the Great Royal Husband his trade 500 words; rated T

“There’s no lock I can’t foil!” Bakura announced one day—upon casually breaking into Yugi and Atem’s room in the middle of the afternoon. While Atem looked duly affronted, glaring over from where he sat at his desk, Yugi hopped up off the bed and moved to meet the King of Thieves.

“How did you do that?” he asked, and Atem made a small, distressed little sound.

Bakura grinned; knelt. “Step into the Court of the Thief King, dear pharaoh-ling.” Yugi knelt beside him, and Bakura gave his wrist a little flick; a piece of metal dropped from his sleeve into his palm, and placed it into Yugi's hand. “Take a look. I’m never without a couple of these little beauties.”

Yugi examined the object—nothing more than a shard of metal, like a needle for sewing, with one end slightly bent. “How does it work?”

Bakura had produced a second one, by then, and motioned to the lock on the door. “Slip it in, like this... and then feel around... for... where it hooks.” There was an audible click, and Bakura twisted his wrist; the lock turned, the bolt snapping out into open air. “Like that. Your door is a bit trickier than most, even, but it’s not that hard if you’ve got the right tool.”

“So the genius of the Thief King is reliant on his tools?” Atem asked derisively, from where he still sat at his desk. Bakura drew his lip back.

“My fingers used to be small enough to do the trick, but that was a long time ago. The great thing about these little picks, though, is you can make them out of most anything.” Bakura let the tool drop back into his sleeve. He pulled out a knife; slipped a chain from around his neck, and used the knife’s tip to pry one of the links open. Within a few seconds, he’d straightened, whittled, and re-bent the chain link into one of his little tools. He flicked it at Atem, who ducked.

“Nice party trick,” Atem said dryly, straightening again and crossing his arms. “But I’ve never heard of any guards who let you keep a gold chain and a dagger.”

“First of all, guards miss things all the damn time, especially things as small as this,” Bakura said. “Second of all, it takes a bit more time, but any scrap of metal will do, and any sharp edge will work just fine as a whittle.”

Atem grimaced, then looked over when Yugi gave an excited little yelp. He’d gotten the bolt to slide back into the door, and beamed at Bakura.

“I got it!”

“Well done, pharaoh-ling,” the Thief King crooned. “With how skilled you are at puzzles, I expected no less.” When Yugi tried to hand him the pick back, Bakura shook his head. “No telling when you’ll need one.”

“Don’t teach my husband your criminal tricks,” Atem said flatly, turning back to the work on his desk.

“And if my criminal tricks save his life, one day?” Bakura asked.

“Then I’ll owe you my soul,” Atem answered, without hesitation. “Doesn’t mean I approve.”

[thosewhoruleegypt]

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden (2 - 11)

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden is a collection of oneshots and drabbles within the TwRE-verse; Ancient Egypt AU. Each can be read separately, but they’ll make more sense with context~ Part II happens after What Followed the High Priest Home.

Main Story Begins Here! Also available on AO3~ Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Part II; Chapter 11 In which Priest Seto greatly overestimates his own abilities 1500 words; rated T

a/n: Forgot to post this here, whoops!! 

It started with a smart remark—as did most inter-palace drama, if the truth was to be told.

"It must be nice to have underlings to fight your battles for you."

High Priest Seto swung about the courtyard, trying to locate the source of the voice. When it wasn't readily apparent, he called, "Show yourself, coward thief!"

"Have you ever relied on your own strength?" came the voice again, and Seto stalked first one way, then the other; checked behind a cluster of bushes. "Or just had your loyal underlings deal with any trouble?”

"At least I don't hide my face in my own damn palace!" Seto spat, spinning again with a swish of his expensive robes. He yelped when Bakura swung into view, hanging inverted from a tree branch.

"At least I don't yowl like a dog when something startles me," the Thief King said, and the High Priest straightened indignantly.

"You're all posturing, thief. Depending on cheep tricks to get the better of anyone you don't like."

"Are you saying I'm all talk?" the Thief King asked, with mock surprise. He dropped down from his tree; landed on his hands, and swirled smoothly up onto his feet. "Gutsy thing to say, especially for someone who acts so gutless most of the time."

Seto threw the first punch; Bakura was unprepared, but dodged to the side with a soft, "Whoa, there!" Seto lunged again; as Bakura moved to block, he struck suddenly from the other side, landing a solid punch that sent the Thief King skidding several inches backwards.

"Let's see you talk so provocatively with a broken jaw," the High Priest sneered, as Bakura wiped a drizzle of blood from his chin.

"Better shot than I expected..." the Thief King growled. "But if you think I'll just take it—!”

Bakura lunged, drilling a fist into the underside of Seto's rib-cage. The High Priest wheezed, but grabbed Bakura's shoulders and wrenched him off-balance; tangled their feet, and so sent then both crashing to the ground. They rolled over once, twice; the Thief King managed to get on top and punched Seto in the face once, twice.

"Hey! Hey! Damn it, Bakura! Seto!"

The Thief King looked up at the shout, and the High Priest took the opportunity to ram his knee up into Bakura's stomach. The Thief King gasped as he lost his breath, and Seto—with superior height—threw himself up and flipped their positions. Bakura, upon finding himself pinned, grabbed the front of the High Priest’s shirt and smashed their foreheads together. Seto reeled and Bakura grabbed his shoulders; wrenched him sideways and into the sandy turf.

"Gods damn you both!" Pharaoh Atem was still shouting, and when Bakura sprang up Atem immediately placed himself between the two men. Seto, slower, staggered to his feet and raised his fists. "Stop it! Both of you!"

Bakura was grinning—a wild, slightly open-mouthed grin, breath huffing in and out between his teeth, heedless of the blood still dripping from his mouth. "Oh, no fun, Horus, no fun!" he wined, and made a feint towards Seto. The High Priest jumped, but Pharaoh Atem didn't budge.

"Stop it!" Atem repeated furiously, and then turned to his cousin. "I expected better from you! My High Priest, brawling in my front courtyard of all places?"

Seto grimaced; staggered, a bit, and shook his head as though dizzy. "I... sorry, my cousin... Pharaoh..."

"How hard did you hit him?" Atem asked Bakura, who shrugged.

"No harder'n he hit me."

"Oh... Bastet, why are there two of you, now?!" Seto demanded, pointing at Bakura and again lurching to one side.

"Damn it, Bakura..." Atem muttered.

"Oh, it went from 'damn both of you' to just 'damn it, Bakura?'" the Thief King asked, making an effort to look hurt. "How unfair, Pharaoh..."

"He's no fighter!" Atem said, with an exasperated motion at Seto.

Bakura gestured to his jaw—swelling now, visibly. "Could've fooled me."

"He got in a lucky shot," Atem said flatly, and Seto glared blearily at him.

"Don't underestimate me, Cousin..."

Atem fixed him with a baleful look. "Don't go trying to brawl with experienced fighters, then. A crooked nose wouldn't suit you."

Seto looked mildly alarmed at that proposition; staggered again, suddenly, and Atem caught his arm. A concerned huddle of palace-folk had formed, by then, and Atem handed the High Priest off to a servant.

"Make sure he goes straight to the healers," the Pharaoh told the girl, who nodded seriously. Then Atem turned to Bakura; jerked his head. "Walk with me."

"What, I don't get to go see the healers?"

"You'll survive."

The palace-folk took their cue; left the Pharaoh and the Thief King to themselves. They wove together through the carefully cultivated gardens in silence, the late summer sun warming their backs.

"He threw the first punch," Bakura said, without preamble.

"Hmm."

"Sorry if we wrecked any of your flowers."

Atem sighed. "Flowers are flowers. They'll grow back."

"Sorry. It got out of hand."

Atem shrugged. "I'm not upset. It just worries me that you two are on such earnestly bad terms. And I know," he added, when Bakura began to speak, "that it's all in good fun, to you. But not to him. Seto might really take your head off, if given half a chance."

"He couldn't."

"He could. He killed both our fathers, you know. Poisoned them."

Bakura blinked. "Oh. Gods, no, I didn't know that. I'm... sorry?"

"It isn't exactly common knowledge. For obvious reasons."

"Obviously not."

"It was in defense of me," Atem said, with a hint of a smile, "so I'm in no position to complain, but my cousin is capable of murder. And if he gets it into his head that you're a threat, to him or to me, he might just take matters into his own hands. That's what I'm nervous about."

"Poison, huh...?"

"He knows I'd be rather cross," Atem continued, "but my disapproval will only stop him to a point. If you agitate him enough, I can't guarantee how he'll act."

"Poison doesn't really work on me," Bakura said, after a moment. "But I'll keep an eye out for knives in my bed."

"Do that."

"His namesake suits him."

"Set..." Atem murmured, and then nodded. "Unfortunately so. But with one very important difference—he supports me, as pharaoh.

"Sure. He supports you so well that he ran off to play with the god cards for how long? Almost a year, right?"

"I've never feared that he might try to take the throne," Atem said, with a sigh. "And he's back, now. It was hard, for us both."

"You're too generous, Horus. And don't you dare take that as a compliment, because it's not."

Atem smiled grimly. "Perhaps... but he's my brother. And a far better brother than Set to Horus, in the legends."

"The legends set a pretty low standard, if that's your basis for comparison."

"Seto has his troubles. But I could count on him, if I needed. I would bet my life on that."

Bakura sighed; shook his head and shrugged. "You know him better than I do..."

"I do. But do watch yourself a bit more, around him. A crooked jaw wouldn't suit you any more than a crooked nose would suit him."

"You don't think it'd add to my dangerous look?" Bakura asked, grinning.

"I think the scar does just fine," Atem said, glancing over. "Besides, Ryou would be very upset."

"You're right about that... aah, he's going to be upset enough about this..." Bakura rubbed his jaw.

"Go to the healers now." Atem gave a dismissive wave. "They'll be able to bring the swelling down."

"Sorry."

"It's fine. Just don't let it happen again."

"Now be sure you lecture your good cousin with just as much authority, okay?"

Atem narrowed his eyes. "My authority has never worked on either of you. I know the best I can do is ask you both to be civil, as a favor."

... ... ...

"... Bakura..." Pharaoh Atem began.

"Hmm?"

"Would you like to tell me why you're wearing Seto's headdress?"

Bakura looked up from his seat on one of the courtyard benches, the headdress in question slipping slightly to the side. "Why, it has a serpent on it, and one that quite resembles Diabound, too. I supposed that made it mine, actually."

Atem massaged his forehead with one hand. "I asked you... please..."

"I don't owe you any favors, Pharaoh."

Atem was drawing breath when he was cut off by a far angrier, indignant shout of, "You wretched thief!" and Bakura sprang to his feet.

"You'll have to forgive me, Lord Horus! Another time!" He waved, then darted off through the garden, one hand clutching the headdress.

Atem stepped obligingly out of the way as his High Priest gave furious chase, albeit with a shout of, "Apologies, Cousin! Pardon me!" and then vanished from sight after Bakura.

The Pharaoh considered his options for a moment, then sunk down onto the bench and cradled his head in his hands.

[thosewhoruleegypt]

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden (2 - 7)

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden is a collection of oneshots and drabbles within the TwRE-verse; Ancient Egypt AU. Each can be read separately, but they’ll make more sense with context~ Part II happens after What Followed the High Priest Home.

Main Story Begins Here! Also available on AO3~ Previous Chapter - Next Chapter 

Part II; Chapter 7 In which Ryou’s white hair is discussed at length  1700 words; rated M (warnings for soft-core and some language) 

a/n: Follow-up to this post about Ryou’s hair.  You guys remember the first time Ryou and Bakura met, don't you? sooo long ago, my gods... SUGGESTED LISTENING 

"Come... to... bed...!" 

Thief King Bakura leaned off the edge of the canopied bed, one hand waving in a futile attempt to attract Ryou's attention. Ryou could see him in the bronze mirror, but didn't direct his gaze away from his own reflection. 

"Just a minute, my King..." He gave a particularly snarled bit of hair several quick flicks with his brush, then returned to the long strokes he favored. 

Bakura rolled onto his back; slid a bit further off the bed. "Your hair is fine..." he said. "It's gorgeous. It's beautiful! Please come to bed. I'll tangle it up again, just so you can spend all night combing it out again!" 

"Sand is difficult to get out," was Ryou's reply, and Bakura gave a disgruntled grumble. "Give me just a minute." 

With careful, thorough brushing, Ryou rid his silken white hair of the dreaded desert sand. The more time he spent in the palace, the more meticulous about such things he became. He appreciated how soft his hair had become, recently, and hated the idea that it picked up dirt and debris so easily. 

When at last he turned his attention to Bakura, the Thief King was lying face-down, arms dangling over the bed's edge. When Ryou climbed up beside him, though, he rolled over. 

"I was nearly asleep... I was nearly dead," Bakura said, but smiled when Ryou leaned over to kiss him. "I love you. You're beautiful. Your hair. Your eyes. Your skin. Your whole body..." 

"Stop it..." Ryou murmured, swinging one leg over Bakura's hips so he sat straddling them. He removed articles of clothing hastily, as if making up for the delay. Again he leaned down to kiss the Thief King, stripped him of his robes as well, and breathed, "I wasn't always. Did you love me then, too?" 

Bakura chuckled. "You were always beautiful... even then..." 

"I might have been a pretty thing, once, isn't that what you said?" 

"Good memory. Too good." 

"I'll never forget the first time I heard your voice." 

"Isfet... was that really the first thing I ever said to you?" Bakura's hands wandered up Ryou's thighs as he spoke; meandered across hips and lower back. 

"That and something about selling me off, if I'd been in better shape..." Ryou murmured, between kisses. 

"Shit... I really fucked that one up, didn't I?" 

Ryou laughed, lightly. "And I still fell in love with you." 

"And I with you." 

When Thief King Bakura had first brought Ryou back to his hideout, he'd been unsure if the small boy would live. He told himself it didn't matter; convinced himself that it wouldn't bother him if the kid did die, after all. 

"I shouldn't've cared..." Bakura murmured, wrapping his arms around Ryou's shoulders. Ryou, surprised, paused in his own affections. "Shouldn't've..."

"Hmm?" 

"When your hair..." Bakura pulled Ryou down closer; buried his face in the plush white, and murmured, "Your hair was so pretty. It was all scraggly, though. I thought it was brown, too, it was so filthy... but I washed it out... and it was so pretty... but I... thought..." 

Ryou made a questioning sound, but Bakura didn't respond. His grip on Ryou tightened further, and Ryou fell still; allowed himself to be held. 

When Thief King Bakura had first given the foundling a much-needed bath—though apprehensive about the possibility of him catching a chill—he’d been surprised to find that Ryou had exotically pale skin, beneath the layer of grime that had accrued. But even more startling had been his pure white hair, revealed after a thorough scrubbing—which had stained Bakura’s own nails brown—and several rinses. The Thief King’s first reaction had been awe—What a stunning creature he’d found! Though the boy was in poor condition, currently, it hadn't been difficult for Bakura to envision what he would look like, when restored to health. 

But white hair... pretty white hair, thinned and made coarse by hardship... white hair... 

Bakura remembered the cold terror he'd felt, when it had first occurred to him. He remembered the way his insides had constricted when he'd realized that starvation often led to the whitening of hair; he remembered the way his hands had started to shake when he realized that the very trait he was admiring could well be a sign of exactly how close to death the boy, Ryou, was. He had withdrawn, physically, lest Ryou feel his trembling, while the boy sat listlessly in the bath. 

"Were you born with it? With your hair that color?"

The Thief King had scraped together the courage to ask it, one day not long after. He had dreaded the answer. 

But Ryou had replied, "Yes! Unusual isn't it? Why?"

And Bakura had been able to smile; say, "I was just wondering. It's beautiful, you know," because his fears were without substance. He'd flipped Ryou gently onto his stomach, then—Ryou, still far too weak to effectively move about on his own. Ryou had squeaked in surprise, and stiffened when Bakura had buried his face in that thin, pretty white hair—nuzzled through it to kiss the crook of Ryou's neck. His hands massaged the wasted and aching muscles of the boy's back, seeking to relieve the pain there. 

"Is this okay...?" he had breathed, close to Ryou's ear. 

"It's okay, Thief King..."

With the memory drawn powerfully into his mind, Bakura flipped their positions on the plush palace bedding. Ryou, who'd been drifting to sleep against his chest, squeaked in surprise. 

"I love you..." Bakura growled, and then turned Ryou onto his stomach; asked, with his face pressed into lush white hair, "Is this okay?" as he lifted Ryou's hips with one hand. 

"Gods, you don't have to ask that every time..." Ryou mumbled, fidgeting expectantly; shifting from side to side, lifting himself slightly and pushing backwards. 

Bakura chuckled. "Forgive me, my love..." and he ran his fingers languidly through Ryou's hair; tangled them, there, and pulled gently to raise Ryou's head; murmured, close to his ear, "I love you... I love you... I loved you long before I was supposed to love you..." 

Ryou made a soft, questioning sound that lapsed into a whine of pleasure as Bakura reached around his waist; Ryou buried his face in the pillow, lest that whine become a scream. 

I thought it wouldn't matter... if you died... Bakura thought, relishing the feeling of Ryou's healthy body beneath him; breathing in the sweet floral scent that clung to his lush, dazzling white hair. 

The day—the hour—that they had met, the Thief King had crouched, uncertain, beside the poor thing as it lost consciousness. He had stared at the golden trinket left in his hand, and wondered what to do. 

How much will it hurt... he had wondered, if I take this kid in... and then he dies? How much will it hurt if I try to save him, and it doesn’t work?

That fear had almost been enough to make him rise; turn; walk away, and not look back to see if the pitiful thing had already stopped breathing. 

But he'd wavered, instead, and thought, Ryou... 

He'd asked for the boy's name, and Ryou had given it to him. 

So the Thief King had picked Ryou up; felt the almost imperceptible weight of the boy's body, and smelled the same rot-scent that had clung to himself, for so many years. He had found himself frozen, there, holding Ryou like some fragile treasure. And he was, Bakura decided then—he was a treasure, to be stolen and to be kept and to be cherished. 

Why have you given him to me...? he had asked, of no god in particular, as he craned his head back to look at the sky. Why now, when I've scarcely got the will to keep myself living...?

No answer had been forthcoming, and so the Thief King had sighed; shrugged his robe off of his shoulders and used it to wrap his newest treasure—to conceal him, on the way to the most secret of the Thief King's hideouts. All along, had he told himself that it wouldn't matter if Ryou died, after all. He told himself that the boy probably would die, after all. 

At least he wouldn't die on the filthy streets, though. That, the Thief King had thought, would be some mercy, at least. And in that thought, buried so deep that he couldn’t detect it in order to deny it, was the hope that Ryou wouldn’t die at all. 

Ryou cried out softly, bringing Thief King Bakura back to the present. He blinked; marveled at the fact that that scrap of skin and bone he had picked up that day had become the gorgeous creature he was lucky enough to now be atop. He let himself slide across the inside of Ryou's thigh, hand moving gently and deliberately. Ryou's back arched, and neither shoulder blades nor spine looked like they might tear through. His skin, indeed, was flushed and soft; supple, no longer like over-dried papyrus beneath the pads of Bakura's fingers. 

One hand still tangled in Ryou's hair, the other moving low and rhythmically, Bakura kissed the crook of Ryou's neck; kissed his shoulder, and breathed, "I love you... I love you so much... You're so beautiful... so beautiful... you've always been... always...!" 

Ryou cried out; sobbed quietly, the sound muffled by a mouthful of blankets. He shuttered; convulsed, and Bakura held him steady. 

"I love you... I love you..." the Thief King breathed, again and then again. "I love you... I love you..." 

As Ryou quieted, he slumped to the bed; Bakura eased him down. After a moment, though, Ryou rolled over onto his back; fixed the Thief King with a half-lidded, coy gaze. His mouth was open slightly as he caught his breath. 

"I love you, too..." Ryou breathed, tipping his head back. "I love you... I adore you... I worship you..." 

Bakura chuckled; leaned down and lavished kisses across Ryou's chest. Ryou wrapped his legs around the Thief King's hips, grinding upwards. 

"I love you... I live for you... Please, my King... take me... steal me away..." 

"As my love commands. I am yours."

[thosewhoruleegypt]

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden (2 - 5)

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden is a collection of oneshots and drabbles within the TwRE-verse; Ancient Egypt AU. Each can be read separately, but they’ll make more sense with context~ Part II happens after What Followed the High Priest Home.

Main Story Begins Here! Also available on AO3~ Previous Chapter - Next Chapter 

Part II; Chapter 5 In which the Thief King gets drunk at a banquet and calls out the Pharaoh for his singing voice 1000 words; rated T

a/n: Apologies for the inactivity! *bows*  This one happens prior to Priest Seto’s return to the palace. 

Having the Thief King present at political banquets made a powerful statement, for Pharaoh Atem. The Thief King understood this, and besides the occasional quipping or petty thievery, he made a point of behaving at such events. In return, he was allowed to sit on Atem's left—Yugi, of course, sat on Atem's right—and Ryou sat either beside him or beside the Royal Husband, depending on the social context. Ryou, even more so than his King, realized the importance of such events and was always on his very best behavior.

Unfortunately, wine was an integral part of such banquets. Also unfortunately, Ryou Bakura couldn't monitor it's flow as closely as he'd like to whenever he was seated beside Yugi.

"Everyone, everyone, if I could have your attention for—for just a moment."

Atem's face lost a bit of its color as Bakura raised his voice in an entirely non-Pharaoh-approved address, swaying slightly as he stood up. Atem gave Yugi a mental prod without taking his eyes off the Thief King.

"Partner, what's he doing? What in Ra's great name is he doing?"

Yugi, in turn, whispered frantically to Ryou. The Thief King's husband could only shake his head, looking notably concerned—almost as concerned as Atem.

"The Pharaoh... he's a great guy," the Thief King said, when the table had quieted slightly. "I don't think there's a person here who'd argue with that, right?"

There was a lukewarm, somewhat confused murmur of agreement from the gathering.

"Should we stop him? What exactly is happening, right now?" Atem demanded, even as Yugi and Ryou exchanged troubled whispers.

"The Pharaoh... is a great guy," Bakura said again, and a few people close enough to see exactly how badly he was swaying started to chuckle. "I mean—I’m here! I’m alive! So I should know that better than any one of you soft, high-bred bastards who’s never once feared for your worthless, sand-encrusted lives, right? The Pharaoh is a great guy.”

Atem's face was gaining color, now, instead of losing it—ruddy, furious, embarrassed color. A few of the more serious (less drunk) nobles looked distinctly offended, even if a few of the less serious (more drunk) ones were shouting agreement or encouragement.

"But you guys know what the Pharaoh did last night?" Bakura continued, a wicked grin curling his lips. He raised his glass, even as Pharaoh Atem stood; realized what was about to happen a second too late to stop it. "He had a little too much to drink, as we all have at one time or another, and he started singing. And, much to my surprise, the Pharaoh is not only a great guy, but he's a great singer. Like, god on earth, folks, and the voice of a god, too—like, voice of a god. I think he should sing for us now, don't you? Shouldn't the Pharaoh treat his loyal followers to a divine serenade?"

There was a chorus of laughter and shouts of approval from the table, even as Atem wilted back into his chair and Ryou covered his face with his hands. Yugi patted Atem's shoulder and Ryou's back—simultaneously, and so a bit awkwardly on both accounts. Bakura grinned down at the Pharaoh as the gathering grew more insistent.

"What do you say, Pharaoh Horus? Your adoring followers await."

"This snake!” Atem spat, for Yugi's ears only.

"It could be worse..." Yugi offered. "You could... you know, not have a wonderful voice..."

"You've never heard me sing, Yugi."

"... Oh gods."

"Yugi, you've never heard me sing."

"You mean Bakura is lying...?!"

"Not about hearing me sing last night, he's not..."

"Oh Ra..."

Bakura's grin widened as the banquet guests continued to urge their Pharaoh on. "How about it?" the Thief King called, to the trembling musicians. "How about 'Dirge for Osiris?' That's a great song to sing along to!"

It wasn't—it was well-known, but also a beautiful, dramatic song that required range and volume to carry off. Atem's face paled, and the musicians exchanged nervous, uncertain looks.

"The Pharaoh is a god, after all, isn't he?" Bakura crooned; took an unnecessary drink of his wine—evading the grab that Ryou made for the glass, from across the table. "He can give us a little song, if he's not frightened."

"Pharaoh, you don't have to..."

"Well, now I do," Atem replied bitterly. "He's going back to the dungeons for this, I swear to Ra..."

Atem stood slowly; stiffly. He held up his wine glass in what appeared to be a toast—an excuse, clearly, to drain it immediately thereafter. He motioned somewhat jerkily to the musicians as Bakura sat back down—clapping, and indeed igniting a brief flare of applause from about the table. The musicians, after another uncertain moment, started up the well-known song—the harpist taking the lyrical lead and the others following.

"Pharaoh..."

"Please don't think less of me, my love."

And then, Atem began to sing:

"Rent apart, body and soul, by the cruel Desert...  We search... we search... With beautiful Isis, we search... To bring you home... honored, beloved Lord... So you might, in turn, someday guide us home."

Yugi's breath stalled as the Pharaoh's voice—though with a slight, scarcely perceivable tremble to it—filled the banquet hall sonorously. It was with the utmost precision and skill that he hit each note; enunciated each lyric. His hands, visible to Yugi, were shaking far worse than his voice as the table fell to stunned, reverent silence.

"Gods above..." Ryou breathed; Bakura, across the table, was nodding sagely, looking sinfully pleased with himself.

As the song ended, Atem bowed briefly; sunk back down into his seat with all the dignity he could manage. Cheers and congratulations swelled up around him, but he waved them off with only a cursory graciousness.

"Oh, my poor, dear underlings... lying for my benefit..."

"Pharaoh, what are you talking about? That was beautifully!"

"Oh, partner, not you too, please..."

"Pharaoh, you sing wonderfully!"

"Please don't lie to me... this is too much..."

“Pharaoh, that was gorgeous!" Ryou exclaimed softly, oblivious to his timing. He was surprised when Atem replied with only a baleful look.

"And even little Ryou, too... it's too much, Yugi..."

Yugi chuckled, then, because his Pharaoh—Egypt's earthly god—had no idea how he ridiculous he sounded; how beautiful his voice was, in truth. And Bakura, taking the liberty of pouring the Pharaoh more wine as he refilled his own glass, added his own due compliments to the chorus.

[thosewhoruleegypt]

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden (2 - 4)

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden is a collection of oneshots and drabbles within the TwRE-verse; Ancient Egypt AU. Each can be read separately, but they’ll make more sense with context~ Part II happens after What Followed the High Priest Home.

Main Story Begins Here! Also available on AO3~ Previous Chapter - Next Chapter (coming soon~)

Part II; Chapter 4 In which Atem meets with the lover who lives in his dreams 900 words; rated T

The Pharaoh of Egypt sat at his desk, pensively combing through his carefully spiked hair. He thought of his duties; of his people. He thought of his cousin, the High Priest of Egypt, and of his late father. 

He thought of the young woman he had been presented with, that day, as a possible suitor—thought of her wealthy, influential father, and frowned. He thought of the expectations placed upon him, as Pharaoh, and scowled as his comb got caught. 

He wondered how anyone—his cousin, or his servants, or his long-deceased father—would react if he told them that he was in love. They might be receptive to the idea, but only until he told them who he was in love with. 

Pharaoh Atem had a lover who visited him only in dreams—a lover whose name he didn’t know, whose face he struggled to recall, when he woke, and whose existence he doubted on a very regular basis. 

The Pharaoh gave a small sigh; set his comb down and rose, smoothing out his nightclothes and extinguishing the candles about his room. Then, with only the silver moonlight to see by, he crawled into his bed—soft, cooled in the summer and warned in the winter by his magicians—and closed his eyes. 

Atem came to on a stone pathway. Behind him, it stretched out into pitch darkness; if he followed it, he knew, he'd come upon the dusty room where his own soul dwelt. But he had no desire to go there. Instead, he walked off the sheer drop, where the path ended—walked into the purple fog beyond his own soul room, and kept walking, putting more and more distance between himself and his own reality. He was glad of the absence of jewelry and stifling silk, in this place; glad that his body was just that—his body, unadorned and, in so much, unidentifiable as the body of the Pharaoh. 

He had no way of knowing, of course, if this violet murk was simply an extension of his own mind; if the lover he encountered there was simply a part of himself. It didn't matter, though. It didn't matter, not so long as—

"Yami!" 

"Hikari!" Atem's tension eased when the other called out to him—called out to him as "Yami," not as "Pharaoh" or even "Atem." The smaller boy approached quickly, almost running through the spectral mist, and Atem embraced him. He pressed his face into Hikari's hair—spiked, and tri-colored like his own, but coarser to the touch and streaked through with purple as opposed to the scarlet tones of Atem’s locks. Then he held Hikari out at arm's length, reminding himself, gratefully, what that gorgeous face looked like. 

"Yami—“ 

"I love you." Atem cut him off gently, pressing starved lips to Hikari's. The smaller boy obliged willingly, wrapping his arms around Atem's shoulders and pulling them closer together. 

I love you. I love you. I love you. Atem wondered how he had managed to exist before, without the feeling—without love. He loved all of Egypt, certainly, but this was something else entirely. This heat, passion, friction, intimacy—it wasn't something he could imagine giving up. It allowed him to surrender every part of himself, at least for a few stolen moments. 

Hikari gave a startled little squeak as he was pushed back; the mists around them solidified as they needed, and kept him from falling far. He pushed Atem back slightly, laughing faintly. "Impatient, tonight? Is it a special occasion?" 

"I just need you... so much..." Atem murmured, burying his face in the crook of Hikari's slim neck. The other gasped as he bit down roughly. 

"Ah—! Lucky thing... these marks aren't there when we wake up... right...?" 

Atem nodded, but was too busy to give the comment a proper answer. He didn't, besides, want to think about the waking world. He wanted to lose himself in the dream—in Hikari. He didn't want to be the Pharaoh, in that moment. He didn't even want to be Atem. 

Being Yami, to his Hikari, was enough. 

When both were thoroughly exhausted, trembling and spent, they lay together—Atem still languidly affectionate, stroking and kissing Hikari, unwilling to think about anything else. It was always hard to remember what his beloved looked like, when he woke, so he strove to etch every detail of Hikari's small body into his mind. 

"Yami?" 

Atem looked up. "What is it?" 

"Why do you love me?" 

"Because you're here for me, in this way. Because you're beautiful, and you're kind, and you're clever, and you're skilled, and you're generous, and you're—“ 

Hikari kissed him to stem the flow of adoration. When he drew back, Atem followed; kept their faces close together. 

"Because you're willing to love me, in return. Not even knowing who I am. Not knowing my bloodline, not knowing my social position, not knowing my—“ 

"I don't need to know any of those things," Hikari murmured, cutting him off again, gently. "I know you. That's more than enough." 

And Atem nearly wept, because it was so pure—something he needed, so desperately. Even if Hikari was merely a making of his own mind, if didn't matter. The love between them was real, at least in the world of dreams, and that was, as Hikari had said, more than enough. 

"You have saved me from the darkness of my own mind, my Light..." 

Hikari only smiled; kissed him, tenderly. "I love you, Yami." 

"Love you too... so much..."

[thosewhoruleegypt]

What Followed the High Priest Home (Chapter 5)

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!   Characters/Ships: Puzzleshipping/Blindshipping (Atem/Yugi); Gemshipping (Thief King Bakura/Ryou Bakura); Puppyshipping/Revertshipping (Priest Seto Kaiba/Jounochi); Atem, Yugi, Thief King Bakura, Ryou Bakura, Priest Seto Kaiba, Jounochi Katsuya Rating: M (WARNINGS for steamy fade-to-black moments, banter of a sexual nature, and some abuse of lotus wine) Length: Chapter 5 / 7; 2000 words

Summary:

Upon his homecoming, Priest Seto Kaiba certainly didn’t expect to find a statue of the Thief King in the middle of the palace courtyard, right where the Pharaoh’s statue ought to be. He also didn’t expect the stray puppy he picked up on his travels to follow him all the way home.

In the meantime, the Great Royal Husband, Yugi Mutou, makes a new friend, one Jounochi Katsuya, and Pharaoh Atem wonders when the power dynamics around his palace got so difficult to navigate.

Sequel to “For Love of Pharaoh and King;” “The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden—Part I” accounts for the time between the two works. Can be read separately, but will make more sense with context.

Full Story Begins Here! Read on AO3 Previous Chapter – Next Chapter 

Chapter Five: Rematch 

High Priest Kaiba Seto laughed—a sardonic, slightly relieved laugh. "Your draw is off today, Pharaoh? Is that why you've been playing so poorly?" 

"Apologies, Cousin," Atem said seriously, as he discarded the four Exodia pieces. "I won't disappoint you further." 

Yugi looked willingly at Atem's new hand, when the Pharaoh offered him a peek. "Pharaoh!"

"Yes, Partner. The cards haven't abandoned me yet." "I summon Magician's Valkyria, in defense position!" 

"That's our Horus!" Bakura cheered. "Comeback starts now!" 

"I end my turn!" Atem called. "Come, Brother—let's have a proper duel!" 

Seto Kaiba smirked; drew a card. "I know that spirit, Cousin... I've missed dueling against that fighting spirit!" He pointed. "Blue-Eyes attacks your Magician's Valkyria!" The spellcaster shrieked quietly as she was destroyed, but Atem didn't cringe. Seto folded his arms. "Your move!" 

"I draw!" Atem announced. "I activate my set card, Black Magic Ritual, and tribute two monsters from my hand—Dark Magician and Archfiend of Gilfer, to summon Magician of Black Chaos!" 

The air of the duel field grew thick with magic, and the imposing spellcaster materialized before the Pharaoh, it's staff held at the ready. 

"Then, I activate the spell card Ascending Soul to return one tributed monster, Dark Magician, to my hand." The card re-materialized, and Atem tucked it into his hand. "Finally, Magician of Black Chaos attacks!" 

"But Blue-Eyes still has 3000 attack!" Jounochi exclaimed. 

Yugi, breathless, shook his head. "Not anymore..." 

"Tch!" Seto threw up his arms as Magician of Black Chaos struck his Blue-Eyes White Dragon, which shimmered like a shattered gem as it vanished into his graveyard. The High Priest's life points dropped to 3700. "Well-played, Cousin." 

"What just happened?!" Jounochi demanded. 

"Archfiend of Gilfer was sent to Pharaoh's graveyard, as part of the ritual summon," Yugi explained. "When it's in the graveyard, it's effect activates." 

"It lowered that little dragon's attack to 2500," Bakura said, with a grin. "Well-played indeed, Pharaoh." 

"I only have one card left in my hand, though..." Atem said to Yugi, and said aloud, "I end my turn!" 

Seto drew a card; considered his hand. "Very well, my Pharaoh. My spell is Swords of Revealing Light! Let's both take a moment to regroup, shall we?" 

"He's trying to break your momentum... but it won't work..." Yugi commented, and Atem nodded. 

"Right. We'll both be able to make use of these three turns, I think."

Seto held up a card. "I summon Mirage Dragon, to defend! I end my turn." 

"Time to bring out Obelisk, Kaiba!" Jounochi yelled. 

The High Priest glared over at him. "My strategies are my business, Pup." 

"I draw!" Atem added a card to his hand; said, "I end my turn!" 

"Draw!" Kaiba announced, and smiled. "I summon La Jinn the Mystical Genie of the Lamp, to defend! I end my turn." 

"Two monsters..." Yugi murmured, and Atem nodded. 

"Worry not, Partner. I won't bow, before Kaiba or God." "I draw!" Atem considered his hand. "I summon Mystical Elf, to defend. I end my turn." 

Priest Seto drew a card; smiled a cold smile. "Enjoy your last turn, Pharaoh. I summon Hitotsu Me Giant, to defend. I end my turn."

Ryou shivered violently; whispered to Yugi, "Such suspense!" 

Yugi nodded, feeling the change like a sudden reduction of breathable air. "Priest Seto... he drew it, just now." 

"The god card..." Jounochi murmured, then shouted, "You've got this, Kaiba!" 

The Thief King alone, of the audience, remained impassive, his eyes fixed on Atem as he drew his own card. 

The Pharaoh smiled. 

"Ah... haha... hahaha!"

"Pharaoh?" 

"What a cruel card that bastard thief has given me... I almost don't have the heart... against my own High Priest..."

Yugi glanced up at Bakura as the Pharaoh set two cards; ended his turn. The Thief King was grinning. 

Seto drew his card, and then announced, "Swords of Revealing Light vanishes!" The whole field shimmered as the spell dispersed. "Now, Pharaoh, prepare yourself! You may be the Earthly God of Egypt, but I'll show you a true god, now! 

"Come, Obelisk the Tormentor!" 

The three monsters on the High Priest's side of the field evaporated, and the castle gave an ominous creak above them as the imposing god manifested. Atem took a step back for stability, then held up his hand. 

"I activate my set card: the trap card, Torrential Tribute!"

Priest Seto's eyes widened marginally. "Traps and spells can't—" 

"They can't target a god," the Pharaoh said, and the Thief King nodded. "Torrential Tribute doesn't target. It simply destroys all monsters on the field, indiscriminately." 

"That's not possible..." Priest Seto breathed. "That means... Obelisk..." 

The god roared as a cyclone sprang to life in the palace basement—a cyclone which claimed first Mystic Elf and Magician of Black Chaos, then slammed into the god. Obelisk's roar seemed to morph from threat to objection; it struggling for a moment against the trap, and then shattered into nothingness, it's shards showering down over the High Priest. 

"Then, I activate my second set card, Magician Navigation!" Atem announced. "It allows me to special summon one Dark Magician from my hand, and one level seven or lower spellcaster from my deck! Come out—Dark Magician and Dark Magician Girl!" 

The two spellcasters materialized; hovered, before Pharaoh Atem, awaiting his orders, Black Magician with its 2500 attack points and Black Magician Girl's upped to 2300 by Magician of Black Chaos in the graveyard.

"It's still your turn, Cousin!" Atem called over. "Do you have anything to play?" 

Seto grit his teeth; gazed down at his hand. He said, with reluctance, "I set two cards, and end my turn." 

"Here I come, then!" Atem called; drew a card, and then called, "Black Magician, Black Magician Girl—attack!" 

"I flip my set card—Powerful Rebirth!" Seto called. "I resurrect Luster Dragon, in defense position!" 

Dark Magician's attack struck Luster Dragon, shattering it. But, even as the draconic form was fading, Dark Magician Girl soared past the battle and struck Seto Kaiba directly, a blinding flash of black magic burning off 2300 of his life points—dropping them to 1400. Priest Seto's mouth opened, but he didn't cry out; his eyes widened, back arching with the pain, and an immersive memory obscured his vision. 

"Beat me, Cousin, and I'll tell you my secret—if I beat you, however, you'll tell me yours." 

Each young man knew exactly what secrets were to be divulged, if the other won the game. The newly-ordained High Priest wanted to know why Atem so staunchly refused to court any suitors. The newly-crowned Pharaoh wanted to know what role Seto had played in the deaths of both their fathers. 

It had been Dark Magician which had dealt the final blow—a direct attack that had obliterated Seto Kaiba's remaining life points. The High Priest fell to his knees, robes rustling as they fluttered down around him, and he had looked up only when Atem's feet had appeared before him. 

"Please, Cousin... my Pharaoh..." Kaiba felt his pride break, like a fractured bone; heard the snap of it as he bent his head. "Brother, please..." 

"Tell me, Seto." 

Seto Kaiba shook his head; refused. He heard the tears choking his cousin when Atem spoke again. 

"As your Pharaoh... Seto, I command you..." 

Seto felt the words like a physical blow to the back; as if he'd just been whipped. He kept his silence. 

Atem's voices rose, desperate, now. "We played with this wager! Seto, you lair! Don't make me act against you, as Pharaoh! Honor your own word! Do not test me!" 

"Then I... beg you, Cousin... Brother..." Seto ground out, forearms pressed to the ground and head down. "Please, please do not demand this of me!" 

"The terms of our duel will be fulfilled! I would not plead and thrash so pitifully had I lost!" 

Priest Seto saw the tears hitting the ground, but any trace of them had vanished from Atem's voice. His voice was only that of the Pharaoh, powerful and unyielding, even if his face was that of an aggrieved son and brother. Seto did not look up to see that face. 

"It was meant... the poison was meant for my father alone, not yours..." The words were strangled, dragged from Seto like the confession of a condemned man. Then his voice rose, a feeble attempt at defense. "I had no way of knowing—!" 

Atem cut him off with a rough command for silence—a command that fell short of coherent words, yet the cousin still understood and obeyed. Then both men were on their knees, the victor sobbing into his hands and the looser trembling uncontrollably, rendered mute by the disgraceful confession. 

"Kaiba?" 

Seto Kaiba blinked, freed from one memory to be plunged straight into another. He was staring now not at the ground, but across a bed. Jounochi Katsuya, the stray dog, the man he'd grown inexplicably attached to, reached out across the span of their pillows. 

"You're crying?" Jounochi asked, his voice appropriately soft for the dead of night. Seto felt the roughened pads of his commoners' fingers brush tears from beneath his eye. "Great Anubis, you do that?" 

Seto reached up; took Jounochi's hand and squeezed it, then kissed it. "Go back to sleep, pup..." 

"Hey, hey, tell me what's wrong..." Jounochi said, scooting slightly across the bed. The High Priest didn't have the strength or will to push him away, and eventually Jounochi hugged him. "Tell me... it'll help, I swear..." 

"I'll throw you out again, tomorrow... this will change nothing..." 

"I know that. I know, y' stupid jerk priest. But I don't care about tomorrow, not right now." 

And so High Priest Seto Kaiba had confessed, for the second time, how he had murdered his father—how Aknadin had plotted against Pharaoh Aknamkanon and the young heir, the now-Pharaoh Atem, in order to place his own son on the throne; how that son, Seto Kaiba, only seventeen, had learned of this plan; how he'd poisoned his own father, to protect his cousin, his future Pharaoh; how Aknamkanon had come up to his own brother's room late that night, seeking company, and drank of the poisoned wine as well. 

Then, unable to stop, he'd recounted his duel with his cousin Atem. And, as Atem had cried on that day, Seto did as he told the story. 

Jounochi Katsuya, nothing more than a stray dog that the High Priest let crawl into his bed each night, held him as he cried; kissed him, tenderly. He didn't offer words of comfort or absolution; that wasn't his place, or his right. What he offered was acceptance. And when, the very next morning, High Priest Seto kicked him out and left, Jounochi followed him just the same; found him, that night, just the same, and loved him just the same. 

Priest Seto raised his head; met his Pharaoh's gaze, across the duel field. 

"This is my rematch, Cousin. And I will not bow, either. I draw!"

[thosewhoruleegypt]

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden (2 - 2)

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden is a collection of oneshots and drabbles within the TwRE-verse; Ancient Egypt AU. Each can be read separately, but they’ll make more sense with context~ Part II happens after What Followed the High Priest Home.

Main Story Begins Here! Also available on AO3~ Previous Chapter - Next Chapter (coming soon~)

Part II; Chapter 2 In which the King of Thieves establishes a new morning routine 1000 words; rated G

a/n: Research reference here, since I’ve found slightly conflicting information. :P 

Palace life began, in earnest, with the sunrise. The Pharaoh himself was usually a little slower to rise, and no one begrudged him the few minutes' extra sleep. The Thief King, conversely, was typically up and about some time earlier. It wasn't uncommon for Ryou Bakura to wake alone in the bed they shared, and he didn't think much of it past the first day's panic that the Thief King had run off in the night. 

Then Bakura started returning with breakfast. 

"If I lurk about the stables for a bit, I can sneak off with this much easily!" he said, when Ryou questioned the mysterious appearance of a half-dozen eggs and a pitcher of milk on the table—the latter of which was still warm. 

"Don't steal food," Ryou scolded mildly, though he watched in fascination as Bakura cracked open one of the eggs and swallowed it whole. He'd never seen eggs eaten, by his Thief King or anyone else. Better, or so stated by common wisdom, to wait for them to hatch and then eat the grown birds. "You don't need to steal food. How embarrassing would it be if you got caught?" 

"I won't get caught. King of Thieves, my gem."

"We were planning to eat breakfast with Lord Yugi, this morning." 

"This way we get two breakfasts, and isn't that even more delightful than one?" 

Ryou frowned as Bakura swallowed another egg; washed it down with some of the milk, and then held out the pitcher appealingly. Ryou sighed; took it. He was very fond of milk, after all, and this particular milk was as rich and delicious as any other palace food. He poured some into a bowl for himself; stirred in honey to sweeten it, and sipped it. 

He still repeated, after a moment, "Don't steal food, Thief King. We don't need to do that, anymore." 

And Bakura, though he was licking slimy egg white off his fingers, nodded and mumbled an assent.

... ... ... 

The next morning, Bakura once again beat the sun up; returned with eggs and milk.

"Thief King!" 

Bakura shrugged, spinning an egg on the tabletop in an absentminded way. "It's my nature, dear." And he apologized with kisses and insistent offers of fresh milk. 

As the days went on, however, and this became a routine, Ryou's anxiety only mounted. Bakura seemed far too pleased with his newfound habit to consider altering it, and eventually Ryou was compelled to seek consult. 

"Lord Yugi?" 

Yugi glanced up from where he was sitting on the ground, sorting through Duel Monster cards; smiled. "Ryou? What's up?" 

Ryou fidgeted; said, "I'm worried, Lord Yugi..." 

"Worried? And relax, please—I'm not 'Lord Yugi,' okay? I'm a friend. You can talk to me about anything." 

Ryou nodded; took a deep breath, and blurted out, "Bakura's been stealing—eggs and milk, every morning!" 

Yugi blinked. "Stealing? No, he hasn't." 

Then it was Ryou's turn to look startled. "What? But he has! He said—! And he's come back to our room, every morning, with eggs and milk!" 

All at once Yugi was laughing, lightly—which only befuddled poor Ryou further. "He has. I know. But he hasn't been stealing them." 

Ryou sat down heavily next to him. "He hasn't been? Where's he been getting them, then?" 

"He hangs around the stables in the mornings," Yugi said. "Watches the sun come up, from the roof, as I understand. The servants who work out there with the livestock were pretty nervous, at first, but now they're super used to it. At some point, they started giving him fresh milk, like they do with the wild-cats that skulk around there at dawn. He didn't talk to them much, at first, but he's started striking up conversations more recently. I think that got them a lot more relaxed, about the whole thing. They've all been getting along really well, actually." 

"He's been...?" Ryou echoed in amazement, and Yugi nodded. 

"Bakura asked them why we never eat eggs, about a week back. So they started giving him some of those, too." 

Ryou sat stunned, for a moment, and eventually asked the only question that came to him. "Why don't we eat eggs? Its not normal, that's why! Where in Renenutet did he pick up the habit?"

... ... ... 

"Eggs are easy to steal," was the Thief King's answer, when Ryou asked him the next morning. He sent one of the oblong white things skidding across the table, and Ryou scrambled to catch it. "I wasn't always a King of Thieves, my gem. When I was a kid, I couldn't catch a wild bird, or steal a tame one. So I made due with eggs."

Ryou thought about that, for a moment, turning the egg over in his hands, and then said, "They look awfully slimy." 

"I guess they could be a bit of an acquired taste," Bakura admitted, cracking one open on the table's edge. He considered it before breaking it fully open. "Gotta swallow 'em in one go, quick, or they'll make you gag." 

Ryou wrinkled his nose; Bakura ate his egg without further suspense, then swiped his tongue around his lips. 

"Filling, though... and nutritious..." the Thief King said, with a soft sigh. He leaned forward on the table, resting his head on his arm. He toyed with another egg, balancing it on its end with one finger. "One or two of these'd carry me through a day pretty well, when I was small. And here I am in the Pharaoh's palace, in a nice room I've been told is mine to live in, and I'm right back to stealing eggs for breakfast. Old habits never die, isn't that the truth?" 

And Ryou decided, then, to not tell Bakura that he'd been caught in the lie—that the Thief King no longer stole eggs for his breakfast, but was instead given them by servants of the Pharaoh in return for his early-morning company.

[thosewhoruleegypt]

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden (2 - 1)

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden is a collection of oneshots and drabbles within the TwRE-verse; Ancient Egypt AU. Each can be read separately, but they’ll make more sense with context~ Part II happens after What Followed the High Priest Home. 

Main Story Begins Here! Also available on AO3~ Previous Chapter - Next Chapter 

Part II; Chapter 1 In which Thief King Bakura lectures Yugi about his habit of befriending bad guys  600 words; rated G

"Hey." 

Yugi glanced around, startled by the call. It took him a moment to locate the King of Thieves, perched cross-legged on the ledge of the palace's first floor. He motioned, and Yugi tilted his head. 

"Come up here, for a sec." 

Yugi frowned. "Not everyone can scale the walls like a cat, you know..." 

Bakura smiled, then leaned precariously far down the wall and offered his hand. "Come up here, for a second." 

Yugi sighed, then trotted over and clasped Bakura's hand. He squeaked in surprise when the Thief King heaved him up with seemingly no effort whatsoever, lifting him with disorienting speed. Yugi grabbed the roof's ledge and pulled himself up the rest of the way, then huffed as he settled down beside Bakura. 

"Fish?" 

Yugi had no idea where Bakura had pulled the scraps of food from, and shook his head. "I'm okay, thanks..." 

"Cheese? Or fig bread?" 

"No thanks, really."

"Wine?" 

Yugi sighed. "... Fine." 

Bakura grinned; produced two bowls from gods-knew where, and poured them both some wine. "How's your day going?" 

"Fine. Pretty usual." 

"Haven't found any strangers wandering around the garden?" 

Yugi blinked. "What?" 

"This Joey kid," Bakura said, sipping his drink. "How exactly did your neck get all bruised, that day? The day he and the High Priest arrived?" 

Yugi felt his face heat. "Well... I..." 

"You can tell me. I like the kid—I'm not gonna go after him, or anything like that." 

Yugi nodded. "Yeah... he was looking for Seto. He grabbed me. He had no idea who I was." 

"And I'll bet you did something stupid like offer to be his friend, didn't you?"

Yugi nodded. 

"Remember what I told you? When you let me out of the dungeons, that first time?" 

Yugi shook his head. 

"I told you not to think you can make friends with just anyone, just because it worked with me!" the Thief King said. "And now that it worked with the Joey kid, too, the habit'll probably get worse! Mark my words, pharaoh-ling, next time you'll run out of luck!" 

"He didn't know who I was!" Yugi objected. "And he didn't mean—" 

"And next time, they will know who you are," Bakura cut him off. "Next time, they'll want to kill you. And you'll give them all the opportunity they need to do it, just by offering to shake their hand." 

Yugi's face flushed red; he pursed his lips and looked away. Bakura let out a harsh sigh. 

"Look, you're the Great Royal Husband. You're the Pharaoh's greatest weakness. Someone wants to hurt him, they'll go straight for you. You can’t make yourself such an easy target, for people like that. Think of how Horus would feel—it'd kill him. And I'd feel pretty bad, too. And Ryou, he's a crier. He'd cry for a year straight, if something happened to you, and that'd break my heart, and then I'd take it out on that stupid Priest Set, and everything would fall apart from there. We'd all die, and you wouldn't even be alive to apologize." 

Yugi gave a faint chuckle. "It wouldn't... I'm not going to get hurt. I promise." 

"Then be a little smarter, or you won't be able to keep that promise." Bakura's voice had an edge to it, and Yugi shivered. "And I won't forgive you, if you break that promise." 

"Okay. I'll be careful." 

"Good." Bakura drank his wine; stared out at the courtyard. Surprisingly few palace-folk noticed them, where they sat, and those that did only smiled up in bemusement. It occurred to Yugi, as he sipped his own drink, that he should take the trouble to glance up more often.

[thosewhoruleegypt]

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden (2 - 6)

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden is a collection of oneshots and drabbles within the TwRE-verse; Ancient Egypt AU. Each can be read separately, but they’ll make more sense with context~ Part II happens after What Followed the High Priest Home.

Main Story Begins Here! Also available on AO3~ Previous Chapter - Next Chapter 

Part II; Chapter 6 In which the King of Thieves spins bedtime stories for himself 800 words; rated T

"Sleep now, my dear, "Rest now your head, "For Ra will rise in the morn.

"Sleep now, my love, "And dream of sweet waters, "For the Desert won't take you from me."

Thief King Bakura stood outside the window, leaning back against the stone wall of the common house. Only fourteen, he had just recently decided that the city of Kul Elna was to be his; only just begun establishing his power, in the city. Common folk like this woman and her child wouldn't know of him, yet. 

"Sleep now, my dear, "Rest now your head, "For Ra will rise in the morn."

The song was familiar to him—stirred dark, warm feelings deep in his psyche.

"Sleep now, my love, "And dream of sweet waters, "For the Desert won't take you from me."

It was an extremely common lullaby—one almost every person in Egypt would know, and one Bakura had heard sung by a thousand voices. It was highly unlikely, he thought, that it had ever been sung to him—far more likely, he thought, that the faint sensation of being held, of hearing a mother or father croon beside a crib, of hearing the song from within that crib, was a mere projection of his own imagination. 

"Sleep now, my dear, "Rest now your head, "For Ra will rise in the morn.

"Sleep now, my love, "And dream of sweet waters, "For the Desert won't take you from me."

Bakura had no memories of his parents—either of them. His earliest memories were of crawling in the dust along the alleys of some city he had long forgotten the identity of. He had grown up feral, and acquired more human-like behaviors only as he grew; only because he lived in a city inhabited by humans. Had he been abandoned in the wilderness, among wild dogs, he would have adopted their behavior; if he'd been thrown down into the underworld, he would have learned to act like a demon. As it was, he taught himself to do things like walk upright, and to speak and then to read, and to steal, with help from no one, parent or otherwise. But every time he heard that lullaby, he was compelled to stop; compelled to listen. 

"Sleep now, my dear, "Rest now your head, "For Ra will rise in the morn.” 

He mouthed the words, as the mother sang, from his interloper's spot beside the window. 

"Sleep now, my love, "And dream of sweet waters, "For the Desert won't take you from me."

Perhaps, Bakura thought, his parents were both dead. Perhaps they had left him not voluntarily, but because they had died of sickness or of hunger. 

"Sleep now, my dear, "Rest now your head, "For Ra will rise in the morn.” 

Perhaps, he thought, his mother had been alone when she had given birth, abandoned by his father before she had abandoned him. Perhaps she had died in childbirth, even, with no one there to help her. 

"Sleep now, my love, "And dream of sweet waters, "For the Desert won't take you from me."

Perhaps his parents had been afraid—mutually decided that, in a time of famine, they couldn't feed both themselves and a child. And so, instead of killing him or watching him waste away, they had disposed of him in some insignificant ally of some unnamed city. 

"Sleep now, my dear, "Rest now your head, "For Ra will rise in the morn.” 

Perhaps he had never been wanted. Perhaps they had planned to cast him out from the moment his mother had conceived him. Perhaps they had cursed him and wished him gone before he was even born, but he had stubbornly persisted. 

"Sleep now, my love, "And dream of sweet waters, "For the Desert won't take you from me."

Or perhaps his mother had screamed and sobbed, and it had been the pragmatic father who'd torn the babe from her arms; who'd insisted that they couldn't keep it, if they themselves were to survive the times of famine. Perhaps the father had done it out of selfishness, or perhaps he had done it out of a love so strong, for the child's mother, that it had driven him mad. Perhaps he'd cast away his son so that his wife might have enough to sustain her own body, and not bleed nutrients for the child. 

"Sleep now, my dear, "Rest now your head, "For Ra will rise in the morn.

"Sleep now, my love, "And dream of sweet waters, "For the Desert won't take you from me."

What a restless child... Bakura thought, making its mother recite the lullaby so many times... He longed to be released from its spell; wished the child would sleep, and the mother fall silent, and the lamp be blown out before it could shed light on the tears coursing down his face. He didn't hate those who had beget him—couldn't hate them, when he didn't know who they were or why they'd left him. He couldn't hate them, not even when he contemplated the most deplorable of possibilities. And in light of that, he could only hate his own weakness. 

"Sleep now, my dear, "Rest now your head, "For Ra will rise in the morn.

"Sleep now, my love, "And dream of sweet waters, "For the Desert won't take you from me."

[thosewhoruleegypt]

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden (1 - 15)

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden is a collection of oneshots and drabbles within the TwRE-verse; Ancient Egypt AU. Each can be read separately, but they’ll make more sense with context~ Part I happens between For Love of Pharaoh and King and What Followed the High Priest Home.

Main Story Begins Here! Also available on AO3~ Previous Chapter - Next Chapter 

Part I; Chapter 15 In which the Thief King attends a royal banquet for the first time 2300 words; rated T

note: Reference used for some of Bakura’s dialogue found here: (x) 

Pharaoh Atem thought it would be a good idea. Thief King Bakura was of a slightly different opinion, but he was in no particular position to argue with the Pharaoh of Egypt. 

"These are for hand-washing," Ryou carried on worriedly, holding up the little dish of water. The Thief King scoffed. 

"I know that." 

“I know you know that, but you sometimes ignore things, even if you know them!" Ryou snapped, slamming the little dish down in a rare show of anger. Bakura shut his mouth. "... And this is important..." 

"I really wish Pharaoh wasn't so set on this idea..." Yugi murmured, from his sprawled-out spot on the bed. He had taken easily to spending time in the room of the two thieves—more, even, then he'd spent with them in the dungeons, due to the more pleasant surroundings. "And this is a really formal banquet, too..." 

"He wants to make a point," the Thief King said, tone reasonable despite his grimace. "To me and to his higher-ups. I'm the whipped lion to be paraded out on a leash, to attest to the Pharaoh's power." 

"That's not... exactly..." Yugi tried, but Bakura shook his head. 

"It's politics, that's all. I was a threat, a real one, and now I've been neutralized. It's a natural thing for Pharaoh Horus to do, and I'm not taking anything personally." He sat back; propped his feet up on the table, despite Ryou's objections. "I'll behave, don't worry. For you," he added, to Ryou, then turned to Yugi, "and for you, pharaoh-ling. Not for Horus. Tell him that, okay?" 

... ... ...

The Thief King had enjoyed power, at least within his city of Kul Elna, that rivaled that of the Pharaoh. What he'd never experienced, however, was the level of ritual that that type of lawful power entailed. The Thief King had abided by his own rules, only—where ceremony and decorum and everything else was concerned. 

"How do I address you, in front of others?" 

Yugi smiled. "Great Royal Husband is my official title, but plenty of people—like Ryou—just call me Lord Yugi." 

The Thief King nodded, much of his expression obscured by the darkness. He had found Yugi, late at night, in the gardens; approached with his head lowered, sat beside the Royal Husband in the grass, and begun to ask about matters of decorum without any real lead-in. Yugi, understanding, tried his best to oblige. 

"How bad is it going to be, if I mess this up?" Bakura asked eventually, and Yugi's smile softened. 

"Not bad. I promise." 

"I grew up a bit feral, you know. This sort of thing... it's not something I'm really good at. I can fake it, somewhat, but it's not... me." 

Feral... Yugi wondered what, exactly, he meant by that, but said, "I've misstepped at events like this too many times to count, and no one's ever come after me with a spear." 

"You're the Pharaoh's husband," Bakura said, with a pained smile. "I'm in a bit of a different situation." 

"You carry yourself with such... confidence, though," Yugi said, laying one hand over the Thief King's. Bakura looked surprised, but didn't pull away. "You carry yourself like a King, so even if you mess something up..." he gestured with his free hand, searching for the words. "Embarrassment isn't a thing that Kings have to contend with—if they do something wrong, they can just declare that that was the right way to do it, all along. Does that make sense?" 

Bakura laughed softly; said, "Yeah, 'cept I'm not a King anymore." 

Yugi felt a stab of sadness; wondered where this sudden vulnerability had come from, and squeezed Bakura's hand. "I'll be sitting right across from you. And Ryou, he's insanely good at this etiquette thing, and he'll be right next to you." 

"And Horus?" Bakura asked, with a smirk. "He'll be right next to me, too." 

"He's not setting you up to fail," Yugi said. "He wouldn't go so out of his way to do a thing like that." 

"I disagree. Remember, I'm the de-fanged snake—the neutralized threat. There's no good reason Horus wouldn't—or shouldn’t, even—take every opportunity to humiliate me." 

"He knows you wouldn't sit by and take that sort of abuse," Yugi said, and then, though a bit uncertain about his right to disclose Atem's private thoughts on the matter, continued. "Pharaoh... he... well, we share our thoughts pretty openly, he and I. Sometimes it's hard not to, you know?" 

"Yeah, of course. It's bizarre how close you two are." 

"Well, then take my word for this—Pharaoh doesn’t see you as a de-fanged snake. He knows you could have another go at killing him any time you wanted. Even though he doesn't think you will, that's always there, in the back of his head." 

Bakura blinked. "Really? I've tried to make it real clear—" 

"I know. And he knows." Yugi shook his head slightly. "My point is that he still views you as a powerful force. This whole banquet idea is politically motivated—that's why I'm not really happy about it. But as far as Pharaoh is concerned, he's way more interested in incorporating you and Ryou into palace life, rather than this display of power you keep talking about. He just... well, he can't bring himself to put that any understandable way." 

Bakura blinked. "Incorporating us?" 

Yugi nodded. "Pharaoh would be the first one to say it—you're so strong. Well, he wouldn't be the first one to say it," he said, and then admitted, "... he'd probably never say it out loud, but... I'm in his head, so I know that's how he's thinking. And he knows there's no getting rid of you, not after all this. He wants you to be an ally, and he wants Ryou to be my companion, like we originally planned. He's more interested in making you visible, at this banquet—getting people used to the idea that you live here, too, now. I think he'd be better off with a less... um... flashy event, but Pharaoh's never been one to do things subtly, especially when he's made his mind up, and doubly so when he's breaking with convention. He did the same thing when he announced our betrothal." 

Bakura sat back slightly, in apparent astonishment, then asked, "And you're sure you’re not making all this up, just to smooth things over?" 

Yugi shook his head. "Lies wouldn't work anyway, I don't think." 

Bakura considered that for a moment, then drew his hand back; meshed his fingers and thought. Yugi let him be, turning his face toward the brilliant desert stars and the moon—almost full. 

"Ey, Serket. I've got one more question. About tomorrow." 

"Sure. I'll answer it, if I can." 

"So the Pharaoh thinks tomorrow's gonna be his show, right? How about we throw in a little twist of our own?" 

... ... ...

Everyone in Egypt was fairly accustomed to Pharaoh Atem doing things in his own—often entirely unprecedented—ways. It was growing ever-harder for the Pharaoh to surprise anyone. 

When he showed up to a formal banquet with the King of Thieves at his shoulder, he managed it once again. 

The Pharaoh was done up in all his finery, but Thief King Bakura wasn't in rags by comparison. His red robes, with their gold trim, complimented Atem's—golden, with red trim—uncannily, and the Thief King wore a maize headdress strung with thin golden chains. At Atem's gracious motion, he took a seat of honor at the Pharaoh's left; Yugi Mutuo, of course, took the seat on Atem's right. The servant Ryou Bakura sat beside the Thief King. Atem remained standing, for a moment more. 

"Welcome, all, to this banquet. May Ra shine eternally on your houses and lineages." 

There was a polite murmur of acceptance, at the blessing, and then a pause. The guests shifted, expectant, waiting for an explanation that did not come. Atem sat down; folded his hands. 

"Pharaoh?"

"Let them guess for a time, Partner. Let them wonder." "Please, the first course of food," Atem called calmly to a servant, who bowed and hurried off. He motioned, too, to a harpist who sat in the corner, and she began her soft, ambient music. It took a few moments for any type of conversation to start up, and when it did it was hushed and uncomfortable. Pharaoh Atem appeared unconcerned. 

Thief King Bakura, also, remained unaffected by the dis-ease. He chatted—at a normal volume—with Ryou and with Yugi and even with Atem about mostly innocuous things like the weather or casual dueling. When the food began to arrive, that quickly became the entire focus of Bakura's attention. But the Thief King stayed true to his word—behaved, and was very gracious as far as table manners were concerned. The food was brought out in rapid succession—many small servings, meant to be chosen selectively from as a sampling of every delicacy the palace staff could cook up. The Thief King, however, made short and efficient work of everything presented to him. He even took to swiping choice bits, periodically, from the Pharaoh's own plate. Atem dutifully ignored him; Ryou, conversely, looked about ready to faint with panic each time Bakura snatched a tender slice of beef or juicy piece of fruit. 

"You've been holding out on us after all, Pharaoh!" the Thief King said at some point, plenty loud enough to be heard by most of the table. "We never got anything as good as all this, down in the dungeons!" 

Pharaoh Atem remained nonplussed by the momentary stir that that caused; replied, "Please. Even I don't eat like this, everyday." 

"Please," the Thief King mimicked, then raised his glass. "You could if you wanted to."

Ryou breathed a visibly relieved sigh at the seemingly easy banter, even as the Pharaoh waved off the next tray of delicacies he was offered and the Thief King eagerly tucked into his. 

"This is going well..." Yugi murmured, and Atem gave him a small smile. 

"As expected." Atem, dignity personified, sipped his wine. 

Bakura, meanwhile, was trying to catch Yugi's eye—considering how ostentatiously he'd been behaving, subtly by comparison wasn't hard to manage. Yugi wondered if he should feel guilty for being party to such a thing. For once, only this once, things were going as Atem had planned, where the Thief King was concerned. Just this once. 

Yugi decided, after a moment, that Atem never should have assumed that things would go exactly his way, so the Pharaoh had no right to be disappointed when they didn't. 

When Bakura received a nod, from the Great Royal Husband, he scarfed the rest of his food; threw back the rest of his wine. As trays of desserts began to appear, Bakura nudged his over to Ryou. Ryou looked curiously at him—not yet alarmed, but still as on-edge as he'd ever been in his life. 

"I love you, my sweet," Bakura murmured, kissing his forehead. Ryou scrunched down slightly in his seat, eyes closing for the beat—the second it took for Bakura to rise, from his seat. Then all eyes were on him, Ryou's flying wide with alarm, and the Pharaoh was struggling to keep his surprise off his face. 

"What's he doing, Partner?"

Yugi, though aware that he could ease Atem's anxiety with a simple word, said, "No idea, Pharaoh..." with faux confusion. 

"I'm sure you're all wondering why a thing like me is here, sitting beside the Pharaoh," the Thief King began, and received a bewildered murmuring of agreement. He walked slowly, languidly, around the back of Atem's seat; Atem's eyes followed him keenly until he stopped, between the Pharaoh and his Great Royal Husband. "Well, I'll show you—this is why I'm here." 

Just as Atem rose to his feet—although to do what, even he wasn't quite sure—Bakura knelt down. The switch in their postures was striking—might appear choreographed, to anyone who didn't know better; the harpist played on. Yugi didn't try to hide his smile. 

"May I never transgress the command of our god, the Pharaoh Horus, who is called Atem," Bakura said, his head lowered but his voice strong; powerful. "As he speaks, I will act accordingly. May I never again act evilly against him, or his Great Royal Husband, both living forever, gods of our lifetime. I have seen their powers, and they've given me breath as they see fit." 

The room was entirely silent, as Bakura's voice faded away, save for the ambient harp. Atem managed to keep his mouth from falling open, but couldn't call to mind the proper words to reply; the assembly, hushed, waited for his response. 

"I accept your oath...?" Yugi prodded gently, amused by the utter void that Atem's mind had become. Ryou looked like he might fall dead where he sat, and Bakura still knelt, head down, patient in his supplication. After a few more pensive beats, the Pharaoh drew a heavy breath. 

"I accept your oath, in the name of my divine father Osiris, and his father, the sun Ra, and will wield such power as your loyalty lends me to the benefit of those I rule over. Rise, Bakura, King of Thieves." 

Bakura's eyes flashed with surprise at the use of the title, but he obeyed. The two stared at one another for a moment, Bakura waiting for some cue and Atem's expression and posture giving nothing away. Yugi thought, again, that the King of Thieves looked every bit as godly as the Pharaoh did, when they stood side by side. 

"Sit down, thief," Atem said suddenly, the tension shattering as he jerked his head toward the table. Bakura laughed at the jarring break with formality, and obeyed. Atem sat back down as he did; picked up his wine and said, with the utmost authority, "And I swear, the next time you spring something like that on me, I'll have you dragged off and executed on the spot." 

[thosewhoruleegypt]

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden (1 - 8)

The Pharaoh’s Lotus Garden is a collection of oneshots and drabbles within the TwRE-verse; Ancient Egypt AU. Each can be read separately, but they’ll make more sense with context~ Part I happens between For Love of Pharaoh and King and What Followed the High Priest Home.

Main Story Begins Here! Also available on AO3~ Previous Chapter - Next Chapter 

Part I; Chapter 8 In which Prince Atem comes to realize something unpleasant about his revered father, the Pharaoh 1900 words; rated T

Prince Atem wanted for nothing. His needs were always met, often before he even realized them. He grew up knowing no other reality. 

Pharaoh Aknamkanon spent far more time with his young son—his only child—than his title should have allowed for. This, as with most things in his life, Atem did not question. His father was a treasured playmate and friend; a tutor in all things, and a confidant. He told Atem many stories—stories about the honor of pharaohs and how they served the people of Egypt as earthly gods. He told Atem how, one day, he would ascend to the throne. All these things Aknamkanon told his young son, his successor, and not once did Atem ever see his father upon the throne. Not once, indeed, did he see his father acting as pharaoh. 

"Uncle?" 

Aknadin looked down from where he sat upon the throne of the pharaoh; smiled at his tiny nephew—a boy of only ten, and small for his age. "Atem. Come. Sit on your uncle's lap. You should get used to the view from this chair, you know." 

Atem obeyed, climbing with some difficulty up onto the throne. Aknadin lifted him the rest of the way to sit on his lap, and Atem settled in comfortably.

"Uncle, why do we never speak to our people?" 

Aknadin laughed softly. "Why should we? We have subordinates to deal directly with the common folk." 

"When father tells me stories, about great pharaohs of the past, they meet with the people they rule. They don't separate themselves from them."  

"Stories are stories, my dear nephew. Like myth. They aren't always to be taken literally." 

Atem thought about that for a moment, and then said, "Father is with the new batch of servants, now. He says that their lives have been wretched, so it's up to us to make their lives wonderful, here in the palace. But why were their lives wretched, before?" 

"Because the poor lead wretched lives," Aknadin replied, stroking Atem's soft hair. "That is how it's always been, and how it will be for generations to come. You'll understand, when you're older." 

"Yes, Uncle." But Atem wasn't satisfied by that, and wondered why there were notes of fear in his uncle's voice. And he wondered, again, why his father never sat on the throne of the pharaoh.

... ... ... 

"Seto, why do you think your father and my father never want to go outside the palace?"

Seto Kaiba sniffed, drawing a card. "Who would want to go outside the palace? I set one card and summon Lesser Dragon, to attack! It attacks your defender, and sends Feral Imp to the graveyard." 

Atem ignored the card game; said, "But we rule over the people who live outside the palace. Shouldn't we at least see them? Look at them, and know how they live?" 

"We know how they live," Seto replied. "They eat and they sleep and they breed like livestock. They don't think past today, and they don't seek to learn anything at all." 

"They play Duel Monsters." 

Seto frowned. "Maybe. But most of them can't even read, so they play only by attack and defense and what they can gather from the picture on each card. I wouldn't call that high-level dueling." 

"Most of the servants and slaves are good people," Atem continued. "Father takes great care to look after them, too, saying they've 'had more than their share of suffering.' But why not try to ease the suffering outside of the palace, then?" 

"Nothing to be done for it," Seto said, irritated that the game had been delayed. "Famine isn't a thing even a pharaoh can control—that's in the hands of the gods." 

"Famine?" 

"Not now," Seto said, "but about five years back. It was the worst one either of our fathers have ever seen. And now, even if the famine itself has passed, law hasn't reestablished itself. Neighbors still fight neighbors over scraps of bread, and the fear of starvation is alive and thriving among the poor. Offering them charity fixes nothing, but they lack the higher-level thought to change their behaviors, and so their situation." 

Atem thought about that for a long moment, then said, "Isn't it the pharaoh's role to at least try?" 

"It's in the hands of the gods," Seto replied, and asked, "Are you going to take your turn, already? Or do you concede?" 

... ... ...

When Atem was fifteen, he gazed off the palace balcony with his father at his side. His uncle, Aknadin, was in the throne room, as usual. Wind swept across the inhospitable desert horizon, even as the setting sun turned the sky a stunning gradient of orange and red. 

"I have failed you, my son." 

Atem looked up in surprise; a headband slipped from its place in his hair, falling into his eyes, and he pushed it back up. "Father? You haven't—" 

"The Egypt you'll inherit isn't the one I've told you of, in stories." Aknamkanon lowered his head. "My son, you must never leave the safety of the palace." 

Atem felt resentment flare up inside him. "Kaiba told you, didn't he?" 

"You should not plan to do such things, my son. Leaving the palace would mean—" 

"I want to see it for myself! I want to meet the people we rule over, father, and—" 

"We do not rule them!" Aknamkanon burst out finally, and Atem drew back as though struck. Pharaoh Aknamkanon took a moment to regain his composure, then said, "My brother has allowed things to grow worse than I ever imagined. I wasn't... paying attention. It is the criminals who rule Egypt, now, like that damnable Thief King. Order has deteriorated, and people... they're frightened, Atem. They're scared and they're resentful of those who have safety and security. They would not welcome you, as a beloved god, if you ventured into their domain. They would fall upon you like demons and consume you, flesh and blood and soul." 

Atem stared at his father, his face slack with shock. When he finally managed to speak, he asked, "Uncle Aknadin? Why do you blame him, father?" 

"Because I handed control of Egypt to him years ago, when you were born. I wanted to raise you, my son—I didn't want the duties of a pharaoh to take me from you, and so I—" 

"But you are the pharaoh!" Atem screamed, making his father jump. "You are the pharaoh, curse you! How could you let this happen? You taught me... all the things you taught me, when in reality, you... you..." His stomach heaved; he looked again toward the horizon and saw Set's anger, there, in the violent winds. 

"I am... so sorry, Atem..." Aknamkanon breathed, stooping beside his son. "As I said, I've failed you, worse than the gods should ever allow someone to fail, and I..." 

Aknamkanon trailed off. Atem allowed himself to be held, but didn't lean into his father; didn't respond as the tears began to come, sobs wracking his tiny body. 

... ... ... 

"Seto...! Seto!" 

Seto Kaiba murmured something indistinct in his sleep; rolled over and woke, immediately, at the sight of his young cousin standing beside his bed. 

"Atem?" 

A fist sailed; smacked into Seto’s cheek with surprising force, and the young priest cried out. He sprang to his feet and faced Atem, who was rubbing his fist contemplatively. 

"That's for telling on me," Atem muttered, glaring at his cousin. 

Seto stood up straighter. "It's too dangerous! You're a fool for even thinking about it, and all I did—" 

"You can go kiss Ammut!" Atem retorted, crossing his arms. "Jerk bastard..." 

"I don't want you to die!" Seto shouted. "Who else would I duel all day?!" 

"Oh, and you know how dangerous it is, out there?" Atem snapped. "Do you know what your father's done? Do you know what my father's done—or not done?" 

Seto looked down. "Cousin—" 

"No! No, don't 'Cousin' me! You knew! You knew about the lies, you knew about the stories, you knew about the—" 

"They couldn't have done anything differently!" Seto yelled. "Your father, my father, they can't do anything if the common filth doesn't—" 

"We have all the advantages, Seto, and they have nothing!" 

"They're human, aren't they?! Don't they have reason? Can't they see that they're just killing themselves?!" 

"They're scared, Seto! And I'm sure not every one of them is like that, anyway!" 

"You don't get it! You've never lived anywhere but the palace!" 

"Neither have you!" 

"I don't want to!" 

Atem kicked out at his cousin's shin; Seto, off-guard, took the blow and fell with a cry. Then Atem was on top of him, and they rolled over and over on the floor of young Seto Kaiba's room. They slammed into a nightstand; knocked a lantern down, where it shattered on the ground, and then rolled over the glass with little regard for how it cut them both. It took five royal guards, summoned by the ruckus, to separate them, and by then they were both battered and torn and spitting the vilest curses they knew at one another. 

One of the guards carried Atem back up to his room—a large man of intimidating posture, who held the tiny child gently and with a practiced competency. As they neared his own chamber, Atem collapsed from hysterics into soft sobs, clinging to the man and letting himself be comforted. 

"Where did you come from?" 

The guard looked down in surprise, having placed the pharaoh-to-be in his bed. Atem's small hand was tangled in the guard's robes, bidding him stay. 

"Prince Atem?" 

"Are you of common birth?" Atem asked, calm despite the swelling of one eye and the tears still drizzling down his face. 

The guard hesitated, then said, "Yes, my lord, I am." 

"Tell me what your home was like. Please. I want to know." 

The guard looked honestly uncomfortable, and Atem pulled more insistently at his robe. Though the gesture was one of a child, his gaze held the power of inherited authority. 

"Tell me, please. I want to know what life is like, outside the palace." 

And so the guard knelt; lowered his head, and told the young prince of his life before the palace. He admitted, in the most matter-of-fact language he could manage, how he had lost his wife and two of his children—an infant girl and a boy of three—to the horrible famine those many years ago. He tried to stop, then, and Atem bade him continue. The guard said that he and his two remaining sons had fallen in with the crime underworld, then. As a result, he'd buried his remaining sons, as well. He'd repented, the guard continued, and come to the palace; pleaded to be executed, for his own crimes. Though Aknadin had been prepared to oblige, Pharaoh Aknamkanon had, instead, offered him a post at the palace. 

"Your father is a kind man, Lord Atem," the guard said, by way of conclusion, "and your uncle, a fair man." 

"Perhaps..." Atem murmured, then said, "Thank you, for your story. Thank you for your honesty."