The Lion and the Serpent

"You're sure nothing was taken?" The Per-ah asked his brows knitted together. Whether from stress of disbelief, Atem couldn't tell.

"We are positive, my per-ah. We checked this room and all others from top to bottom and everything is accounted for. The thief didn't take anything." The guard bowed. His comrades paused in their work and confirmed his statement.

"That is what concerns me," The Per-ah opened his eyes slowly. The words were simple but the force was sharp. "This isn't the first time he's broken into the palace but the first time he's gained access to this room. And yet he's taken nothing? What is he after, then?" The man pondered, more to himself than the crowd gathered. The guards and priests, however, took the word to heart and continued their vain search for clues, but Atem knew they'd find none.

The Thief King didn't leave clues. He was too cautious. Too careful. Too skilled.

So then why of all the rooms in the palace would be come here? It had been the question seared into Atem's mind since the alarm had been triggered.

Constantly under the heaviest of guards for obvious reasons, the Royal Treasury contained all the wealth of Kemet. Sealed with its vastness were all the gifts and treasured of foreign lands from exotic gold statues encrusted with jewels to famous spices, lavish silks and no small number of the gold and silver currency coins that were becoming popular among their Mediterranean allies. But gold was common in Kemet and so were precious stones. Even the common people wore them more as jewelry or as totems for religious ceremony than for any material value.

That wasn't the Thief King's style. He was much more flamboyant. He didn't waste his time with trivial items and petty thievery. There was an art to his madness and when he stole, he made a show of it. It was why he was called the King: he only stole things no one else could, but there was mystery in his thefts as well. No one knew his plans until after the item had already been taken. Many a nomach and guard had wasted valuable time and resources assuming they knew what the Thief King wanted only to leave his real target so pathetically undefended it was barely a challenge for him. Sometimes the challenge was so simple, he only left a note that it wasn't worth the effort to steal it, which was twice the insult.

And by that logic the Royal Treasury was an obvious a target: a thief's paradise; yet this thief had taken nothing. So why?

Atem strolled through the room searching the scattered gold coins to the toppled statues. Focused crimson scrutinized each object. As a child, he'd seen this room many times, and every time he had, rarely anything was out of place, aside from the newest addition from countries determined to make strong alliances. He circumnavigated the room. Piles of coins pooled in poorly constructed pyramids left only a few narrow paths of white stone. Except one had completely toppled over, cutting a bridge of gold across the white river. The coins had pooled out from the pile like a wave then suddenly stopped. It was then he noticed the trail of them between the barricade and the door. If they'd been stolen wouldn't there be drops of them as well?

A clatter of coins scattered where a guard was running and he had his answer.

"Everyone stop!" Atem's ordered and the room obeyed.

"What is it, son?" Only the Per-ah dared interrupt the frozen stillness.

"We've been assuming that the thief's target was this room, correct? What if it wasn't?" the prince proposed. He didn't waiver in his theory even in the face of confused eyes, his uncle's snort or his cousin's humoring smirk.

Instead, he marched over the pile of coins with all the regal his position granted and demonstrated. "Guards are posted all along this hallway. The Thief is obviously familiar with that, but last night we doubled the guard, something he did not expect. We assumed this room was his target because of the treasure it contains. Yet he took nothing? That alone raises suspicion. It's more likely he was trying to escape and simply stumbled across this room by mistake."

"You believe he came here on accident?" Aknadin snapped with force like he was about to strike a child. Normally, such rudeness directed at either the Crown Prince or the Per-Ah would be punished with a lash. But the old man was Royal Advisor and brother of the Per-Ah, a position he used and milked like it was venom of a snake

"He's a thief! He was discovered here! He probably didn't steal anything because the guards caught him and he lacked the time!" Aknadin stomped towards the young prince. Though the same age as Atem's father, Aknadin's ruffles of white hair and wrinkles from years of stressful shouts aged him far more quickly. His single eye was squinted in a glare, the other a single gold Wadjet eye that had terrified Atem as child—something his uncle had clearly known—but now filled him with disgust.

"Now, is not the time for your games, Prince, this is serious work and we—"

"That's enough." He was cut off by the Per-Ah's retort: a harsh, domineering tone that held no room for argument, and he only used with his brother. Aknadin made it a habit of overstepping his authority, and it was Aknamkanon's burden as both Per-ah, and his older brother, to put him back in his place. "I will hear him speak. A Per-Ah must consider any and all possibilities be it war or petty thieves."

He spun towards Atem, appearing in every inch the living Horus his position demanded of him, but when he faced his son his expression softened. The unreadable vertical line of his mouth morphed to a small smile, his hard eyes softened to aged crimson, so deep they were nearly violet, and the hard lines of his face relaxed. "And this is no petty thief."

Atem gave his father a small smile in their secret languages then once more donned his neutral mask but the fire in his eyes blazed with scarlet confidence. "Precisely" he nodded and swaggered towards the door. "The lock was not fastened from the inside. If the Thief wanted to steal from this room, his first instinct would be to deny the guards entrance as long as possible. He did not." He spun around again. "Second, look at what he did touch. Even just one item from this room would mark him as the thief if he tried to sell it or trade it. It would make him a target rather than wealthy. So by that logic the only thing he could steal would be the coins."

Atem followed the only section of floor not covered in piles of gold and heavy, unmovable statures. He stopped at a toppled pyramid where a sea of gold pooled in waves at his feet. "And those coins are the only thing out of place."

"So you think he was after the coins?" Isis, the only female priests asked curiously, touching the golden Wadjet necklace at her throat. Her large eyes, the deepest blue, and elegant face gave her a youthful appearance that betrayed her shrewed wit. "Then why shove the piles? She referred to the two bays of scatted coins, one by the prince the other by the second entrance. "Wouldn't it to be easier to grab simply grab handfuls as he went?"

"He could've taken too much from one and it became unstable?" Shada, a bold priest suggested. Thick trails of black khol around his eyes made them appear sharper and his gaze fiercer. He clutched a large golden ank in the shape of a key strapped to his belt.

"Impossible," Mahad, the Court Magician stepped in. He'd remained silent during the prince's observation, scrutinizing the room for errors. His brow furrowed in concentration and stroked his chin with his thumb, careful not to strike the golden spikes hanging off the golden ring that housed a Wadjet eye at its heart. "It would never have been enough to collapses the whole thing, and he could never have escaped carrying that much weight, let along from two. Not when he'd been caught."

"Exactly," Atem's neutral mask vanished. A smile slit his face and his eyes blazed. "Which means he wasn't after the coins either. He wasn't stealing at all."

That caught everyone's attention. Even Seth, who had remained silent, humoring the Prince's theory raised his brows in surprise.

Again Atem smirked. "He was creating obstacles."

"Then he did come in here trying to escape," Isis said understanding.

The priests all gasps and began talking amongst themselves.

"Clever boy," Mahad snorted. "Even if he came in here by accident, he was smart enough to know we'd assume this was his target, we'd waste our time trying to protect just this room, and leave everything else wide open for his next attack."

"Next attack" Shada's voice rose with surprise. "You think he'll return.

"If he didn't get his target," The Per-Ah stepped in, the weight of the golden puzzle swaying slightly with his movements. "We caught him off guard last night and he escaped. He may not have left empty handed."

"He didn't take anything," Atem said defiantly, again commanding the attention of the room.

"And you know this how?" The High Priest Seth asked rhetorically.

He hadn't expected Atem to respond, but when he saw the smirk curling at the corners, too late he realized he'd been played.

"The Thief King does not settle," Atem stood with a slender hand grasping a graceful hip. He wore confidence like it was the scarlet mantle and a gold necklace at his throat. "From his past thefts, we've seen he has a code of pride. He won't steal if the challenge is too simple, and he won't settle on stealing something else to save face if he's unable to reach his intended target. He'd rather leave empty handed. And all of his thefts have been about pride. His pride and the pride of his intended target. He wants to steal something claimed to be unstealable. It's why he targeted the Great House in the first place. He wants to show even the Per-Ah's best men can't stop him."

The Per-ah looked at his son proudly. The priests hung on his every word, like proud soldiers trusting only their commander to lead them. The High Priest, wisely, stood back, but Aknadin was not so humble

"Then what was he after?" He demanded in a tone that expected an answer, but assumed there would not be one.

Atem's smile curled at the corners. "I have a theory." He turned to the guards stationed at the second exist. "Where does this chamber lead exactly?"

The guards were not flustered by the question and answered obediently "It is an under passage, my Prince. Directly above it are the kitchens."

"And above that?" Atem asked though he knew the answer.

Suddenly even the guards were surprised.

"The Royal Wing," The Per-ah spoke first.

"So it is not a thief at all, but an assassin!" Aknadin shrieked. The guards and priest all turned white. Even the Per-Ah looked disturbed for good reason. Only Atem and Seth looked unphased.

"Impossible," Seth shook his head dismissively. "If that were true he'd have killed everyone in his previous thefts, but he didn't. His attacks were always reckless and wild, clearly attempts to escape. He doesn't possess the stealth of an assassin. They're two different beasts.

"Indeed," Atem agreed quickly, hoping to mollify their fears.

They were justly warranted. If these actions were part of some rebellion, the best and quickest way to secure the empire was to kill the current ruler and any and all heirs to the throne. Rebellions wanted war even less than the monarchs did: it led to losses of men and moral and with every increasing battle the rebellions chances of success decreased. The Royal army and loyalists were infinite. Rebels were not. And wars cost money. Even if the Rebellion succeeded the "new rulers" were left with the debts of the old and those of the war. And, of course, there were the guards, priests and common folk who loved and feared the previous Per-ah and trusted him to rule with justice and mercy, whose trust needed to be won, and they were far larger than the rebellion supporters. A quick death to the previous Son of Horus and his heirs and a fast succession of the new leaders avoided all that. But again the problem was convincing everyone else you were the better ruler, otherwise the death of the Pharaoh and the lack of an heir just created a new war for the throne.

"I have absolutely no doubt our intruder is a thief only. Not an assassin. Assassin's leave marks or notes behind for the guards and Kings in order to produce fear, and create opportunity. More so, he's had several chances to do so during each invasion, and we never even knew he was here. If he truly wanted to kill us, Father and I would both be dead."

"Then what purpose could he have in the Royal chambers, prince?" Shada asked.

"That I'm not sure," Atem answered and turned to the guards who'd chased him. "Did he say anything when he left?"

"Yes, my prince. He bragged, actually. Said we were fools to think we could catch the King of Thieves."

It made sense, Atem though. The Thief King had a habit for teasing the guards. His movements were flawless and graceful which lead many to wonder if he's originally been an acrobat or an entertainer before his life of crime, the way he danced circles around his pursuers.

Seth snorted. "An arrogant thief."

But Atem's eyes glistened with delight, his smile curling at the corners. "I know what our thief is after." He strolled past the guards, and to his father a plan already forming in his head. "And I know exactly how to catch him."
_________________________________________________________________________________________________

Following Ra's descent to the underworld Nut covered the desert with her outstretched body blanketing the land in shadow and starlight. Unlike the day, the night was cool and crisp. The full moon shinned brilliant highlighting the desert in silver light but without the hashed of the sun, and cast an ominous shadow over large monuments.

The perfect night for thievery.

And he was the King of them.

He said a silent prayer to the goddess for her shadows and scaled the smooth stone obelisk with the skill of a jungle predator. Close to the top he pushed his feet against the stone, jumped into the air and swung his weight to the left. The momentum propelled him in a half circle and he landed gracefully on the adjacent ledge.

He landed with a soft thumb, his cloth slippers silent as a cat's paws. The slap of leather shoes and the clatter of armor, and he pressed himself flat against the ground. A hand smoothed the spiked mass of starlit silver hair down: his trademark, and dead visible in the darkness.

Nothing. He smirked. He rose to his knees without fear, spying the talking soldiers below. With a smirk he dashed across the buttress invisible at such a height.

Pity, his usual entrance had been cut after a little slip up the previous night by a miner miscalculation. He jumped onto the lower level and raced across the ledge, just quick enough to avoid the looks of the guards. He hid behind a pillar and felt along the wall. His fingers brushed a crack in the stone, smooth and straight and too straight to be natural. He smirked. His knives did good work. With a smirk, he turned around and grabbed the bars of the balcony and hoisted himself up.

The guards were no doubt all crowding the lower levels and the treasure cove, he'd unwittingly discovered last night. Fools, he thought. Like he'd waste his time on those worthless trinkets. So predictable, but it made his job much easier. Only to a petty thief would they be valuable. And a stupid, petty thief at that. To the Thief King they were not but were mere child's play to a Thief King. After all, he was King for a reason.

He climbed the balcony with ease, balancing his heels on the ledge, perched like a falcon searching for prey. He smirked at the thought. He hoped down with an elegant crouch, and stayed low, surprised to find no guards.

Of course, this was the Royal Chambers, specifically the Per-ah's chambers. Of course, there were no guards inside the room. He unsheathed his sais and scanned the darkness with meticulous eyes. Empty. He smirked. He always did time his mission perfectly. With the full moon, the Per-ah needed to attend the ritual of honoring Thoth. Such a ceremony could only be held at moonrise. Which meant by the time the Per-ah and his guards returned, no doubt expecting an assassination attempt; he would be long gone with his prize. Now the question is what to take? Clearly something that could only belong to the Per-ah. Something he would notice was gone. A flicker of moonlight caught his eye, he turned to it and they doubled in size.

Resting on the night stand, an inverted pyramid, crafted from solid gold and an eye of Wadjet carved in its heart, rested peacefully on a pillow. It glittered gold in defiance of the silver moonlight, beckoning him. Glowing. Like a beacon. Could there be a more obvious sign.

"Ah, perfect." A smile slit his lips; eyes glistening with delight. Gold flooded his vision. He abandoned confidence and swaggered towards the object, already imagining the faces of the Per-ah and the priests when they found their most sacred treasure gone.

His fingers barely brushed the Wadjet eye when a touch of coldness pricked his skin. Barely noticeable—if it hadn't settled on his neck: cold and sharp, gentle not to leave a mark but deep enough to boat a powerful bite. Wearily, he realized his mistake, and cursed himself for allowed his overconfidence to blind his guard.

"Very." The Thief recognized the voice. A smile slit his face, clearly picturing the smirk at the end of the blade and blazing eyes burning with a scarlet fire he knew too well. "After all, for a Thief King what greater victory is there than stealing from right under the Per-ah's nose?"

"Sneaking up on a man's back?" Bakura chuckled. Gingerly, he released his grip on the puzzle and carefully nodded his head just out reach of the prince's blade point. Just enough to tilt his head, then his shoulder, then spin around so now he was wedged between the cramped night table and the prince's blade was but an inch from his chin. "That's a dirty trick, your highness."

He smirked, coming face to face with the only one who could ever outwit him. And what a face it was: youthful with almost feminine perfection perfectly illuminating high cheek bones and a chin chiseled in a regal point, and etched into an indomitable smirk. Framed by a forelock of gold, a testament to his father's own Ra-gold hair, but so out of place compared to the mane of blazing black fire highlighted with flashes of red and purple.

Prince Atem, the only son of the Per-Ah Aknamkanon and his Great Royal Wife Adinna. An oddity among the Kemet in both beauty and presence. He was not tall compared to most men, but he seemed taller the way dancers did with their long legs, slender torso and graceful limbs, but he radiated the dominance of a man well in command: flawless in his orders and unchallenged in his authority. He boasted the figure of a dancer but not the body: his hips were slender but not femininely thin, his build slender but not an hourglass and his shoulders broad rather than bony and golden skin bronzed as if Ra himself has kissed him upon his birth. The sheer fabric of his linen tunic did nothing to conceal the strength of his forearms, tanned and corded with muscles, not his taunt legs, encased in gold from knee to ankle, white firm thighs vanished teasingly beneath the fabric of his shenti.

Prince Atem, Bakura understood with a welcoming shrill when he found himself on the wrong end of the princes' most dazzling feature: the sharp, but bright, soul searching eyes, burning scarlet and rimmed with black, both his thick lashes and of khol, focusing their flames like pools of molten fire, was simply, lovely.

"No fair." He gently touched the side of the thin blade with a cautious forefinger. He smile showed teeth: fearless and flawless, and arrogance radiated sharply in his unreadable twinkling the lavender of twilight. His smirk never faltered.

Neither did Atem's. Even when donning his most unreadable mask, there was no escaping the burning fire and there were many who had doomed themselves for underestimating that fiery gaze.

"Perhaps," Atem said in a low, clipped tone. He knew well of the Thief King's tricks. The smooth serpentine smile, the enthralling words and enticing compliments, the gentle caresses, and the flawless way he moved like a snake tantalizing a bird with its gaze and body just before baring its fangs and devouring it: all a clever rouse to avoid suspicion. And Atem was not silly bird. "But thieves don't play fair."

"Bravao," Bakura said the word in a long, drawn-out mock and clapped his hands sarcastically. "You managed to confess to a sin and scold me all in one sentence." Bakura tempted with a challenge. He hadn't removed his finger from the blade, and used just enough strength to keep it away from throat. "Well done, Atem."

Atem's smirk hardened to a frown. The open familiarity of the tone, the sheer lack of authority, and the earnest way the prince's name rolled off the thief's tongue, like greeting an old friend he'd unforgivably betrayed and returned expecting things to be the same. It made Atem's stomach lurch. It was a miracle of his will, that he didn't stiffen his back and betray his revulsion.

"That's Your highness to you, Thief King." He said it, commanded it, like a Per-ah: hard and composed, but sharp and with no room for argument. Only a thief's clever ears caught the spat in the titles and the desperation for space.

Bakura laughed instead. "Well, as much as I'd love to stay and chat," He said with fearless ease, like they were old friends parting on good terms. It would almost seem genuine if it weren't marred by the sheer arrogance of it. Atem's face scrunched for a twitch of a second but the sharp lavender eyes caught it.

Bakura took an arrogant step to the side, still holding Atem's sword, but his fear of the weapon gone, and flashed Atem a smile, a real smile that radiated the liveliness of an out-going companion rather than a merciless thief. He could almost pull it off, Atem thought, if not for the scars betraying his secret: a long jagged point starting just below his line and curling to just above his chin with two curved lines cutting through it, one just below his eye the other across his cheek, faintly pale compared to the rest of his sun-baked complexion. Yet, they seemed to enhance the beauty and sharpness of his face rather than mar it: the way it perfectly arched to the strong curve of his cheek bones and the broad point of his chin, illuminate the narrow, serpentine slits of his eyes and made the pupils sparkle like the actual twilight glittered in their pale depths.

How It brought attention to the other scars across his back and arms: the curved white cut on his shoulder, the splashes' of white across the broad, ripped canvas of his chest, bare and visible between the fold of his burgundy rope. He boasted them like badges of honor and like the King himself, they breathed mystery and enticement. How many rumors had they inspired until the Thief King had become a living folktale?

And the worst of all was not his face or his eyes, or his scars, but his hair, as Atem had learned the hard way when he gasped upon the Thief King for the first time without his hood, and came face to face with the unruly and unkept matted mess that roared and swayed with the winds, and blazed in the bright sunlight as pale and white as Horus' missing eye. It made him wonder if Ra's light had bleached it that color. Or if perhaps he was actually a phantom who'd escaped Anubis. He didn't know the truth. No one did. And it made the Thief King all the more mysterious, and all the more frightening,

It wasn't right, Atem thought, how handsome and…vigorous Bakura was despite the truth of him. Very vigorous.

And now he looked at Atem unafraid and completely amused like he were entertaining a child and was bored of humoring him. "I'm afraid I don't have time to give you the proper training required to arrest me, so..."

He took another step, to move away and walked right into a trap.

Atem's face morphed into a victorious smirk. Before Bakura could question the sudden change, Atem's hand flashed quick as lightning, and he felt the cold bite of a blade against his throat. Bakura blinked. The temptation to look down was strong, but the prickle of metal pressing into his neck was confirmation enough.

"I've been properly trained since I was five," Atem boasted, his face neutral but his eyes blazed with triumphant fire like pools of molted scarlet.

"I see," Bakura licked his dry lips and chuckled low in his throat. He spoke with admiration and no small amount of pride. "But I'm afraid your form has a very critical error."

"Have I?," Atem said without humor, eyes fixated on the still confident twilight gaze of the thief.

Bakura's smile curled at the corners. "You've forgotten: a man is not immobile when you have his neck." Bakura began, the rough voice taking on a low, seductive rasp. His eyes flashing with something Atem didn't recognize, but chilled him all the same. "But his hands."

Atem didn't have to look down to know the prick at his stomach was a knife. Too late he realized his mistake. Bakura's right hand still held Atem's sword at safe distance, but the other now held a sharp dagger poised to plunge into his gut: a faster, simpler strike than it would take to slit the man's throat, and Bakura wasn't afraid of his own blood spilling.

Atem swallowed a curse. His eyes narrowed to slits of anger, but his grip remained firm on both his weapons, his smirk unwavering. His gaze fixated on the Thief King, daring him to move.

"It seems we're at a stalemate," Bakura taunted, laughing heartily even with a blade to his throat. "So why don't you just surrender, and I'll be on my way." Bakura grinned: his eyes half lidded with something that wasn't pride and not quiet poise either. He leaned forward a fraction but Atem was ready.

"And why," Atem said remorseless, pressing he blade deeper into Bakura's neck but it didn't cut, and bit down a flinch when Bakura matched the gesture. "Would I do that?"

Bakura gave a low chuckle. "Oh don't be like that," Bakura chided with a condescending pout. His smile no longer curled, but his blazing eyes were vivacious, almost...

A chill spidered up Atem's spine. His composure shattered in shock Recognition rose like bile in his throat.

Bakura's smile curled into a predatory smirk. His blazed with what Atem now recognized perfectly as lust. "I'd hate to have to scare your lovely flesh.

Atem's reaction was quick wild, but Bakura's was quicker. Atem freed his sword and angled it to strike down, but Bakura spun to the side how that he was no longer cornered, his neck free from the knight, and blocked the sword with his knife. The frozen second was all he needed to pull a second dagger from his belt. Atem pulled back rage blazing like wild fire on his face. Bakura grinned as they circled the other like territorial lions, one fighting for land the other for mates.

They met again, in a dance of blades to the music of clashing metal and the sheen of sharpness of bronze against iron and gold. Each attack met with a block, every strike, dodged with an elegant swoop. They were evenly matched, but Atem was enraged and struck wild and savage like a hunting lion striking with its paws and teeth. Bakura sleekly danced aside and swirled, his coat blazing behind him like wings of dried blood. His knives spiraled in his hands and easily blocked each of Atem's enraged strikes.

Atem's sword came down again, but Bakura dodged it, only this time, with a victorious grin he brought the butt of his blade down on Atem's hand. The force of it knocked the sword from his hand and nearly cost him his balance but he braced his hand against the floor and swirled back, barely avoiding another strike. With a summersault he grabbed the sword and stood on the other side of the room. Too late he realized he as now positioned between Bakura's knives and the far wall. All the thief king had to do was turn around and he'd be over the balcony and on the roof before Atem could stop him. And judging from his heavy breathe, he was in no position to stop him.

"Well," Bakura grinned only slightly out of breathe, both his knives still drawn one arm parallel the other held defensively by his face. "That was fun."

Fury and shame exploded in Atem's chest. They'd never been evenly matched. Not since Bakura has started his taunting, fueling both their egos and Atem had fallen for each word. His pride was wounded and in so doing his rage ignited.

"We're not done yet." Atem growled hard and composed. He let his rage subside into a shallow pool of composure. Perhaps if he could…

"Are you trying to bait me?" Bakura interrogated, pulling back his arm and spinning the dagger in his hand like a baton.

Atem's eyes widened.

"Oh, don't look so surprised, Atem," He chuckled, enjoying when Atem flinched at his name. "You're not really this bad at composure. I'm just really good at reading people."

Atem bit back a curse. "So what will you do now, Thief?" Atem demanded. He spat the word like it was a curse. "Escape again? You know we'll just be waiting for your return."

"Don't you mean you will be waiting for my return?" Bakura taunted, hoping for a reaction. To his disappointment there was none.

"Oh fine," Bakura shook his head, and cocked a glance at the balcony. "I supposed I could. But what fun would that be?" he shrugged his shoulders, his daggers still dangerously secure in his hands. "I've broken in twice, and still haven't stolen a thing. That's not good for my reputation. And since you know what I was after, all the fun of stealing it is just gone."

"What a pity?" Atem bit sarcastically, watching Bakura stroll a bit closer.

"It really is," Bakura pouted, still smirking. "Of course, there is a way for me to salvage the situation." He taunted hoping to entice Atem. His expression didn't change but there was curiosity in those scarlet eyes as well as victory.

Suddenly Atem smirked, baiting him. "And what," he took a step forward swaying that beautiful dangers body with all the grace of a leopard about to pounce. "Would be more valuable than the Per-ah's millennium puzzle?"

Bakura's eyes flashed with surprised. It was barely there more than a second but it was enough to convince Atem, and he swayed closer.

Bakura's eyes suddenly lit up, recognizing the game. "When you put it like that then…"

Again they move like circling cats, but this time their claws and fangs retracted. No longer a territorial display of power, but a show.

"I suppose I'll have to steal something even more precious than gold. Something so rare, and so secret that everyone has, yet once it's gone you can never get it back, no matter how much to try and hide it."

He hated to admit it, but Atem was intrigued. He recognized a riddle and tried to solve it, but his attention was divided between Bakura who still held his knives at his sides, still dangerously close to escape, and his own weapons still poised to strike.

"That reeks of a riddle," Atem chided.

"That's the point," Bakura admitted. His victorious smirk blazed brighter than ever. Suddenly he sheathed his knives and once more his eyes became half-lidded with lust. "Care to guess?"

A shiver chilled Atem's spine. His grip on his sword loosening, but his face remained composed, even as his heard drummed in his chest so loud he could hear it echo, and prayed the Thief King didn't hear it too. Bakura stepped closer. Atem's gripped tightened on his swords but Bakura was unphased.

"Give up?" he taunted.

"Never!" Atem said immediately. No longer was this about the riddle. He lunged forward, and so did Bakura. Atem expected an attack, and raised his swords. Instead, Bakura swooped past them and landed between Atem's outstretched arms. Atem's face a mask of shock Bakura took his chin and cheeks between his hands and pressed a kiss to his lips.

The blades dropped from Atem's hand, but they made no move to assist him. His eyes expanded in shock. His body betrayed his commands and his mind froze, leaving Atem unable to do anything but stand rock still.

Bakura was kissing him!

The kiss was hard: Bakura's lips were coarse and he was by no means gentle. It was searing, deep and held a trace of punishment, not in anger but of a scolding lover, and there was a hint of tender affection as will, barely audible but Atem felt it nonetheless, and—dare he admit it—enjoyed it.

And Bakura tasted every inch of Atem's shock and secret delight. He pressed his lips deeper savoring every inch of Atem's taste: it was just like him exotic and spicy like tasting fire, and I surprised him how much he enjoyed it. He hadn't meant to. His true intent was to punish and taunt, but the soft lips smooth and seductive and he wanted nothing more than to claim them.

He stuck out his tongue for a quick taste then pulled away, licking his lips. "Tell me," Still holding the prince's chin he met those glorious ruby eyes and whispered. "What could possibly be rarer, than the prince's first kiss?"

The small flicker was enough to galvanize Atem's thoughts. The gravity of what just happened, what he just did, came crashing down with the weight of a pyramid. Fire burned Atem's very being and in a fit of rage, fingers curled into a fist he lunged, screaming. "Why you son of a—"

But Bakura was quicker and caught his punch and pulled him forward so Atem crashed hard into his chest. Heat rose in his belly when his cheek and finger trips brushed the hard, firm chest, muscles pulsating under his fingers with heat, an alluring scent rolled off his skin like a rich perfume drawing in its unsuspecting victim with its musk. Against his will, Atem flushed.

Bakura smirked sinfully, pulling Atem from his flushed position like the man was a doll and hold Bakura hands were keeping him upright.

"Now, I make my leave." Bakura purred and with a spin he was on the balcony and crouched on the ledge ready to jump. He turned back to Atem with a final sinful smirk and tapped two fingers to his forehead. "Ta ta,"

That was his final mistake. Atem's nerve shot brain processed everything in a split second and suddenly his eyes blazed with wildfire and his fury rose with all the savagery of an angry lion. "You bastard!" He shot forward, claws flexed and Bakura barely had time to jump before Atem was on the balcony.

Bakura landed on the roof and bolted down the corridor but to his surprise Atem was after him. "Get back here you son of a bitch!" He roared savage and with unyielding determination.

Bakura laughed loud and boisterous, looking over his shoulder as he ran. "Now, don't tell me one little kiss made you so upset?" he taunted, and Atem ran faster. Quickly, Bakura grabbed a pillar and whirled himself up onto the next landing. Atem skidded to a stop just before the obelisk ended and followed him. Bakura was impressed, and hoped to a lower ledge, but Atem was right behind him. The racket alerted the guards below who gasped in horror and shock at the sight of their prince chasing the Thief King across the roof. Alarms were sounded, soldiers piling into the night but the ruckus was a mere whisper of wind to the two on the roof, one chasing and hunting like a lion determined to make a kill, the other a graceful, taunting expertly acrobatic herbivore, not even concerned for its safety.

Bakura whirled around again and this time when Atem lunged at him he grabbed his wrists with the skill of a seasoned fighter and held them tight. Atem screamed and fought but Bakura's hands were like vices around his thin wrists and the adrenaline fueled sprint had zapped his strength and he could do nothing when Bakura pinned him against the obelisk, wrists level with his head and a knee wedged between his slim thighs.

Bakura licked his lips like a predator about to reveal its fangs: lavender eyes shiny with hunger and lust. Atem hardened his gaze and grit his teeth, determined to fight and not fall to the way of prey. "Release me!" Atem demanded with the authority of a King, but the curled savagery of a caged lion.

Bakura cocked his head to the side, cobra-like feigning confusion and curiosity before it bit. "And why would I do that," his whispered, hissing like a cobra in his hear, his knee rubbing dangerously up Atem's thigh, and the shock of it nearly left him frozen once again. "When I get such a delightful reaction from you?"

A lion and a cobra: like Ra and Apep. One a sleuth jungle cat all fur, and teeth, and claws; the other sleek and dangerous, and enthralling eyes and graceful bows of his body and secret, hidden, fangs that produced venom with each bite. Except the cat never gave into the snake.

With all his might Atem bunched his knee and slammed it hard into Bakura's thigh. At Atem's height and at this angle, he'd missed the man's vulnerable groin, and lacked any true strength, but the force and shock was enough for Bakura to release him. The Thief King stumbled back and Atem took the opportunity to punch him square across the jar.

"Apep and all devils!" Bakura cursed and straightened his jaw.

"That's for that kiss!" Atem growled and aimed for another punch but Bakura was quick to dodge it and caught Atem's other wrist before his own force could knock the prince over. He spun Atem into his arms again. "If this is how you react to a kiss," Bakura purred, and kissed Atem's cheek, then but released him before Atem could use the new position to his advantage. "I can't wait to see how you react to losing your virtue." A sinful smile, and devilish wink, and a hop over the ledge and he was gone.

Realizing what just happened, Atem rushed to the side of the balcony. A dash of white flashed across the night, but then it was gone.

The bastard had gotten away.

"Son of a—" Atem hissed, but his fingers rose to tentatively touch the spot where he'd been kissed. His fingers trembled to his lips, and fear rose in his throat when he thought he felt a bruise.

"Atem!" the Prince spun around: his father and the priests running towards him. Now aware of his surroundings, he saw he'd chased the Thief King to the lower levels.

"Are you alright?" The Per-Ah asked concerned. "What happened?"

"Bakura," Atem snarled through clenched teeth. "The Thief King fell for my trap, but he came prepared. I fought him, I chased him, and he escaped." His voice morphed into a roar of disgust. "He escaped!"

"Perhaps," the Per-ah mollified his son and gently squeezed his shoulders. "But you stopped him and he left empty-handed."

The words filled Atem with shame. "No," he confessed suddenly feeling heat pool in his belly, and his heart pound, but it wasn't from revulsion, or shame. "He didn't."

Atem snapped and pushed through the crowd without another word. "But next time I fight him," he declared boldly, flames of determination and something else, blazed vigorous and wild. "He won't escape."

He was unaware of the smile those words brought to the figure hidden in the shadow just underneath the balcony, where a small alcove provided the perfect hiding place where the guards chased the flash of white they saw in the clearing. Bakura chuckled, normally he'd be amused that they fell for the decoy, instead he felt insulted the Prince didn't chase after it.

It mattered not. He could still hear the fire in the Prince's words. The bold declaration of war against him. The thrill of the chase, the rush of desire, even if he kept it secret from even himself.

Bakura slid from his alcove hiding place and dropped to the ground in a crouch. And sprinted to the wall. He was over it in a matter of seconds, and once in the alleys and streets of Memphis even the most skilled trackers couldn't find him. Once on the safety of a household roof he dared a glance back at the palace. He wondered which lighted room was Atem's and the imagination of that fire and the bold words sent a thrill straight to his groin.

A sinful smile slit his face that even the most devious serpent would be envious of, even as the ache in his jaw warned him of caution. Fire still burned after all.

The chase had been ignited. It wouldn't be the last time he tasted the Prince's sweet fire. And if the Thief King got his way, he'd be tasting far more than just Atem's fire.