Her body hung, a dead weight, chin sagging to her chest. Sound returned first — a thin, hissing static. All other sensations lagged behind.
Cold metal bit into her wrists.
Chains rattled. Pain shot down her arms.
She froze.
Her wrists were shackled above her head.
How long have I been like this?
Her legs sprawled across cold stone. She tried to steady her breathing, but her body betrayed her.
She sagged in the filth, trembling. Limp hair clung to her face. Her eyes struggled to adjust. The darkness pressed heavily, smothering what little sight she had.
Memory struck. Fear followed instantly.
A storm. Black clouds.
The winds begged her to run.
But she stayed.
Then… Nothing.
The Pharaoh. No—
Her eyes searched the empty room.
Where is he?
She called his name. It broke into a sob as the pain shot through her arms.
It was futile; these chains were not budging.
"He is not here. You will never find him. He will never find you."
She never backed away.
Never had.
Yet she felt herself shrinking into the cold stone wall at the voice that came from around her.
"Who are you? What have you done to me?"
She couldn't hide the tremor in her voice.
A low chuckle scraped along the walls.
"I told you, you've been in my way far too long."
Features separated from the dark.
A loose, arrogant stride. Wild, unruly hair.
The air around him felt wrong.
Then he came into view.
Every instinct screamed danger.
His slim frame lied about the danger he carried.
Something about him made her skin crawl.
"The Bandit King… Bakura," She wasn't sure if it was a question or not.
She'd seen his face sketched on warning posters.
He was a threat to her Pharaoh. She would know his face.
Now. This was him.
"Still as perceptive as ever," he rubbed his young chin, "even after all this time."
"Y-you..." The cold of the cell seeped into her bones. Her lip trembled. "Wh-what have you d-done to h-him?"
"Still thinking about your Pharaoh?"
A soft laugh. "Even now."
His laugh scraped the walls as he stepped forward. A cold finger hooked beneath her chin and forced her face up.
"You should be more concerned with what I've done to you."
He flicked her chin and it fell in exhaustion, straight down into her chest.
His gaze moved over her like a butcher judging meat. Her clothes were battered and torn, exposing much more of herself than she would have liked.
The hairs on her arms rose. Like she was prey.
Under his gaze, old fears surged back. Small. Helpless. Hunted. Everything that led her to chase to strength and power.
He must have seen it in her eyes; a sickening grin came over his face. He knelt down; his hand slid up her bare leg.
She tried to knock it away.
The chains made her fail.
"These aren't iron," he murmured.
His touch travelled higher. Slow. Deliberate.
Claiming space that wasn't his.
Her stomach twisted. Her skin crawled.
She was powerless.
Clenching her eyes shut, she tried to suppress herself. This is a dream, she repeated it to herself over and over, this is a dream, a nightmare, soon I'll wake up, and Atem will be there. He'll wake me up…
He'll come for me.
A very real voice dragged her back to her horrendous reality.
"They bind more than flesh."
He grabbed at her chin, digging his fingers into her jaw as he made her look at him.
She tensed away, sending an ache travelling through her shoulders that brought out a pained groan.
A satisfied smile cracked his face.
"A soul shackle," he said softly.
He stood and gestured to the cell.
"Your soul stays here."
A smile.
"You will never interfere again."
Terror rumbled through her, and the tears came without warning.
He'll come for me…
"Whatever your p-planning, it won't – work."
She spoke more softly than she wanted.
He'll come for me… Won't he?
Where was the woman from the pits?
The one who could take a punch and still win?
The one who feared nothing?
This trembling thing in chains wasn't her.
A ruined shell of the woman she once was.
The shame was unbearable.
"Oh, little cub," a hand gripped her neck with a ferociousness she had never experienced before, not even in the fighting pits.
"What will your Pharaoh do," he whispered, "without his champion?"
He stepped back and the dark swallowed him whole.
With eyes widening in shock, she questioned her reality. So much had happened that it was hard to know what was real or not.
What was past, or present?
Was he ever here? But his touch, she shivered at the memory, it felt so real.
She was glad of the darkness at this moment.
Glad that there was no way to see her reflection.
To see the state she had become, and so quickly. Every time she had moved closer to the Pharaoh, something came to drag them apart.
Her role was as his protector.
And now—
She was broken.