Milk, milk, lemonade, around the corner fudge is made. I don't understand it much. Anyways, RRE!

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Malik woke up. The sunlight was peeking through the prison's cell's door. He stretched and rolled over. Yami Malik's sleeping form greeted him. Malik then remembered. Quickly, he stood up and rushed to the entrance. No one was near. He gathered his clothes and pulled on his robe. The town outside was just beginning to wake up. Malik slipped outside and bid farewell to the slave.

Malik did not meet Isis on the way home. She was probably floating around the pharaoh about now. He stopped himself. What would happen with her? Would they still get married? Malik shook his head at the thought of it. He had never wanted to marry her. It was a 'priest's duty' Seto had once said. Continuing on, Malik reached his room and flopped down onto the bed. His thoughts were plagued with worry. He flipped over on his mattress and buried his face into a pillow. Its softness was so forgiving. He cradled it in his arms. Sleep came and Malik welcomed its comforting touch.

Something tightened at his throat. Malik was ripped into consciousness. A hand was clasped around his neck and he was raised off the ground. It was one of the pharaoh's guards. "Huh?" Malik whispered. His trachea felt like it would collapse. The man shoved a bundle of cloth into his mouth and then wrapped its end around the priest's head. Malik silently screamed as his arms were twisted behind his back. His limbs were tied together and Malik could not move. The muscled guard thoughtlessly picked up the priest and headed out the door. He threw him onto the back of a wagon. Malik's head hit the floor hard. Blackness filled his world.

The fuzzy feeling of consciousness seeped into Malik's aching body. He moaned as he tried to lift his head. The simple movement shot pain down his neck and he bit his gag. Malik saw that he was in an empty room. It had polished marble floor and tall pillars that seemed to lead to nowhere. His wrists were handcuffed behind his back and the chain led to a notch in the floor. Malik pulled at it with almost no strength. He was not injured, just sore. The sound of footsteps approached. Someone could help him.

A tall figure entered the room. He was wearing his usual High Priest attire. It was Seto. But, he was alone. Malik turned his head slightly so that he could look up at Seto without pain. The high priest strolled up to Malik. He placed his foot on him and pushed the captive over. Malik rolled onto his back and spat the gag out. "Why are you doing this!?" Malik exclaimed from the floor.

"You," Seto spat. "I know what you did, you vermin." He picked up his cane and smacked Malik's face with it. "You betrayed my sister, you fucking faggot!"

Malik coughed up blood. "I am sorry Seto," he lied. He crawled up to Seto's feet and bowed his head to the ground. Seto kicked him hard. Malik's mangled mass hit the marble. He scrambled to upright himself.

"Do you not know who I am!? I am the High Priest! I am supposed to be respected. You and Isis were supposed to get married! Her heart will be broken now! I am trying to keep Egypt prosperous! I work and toil and now I get this!?" he yelled. Seto reared back and hit Malik in the side of the chest. The priest recoiled. He had all the wind knocked out of him and now panted for air.

"Who?" Malik mumbled between breaths.

"Who what?"

"Who told you?"

"The Pharaoh's slave. The boy came to tell in the middle of the night. He told me of the slave. It took me a while to believe that someone as noble as Priest Malik would do such a disgusting thing, you damn homosexual. Yuugi came to me first. Pharaoh Yami does not know of this yet. He would probably let you off and dismiss it as a lie. Weakling. I will take care of your punishment." Seto strolled about the room as he talked. He wore a sadistic grin.

Malik lowered his head. How could he do such a foolish thing? But, he loved Yami Malik. He did not love Isis. Malik shook his head. "I love Yami Malik!" he proclaimed.

Seto stopped his pace. "The slave? Slaves are lower than us. Although, I think you have lowered yourself to his level."

Malik looked up through his swollen eye. "How could I marry someone related to you? He is better."

Seto was taken aback by the priest's arrogance. He glared at Malik with a new deep hatred. "Do you want to know where he got those scars on his back from?"

Seto walked behind Malik. He returned with a coil of rope. Unwinding it, Malik noticed that it was a long whip. Seto reached down and pulled Malik's robe down so it only clung to his hips. The high priest raised the whip up and over his shoulder. He brought the whip down with a fierce anger and an ear splitting crack. Its end left a burning line on Malik's tattooed back. He cried out in pain. Seto struck again and again leaving thin, red lines all over Malik's bare skin. Blood began to drip down his thighs and stain his white robe. He turned his head around to stare at his torturer.

"Please," Malik pleaded for merci. The look on Seto face became angrier. He pulled back to strike again. Then suddenly, his expression changed. His eyes grew wide and his mouth hung open. Seto fell to his knees and then flat face forward onto the ground. Malik looked down at the body. A large dagger's handle stuck out of his back. Crimson liquid flowed out of the wound. The high priest was dead.

Yami Malik stood behind the body. He seemed almost surprised. The slave looked down at his trembling hands. They were covered in blood. Malik felt so weak from pain. He fell to his side. Yami Malik leaned forward and caught him. Malik gazed up at him. Yami Malik's eyes were so deep and entrancing. They held Malik with a soothing embrace yet scared him with the fire that burned within them. Yami Malik smiled. He reached over and took the ring of keys from Seto. The chains feel heavy on the ground. Malik was free.

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This ain't over yet. More to come! Review if you want.