Hello! The Duelist's Heiress and Rugrat247 here. Firstly, we're joining forces (aka. coauthoring) for this fic. This is our account for any stories we write together. If you like Marik, feel free to check out the fics on our separate accounts. If not, err, why are you here? It's important that you read the AN below. :)
AN: This fic has A'isha and Amara as two important OCs, one of which we must somehow have Marik fall for and vice versa. If you've read Toying With My Emotions (TWME) by Rugrat247, you may notice that A'isha and Amara are two main OCs from that fic. An explanation? Well, this story is kind of like an alternate universe (AU) fic of TWME. Really, it's in canon (eg. Marik forms the Rare Hunters and competes in Battle City, whereas he doesn't in TWME.) The Duelist's Heiress came up with the basic idea for this fic. Well, enough said.
Summary: A'isha only knows Marik's name; nothing about the man behind the name, just as Marik knows something about the girl who knows his name, and yet he doesn't know her name.
We hope you enjoy the prologue of In A Name!
Prologue: A Freudian Slip
His eyes scanned the report on his desk, surprised at his own self control, considering something had not gone according to plan. He scanned the report for a name…vexed by the fact that whoever transcribed this needed to work on their penmanship. He had already found his own name. That was the problem. A smirk crossed his features as he found the one responsible for this Freudian Slip.
He set the report aside, fingering a golden object that lay on his lap. His hypnotic voice echoed softly with a lightly malicious rasp. "Bring Micheas to the Throne room."
The cool room was completely bare, save for three short steps, trailing to a grand, golden throne; a cloaked figure, face shrouded in darkness, occupied this throne, an icy air about him as he stared down the shaking man presently stooped low before him. The figure's expression was remorseless, striking such fear into the man that he was almost frozen in utter terror, with the exception of his involuntary trembling; it seemed his words were the only thing he was able to control, but even they came out as pitiful stutters.
"It-it was a-a slip of the t-tongue," the unfortunate man stammered as pallor swept mercilessly across his face.
"It doesn't matter," the figure stated with a cruel smirk. "Someone who has avoided getting convicted as many times as you have should know that a mere slip of the tongue makes all the difference."
"Pl-please, Master," the man begged, already knowing what horror fate had in store for him. "It-it won't happen a-again!"
The callous figure he'd addressed as 'Master' chuckled darkly. "You're right, you fool." His eyes flashed with ruthlessness as he ominously raised a golden object. "I'll make certain of that."
"No!" The man's eyes widened in overwhelming fear. "Master! Please! NO—"
"Silence!" the callous figure yelled as his beseeching victim's pitiful, ear-piercing screams bounced continuously off the metal walls and in a flash of light, the man slumped to the floor. Still. Soulless. He was gone.
"One should know the cost of an infamous slip of the tongue," the figure whispered softly.
Seconds later, another cloaked figure stepped out from the shadows, which dominantly clawed at the edges of the room. "Master Marik, should we send some Hunters after the girl?" The man's tone was deep and respectful.
A cunning smirk tugged at Marik's lips. "No." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "I've something far more entertaining in mind."
We hope you enjoyed the prologue! Now if you'd kindly click the little button below, please. We'd love to know what you think so far. The Duelist's Heiress and Rugrat247, signing out.