If You Feel Better

Chapter 21

Dirt and sand kicked up from the stone of the palace floor under Aya's feet, creating dust clouds with each step. The wind whipped past her ears as she ran full speed to the throne room. She had started to think that she would never see the palace again. This place that she had once wanted to escape from, she was now overjoyed to return to.

"Father!" she called out as she ran. "Father, I'm here! I'm home!"

She sprinted past stunned guards and shocked patrolmen, but she heeded them no mind. She skidded around corners and pillars effortlessly, not slowing down for even a second.

"Father!" she continued to yell.

"Aya!" the familiar booming voice finally called back.

She saw him. That unforgettable spiky hair, short stature, and royal gold jewelry. He ran full sprint towards her, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. They met in the middle, smashing together into a long-awaited hug, and cried tears of joy while squeezing the life out of each other.

"Father," Aya blubbered happily, wiping her eyes when she finally pulled away. "I've missed you so much."

"Aya," Pharaoh Atem cried, cupping his daughter's cheeks in his hands and searching per pained eyes. "Are you alright? What did he do to you?"

Aya shook her head, wiping more tears from her eyes. "I have so much to tell you, father."

Squeezing her hands tightly, he said "Come, let's get you inside. I'm sure you could use a relaxing bath and something to eat."

He brought her into the throne room and ordered Priestess Isis to draw a bath and for the royal chef to roast a wild bird with eggs and some milk. Aya wanted to immediately start telling him everything, but he insisted that she relax for a minute. He wouldn't hear of anything otherwise.

~

Aya sighed out all of her stress and tensions as she melted into the soothing bath Isis made for her. The water was heated ever so slightly so it would be just below room temperature. In a hot, brutal climate such as Egypt, the last thing someone wanted was a steaming bath.

"Here you go, Princess," Isis said, returning to the room and placing some thin, linen towels on a small, round wooden table next to the bath. "Some nice, fresh towels to dry you off when you're ready." She sat down in the chair beside the table and waited should Aya need anything.

Having a servant present while one of the royal family was bathing wasn't uncommon. They were doted on hand and foot and were not expected to stop what they were doing for something as trivial as fetching a towel. Even if that weren't the case, Aya was still grateful to have someone by her after all that had transpired during her time with Bakura.

"Thank you, Isis," she said. She sighed; this time distressed. "Isis, how have things been in the palace since I've been gone?"

Isis shook her head sadly, hesitating on answering her honestly. "It has been chaos, Princess," she answered. "The sacred guardians were constantly fighting. We all had different ideas of what to do and could not agree. Meanwhile, your father was distraught. He was starting to lose hope. You were the only thing on his mind."

Aya nodded, listening closely. She figured that her father would be worried sick, but she didn't think that the guardians would've fallen apart. If I had just listened to my father to begin with, none of this would've happened, she thought. I almost destroyed the whole kingdom. "This is all my fault, Isis," she said barely above a whisper. "I'm so sorry for everything. If I could go back and undo it all, I would." Her eyes started to water with unfallen tears.

"No," Isis disagreed, shaking her head. "This is not your fault, Princess. You wanted to be free. No one can fault you for that. Bakura is the menace. He is the one causing the mayhem. It's by his choices that we are suffering."

Aya was quiet, contemplating Isis's words. She couldn't fully agree with her. "Is this going to have an end, Isis?" she asked, a tear dropping from her cheek into the still water surrounding her.

Priestess Isis put a loving hand on Aya's shoulder. "Yes, Princess. It will. We are going to do everything in our power to stop Bakura from hurting you again. This must stop."

~

After having her fill of the most delicious food in all the land, Aya rested in her room, alone. She laid back on her comfortable bed, sighing as she sunk into the mattress like melting butter. She stared up at the familiar ceiling, feeling almost surreal upon seeing it again. For a long time, she thought she would never again lay eyes upon it. It brought her a sense of comfort, a sense of safety.

But Bakura was able to kidnap me from here already, she thought to herself. I'm not safe here, even if it's my own bedroom. And just like that, the feeling of safety was gone.

A knock on the door jerked her roughly out of her thoughts. Her father meekly peered in, afraid to disturb his traumatized daughter. "Aya," he said softly. "Can I come in?"

Aya relaxed that it was only her father and said "Sure."

He sat down next to her on the bed and took her beaten up hands into his own. Solemnly, he stared at her face. Now clean, it showed the unmistakable cuts and scratches in various stages of healing that she had endured at the hands of Bakura.

"Aya," the pharaoh whispered. "Tell me everything. Tell me what Bakura has done to you."

Aya shook her head, not knowing where to begin. "He . . . He kept me deep underground, from lair to lair. He has multiple lairs, father. Did you know that?"

"I did not," he admitted. "But that explains why we have had such trouble locating you. How did he manage to take you in the first place? We woke up one day and you had just vanished in the night."

"He said that our palace defenses are a joke. He kidnapped me himself. He was able to sneak in and out without any problems. So he says."

The pharaoh sunk even lower. He had thought it was impossible to feel any more useless, but he was proven wrong. His thoughts raced to the vision Isis had before Aya had returned, the horrible abuse she had said his daughter was enduring. "He didn't . . . hurt you, did he?"

Just from the look in his eyes, Aya knew what he was really asking, not wanting to come to terms with it if he didn't have to. "No, father," she stated, squeezing his hands tighter. "He did not hurt me."

He let out a relieved sigh, feeling a huge weight lifting off his chest. "At least there's that." He shifted closer to Aya, tears running down his cheeks. "Aya, I never want this to happen to you again, but the truth is . . . I don't know how to protect you," he confessed, ashamed. "If this time of having you missing has proven anything, it's that I can't take care of my own daughter. I can't keep her safe. I can't protect her, not even as pharaoh of Egypt. I'm unsure of what to do." He paused, the pain of his admittance wreaking havoc on his soul. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I have failed you, both as your king and as your father."

Aya's heart broke from his humbling words, pressing his hands against her heart. "It's not your fault," she wept, following suit. "I don't blame you, father. Not one bit. We'll get through this. He returned me. There must be a reason as to why. Even if he never bothers me again, I will not let him walk this country freely. Please don't worry. We'll take him down. Together."