If You Feel Better

Chapter 41

Aya sat on a bed she had never seen before, but similar to all the others: ornate, soft, and expensive. It was another unlit bedroom: hers and Bakura's, but in yet another lair she had only entered for the first time. She hadn't seen Bakura since she arrived. He tossed her in the room and left. Nothing out of the ordinary. She had gotten used to such treatment by now.

She silently stared off into space, eyes listless and faded. She listened to the men that guarded the hallways chatting amongst themselves, voices made clearer by the abundant silence around them.

"I had two women myself," one bragged to the others. "I was enjoying myself a great deal before the master called us to action."

"I robbed ten sacks of gold before we were called. Then, I killed myself thirteen people thereafter," another said with much pride.

"I killed a bunch also. This one kid wouldn't stop crying, begging me to let him go. It was almost quite sad. He's not crying anymore, I'll tell you that."

They were boasting about their illicit activities during Aya's party. They discussed a myriad of horrible things that they had done to one victim after another, laughing heartily as if it was all a lighthearted game.

Aya picked at her fingernails thoughtlessly as she listened, eyes wide and unblinking. Their words echoed like sinister torture in her mind, vivid pictures of her citizens' final moments at the hands of Bakura's men. She could practically hear their screams and see their faces contorted into terrified expressions.

The two halves of her perturbed brain inaudibly conversed between each other, a heated debate drowning out any unnecessary sensory information. They must've been in such pain, she thought with a heavy sense of guilt. Those poor people. What horrible ways to die. There's nothing you could've done.

Of course there was something you could do. If you had signed the contract, they'd still be alive.

You can't do that. You can't hand over the country to Bakura.

Why not? At least people wouldn't die!

Of course they'd still die! Living under the regime of Bakura? They'd still be dead if not starving or living in poverty or surrounded by war!

That's still better than dying. At least if they're alive, there's hope. Maybe it's time to placate to his wishes, and then figure out a plan from there.

And do what from there? A beast in control of the country, Egypt fallen to ruin, and several children created with him. What do you think you can do at that point? Good luck explaining to your children why you murdered their father. Or yourself.

Don't even think of something like that! What is that going to do? You know more about Bakura than anyone else does! You are a powerful weapon against him! You can't take that away when it's needed most!

Please, as if you can do anything. It's your job to protect the people. And look at how well that's working out. They're dying faster and in larger numbers than history's every seen! All because you won't sign a stupid paper.

That paper means everything.

"Hey! Aya!" Bakura snapped his fingers in front of Aya's eyes twice, snapping her out of her stupor.

Aya jumped back in reality with a jolt, blinking rapidly as she came back to her current environment. She rubbed her eyes back into focus to find Bakura dumping an armful of valuable goodies on the table in the room. "Oh, sorry," she said.

"You were lost deep in your own thoughts," he stated, sifting through his items and spreading them out thoroughly. "Must've been something good."

Aya didn't answer, deciding against saying anything about her inner quarrel. "It's nothing," she lied.

Bakura didn't bother to press, knowing full well that something was on her mind. He wasn't particularly interested. He was busy admiring some of his men's finest pickings they had been storing from the party.

"Bakura," Aya spoke up.

"Hmm?" he hummed, lifting up a golden necklace to scrutinize closer.

"What would you do as pharaoh?"

The necklace clunked back to the table from Bakura's frozen fingers. He found himself caught completely off-guard by Aya's question. "What?" he asked, turning to look at her over his shoulder, wondering if he had heard her incorrectly.

"If I agreed to marry you and you became pharaoh, what would you do?" she asked again.

It felt as if someone took the world and flipped it upside down, changing everything he knew. Bakura was stunned speechless, eyeing the princess suspiciously. "I already told you. I would rule with an iron fist and bring darkness upon Egypt," he explained, excitement beginning to build in his chest as he spoke. "You, Zorc, and I would have anything and everything! And the first thing I would do is drive my knife into your father's heart and watch the life leave his eyes!" He paused, dropping his growing grin and dampening his exhilaration. "But why? Are you suddenly agreeing to marry me?"

"No," Aya emphasized, making it clear that that was not what she was doing. "I've just been doing a lot of thinking."

"And what have you thought about?" he asked, leaning up against the table, now fully engaged in the conversation.

"I've thought about . . . how this is going to end."

"How's what going to end?"

"This," she answered, gesturing all around them. "What is your end game here?"

"My end game is marrying you and taking control of Egypt. Once I have all the power I need, all that's left to do is to enjoy the fruits of my labor."

Aya stayed quiet for a moment, thinking over Bakura's words, as well as reviewing her options. More and more people were getting hurt the longer this drew on. More and more soldiers were dying, draining her father's army further and further with each siege. Soon, her father wouldn't have enough people to defend the palace. The situation was growing worse and worse. She was running out of time.

Noticing her mind fading away again, Bakura spoke. "What's going through that pretty head of yours?" he asked, teasing.

Aya paused, but finally answered. ". . . Can I see the marriage contract?"

Bakura lurched forward, utterly shocked at what he was hearing. He didn't believe his own ears, but it was obvious that she said the words he thought he'd never hear. "There's no use in tearing it up," he warned, believing that she was simply going to destroy it. "Getting another one easy. A single coin can buy a dozen of them."

"I know," Aya said. "Ripping it up would be pointless. I just want to read it."

Bakura eyed her with great suspicion, but she did not waver. She was serious. Eventually, he reached into his robe and pulled out the piece of paper, unfolding it meticulously before handing it over to her.

Aya felt the thick paper between her fingers, all the tiny words jumbling before her eyes. But on the bottom, clear as day, was Bakura's signature already written, dark black ink long dried. Underneath that was an empty space, just waiting for her to write her own.

"Can I keep this?" she asked, looking up at Bakura from her spot on the bed.

"What for?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not signing it . . . right now," she said, piquing the interest of Bakura. "But I want to keep it to read over and think about it."

Could this really be happening? Bakura thought, staring intensely at the contract in Aya's hands. He felt the excitement build once again, but kept it hidden from the princess's gaze. Is the princess finally going to give in? He shrugged and answered "Keep it. Just remember that buying another one is the easiest thing in the world if you tear it in half."

"I'm not. You don't need to worry."

With one last extreme suspect look, Bakura quietly left the room, satisfied. He didn't know if he could keep himself composed in front of the princess any longer, so he left to find a secluded place where he could vent in peace.

Aya on the other hand, stayed in place, staring down at the paper in her hands with a vacant expression, as if there weren't words on the page, but only a picture. Can I really surrender and marry Bakura? she asked herself with great concern.