Princess, Crown Not Included

Be ready ten minutes after last bells. One of my men will meet you at the fountain of purity.
-Bakura

Ariam read the message five times before she realized there was nothing else to read. The note was so short. She had always believed that thieves and criminals communicated in some sort of highly complex code, yet here were instructions as clear as day for anyone to read and associate with her, thanks to the large letters on the outside of the folded papyrus that spelled her name. Sighing, she glanced around for her incense burner and held the edge of the note to the glowing embers till it caught light, a glance out of the window helping her work out how long she had till last bells.

********
“You are Ariam?” a cold voice asked from the shadows behind the girl. Wheeling round, she was confronted with a tall figure cloaked in black, almost indistinguishable from the darkness around him save for the glint of violet that was his eyes. She decided he must be the man Bakura had sent to fetch her and nodded- she doubted many other cloaked men in the city would know her name. Returning the nod coldly, the man grabbed her hand roughly and pulled her away, silencing her protests with the subtle flash of a knife on his forearm. “Hurry up, we have far to ride.”

“Why couldn’t Bakura have come for me himself?” Ariam demanded, incensed, as the man climbed up onto his horse and yanked her up after him. “I’m not good enough for that?”

“My lord is busy with his own matters,” was the short reply. Nothing Ariam said could provoke further response.

Unlike her companion, Ariam had clearly never ridden in the desert at night before. The freezing wind that flung stinging sand against every inch of her skin and drew gasps and shrieks from her barely seemed to faze him at all, and when they arrived at the rough-hewn entrance to Bakura’s hideout, he had to stand for almost five minutes, feigning patience badly, while she brushed sand out of her hair and clothes, shivering and complaining bitterly.

“Wait here,” he drawled as they arrived at a heavy-looking cypress wood door after a trek down a winding passageway. Not waiting for a response, he rapped three times on the door. Footsteps sounded behind the wood, before the door was flung open to reveal Bakura, looking, to put it lightly, rather annoyed.

“This had better be so good even the gods are listening with bated breath, I gave clear instruction we were not to be disturbed,” he growled, leaning one hand on the lintel as the other held the door closed enough to obscure the room.

"Your woman, my lord, as requested," the man replied, bowing slightly. Bakura's already cold stare iced over completely.

"My woman, you say..." he muttered silkily, grabbing a handful of the man's light-coloured hair and dragging his terrified gaze into his. "Tell me, Akmir, is she more beautiful than Isis?"

"She is, my lord," the man replied, a note of fear lacing his voice, obviously recognizing the tone of the question. Ariam shrank back into the shadows where she hid a little.

"And does she have eyes paler than the summer sky?" the thief king demanded sweetly. Akmir nodded slightly, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "And does her hair shine like polished onyx?" Another nod. A small smirk curled Bakura's lips, as he tightened his grip on the man's hair. "Why, then, you must be talking about Ariam. And from this moment onwards, whether she is in earshot or not, Akmir, I shall expect that you refer to her as either "lady Ariam" or "my lady". Are we clear, or do I have to repeat myself?" he finished sweetly. The rapidly paling Akmir shook his head. Seemingly satisfied, Bakura released his hair, and the man melted into the darkness, pulling his hood over his head. Watching him leave, Bakura gave a soft, cold laugh and glanced around for Ariam. Warily, she stepped out from the shadows, taking his outstretched hand.

"You didn't have to do that," she told him, returning the deceptively soft embrace he wrapped her in. He laughed softly.

"On the contrary, it was completely necessary," he answered. "People like him need to be put into their place." He gestured into the room, stepping back to open the door for her. "I have someone I think you'll be very interested to see." Casting him a questioning glance, the ice-eyed girl stepped into the room, glancing around the dark sandstone chamber curiously, taking in every piece of finery, the gold vases and finely embroidered carpets that looked completely out of place in the roughly hewn room. Mutely, she followed Bakura's guiding hand on her back, leading her into an antechamber of sorts, filled with three massive divan couches and a low golden table covered in papyrus. And a familiarly black-haired figure that looked suspiciously like...

"Master Karim?" Ariam gasped, her eyebrows shooting upwards as she stopped dead in her tracks. Bakura laughed and took a seat on one of the divans as Karim rose from his seat and stiffly bowed, his expression clearly displaying his displeasure at the change of situation.

"Ariam," he muttered by way of greeting, sitting down sharply. Nodding slightly, Ariam took a tentative seat next to Bakura, smiling slightly as she felt his fingers weave around his.

"Play nice, Karim," the thief warned with a grin, amused at the stiffness that had suddenly gripped the up-till-now relaxed priest. "Ariam won't tell, will you, love?" Ariam shook her head. "And I think I can trust you as well, my priest. Now," he continued, suddenly business-like, "let us see what we come out with when we pool our knowledge, shall we? What do we know so far about the visiting Libyans?"

"Only that they are coming in less than a month," Karim supplied, grim with frustration at his lack of knowledge. Ariam smirked slightly and cleared her throat.

"Then it seems I know more than you do, my priest," she chimed sweetly, putting a little sarcasm into the last two words as she reveled in finally outranking him. "Apparently, this is not merely a political visit, the entire court is being brought. Including the queen and her women." She turned to Bakura, a small pout of confusion on her lips. "Odd, is it not?"

"Odd indeed," the thief mused. Karim gaped.

"How do you know that?" he demanded, his eyes burning in anger that he had not been let into the secret.

"We got the messenger drunk," Ariam supplied, shivering at the memory of the little party they had thrown for Djakare. Tutting in ingrained disapproval, it was clear that he was nonetheless impressed.

********

"Do I have to go?" Ariam complained, attaching herself solidly to the seat with her hands. Bakura crossed his arms in exasperation, wishing Karim had not left so early- Ariam might have listened to him. "I haven't seen you in so long!"

"Ariam, trust me, there is nothing I would like better than acquainting you with my chambers," he drawled lazily, smirking slightly as he disengaged her fingers and puller her up into his chest. "But you have an appearance to keep up, remember?"

"I know, I know," she groused, returning the embrace briefly as Akmir entered the room silently. "Will I see you soon?"

"I think it's very likely," Bakura answered smoothly, kissing her forehead. "Now go, you'll be missed if you wait much longer. Akmir, I expect you to treat my lady better than you did on the way here," he instructed, a light tone of a threat dancing at the edges of his words. Akmir nodded curtly, casting a disparaging glance at Ariam. Seemingly satisfied, Bakura turned back to Ariam, pressing a light kiss to her lips. "Travel safe, love."

"Hathor protect you, my lord," Ariam replied, more out of habit than piety. Bakura winced lightly at the goddess' name, but let it go.

"Hurry up, my lady," Akmir growled, fairly pushing her down the dark corridor. Smirking slightly, Ariam turned to the man imperiously, deciding to try out her new authority.

"I do not appreciate being pushed around," she informed him loftily, pulling herself up to her full height, which was still a good few inches shorter than he was. Nevertheless, he backed away slightly and allowed her to walk at her own speed, even helping her onto the horse. "I should like your cloak as well, the desert winds are not pleasant at night." The pale-haired man looked mutinous, but unwillingly removed his cloak and threw it at the girl. Snickering softly to herself, Ariam decided not to push her luck further, and sat silently on the ride back.

"My lord instructs you tell no-one of what occurred tonight, nor who you saw," Akmir told her shortly as the horse's hooves clattered softly on the paving stones of the temple courtyard. Sliding off the horse, Ariam unwrapped the cloak and passed it back to him.

"Tell my lord I am not stupid," she replied. "And that I do not expect to wait as long as I have until our next meeting." Nodding a final time, Akmir spurred the horse away, leaving Ariam alone in the twilighty courtyard.