In the name of the king Essay

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Atem, son of Ra, stood in the remnants of his palace. Pillars fallen and great stones cracked, a sad remainder of the seat of power. His head was bowed, his cape torn and dirty. Sand blew through the gaping holes, filling in crevices and tearing eyes. Outside Atem could hear the screams, the constant screams, as darkness surrounded them in a heavy weight. It was time. The Darkness was rising, the Thing the Thief Bakura called upon was approaching, and there was nothing Atem could do about it. Now. Firm steps crossed the short distance between them. Seto grabbed Atem's shoulders and turned him around, shaking him twice to emphasize Seto's bitten-off words. "Damnit Atem. You. Are. Not. Doing. This!" Seto bored his eyes into his king's, emotions flickering through his eyes, breaking past Seto's stiff control. Fear. Anger. Defiance. Seto's arms quivered slightly, and he couldn't stop them. He was losing it, emotions once tightly kept inside leaking outside where he knew Atem could see it. Damn him, he was always the more perceptive of the two of them with emotions, and now he was going to die— Atem raised his head, glaring at his closest friend. Purple eyes flashed red, tired and yet unbroken. Of course he was; he was the pharaoh, his spirit couldn't be broken because if he did, Egypt itself would break. But no, he was going to break himself… Pain, Seto saw in Atem's eyes; that much was clear. And perhaps…perhaps acceptance? Seto was never that good with interpreting emotions. Even if the two of them were close friends and loyal to death to each other. Atem's eyes told no lies to Seto. "Then what, Seto? Tell me! There is no other way." "There has to be!" Seto cried. His hands tightened against Atem's shoulders, almost painfully, as if he gripped hard enough Atem wouldn't leave; wouldn't do this… "There has to be!" A chunk of stone crashed

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