WARNING!!! CONTAINS LEMON!!!

"My love?" The great Thief King Bakura whispered for his one true weakness. He lifted aside the tent's mouth. It was night time. He breathed in, and her sweet scent hit him. Her aroma was sweeter than the crushed fabrics and honeyed perfumes that graced the Pharaoh's Queen, Nefertiti's, chambers. "Layla?" As if like magic, her figure came into view . Moonlight flooded across her. The white dress she wore clung to her breasts and hips perfectly. He moved further into the tent, letting the tent mouth drop. They were alone. Layla lifted her hand to his face, and she smiled. Her hair was black and fell to her waist, her skin tan from the sun, but her eyes! Her eyes were as blue as the Nile river. "Bakura, it's been one month. I have missed you." She stroked his cheek with the back of her fingers. Bakura leaned into the touch. True, the Thief King was the most feared and ruthless in all of Egypt, but Layla gave him unconditional love. And he returned it. She was found six years ago at the age of ten, by Bakura when he was twelve. She was the child of a wealthy land owner, but she had been starved and tortured by the monster she had called a father. The group of thieves had ransacked the house looking for food and valuables, and Bakura searched away from his group. He heard a sniffling sound. Someone crying. Breaking down the door, what Bakura's eyes met was horrifying. Curled up in a corner, small, scared, and thin as a skeleton, he saw Layla. Her hair was matted, cuts and breaks to her skin marred her already stretched appearance, and she had nothing but a dirty sack as a dress. Her neck was shackled to the wall. "Please. Help me." She'd cried in desperation. Opening the shackle keeping her fixed to the wall with a key one if his followers found, Bakura stole her away with him and the band of thieves he had lived with for so long. Bakura grew up and took control of the group, and as Bakura left for longer stretches of time, their hearts had grown fonder. And she had waited for her Bakura for just over a month now. Moons had passed, tides had changed, but her eyes stayed trained to the same spot every day, waiting to see the dust rising and the sound of horses hooves to fill her ears. "And I you, my love." He leaned down and claimed her mouth in a kiss. She caressed her thumb over his cheek, to which Bakura flinched. She pulled away. "What is it?" She then saw the blood on her hand. "Bakura, you are bleeding. Why?" She rushed him to her bed, and sat him on the edge. In the faint flicker of the candle, she saw he was covered in wounds. None bleeding as much as the cut on his cheek. "I must clean your cuts." He let her. Never before had he let anyone touch him, but when Layla clung to him the first night they'd met, like her life depended on it, he knew he couldn't push her away. She could touch him. Anyway she wanted.
"My love, what happened? These wounds are recent." Layla questioned as she cleaned and bandaged the wounds on his body. Bakura grimaced.
"The Pharaoh's guards attacked us. They knew what we'd done. I killed many." He said gravely. Layla did not faultier. She finished her job without another word. "The cut on your cheek will leave a scar, I'm afraid." She shook her head. "If I didn't believe him already dead, I'd kill the man who did this to you." She kissed just above the cut on his cheek. She'd wrapped linen bandages around his left arm and chest, as he'd received a few nasty lacerations in those areas. As Layla moved to stand, Bakura grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her onto his lap. He brushed his nose against hers, and held her face close to his own. For the second time that night, he kissed her. All of the pent up passion and care he held for her was released through his lips onto hers. She responded , running her hands through his hair. Pulling away, Layla looked deep into her love's eyes. "Make me yours. I want you to take me, as a man takes his wife. I don't want to wait anymore. I love you." And she kissed him again. He wrapped his arms around her waist, deepening the kiss further. She leant into him, and they fell backwards onto the bed together. He laid her down on the soft blanket, tracing the shape of her with his hand. He made quick work of untying the belt that held the dress together. He ran his hand over her, squeezing her breast in one hand. She moaned into his shoulder. Pushing off his white shorts, she marvelled at the sight of him, naked. Every inch of him was perfect, even the scars marring his body gave him an edge of danger she loved. Wrapping her legs around him, she felt him push into her. She felt the pain of her lover pushing past her barrier. Letting out low growl, he started to slowly move. As the pain dwindled, Layla felt the pleasure start to build. She bucked her hips to meet Bakura's, holding her hands around his neck. Bakura dove deeper, faster into her, Layla moaning loader as he did. As his finish drew near, he kissed her deeply, which muffled both of their climaxes.
Panting for breath still, Layla lay her head on his chest, and he threw an arm around her shoulders. Their heartbeats raced, and their eyes drooped. "I love you, Layla." he smiled as his eyes closed completely.
"I love you, my King." Layla kissed his lips, and fell asleep.

Two months later

"Do you have to go away again?" Layla held her stomach. In the last few weeks, it had grown. And she had not bled for the last two months. She was with child, and Bakura was going away. She couldn't tell him now, not now he was leaving. He'd worry himself sick. "I'm sorry my love. I'm sorry. But after this, we can get married, and I'll never have to leave your side again." He reached towards her and kissed her. "I will miss you." She said, a tear sliding down her cheek. Bakura wiped away the tracks away. "You'll never cry for me again. I swear it. I love you." With that, he climbed on his horse, waved goodbye to his beautiful soon to be wife and signalled his horsemen. With that, they rode off. More tears streamed down her face as she watched the dust cloud getting further and further away, until it disappeared completely. Rubbing her stomach, she whispered. "Be safe."

That night, a man, heavy scars marring his tanned skin, slipped into Layla's tent. He saw her form, curled up in bed. She was sleeping soundly. Just like a child. He smiled as he slipped the knife from it's sheath. The man stood above her. Layla slowly opened her eyes, but before she could scream, the knife was plunged into her chest. She couldn't utter a word, she could only squeak. He pulled the knife out, and plunged it into her chest again, and again, and again. Her eyes closed, and she lost consciousness as the last threads of life snapped, one by one.

Bakura felt a pain in his chest. Bolting upright in bed, he felt a stabbing, wincing pain in his chest. Layla! Somehow, he just knew it was her. He awoke his head rider, informing him he had to leave, and to carry on without him. With that, he mounted his horse and thundered across the desert floor.

Bakura tore back the tent mouth, and he saw. Layla, his Layla, was in bed, the sheets drenched in blood. "No. No. Layla." He ran to her. She was cold, and she wasn't moving. She was gone. "NOOOO!" He screamed. One of Layla's hand maids, one of the younger girls they'd taken in, rushed in. "Bakura, I thought you..." She stopped as she caught sight of her mistress. "Mistress Layla!" Bakura held Layla's cold body to his chest, and for the first time in years, and last time ever, he let tears slide down his face. He knew who did this. "Pharaoh." He growled. "I will kill you."

Bakura laid Layla's wrapped body down infront of the Nile. There was no one around, not even the crocodiles that inhabited the river. He could not bury his love, for her body would become uncovered in the sands. So he decided to give her back to nature. The one person he loved was a blessing from the Gods, all blessings should become one with nature once more. With that, he picked her up, and waded into the Nile river. When he was waist deep, he placed her gently into the clear waters. He watched as she sunk gently out of sight. Walking away, he knew, in another life, they'd meet again. But to do so, he needed to make a few sacrifices.