Author's Notes: This is my first fanfic in a long time, but considering how I can't find any Yuugiou RPers anymore...this was the result. I hope you guys enjoy it! This will probably become slightly AU, and I'm not sure yet about the smut factor ~ I'll keep you posted. For the record, though, I'm gonna say that in this world Kisara was killed trying to protect Seto's village since I want him to come equipped with the Blue Eyes summoning abilities...and uhh...I'm not going to do my research so I hope my mental picture of Ancient Egypt is not radically far from the truth! ...I did take a world religions class, that should help -- right??? ;;

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuugiou in any way, shape or form. This is a non-profit story brought to you sheerly by my imagination and Kazuki Takahashi's characters/plotline.

Atem sighed. Between the servants bowing to his every whim and the constant questions as to whether he needed anything or not, he found that he was going crazy. Royalty had been all that he had known in life, but sometimes he wished that more people would relate to him on a human level. As it stood, even Mahado took on the role of the respectable priest -- doubling as an advisor in his time of need. There was always Mana, but while her childish antics and absent-mindedness in calling him 'prince' were refreshing, she wasn't really the type he sought either. He felt alone in the world which was a funny thought given how many people surrounded him in his life. No one would ever begin to understand it -- and it would be selfish of him to ever expect them to, so it would be a secret he carried to the grave.

The pharaoh made his way up the stone steps, pushing open the double doors and stepping out onto the balcony. Night enveloped the land, stars glimmering in the clear, evening sky and bringing with it a bitter chill that felt good against his skin. Goosebumps rose to flesh, and Atem closed his eyes for a moment. He imagined what life would be like without the weight of the country resting on his shoulders. For a moment, he imagined being able to do what he wanted freely and not having an attendant at his side -- he thought of the leisure and the unrestrained lifestyle. But those thoughts shattered as an inner voice reminded him that if he wasn't there to do this, then who would be? Who would carry on Akunamukanon's good name? Thick lashes lifted, violet-tinged eyes focusing on the distant landscape. Atem absently heard the approach of footsteps behind him, but he didn't bother to turn. The stranger would speak soon enough, and with as heavily guarded as the palace was -- it wasn't as though it was someone who was a threat. The figure sidled up beside him, standing completely erect and with a certain pride that was unmistakable. Atem managed a side-glance which only confirmed his suspicions.

"Seto..."

"Excuse my intrusion, honorable pharaoh," the priest gave a gracious bow.

Atem didn't bother to right himself, looking toward the distance again, "It isn't an intrusion. I take it that you are finalizing your preparations?"

"Yes. Everything has been completed. Not that I question your decision as the pharaoh, but I have to wonder why I was chosen to take this voyage to help the Arabian prince awaken his KA..."

"You have to question your own abilities?" Atem countered in slight amusement -- although he knew exactly what Seto had meant, he couldn't help but tease him. Clearing his throat, the pharaoh finally pushed himself upright. "It is because you have mastered your abilities from a young age and risen in the ranks to become one of my strongest priests. Since Prince Katsu is around our age, I believe he might learn best from someone he can possibly relate to."

Seto gritted his teeth, blue eyes snapping toward the distance as he appeared to restrain some form of remark. Really, Atem wished he would have said it, but instead he nodded graciously, "I hope it won't take too long. Being away from my pharaoh's side leaves me without a sense of duty."

"Seto, this is your sense of duty. Should something come to pass, you will be notified immediately through Isis's KA -- Spiria. However, I do not anticipate anything befalling me in your absence."

"I apologize then if it seems as though I'm complaining."

Atem offered a weak smile, and subtly attempted to prod, "Well how can one hardly blame you when as rumor has it that Katsu is nothing but a spoiled and lazy prince who could potentially have the great ability of a warrior yet does not seem to have the motivation?"

"T-that isn't..." he fell silent for a moment and then hung his head in defeat.

"While it may seem worthless to you, I feel as though this can become a powerful alliance. I wish to bring peace to this land, Seto, which means uniting all our sister nations. Please try to endure...after all, rumors are simply rumors and nothing more."

"I understand, pharaoh."

"Is there anything else you would like to ask?"

"No, that is all. I will take my leave," Seto bowed at the waist and with a flourish of blue robes, he retreated through the same doors he came.

Atem glanced after him for a moment before returning to his thoughts. He sighed, idly toying with the chain which supported the weight of the upside-down, gold pyramid around his neck. The weight was nearly unbearable, but he had to bear it. And he would be lying if he said he didn't wish Seto had stayed by his side to converse for a bit longer. Formalities aside, he was the one priest that Atem felt he could relate to.

***

Morning splashed the land with its brilliant golds and oranges, and life in Egypt began once more. The marketplace bustled to the brim with people, many going from stand to stand like a slow-moving herd. One flaxen-haired fifteen year old had a basket of food in his gold-clad arms, and he stopped before a single booth eyeing the pile of fruit tentatively as though the best tasting apples would make themselves apparent. A few were plucked up and added to the pile before he reached in his pocket and offered the vender a few coins for this exchange. The crowd reached out and consumed him once again, and he blended right in with the group in spite of his odd, lavender eyes and beautifully slender frame.

Malik Ishtar -- younger brother of Priestess Isis -- earned his keep as the palace errand boy. It wasn't necessarily a job he enjoyed, but it did get him out of the place. He felt claustrophobic at times, and often bored -- what with his sister being pulled away for obligations while he sat by himself. The priests were a stuffy bunch, and the servants all had this air of superiority. And the funniest part of all was that the pharaoh was around his age, yet he felt worlds apart from him -- never able to really approach him. Hell, he doubted he even knew he existed, and yet he got to appreciate all the food he collected in the marketplace on a daily basis. Talk about living a spoiled life. Malik huffed a bit, closing his eyes in irritation.

A shrill cry rose up above the chattering, clearly stating that there was a thief amongst them. A few citizens stopped in their tracks, turning to get a better look while others questioned what was going on. There were even some that carried about their business like normal because thievery was such a commonplace occurrence that it seemed like no big deal. Malik, however, really hadn't thought anything until a rough impact sent him flying. The basket tumbled out of his hands, and he mewled when all the carefully picked and paid for fruits and vegetables hit the dirt. Despite the pain and bruises that throbbed their presence known, Malik was more angry than anything. His eyes narrowed, and he snapped his attention at the one responsible.

Standing before him was a bronze figure draped in a deep red robe -- thick and rich like blood. His silver hair gleamed like the moon, and when he snapped cruel, grey eyes down at him, Malik found that his focus lingered on the scar that trailed its track mark pattern beneath his right eyelid. The thief made a sound of disapproval before springing into motion again, light and lithe on his feet like a panther. Malik blinked once or twice before remembering what had happened and quickly furrowing his brows. He pushed up to his feet and tore through the crowd that had surrounded him, abandoning the food and putting his sheer focus on chasing down this man. His sister always said he was irrational, and such words could have never been more true. He had no real plan of what he would do when he caught up to the stranger, nor did he stop to consider the danger of it all.

Malik quickly rounded the corner of a building, skidding to a halt when he saw the thief hunched, eyeing the gold jewelry he had claimed for his prize. He tried to find his voice, but discovered he was breathing too heavy for the words to come out immediately. This allowed the young man to cock his head in Malik's direction, shoving the items into the inner pockets of his robe before stepping forward. At first, Malik took a step back, but he quickly regained confidence and stood his ground.

"Bastard! What the hell were you doing?! You realize that you made me lose all the food I'd paid for?!"

The thief snickered, "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I supposed to care?"

It was probably the nonchalance that angered Malik the most. He clenched his fist at his side and raised it. Without even thinking his arm propelled into motion and was easily stopped by the stranger who closed his fingers around it -- applying a bruising pressure. Malik winced, attempting to draw back but he was only dragged closer -- pulled right up so that the other could get uncomfortable close to inspect him.

"You're nothing more than a nuisance. You think I give a shit about guys like you who can afford a buncha shit and feed yourself well?"

"It was for the pharaoh!" Malik didn't even realize the error in his words until it was too late.

"The pharaoh...?" narrowing his eyes, the silver-haired one suddenly flung his catch to the side. "Then that makes you nothing more than a lapdog!"

He hit the wall with a wince, reaching upward to nurse his shoulder idly, "Someone'll have your head for this!"

A cackle built up in the thief's throat, rumbling low before branching off maniacally. It hadn't been the reaction that Malik anticipated, and he only stared in slight surprise. Teeth were flashed in a twisted grin before the wolfish bandit moved forward, planting his foot atop the golden-haired one's hand and looming in, "You tell your pharaoh that the thief king Bakura doesn't forget so easily. You tell him that if he's not careful where he puts his pawns then he won't have any left."

Malik sputtered something; he wasn't even sure what was about to come out of his mouth when calloused fingers reached out to ghost their way through his hair in mock affection. The cries of the guards saved him from suffering more humiliation as they suddenly made their way around the corner. Bakura smirked, taking a step back before he sprang himself up and out of harm's way. Malik couldn't even follow the thief's movements and before long, he had escaped -- two of the guards chasing him and leaving one to approach with an extended hand.

"Malik, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," shaken, but fine. He accepted the hand, rising to his feet unsteadily. His bruised fingers curled and flexed into themselves as though to assess the damage. "I lost the food because of him..." Malik reached downward, checking for his pouch to see just how much he could afford to replenish when he suddenly realized that was missing as well. "--and my money, too."

"Bakura has been quite a problem. None of us have been able to catch him. However, we don't wish to alarm the pharaoh over the matters of a petty thief."

Malik nodded idly, following along with the guidance and glancing back in the direction that Bakura had disappeared in. He still felt the ghost of a touch in his hair, and it made him shudder. For some reason, he didn't believe for a minute that this was just some petty thief.