Hey guys! It's been a long time. I haven't been part of the actively-writing-fanfiction world for a few years now, and I desperately miss writing. In the interest of throwing people off, I figured I'd start this account off with some surprise het!

So here's the deal! I made a list of all the pairings in YGO, according to the Wikific page, generated a random number, and came up with a pairing, then used Adam Maxwell's Fiction Lounge's writing prompt generator to give me my prompt. And here we are!

I've never really written Kisara before, and I don't write Mahaad much.

This is a one-shot and probably won't get a sequel.

Pairing: Tributeshipping (Priest Mahaad x Kisara)

Prompt: "I didn't understand what she was talking about and I didn't care."

Word Count: 703

She'd always been afraid of the dark.

A distant memory chided her for it, but the white-haired girl couldn't place a name or a face to that memory, even if she'd wanted to. Kisara couldn't bear to think too hard on that, or on how cold she felt, waking or sleeping (was she really doing either?) but there was little else to think of.

The nightmares were there whether her eyes were open or closed-tricks in the dark that she couldn't escape, that might've been real, and might not have been, and she didn't know if she was walking or falling no matter what direction she tried to turn in.

She didn't think she could live that way.

Her heart raced, and a familiar silhouette came to mind-not that she could really see, not here, not in the cold, not wherever the dead walked when they couldn't reach the Afterlife. If she could just reach him, if she could see him again, everything would be fine-

She screamed when nothing was there, sobbed raggedly when her hope betrayed her again, because nothing ever was there with her. Just loneliness; just darkness. Just empty space, with no light but hers, and no one to hear, and no Set at all, and…

…And for the first time, someone answered.

It had been so long since she'd seen color that she almost couldn't place it, but the inky darkness pulled back to reveal purple armor that Kisara didn't think she'd ever seen before-and suddenly, a man was there, reaching for her arms, asking something about who she was, and how she'd come here, and it was everything she could do not to faint.

It took time, and Kisara didn't know much more about that now than she had in life, wandering the desert. But working out the 'whos' and 'hows' and 'whys' took what felt like days, even if time didn't pass here. She had some answers, at least, but didn't have many she could offer the magician-priest.

They had Set in common, though. That was enough for her. And others, people who'd known Set, but weren't here now.

"…I didn't understand what she was talking about," Mahaad said, at length, and the hand that wasn't rubbing comforting circles in the small of Kisara's back was gripping his staff tightly. She didn't know how much effort it took to change their surroundings, even if all he ever really cast was a tiny oasis in the dark, but neither wanted to go without it. Not now. There should have been pain in his voice, and Kisara wondered why she couldn't hear it when it was written all over his face. He went on, and she let him, just to hear more about the girl that the darkness couldn't take from him. "And I didn't care. It just… it was a silly nightmare. I never thought I would be living it."

Kisara nodded absently. It must have been harder on Mahaad, she realized, in part because he'd had more to live for-for the Pharaoh, for the other priests, for the priestess he sometimes spoke fondly of, and for his apprentice. "…We aren't alone now, at least…" she whispered, eyes downcast. "I-I mean, it's… not much consolation, but… at least…"

To her surprise, his hand stilled, and as relaxed as she'd been, leaning against his shoulder, she suddenly tensed. That hadn't been the right thing to say, she realized, and she suddenly felt the urge to run, even though her legs wouldn't move. But his hand was moving, and she was certain that she'd broken this, whatever 'this' was, and she wouldn't have their oasis-

And the mage's big hand settled at the back of her head, and drew her forward; Kisara let him, and was startled when she felt his lips press against her forehead.

She froze, waiting for something, arms raised defensively, and forgot to breathe. Not that she needed to. Not that he needed to.

But she still exhaled when he drew back, and she surprised herself by trying to meet his gaze-and was even more surprised to see that he was smiling.

"You're quite right," Mahaad whispered, "It's not such a nightmare with you here."