Notes: Written for the livejournal community 10 whores as Kisara/Rishid, but it can be read as gen.
I refer to the first duel between Kaiba and Yami as shown in the manga, where Kaiba plays the BEWD he stole from Yuugi's grandfather, and it turns against him. Everything else works with the anime-canon.

I disclaim.

Respite from Hades

None of it would have happened if they hadn't met the thief before they embarked in Egypt. He was dangerous, and Rishid would have wished to be with his brother when he met him, but Malik never listened to him anymore these days, all affection buried beneath his quest for revenge. It was harder to follow than any other order, this command to leave him out of his sight, to let him face dangers alone: it was exactly what he should not be doing... But Malik was not only – if at all – his brother, he was the heir of the tomb keepers he had to obey; and he was working on a way to free them all.

So, against his better judgement, he had not watched the thief's every move, not when Malik's orders explicitly forbad it. Other than that... He owed Isis as well, and she would want him to protect her brother.

It would have been easy for him to find out what the two of them were plotting, but Malik had told him to leave them, and so he did: he had only two other men to help, taking care of the boat, and of Malik's and their strange guest's needs as well. And it was only natural that once the girl appeared, he was the one to take care of her as well.

The thief – Bakura, he called himself – unceremoniously dumped her on the bed in his cabin: he looked angry. Malik was standing by the door, watching, looking amused by the other one's discomfort, but Rishid knew his brother well enough to tell that beneath the air of smugness, he was annoyed and disappointed as well, and whatever it was they had tried to achieve, it had not worked out yet.

"Make sure she doesn't run," Malik told him, once Bakura had left the cabin without a word.

Where to? Rishid had wondered at the time. But two days later, he found that he had done well to heed his master's warning.

They had brought her at night: Rishid had draped her in a blanked and sat by her side, occasionally running water over her pale lips. One day and a half later, in the early afternoon, when the sun made the sea shine in thousand shades of blue, she awoke with a start.

She was standing before he even had time to realise what was happened: bright blue eyes stared straight ahead, with a hint of madness, and in quick movements, without a hesitation, she went for the door and fled, naked as she was. She was halfway to the ship's border and not slowing when he caught her.

"Let me go!" she said, holding a hand out to the sea as if this would help her reach it.

He dragged her back to the cabin without difficultly, and closed the door behind them.

"Let me go," she repeated, and this time she was looking at him, truly speaking to him, urgently; she was talking in the ancient tongue, he only now realised.

"No," he said. "And there is nowhere to go but the sea. You'd drown."

"It doesn't matter," she said, but the frightened look in her eyes betrayed the lie. "If I die..." She looked up at him, intensely, so he felt self-conscious all the sudden, as if he was the one naked before her. "Who are you?" she finally asked. "How did you..." She made a vague gesture.

Rishid would have liked to know that himself. They'd made her appear, out of thin air for all he knew, she hadn't been on board when they left. Something his master and the thief had done had brought her here, maybe from the land of the death she seemed so eager to reach again.

"My name is Rishid," he answered her. "I will not harm you, but if you try to leave this cabin, or to harm yourself, I will stop you."

She stared at him for another moment, then went to sit on the bed, and half-heatedly draped a blanked around her waist; ironically, this suddenly made Rishid more aware of her nakedness, and he briskly turned away when he caught himself taking in every detail of her exposed body.

"Why?" the girl asked from behind him.

It took him a moment to remember what she was talking about, and then he quietly shook his head.

"I do not know," he admitted, calmly, though old sadness welled up in him at the reminder of Malik's refusal to confide in him (but he trusted him to obey without the knowledge, and this was a distinction as well, bitter as it tasted). "My mas – "

As if on cue, there was an impatient rap at the door, which Rishid immediately recognised to be coming from Malik. Hastily, he opened the door.

"Awake," Malik declared, carelessly brushing past him and inside, glancing at the girl before turning back to the door. "What now?"

The girl had remained completely motionless when Malik had entered, looking at him blankly, and Rishid prepared himself for another escape (suicide!) attempt, as he got the feeling she was eying the now open door and calculating her chances. But when the thief entered behind Malik, her eyes suddenly got wide and frightful; he hands clenched around the blanked and raised it slightly, as if it was a shield. His lips formed a silent "no!"

Malik whirled round, bewildered, but Bakura didn't pay attention to him: he fixed the girl with an intense stare, and slowly walked closer to the bed; the girl was trembling now.

"What is your name?" the thief demanded, in the ancient tongue.

"Kisara," the girl said tonelessly, a repressed quiver in her voice.

"Bakura," Malik snapped impatiently, "what are you doing?"

The thief half turned back to them nonchalantly.

"She remembers something. I want to know what."

Malik frowned, and closed his hand on the shaft of the millennium rod. Rishid did not know how and why this girl was here, but could have guessed that asking her questions was not what Malik had planned: he had offered this thief knowledge of their clan's secrets in exchange for his cooperation, and he did not like the notion of him getting any of it elsewhere.

"This was about the dragon. Nothing else," he snarled.

"We weren't expecting – " the thief gestured to the girl, who was still sitting, frozen. " – this."

"So fix it," Malik answered. "Or I'll just throw you off this ship!"

Rishid didn't move, but he prepared: if the ring's magic activated now, if Malik was too slow to counter, then he had to do something, though he knew that if the thief was careful, physical force could accomplish nothing, no matter how fast he was.

Bakura and Malik stared at each other for a moment, neither of them attacking.

"Fine," Bakura eventually said, rolled his eyes, and carelessly walked back to the door. Malik smirked to himself, before following.

Rishid closed the door behind them.

"He should be dead," Kisara murmured behind him, slowly lowering her hands again.

Rishid stayed silent, trying to decipher what the retreating voices outside were saying, but Malik hadn't told him to follow.

"He is," he answered slowly, looking at her: these weren't his master's secrets he was giving away after all. "He is possessing another one's body."

"Please let me go," she said. "Please let me die at least!"

There were tears shining in her eyes. Rishid was silent.

He hardly dared take his eyes off her after that, and so he saw his master and the thief even less than before. It made him anxious, not knowing what was happening, and at times he felt as much a prisoner as she was. Maybe they were communicating their fear to each other, for during the next days, they spent hours only staring at each other, and despite her apparent calm, he could feel the panic behind – unless it was all projection.

Still, shared captivity created an odd sort of intimacy: they got used to each other's physical presence, their way of moving, their particularities. She'd been given clothes too large for her, and had draped herself in them indifferently. She ate very little, and was immobile in a strange alert way, sitting on the bed most of the time, while he stood by its foot and watched her.

"He, the dead one," Kisara told him the second day, when he had ignored all her silent pleads, "wants to destroy us all. Do you want this?"

He didn't doubt her, nor was he surprised. But there was nothing he could do, and he had to repress the urge to go outside, just to check on Malik; quietly, thinking of his brother, he answered:

"No."

"Then let me go," she asked. "Don't let them have my power..."

"I can't," he answered, and that was that.

"I won't use it against you," she argued, even though, or maybe because, she must have felt the finality of his statement: her voice was trembling. "It's not mine to use anymore – I gave it up to someone. He needs me. If he calls on me and I don't answer..." Her voice broke. "Please. I don't ask for myself."

"I don't refuse for myself either," he answered. "I promised as well."

He didn't look away when she studied his face with an intensity she had not shown until then. She was silent after that

She seemed calmer than before, thoughtful; and the atmosphere warmer, as if their mutual admission had smothered their roles of captor and prisoner, and put them on equal footing.

He didn't truly become aware of the danger of this until Malik and Bakura returned to them, and went to Kisara, who was lying on the bed, clenched together and sleeping, both of their millennium items activated, gleaming dangerously. He was so unused to any caring for anyone beside his family, anyone but Malik (there was Isis, of course, but she was their sister and she would understand, and if she had not followed them, it was only because she searched for another way to help Malik), that the jolt it gave him, the desire to help her caught him by surprise.

He didn't move. Instead, he watched, worried, as Bakura took something from his pocket, and held it up before her.

Something had to be happening, because she awoke with a pained moan: her eyes flew open, and she stared at the two men before her in fright, and seemed unable to move. For a moment, her panicked gaze caught his. He didn't look away.

"Well?" Malik hissed, impatient.

"I told you, it won't work properly."

"Then use it properly!" Malik snapped.

"No," Bakura hissed in answer; Rishid stepped forward when he turned round – for a moment he could see the golden orb he was holding in his hand, before it vanished in his pocket – ready to step between them, but Bakura made no move to attack, even though he looked angry and dangerous.

"Rishid could – " Malik began.

"No," Bakura cut him off, even more viciously.

Unphased by his outburst, Malik looked from him to Kisara, who was still looking strangely faint from what they had tried on her, in annoyance.

"You," he said, and it was unclear which one he was talking to, "are useless."

Bakura just snorted.

"Like you came up with any better ideas," he shot back, already halfway through the door; Malik followed, and once again, they disappeared without a glance back. Rishid followed to lock the door behind them, before he turned back to the girl.

Kisara had finally managed to sit up, and was staring at him with the same intensity she had already shown once. He was about to ask her if she needed anything, but she spoke before he could.

"Is he the one you gave promises to?" she asked.

Rishid knew she couldn't be talking about the spirit.

"Yes," he said. He made a few steps forward. "Do you need anything?"

She blinked.

"Yes," she said after a moment. "Food. And drink. Please." She paused, and he noticed she was shivering; he raised a hand to lay it on her shoulder for comfort, then relented, and turned to bring her what she had asked for. "I think," she went on blankly, "that they were trying to rip out my soul."

She glanced up at him. It wasn't really reproach in her gaze, but something close enough. He didn't know what to say.

"Seto – " she said, looking away, "the one I am bond to, he – trusts very few. He trusts me, however, more than anyone." She glanced at him briefly, to make sure he was listening. "Once, I betrayed him. The consequences were horrible: his being was shattered, and it took him a long time to put the pieces back together. And I hated it, because I love him and never wanted to betray his trust, but – I had no choice. What he had done before, and what he was becoming..." She fell silent. "He lost a duel, that day, because the dragon that is my soul didn't obey him. It was better, in the end." Another silence. "Please. You are not helping him."

"I..." He didn't know how to answer her. He knew this, deep inside, that Malik's plan would bring them sorrow, not the freedom from their servitude he had promised. But in truth, this wasn't what mattered anymore, even his acceptance as one of the tomb guardians mattered little – he had to stay near Malik at all cost, and keep the darkness within him in check. "I'm sorry, Kisara. But I can't do what you did. I won't betray him."

Kisara sighed and shook her head.

"Who is he to you?" she asked softly.

"My..." He hesitated. His master, his charge, the one who had stolen what he thought would be his place when he was born, his friend even...? "My brother," he said softly.

Kisara gave him a strange look, and said no more. She didn't ask for his help anymore after that.

The storm caught them by surprise, near the coast. It was the thief who noticed it first.

Rishid and Kisara were alone, sitting on her bed, united in their fright as the boat shook under them, and in their worry for the ones they couldn't reach: Malik had ordered Rishid to stay.

When the door flew open, it was to reveal Bakura, draped in bluish light that came from the golden ring that hung from his neck. He looked angry.

"Malik wants you to come up," he snarled. Rishid exchanged a worried glance with Kisara – was he to leave her there, disregard both Malik's previous order and what he wanted? "We're going to sink," Bakura added, annoyed. "The puppets he has for an equipage are useless!"

Kisara pressed her lips together and gave an imperceptible nod. Rishid rose stiffly, but Bakura was already ignoring him, walking over to Kisara, blue glow still surrounding him.

Outside, he had to fight against the harsh wind that was threatening to throw him over board, had to keep his balance on the slippery wet surface of the deck. The boat had been unfit for this expedition in the first place, but Malik hadn't cared: he'd liked it, and seemed convinced he was meant to reach Japan safely like he'd had one of Isis' visions.

But when he found him in the control-room, his brother looked helpless and frightened. He was clutching the millennium rod in his hands, and he too was surrounded by its glow, though it was far from being as strong as Bakura's. Beside him stood two men with empty looks on their faces.

"Master." Rishid was beside him in a few steps; Malik stared at him, face contorted in anger. "You need to weaken control over them, or they can't think and work," he added, motioning the men with his head; Malik gave him a frighteningly blank look, before relenting: the glow dimmed, and life returned in the two men. Rishid breathed out in relief. The loss of control must have pushed his brother to increase it where it was possible, but it was no good idea to enslave the people who might know how to safe their boat to the point where they were nothing but empty shells.

But it tuned out to be too late. There was a loud creak, and then water flooded over them. Rishid grabbed Malik by the arm, and together they went to the door, before the room could drag them under with it; they didn't slow down even as they heard a desperate cry behind them.

And then, he was surrounded on all sides by wild sea-water; Malik pulled free of his grip, and he desperately tried, even as he fought to breathe and keep his head over the water that moved violently under, around and above him, not to lose sight of his brother's silhouette next to him. In vain. We're going to die here, he thought, hopelessly, and he couldn't even reach Malik and help him: all he could do was gasp for air.

The sudden light almost blinded him, and then the sky was strikingly, painfully white above them, and over them, a majestic white dragon flared its wings, roared, and kept the storm at bay: Rishid had not idea if it truly had that power, if time ticked away more slowly, or if it was all illusion and he was drowning without knowing it. Whatever it was, he couldn't help welcoming and fearing it: he had seen Malik summon the gods, and this creature was their equal.

"Kisara..." he murmured.

She must have died: she had said that her power would be released when she did.

Beside him, Malik spit out water: he looked angry and tired, and his hand was red from being closed so tightly on the millennium rod the whole time; next to them, one of them men from the control room stared up at the sky with wide eyes; the thief was swimming over to them.

"She must have drowned," he spat: out of all of them, he looked the least worried, maybe because he was already dead. He motioned Malik. "Try to control her with – "

"No – " Rishid interrupted fearfully, when the dragon looked down upon them, as if it had heard the thief's suggestion – she had been capable of turning against the one she loved: looking at the dragon's inhuman blue eyes, in which he saw nothing of Kisara, he doubted they could expect any mercy from it.

They all ducked when it dove; water splashed around them, and before Rishid realised it, he was heaved up with it. He barely had time to close his arms around the reptile's neck to avoid being thrown off again, and then they raised up, up, in the unreal white sky, where an invisible sun dried his wet clothes within instants. Beneath them, Malik and the others were small dots in the water: like through a veil, yet close by, as if to mock them, Rishid could see the coast.

"No," he murmured – screamed? He wasn't sure – when the dragon – Kisara, because here he felt oddly united with her again – ceased rising, and turned, in a long curve, into that direction. "Malik!"

The last part he had screamed, yet he could hardly believe it when the dragon slowed down, then changed direction for him, and flew back down toward the water: Malik was staring up at them the way he had stared up at the well that was the entrance to their home, with innocent desire; beside him, the white haired boy, who looked like the thief but had an entirely unfamiliar look on his face, tried to move as little as possible.

Kisara dove beneath the water with him (he held tighter onto her neck, pressed his legs against her as water rushed past) and picked them up. Rishid only looked behind himself to see that Malik was with him, then buried his face against her neck again, as they left the storm behind them, and gently flew towards land. When Kisara laid them down on the coast and faded away into the sky, he had already lost consciousness.

end

AN: Is it canon that they travel all the way from Egypt in that small boat of theirs? Well, if not I made it up.

I assume she saved the nameless OC too, but I found no good way to mention him... so feel free to think otherwise... XD

Comments are appreciated!