DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters (even though they are slightly hot, especially the members of the male cast, if you know what I mean) or Yu-Gi-Oh in general, all credit goes to Kazuki Takahashi. SPECIAL THANKS TO: My boyfriend Roland for helping me with this language and everyone who takes pleasure in reading this (and leaves my some feedback, I'm doing this for the first time)

PROLOGUE

The shadows danced a ballet of indiscernible beauty while young Ryou Bakura carefully paced down the stairs in his parents house with an old fashioned, brazen candle holder in his right hand. The nightly storm that was sweeping over his family's remote estate broke at the venerable windows, and every now and then, a flash of light lit the empty entrance hall when lightning struck the ocean. It were nights such as this that used to keep the seventeen year old white haired boy from finding the pleasant relieve of sleep, he longed for that desperately.

Usually, the wave's reflection that rippled over the walls of his chamber, his furniture and even the blankets that warmly covered his fragile body during night's lonely hours lulled him to his rest, allowing him to escape this edgy and imperfect reality, to find comfort into his pleasant dreams of beautiful landscapes, delightful animals and friendship. Yes, friends were what he was missing most of all since he and his father moved into the latter's family's ancestral seat in northern England. Friends and his mother, though he had been missing her for half his life by now. Ever since that fateful day a short time before his tenth birthday, people had tried to convince him that he was not the one responsible for his dear mothers and sister's sudden deaths. Or even that he had been blessed by godly protection.

Like it had not been his childish whining for childish things that had led to his mother's fatal lack of awareness…

After that incident, he had put everything childish behind him. His father was rather helpful in this too, yet in an unintentional fashion. He simply had ceased to be present, and without a caring person in his life, young Ryou had been forced to become independent at such a young age. Independence to him meant seriousness; therefore, he had not missed anything when his father forgot about his tenth birthday. What did parties and presents mean to someone who had already died on the inside anyway?

And now, he had left his mother's country of birth, Japan, in order to live with his father again, who by now had moved into the old manor, the Bakura family had build several centuries ago. Joining his father in England had been the last in a row of attempts of Ryou's to get restore his relationship with his last remaining parent, yet, alas, it had been no use. Ever since the young man had come into this cold and desolate manor, his father had almost consistently locked himself inside the old library. Therefore, Ryou had been on his own once again, with no one left to talk except for the small crew of servants his father kept and the countless faded and lifeless portrait's of his ancestors that hung all around the place.

However, as lifeless as those oil paintings appeared to be in the daytime, as vivid and intimidating was their presence when a single candleholder's unsettled light created an enchanting play of light and darkness on the men's and women's faces at night.

A sudden fit of uneasiness overcame Ryou at this point. Driven by instinct, he hoisted his light over his head, his gaze shifting through the empty entrance hall. No one else was there, of course; just him and his ancestors. Yet, the feeling remained. Maybe he should return to his chambers and try to find peace with a sleeping pill or two?

Just has he was about to turn and ascend over the flight of stairs back to his room, something touched him. It was not a physical contact; rather it made contact with his mind. It was not an unpleasant experience. Suddenly, the sounds of storm and rain faded to a subtle murmur, and Ryou felt as if a warm voice spoke to him. He could not make out any words or even be assured that it hadn't just been his overtired imagination that spoke to him, for the experience did not last any longer than a two or three seconds. Still, he somehow got a weird feeling, as if he would miss out on something if he would quit now.

He stood disoriented for a few seconds, for there were three doors leading out of the great hall. Then, he picked the one to his left, entering the east wing of the manor. Curiously, he wandered through the dark and empty halls, sometimes pausing in order to wait for this distinct sensation again, yet the phenomenon did not repeat it self. Still, he somehow knew which path he had to follow. After another turn to the right, he entered a spacious hall with a high ceiling. His memory of this part of the building was not that good, since he rarely ever came here. Despite the row of large windows that occupied the left wall, the room lay in impenetrable darkness. Ryou moved carefully, his bare feet making little sound on the soft carpet. What was he doing? He really should be in his bed right now, instead of chasing after an ephemeral hallucination…

Once again, the phenomenon occurred just the second, Ryou was about to leave again.

This time, it was by far more intense than it had been in the entrance hall. He breathed in hissingly and almost dropped the candle-holder. A pleasant warmth filled his entire being, a sensation he had missed dearly ever since the day his mother had left him for good.

And the voice spoke. "Ryou", it spoke, just a single word, yet with such intensity and reassuring strength that it left a stronger impression on him than anything he had heard in seven years. All the emotions, locked up for such a long time, responded to a single word, spoken by a bodiless voice and Ryou barely managed to contain himself. He did, though, somehow manage not to collapse on his knees and start crying; instead he lifted the candleholder higher into the air.

The sight that ensued almost took away his breath. While he had been in this hall before and briefly examined the paintings that covered the entire left wall, most of which showed gory sceneries of murder and revenge, things Ryou was not fond of at all, this specific painting had escaped his attention so far. While it was not the largest picture in this room, it was certainly haunting, especially to Ryou.

He stared at the painting paralysed. A young man, possibly a little older than Ryou, stared back. His brown eyes flashed with a challenging look and his mouth was twisted in a patronizing smile. The pale skin, along his white, rather messy hair contrasted his black waistcoat and cloak, while his right hand was resting on his long sword's pommel.

Ryou stood before the painting of a man that appeared to be his doppelganger. And while the inexplicable experience had ended once again, he knew that it had been this very portrait that was calling to him. Not moving his gaze from the man's cold eyes, Ryou shyly lifted his empty hand and slowly brought it into contact with the old canvas.

"Who are you", whispered Ryou soundlessly. The storm had ended by now.

AN: Okay, not that much plot in here, I know. This chapter was merely supposed to establish the mood. Thanks for reading!^^ What do you think? Shall I continue the story?

PS In the later chapters, I'm probably gonna introduce some of Ryou's friends from Japan. Right now, I consider Yugi and Anzu to pay him a visit, yet I'm open for your requests with regards to that matter!^^