Oh my god I almost didn't get this done. It could still use a lot more work, but I fell asleep while I was working on it last night, so this is the best I can do. Sorry for the delay!

This is entirely peopled with OCs and turned itself into a character piece about Malik's dad. I'm not entirely sure what to say here-uh. Itafé is kind of an in-joke with Meeps, because we called him that in an old RP, and everyone else's names were pretty arbitrary.

The Kontar family was picked because it's close to "Ishtar." And yeah, it's totally Shaadi's family.

I did some math and arbitrarily set this in the around 1940, mostly because I pegged Malik's dad as being in his early 50s when he died, and the series took place in the mid-90s.

Pairing: Malik's parents. No name given.

Prompt: Yugioh Fanfiction Contest Season 10, Round 7

Word Count: 1,220

Warnings: They're OCs and I ran out of time to do research?

Name Notes:

Itafé - "Father"

Buikhu - "The Best"

Auset - Another name for "Isis"

Kontar - "Only son"

Chuma - "Wealthy"

Life underground was all about order.

Itafé was unusual in that he was content with that; had been from a very young age, and even entering his early teens, he reveled in how easy the world was when things were meticulously organized. He took after his father-Buikhu, head of the Ishtal clan-in every respect that either of them counted, and was proud for it. The blonde-haired boy was rigid in his discipline and studies; read late into the night, and often opted out of chances to go up to the surface in favor of staying where he belonged. Where they all belonged.

Nothing good came from up there.

Not before her.

It wasn't often that Buikhu demanded his son join him on his trips, especially after he'd spent much of the past two months recovering from the family's ritual. His lessons had piled up after complications slowed his healing, and even his mother's insistence had been in favor of this excursion.

Long ago-Itafé had known, once, approximately how long, but it wasn't a lesson he'd dwelled long on-their family had split into smaller groups, sub-clans, and some had moved above ground to aid in ensuring that the core members of the clan were both safely hidden and well-supplied. The compound they lived in currently, Itafé knew, was only a few centuries old. Most of the others currently in use were much more recent.

The Kontar clan lived above ground and was the only branch of the family Itafé had met beyond his immediate blood relatives. As he understood it, without the added risk of protecting the prophecy, they were allowed to move almost freely in the modern world. The Millennium Eye and Scales were easy to protect. Not like the Rod and Torque-after all, who wanted to steal a magical artifact that only worked if it was imbedded in their skull?

But Buikhu had decided, and his mother had insisted, and the combination of both had earned Itafé a trip to the surface world to meet with his kin.

And that was where he had met Auset.

Itafé shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to another. The one and only thing he wasn't any good at was waiting, and his side of the family had arrived at the usual meeting place early. He kept his hands folded behind his back, just the way his father did, and blithely ignored the way it made his shoulders ache. If his father could stand this way, so could he.

"Cousin!" the head of the Kontar clan called, and Itafé recognized his voice immediately. It was hard not to; Chuma always sounded like he'd been running a little too fast, a little too far.

Buikhu didn't smile often, and neither did his son, but both pairs of lips curved upward at the same instant out of politeness. Buikhu reached for his distant cousin's hand and shook it heartily, and in turn, Itafé bowed stiffly. It was the right thing to do, he told himself, even though the entire Kontar clan should have been bowing to him. The Ishtals were more important. They deserved the respect.

"Forgive me, Cousin," Chuma said airily, "We ran into some trouble. That blasted war has the whole world clogged up like you wouldn't believe!"

"It's nothing," Buikhu said sharply. The curiosity Itafé often smothered wondered what war he meant, but he said nothing. "Did your niece come to her decision yet?"

Niece?

"She surely did," Chuma sounded thrilled. "It's a great honor, and I've compensated her parents already. We're glad for your choice!"

"Father?" Itafé asked carefully, frowning a little. "I've never met any nieces…?"

Buikhu glanced down at him and simply gestured beyond the Kontar clan's leader, toward the rest of his contingency-adults Itafé never bothered associating names and faces to, after only meeting them a handful of times-and it was only then that the fair-haired boy realized that there weren't just adults.

A girl not much younger than he was standing with the rest, clad in a more modern white dress than any he had ever seen his mother wear. He could identify the collar as having been buttoned, and there were gathers at the waist that Itafé suspected had been done with modern machinery, rather than stitched by hand. It looked weird, more than anything else. With hazel eyes and straight black hair, Itafé couldn't honestly say that he would've picked her out from any of the servant girls that already lived with their family. Even with the front of her hair braided on both sides, she looked plain, and he frowned.

"Oh."

That wasn't the right response, but it was a response, and he knew without looking that his father was expecting something more than silence. Itafé had a feeling he knew where this exchange was going, but he'd completely put marriage out of his mind after his tenth birthday. There were much more important things.

Buikhu nudged him forward with a hand at the base of his neck. "Go speak with her," he said, "Chuma and I have much to discuss."

Itafé didn't much want to obey, but he did. He always did.

He just didn't have anything to say.

The girl smiled with the flighty sort of unconcealed nervousness that Itafé suspected small animals would, if they smiled, when they met with predators. "I'm Auset," she said, and the way she bowed was one Itafé hadn't ever seen before. He'd never known anyone to lift their robe in greeting, or for any other non-practical reason, but she did it with the kind of practiced ease that it must have been normal above ground.

"My name is Itafé," he replied.

And the conversation died there.

Careful practice not to fidget was the only thing that kept Itafé standing still and tall, but Auset seemed fit to do the job for both of them, twisting her hands nervously.

Itafé couldn't dredge up a compliment for the girl, no matter how much he wished it would make the conversation easier. He wanted to-compliments made conversation simpler, if little else-but something stayed his tongue. There was nothing to compliment, he thought. Not her overly ambitious name, not her big ears, and certainly not the way she looked nothing like his mother.

"…Do you like playing tag?"

Itafé hadn't expected her to break the silence for him.

He shook his head. "I've never played," he said, and the younger girl frowned, at a loss for what to suggest next, after what appeared to be her only idea had belly flopped spectacularly.

"I can teach you," she offered hopefully, smiling that nervous prey smile again, and Itafé paused. The answer should have been no. It wasn't dignified, and his father, at least, was right there. But for want of things to talk about, something to do sounded infinitely better. He nodded slowly.

Auset smiled then-a real and true smile that reached her eyes-and Itafé was almost taken aback. That was attractive. That simple gesture that he couldn't return. He didn't understand-and in many ways, he didn't want to.

And then she reached for his hand, and he surprised himself by letting her take it. "Come on," she said, "There's more room over there. It'll be fun!"