Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or any of the characters from the anime. I do own Yami's name, perhaps a few OCs, the plot, and the Wellingshire Manor.
A/N: Hey everybody, surprise new fanfic coming right up! lol This is going to be a bit out of my normal range of expertise. This story takes place somewhere between 1420 -1559, haven't decided yet HOWEVER, this means I will be trying to keep with the proper speech and things of that sort.
WARNING! This is a Fem!Yami Prideshipping story, and so if you do not like, don't read. I wanted to write this story because Yami as a woman would create a more interesting outcome, since Seto despises women, and for good reason. Yami will have a different name, since I like to give my characters some mixed names and settings and such. Anyway, that's it for now. Read, enjoy, and review!
Prologue
The torrential thunderstorm that pierced the bitter cold night was not enough to drown out the continuous screaming of a woman caught in the throes of excruciating agony. Those screams soon faded, however, being replaced by the small, high-pitched mewling cries of a newborn child.
Kisara Henderson lay against a pile of pillows that helped her to lounge as comfortably as possible upon her bed, looking exhausted and sweat-soaked, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep but would not allow herself that luxury as she watched the Elder midwife, Cecelia cut the umbilical cord and wash the blood from the body of her newborn babe.
"You have a son, Lady Henderson." Cecelia announced happily as she wrapped the babe, snug in a warm blanket and carefully placed the boy into his mother's arms.
Kisara gazed down into the slumbering face of her child, an adoring smile was plastered hopelessly across her lips. Oh, he was perfect!
"I shall go fetch your husband." Cecelia said before quitting the room.
A moment later, a tall, lean man came hurrying into the bedchamber. He was soaked to the bone from having ridden through the storm in order to arrive on time for the birthing of their first child.
"Come Seth, meet your son." Kisara entreated, and Seth needn't be told twice.
He carefully lowered himself down onto the edge of the bed and stared at the sight before him.
His young wife appeared so frail and delicate, her extreme white-blonde hair laid out beneath her, her bangs clinging to her face from the sweat on her brow, her already pale porcelain skin seemed a shade paler; she had never been more beautiful. Her face lit up from the afterglow of birth, her lovely bright oceanic blue eyes shining with unadulterated joy. In her arms lay their small child.
He had his mother's porcelain skin tone, although it would most likely grow darker as he aged, and the tuft of springy chestnut curls upon the babe's head was an exact match to his father's. As they watched, their son began to open his eyes, to show a pair of brilliant cerulean eyes; darker than his mother's but a little lighter than his father's navy blue eyes.
"What should we call him?" Seth inquired, never once taking his eyes off of his son.
"Seto." Kisara replied without hesitation.
Seth lifted his eyes up to meet his wife's and a wide smile broke out across his face. He reached out and cupped the boy's head in his hand in a gentle caress that seemed to sooth the boy. Wrapped in his mother's arms, his head cradled in his father's palm, there could never have been a more protected child ever born.
On a separate stormy night, a little over a year later, Kisara hunched her shoulders against the brutal winds as well as to shelter the small boy wrapped tightly in her arms as she made her way up the main street of London. She was cold, wet, and tired, only sheer desperation kept her going.
"Please stop moving so much, Master Mokuba." A damp, disheveled young woman in a servant's garb pleaded fruitlessly with the squirming toddler in the bathtub. Mokuba giggled happily at his handler's obvious distress before he splashed water directly into the woman's face.
"Mokuba, settle."
Miraculously, the small boy began to calm down long enough for the maid to finish his bath. The maid wrapped the toddler in a towel and pulled him out of the tub before turning to offer an appreciative smile toward the tall, young nobleman standing in the doorway to the kitchen, "Thank you, My Lord."
Baron Raphael Wellingshire smiled lightly at the maid, "I apologize for the trouble."
"Da!" Mokuba cried, holding out his arms for his father to hold him. Raphael reached for him, but before he could take her, Mahado, Wellingshire Manor's butler, appeared in the doorway, "My Lord. My Lady Henderson is waiting in the informal sitting room." He announced.
"Kisara?" Raphael took Mokuba from the young maid before he followed Mahado back toward the entrance hall of the mansion.
Kisara sat on the chaise lounge in the sitting room, rocking the small toddler in her arms to try and calm him, "Hush sweet, hush. I'll get you something to eat soon, Seto."
"Kisara." Raphael said in obvious delight to see his little sister again, and then he saw the devastation written into her delicate features, "What's happened?" He demanded.
"Seth…he was killed." Kisara replied, her voice nearly inaudible.
Raphael felt saddened by this news. He had grown up with Seth, they had been close friends even before Seth married Raphael's sister. However, Seth was a soldier, and Raphael was certain something like this would happen one day.
"I am so sorry." He offered.
"Thank you." Kisara closed her eyes to ward off the tears that began to collect behind her eyes, "I have a request. Would it be too much trouble for us to stay here?"
"Of course not. You may stay for as long as you need." Raphael replied immediately.
"Thank you."
Again she turned her attention to her son. Seto began to cry out for nourishment. It had been almost seven hours since last Kisara fed him. It seemed that the stress of losing her love had caused her milk to go dry.
"Come. I will have Isis prepare your suite, but in the meantime I'll have Serenity make a bottle for your son."
Seto and Mokuba lay on their stomachs as they doodled on pieces of blank, white parchment. Neither seemed to know what they were drawing, and neither seemed to care. They laughed as they showed each other their masterpieces, giggling and ooh-ing and ahh-ing at what the other made.
"I am going to go show mama." Seto announced as he bounded to his feet and ran from their nursery down the long, winding corridor until he reached the door that would admit him into the bedchamber that he and Kisara shared.
His joyful spirit came to an abrupt halt as he saw his mother lying across the bed with his Uncle Raphael, Aunt Vivian, Mahado, Serenity, Isis, and two strange men whom Seto had never met before.
They were speaking in low, solemn voices, the atmosphere in the room completely drowned out all sources of light in Seto's heart.
Pushing his way through the crowd, he scrambled up onto the bed and laid a small hand against Kisara's cheek to feel that she was cold and her face was slick with sweat.
"Mama?" He called silently.
His mother groaned softly before opening her eyes to gaze up at her beautiful boy. He was the spitting image of his father. Her only solace in this was that she would soon see her love again. She feared leaving her boy alone in this cruel world, but she trusted Raphael and Mahado and Isis to watch over him for her.
Tears pricked at the edges of Seto's cerulean eyes as he seemed to somehow understand what was happening. With a slight whimper, he brought his picture up for Kisara to see, "Look what I drew, mama." He said, his voice low.
"Ah, such a lovely drawing, my sweet. So talented." Kisara praised as best she could.
Seto caught a bit of what the strange men were saying to his uncle, and he swung his head around, "Mama, what are these people talking about?" He half demanded.
Kisara's eyes welled with tears, "I have to leave, sweetling."
"Where are you going that I can't go there with you?" Seto wanted to know.
"Oh, my sweet angel." Her tears began to spill down her face, "I love you so much."
"I love you too, mama." Seto replied instinctively.
"Seto." The boy turned to Isis, "Come with me." She implored.
"No, I want to stay with mama." Seto responded stubbornly.
"Sweet, go with Isis." Kisara said, "I cannot stay much longer."
"But you gotta stay." Seto protested.
Every one of the adults' hearts broke from hearing that heartbreaking statement.
"I cannot."
"Mama!" Seto cried out frustrated, but Isis grabbed him about the waist and began to try and carry him out of the room. "Mama!"
Seto struggled with all his might, but at four years old, the boy was easily overpowered by his handler. Neither Kisara nor Isis, and most likely not Raphael, wanted for Seto to see his mother die.
Seto was beyond angry as he sat sullenly against the wall outside his and Kisara's suite, locked out of the room after Isis left him outside. He did not understand, where was his mama going? And who were those strange men? Were they taking his mama away from him? Seto refused to let that happen.
The boy was startled by an abrupt cry that sounded like Isis, and Seto lunged to his feet as he heard the door being unlocked from the inside. The room slowly emptied, with Isis the first to exit, her eyes swimming and tears coursing down her face. She grabbed Seto before he could get inside the room, "Where is my mama?" He demanded.
"Seto, your mother is gone." His Uncle Raphael said as his deep blue eyes glistened with unshed tears.
"But she cannot be gone. She never came out of that room." Seto protested.
"Your mother is with your father now." Isis tried to reason with the distraught little boy.
Seto's face slackened and his eyes widened as he finally understood what had happened.
"No…" He murmured, nearly inaudible, then he said louder, "No!"
Isis enveloped Seto in a tight embrace as the boy began to sob in earnest against her shoulder, muttering under his breath, "Mama…mama, come back."
"Oh sweetheart." Isis murmured, tucking the boy's head beneath her chin as she gazed up toward the heavens, praying to God that something, anything could ease this young boy's pain.