Disturbances In The Emotional Force

They were disturbingly domestic.

Disturbing because they fit so well together.

When Otogi Ryuji, the self-proclaimed – but never otherwise contested or denied – Lord of the Dance, had arrived from the land of Eire on a scouting mission to acquire the head Palace Dancer, Anzu, for his troupe of players, the Pharaoh had, of course, granted him an audience.

He'd postponed it three times trying to get Seth to help him figured out how to let Anzu make her own decision, but to subtly manipulate circumstances in such a way so that she didn't leave the palace. She and his young look-alike had grown very close; Atemu was unsure if it was a sibling-like relationship or something more romantic, but he knew that Yugi was slowly starting to come out of his shell, and if she left, his personal messenger would be down in the dumps.

And that wouldn't be good.

Also, Otogi Ryuuji was annoying. He was loud, flamboyant, talked in a really odd drawling accent, made over-the-top sweeping gestures and talked with his hands. A lot.

Also, he tended to wear dresses. Not long kilts or loincloths, dresses. Add to that the make-up, his long and intricate hairstyle, his deadly accuracy with both words and knives, and the entire court was a bit…flummoxed by him.

Not as much as they might have been, had this been anything other than Pharaoh Atemu's court, however. He was the King of Games, but most people had already started referring to his reign as the Reign of Chaos.

Chaos which touched everyone who even set foot inside the palace for a single instant.

When Ryuji had finally met the self-styled, but not just self-titled King of Games, he had been outraged at what he had perceived as unsubtle procrastination on the monarch's part. He had quickly made his displeasure known, not bothering to give the Morning Star the respect Ryuuji felt he didn't deserve for being so boorish and rude.

Sparks had flown between the two as they shouted the palace down. Then fists had flown as well as words, followed quickly by the tow of them wrestling around on the pillows piled in front of the throne. Surprisingly, the wrestling had soon turned to…wrestling with intent.

Intent to get their clothes off and get as close as it was possible for two separate beings to be.

Needless to say, when Shizuka arrived to summon the two for dinner, she had been in for quite a shock. Not entirely a bad one, however; the arousing sight led to her pouncing her boyfriend Malik within a half-candlemark.

With Kisara and Ryou having gone to bed early – and yes, just to sleep; Kisara was very tired from her pregnancy – that just left four men, two couples, in the large, palatial dining room.

And since there were no visiting dignitaries, none of them had to stand on ceremony of eating any slower than the speed of a sand storm, devouring everything in its path.

Jou let out a loud belch. "What's keepin' Atemu?"

Honda shrugged and nicked the last slight of date cake from under Seth's questing fingers. "Probably still 'discussing' things with that theater guy."

Seth glared at the both of them for their lack of manners. "Whatever my lord Pharaoh may or may not be discussing with that tart Ryuuji is none of our business."

Snorting, Jou swallowed his mouthful of rice pudding and said, "'Course it is. If this Ryuuji jerk is bein'…well, a jerk…then Honda and I, as the Pharaoh's Royal Guard, need ta teach him some manners."

"More likely you just need to teach Atemu better ways of flirting than annoying the object of his affection," Honda replied shrewdly.

About to argue against that – Atemu would never go for anyone so…uncouth – Seth's eyes went as wide as his dropped jaw as a loud shout ricocheted off the walls. It sounded eerily like his bother's voice…

But not in pain?

Elsewhere, in the Shadow Realm, Hathor snickered with Amaunet. It seemed that Isis had finally gotten around to fulfilling her threat of meddling in Atemu's love life.