Wow, how the hell did I end up here? I'm kinda sorta back. Not sure if I'll finish this, but I wanna get back to some old obsessions and stuff I wanna get out of my head. I've had a bad time with my mental health for like two years so I'm giving this a try after a long hiatus and adulthood. My headcannons and feels for certain characters have lingered so why fight it, right? Let's see if I still got it, shall we?

All of the below is part of my many many many years of headcannons.

The King's Legacy

Chapter 1

"Dad! Dad! Come on, hurry!"

I tighten my grip on the handle of my suitcase, trying to take bigger steps while still keeping my son's bag balanced on my shoulder. He promised to help me carry the bags when I had warned against his typical overpacking. Teenagers think parents are just blowing smoke. Well, now he's not the one carrying all the bags now, is he? Yes, the great Yugi Muuto, reduced to a bagboy.

"We're fine. We've got an hour to get to the gate. I thought you wanted a snack?" I say, breathless. He stops at another board to check our flight time. I see his shoulders slump with disappointment as I finally catch up to him. Nope, the time of the flight hasn't moved up, just as I told him. I smile at his enthusiasm through my annoyance at his typical teenage habits.

"Maybe a snack would be a good idea," he says, his voice trailing off.

I let his bag hit the ground with a thud. "Good," I say. "Then you can have the strength to carry this. You promised you would" I offer him the strap of the bag he insisted on overstuffing with what I can only assume to be rocks. He rolls his eyes and takes it from my hand. As he turns to walk further, he lets the bag drag on the floor. I chuckle. When did my sweet little boy get so much attitude?

It must be from his father's side…

"Ok then, what do you want to eat? We could just grab some chips from the magazine stand or maybe a burger at a restaurant?"

"No, that would take too long! The lines are bad!" he quickly answers. "We cannot be late!" He emphasizes the second word with such fervor I dare not question him. I simply nod.

"Ok, I'm going to get a protein bar or something right over there. Come take a look. We can eat at the gate." I point towards one of the magazine stands, rows of chips and candy behind the books, t-shirts along with miscellaneous and cliché airport trinkets. He immediately bolts for the stand, his bag bouncing on the ground as he does. I take my time making my way over, enjoying his enthusiasm. I used to have that kind of energy. My excitement at the small joys in life hasn't dwindled, but time and parenthood have made me less inclined to show it outwardly at times.

I quietly browse the choices on the wall and let my mind drift, never quite thinking directly about why I'm here. I just want to settle my stomach. I make my choice after a while and look up. My breath catches in my throat when I realize what my misdirected focus has done. My son is nowhere to be seen in the small corner of the airport. The shelves are short, yet no one peeking out from above them is my son. The room is now a blur. Panic fills my stomach. I hear my own heartbeat thunder in my ears. I thrash around still not seeing him. No! I lost him. My breath come out in haggard pants. Time stands still yet thoughts rush through my head at a million miles an hour. I call out his name, hoping he's nearby.

"Kibou!?"

"Yeah?"

I turn around to see him in the hallway, looking in the window of another shop, his mouth already full of a candy bar that muffles his voice. I let out my steadying breath, trying not to show my frustration. He's thirteen but that doesn't mean I won't panic the second I realize he's nowhere to be seen immediately. A father's worry never goes away. I calm myself and feel my mind slow down. He's ok. He just walked a little far. He's ok.

"Stay right there, I'm coming. Just let me pay!" I quickly throw a couple bills at the cashier before rushing across the hall. He's looking in the window at some stuffed animals and snow globes.

"Oh, so I'm too slow for you but when I turn my back, you think it's time to finally time to window shop?" I say, trying to convey something like parental annoyance through painless humor. Boy, Jichan will love this story. He'll say something about karma or whatnot and laugh over my freaking out for losing my kid for literally 15 seconds. I suppose it's par for the course, but embarrassment still courses through me and I hope I'm not blushing.

"Can we get stuff like this when we land?" he asks, not taking his eyes off the display.

I roll my eyes. "Trust me, we're going to find cooler stuff when we land. Stuff that's not so touristy."

"Did you get anything last time you were there?"

I sigh. "No, but your father gave me things I treasure more than anything I could buy while I was there," I say quietly, momentarily touching the cartouche around his neck. His eyes finally leave the window display and look at me.

"Yeah, but didn't you say Aunt Anzu got this at a gift shop?"

I smirk. "Yeah, cuz you're a smartass like your father!" I playfully nudge his shoulder. "Come on, let's sit down at the gate. You can be first in line if you try. I know you want to." I'm suddenly struck with the idea that I should get him his own cartouche when we arrive. I ponder it as I stick my protein bar in my mouth.

He nods a little too enthusiastically and I scold him to not choke on the last of his candy bar as we walk down the terminal. I focus on him as much as possible to ignore the buzzing in my head. This trip has so many layers to it and focusing on parenting is what keeps me sane. The personnel at the gate make some kind of announcement that I don't pay any mind to as we sit down by the window. Kibou doesn't make any indication that he heard it either, so I decide not to worry about it and check my phone. Yup, still 45 minutes until our flight takes off. We're just fine. I give him a reassuring smile and put my arm around the back of his seat to pat him on the back. The moment he smiles back at me, I must hold back some kind of emotion that threatens to bubble up to the surface. I take another bite of my bar and open some articles on my phone.

My son, my baby boy fidgets in his seat and turns on a game on his tablet. I promised him years ago that when he is 13, I would take him to Egypt to see the land of his father. My other self. That day is here and I'm not sure if I'm excited or not. It's a pilgrimage for him, and a chance for grief and closure for me. It's a trip on which I will have to see some places I never thought I would see again. Places that will make me confront what changed my life so drastically. But for him, my son, to find more about his family, his identity, and his heritage, I will go there. I will visit the last place I saw my other self before he left this world, and me behind, unknowingly and unnaturally blessed by the gods in his absence.

I stroke my son's back soothingly as I look him over. He has my other self's eyes, thank the gods. They're narrow and crimson underneath his blonde bangs that are much like mine. Behind them is his ruffled red hair that more resembles my jichan's. His face is stout like my grandfather's too, but around his cheeks and eyes is a softness I can't deny is from me. He is already slightly taller than I am, which, given what my other self showed me of his past memories before he left, is like the king before him. His skin is darker than mine, yet not as dark is my other self's had been when I finally saw him as he was before he came to be with me. My son has pieces of all the great men in his life shining in his looks. I'm grateful to be a part of that mix, but not as much as I am for his eyes that are directly from my other self.

The days immediately after I defeated my other self to release him to the afterlife he desperately deserved were a blur. They felt empty. They were filled with dread and lonely nights. I hated the quiet. I cursed it. I didn't realize how much I needed those late-night talks with my other self to sleep at night. The sleepless nights were torturous. I missed his voice, his touch, his… Well, you can't expect a connection like ours to lead to nothing, can you? We went from being passively ignorant of each other, to passively respectful, to simple talking, to becoming partners in battle, to loving each other so gradually that if you asked me when it was I fell in love with him, I wouldn't exactly be able to pinpoint it. But through it all, we loved each other. We promised forever to each other. When he said that, I followed through with my own promise in more ways than one. For a time, even through betrayal, heartache, and the constant knowledge that his time with me was temporary, we pushed through for each other. To love him physically in our soul rooms regularly was natural no matter what was going on otherwise in our life together. It made me feel whole. It made me feel that no matter how this would end, it was proof that our love was real. The experiences he gave me were real and would last. I couldn't regret it.

Then there was that night. The last night. I knew what I had to do for him. I made the choice to be the one to fight him. I was determined to see everything through the way I was supposed to. Yet, he wouldn't let me do it without spending one more night together. He knew how it would be. He knew I was strong and wasn't going to pretend I hadn't changed because of our relationship. He broke down the walls that night that kept me from wanting to open up to him before our duel. I thought my job was to be silent, but my duty to myself was closure. Showing me that was his last gift to me at the time. We made love that night, as we had many times before. Yet, as our eyes met, we both acknowledged it felt different than any other time. It felt, more solid. More real. It had more weight to it physically and emotionally. Our connection that night felt more intense than I've ever known. It was there, and then in a flash it was gone when he left the next day at my own hands. When I once felt unimaginable pleasure and love, I then felt numbness and grief. I doubt it has ever gone away.

Over the next months, I felt sick with grief. That's what I told myself. That's what my friends told me, too. Finally, when Jounouchi had enough of seeing me vomit after countless sleepless nights and suffer migraine after migraine, he dragged me to the doctor. The doctor came in and looked at me as if he'd seen a ghost. Turns out, the gods had a hand in not only taking my other self to the other side with them, but also in preparing the way for their plan. The doctor told me he'd seen me in a dream and was told what tests to run. The next words out of his mouth caused a ringing in my ears, but a sense of peace and acceptance washed over me as I pondered the words:

You're pregnant.

Jounouchi had come into the exam room with me while they ran the blood and urine samples. My outward response was to stare at the wall and take deep breaths as I pondered what this news meant in the context of all we had seen. Magic is real. The gods are real. My other self and his powers were and are real. Yes, this could happen. Jounouchi's response was more akin to what one would normally picture when told that their male-born friend is pregnant. His hysteria was understandable. His disbelief didn't go far due to him seeing the same I had in our adventures, but his freakout spoke volumes. The doctor from that moment on became family. The gods communed with him on my care and how I ended up where I was. They created a way for our sperm to merge. They gave my body a womb just for growing an heir. King Atem left this world and behind him was a legacy of heroics and service. Growing in me was his reward. Growing in me was the continuation of his lineage. It was a chance to let his legacy continue. Because that is what he deserved. And I his chosen lover became his vessel yet again. This time, I was the vessel for his prince. I took the honor with me to the delivery room after months of sickness and pain. The moment I heard his first cry behind the curtain above me during the c-section was the first time I felt joy since my other self left. Seeing him, I knew his name. I gave him a name in my native tongue which means 'hope.' Kibou Muuto.

To watch him grow up in the years since has taught me the meaning of 'bittersweet.' Raising him as a single parent has been easy when my friends have been surrogate parents to him since the moment we found out he was on the way. The days immediately after his birth brought painful recovery for me after the surgery to birth him, but my friends were faithful as ever to me. They let me stay upstairs in bed with his bassinet next to me at all times. They slept downstairs in the living room with a baby monitor. When he would cry, they brought his warmed bottle up to me so I wouldn't have to get up while I healed. Anzu begged for pictures often when she left for New York. Mai returned during my pregnancy and was the main organizer for assisting me. She spent most of her time while I experienced labor switching between comforting me and yelling at Jou and Honda to get me ice chips and a cold cloth for my forehead. Her ferocity has been welcome in providing my son with matronly figures in his life. Anzu mothers him from afar and sends him souvenirs from New York while she teaches dance there along with mothering her own daughter. Jou is always up for a duel, even when he is on patrol as a cop. When my other self left, we all had to admit that sometimes, duels aren't what get rid of the bad guys. All our other friends have their own lives, but Kibou draws them back often. They love watching him grow up. Our connections stay strong through our histories together, but Kibou is like an extra bow holding us together. He's the blessing we never knew we could expect. Jounouchi likes to say he's the true embodiment of the puzzle's main power of unity. I can't say I don't agree with that assessment.

My acceptance of the unthinkable miracle of being pregnant was only interrupted by my fears that any expecting parents has: how the actual fuck was I going to do this? Was I good enough for this? How am I supposed to be responsible for another human being? Especially since my other self wasn't here to help raise the child he had helped create. Again, my friends are the greatest gifts I ever could have hoped for in my first wish on the puzzle and were all the help in the world, but parenthood was something I never pictured for myself. Pregnancy wasn't easy to say the least. I lost a lot of sleep and most of my meals in those long months. I only found out three months into it, and each of the remaining six months was long and agonizing at times. Hiding my pregnancy and wearing baggy hoodies and sweatpants everywhere got old during the last trimester. Couldn't risk the speculation and the wrong types of people learning the truth of magic and the gods in the world. There are still some dangers involved with our association with such things, Seto says. Still, those sweet moments of feeling him kick and imagining how he would emulate his father stayed with me just as my friends did in bringing me anything I needed for my own comfort and for the baby. Watching Jou and Honda put the crib together was an event! When I felt contractions a week before my scheduled c-section, they were there. When I was admitted to help the contractions stop long enough for the surgery, they all stayed right there at my bedside. Every birthday, every life event, every scrape and boo boo, my friends were there for him to comfort him, celebrate him, and share memories of his father with him. Every moment has been made richer because of my friends embracing my son, no matter how unlikely his existence should be. My other self made me stronger, and perhaps some of it was to be able to raise his son, whether he knew it or not.

One of my priorities in raising Kibou was making sure he knew where he came from. My other self wanted to know his history to understand his identity. I wasn't about to steal that from my son by hiding his true history from him. It's because of this that he was the one who requested this trip many years ago when he was finally able to fully grasp the meaning of his family. From birth, we all taught him that his birth was a miracle and that he is special because the gods and his father watch over him. He calls me Dad; my other self is Papa. Looking at our old pictures, he's able to distinguish which are of me and with are of his father. Accepting the reality of magic is as easy to him as breathing. My friends and I joke that we wish that transition had been as easy for us. I've told him about my other self's time as king and how we used to duel together. Oh, and when he duels, it's like looking into the past. I see my other self's fire in his eyes. He's good at it, too. Oh, how I wish he could see that. There are days when I wonder if he can actually see us here. If he actually knows that Kibou exists. Maybe on this trip, I will find out. I pray I get answers like that.

One thing Kibou knows for sure, even if I don't know if his father knows he exists, I still love my other self unendingly. What he doesn't know is that there are days I long for death to reunite me with my love, but when I look at my son's eyes and smile, all of that melts away. He is enough to help me push through. He is my reason for living.

And as I am snap out of my musings over my life, I know that is what brought me here. The announcement pierces my ears like a distortion over the microphone. Our group can line up to board. Kibou bounces out of his seat like it's on fire. His hopes for this trip are to see how amazing and badass his father was. He wants to see what it means for his future. He wants adventure in his future like I had when I wasn't much older than he is. Oh my son, how much I want to spare you from the horrors that we experienced. I know how your grandfather felt when your father was a child. I want better for Kibou than heartbreak and fear that the ones you love will be hurt because of you. Yet, like any young boy whose only burdens involve homework and chores, adventure of any kind sounds pretty damn awesome. And to have it built into your DNA is an added bonus that you were meant for more than the simple life.

"Dad!"

I'm gathering my things into my bag as quickly as I can.

"Hang on, son, they're not leaving without us."

"They will if you don't get up!"

I smile. "Your uncle is only a phone call away if anything happens. We'll get there somehow someway, but that's not a concern. I'm just getting my things. The gate is right there, we're fine."

"I'll get us a spot for our bags but I'm leaving without you if you're not on the plane when it leaves." He turns in a huff. I stand up, my bag all set.

"Oh yeah, I'm so old that walking a few feet is going to take me sooo long to do," I joke. Fatherhood had either made my sense of humor develop or dwindle depending on your tastes.

"Hurry up!" he calls from a few feet away.

He grabs my boarding pass and scans both of us in quick succession. He begins to run down the walkway and a crew member scolds him before I get the chance. As I take a couple steps toward the gate, I reach into my pocket to text Isis that we are boarding. As soon as I hit 'send' another notification flashes across my phone. It's Seto. I hesitate for a moment, but I open the text. "Speak of the devil," I mutter to myself.

Have a safe flight. Tell me when you land. I expect details when you get back.

I bite my lip. Unease builds up in me again. I insisted that this be a private trip for just me and Kibou. It's his father, and my lifelong love we're going to honor. For a moment, I want to feel that we're a full family. I don't need any distraction or someone who could ruin the mood. Yet, I let him in just now. I have no answer anymore as to why I didn't let him come. He's my son's family. I fight the guilty pit in my stomach and put my phone back in my pocket.

"Dad!"

"Yes yes, coming."

"You know, they won't recognize my royal status when we get there, but you will. So you better listen," he jokes, puffing out his chest a little as I join him in the cool walkway. I grin as he waves his boarding pass in my face.

"Or what? Off with my head?"

He shakes his head. "Shadow games have cooler consequences, right?"

My smile fades and I put my hand on his shoulder. "It depends on your definition of 'cooler,' son."

"Did you think Papa was cool when he did that kind of stuff?"

I make a face at the question, searching for an answer. Kibou's spitfire questions about my other self are coming more frequently, and he does offer the morally ambiguous question now and again. "Eh," I say with a shrug. "Only if he did it with love as the motivator. He regretted hurting people later on."

"What would Papa think of this trip?" he asks quietly.

I put my arm around his shoulder. "I think he'd be walking a little taller to see how excited you are to see a part of his life. He probably would have already built you a shrine to you to celebrate the first royal birth in millennia! He would have been our guide, I'm sure."

"Do you think we'll see paintings and pictures of Papa on the walls of the temple? I wanna see how they recorded his awesome battles!"

I squeeze his shoulder. "Remember, son? We're going to his tomb, not a temple."