Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Gi Oh!. I do own this story. If there are any characters in this story that you don't recognize, they're probably mine. Don't forget it. Don't sue me. I don't like being sued.

"You all right, kid?"

"Of course!"

"You sure? You look a little scared. I don't want you to have nightmares."

"I'm fine! Besides, I've heard the story before!"

"Yes, and you always turn white as a sheet at this part."

"Well, maybe I'm a little worried, but not scared!"

"All right, calm down."

"What happens next?"

"You've heard the story before, remember?"

"Yes… but keep going, you're just getting to the good part!"

"Very well…"

"Quick, stop him!"

"You there, stop!"

"He's getting away!"

The furious cries from the ruined village only urged Seto on, running faster and faster through the dark forest that he had once considered friendly. Now it was an ominous, shadowy thing, offering no help to the small boy as he fled his pursuers. At least the gloom might hide him for a little while, giving him enough time to elude capture and escape to somewhere they could never find him and his brother.

He could hear crashes not far behind him. Soldiers had entered the wood, cursing as they were met with briars and thorns.

The same thorns reached for Seto, clawing at his arms and legs, shredding his skin. He resisted the urge to cry out; he needed to be silent. They mustn't find him.

He was glad that Mokuba was being quiet. He doubted that the infant had fallen asleep again, not with all of the commotion around them. It was almost as if he had sensed the urgency of the situation, and held back the cries, normally an infant's solution to everything, that would alert their hunters to their position.

Looking ahead, Seto felt a wave of relief wash over him. He had been heading for a certain spot in the forest that he had visited many times when hiding from his parents, as all mischievous children will do. An old tree had stood here for as long as Seto could remember, one of its limbs just low enough for a child to climb onto and pull himself into the concealing branches. If he could reach it, he hoped to hide there. If they thought that he had kept running on past the tree, he might have a chance to escape.

The branch was above him now. He reached up with on arm, carefully holding onto his brother with the other, and grabbed onto it, hoisting himself up. He rolled on top of the broad bough just as the first of the soldiers came into site.

He held his breath, hoping beyond hope that they would pass by underneath.

They slowed to a stop underneath the tree, looking around. He heard one say something to another in their strange foreign language.Another said something in return, uncertainty in his tone.

Suddenly, there was a rustling off in the distance. The soldiers froze, then shouted and chased off in the direction it came from. Seto, who had lived in and around the forest since the day he was born, knew what the sound really was. He closed his eyes, sending a silent prayer of thanks after the fox, out hunting in the night.

Forgetting himself for a moment, he gave a loud sigh and leaned back against the tree trunk, preparing to wait out the night.

When he opened his eyes, he found he was staring at the smirking face of one of the soldiers.

Seto gave a yelp of alarm. His brain rapidly processing information, he realized that the foreigner must have heard him sigh, and immediately berated himself for failing to remember the need for silence.

The man reached for him, grabbing onto his collar; Seto bit him. The soldier shouted, blood dripping from the wound, and Seto let go, shoving himself away from his enemy. He fell to the ground, pulling Mokuba on top of him so that the infant wouldn't be hurt by the fall.

His breath was knocked out of him when he hit the ground; he lay in a daze. The soldier's furious shouts, and the sound of more soldiers crashing through the underbrush towards them, urged him to force himself to his feet and take off running.

He ran blindly now, not knowing where else to go. He heard the strangers pursuing him, shouting loudly. He looked around wildly for somewhere he might hide, and, with a cry of triumph, saw a thicket ahead that just might do the trick.

He tore inside through a small opening. Though he doubted that they wouldn't know where he had gone, he was sure that no one of the hunters' size would have been able to fit in behind him.

Thorns tore at his flesh, even worse than before, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out. He sheltered his brother as well as he could and kept on running.

When he had reached what he believed to be the center of the thicket, he stopped running, and, panting, turned to watch the direction from which he had come. He could just barely hear voices, though he couldn't understand them. Then he heard a voice that caused his blood to boil with rage…

Captain Gozaburo strode onto the scene, watching his men form a wall in front of the briar patch where the boy was hiding. He couldn't understand why it had taken them this long to corner the child. While he had admitted that the boy knew what he was doing with a sword, he didn't see why twenty of his best men hadn't been able to detain him.

He walked over to the man in charge of the troops. "Sergeant. What news?"

"'Ee's holed up in the thicket, Milord. None of my men are small enough to go in and get 'im out." The man smirked, and gestured to where some of his squad were starting to light torches. "We were goin' t' flush 'im out."

Gozaburo smiled viciously. "Very good, Sergeant. Carry on."

Seto listened uncomprehendingly to the exchange between the Captain and his subordinate. He wished he could understand what they were saying. The ability to eavesdrop would have been extremely useful just then. He would have given almost anything to know what they were planning. Little did he know, he was about to find out.

He was relieved, if a little suspicious, to see that none of the men were trying to enter his refuge. He crouched down, trying to get comfortable yet still have to capability to run at a moment's notice.

He looked down at the infant in his arms. Wide gray eyes stared back at him; the tiny child gave a small whimper.

"Shh…" Seto whispered, trying to remember what his mother had done when Mokuba looked like he was going to cry. The memory was painful, but he managed to keep the boy silent.

It was then that he noticed the glow coming from the direction of the foreigners. He didn't realize what it meant until he felt a wave of heat wash over him.

Fire! he realized with a start. For a minute he was paralyzed with horror, before he sprang once again into action, racing away towards the opposite end. They would be waiting for him, he knew. He would just have to be sure that they didn't catch him.

Lady Elaine Kaiba of Draikren's Peak sat sewing in her tent. She wasn't sure why she had been brought on this excursion; they certainly had no intention of allowing a woman to participate in or even observe the raid. Not that she would have wanted to, of course. The sight of so many innocent villagers, some of them children, being slaughtered would have made her sick.

She sighed. She was bored. Her husband, the lord of the Peak himself, was off somewhere in camp. Captain Gozaburo had assured him that his presence wouldn't be necessary for this raid, but he still felt the need to be out and about while his men were carrying out such a task.

She was surprised to hear shouting in the distance. The men weren't expected to return for quite some time, but she couldn't think of who else could be making that racket.

She was even more surprised when she heard what the voices were saying.

"Quick, stop him!"

"He's heading towards camp!"

"Blast, would someone just kill that kid?"

"Kid?" she murmured. "What kid?"

Curiosity getting the better of her, she stood, walking towards the tent flap. Lifting it, she peered into the gloom.

In the distance, she could see what appeared to be twenty of the soldiers sent to the village running about in random directions. More soldiers were scurrying about in the camp, arming themselves and hurrying to the assistance of their fellows.

It took her a few minutes to pinpoint what exactly had them all so rallied up. She gasped when she saw the small figure that was darting around the clearing.

"It's just a child!" she gasped.

She knew the rule for raids such as this one. Her husband was very strict about enforcing that no one, man, woman, or child, was to survive such a thing. He believed that they would cause trouble for him in the future. But Elaine could not allow an innocent child to be slaughtered without putting up a fight. Hitching up her skirts, she ran in the direction of the commotion.

She had almost reached the tiny figure when one of the soldiers, apparently having had enough of the chase, shot an arrow at the boy. It found its mark in his side, and he fell to the ground with a cry, curling around the wound and around something that he clutched in his arms.

The soldiers quickly formed a circle around the still form, one of them stepping forward with dagger drawn, prepared to end the boy's life.

She could watch no longer. "Stop!" she called.

They looked at her, surprised.

"Milady, what…?"

She pushed her way through the circle, kneeling down next to the child. She expected to find him unconscious, even dead, so she was surprised to see blue eyes piercing into her own. She stretched out a hand, gently placing it on the child's shoulder.

He shrank away, whimpering. She noticed him curl tighter around whatever he was holding, so tight that whatever it was emitted a small squeak.

The boy eyes widened at this; he quickly sat up, allowing whatever it was to breathe again. She drew in a breath herself when she saw the tiny figure.

An infant… she realized.

Blood from the older boy's arrow wound stained the little one's face and smock, from where it (she could not tell if it were a male or female) had been pressed against the boy's chest. She looked at the wound, hoping that it wasn't that bad.

She didn't know a lot about injuries, but it didn't look life threatening. She sighed in relief.

She could see fatigue in the older child's face. Smiling reassuringly, she held out her arms, offering to take the boy's burden off his hands.

He shrank away again, holding the infant protectively. He said something in his native tongue, a language she had never been schooled in.

"It's all right," she murmured, knowing that he could no more understand her than she could him, but hoping that her voice would calm him down. "I'm not going to hurt you, it's okay."

Gently, she took the infant out of the child's arms. He let her, watching her apprehensively, prepared to lunge forward and snatch it back if she made the least gesture to harm it.

She cradled the infant in her arms, still smiling at the boy. "See? It's okay."

The soldiers watched this exchange with nothing less then amazement. They lowered their weapons, uncertainty spreading through them.

"What's going on here?"

Soldiers, woman, and boy all stiffened at the familiar voice. The only one who appeared unaffected was the infant, who watched everyone with interest, not understanding the danger it was in.

"Lady Elaine? What do you think you're doing?" Captain Gozaburo shoved his way past the soldiers, scowling.

She looked up at him, frowning. "They're just children, Captain. Surely even you cannot be so cruel as to murder them."

"You know the rules, Milady. No survivors. You're husband is very firm about that, as am I. They cannot be allowed to live."

"Why not? Look at them! They're just children, just scared little children! Why must they be put to death?" She placed a protective arm around the older child's shoulders, shifting the infant so that she held it with one arm. The boy stiffened as she did so, not trusting her, but he didn't pull away.

The Captain sighed. "Why are you being difficult, Milady? You didn't protest when we set out in the first place. If this heathen boy hadn't fled here you wouldn't even have known who he was."

"Well, I know now. I won't let you slaughter them, Captain."

"Milady, don't make me fetch your husband…"

"You have no need to, Captain. I'm already here." A tall, slightly overweight man had joined the group, limping slightly from a battle wound acquired long ago.

"My lord!" The soldiers and the Captain all dropped down to one knee, showing reference towards the baron. Lady Elaine, already kneeling next to the injured boy, bowed her head.

"Captain Gozaburo is right, my dear. We cannot allow these children to survive."

"But that's cruel!"

"My dear…"

"Please, my lord!" she beseeched. "Let them live!" She searched for some excuse, any reason at all for her husband to bend the rule and allow them to survive. "My lord, we have no children, you and I. You need an heir. We could take them in, we could–"

"You are suggesting that we raise heathen children as if they were our own?" he sputtered, incredulous.

"Yes! They're both very young; look, this one can't be more than a few years old! And this one's just an infant! They're young enough that we could teach them as if they were born to us. Please, my lord, anything but killing them!" Her grip around the boy's shoulders tightened; he hissed in pain as she brushed the arrow shaft still sticking out of his side, and she rubbed is arm in apology, willing him to keep quiet.

The Lord of Draikren's Peak looked down at his wife and the children she was so determined to keep alive. She was right: they had no children of their own, nor were they likely to acquire any. He could see the pleading in her eyes, the fear and pain in the older child's, and the innocence in the infant's. He sighed.

"Very well. But they are to stay out of my way."

"Thank you, my lord, thank you!"

He waved her gratitude away. "I don't want to hear of them causing trouble. They are your responsibility, Elaine," he said, sounding very much like a parent giving a child their first pet. Indeed, that was all the children were to him, toys to keep his wife amused until something better came along. And if nothing better did come along? Well, he supposed they were better than nothing.

Captain Gozaburo stayed silent throughout the argument, gritting his teeth as he watched the woman persuade the old lord. He had been looking forward to killing that brat.

"Captain, I trust that there were no more, survivors," the baron said, turning to face him.

"Yes, my Lord Kaiba. The village is dead." He tried to keep his hatred for his lord out of his voice. It wouldn't do for the baron to learn of that just yet.

"Good. You are dismissed, Captain."

"Yes, sir." He turned to his troops, motioning for them leave as well.

Elaine watched all of this, and then turned her attention back to the children. She stood, holding out her hand to the older child. He hesitated and then took it.

She led him to her tent, taking care not to walk too fast for him. His legs were much smaller than her own, and he was tired and wounded on top of that. Had she not held the baby, she would have picked him up to save him the trouble of walking at all.

They reached her tent. Elaine let go of his hand to lift the door flap. She started to walk inside, then noticed that the child wasn't following her. She turned to look at him and saw him facing away from her, staring off into the distance. She frowned, following his gaze.

He was looking out at the horizon, where a faint orange glow could still be seen. His village, she realized. She felt a wave of sympathy wash over her. Poor thing. That's his home they burned to embers, his family and friends they killed… Such a terrible thing to have to go through, especially for one so young.

She was startled, though not particularly surprised, when he murmured something in his native language. Dropping to his knees, he said something else, his hands grasping the grass beneathhis feet.

She knelt down next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to soothe him. He made no effort to move away this time.

She rubbed his shoulder, saying, "I wish I could understand you, little one. I'm going to have a hard time helping you when we don't speak the same language."

"He said, 'Father.' And then, 'Mama.'" She looked up, startled. Captain Gozaburo stood watching them, his face expressionless.

"Poor thing," she said, hoping that perhaps the Captain had had a change of heart. "He misses his parents. What happened to them, exactly, Captain Gozaburo, do you know?"

He nodded. "His father was a brave fighter, I'll give him that. He knew how to use a sword." He grinned nastily. "I had a rather amusing time, killing him."

She grimaced. "And his mother?"

A blasé shrug. "My men had their way with her before she died."

Elaine shivered at what he was implying. She hoped that the boy hadn't watched either of his parent's deaths; she could only imagine the kind of trauma such a sight would put him through. "Ask him his name, please, Captain. I need to know what to call him."

Captain Gozaburo frowned, but complied, speaking to the boy in a hard voice.

The child looked up at her, his eyes bleak, then turned his attention to the formidable man in front of him. He replied in an emotionless tone, then gestured at the infant in her arms and said something else.

"He says his name is Seto, Milady. And that his brother is called Mokuba."

"Thank you, Captain, that's very useful. If you will excuse us?" She stood, once more taking the boy's hand. "Come, Seto, let's get you inside."

She felt a tug on her hand; looking at the boy, she could see his eyes fixed on the retreating back of the Captain of the Guard.

He shouted something. Captain Gozaburo stopped, turning back to him. The boy spoke, and Elaine was alarmed at the cold fire in his tone.

The Captain laughed, replying mockingly. Seto answered him in the same voice as before. Gozaburo laughed again.

"What did he say?" she asked.

"He's swearing revenge for what I did to his family and promising to retake his father's sword," he showed it to her, "and kill me with it. Nothing to be concerned of, Milady." Still chuckling, the man turned away.

Looking down at the hard eyes of the little boy, remembering the deadly tone he had spoken in, Lady Elaine wondered if the Captain shouldn't be a little bit more apprehensive about the threat.

Seto watched the woman who had just saved the lives of his brother and himgently wrap Mokuba in a blanket and settle him on one of the sleeping mats that had been brought to the tent. The infant had fallen asleep some time ago. Seto envied him. He was exhausted. His skirmish with Captain Gozaburo, his run through the forest, not to mention the fact that he hadn't gotten a full night's sleep, had left him drained of all energy. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open.

His ordeal was not over yet, however. Finished seeing to the infant, the woman was walking towards him. She knelt down in front of him, looking him in the eye, and spoke.

He shook his head, giving her a small smile, trying to show that he didn't understand. She nodded.

She reached forward, touching his forehead. "Seto," she said. She half turned, gesturing at his brother. "Mokuba." She put a hand to her chest. "Elaine." She cocked her head at him.

He nodded. He understood. He tried out the foreign word, the name feeling strange in his mouth.

She smiled, saying something else. He heard his name, but that was all that he could understand. He shook his head again.

She reached forward, gently touching the arrow shaft in his side. She then gestured that he should stay in the tent, and left.

Seto sat back, leaning slightly on the tent wall. There were no chairs in the tent; it was obviously a temporary facility.

He waited. Fifteen minutes later, Elaine returned, followed by a small man that he had never seen before.

Elaine came over to him, carefully picking him up. He stiffened, alarmed; he'd never been held by a stranger before. She murmured to him in soothing tones, and he relaxed slightly, allowing her to carry him towards the stranger.

She sat down at the man's feet, holding Seto in her lap. The stranger crouched down next to them. There was a bag slung over his shoulder; he set it down in front of him and began to examine Seto's side.

Then Seto realized who this man was. A healer, come to look at the arrow wound.

The healer snapped off the shaft close to his flesh, then gently removed his shirt and began to work on the wound itself. Seto clenched his jaw as the arrowhead was removed and the wound cleaned and bandaged. The pain was immense. Elaine held him steady, talking softly to him.

When he was finished, the healer held up the arrowhead to Seto, offering it to him. Seto took it, examined it, and put it in his pocket. It might come in handy.

The healer rose, speaking with Elaine. He handed her a container from out of his bag and left.

Elaine stood, still holding Seto, and carried him over to the nearest sleeping mat. She set him down on it, then pulled the lid off the container. He could see a whitish cream inside. She began to rub the cream into the many scratches in his skin, given to him by the underbrush in the forest.

The cream stung, but not as much as having the arrowhead removed had. He gritted his teeth and was able to keep from crying out.

When her task was complete, Elaine stood, replacing the lid on the jar and setting it aside. She picked up his shirt, offering it back to him. He took it, pulled it on, and sat watching her, waiting to see what she did next. He hoped she would let him sleep; he wasn't sure how much longer he could stay awake.

She smiled, his fatigue obvious to her, and nodded. With a tired sigh, Seto lay down on the sleeping mat and closed his eyes, immediately falling into a deep sleep.