Disclaimer: Still no luck with the whole stealing the rights to Yu Gi Oh! thing…

A/N: It's alive! Alive! (...I always wanted to say that...)

I'm terribly sorry for the delay, old chaps. I had an awful case of Writer's Block.

I realized I made a mistake with the ages. Seto was five when Mokuba was born, but since I'm figuring that several months have gone by since then, he would have turned six. So, yeah; Seto is six.

Seto stared in open amazement at the sight before his eyes.

Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined such an enormous building. The homey huts of his village seemed like pigsties compared to the beautiful white castle that towered above him. Its walls were a shining white that seemed almost unnatural – should they not have become stained by dirt and the weather? – and colorful flags and banners hung from the battlements. He could see more towers reaching towards the heavens than he knew how to count, and even the smallest portion of the massive complex could have easily held several of his former homes stacked one on top of the other.

Even from a great distance, he had sensed the extreme bustle around the keep and the village that surrounded it. The place seemed about to burst from the activity as more people than he had ever seen before gathered in this one area.

Castle and village sat proudly atop a small bluff that protected them from attack on three sides. The third was fronted by a churning river; the only way to cross was via a drawbridge that could only be lowered from inside the castle wall. The village was protected by that same wall, spreading out from the castle's main gate by the bridge and surrounding the colossal structure.

They crossed the drawbridge, with Seto clinging tightly to the horse's mane as the mighty river passed beneath them. Where he came from, rivers were things to be feared and respected even as they gave life to the land and creatures around them, not tamed by man like was demonstrated here. Such a drastic change was disturbing to the small child.

These thoughts were immediately forgotten as they passed through the village. Seto's senses were assaulted with so many wondrous, fantastic, unbelievable things that his head spun and he was left in a stupefied daze. His eyes could see thousands of different colors, more shades of reds, oranges, yellows, and every other spectrum of the rainbow than he had ever seen in the sky after a storm. The sweet songs of minstrels combined with the chatter of the crowd and the squealing, braying, and lowing of assorted animals to make a pleasant symphony of sound that serenaded the boy's ears. The wind, cool on his face, brought the scent of people, animals, and a hundred different types of food products to his nostrils, and his mouth watered as he imagined what such wonders would taste like.

It was one of the most terrifying things he had ever experienced.

He found himself missing the quiet peacefulness of his home even as he delighted in what his senses told him. He shook his head, gritted his teeth, and resigned himself to his new future.

They entered the palace itself, coming out in an immense inner courtyard that was at least the size of Seto's entire village. It was no quieter here than it had been in the town: stablehands hurried forward to take their horses, officers shouted commands, people called greetings and praise to the soldiers. Seto pressed back against the firm man behind him only to feel his traveling companion begin to dismount.

Duncan steadied the boy as he wobbled and almost fell, then pulled him gently from the saddle and set him on the ground. Someone led the horse away as Seto re-accustomed himself to standing upright, his stiff muscles protesting.

Duncan crouched down by his side. "Ye all right?"

A shaky nod.

A hand was placed on his shoulder as the soldier gestured to Lady Elaine, who had also dismounted and was now walking towards them, Mokuba still in a sling across her chest. "Ya need to go with Milady, sir."

Seto watched her approach warily. He had kept an eye on her the entire time, making sure that she was being sufficiently gentle with his baby brother, and, aside from a few clumsy amateur's mistakes, she was doing a decent enough job. She had saved both their lives, and he had resigned himself to trusting her.

The language barrier would be a problem, however. He looked back at Duncan. "Are you coming?"

Duncan squeezed his shoulder. "I can't."

"Why?"

"Stupid rules and regulations."

Seto frowned at the vague reply, opening his mouth to press for more information, but his mouth snapped shut as Elaine finally reached them. She spoke to Duncan in the strange language that was so much gibberish to the little boy. He picked out his own name from the string of nonsense, but other than that he could no more understand what she was staying than he could fly over the castle wall by flapping his arms.

Seto shifted his weight from foot to foot in impatience, his eyes on his infant brother. When there finally came a break in the conversation, he interrupted them by tugging at Elaine's riding skirt.

Surprised, she smiled down at him. She said something, and he didn't need to understand the words to hear the question.

"My brother. Give him to me," he answered.

Elaine glanced at Duncan for a translation, then gazed down at Seto. He was now holding out his arms in silent demand for the child, and with only the slightest hesitation she bent down and placed the boy in his arms.

Mokuba was awake. As his gray eyes settled on Seto's familiar face, he smiled and gave an infant's gurgle. A tiny hand stretched up to touch Seto's cheek, and the small boy giggled, his only way to express his glee at seeing his brother.

Seto smiled, taking the boy's hand in his own. He could feel Elaine and Duncan's eyes on him; he ignored them. They didn't matter.

Elaine finished speaking with Duncan. The soldier bowed to her, grinned at the boys, and trotted off to join his regiment. The noblewoman knelt down by Seto, saying something slowly to him. He sighed, patiently shaking his head.

She mimicked his sigh, then held out her hand. Awkwardly, the boy shifted his brother so that he was held with one arm; with the other, he took the offered hand.

He stayed close to her as she led him inside the castle and down a labyrinth of twisting turns and passages. He was lost within the first five minutes; navigating the forest near his village was easy, but this maze of stone walls was beyond him.

They climbed a set of stairs, headed down another passage, climbed more stairs. She stopped more than once to make sure he was keeping up and wasn't too winded; he would have told her that he'd worked harder than this on a daily basis if she would have understood him.

They finally stopped outside a simple yet elegant wooden door. Elaine turned to smile at him, doing her best to look reassuring, but the fact that she seemed to think he would need it undermined the effect.

The noble opened her mouth to speak, then remembered it wouldn't do any good and grimaced. She patted him on his shoulder instead, squeezing slightly. He resisted the urge to shrug her hand off – this woman was not his mother! – but managed to hold it back. If they were to fall out of favor with Lady Elaine, their lives would be forfeit, and as the bundle in his arms constantly reminded him, that was not an option.

Straightening, Elaine knocked on the door.

Mariam Norris sat in a large rocking chair next to the fireplace in a scene that would have been serene had her very manner not been of a hawk preparing to strike. Her hands, which in others of her generation might be trembling with age, worked briskly at a square of needlework, which was already covered with a complex pattern of design and color. Vines, laden with brightly colored flowers, wove amongst each other as various birds dove through the "air," filling the cloth with fantastic images that only a skilled artist could create.

She was bored. This was a sad fact. The masterpiece in her lap held no interest for her; she had made better. She worked on it absently and reminisced about the past.

The old woman had come to Draikren's Peak many years ago, when she had not been quite so old. She had been escorting her charge, a young girl, into her new life, and, somehow, she herself had found a new life as well.

A boring one.

One would think that after all she'd done for the Lady Elaine, the least she would receive in return would be some excitement.

It was then that someone knocked on the door.

Mariam sighed, glancing out the window. According to the sun, it was a little past noon. Lady Elaine had probably just returned from her trip and was paying her old nurse a visit. How thoughtful. The old woman scowled. What a woman was doing on a trip like that she had no idea, and she wasn't afraid to voice her thoughts – loudly – to anyone who would listen.

Whoever was outside the door knocked again.

"Well?" she called impatiently. "It's not locked, you know. It never is."

The door swung open and Lady Elaine's voice rang through the room. "Hello, Nurse! I'm back!"

"'Course you're back," Mariam snapped without looking up. "If you weren't back you wouldn't be talking at me and I'd still have some piece and quiet." She was actually glad for the disturbance and both women knew it, so Elaine didn't comment.

"So? How was your trip?"

"Well, actually, it–"

"Can't have been good, I imagine," the old nurse interrupted. "Don't know what they were thinking, bringing a woman on an excursion like that. I told them, I said, 'There's no place for a lady like Elaine in with filthy soldiers and dead children,' but did they listen? No, they did not!"

"It's funny you should mention that–"

"I hope they didn't make you watch or go down into the ruins. Those poor people. I've never understood why we can't just leave them alone; they haven't done anything to harm us, now have they? We just–"

"Nurse!"

"Yes, dear?" Mariam finally looked up, surprised at the urgency in the noblewoman's voice. When her eyes fell on the small figure standing in the shadows at her former charge's feet, she gave a little gasp and covered her open mouth with one hand. "My lady..."

"Nurse, this is Seto and his little brother Mokuba," Elaine said, putting her hand's on the little boy's shoulders and shoving him gently in front of her. "They're survivors of the raid."

"Survivors?" Mariam asked, still looking stunned. "But they never leave survivors."

"Well, they did this time," Elaine said, her tone defiantly firm.

The old nurse knew that tone of voice. "Elaine, you didn't..."

"I had to, nurse."

"You..."

"Nurse, listen." Her hands tightened on the child's shoulders. "I... They..." She took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts. "I couldn't just let them kill them, Nurse. They had run from the village, and Seto was already hurt, and I couldn't just let them kill defenseless children. It's like you said, they never did anything wrong!" Her eyes, wide and pleading, beseeched the older woman to understand.

"You did them a disservice, did you know that? They're going to be taunted and ridiculed their entire lives. Should have just let them die."

"Nurse..."'

Mariam sighed. "What do you want done with them, then?"

"I... I convinced the baron to... to let us adopt them."

"Adopt... My lady!"

"Well, it was either that or let them be killed in cold blood!"

The nurse stood, setting aside her needlework. She came over to look down at the young foreign boy and the tiny infant clutched in his arms. "Well? What do you want me for?"

"Well... I was hoping that... you could..." At Mariam's raised eyebrows, she tried again. "It's just that... I mean, you raised me, and I thought..."

"Shoving all the work off on me, eh?"

"Oh, Nurse, no, I'll help, really I will! It's just... I really... have... no idea... what to do," she finished lamely, smiling sheepishly at the old woman.

"Hmph. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I couldn't let them die, Nurse."

"Hmph," the nurse said again.

Before any further argument could be made, the baby gave a little whimper. Three pairs of eyes settled on his form as his face wrinkled and a thin whine escaped his lips.

Eyes wide in alarm, the older boy tried to silence the babe, murmuring in his own language and jouncing the little body up and down once or twice. "Shh, Mokuba, hush, I know you're hungry, just wait a little, please..."

His efforts were in vain, however. Soon the whine had turned into a wail as the tiny child proclaimed his need to the entire world.

Mariam glanced at Elaine. No help there; the noble's face was the picture of panicked helplessness. With a melodramatic sigh, the old woman bent down to eye level with the older child. "You, boy. Seto, is it? Give him to me," she snapped in his native tongue.

So surprised was Seto that she could actually speak his language that he didn't resist when she plucked the infant from his arms. "Elaine, when was the last time this boy had anything to eat?"

"Why, not since breakfast... just after dawn. Nurse, I didn't know you could speak Hikarian!"

"Well, what would you do if you were holed up inside all day with nothing to do? What do you mean, not since breakfast?"

She bit her lip nervously. "Is that wrong?"

"Damn straight it's wrong. Boy, how old is your brother?" This last was directed at Seto in Hikarian.

"A few moons," was the startled reply. "What are you doing to him?"

"Seeing to it that he gets some proper nutrition. If you want to be helpful, run down to the kitchens and tell the cook to mix up some baby formula; she'll know what I'm talking about." Seeing him hesitate, she added, "Don't worry, she speaks Hikarian. Off you go."

"But–"

"Don't argue, boy."

"But I don't know the way!"

"Hmph. We'll all go, then. Elaine, come, we're going down the kitchens."

Elaine blinked as the old woman switched languages again. "Okay."

Mariam herded them out of the room and into the hallway. As they again entered the maze of passages, Seto resigned himself to being lost and decided that the first thing he would have Duncan teach him would be how to get from point A to point B in this warren of stone.

When the arrived at the kitchens, the eccentric old woman wasted no time in ordering what she wanted. She kept up a running chatter with both Seto and Elaine, explaining what the milky substance that was being heated up was – the finest goat's milk, mixed with various herbs that were supposedly very healthy for children Mokuba's age.

She fixed Seto with one sharp eye. "And I suppose you'll be wanting something, too, eh boy?"

Seto raised an eyebrow at her, glancing at where Elaine now sat feeding his brother.

Mariam followed his gaze. "No, not like that, Elaine dear, what do you want to do, break his neck?" She adjusted the woman's hold on the infant and then turned back to Seto. "No, you don't have to drink that. Don't see me drinking it, do you? You do have teeth, don't you? You can handle solid foods? 'Course you can. Hold on." She then snapped something that he couldn't understand at one of the cooks. The girl winced and nodded, hurrying to obey the order.

A plate of strange smelling food was shoved in front of him. It was nothing like what his mother had made, nor even akin to the food they'd eaten on the journey here. He sniffed at it suspiciously and wrinkled his nose.

"Well, go on, boy, eat it. It's not poisoned, you know."

He glared at her, then picked up the fork from the tray. He held the instrument awkwardly in his hand – he much preferred chopsticks! – and struggled to remember what Duncan had taught him about how to use the foreign object. Finally getting the hang of it, he took a bite of the food.

His eyes widened. Really, he should stop being surprised at how good the food tasted; he'd had this reaction every time he'd tried something new. He happily set about devouring the rest of the chewy meat.

"That's it, boy," the old woman encouraged. "Eat it all up, now."

Seto was only too happy to obey her.

Seto gazed out at the courtyard. He had left his brother in the capable hands of the old woman – she'd told him to call her "Nurse Norris" or even just "Nurse." At least, he was pretty sure her hands were capable. She'd certainly known more about children than Elaine had.

"After all," she'd said when he'd commented on this, "I did raise Lady Elaine."

He'd managed to convince her to give him directions to the courtyard. Her instructions were good, and he'd gotten here with no trouble. His problem was what he was supposed to do next.

He wanted to find Duncan. Elaine and Nurse Norris were all very well and good, but Elaine, of course, couldn't understand him, and the nurse was... well, she was a very interesting person, to say the least.

Sighing, Seto set out across the still bustling courtyard, trying to remember which direction Duncan had left in. Deciding on a direction (but none too sure if it was right or not) Seto hurried down a stone tunnel.

When he reached the other side, he smiled in satisfaction. He was pretty sure this was it. He saw several low to the ground buildings sprawled across an open space – soldiers' barracks, perhaps? There were also men in uniforms and a hundred other buildings and devices of unknown military use. Where else would he find a soldier?

Suddenly, a familiar sound reached his ear. Memories rushed back to him, and he felt tears prick his eyes as he recalled the training grove and his father's teachings. He swallowed, blinking away the tears – he would not cry! – and followed the sound of wood against wood and metal against metal, accompanied by not a few battle cries, until he'd reached a large area that had been cleared to allow the soldiers room to practice their weapons skills. He sat down at the edge of the field, studying their techniques carefully.

The little boy went unnoticed for quite some time, however there was no way for him to avoid their attention forever. With a cry, one of the soldiers disarmed his opponent. Scowling, the defeated man retrieved his practice sword and gazed around the field, looking for something to vent his anger on. Seeing Seto, he gave a dark chuckle and jogged up the child, motioning for some of his friends to join him.

"What are ye doing here, sonny? Looking for trouble, are ya?" he asked.

Seeing the incomprehensive look on the boy's face, he laughed and sneered. "What, too stupid to understand?"

"Prob'ly," one of his friends joked. "He's the little brat Milady took in; Hikarian, can't y'see? Stupid filth..."

"Ah..." With a wicked light in his eye, the man smiled down at Seto. "What're you doing here, son?" he asked in Hikarian.

"Sitting," Seto answered simply. "And I'm not your son."

The man laughed. "No, you're right. My son doesn't have dirty blood like ya."

"Excuse me?"

The soldier and his friends laughed again. "Ya heard me, y'filthy brat. Go on home, why don't ye?"

Seto felt strangely calm. He would have thought that he would be angry, and so was vaguely surprised at this, but he knew that this fool was not worth his anger. He did need to be taught a lesson, however. Seto could arrange that.

"I would, sir," he said, keeping his voice clipped but polite, "save for the problem of a great load of murderers going through and burning it down."

"Oh ho, murderers, are we? I think that was a challenge, don't you, boys?"

"You can take it as such," Seto replied calmly. Inside he was smiling.

"Give th' kid a sword." The brute had a malevolent smile on his face; it was clear that he was certain that he was going to put this foreign brat in his place.

Seto glanced idly at the wooden practice weapon that was offered, point first, in his direction. He stood, ignoring the weapon and heading for a nearby rack that held other options for him. Never trust anything an enemy offered to you.

He tried out several of the practice swords until he found one that had a weight and balance he was comfortable with. He carved a figure eight into the air with it and allowed a flitting smile to grace his features. Then, nodding his satisfaction, he returned to the soldier.

The man was waiting for him with sword drawn. Forgoing the customary pleasantries of bowing and saluting, which Duncan had told him that even this strange culture saw fit to observe, the brute swung his sword at the, in his opinion, helpless youth.

It was over very quickly. This man was no great swordsman, and Seto wouldn't have been surprised to learn that he was drunk. His attack was easily blocked, and the small child quickly slid under his arms and sent his wooden blade up to whack the bully in his groin.

The man, who was not wearing armor, gave a strained groan and dropped to his knees. Seto had gotten out of his way by then, and he helped his opponent on his way down by bringing the weapon crashing down between his shoulder blades.

Seto danced back and waited for the next attack. It never came.

Suddenly, a roar of laughter split the air. Seto and the man's friends, who were bent over their fallen companion, turn to find its source, and Seto was delighted to see that Duncan had been watching the small skirmish. He waved; the man returned the gesture.

"That's what ye get for pickin' a fight with a Hikarian, Cerdric," Duncan quipped, careful to use Hikarian so that Seto could follow. "An' don't look so surprised. They teach 'em young where 'e comes from."

He walked up to Seto, standing in between the glaring soldiers and the small boy. "How ye doin', sir?"

"Please don't call me that."

"What shall I call ye, then?"

"Seto. That's my name."

Duncan smiled. "Master Seto, then." Seeing the boy open his mouth, he held up his hand. "I have t' use some formalities, or I could get in trouble."

Seto sighed. "Whatever."

"So, Master Seto... How'd ye like t' try yer skills wi' someone who actually knows what 'e's doin'?" The soldier grinned and chose a practice sword from the rack.

Seto smirked. "And I thought I was the only arrogant one around here."

"'Nuff talk, then."

They spared for some time, and Seto's rudimentary skills soon began to be his downfall. Rather than laughing as their observers did whenever the wind was knocked out of the boy, Duncan helped him to fix the problem. The man reminded Seto of his father, and he again felt tears prick his eyes.

Furiously, he blinked them away and concentrated on what Duncan was telling him. Suddenly, a tall figure caught his eyes.

It was Gozaburo. The Captain was studying him with cold interest. Their eyes met, and Seto felt burning hatred and determination settle over him.

Are you watching, Captain Gozaburo? You'd better be, because it's the only way you're going to survive our next battle. Because I swear it, we will battle again!

The two children sat in silence for a while after the older finished telling his tale, each lost in his own thoughts. Finally, the younger broke the quiet by sighing, looking at his brother, and breathing, "…Wow…"

The older boy gave him a tiny smile. "You always say that."

"I always mean it, too." The little boy crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly, not believing that his beloved brother would dare to doubt him.

The offending brother's smile grew to a smirk. His little brother was a wild one at times, though he was the sweetest person that the twelve-year-old knew. "You should get ready for bed, kid."

Predictably, this idea was not met with any enthusiasm. "But–"

"No buts. It's way past your bedtime; you don't want to get in trouble, do you?"

The little boy sighed. "Guess not." He slid out of his brother's lap, where he had been curled up until that time, and shuffled dejectedly to the oaken door of the bedroom. Upon reaching the door, he stopped. "Hey… Big brother?"

"Yes?"

"Did Seto ever revenge his parents?"

The older brother hesitated, and then his expression softened. "I'm sure he did."

"Good," the child smiled back. Turning, he opened the door, but stopped before he could step through. "Big brother?"

"Yes?"

"The story… Is it real?"

The older child looked at the younger one, the flickering light from their fire casting shadows on his face. His little brother watched him with baited breath, hoping and fearing what his answer would be. Unbeknownst to the little boy, the older's hand was touching a cordwhich hung around his neck, suspending a bloodstained arrowhead over his heart.

Finally, the older boy spoke.

"…No, Mokuba. It's not."

"Oh." The seven-year-old's face fell in disappointment. "Well… Goodnight, Seto."

"Goodnight, little brother."

A/N: You now know all the background for the real story. Any guesses as to what happens next?

I slaved over this for hours when I was sick so that I could bring it to you today. Now show some appreciation and review me, please?