Chapter 5

Atem had learned long ago that it was easier to ask forgiveness than permission, especially when permission would probably be denied. So, rather than ask for Yugi's consent, after Yugi had bathed and climbed into bed, Atem simply eased his master into a deep, restful sleep. If he hadn't, he felt certain that Yugi would have lain awake all night. His first clue had been the way Yugi lay as stiff as a statue, his hands clenched in the bedcovers. Yugi's gaze darted from ceiling to Atem, who had made clear his intentions to spend the night in the armchair at the foot of Yugi's bed. Eventually, Atem had taken pity on him and sent Yugi off to dreamland with a thought.

Now, several hours later, Atem stood beside the bed and watched Yugi sleep. He knew this would freak out Yugi if he had been awake to witness it, but he couldn't help himself. Yugi was unlike any of his previous masters and, completely against his will, Atem found himself fascinated.

There was nothing spectacular about Yugi's looks. Oh, he was attractive, with those big eyes that revealed every emotion and a smile that could light up the room, but it wasn't Yugi's looks that compelled Atem's interest. It was the soul lurking behind those almost-purple eyes that held his attention. Now, with Yugi sleeping, Atem took the time to really look at him.

Yugi's hair was even messier than usual, bleached bangs covering most of his face. He had kicked off the covers, exposing his lower body. Loose cotton boxers left both legs bare. The right leg was normal, from slender ankle to sturdy thigh. The left leg was thinner, the muscles not as developed. From the pale skin on both legs, it seemed obvious that Yugi never wore shorts in the sun. Was he embarrassed by his weaker leg?

Unfortunate, Atem thought, letting his gaze roam where his hands could not. Yugi had nothing to be ashamed of. Atem had met many people in his years as a genie, but never anyone as intriguing as Yugi. For the first time in his existence, Atem had begun to regard his summoner not merely as a master whom he must serve, but as a person he would like to know better. A person, he reluctantly admitted to himself, who stirred desires long-dormant and, perhaps, best left unexpressed.

Atem turned away and stalked across the room to the open window. The air was warm and humid, a far cry from the dry climate of his homeland. He leaned on the sill, staring with unseeing eyes out into the darkness. From the flower bed below, the faint scent of night-blooming jasmine wafted up to him. He inhaled deeply, trying to distract his mind from the dark thoughts lurking at its edges.

Why was Yugi so different from his other masters? Over the millennia, he had served many masters, none of whom stuck in his mind as more than faceless shadows. Some had been worse than others - more greedy, perhaps, or more cruel. A few had turned that cruelty upon him, taking delight in wishing for services he had no desire to give. Some had demanded he come to their beds. Those were, perhaps, the worst of all. Thankfully, even those masters had not held him in the physical world for long. They summoned, they wished - and he returned to the realm of shadows and dreams. Sometimes, he was grateful when his memories faded, even as he mourned the loss of true sensation once more.

Before Yugi, the longest Atem could recall staying in the physical world was half a day - perhaps a bit less. No previous master had ever hesitated over his or her wishes; usually, the entire process took only an hour or two. Why was Yugi so different? Baffling, frustrating, endlessly fascinating Yugi. Atem shook his head. This master would not fade into another faceless silhouette. Even in the prison of dreams, Atem knew he would remember Yugi.

He glanced back at the sleeping figure on the bed. Yugi had shifted to curl on his side, one hand fisted in the light sheet still covering the upper half of his torso. In the moonlight, he looked young, almost innocent - and far too appealing.

Hands flexing at his sides, Atem strode to the bedroom door. He couldn't stay here a moment longer, or he might do something he would regret. He cast another look at Yugi, sighed, and went back to straighten the sheet so that it covered his bare legs. From the information the magic had dumped into his brain the moment Yugi completed the puzzle, Atem knew that even the sluggish breeze coming through the window could cause Yugi's leg to ache. The easing of the slight lines of tension around Yugi's mouth told Atem he had done the right thing. Turning, he made again for the door.

Silence had settled over the house. Atem tested the limits of his freedom, moving cautiously down the hall toward the stairs. If he strayed too far, the curse would punish him. The air would turn to syrup in his lungs, impossible to breathe, and the pain would force him back to his master's side.

But the night was peaceful and the stillness granted him the freedom to explore. He reached the bottom of the stairs without incident and paused to reflect on how such a small matter as the ability to walk where he wanted had taken on such a large meaning in his life. Once, he had done as he pleased, with few limits imposed upon his will. The Pharaoh's chosen heir, he had been the only child of the Pharaoh and the Great Royal Wife. He had grown up in the royal nursery with his half-brothers and half-sisters, all children of Pharaoh and his lesser wives and concubines. As a child, Atem had loved all of his siblings, making no distinctions between their ranks. It was not until he reached adulthood that he came to understand not all of them had such generous hearts.

Bakura…

Atem sank down onto the bottom step of the staircase and rested his head in his hands. Son of the Pharaoh and a Hittite princess, Bakura was Atem's half-brother. Until that fateful day when Atem had realized Bakura was behind his capture, Atem had never understood the depth of the resentment Bakura felt toward him. In Hatti, Bakura was a prince. In Egypt, he was merely a vassal. Atem would become the Living Horus; Bakura would be expected to serve him.

Bakura had other plans.

-o0o-

"…Bakura." Atem stared at the white-haired man standing before him in the robes of a Hittite prince. "Brother-"

"Silence!" Bakura stalked toward him, a sneer on his lips. "I've no use for your words, Atem." The sneer turned into something twisted and cruel, frightening in its intensity. "Only your body."

"What? What do you mean?" Was his brother going to murder him and send his body back to their father as a cruel gift to torment him? "What are you going to do?"

From inside his heavy robes, Bakura lifted out a golden amulet - a large ring with a triangular shape at its center and five dangling pendants. He held it up by the chain so that Atem could see it clearly. "A gift from my late, lamented mother. You remember her, do you not?" His voice dropped to a growl. "The woman our father fed to the jackals?"

"She conspired against him!" Atem reminded him. "To do so is treason! He spared you-"

"Yes. Because his favorite little pet pleaded for my life. Fool." Bakura flung the word at him like an accusation. "Did you think I would thank you? Well, here is your reward!"

He thrust the amulet into Atem's face. "This amulet possesses a powerful magic." Bakura fingered one of the dangling pendants. "It can remove a ka from its body and put a new one in its place. Of course, without a body, the deposed ka cannot enter the afterlife or be judged in the Hall of the Two Truths. It remains an unjustified spirit, haunting the desert wastes until it perishes."

Icy fingers of terror clutched at Atem's guts, turning his insides to water. To be denied eternal life in the Field of Reeds was a fate worse than simple death. He stared at the amulet with wide, frightened eyes.

Bakura let the amulet fall back against his chest as Taduheba came to him and offered him a cedarwood box. From the box, he took out another golden object. This one resembled a small pyramid. A loop on the flat end held a cord from which to hang it. "Another of my mother's gifts. There are seven in all, each with its own power. This one will allow me to bind my own magic to your body."

Bind his magic? "Why would you do such a thing?"

"Why would I not? My magic is great. I would not like to be without it… once I have removed your ka from your body and taken it as my own."

"No!"

"Oh, yes. I shall return to Egypt, the sole survivor of a traitorous Hittite ambush. Pharaoh will welcome me, his beloved son and heir, with open arms… and when his back is turned, I will drive my dagger into it, and take the throne of Egypt as I was always meant to. Your spirit will perish in the desert, and I - I will be Lord of the Two Lands."

The sheer horror of what Bakura meant to do overwhelmed Atem. Bad enough to lose his body and all hope of the afterlife. But for his body to be used as a weapon, the instrument of Pharaoh's destruction… Atem twisted in the grip of the guards, desperate to free himself so he could, somehow, stop Bakura.

"No!" he cried, even as Bakura placed the pyramid's cord around his neck. The metal was cold against his bare skin, so cold it burned. Tendrils of something dark and repulsive coiled like smoke around the amulet. "I will not let you!"

"You have no choice, brother."

Bakura began to chant, and both the pyramid and the ring amulet flared with a light brighter than the mid-day sun. Atem screamed as agony ripped through his body. He felt as if great claws were tearing him apart, while, at the same time, something cold and dark poured into his heart like the rushing waters of the First Cataract in Flood. Dimly, he heard another's shout - and a woman's scream.

And then there was only darkness.

-o0o-

Atem shook himself as he emerged from his reverie. Unlike the sensations of everyday life, his last moments as a human man were etched indelibly in memory. He shoved his trembling fingers through his hair, grimacing at his weakness, and blew out a harsh breath. In all the years since that day, he had never worked out exactly what had gone wrong with Bakura's spell.

Instead of binding Bakura's magic to Atem's body and expelling Atem's ka, the spell had bound the magic and Atem to the pyramid amulet. He flexed his hands, giving them a critical stare. They looked the same as when he was alive, so he didn't think Bakura had gotten even that much of what he wanted. Though changed by the magic, Atem's body had gone with him, transformed into a creature of magic, a creature later cultures would name genie.

Sometimes, he still wondered what had become of his brother. He hoped that, however Bakura had finally met his end, it had been painful.

With a faint growl for the direction of his thoughts, Atem pushed himself to his feet and resumed his exploration of Yugi's house. He soon found that he could not move past a certain point. The kitchen, and the garage beyond, was out off-limits, but the rest of the house was not. Atem drifted through the rooms permitted to him by the curse, studying random objects and adding to his store of information about this modern time - and Yugi.

Yugi liked games and puzzles, and surrounded himself with books and a veritable jungle of houseplants. Atem ran his fingers along the spines of the books on one packed shelf, idly reading the titles. Yugi's tastes ran to adventure and ancient history - often in the same book. He had a collection of classic science-fiction novels, and rows of scholarly works, some of which looked as if they had belonged to his parents or his grandfather. There were few objects that seemed chosen strictly for decorative purposes, beyond those that must have come with the house. Comfort, practicality, and sentiment were the qualities Yugi valued. Framed photos of his family and friends. Small collections of polished stones, worn clay figurines, and pottery shards - all mementos of past digs. A paperback book of logic puzzles lay open on the table beside the most comfortable chair in the living room, and a chess board with a game in progress rested in the center of the little-used dining table.

The house, Atem noted, held no signs of a "significant other," past or present. For some reason he preferred not to examine too closely, the realization made him smile.