Prelude

The pharaoh had been dead for two years, though perhaps 'dead' was the wrong term; for it's impossible to kill that which died long before anyone involved knew he'd even existed. That was how things had been before Seto Kaiba learned of the pharaoh's existence and the connection with which they shared. It was a mental state he longed to return to during the year he spent being dragged from one impossible situation to another. Now that it was over and done, he was bound and determined to return to the sanity of everyday life, sanity that involved nothing more or less than his work.

He'd spent countless man-hours and sleepless nights rebuilding Kaiba Corporation from the bones of his adoptive father's company. Money well earned, in his opinion, off the backs of smaller companies that funded his rise to power. That was the world of business, as had been well drilled into his mind. You worked to gain power, then with that power, you kept it, no matter the accruing cost.

There was only one small fault in that worldview, already shaken by all the fantastical events he desired to put behind him.

Mokuba.

It was late in the afternoon of December twenty-fourth when Seto checked his watch again. Mokuba should have been released from school two hours ago, yet the boy had not yet shown his face at the company. Seto was annoyed enough already. There was a pile of documents sitting on the smaller desk perpendicular to Seto's that couldn't be processed further without the signature of the company's Vice President. The office itself was hard planes of chrome and metal, buffed to a shine under the fluorescent lights.

Seto considered calling his security to track Mokuba down. It'd been years since the last time someone had threatened Mokuba's safety, but one could never be too cautious.

He was reaching for the phone when the office door opened. Mokuba strode inside, looking nonplussed about his lateness. In fact, his demeanor could only be described as 'jolly'. His messy black hair was still long, though he started to tie it back once he started high school. The strands were dusted with snow and his cheeks were pink from the winter chill. There was a vibrant red scarf tied around his neck and he carried a plain paper bag in one hand.

"Sorry I'm late," the boy said.

Seto's eyes followed his brother as he crossed the room to deposit the bag on the smaller desk. There was a sound from inside, like paper shifting together. It was slight, as if the bag was more empty than not.

"Where have you been?" Seto asked. "We had an investor meeting at three o'clock."

Mokuba paused in removing his scarf. "Oh. Sorry. I forgot. I was delivering Christmas cards."

Seto grimaced. "Christmas cards?"

"Yeah." Mokuba twisted the scarf in his hands. "Lots of Yugi's friends are back in town, so I figured I'd stop in and see them. Jounouchi picked Shizuka up from the station yesterday, and Anzu flew in with a friend from New York."

"You were needed here. We don't have time to waste on those losers." Seto picked up his pen and motioned to the stack on Mokuba's desk. "You have forms to sign, then you need to go home and start on your homework."

"Come on, Seto, they're not that bad. I figured you'd be a little nicer about them after-"

"Don't finish that sentence."

Mokuba rolled his eyes. "You can't just pretend it didn't happen."

"I'm not pretending, I'm moving on, there's a difference. Will mulling over it pay my staff? Or satisfy my customers? I lost too much productive time on ridiculous ventures and that isn't time I'm ever going to get back. I have a company to run and I need you to be here when you say you're going to. Once you graduate and take your spot as Vice President full time, you need the staff to know they can depend on you."

Mokuba's jaw and mouth tightened, all color draining from his lips. The guilt in the boy's large gray eyes was too much to bear, and Seto looked away. He picked up a file from the pile on his desk and flipped it open.

"Was there anything else?" he asked.

Mokuba was silent, but there was no sound to indicate that he had taken his seat. Seto refused to look back up. To him, he had made his point and any further arguments were invalid.

"Yeah," Mokuba said at last. "Yugi invited us to the Christmas party he's throwing tomorrow night."

Seto internally groaned. Christmas was, by far, his least favorite time of year. It meant employees asking off for the holidays, calling out sick on Christmas Day, or, worst of all, showing up for work hungover. What did they care if their frivolities cut into his bottom line? All they had to do was show up, get paid, cash their end-of-year bonuses, then go home.

There was only one person who he let get away with that kind of behavior, and he was not even old enough to drink yet. Though if they had not been related by blood, Seto doubted he'd have been so lenient.

"We're not going," Seto said.

"Come on, Seto."

"I'm not repeating myself."

"But Anzu said you really need to meet her friend. She didn't say why, but-"

Seto's eyes snapped up, the hard contempt bringing all objections to a halt. "So that's what this is about."

"No, it's not, I swear. At least I don't think it is."

Seto scoffed. "You can tell her thanks, but no thanks. I don't need anyone's help, least of all in that department. Now get started on those signatures so you don't end up staying up late doing your homework. It's best you not fall behind. College entrance exams aren't as far off as you seem to think."

He returned his attention to the file and began making notes on the document inside. He could feel Mokuba's gaze boring into him, but he made no more demands. The boy knew what was expected of him, part of which included who he was and was not allowed to spend his time with. They'd spent too much time around Yugi and his friends already, enough to where it seemed their sentimentality was infecting Mokuba's good sense.

"I'm going," Mokuba said.

"We're not arguing this."

"No. I'm going, and you can't stop me."

The teen's fists were clenched at his sides. From the short distance between them, Seto could see they were trembling.

"I'm sick of this, Seto. All you do is work. What if I want more, huh? What if I actually want friends? Yugi and his friends have always been really nice to me, and I like them. They've helped us out a lot. The least we can do is be nice to them."

"We don't owe them anything. I'm done involving myself in their matters. All that's ever done is draw us into more and more trouble. I, for one, am ready to put all of that behind me and move on."

"You mean forget."

"If that's required."

"I'm still going, and I'm going to Yugi's tonight to help set up too."

"No, you're not."

"Make me," Mokuba snapped. "You're not my dad. You can't punish me."

A tightness clutched Seto's throat. He watched as Mokuba turned away from him, red-faced, and sat at his desk. The sound of the boy's pen on the paper was akin to chalk on a blackboard. Each scrape of the ballpoint sent a fresh stab of regret through Seto's chest, but he said nothing, even as Mokuba took up the finished documents, deposited them on Seto's desk, grabbed his belongings, and left the room.

The whole process didn't even take an hour.

The thought to stop his brother passed through Seto's mind, but what would he have to say? Seto knew he was right. They didn't need anyone else but each other, and the sooner they put everything behind them, the sooner Seto could move on with his life.

The wind was biting cold when Seto left the office around nine. The chill snaked through his veins, crept deathly cold fingers along the back of his neck and through his hair. He pulled his collar tighter around himself and bowed his head against the onslaught.

The estate was not much better. The house staff had left lights on for the brothers before departing for the day; in the foyer and down the hall that led to the brother's respective bedrooms and Seto's home office. The lights illuminated Mokuba's unfathomable need to lavishly decorate the house for the holidays. Sparkling string lights around every doorway; garland and bows on the banisters of the staircase; huge fir trees draped in baubles of every size, shape, and color. Each one seemed to have a different theme.

Seto spared these eyesores only the quickest glance as he headed up to his office. His steps faltered outside Mokuba's bedroom door. The knowledge of its emptiness left a hole inside him, ever-expanding as the two of them seemed to grow further and further apart.

It was no matter. He knew Mokuba would come around eventually. Childhood only lasted so long and the boy would have to learn the harsh realities of the world and the cutthroat nature of business sooner or later. Seto had to, there was no reason Mokuba shouldn't too.

There was a prickling on the back of Seto's neck. He reached up a hand to find the hairs there standing on end. He looked back down the hall, but found no one but himself. Eyes narrowing, Seto turned back and continued to his office. As he went to open the door he caught the shadow of what he thought was movement out of the corner of his eye, but, when he looked again, the hall was still empty.

He scoffed and shook his head. It was just his mind playing tricks on him. He had been getting little sleep over the last few weeks. Every night he laid in bed only to find himself restless, though, for what reason, he couldn't say. His every nerve seemed to alight with what felt like anticipation, as if his body expected some event or disaster.

The only light left on in his office was the desk lamp. It illuminated the solid wood monolith in a pool of warm light. A beacon in the dark that beckoned him, offering respite from thoughts that often trailed to the past against his will.

He took off his coat and blazer as he crossed the room, laying them across the back of the couch as he passed. At the corner of the desk, just as he was laying his briefcase across it, he saw it again, the movement of a shadow just outside the circle of light. The shape had form, substance. This was not just some trick of the light or an illusion cast by his overtired eyes.

Someone was in the room with him.

He made no quick movement, no biting remarks. With all the casual air of someone adjusting the objects on the desk, he picked up his remote for the overhead lights and clicked them on. The room flooded with white light, dispelling the shadows that cloaked the book-filled shelves that lined the room. Seto was blinded for a moment, but, judging from the gasp that sounded from behind him, so was his uninvited guest. Seto smirked with his victory and turned to face his intruder, only for his satisfaction to flounder at the sight of the familiar man with his head of tri-colored hair.

The pharaoh was resplendent in his kingly garb; his ears, neck, wrists, and brow were draped in glittering gold. His skin was bronzed and appeared to radiate a light of its own, making that of the fluorescents seem dim by comparison. Around his neck hung the inverted pyramid of the Millenium Puzzle, which had served as his home and prison for many millennia. Any lesser man would have looked upon the sight with awe, perhaps even fear.

It just made Seto mad. "You."

The pharaoh lowered his hand from where it shielded his eyes. "Is that the best greeting you can offer?"

"What'd you expect, for me to fall on my knees and bow to you?" Seto crossed his arms and sneered. "Forget it. What do you want? Bored with the afterlife, so you decided to come back just to piss me off? Shouldn't you be haunting your loser friends or something?"

The pharaoh glowered at him, the intensity of his gaze seeming to make the ambient glow around him shiver. "I'd watch your mouth if I were you."

"What'll you do? Smite me?"

"Don't tempt me."

"Then what are you doing here? Whatever it is, get it over with. I'm a busy man and I don't have time to waste on you."

The other man was statue still for many long seconds, eyes narrowed as he seemed to mull over the point of his visit. He released a heavy breath. "I was checking in."

Seto raised a brow. "You've been spying on me?"

"Not on you, no. I wanted to make sure Yugi was getting along well without me."

"Then shouldn't you be bothering him instead of wasting my time? I'm sure he'd just love to see you. Get the whole gang back together. What a sickeningly heartfelt reunion. Just leave me out of it."

"That's why I'm here."

"Oh, for fu-" Seto pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not this again. I already told Mokuba that I wasn't going to some stupid party. If he couldn't convince me, what makes you think you will? I don't have the time or the patience to deal with you people anymore, let alone let you set me up with some vapid, empty-headed American."

The pharaoh's brows disappeared beneath his diadem. "That was… thorough."

"I've had time to think about what I'd say if any of you showed up on my doorstep. Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do." Seto moved to sit down, one hand grasping the back of the chair. "I trust you can see yourself out. I'm done talking to the ghosts of my past."

He got as far as sliding the chair behind him, prepared to sit and ignore the pharaoh's presence until the man gave up and left, but he was stopped by his own words ringing alarm bells in his mind.

He met the pharaoh's expectant gaze. "No."

"Good," the pharaoh said, "then I don't have to explain."

Seto pushed away from the desk, putting as much space between himself and the pharaoh as he could. "This is not happening."

The pharaoh took a step forward. "Kaiba-"

"No." Seto stabbed a finger in the other man's direction. "I'm not doing this Christmas Carol bullshit. I don't need you digging up old wounds from my past just to try and teach me a lesson."

"Don't you?"

"Absolutely not. I'm done looking behind me. You and your lackeys have dug up enough of my past already."

"And you're not curious as to what your future holds?"

Seto's mouth opened to snap back with some witty response, but his brain refused to produce one. He forced his muscles to relax, his jaw closing into a thoughtful frown. He had many projects in the works. New editions of the Duel Disk system; the academy about to break ground; explorations into space travel. The idea of seeing how they panned out, to be allowed to gauge their success and coarse correct to make them better, was tempting.

He recrossed his arms. "Why?"

The pharaoh smiled at him, small and reserved. "Because I owe my cousin a favor for leading in my stead. I was unable to repay him in his lifetime, but I can in yours."

"We're not cousins."

"No, but we used to be."

"What's the catch? There's always a catch."

"Before I show you what you want to see, you have to let me show you what you need to see."

Seto resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Of course."

The pharaoh tilted his head to one side, his expression calm, but quizzical, expectant. Seto ground his teeth, waiting for the other man to say something else he could argue against, but nothing came. The pharaoh had won and he knew it.

Seto closed his eyes and took a deep breath, questioning his sanity. He stomped over to the smaller man, towered over him with all the contempt he could muster, which was usually enough to make anyone else flounder before him. Not the pharaoh. Seto's overbearing presence never seemed to have an effect on him.

"Don't make me regret this," Seto said. "So, what? You're going to fly me out the window?"

The pharaoh held out a hand. "Take my hand and close your eyes."

Seto grimaced at the appendage. "I'm not holding your hand."

A familiar flash of challenge came over the pharaoh's violet eyes, filling Seto with satisfaction. He'd forgotten how intense those eyes could be when faced with adversity. He'd been on the opposing end of them often enough.

"Do you want to know or not," the pharaoh said, "because this is your last chance. I leave here this time, I'm not coming back. I'm satisfied with how Yugi's living his life. I don't see any reason to return. You, however, have great cause for worry."

Seto's arms fell. A shiver of anxiety skittered through his veins. "What do you mean?"

"You won't know, will you?" The pharaoh beckoned with his outstretched hand.

Seto set his jaw, his mind racing with every horrible possibility. Mokuba? Kaiba Corporation? Death? Ruin? Some enemy yet to make their appearance? Could he sleep that night not knowing? Could he live with knowing that something terrible lay ahead, but not having the tools to combat it?

Seto took a deep breath, held it, grasped the pharaoh's hand, and jammed his eyes shut.