Their Promise

by Waifine

"When he looked at her, Kisara knew for certain. His scowl was just as hollow as her smile. Inside, they were both screaming in pain." The untold story of Kisara, from Atlantis, to Ancient Egypt, to Medieval London, to its final conclusion in Modern Japan.

4. Remembered Too Late

In this story the reign of Pharaoh Atem will take place in the New Kingdom era of Ancient Egypt, during the 19th Dynasty. It will be after the reign of Ramesses II and reign of Merneptah, and before the reign of Seti II. Technically Merneptah reigns from 1213 to 1203 BC. However, for the purpose of this story we will consider Merneptah's reign to end at the beginning of 1201 BC, leaving up to two years for the short but significant reign of Atem. We shall also consider Merneptah's reign synonymous with that of Atem's father, Aknamkanon, and Seti's synonymous with that of Seto's, who takes the throne after Atem.

Aknamkanon has been entombed. Atem has been crowned, and has just begun to acclimate to the grief of losing a father and the strain of leading a kingdom. The events of the Memory Arc take place midway through the year 1201 BC.

…

Book I | Remembered Too Late

Memory Arc

Part II

High Priest Seto: 20 years old

The Lady of the White Dragon: 18 years old

…

Mahad was no more.

Seto rubbed his fingers against his temples, trying to keep down the headache. The jostling of the litter in which he was being carried and the Egyptian heat weren't helping any.

Was Seto grieving though? Really? Not really, no. Mahad had been a brat raised to his position by birthright. Any of the talent that he had naturally had as a magician had been so blown out of proportion by pampering tutors and student-friendly environments that any of his own worth had been smothered in the process. It was no wonder he had cracked under his first real battle. And the way Mahad had always been so eager to be loyal and had always been so eager to please. It had been revolting. One could be loyal to the Pharaoh without licking his throne every other minute.

Pathetic.

No, Seto did not feel any remorse at the loss of Mahad. The Ring, however, was another matter. Mahad, one of the Seven Guardians of the Pharaoh, apart from his own life, had lost the Millennium Ring to Bakura. Now the Guardians were not only fighting the most skilled and ruthless killer in the land, but the same man, with a weapon on par with their own Millennium Items. Damn Mahad for his foolishness!

Seto looked over at Shada, who was in a litter right next to his own. The street down which they were being carried was relatively quiet, for Thebes anyway, the townspeople all bowing as they passed. However, Seto could still hear the hustle and bustle of market life just one street down. It was so strange sometimes… That had been his own world for so long. And now it was always, always a street away…

Shada looked saddened. He felt the loss of Mahad. Seto studied him for a moment out of the corner of his eye. Now that he thought about it, everyone was touched by the loss but himself. The Pharaoh had seemed as if he might disintegrate into his thrown when the news reached him, so devastated did he look. He had leapt on a horse and galloped to the site were the stone plaque stood, as if Loss were at his own heels, rather than at those of the fallen magician. To the Pharaoh, Mahad had been, aside from his royal adviser, his childhood friend. His closest friend. Then there was Mana, that annoying apprentice of Mahad's. She first sobbed a river of tears at the base of that stone tablet into which Mahad's soul had been etched, clawing at it with her fingers as if she could somehow reach through the granite to her wested master. And then, when she had finally run out of tears… she had become eerily silent. Seto last saw her looking over one of the palace's many balconies, puffy eyed and soundless.

And as for Isis… well, she acted as though nothing had changed. She had calmly comforted Mana – comforted her in front of that very stone tablet – and had slipped into Mahad's role of the Pharaoh's adviser as if she were water being poured into a momentarily empty gap where a rock had been thrown, and ripples had appeared. But only for a moment. She smoothed those rippers out, almost without blinking an eye. As if ripples, rather than desolation, washed over her world – her other half.

…Funny, it had been years since Seto had felt that way for anyone. He had known the pain that Mana was now going through. It had once been seared into him as his world burned around him. Isis… He knew that he would never, ever feel her pain. And he was the better for it.

Seto smirked.

"Seto," Shada suddenly said, dragging Seto out of his musing. "Do you really believe that Bakura is still alive?" There was a sort of subdued desperation in his voice. As if he could not believe that Mahad had died for nothing.

"That's a foolish question." Seto answered in a monotone, shifting to make himself more comfortable in the litter. "That man's ka rivals in power to that of the gods. You saw it then, didn't you?" Out of the corner of his eye he saw Shada shudder at the memory of the confrontation between Bakura and the Guardians, back in the throne room, when the Pharaoh had summoned a god. And when Bakura had survived. "Mahad died in vain," he said bluntly. A dog's end. "Moreover, the situation has worsened."

"The ring?" Astute, isn't he.

Seto couldn't dignify the obvious with more than a nod.

Then, after a pause, "With the Millennium Ring, that man's power has amplified tenfold, if not more," he said, scanning the crowd. They had come out here for a reason. "We also must hurry and reinforce our own kas, or else he will become too powerful for us to handle." Fool that Shada was, Seto still needed him. "Shada, your Millennium Key can see within people's hearts. You can also see if a person carries a powerful ka. You must help me eliminate the threats!" The harvesting of kas. It was such a delicious, simple plan. In a kingdom of this caliber – no, in a city of this caliber – with all of its corruption and foul play… Shada wouldn't understand. He hadn't been brought up in it. He hadn't fought through it to get where he was.

Seto knew. Seto had. And here he was now. In Thebes, the capital of the greatest kingdom ever known to man, the combined land of Upper and Lower Egypt. On a litter, carried about above the lot of them. He sometimes had to wonder – what was the actual worth of being honored and respected by the sort of scum over whom he now had power?

"You can't be serious!" Shada blustered. Tish. Typical. "We can't examine the hearts of innocent people!" …Innocent? Did he really just say innocent? How absolutely laughable. "Looking into someone's heart is a crime! Not even a priest can do it!" He had not expected Shada to understand. Even his mentor, Akhenaden, had resisted and advised against the actions he, Seto, now planned to take.

Can? What a funny word. Will was the only thing stopping the priests from doing anything. They had the power to do anything they liked. We can do anything. But the other Guardians… they will do nothing. Unlike Bakura. Unlike himself.

Seto had fought his entire life to lift himself from the mire and into the glittering, shining world to which he now belonged. He would not allow that world to crumble to muck around him. Did they not understand? Without action, the bricks that had been baked into those royal fineries would oh so easily crumple back into the dust from whence they came. Seto knew. He had seen it.

That was what the Pharaoh represented to him. The Pharaoh was that symbol of betterment that Seto had fought all his life to reach. The Pharaoh was something to be protected. Something not damaged by the pettiness of life. He was Ra. He was the Sun. An ideal.

An ideal that Seto had given his life to protecting. Could any of the other Guardians claim as much? Could any of them put into such certain words that which they simply called 'loyalty?'

"Listen," he said. It was not a request. It was a command. "From now on, we will not only be fighting Bakura, but the Millennium Ring as well." Again Shada winced. Yes, know it to be true you soft hearted man. Mahad's weapon – the one you have seen him carry and cherish all of his life – may very well be the cause of your, or my, end. That is the price to be paid for Mahad's foolishness, and your own. "Do you think we can oppose it? And do you think another like him might not rise and threaten this country if we do not harvest his evil soul now? Do you think the Guardians have the power to oppose such a threat?" A Millennium Item, in the hands of one who would, as well as could, do anything he must do to achieve his end?

Shada opened his mouth to protest, but Seto cut him off. "Also, if the Pharaoh is put into danger once more do you plan on relying on the gods' power again?"

The words died on Shada's lips. A smirk twitched upon Seto's.

"Halt!" he called out, turning from his fellow to the guards carrying his litter. With a jolt, the procession stopped, and Seto jumped from his seat. The dust rose under his feet as he landed. A small, nettling voice in the back of his mind would forever tell him that it was here, in the dust, that he belonged. Not there, on a litter, protecting so high a cause as the Pharaoh.

However, one look at Shada assured him that he was hardly one to think himself unworthy of his station. "Shada," he said flatly, meeting the man's eyes. "Mahad's actions were foolish." He could just see the muscle twitch in Shada's jaw at those words. Still, the man kept his peace. "However, we cannot simply rely on the gods alone. Bakura can challenge them. They are not reliable." The gods had never been reliable in Seto's eyes. Everything he was, he was because of his own merit. No god had ever helped him.

None, except for…

He turned sharply to the guards not carrying the litters who had come from the palace with himself and Shada. "Bring here any person that seems suspicious! Whether it be in clothes, appearance or race! Arrest all those who refuse to leave their dwellings! This is all to protect the Pharaoh!"

The men saluted him, and dispersed. Authority would bring peace to this world. Stone tablets are nothing when compared to the ruthlessness of the common man's justice.

Seto knew it would have been foolish to order them to first look within their own hearts, and see if they were really in a position to pass judgment upon their fellow men.

…

"Let go!" The howl overrode the pious silence around them and the sound of hustle and bustle just one street away. "Let go of me, DAMNIT!" The guards wrestled yet another resisting man to the ground.

"Lord Seto, we found this exiled criminal in the bar!" One of the guards gasped out, still holding down their prisoner. Two other guards slid the butts of their spears under the struggling man's chin, and raised his face to Seto's, and the man actually met Seto's eyes.

Consider yourself lucky, scum. Other men have died for less than looking up into my face. Then again, you still may.

Seto smirked. "Heh. An exile?" His eyes were sunken, and were dried like raisins. And yet, they seemed bottomless. The man on the ground still wore the ball and chain with which the exiled from the city were branded. Such men were blindfolded and driven out in a wagon to the farthest reaches of the dessert, far from the Nile. There were they deposited, and left to die. Such was their punishment. To have made it all the way back to Thebes… This miserable wretch might yet have some potential in him. "Shada, search for this man's ka."

Hesitantly, Shada raised his item to face the man beneath him. "Millennium Key, look into this man's heart." The Key shone, creating beams of light between Shada's closed fingers, and the exile flinched away, not because of any physical pain, but because of an attack that now went far deeper than the skin – to his core.

Rotten core.

"…In this one the ka gives birth to new wicked ideas. It isn't very strong, but if we leave him alone, he may become corrupted once again."

"Tish. Just a small-fry?" So much for having survived the desert. How… disappointing. Still… I wonder how much his spirit can grown in response to revenge and hatred. …Well, I suppose you could call it an 'experiment.' "Even if it's only one in ten thousand… Take him away to the underground prison!"

"Yes, sir!"

"P-please wait! I just crawled in from the desert today! I just wanted a drink in the bar! That's all I wanted! To make a toast to Shezmu! I just got back! How could I be a sinful man beyond redemption!?"

"From the moment the new evil ka was born, your fate was sealed," Seto said coolly. "And as for making a toast to Shezmu– don't act too indignant, when the god of wine is also the go of blood… and execution." This is what becomes of men without purpose. Men who do not know a cause worth fighting for to purify themselves.

"Got it?" Seto spoke to the soldiers around him. "We limit ourselves to criminals," he had begun to narrow his field. He was getting a feel for this harvesting of souls. "But sink your teeth into them without mercy!"

"Yes sir!"

"NEXT!"

And then Shada twitched. Wonderful. "Ugh, just stop it, Seto! The Pharaoh would never forgive you!"

For a breath of a moment, the thought almost nettled him. Almost. I don't need his forgiveness. I need his life. I need him to exist. To be for me a cause to fight for.

"Shada…" He said as patiently as he could. "We need to enforce our authority to protect the kingdom's structure from rebels! We do not know if there is a second Bakura out there, and we must and will take what precautions we can, both against the present enemy of the state, and any enemies that may surface in the future!"

"This can't be!" Seto turned to see that the exile he had just sent away had dug his feet into the ground, refusing to be moved. "What you're flaunting 'round ain't authority! If you do this to me, you'll be cursed! You'll all be judged by God!" Seto rolled his eyes, and made to turn away. "I saw it with my own eyes!" The man howled, his voice pooling with hysteria. "In the middle of the desert, there was the very incarnation of Ra! A light brighter than the sun! It's thanks to it that I was able to return to this city alive! That's right. The White Dragon appeared!"

Seto flinches involuntarily, and his eyes snapped back onto the exile. Suddenly, despite the heat of the day, a chill rode through his veins. "What? A… a white dragon?" The burning village. The heat. The clarity. …All faded in an instance.

And yet… the burn remained.

"It's true!" the exile blustered, seeing in the Priest's reaction a hope of survival for himself. "The White Dragon is in this city! It will definitely protect me!"

"White dragon… in this city…" Seto's throat was very dry.

"When I saw that dragon," the exile rambled on, "I knew it had answered my prayers! I knew it was a god! I god that actually heard the prayers of mortal men! An' I swore! I swore I wouldn't do anything bad, every again! An' I wanted… I wanted to fly away like that dragon! Oh, I wished I could! But all folks are born in chains! Chain's called life! Unless you're beloved by a god, ya ain't ever free."

Seto's head was pounding… With a sharp turn he had his back to the exile. His back to this story, this fantasy! "Let's go!" He no longer had thoughts for this reprobate. Nor for his lies!

Through the din of his own head he thought he heard Shada call his name.

"WAIT!" The exile's wail pierced through the muddle in Seto's mind, even as he walked away. "It's really the divine punishment! The White Dragon's divine punishment!"

The guards' threats blurred behind Seto. "How dare you!" "Open your mouth again and we'll cut off your tongue!" "Lock him up!" Seto continued to walk forward without turning back.

Years later, when Seto sat on the throne in his old age, the kingdom at peace, and his sons and daughters grown, he had to wonder if there had not been some truth in the curse that exile had laid on him all those years ago. If that White Dragon had not indeed been brought into his life as a punishment. A light brighter even than the Pharaoh – than Ra. The light he would never be able to touch, but which had touched him so entirely that he would feel her scorch on his lips for the rest of his life – no, for the rest of Time.

Divine Punishment.

…

With a yelp she collapsed on the ground. Her legs just… couldn't hold her anymore. She tried to twitch. Move. Move. A rock bit into her shoulder. She twitched. And that was all. When all else failed her, her legs had always been there to carry her away. She could always run away. But not today. Then again… Why? Why do I still keep running?

One, two, three more rocks cut into her. Ah. What's why. Even if she knew it was for nothing, she would run from pain. Was that normal? For people to run from pain, knowing as they do that it will only lead them into more pain? The rocks. Her head, her back, her leg. Why? Why do they keep doing that? Doing what? Running? Or causing people to run? Which do people do more frequently?

"Get out of this city!" Oh. Why wouldn't her fingers move? "You won't swindle water out of us!" Broken?

…all I wanted was some water. She knew this was desert land. She knew that the Nile had three cycles in each year – one of inundation, one of planting, and one of harvest. It was harvest now, and the waters had receded some. The crocodiles lounged on the banks in thicker droves, and water was a little harder to draw. But she just… she couldn't go into the river herself. She couldn't. Not again. Not that raging torrent. Not again.

"This woman is unmistakably a witch!"

Oh, don't I know it. The rocks pummeled down on her. She hardly felt them.

"You're a bad omen!"

Yet they kept falling. Crushing her. Like the water. Like the torrent.

"…ow…" She twitched again. And then stopped. She stopped herself. I will not run. Anymore. Hadn't she already promised herself that once many, many years ago? For all the good it ever did her. That's not true, she flinched, almost as if she flinched at her own attempt to justify herself, rather than at the rainstorm of rocks. That's not true. Once you did not run away. One time in your life you kept your promise. The time you saved that boy. You saved the boy named…'Seto.'

No, the truth in her soul answered. You killed him. You killed his family. You killed his village. You slaughtered them all in cold blood. As you once did to your own family and your own home.

"That's right!" The mob around her all agreed. "That's right!" They roared on and on and around her like waves. They were a blur around her. The rocks. One hit her along the face. Her eye. Everything blurred.

She whimpered. Why do I still have the strength to whimper? Surly… surly the strength to run away would be the last strength to leave her.

"Look, get the troops over here!" The troops? Was she to be punished? Took them long enough. But no. No, she could not abide pain. Abide pain? I live naught but pain.

…and I deserve it all.

" This woman is a witch!" If everyone said so, then it must be true.

"Her skin is pale!" True. Though once upon a time that was not a strange thing. Not where she had come from.

"And her eyes are light blue!" True again.

"She's a disaster!" All. True.

Her breathing. Why was it so hard to breathe? It was like something was crushing down on her. Like the water… the water was crushing down on her… again. Her eyes went wild, and everything was a sea of dust. What do I do?

"Dun' look in her eyes! She'll curse you!" A boy shoved his playmate back, further into the crowd. He grasped at a scarab amulet around his neck. A token to ward off evil spirits. The child spit into the sand.

No, little boys. I only have one soul to sell…

"That's so scary bro!"

She smiled, and her teeth scraped the dust. Brothers, eh? Siblings. What a… beautiful, terrible bond. She… she had once… had… once…

The water.

She needed to get… get to them. Get to her through the water!

…MOVE!

She convulsed and, as every ounce of flesh bone and blood left searing pain, she raised herself onto her elbows, and surveyed the mob that was her just deserts. "Please…" she reached an arm out. I need to get to them. Her throat was so dry. Her head was spinning. Why had she come here again? She couldn't remember. All she knew was that she needed to get to them! Needed to get to them through the… "…water…" She tried to swallow, and if she'd had any food in her at the time, now she would have given it up. Oh, how the world is spinning!"I promise I'll leave…"

I would never burden you with my curse as well. I would never damn your siblings, your families, your homes… As if she had ever been able to keep a promise in her entire life.

"There!" The water that the man smashed into her face from the confines of a bucket was more terrible, more painful and more horrifying to her senses than any amount of rocks could ever have been. Her mind and body reeled as one. "Happy now? Now get the hell out!"

Back into the dust she collapsed.

…

He had decided to walk for a while. The litter was cramped and irritating and he needed to walk. It made no difference to him if Shada gave him strange glances. The villagers fell upon their knees regardless. They payed homage to the litter in which he was carried and the position that he held; not to the man that he was.

This would be a very twisted city indeed if men, women and children payed homage to one such as me. He smirked.

The first thing he noticed as he turned onto a new street was that everyone in sight did not fall and pay homage in one wave. They were preoccupied, as a pack of unruly hounds that is preoccupied with a plaything will not notice or take heed of its master approaching.

Seto smirked. He did not need Shada's Key to tell that this mob was rife with corrupted degenerates. At an easy pace he began to approach, savoring in their obliviousness to his presence. It was too delightful. And look. Two small ragged children, one wearing a scarab charm. He wondered… how great were the kas in their souls? Could a charm protect from one's own darkness? Seto always laughed when his fellow Guardians exalted the innocents of children. What a funny little lie! Children were vile, greedy little monsters. They cared for nothing and no one. If anything, they were more horrid than adults, some of whom at least had learned to curb their viler natures.

He ought to know. He had been a child once.

One of the two boys, the older one, turned around momentarily, and saw him. A spasm of fear crossed the child's face, as if he knew that Seto could see right into him.

And I can. Seto's dark smile curled into a darker smirk.

The boy grabbed his smaller companion by the arm, whispered something in his ear, and shot from the mob and from Seto as if he had been burned, dragging his little brother after.

Such an intuitive little piece of sh–

The gap that the two boys left in the crowd was a small one. Hardly the breadth of a man. But through that gap Seto saw a streak of white hair tinged red in the dirt of the street.

Roaring filled his ears and clarity broke through his vision at the one glimpse of her.

…again?...

"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?!"

A hush fell upon the crowd as they all, quite shamelessly, turned to look him in the face. No bowing. No falling to their knees. Oh, but he almost preferred it. The feeling of resentment and fear that rippled raw through the street was so much more tangible than all of that kowtowing. And then the silence was broken by a particularly astute individual. He laughed out loud, as if proud of his actions. Proud that the highest men in the realm could see them.

Another cried out, just as astutely, "Hey, it's the priests!"

…My, oh my. Do the crowds go wild. Seto's mouth curled again. Only, rather than his usual smirk, he could feel his own face shaping more into the form of… a snarl. Steadily he approached the crowd, and they did indeed make room for him like pets for their master. Finally, when he got to the mob's heart, he saw her in full. He looked at her for a long moment. There was enough space about her to show that none had dared to get too close. Seto could see nothing of her face. It was entirely covered by a long mat of white hair. She might have been an old woman, but no. Even in her battered condition, even with the blotches of red that mingled into the sand and spread thin by the water she had been drenched in… he could tell she was not old. No. She was younger than even he. The way her sopping garments held to her… She shifted. Her shoulder blades shuddered and moved like two separate beings, grating against each other beneath her already drenched garment. How thin she was.

Her head was hooded by an extension of her dress. She took in a rattled gasp in the silence – alive at least – and coughed violently. She must have breathed in sand. Her entire frame rocked with the force, and she turned her head to the side to cough out the debris. She stopped. Her mouth still quivered. But nothing else. Her body became still, as a mouse became still when it knew it was under the keen eye of a hawk. All was still in the crowd. All was still as the Priest fixed his eyes upon this creature. Nothing moved.

Nothing, but the girl's own eye beneath one half-opened, battered eyelid. With a sudden jolt it turned its vague stare from the dirt – and returned Seto's piercing stare with her own.

He blanched.

To the shock of all present the disgusted look that had been fixed on Priest Seto's face for the last many moments did not remain on the girl, but turned to the crowd about him. "What have you disgraces done to this girl!" Had it been another time, another place, Seto might very well have sneered at such an obvious question. Had it come from someone else. Because of something else. As it was, his anger was beyond his usual cool and supercilious demeanor. It boiled. He felt… livid. "You threw rocks at a defenseless woman?!" He unleashed, just as Shada caught up to him with his own guards. Why? What of it? Even as he shouted Seto's own logic attempted to keep pace with him. Women were beaten, killed and ravaged every day. Why did this one matter? Was it because he actually saw her? Did she remind him of his wasted mother? Yes. Her end, gruesome and terrible as it was, would forever sit heavy in his heart. But no…No. His reaction now was nothing so logical.

"I SHOULD HAVE YOU ALL CASTRATED FOR THIS FELONY!" He was positively spitting at them. His face was red. His body trembled. How dare they! How dare they! And after he had promised to protect her! After he had sworn his sword into her service!

…What?...When? His own thoughts confused him.

"Well…" One man tried to splutter an excuse from the crowd. "See…" faltered another. "No!" Pleaded a third. And then, one further still cried out, "Please, we're sorry!" All fell still, as if even his fellow scum knew the last man had taken the apologies too far. Seto turned his back on them. For the moment.

"Give her water!" he hissed to his guards. He caught the shocked expression on Shada's face. Shocked at the scene before him? Seto doubted it. No. He was shocked at Seto. Even Guardians with their attuned sense of justice rarely reacted with such open temper. They were bred for higher things. They had been bred in nobler atmospheres. Well, not Seto.

"…Yes sir." One of the attendants of the Priests reached for the leather pouch that contained Seto's water. Whenever the priests went out about the city they went with refreshments. Fresh and dried fruits, wine, and of course, water. However, it had only been brought in supplies for the two Priests. So, of course, it was Seto's personal camel skin pouch that the attendant brought forth. …Why was it that Seto took note of that?

All too hesitantly the attendant approached the woman. He was scared. He was like the rest of them. Seto should have him flogged! It was everything Seto could do to not wrench the pouch out of the stupid man's hands, and help her himself. Could the fool not see how desperately she needed it?

The attendant knelt in the ground next to the fallen woman and, pausing for only a moment longer, reached out to try and bring her to a sitting position. Seto did everything he could to control the spasm that came over him as this other man touched her. How he turned her over, all the while keeping her as much at arm's length as he could. How her head rolled back and lolled on his shoulder and how he, insolent idiot that he was, had the gall to flinch away.

…How… how her hood fell back, and fully exposed the mane of long white hair that now pooled from her head to the sand. How they all gasped. Those fools! And how Seto inhaled sharply at the sight of that pale arching neck, so slender, so beautiful.

He blinked in irritation. Where did such thoughts come from?

As he watched, Seto observed with well contained shock how… how severed this girl really was, even from herself. When the attendant tried to bring her to a sitting position by supporting her back, her entire body, as a body should, did not come up with his supporting arm. Rather, neither shoulder seemed to be connected to the other. Nor either connected to her head. It took a full minute for the man to prop her up completely, and keep her so. Watched closely by Seto's piercing gaze, the attendant lifted the camel pouch to her lips – my camel pouch – and, after a moment of the water trickling down the side of her mouth, Seto saw her throat begin to work, and she swallowed, and again, and again, and coughed.

The attendant pulled the pouch away from her mouth so that she might cough freely. Her head lolled back onto his shoulder, her eyes fluttered open for a moment and, so quietly Seto almost missed it, she whispered, "…Thank you…so much…" The sound of a reed pipe. Her eyes slipped closed, and she fell limp once more.

Seto blinked at the girl. She had an accent. Not a strong one, but it was there. And she was polite. Curious. And then… jealousy pricked him. To whom had she given her thanks? Surly not to the ingrate who had given her water against his better judgment. Surely it had been to him, Seto! Surly she had seen him in those few moments of revival!

The attendant, however, had clearly thought the thank you had been directed at himself. Seto watched with immediate annoyance at the way the man's features softened toward the girl in his arms. "Sir, she's very weak," he offered out loud. How strange, that with one phrase of gratitude this girl had turned the man's utter fear… to genuine concern.

Once more Seto's face curled into a snarl at this… this fickle man. "Then make sure to be particularly careful with her." What was he doing? Why was he reacting like this? It was mad.

"What's wrong, Seto?" Shada had stepped up beside him, placed a hand on his shoulder, and whispered urgently his concern.

Seto slowly turned his eyes upon his fellow Guardian. His gaze was scathing. Take a good look at the scene played out before you. If you still see nothing wrong, let me know, and I might just castrate you too.

He may very well have said as much, had not Shada flinched away from him, as if he had been scorched. "What this?!" There was an actual look of alarm on his face, and he pulled forth this Millennium Key, even as he stumbled back.

"What's wrong, Shada?" Seto now echoed back at his fellow Guardian, only he made no pretense at concern. His voice was raw with excitement. Had Shada picked up the power of a criminal ka from among the crowd? No. No… he had raised the key… toward the girl.

"This woman's ka…" Shada gasped, the Millennium Item now clearly vibrating in his hand. "I can't measure it! It's too powerful!"

What!?

"I can see– I can see the ka…. Inside her heart…" The Millennium Key was shaking so violently in his grasp that Seto was actually worried Shada would drop the thing. "It has tremendous power hidden deep inside her! It's… it's a white dragon!"

Somewhere, something inside of Seto…broke. Or…was it reset? …A white dragon? Seto blinked, and stared mutely ahead, not looking at Shada. Not looking at the girl. His glazed stare only tore away when, rather than letting the Key fall from his hands, Shada screamed and fell to his knees, himself overpowered by the very presence, dormant though it seemed to be, of the girl's ka.

"Shada!" Seto blanched. His fellow had sooner collapsed than relinquished his Millennium Item. Perhaps there were some Guardian instinct in him yet.

"To think that there was someone… with such a latent ka!" Shada panted, clutching at his knees with his shaking hands. Sweat was pooling down the sides of his head, and his eyes were fixed on the girl. …The girl.

"What?" Seto asked, slightly dazed now. In this woman, a powerful ka? He too now turned to look at her. The still damp clothing. The arching, alabaster throat. That cascading mane of white hair. Those lips, gently parted, even now as she took in one after another ragged breath – clinging to life. So weak. So… What were these thoughts!? Seto sneered, this time at himself.

So awesome a ka… If I can extract her ka it'd be possible to increase my authoritative power over the kingdom. Then he would be able to do what must be done, with no interference from fools like Shada. More power. He needed to have more power if he was to protect this country… and its Ra. Its Sun. Its Pharaoh.

"Take this woman at once! Be sure that she has food and water available! That's an order!" He barked, his mind made up. Why not? He had spilled innocent blood before. This would be no different. It would always be spilt. Whether or not he existed. If anything, he would be doing this poor wretch of a girl a favor. He would give her a quick end.

"Yes sir!" saluted one of his guards. "Shall we put her in a prison cell with the others?"

For some reason he could not explain, the feelings from mere moments before flooded back, beyond anything he could control rationally. The very thought of her being alone with all those criminals … the thought alone made his blood boil. Why? "…No," he said more forcibly than perhaps he should have, "give her a room in the palace, so that she can get plenty of rest." …After all, I don't want her damaged. And I did promise a quick end.

He looked about himself. Many of the culprits of the beating had made a quiet escape of the crowd. But the same token, many curious onlookers had joined it. It was time to end this little melodrama. Seto turned to his soldiers with his old smirk. Time for a little game of cat and mouse. "Search for more people with evil kas! And let all those who are present here be imprisoned!" With a multitude of screaming and shoving, the mob dissipated into all directions, the Royal Guard at their heels. Well, that took care of that.

The street became deserted but for Seto, Shada, who was still on his knees, a handful of the Priests' attendants, and the girl.

It did not take the men long to regroup, but even so Seto began to regret sending them out on wild goose chases to begin with. He no longer cared for the petty criminals they brought him. He had his prize. Finally, when all his men had reassembled, he addressed them again. "No one is to speak of this to the Pharaoh! We do not have the luxury to be as lenient as we were in the past!" He did not want the Pharaoh knowing about her. Did not want anyone to see her blue eyes and fair skin. She was his. Always his.

…What?

He ignored the few sidelong glances his guards exchanged. Ignored Shada, who was only now clambering back to his feet, and who himself gave him a sharp look. "Shada, let's return to the Palace." Without another word, Seto swept onward, ignoring the litter, his fellow Guardian, his men, and the fact that, out of the corner of his eye he could see as the attendant who had given her water now hauled the girl up. And the way he wrapped an arm around her waist for support! Seto's knuckled turned white as his grip on the Millennium Rod tightened.

Behind him he could hear the Royal Caller, "The Great Priests are returning to the Palace!"

He could also hear as one of the remaining soldiers called back, "We will stay here and guard the city!"

He could hear it all, but he listened to none of it. His ears and mind were full of a voice as gentle as a reed-pipe's tune. "Thank you… so much…"

…

His steps echoed loudly on the stone floor. He had said to give her a private room in the palace. However, there were cells with bars in the Palace as well. Seto doubted that the Pharaoh knew as much. Nor would he ever have to.

The fire from the torchlight crackled. His footsteps echoed on the stone. He turned a corner. There, two guards. Between them… a grated door. Seto squared his shoulders.

"What is the woman's condition?" he asked, coming to stand between the two men in front of the caged door.

"Lord Seto," the two guards bowed while one answered for both. They were very large, muscular men. It almost seemed ludicrous to place such a guard on the girl. Almost– had Seto not himself witness Shada collapse to the ground at being in her very presence. While she was yet unconscious. "She is still asleep. The doctor says she will recover with rest." From such hardship to recover with simply rest? Seto peered through the darkness at her. True, that all of her wounds seemed to have been tended. But no medicine? No constant application of ointments? Had he not known the physicians to be unwaveringly loyal to the Pharaoh and his house, he would have thought them liars. But they would not lie to a Priest. She must be a strong girl, despite her appearance.

For a moment, a long moment, he peered at her through those bars. Even from here her hair was stark in the darkness. For a moment, as for so many moments before since he had laid eyes on this strange girl only that morning, he wondered why the sight of her… disturbed him so? These bars. He glanced at them briefly. He somehow felt that… that he should be the one removing them, not grating her door with them. He remembered… Seto shook his head. As he had before, whenever he strained his memory so, all that came to flash before his eyes was his mother… and the fire. He needed no such thoughts now. He had never had scruples before on such missions. This would be no different. "Hand me a torch. Unlock the door."

The door creaked as it opened. He entered with a burning touch and, before coming any closer to the sleeping occupant of the single cot across the room, he kindled the one torch in the room. He then slid the handle of the one he was carrying into an empty holster on the wall. Seto then stood there, for a time, his fingers still on the torch. Finally, he let his hand drop, and turned.

The fires crackled about them. His steps once more echoed on the stone floor. He stood over her. A part of her face had swollen from the beating. His throat tightened. Her body, even the little of it he could see beneath the blanket that now covered her, was completely bandaged. And what was not covered by bandages was visibly bruised. How often had she undergone such treatment? Surly, with her skin and coloring this could be no new occurrence. Not among the honorable people of Egypt. Seto knew their ranks all too well.

Where had she come from? He stared at her in almost inescapable fascination. Lady of the White Dragon… he thought, knowing no other name by which to address her, even in his own thoughts. How much pain must color your blue eyes before the dragon is released to the heavens?

He had to harden his resolve. He clenched his fists, even as he gazed upon her beaten form in the firelight. I will make the White Dragon my servant, no matter what… even if I must sacrifice the life of its wielder… He would let no one stand in his way. And the feelings this girl seemed to bring forth in him… The sooner she was gone, the better. He turned to extinguish the torches. Why had he bothered lighting them to begin with?

"…Seto…"

The torch Seto had lifted from its holster clattered to the ground. He felt his world spin. He teetered, and only just managed to throw out his arm before he knocked against the wall. He stared down that the torch at his feet as it spluttered, wafted heat up into his face, and then went out. His mouth was very dry.

How did she…? Don't be a fool! There could be any number of ways! She might have heard Shada addressing you. She… she might have heard one of the guards. She… Seto turned. She was asleep. Had she, for a moment, awoken just then? Or had… had his name been spoken in her sleep?

Again he approached her, though much more unsteadily than before. And this time he came closer still. He chanced a furtive glance at the door. Idiot. What had he to fear? As if the guards had any say or importance in this matter. The girl was his, after all. His. Priest Seto's. This woman was his to do with as he pleased. And no one would or could begrudge him. Again his attention returned to… her. Hesitantly he leaned forward and propped his arms on either side of her head, looming over her. And stared. White hair… blue eyes… Seto swallowed. This feeling. Was he ill? No, my heart has begun…to stir… He asked himself then what he already knew. Do I know this woman?

The fire. The blistering sand beneath his fingers. The screams of slave traders and townspeople alike. The torrent of burning air mixed in with the ash. But wait…why had there been slave traders there? The wave of unendurable heat. "MAMA!" The roar. The Dragon.

The Girl.

Slowly, shakily, controlling every joint in his body lest it just go loose now, he set himself on the ground by her bed. If he had not, he would surely have collapsed on top of her. Instead, he stared blankly at nothing, one hand clamped over his mouth, his eyes wide, fighting back the impulse to be sick as the long suppressed memories of five years past crashed upon him afresh.

It had all been for her. He had lost everything that night… for this… this very girl. He chanced a glance at her. Whatever vague emotions he had been attempting to stifle earlier were now far beyond his control or comprehension. All he could do was sit shaking on the stone floor of her cell. What could he feel? Anger? But for this girl, his mother might still be alive, along with the score of other people of his village. Gratitude? But for this girl, he would not have survived the wrath of the slavers. Joy? But for this girl… this girl, who had been so precious to him upon first sight, when he was still young and new to this world…. He had long since lost the ability to so quickly see through truths and lies. She… she was a relic of a time before he had lost… everything. He had believed in her. In one night, for one night, he had given her his trust, his aid, his…affection. That capacity to recognize and appreciate things for what they were, Seto had lost. Yet she… she was still here.

That's right… this woman… is from then… Swallowing did nothing for his parched throat. …And she had whispered his name. She remembered his name. She is from then… as is the white dragon. With a trembling hand, he reached out and touched her unbruised cheek. He clumsily scrambled to his knees for a better look at her, cupping his hand to her face with more ease. Gently, he turned her face more towards his. Her eyelids fluttered, but did not part. Her eyelashes were as white as her hair. What a curiosity. What a beautiful curiosity. She knew his name. Had recognized him after all these years. Yet he still did not know her name.

He could have laughed then. After all this, he still did not know what to call this apparition! His laughter caught in his breath.

With a soft sigh, she pressed her face more firmly into his hand. Seto was certain his heart would burst from his chest. One white strand of hair fell from behind her ear to strewn across her face. Almost without thought Seto tucked it behind her ear. Again, it took its unruly course. Seto… almost smiled.

And then frowned. He looked about the chamber. At the torches, one lit and one smoldering. At the stone cell, bereft of all but this cot. At the bars. The guards. Once he had been her liberator.

Now he had become her captor.

By the mercy of Ra, Lady of the White Dragon… he thought, looking back to her sleeping face. What have I done in bringing you here?

Elsewhere in Palace compound an unearthly scream wrenched through the air, as the Thief King Bakura, having circumnavigated all of the defenses, took vengeance on his old acquaintance and Seto's mentor – High Priest Akhenaden.