Sorry for such a long delay. I thought I'd never get back into fanfic writing. A lot of things have changed, and for a while I had nothing to give these fics. But a chance encounter with an old outline, and a group of friends I haven't talked to for a while have made me think that maybe I can still do this. I'm gonna try anyway. I'm in desperate need of a beta reader, so I'm flying solo for now. Here goes nothing, right?

~ o ~ O ~ o ~

"Get up you clumsy freak!"

Yugi shifted amidst the shards of pottery lying scattered on the floor. And then he hissed as a sliver embedded itself in his skin. A hand crashed into the side of his face, knocking him back into the mess he had made, and he curled in on himself to escape more punishment, only to find himself ripped from his position by a hand wound tightly in his hair. Tears sprang to his eyes and he batted at his attacker in an attempt to dislodge his grip.

"You will have this cleaned up by the time I return or I will have you lashed for it."

The old man who had been overseeing Yugi's training stomped away, leaving him a moment of peace – the bar on the door sliding into place with an audible thump. Trying valiantly not to cry, Yugi picked himself up, pulled the splinter from his finger, and began to shift the shards into a pile. Why, oh why did he get stuck with that same old goat that had dragged him out of the healing ward – he had realized that earlier in the morning while his thoughts were wandering, that the place he had woken up in was the healing ward.

The old man didn't say a word to him when he woke him– merely kicked him in the leg, and then when Yugi sat up he pulled him from the room with an iron grip on his arm. He studied his arm for a moment. Yes, there was a bruise forming in the shape of gnarled, old fingers. What did this man have against him anyways? He didn't even know the guy, had never met him before yesterday.

Yugi's stomach growled, and he nearly sobbed in frustration. He had been allowed no food, not a break, not even a glass of water during the hours that he had been shut up in this room with the old man – it was nearly dark now. And he had been busy the entire time. At first the old man had muttered something about menial labor cleansing the soul, and so he had been made to straighten this entire cavernous room with its scrolls and pottery and various scattered statuary.

And then the man started muttering about humility being good for the spirit. Where upon he had been forced to kneel in the corner with a water-weighted pot on his head and two perched on top of his hands. That task had been his downfall. And it almost seemed to him that the old man was waiting for him to screw it up. Never one to disappoint, Yugi only held the pose for a few minutes before he dropped to the ground, all three pots shattering upon impact.

Absently shifting the rest of the mess into one pile Yugi glanced around the room for a place to dispose of the waste. And promptly gave himself a mental kick. Where – when – he was now they would not have invented such a thing as a garbage can. What now, he wondered as he heard the bar scraping against the door.

And then the old man was back, strap in hand, and Yugi had no more time to think at all. He backed up against the wall as the man swung his leather strap, the blows landing with unerring accuracy to whichever part of his body that he was unable to protect. Insults flew with the blows and after a while Yugi dropped to the floor, unable to handle either form of abuse any longer.

"Get up, you loathsome creature." The man gripped his arm hard enough to break it.

And once again Yugi was propelled through the corridors until he reached the room containing his cage. The old man threw him inside without a word – where he dropped to the floor – and knotted the leather thong around the bars. Only once he was assured that Yugi would be unable to get out did the man lean back to study him down the length of his nose.

"You will do better on the morrow, and you will be purified by within a sennight. This is my duty, no matter how loathsome I find it." The old man sneered. "But should you happen to die along the way, I would not find fault with that either."

And then he stalked away, leaving Yugi to drag his sore body over to the mat of straw. He hissed as he examined the welts that covered him from head to toe, breaking out into tears.

"Oh Ryou…why didn't I follow my heart…" He hiccupped. "Why am I here…I'm gonna die anyways…why couldn't I have made the choice on how…?"

And he dissolved into sobs that wracked his body as the remaining day fell to night. It was too much. He was no good to anyone. Not at home, not here. Why was he still allowed to continue existing? Did god have no mercy?

A hissed breath brought him out of his melancholy and he jerked back from the bars of his prison.

"Who has touched you in such a way?"

Yugi never thought he'd be so happy to hear a voice until he heard those words spoken by the stranger that he had met the night before. Wearily he pulled himself out of the ball he had curled into and faced the hooded man who had given him food and warmth the night before.

"It's nothing…I'm okay." He replied with a confidence he didn't feel.

The robed man seemed to look him over carefully, even coming into the light to check the extent of his injuries – not that Yugi could see anything from the way his hood draped over his features. And then he laid down another handkerchief filled with food so that Yugi could reach it. "I shall return in a moment, but for now I suggest you eat and conserve your strength."

And with that he silently faded back into the shadows. Not a footstep or a whisper of fabric was heard to give him a clue as to where his savior had gone. Mouth already watering from the aromas that the fabric refused to contain Yugi dug into his meal – taking care not to aggravate his injuries – and found that once again it just as good as it smelled.

He stopped chewing for a moment to ponder over the lavishness of his fare. Supposedly only the rich ate well in this time period. Or maybe he was wrong about the time period. He had never heard of a Pharaoh Atemu before. Akhnumkhanen – yes, he had heard of him. But he had thought that the line died out with him. And he had done so much research on that time period, searching for the lost Pharaoh, searching for a legend. Could he have been wrong?

Or maybe he was thinking of another line entirely. He stared at the block of cheese in his hand, and then at the welts that covered his arms. Did it really matter? He was where he was, and until he figured out a way to get home – or he died – then he was stuck wherever it was that he was. Which was it going to be though?

By the time he had bolted down half of the food the robed stranger had returned, just as silently as he had left. And he was holding out two items in his hands. A band of gold flashed in the torchlight as Yugi reached out to take the first item, its presence making him distinctly uneasy. Another image of the dream man with the crown (and the skirt) flashed through his mind. Yugi chewed on his lip. Was he even real? And if he was, who was he?

"This is special oil made by the priestesses of Bast. It will help with the pain as it aids in healing." He explained. "Rub it into the welts. But be gentle unless you wish for more pain."

Yugi nodded as he pulled the stopper on the vial. "Thank you…"

"It is my pleasure." And he held out the other hand. "I thought you could do with a finer drink than what you have been supplied with."

Yugi's eyes widened and he reached out to take the wineskin from his hand and set it carefully aside. "You didn't have to do this. Thank you again."

The man sighed as he turned to go. "It is my fault that you are in this situation, so therefore you are my responsibility."

"No, wait, don't go yet." He pleaded. "Stay and share this with me, please."

And again the stranger seemed to consider his offer for a moment before he slipped into the shadows beside his cage. "Very well then, thank you. I shall stay but for a moment. You need your rest."

As soon as the stranger made himself comfortable Yugi slid the handkerchief containing half of the food out between the bars of his cell. He was exhausted and in pain, but he would be damned if he passed up a chance to learn anything about his circumstances from the only party willing to speak kindly to him. He popped the last morsel of bread into his mouth, chewing as he applied a generous helping of the oil to his wounds.

And while he worked the stranger busied himself with taking a small portion of bread and a handful of nuts, eating silently as he watched.

"Who are you?" Yugi asked as he put the stopper back in the vial.

The stranger almost choked on his food, taking a moment to clear his throat before answering. "It is of no consequence, little one. I am merely a palace employee who has an interest in your welfare."

"An employee?" Yugi blinked. "Of who? Who do you work for?"

"Pr-aA, as do we all."

"But why am I here?"

This question seemed to agitate his savior, as he shifted about. "You…are here due to my oversight. And that has brought you to the attention of a person who wishes the throne for himself…at least I think that is his problem." The last was spoken softly, as though the stranger were speaking to himself.

"Then, if that's a problem, why can't you just let me go? Just open the door and no one would ever know it was you."

"I wish it were that simple." The stranger replied. "But the ceremony has been set for a sennight from now, and were you to be missing it would be pr-aA who would take your place…if only…"

"If only what?" Yugi pressed when the man became silent again. "And what do you mean pr-aA would take my place? Isn't he the supreme ruler?"

The man rose, pacing the shadows. "Things are not so…ah, simple, little one. Pr-aA has not yet had his coming of age ritual. And so therefore the throne is shared between two. Pr-aA, and his uncle Akhenaten. You are the key to that ritual…and I am too craven to –"

"To what?" Yugi prompted when he fell silent again. "Who are you?"

Before he could open his mouth to question the man again he appeared right before him, grasping his hand tightly. 'Listen well, little one. I am a close confidant of Pr-aA Atemu. It is his wish that you do what you're told for the moment, keep your eyes open and your mouth shut until…we can devise a way out of this. He does not wish for you to fall prey to this ritual any more than he desires to be a part of its cruelty. I shall remedy this, but you must do as you are told until such a time. Do you understand?"

Yugi swallowed thickly at the intensity of his voice and the grip on his hand. "Yes, I –"

"Good, I must be off before anyone realizes that I am missing."

"Wait!"

But it was no use, the man had already disappeared into the shadows and Yugi was certain that he wouldn't come back even if he called. "Thank you…for the cloak and the food…and your company." He murmured to the darkness.

And then he pulled the cloak out from where he had stuffed it and wrapped it around his body. Even though it aggravated his welts he burrowed down into it and fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

~ o ~ O ~ o ~

The next day was much the same for Yugi, as he found himself back in the company of this old man he was coming to despise. But this time he had other matters on his mind, going about the same duties as he did the day before without care to how they were done. He had another mystery to solve. One that wouldn't let go of him no matter how many times the old man lashed out with his strap.

On the fourth time it sailed in his direction Yugi hissed and reminded himself to keep his mind on his tasks, but it refused to stay there – wanting to wander back to his late night visitor. The stranger had intimated that he knew the Pharaoh well, and that he knew what this ritual was that Yugi was being trained for. But how? Who was he? He had to be someone pretty important to have that sort of information. But if he was that important why would he pay attention to a nobody like him? What was going on around here? And why the urgency in his words?

All throughout the corridors Yugi had glanced around, searching for a glimpse of the person who was giving him food, and bits and pieces of information. But other than the gold bands that adorned the stranger's wrists and ankles Yugi had no earthly idea of who he was looking for. And he had seen plenty of people in the palace who wore ornaments like those of his late night visitor.

Another snap of leather and Yugi bit his tongue against the urge to cry out, this time rubbing his thigh – a discreet glare sent in the old man's direction.

"You would do well to remember your lessons of yesterday. However, pain is good for the mind. It cleanses the unpure thoughts." The old man snarled at him, flicking his weapon again. "You are worthless, a useless piece of filth. But no matter, it is my duty to have you ready for your master, and I shall do my duty. Pity that His Majesty refuses to allow the full ritual to be completed…but this is his choice. A return to the old ways, he says. Pfft, coward I say."

I hate you, Yugi thought as he picked up the scroll he had dropped, and I don't think I'm the only one who does. The old man had gone back to mumbling again, something about being tested by the fires, and brandings. That really didn't sound good. He tried to listen in, but the old man's mutterings were nearly incoherent, fanatic. As soon as he got back to his cage he was going to drop to his knees and give a prayer of thanks for the person who was thwarting the old man's plans for him. He swore he would.

He set the scroll in its cubby and went about his business of finishing the tasks. No sooner was he done and the old man had him kneeling in the corner again, the pottery feeling even heavier than the day before. This time Yugi was determined to outlast the old man, and he knelt there, gritting his teeth, trying to think of anything to keep from feeling the pain in his arms, the extra weight on his neck.

Small wonder that his thoughts wandered back to his late night visitor. First question – other than who he was – was why was he being so nice? No one was ever nice without an ulterior motive. At least that had been his opinion of people since his parents died. So then, what was his motive? Did it have anything to do with the power struggle between a young Pharaoh and this old man? Yugi would have bet his life on it.

And another question soon came on that one's heels – how could he remove himself from the middle of this power struggle? Akhenaten was no more than a fleeting figure in history – if this was the same Akhenaten who was worth no more than a paragraph in his books? And if it was, and Aknumkhanun was the same Pharaoh that he'd done studies on, then who was Atemu? The line he was familiar with died with Aknumkhanun, he could have sworn it did. But if it did, then who was Atemu…? Did he die before becoming Pharaoh? Or was he –

The door creaked open, catching Yugi's attention, and the woman whom he had presumed to watch over him during his unconsciousness peered into the room. She glanced at him, blinked and turned a glare towards the only other person present, flames seeming to shoot from her eyes with the intensity of her hatred.

"What do you mean by interrupting this ritual?!" The old man snarled. "Women should not even have a place in the priesthood, let alone be able to wander the corridors unsupervised. You are not wanted here."

A rather unpleasant expression settled over the young woman's face. "That is an opinion you'd do well to keep to yourself, Hm-Ntr Akhenaten. As for why I am here…I was sent to give you notice that you are to appear in the throne room as soon as you are able. Pr-aA wishes a word."

The old man turned to study the scenery outside the uncovered window, mumbling to himself again. And for a moment Yugi thought he would ignore the order. He studied the odd pair, his glance shooting back to the familiar woman in the hand-dyed dress. He caught her wink, as she made an obscure motion with her hand, her mouth moving silently. And the pottery in his hands, as well as on his head seemed to become almost weightless.

He glanced at the pieces to see if he had accidentally dropped them without knowing it, but they were still in his hands – right where they had been when the old man stuck him in this corner. He glanced back toward the woman, to see her put a finger to her lips with a grin. What had she done? Did he…did he have another ally? Was this the message she was trying to convey?

The old man turned back to them just as she turned to face him, oblivious to all that had passed between the two of them. "Fine, just let me return this to its place." He grumbled, stalking across the room to snatch Yugi from his corner, breaking the pottery in his haste and ignoring the mess. "We'll move on to the rest of the tasks tomorrow, slave."

And once again Yugi was being driven down the corridor towards his isolated cell. But this time he didn't feel so alone. There was a friendly face amongst all the hatred, perhaps even two of them. The old man's vicious muttering didn't even sink in as he was pulled along the countless halls and many steps that made up the path to his prison. One more time he was tossed carelessly to the floor amidst the straw and dirt, the bands knotted and tightened against his hope of escape.

But at least the old man was gonna leave him alone for now. Yugi didn't know what the man's problem was, and at about this point he really didn't want to know. He was developing a healthy dislike for his scowling figure. The door was slammed shut on him, but as it shut he heard something rustling in the dark corner of the room.

"Who's there?" He asked, thinking that his late night visitor might have made an early appearance.

"Hello, young one." Isis murmured as she stepped out of the shadowed corner. At the startled look in his eyes she gave a smile. "I took a little known short cut to get here before Akhenaten."

Yugi settled down into the corner of his cage as she appeared, a little more at ease with this familiar figure, even if he didn't know her personally. She drew up next to him and began to look him over, paying special attention to the still-visible welts covering his body.

"My name is Isis." She explained. "I have been sent to assess your condition."

"By who?"

"A close friend of mine is interested in your welfare."

Yugi made a noncommittal noise at her evasive reply, offering his arms for her perusal. She ran a hand softly over the welts, pulling back at his hiss of discomfort, to continue with her eyes. Once finished she gave a nod and pulled a vial out of the folds in her dress.

"This will alleviate your pain. You are to drink half of this – no more. Finish the rest of it on the morrow. There should be no more need of it after that. Be aware, though, this is potent, and may have the added effect of putting you to sleep."

Yugi nodded as he took the vial. "I understand. Can I ask you a question?"

A smile of infinite patience crossed her face. "You may ask as many questions as you like, young one. But might I ask your name first?"

"My name's Yugi." He replied.

He no sooner finished his question than her finger appeared at his lips. "First rule to remember, Yugi, is never to supply a stranger with your true name. To give that treasured secret up is to give such a person power over your being, physical and spiritual."

He had thought she was finished, and opened his mouth to ask her another question, when she spoke up again. "For the record, Yugi, my true name is Isis."

The smile on her features found an answering one tugging at his lips as she voiced this outrage. It was almost too much. That this young woman who lived in a period where it was thought that to give your true name out was to invite mayhem and catastrophe into your life had just given him her true name at the same time as she cautioned him not to do the same was too much. His eyes misted up at her offer of friendship.

"Thank you." He whispered.

She reached out to clasp his hand, the seriousness of her subject conveyed in her eyes. "Your presence I have long awaited, Yugi. I can promise you this – your life will be hard, and at times you will wish to die, to cease to exist, so great is the sacrifice that will be asked of you. But if you should persist in your efforts I can promise you that, after all is said and done, you shall have everything that your heart desires. Should you make it through your trials your life shall become that of your dreams, and you shall want for nothing."

Yugi gaped. Before he could gather his wits about him to ask about this prophesy she released his hand, and disappeared back into the shadowed corner. And he was alone again, and she hadn't even let him ask what he had wanted to. Having nothing else to do he opened the vial that she had given him and downed half of its contents. The mixture was a little chalky but other than that he had no complaints. It wasn't long before his eyelids began to droop, and he fell back into that same dreamless state as the night before.

~ o ~ O ~ o ~

Isis stalked back toward her apartments, her fists clenched against the sides of her legs. To say that she was furious would be an understatement. And the full extent of her fury was directed toward Atemu's uncle, Akhenaten. Halfway through the courtyard she slowed her step until she came to a complete standstill, closing her eyes in an attempt to drown out her rage, disregarding the people flowing ceaselessly around her.

How dare Akhenaten defile even the smallest part of her son's soul? It had taken that tiny sliver so long to grow into an independent being viable in such a cold world, and so far as she could tell that piece that had become Yugi was still terribly vulnerable to its cruelties, despite the strength hidden within. He needed nurturing, not torture. But there was nothing she could do to change the future any more. It was already being rewritten with his presence here in the past.

"Hello there, pretty lady."

She let her breath out in a rush, opening her eyes to take in her beloved's features. "O-Shadi, I did not expect to see you here. How goes it?"

Shadi shrugged. "It goes, that is all I can say for the situation right now. What of your end? Have you spoken with him?"

She motioned for him to step in beside her as she set off again for her apartments, pushing around or through the people milling around the pavilion. "He shall do what is right when the time comes. I am certain of it."

"Who is this that you speak of?"

Isis and Shadi whirled around at the sound of the familiar voice, Isis's eyes widening in surprise. He had come up on them so silently. She should have noticed him in the scant late afternoon crowd. Her heart melted when she met his gaze, if only she could steal both him and the younger version hidden away before their fates came to pass.

"Pr-aA, I did not see you there." She acknowledged. "You have finished the interview with Akhenaten?"

Atemu nodded. "I am putting my foot down in regards to the boy. He is my responsibility, not Akhenaten's…Never Akhenaten's."

Shadi gave Isis's shoulder a squeeze. "I shall talk to you later, then."

She squeezed his hand, motioning Atemu to follow her with the other. And then she made her way to the edge of the pavilion. She couldn't help but think that he should have been a little better guarded with all of the recent unrest – especially after Set's (or Bakura was his chosen name in this life) newest escapade. But she knew him well enough to know that he would shirk his guards' presence whenever he could sneak away. Some things never changed.

At the edge of the pavilion she chose a seat on one of the benches, patting the seat next to her. Atemu sat down, his elbows on his knees, head down, and his hands clasped tightly together. Isis bit her lip to keep from reaching out to ruffle his hair, as she so often used to do when they were in the realm of the gods. It was so hard to quell this motherly impulse in his presence some times.

"Speak." She urged.

"I should be saying thus to you." Atemu returned. "You were speaking of the boy, were you not – when I came upon you and Shadi?"

Isis sighed. "Yes, his wellbeing is a matter of some importance, but I can truly tell you no more than that for I do not know why."

"You have seen him then?"

"Yes, as you requested I have left him with a small potion to relieve his pain and lessen his injuries." She replied.

Atemu fidgeted, his gaze directed across the courtyard at nothing in particular. It seemed to her as if he held the world on his shoulders in that moment. And she wished she could help him.

"Pr-aA, you cannot hold this within yourself. It would only serve to trouble you further. You would rather have washed your hands of the situation?"

Atemu reared back, his gaze horrified as it shot toward hers. "Good gods, no! Had I left the decisions up to Akhenaten this poor boy would not only bear the humiliation of his station but he would be branded, castrated, defiled and utterly broken before I touched him." At her level gaze he continued. "I should never have brought him home. If I had been thinking, I would not have. It is my fault that his is in this position."

"But you could not leave him there to perish either." She reasoned.

"No, but I have been able to veto Akhenaten's insistence on the ritual simply by never favoring one selection over another, or finding something not to my liking in his choices. But now that I have made the selection simply by returning with this boy to the palace I cannot foresee a way out of this. This is my fault."

Isis had reached out to touch him during his confession, sensing his need to be comforted, but she returned her hand to her side as she realized that she would not be able to explain her actions to his satisfaction. But it had been so long since she had seen him whole and in one piece. And after this fiasco was ended she never would again. Not that she didn't love the young one with all of her heart, it just wasn't the same.

"So then tell me why you are so opposed to this ritual. Does it have to do with your guest? Or is there another reason? No other pr-aA in history has objected to what they consider their due. In fact, most of your ancestors looked forward to that ritual from the time they were out of swaddling."

His fists clenched tightly Atemu looked straight into her eyes. "And you know that I was not raised to be pr-aA until well after my swaddling years were but a memory, Isis. I have seen the depths of depravity to which human beings will sink. I have witnessed the worst of our nature, and simply wish not to be a part of it. I am not that person."

"Who was it?" She asked without thinking that he would answer.

Atemu shifted for a moment, and then rose from his perch to plant his hands on one of the decorative pots on the ledge, his gaze far away. "She was my mother." He shook his head. "I do not wish to remember, but I cannot seem to forget."

At the word mother Isis started. And she could not contain her curiosity for this part of Atemu's life that she was not included. "What was she like?"

At first she thought perhaps she crossed a line with her questions, but the tension that had built up in Atemu's form during the course of their conversation seemed to flow away, as though he needed to speak of it just as much as she wanted to hear.

"She was beautiful…quiet. She seemed so delicate, and yet held this core of strength that most men I know cannot match. She was a victim of this ritual, a toy for my father to throw away at will, a toy for men of the village to fight over, and to abuse when they found her alone. The blood of the last man who tried still stains my hands."

Her hand flew to her mouth as he confessed to a killing that she had had the misfortune to witness through the viewing pool. She had forgotten about that. It had been so long ago; she hadn't been around this time to witness, but she had thought to never forget the sight of her young, human-born son with that bloody knife clenched in both hands – the look of rage on his face making her want to call upon Re, and demand that he demolish the entire village.

Atemu, unaware of her thoughts, continued on in her silence. "I did not know that she had been brought to my father for the ritual. Not until later…but that explained…it explained a lot."

And then he turned to Isis. "I do not wish to be a part of this. I will sentence criminals to death, lay waste to Khemet's enemies as is needed, but I shall not cause harm to befall an innocent. Not like this."

It's too late for that, she thought. She raised a hand up to him, but he shrugged her off, saying that it was time for him to return to the palace. And he set off before she could say a word to change his mind. Her shoulders slumped, and she rose from the bench, making her way slowly toward her apartments off the corner of the pavilion, her thoughts centered on his dilemma.

~ o ~ O ~ o ~