Okay, still struggling along. It'd help if people would quit dying on me. This chap is dedicated to Carrie, Al, and Dustin. I'll miss you guys.

Updates will be slow for a while. Enjoy.

~ o ~ O ~ o ~

"Come, little one, you should eat something."

Yugi shrugged the hand off, only for it to return to his shoulder, shaking him persistently. Half awake, he groped for a reason that someone would want to deprive him of his sleep, his mind supplying him with a scene from long ago, and he replied to the person whom he thought unfairly attempting to wake him up.

A deep chuckle was the response. "I am not your father, little one. Come, it grows late and you have yet to eat on this rise."

Halfway through the comment Yugi's brain kicked into gear, realizing that there was a different pattern to this person's speech. His eyes shot open and he blinked at his late night visitor. And then he blinked again. For a moment he could have sworn he was back at home with his parents, refusing to get up early on the morning of their expedition.

Yugi yawned and stretched, trying to remember why this should be a painful endeavor as he cleared the rest of the cobwebs from his mind. And then his gaze shot down towards his arms, realizing that the red welts had all but disappeared. He rotated his arm, to be sure, and found no welts on the underside either. Still confused he looked down at his legs, and sure enough the welts were gone there too. He almost had the urge to lift the scrap of cloth he'd been given to check the welts there as well, but then he remembered his visitor. His face heated up.

"Sorry." He mumbled.

A rich chuckle was the reply. "So it seems that Isis has come to visit you. I do wish I could convince her to teach her knowledge of potions to an apprentice, but so far she has been unwilling to allow this."

Yugi sat up, staring into the recesses of his visitor's covering. "You were the one who asked her to see me, weren't you?"

Another parcel of food was held out to his cage. "Yes, it was I. And I see you are feeling better this evening for it."

"Yes, thank you." Yugi replied, taking the food from his hand. "Really, for everything, thank you. Can you stay for a while tonight?"

The stranger situated his robes around him and sat down gracefully on his side of the bars, producing another skin of wine from somewhere within his robes. To Yugi it was as if he had only been waiting for permission instead of running off like he had done the past couple of times. This was a good sign. It meant that the man was open to conversation, and maybe he could answer a couple more questions about this place – and that evil old tyrant. Besides, Yugi had to admit that he liked hearing the stranger's voice. The man had a deep, hypnotizing tone – his words well thought out before they were spoken.

"So what's it like living here?" Yugi asked as soon as the man was comfortable.

They passed the meal between them and the robed man took a hunk of cheese from the cloth, popping a piece into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully for a moment before answering.

"It is quite different from the life I knew before. Food is plentiful; there is no need of people to fight over it. But there are also many vipers hidden behind friendly faces. One must take great care, and choose his words after much thought. What was your life like?"

Yugi swallowed the morsel of bird he had been nibbling on. "Lonely. I don't know. No matter how many people I was around I always felt like I was on the outside looking in…does that make any sense?"

The stranger nodded. "I feel much the same way. It makes a lot of sense when you do not know who to trust. So many people profess to have your best interests at heart, and yet their eyes reflect only malice and greed. Such is the way of the world though, and we must all find our own way through its many paths."

Yugi laughed, the first time in a long time before sobering at the reminder of his past life. "That reminds me of something my grandfather once said…he was talking to a friend at the time and didn't know I was listening. He said that there are so many layers of crap, and we must all pick our layer of crap and stick with it. I think they were talking about their work and a group of people who opposed their theories on religious grounds. It was something like that anyways."

The stranger seemed to mull this over for a time, giving a brief chuckle. "He sounds like a wise man, your grandfather. Where is he? When our party came across you, you were alone."

"He died a long time ago."

"Oh…I am sorry."

Yugi waved his apology off. "It's okay. Where was I when you found me? I don't remember anything…except maybe waking up in the healing ward at some point and time…wait…what does your pr-aA look like? I know you said he's young, but I want to know if he was the one I saw…I don't know, maybe it was a dream…"

"We found you in the marshes while we were hunting. As for what pr-aA looks like…I am not one to ask. I have never looked upon him except through the polished metal."

At this Yugi chewed on his lip. That was right. No one below the rank of priest was supposed to look directly at the Pharaoh. To do so meant death.

"I'm sorry, forget I asked." He replied.

The stranger seized his hand gently. "No, you were right to ask. You may ask anything, but there are some questions that I may not be able to answer. At least not for the time being."

"Uh…okay."

The contact felt strange, as though a jolt of electricity passed from the stranger's warm palm through to his hand. It wasn't unpleasant, just a little unusual. And there were no callouses on the stranger's hand. Now that was a bit odd. From what he knew of Egyptian culture there were no idle hands except for maybe the priesthood, and of course the Pharaoh himself.

When the stranger dropped his hand Yugi cleared his throat. "Do you have anyone here you consider a friend? I mean someone you can really trust?"

That question took a moment for his visitor to answer.

"I have a couple of people. What about you?"

"I had one…" At this Yugi's eyes teared up. "His name was Ryou…he died too. So who are these people you'd trust?"

The stranger seemed to take his attempt to change the discussion to heart, for a hand appeared on his shoulder, giving him a light squeeze. "I am truly sorry, little one. I did not mean for our conversation to bring up bad memories."

"'s okay…I'm just having a hard time with it is all. I'll be alright."

The hand on his shoulder drew him closer to the bars and soon he was engulfed in a tight embrace – as tight as it could get with bars separating them. The contact felt good. It felt right. And Yugi felt as though he had come home, like he could stay there in this man's arms, and if the world fell around them it wouldn't matter to him one bit.

Finally they drew away. "Thank you." Yugi said, making a show of breaking up the last of their meal. "I appreciate it. What about you? Isn't Isis a friend?"

"Ah…I can trust Isis. Of that I have no doubt. But I do not know if I consider her a friend. Our relationship feels…different. It is hard to explain. Parental, perhaps."

"So you don't have any friends? Anyone you can just go and talk to whenever something's on your mind?"

The stranger seemed to have no answer for this, and this time it was Yugi who reached through the bars. "It doesn't matter. I like you. And I can be your friend…if you want?"

Yugi could sense the smile forming even though he couldn't see through the stranger's hood. To him it seemed as though this person was trapped in a lonely, solitary existence, unable to connect with the people that he watched on a daily basis. And he was even more assured of that theory when the stranger touched his face.

"You truly are a treasure, little one. I thank you for your offer. And if at any time you wish to withdraw it I will understand. It is not often that an offer as this is made to one such as myself, and I fear that I shall talk your ear off now that it has been made."

Yugi shook his head vehemently. "No chance of that. I don't get much of a chance to talk to people either. So I guess we'll have to get used to it, won't we?"

"That we will." The stranger replied.

And the two of them talked into the night, well past the time it took to share their meal. By the time Yugi snuggled into his cloak he was quite sure that he had come across another normal human being who had been through the same struggles as he had, and was just as lonely as he had been since his parents' deaths. The man had asked his name, and when he received Yugi's true name he seemed to relax even more. But when asked his name he only mentioned that it was too dangerous to give that information at this time, but that as soon as it was safe he would do the same.

Instead of giving his name, the stranger gave Yugi a small gift to seal their friendship. A protective amulet that was to be worn in a pouch tied at his waist. The amulet, Yugi saw, was an eye with brightly colored wings that sprouted out the top – the eye of Re, a potent symbol of health and long life. One that only very few people could lay claim to, since the Pharaoh was the only one to give such a gift.

And as he finally lay down on the straw, Yugi couldn't help but wonder how the Pharaoh would take to knowing that one of his servants had given such an important gift without consulting him beforehand.

o ~ O ~ o

Yugi woke well before the sun broke the horizon, and decided that it would be in his best interest to hide his gift before the old man spied it. Not only would its discovery mean trouble for him, but also for the person who gave the gift. And that was the last thing he wanted. So he dug a small hole in the center of his straw bed and buried the amulet, making certain that it could not be seen from any angle.

And promptly jumped as the door to his chamber was unlocked and slid open. His jailor leered at him for a moment before breaking into a maniacal grin as he released the knot to his prison. This time, instead of grabbing his arm or his hair and dragging him out of the enclosure the old man grasped him by the back of the neck with both hands. He thought the guy was going to choke him to death, and began to struggle. But when he released Yugi to grab at his arm a heavy golden collar was left behind. Yugi had no time to guess at its importance as he was once again propelled through the palace corridors.

The route they took this time held no familiarity, and left Yugi at a loss as to why this day was so different from the rest. The old man seemed to be in an almost gleeful mood, if the tone of his mutterings could be believed. And Yugi caught a word or two here and there as the old man dragged him to their destination, but nothing that made any sense to him. The older man seemed to enjoy talking to himself at a level that was barely audible. Unless he was yelling. Yugi was unsure which of the two personas he preferred. The both seemed to border on the psychotic.

They approached a pair of rough poles in the middle of the outer courtyard, standing opposite a stately grove of trees and plant life so carefully tended around the palace, looking out of place and desolate. A knot of people grew around them the closer they got to the structure, their murmurs buzzing in his ears. Before Yugi could blink his arm was shackled to one of the poles, and he began struggling against his captor, barely understanding his peril. His struggle only served to increase the man's humor, but it did nothing to keep the man from binding his other arm to the second pole, leaving him exposed, as his shenti was ripped away from his body.

Akhenaten whispered in his ear, "he may be able to stop me from castrating and branding you, but even he cannot put an end to your public display and chastisement. You are a worthless, vile piece of filth. As is he. And before I'm done I'll see that everybody understands this."

And the man turned to the crowd to proclaim Yugi's status as sacrifice to the Pharaoh's coming of age ritual. That he was chosen to be the first slave His Holiness would receive, as was His right. And that he was receiving his just punishment for use of strange magicks to heal himself from prior punishment. Yugi stood there shivering, attempting to make himself as small as possible while the crowd looked him over. All of his flaws were laid bare before the milling throngs of people visiting the palace. All of his insecurities from his life before coming back into focus.

A rotten onion hit his chest, driving the breath from his lungs. He could hardly believe the vehemence with which the crowd reacted to this proclamation. People were yelling nasty words at him, cursing him as they believed Akhenaten's words. The humiliation was unbearable as he tried to shield himself from their rage. And that was before the old man started in with the whip.

The first strike whistled through the air, landing on his back and curling up around his shoulder blade. The shriek that was forced from his mouth was unearthly; his scream echoing around the courtyard and back to his ears. His tormentor laughed at the reaction, making a show of drawing back the whip. A second strike fell upon his backside, curling into his thigh, and he thought he would die from the pain. The second scream echoed back at him, and he thought he had died. Nothing human could make a sound like that. A third strike caught him mid-thigh, and he curled into a ball, hanging from his arms in an attempt to protect himself as best he could.

There was no thought process any longer, as any wounded animal would do Yugi pulled in tighter to protect what parts of his body he could. His horrific screams gathered scores more people wondering what all the commotion was about. The blows kept coming, though, and eventually he sagged against his bonds, unable to retain consciousness any longer.

As the darkness surrounded him he caught sight of a small group of people hurrying toward the public display. Just what he needed, more people to witness his excruciating death. And then he thought no more.

"Akhenaten!" Atemu drew to a halt before the spectacle, half the court and a contingent of guardsmen on his heels. "Cease!"

His order was ignored as the older priest drew back his arm for another blow, and Atemu stepped between the man and his target, his arm up to catch the whip as it descended. He hissed as it wrapped his forearm twice, allowing him to jerk it from the older man's grasp to clatter to the ground.

"I said enough." He snapped, unwinding the weapon from his arm as he stalked toward his uncle.

"Surely, your intention is not to cause a scene you cannot defend?" Akhenaten smirked. "I did no more than punish the sacrifice for using unknown magicks to heal himself from earlier punishments that were quite well deserved, I assure you."

Atemu snarled under his breath as he observed the widening crowd. He could not cause a scene that would leave him seen as weak. And once again his uncle seemed to have the upper hand. An errant thought popped into his head, and he turned to meet his uncle's gaze head on. The old man would not win this battle. He would not allow it. There were other ways of beating him at this game – if he played his cards right.

"Very well," he smirked, "since you are incapable of imparting what he is to learn without the use of excessive force you are relieved of a good portion of your duties to the sacrifice. As of now Isis shall take over your position. You are to resume your duties to the court." He leaned in and lowered his voice, "you would not want to be seen as attempting to take over the throne by assassinating the sacrifice, would you? I assure you the backlash would be rather… unpleasant."

This time it was his uncle snarling. And Atemu took advantage of his predicament by compounding his troubles.

"Jonoh," He commanded without taking his eyes off Akhenaten's furious countenance, "you are hereby appointed to guard my chosen sacrifice until such a time as I say otherwise."

His head guardsman looked as though he would balk at first, but the man lowered his head and acquiesced. He didn't look happy, but that wasn't Atemu's primary concern as he faced down his uncle. He could not allow Akhenaten to kill this boy. It would mean the end to his rule before it even began. Not that he planned on using this boy to further his reign, but he needed time. If this boy died his time was up. He could depend on Jonoh to protect him until he could figure out a way out of the situation.

"From this moment on he shall be delivered to me should he earn a chastisement. I shall deal with him personally. You are no longer allowed to touch him. Is that understood? Good. You are dismissed."

Akhenaten stared at him for a long time, and he tensed, awaiting the fight to come. After a while the older man nodded. "Yes, your Highness." And with one last withering look he stalked away.

Atemu turned to watch as Isis and Shadi cut the unconscious boy down. Shadi pulled the boy into his arms, cradling him against his chest with a worried look that Atemu had never before seen grace his features. The crowds that had gathered during the show had quickly dwindled to the last few people who bowed their heads and went about their business. He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. This was going to set tongues wagging. Again. Not something he could afford after his father's disastrous reign. The people were supposed to depend on his ability to rule over them – not provide them with juicy gossip.

"Do not worry so, pr-aA." Isis said, materializing beside him and gesturing toward the entourage that was ready to depart. "Come, he needs to be seen, and you could do with a potion for your head. I am certain disparaging words shall be spoken alongside his name in many a household tonight."

"And how can you be certain mine is not the name being cursed for this unseemly display?" He questioned as he fell into step beside her.

"I cannot," she replied evenly, "however, the average citizen is far from stupid. They understand malice when they see it. As much as they understand justice. You were more than fair in your dealings with Akhenaten. It is you they see as pr-aA. Not him."

"As you say." Atemu replied, sinking into silent reflection as the group made their way to the healing ward.

After seeing the boy into a drugged sleep, and bandages containing a healing poultice applied Atemu motioned Isis to speak with him. He caught the quick glance that passed between her and Shadi out of the corner of his eye as she moved away from her charge. He wasn't certain, but during the times he caught the two of them unguarded it seemed as though there was something going on between them. He hoped it was merely clandestine meetings of a personal nature and not something more malignant. He already had enough problems between his uncle and Bakura.

"You are familiar with Shadi?" He questioned. "From where?"

"Only the priesthood, your Highness." Isis replied.

"Ah. My apologies. The two of you seem to work in sync, as though you have done so before. Every time I see the pair of you, you seem to be in a deep discussion no one else is privy to."

She set a light hand on his shoulder as she met his eyes directly, "no need for trepidations or apologies, pr-aA, we would do naught to jeopardize your reign. Though it is a detail that confounds the two of us as well. We seem to be well matched in the arts of healing, as well as prophesy. As matter of fact, we suit well on many levels. But that is not all what troubles you. Come, I shall whip up a potion for your head, and you can speak your mind. I assure you, we are not interested in intrigue."

Atemu followed her to the sideboard which held the ingredients for some of her milder potions. As she set about to making a remedy for the pounding at his temples he mulled over his reasons for wanting to speak to her alone. She was his best hope for figuring out why he seemed to be so attracted to the boy that was to be his entrance into adulthood. He had never felt so protective of another. Not even the girl who had held his heart back when he was no more than a poor boy in a tiny village.

"So speak, pr-aA." Isis urged, "What troubles you so?"

Atemu's hands came up, as if he could pull the words he needed from the air. When he could not he gave a sigh, and put his palm up to her in supplication.

"I understand little and less of prophesy, but I wish to know if I am connected to him… and possibly, if you understand, why? I am… this situation… is untenable. I am drawn to him for reasons I do not comprehend. I wish to know if he is the herald to my death. And what in Re's forsaken world Bakura has to do with any of this – if he has anything to do with this at all."

The questions seemed not to surprise the priestess, although she slowed her preparations a bit while she mulled them over. Eventually she turned to him, bowl in hand, and urged him to drink. Once he finished she set the bowl aside, and eyed him speculatively as she leaned back against the counter.

"The questions you ask are both valid, and hard to answer definitively. Prophecy is never fully clear, it must be meditated on. And even then it can be tricky. However, to answer your question, yes, your fates are tied together, as is yours with that of Bakura."

He sucked in a breath at her mention of the thief's name. Although, deep down he had always known there was some form of connection between them. For his life he had no idea what it could be.

"The only way I can begin to make you understand your connection to the young one, though, is to tell you that he may be a piece of you. I am not certain that this is the right way to state it, but his aura has your signature. I would not classify it twin flame, but something to that effect. Your souls themselves are linked. Should he die I am certain you would follow not long after."

"I see," he replied, thinking over her answer.

"There is more to it, of course. However, I am not certain how much of it is set in stone. The young one could be your greatest asset or your downfall. Do not fight your attraction to him. Doing so will only cause pain. For both of you. As for Bakura, I would not worry over-much of him. The two of you may be linked but it only has to do with experiences, and those who caused them. He has his own destiny to fulfill. And although you are connected it is different from your destiny. At least that's the way I've interpret the signs."

Atemu chewed on the inside of his cheek as he considered her answers. Her thinking seemed to be in tune with what he suspected – at least as far as the boy was concerned. He needed time to digest these theories and put together a plan that would thwart Akhenaten's, as well as Bakura's designs. And that was not going to happen tonight. There were too many thoughts spinning around in his head.

"I thank you for your time. And your answers." He bowed low before her.

"This is what I am here for." She replied. "Good night, pr-aA"

He gave a nod and slipped out the door. Jonoh stopped his pacing and stood at attention as soon as he slid the door closed. His most trusted guard. The one person he could depend on to stand watch over his life – even though he chose not to be an intimate part of it. Oh well, that was to be expected. The caste system had been drilled into the citizenry from the time they could speak.

"You have begun to understand the importance of your new duty?" Atemu queried with eyebrow raised.

"Yes, pr-aA. Akhenaten is trying to kill him." It was a statement, not a question. "If he is allowed to do so it would end your right to rule."

"Yes."

Jonoh glowered at the wall. "You know I would never allow that to happen?"

The look on the soldier's features was fierce as he faced Atemu while trying hard not to look directly at him. Atemu glanced over the man who had once been his best – and only – friend when he was growing up poor in a dirty little village. He understood his old friend's reluctance to be more than a glorified body guard. It hurt, but he understood.

"This I know. And I thank you for it. You are a good man, Jonoh. I appreciate everything you have done for me."

"Pr-aA," Jou began.

"Yes?"

"If things had been different…"

Atemu nodded. "Yes, if things had been different…I do appreciate you, regardless."

With nothing more to say Atemu headed toward his suit. If things had been different he would have had an average life. With people who felt they could confide in him. People he could confide in. People who cared. Like Jonoh. He heaved a great sigh. But that was not to be, and now he was left to unravel the threads of deceit before they knotted around his neck. He knew he was the only one who could comprehend the depths of poverty outside of the palace walls. It was the reason he had not run away from his father's plans to make him his heir.

Well, that and his mother's death. But he would deal with her murderers soon enough.

o ~ O ~ o