Welp, it took me a bit to round up some Ishtar plot bunnies, but I've got an update at last for this story (AHAHAHA I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN IT) and I even managed to get it up in time—this was written for The Duelist's Heiress because it's her birthday today.

This one is set sometime after the previous chapter and references it a bit. Happy birthday, TDH, and I hope you enjoy this humble present!

"Wishid, Wishid!"

He jumped when something barreled into his legs and he looked down. Marik was beaming up at him and giggling madly, cradling a medium-sized clay pot to his chest. He had not seen Marik all day and had been on his way to bed when Marik had bumped into him; normally Rishid would have been the one watching over the child, but today Master Ishtar had put him to work clearing out an old storeroom and he was thoroughly exhausted. "And what are you up to?" he asked, a smile spreading across his features. "You're supposed to be in bed."

"I has bifday p'esent fo' you," Marik announced proudly, holding the pot up for his brother's inspection.

It wasn't even close to his birthday yet—and he was not even sure that the date he used as his birthday was his actual one—but Rishid was still touched by the gesture. Most of the time his birthday came and went without much notice, primarily because Master Ishtar refused to pay attention to them (though Ishizu made a point of giving something to Rishid every time his birthday came around).

The smile faded and Rishid eyed the pot warily. "Is it a buggy?" he asked, using Marik's word for insects. He was remembering the last time Marik had tried giving a present (the scorpion incident had not yet been forgotten).

Marik's face scrunched into a thoughtful frown as he mulled over his older brother's question. "'Shizu says dey no buggy," he said after a brief pause.

Ah. So that meant he was dealing with "buggy." But if Ishizu had allowed Marik to keep the pot and whatever was inside then it had to mean it was all right—unless she didn't know about it.

"Well then, let's see what it is," he said at last, holding his hand out to Marik.

The child carefully deposited the pot into his hand. "Lookie but no let dem 'scape," said Marik firmly.

Rishid chuckled. "Of course. I won't let them go…whatever they might be," he added, slowly opening the lid to peer inside.

He couldn't see anything at first but then he saw one, then another light blink in the darkness of the pot. It took him a moment before he realized what he was looking at. "They're fireflies," he said, startled. He wondered where Marik had found them, as fireflies down here were a rare occurrence; he'd only seen one once as a young child and his mother had to explain to him what they were.

Marik beamed at him. "'Shizu says dey haf sta-wers in dem," he said helpfully. "I catch sta-wers fo' Wishid. Happy bifday!"

It took him a moment to process this statement, but when he did he gave the boy a genuine smile. "Thank you, Marik," he said, reaching out to ruffle the child's hair affectionately. He scooped the toddler into his arms and then bent down to pick up the pot, taking care not to jostle the lid. "Now let's get you to bed."

Marik yawned and took the pot from Rishid so that his brother could hold him easier, then snuggled up against him with the pot clutched to his chest. "I hode sta-wers fo' you. Nigh' nigh'," he said sleepily.

Rishid chuckled and then started down the passageway to put Marik to bed. He was certain that Marik was misconstruing something Ishizu had told him, but he did not have the heart to tell Marik that the fireflies weren't stars; he would release the fireflies later (though he'd make sure the child understood why).

But was the thought that counted, and that was what mattered to Rishid.