I often write Seto Kaiba as a being with no fear. It's part of the power fantasy for me, which he's always represented. This isn't to say that he fears nothing; he fears quite a lot. That's kind of a major part of his story in canon.

The point is that, by the time I write him, after a few more years have passed and he's a "proper adult" (that's a joke; he's always a baby to me; I'm 37), the things he's scared of can't get a foothold anymore. He's too strong for that.

But sometimes, it's still important to look back on those fears and … confront them.

.

"What do you fear, my prince?"

The question would have seemed entirely random for anyone listening in; there was no indication of what prompted Kisara to ask it; Seto, however, was unsurprised that she would ask it, and he was already prepared by the time she did.

"If I could name it with a word," Seto said, "a lot of things about my life would be simpler."

"Use as many words as you need." Gone was Kisara's usual brisk bite; there was no trace of her fangs this evening. She watched Seto with an expression that could only be described as tender. Her bright blue eyes searched his face, like she might find an enemy there, someone she could fight on his behalf. "Speak freely. Please."

Seto sighed. Leaned back in his seat.

He stared at the ceiling.

"You had siblings, once. Didn't you?"

Kisara flinched back like she'd been struck. Something like grief, fury, and every emotion in between flashed in her eyes. Seto's gaze was steady, stern, unmoving. The savagery left her as quickly as it arrived. "I do," she said, "but I don't think you're talking about them. You're asking the dragon, aren't you?"

"I am."

". . . Yes. Long before my first life as a human being, I had sisters."

"They fought with you," Seto said.

Understanding now crossed Kisara's face, and the remaining tension left her. "They did," she said. "Fierce, proud, beautiful we were. They stood ever at my side, ready to call thunder. The fiercest weapons that Light ever commanded."

"Did you . . . wonder, when you fought, whether they would be hurt? Whether something would happen to them, and you wouldn't be able to help them?"

Kisara closed her eyes; drew a breath in through her teeth. "I did," she said. "Every day, when I woke to see the sun, and knew we would be called to the fields to face the Boundless Dark, I wondered. Would this be the day I came home alone? Would this be the day they returned without me? Would we all fall?"

"The day you did return without them . . . what—" Something caught in Seto's throat. He coughed. "What . . . did you do?"

Kisara reached out and put a hand on Seto's knee. She leaned forward and locked eyes with him. "I discarded the banner we flew together. I declared that the Fields of Order had taken all that they would take from me. I retired to my mountain, and I resolved never to fight in the name of their justice again. I would only fight to defend, to protect. Never to conquer. I cast down my sword, my spear, my dagger, my scepter. I took up a shield."

Seto broke eye contact first; he looked out the window. "If . . . if I lose them . . . I don't know if I'll be able to do that."

"That, my prince," said Kisara, and her ferocity returned, "is why I am at your right hand. I am still a shield; I will ever be a shield. Gods and devils could not conquer me, and mortal things will fare no better. You, and your family, will fear nothing."

Seto blinked stubborn tears from his vision. He looked young. "Are you . . . certain?"

Kisara bared her fangs. "My prince, I am a dragon. If I have not earned my confidence, then nothing has."