Episode 2, Part 2: Big Brother

"Cross my heart and hope to die, welcome to my dark side."

- Darkside

It looked extremely petty and pitiful out of context, honestly.

A full assembly of the entire Sacred Court, in the throne room itself, all poised to punish anything resembling criminal intent without mercy, through the dark magic of the Millennium Items, if needed.

Just one problem: the unrepentant criminal that stood before them awaiting judgment was a bristling six-year-old, glaring and growling at everyone who looked at him crosswise in a show of being intimidating but obviously terrified.

"Karim," Aknadin sighed. "Remind me why we assembled the full court to judge this commoner brat."

"My orders were to bring any and all intruders to you directly - after what happened with the assassin a few days ago."

"You must know, Aknadin, you were the one that gave them," Siamun said flatly.

"I suppose," Aknadin replied.

Pharaoh Aknamkanon leaned forward slightly, just as bothered by the events transpiring in front of him as his Grand Vizier. "Abraxas, you may begin questioning," he said.

Abraxas looked sympathetically at Bakura but did as he was told. The Millennium Scales began to glow faintly, the image of the Feather of Truth appearing on one side.

"Identify yourself, child," Abraxas said.

"I am Bakura, son of Aarav, a thief from the destroyed bandit village of Kul Elna!" the boy snarled in reply.

Aknamkanon knew of Kul Elna. It was almost entirely inhabited by thieves, former tomb builders who had used their knowledge of tombs and their traps in order to flawlessly break into sealed graves, and their families. Aknamkanon himself had left them to themselves under the condition they settle well away from the palace, and they give up their positions as tomb builders.

Come to think of it, hadn't a scout reported a few years ago that he had found the village utterly desolate, the buildings destroyed and empty of inhabitants?

…Yes, he remembered now. It had been mere hours after Atem took his first breath and his beloved Khepri had breathed her last. Aknamkanon and the other court members watched the scales, but the empty side - that was magically bearing the weight of the boy's heart - did not drop lower than the Feather. He was telling the truth.

Aknamkanon noticed out of the corner of his eye that his brother had leaned forward on his seat, his face pale with shock. While the boy's declaration had done little to affect the rest of the court (apart from those who recognized the name Kul Elna and were remembering, like he was, about the report that it had been laid waste to and left empty), his words had clearly struck some kind of nerve in Aknadin, and Aknamkanon resolved to ask about it after the judgment concluded and they could have a moment to themselves.

"Well, Bakura," Abraxas said. "Tell me, what did you plan on doing by breaking into the palace tonight?"

Bakura glared up at the old Scales-bearer, but obviously knew a thing or two about the Millennium Scales and thus knew better than to lie. "I was trying to take gold from the prince's room. Gold pieces, jewelry to sell. I needed the money - and it wasn't like the kid was going to miss them anyway!"

"That 'kid'," Aknamkanon replied firmly, not wanting to raise his voice with the child but still feeling the need to defend Atem. "-Is my son, and your future king."

"Then I'll be sure to practice bowing!" the boy fired back.

Aknadin returned the boy's glare. "At least you were brazen enough to admit guilt outright instead of lying like a coward," he replied coolly. To the rest of the court, he said, "I believe that is enough questioning. He has admitted his guilt."

"Father, wait!"

Aknamkanon stood up in shock as Atem came running in, a guard in hot pursuit.

"Lord Atem, you mustn't enter the throne room while a judgment is being made!" the guard said frantically.

Atem stopped, doubled over from running so hard. Then he straightened. "Father! I need to tell you… Bakura didn't hurt me! He had every chance to when he got into my room, but he didn't! A-and it's like he said, he was just going to take what he needed! How else was he going to get it?"

Bakura looked at Atem in surprise.

Aknamkanon raised his hand to dismiss the guard. "Atem, what are you suggesting we do?"

Atem took a deep breath, knowing what he was about to say wouldn't go over well with anyone listening.

"Let him go."

"What?!" Aknadin practically growled. "Let him go!? He is clearly unrepentant, what is to stop him from trying again? From taking lives when he returns? Aknamkanon, talk some sense into your son! He is mad-!"

"Aknadin," Father said sternly. "Enough."

Aknadin opened his mouth to protest but then seemed to decide against it.

To Atem, Father said, "Atem, please explain yourself."

"Punishing Bakura will do nothing to keep him from stealing again either. He admitted to trying to steal from me because he needed the gold to survive. You may as well punish him for not having any money!" Atem exclaimed.

"Not if he suffers the ultimate penalty-" Aknadin began.

"Are you suggesting we kill this child, brother?" Father asked.

Aknadin couldn't seem to come up with an acceptable response to that.

Bakura then spoke up for the first time since Atem had entered. "So you're just letting me go?"

Father turned to the young thief. "Not quite, young Bakura. This is still a trial, and there is still a matter of sentencing."

Bakura stiffened, clearly expecting the worst.

"Your sentence is to train alongside my son in honing your magic."

Bakura looked up. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I decree that as penance for trying to steal Prince Atem's belongings, and to prevent him from ever stealing again, that Bakura, son of Aarav, be named a ward of the crown and train himself to exercise his ka alongside the prince himself. He will be given everything he needs to that end, without having to beg or steal for it. And in return for consistent notification as to his progress, he shall be welcome within the palace walls for the duration of his training as a member of the nobility - and as Atem's equal and brother."

Bakura's eyes were wide with shock as he seemed to process this. "But...Why?"

"As Atem himself just stated, it would hardly be fair to punish you for trying to survive. And if you are given everything you could ever need, there is no motivation for you to steal, is there?"

Bakura blinked. "...No, I guess not."

Father turned to Atem. "But it seems only fitting to ask Atem what he thinks of this sentence, given it was his belongings you were trying to steal. Well, my son?"

Atem didn't even hesitate. "Yes! I would love to have a big brother, Father! Yes, yes, yes!"

Bakura stood there, stunned, as Abraxas lowered the Scales and the nearest guard cut the bonds from his wrists.

"What!?" Aknadin shouted. "You can't be serious-!"

"I am," Father replied. "Guards, escort Bakura to his rooms for a bath and a change of clothes. Rags are hardly suitable attire for a ward of the Pharaoh."

Bakura turned to Atem, who was, for the first time in days, thinking nothing of his doom flags and instead was still ecstatically cheering the idea of having a big brother.

None of the court knew the true reason why as he was led away, tears were streaming down his face.

The trial was adjourned, with Aknadin being the first out of the room, visibly agitated and glaring hard at Atem as he passed.

The Millennium Eye, capable of reading a person's most secret thoughts, gleamed, and Atem stood frozen in fear. Would his uncle somehow find out about his villainous future through probing his mind?

Then Aknadin walked away, muttering in frustration.

Atem was escorted back to bed by a guard. Although he insisted that he be allowed to see his new brother before he went to bed, the guard insisted that what Bakura needed at the moment was rest.

Atem opened up his scroll right where he left off once in bed.

'I have a brother now. Bakura was taken before the court for trying to steal some gold. I don't know why I did it, but it felt wrong to leave him up there, facing the full wrath of the Sacred Court - a fate that I'm likely to experience myself. I stood up for him, insisted that it was too cruel to punish him for trying to survive - and Father agreed! He said that, to keep Bakura from stealing again, he would be adopted as a ward of the crown and taken care of. Bakura, the game might not have thought you were important, but I'm so, so looking forward to getting to know my big brother! I will ensure you get your happy ending!'

Atem gently blew on the ink to dry it, before he rolled up the scroll and put it back in his puzzle box.

Even if the future cannot be changed for me… I want to give everyone I can a happy ending. That is… the least I can do… Atem thought as he drifted off to sleep.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Fortunes can change in the blink of an eye.

No one knew this better than Bakura.

One moment, he had been a peasant boy belonging to a poor but happy family. The next, he was left orphaned and alone. He couldn't even remember what had happened to his family, and his memories of who they had been were faint and blurry: a village, out in the desert. Two dark faces, the memory of their smiles. A laughing little girl, dressed only in a sheepskin girdle. When he tried to press further, sure there must be more - his last memories of them weren't that old - a piercing pain split his head, a dull ax slowly being hammered deeper into his skull the harder he tried.

Fire, a horrible burnt smell, a sharp pain cleaving through his eye and then his vision filling up with red-

Bakura recoiled, finding himself lying on the massive, soft bed and looking blankly up at the gold-trimmed alabaster ceiling. So quick. So abrupt. Just like his family.

One moment, they were there.

Then they were gone.

Ever since then, like the swift summer thunderbolts he had been named after, Bakura had gone from surviving to struggling and back again, from miserable to happy and at peace with his lot, from feeling so alive to brushing shoulders with death on an almost daily basis.

Starving in the desert after losing his family. Then being taken in by a band of thieves. That band of thieves leaving him to his fate that very day after a too-ambitious robbery had gone against their favor. Successfully stealing figs from a vendor one moment and being chased down the next. Building a shelter of his own and having a few rookie guards burn it in spiteful fun that very night.

Bakura had only been able to smell smoke and the reek of his hair catching alight for weeks after that.

Now the pendulum of fate had swung to an extreme he never imagined it would.

Just the previous night he had been on trial from trying to swipe some choice jewelry and gold from the crown prince.

Now he was lying awake in a duck-feather linen bed, the finest he'd ever slept in as the morning sun poured through the window, bathed, his hair combed, and dressed in a gold-threaded linen sleeping tunic part of him was afraid to touch, not wanting to accidentally ruin it.

The Pharaoh's ward. His personal apprentice. Practically a prince!

And all because…

Bakura squeezed his eyes shut, a sound that couldn't decide whether it was a laugh or a sob bubbling up. A sob of relief because he was alive? Or something else? Something he couldn't remember…

All because the Crown Prince was a raving lunatic.

I mean, what in Ra's name does the Crown Prince need beans for? Why would he have any interest in having an older brother, adopted or not? That's just more competition for the throne!

Bakura squeezed his eyes shut again. The prince, cheering in his memory about the idea of having a brother, reminded him of something… He'd even cried about it - his pillow was still damp with the evidence of that.

Speaking of the prince…

Bakura was startled out of his thoughts by a sharp noise outside, followed by Atem's voice yelping in surprise - and pain.

Bakura - almost instinctively - sat up and slipped out of bed, hurrying over to the balcony and looking out.

The balcony was in a beautifully placed spot, opening up to the large palace garden and orchard. Cultivated patches of flowers carpeted the dirt, and there was a neatly placed square pond in the middle. Large fig trees, dripping with ripe figs, shaded the entire garden.

But one roughly square patch of grass had been completely upturned and tilled in somewhat clumsy lines. The whole patch was surrounded by a dug canal filled with water fed by the pond.

And kneeling in the middle of it all, barefoot - his sandals sitting on the edge of the pond - and his expensive cobalt-trimmed tunic splattered with mud, wincing and holding his foot after having apparently dropped a water vessel on it, was Prince Atem.

Atem gingerly stood back up, apparently shaking off the pain - and then saw Bakura.

"Bakura! Hi!" he called up, waving.

Bakura uncertainly waved back. "What… are you doing?" he asked.

"Working on my garden!" Atem called back up, looking proud of himself. "None of the beans have sprouted yet," he added, deflating a little. "But the merchant I talked to said they might take a little while!'

"...Right," Bakura said uncertainly. "Let me get dressed and come down there; it's annoying to yell at you from up on this balcony!"

"Okay! I need to go refill the water jar anyway!"

With that, Bakura pulled away from the balcony, back into the massive, fancy room that was now his.

Bakura had quite a few ideas on the idea of royalty - of princes especially. Princes were those that rode into battle on white horses, at the head of merciless armies. Princes were those who spent all their time enjoying the comforts of the royal station while the Pharaoh led. Princes were those you were expected to bow and grovel to even if you thought they didn't deserve it.

Talking to the Crown Prince of Kemet, the Ra-forsaken heir to the throne, like he would talk to random fellow orphans on the streets of the Great City, felt surreal.

All of this was surreal.

Bakura huffed, trying to calm his nerves, before he crossed his massive bedroom and opened the door.

The guard standing watch in the hall jumped, clearly not expecting him. "Y-young lord Bakura?"

Lord Bakura? That title was reserved for nobility, and demanding to be called such as an orphaned commoner was begging for a clout to the ear at the most lenient.

Not that Bakura was complaining, though. Trying to sound as authoritative as he could, he said, "I'm getting dressed and going down to the garden to talk to the prince."

The guard blinked. "Of course. But I'm coming with you. We still haven't caught that assassin…"

Assassin?

Bakura assumed an assassin attack would be the talk of the Great City. But he hadn't heard anything about one.

Pushing that thought aside for now, he replied, "Fine. Wait out here for me."

"Yes, young lord."

Bakura shut his door, taking a deep breath. He'd just ordered around a fully-grown adult - a palace guard, no less - and had gotten away unscathed!

With that, he set about getting dressed, opening the large wardrobe and finding a scarlet-trimmed tunic inside. After several minutes where he gingerly fingered the linen, which felt so fine he thought it might disintegrate on the spot, he changed into the outfit, pausing in front of a mirror to look at his reflection.

Clean, hair combed, his bruises from last night fading, wearing clothes too expensive for him to normally touch, Bakura hardly recognized himself.

Tearing his gaze away from the mirror, he went back to the door and opened it, finding the guard still standing there.

"I'm ready."

Back outside, Atem was struggling to lift the well's bucket up enough to fill the water jar.

"Ngh!" he grunted as he moved the rope roughly another inch.
This is harder than they made it look in the scrolls I read…

"Mmph! Come…on! Just… a little… further…!"

"I was about to ask if you needed help, but this is far too entertaining, keep going."

Atem yelped in surprise and lost his grip on the rope, sending the water jug falling back into the well. "Bakura!"

The six year old looked a lot more relaxed than he had last night, smirking in amusement. Atem could see now that he was in front of him rather than up on a balcony that he had been bathed, his wounds dressed, and his spiky hair combed. He was dressed in a tunic just like Atem's, except his was decorated in red.

Atem bent down and retrieved the rope, which was now slick with well water, and started to pull it up again. However, the rope quickly started slipping out of his hands, painfully burning his palms.

"Um… a little help?"

Bakura sighed, looking like he was trying not to laugh. "Okay, here."

Bakura grabbed onto the rope behind Atem, and both boys hauled the dripping, full water jug back up out of the well.

"Need help getting it back to the garden, your Majesty?" Bakura asked dryly.

"N-No, I got it," Atem replied, taking the jug.

With some difficulty, he lugged it back to the garden, where he started sprinkling water on the dirt.

"What's the jug for? You already have that canal."

"Yeah, but the canal doesn't really feed enough water to the middle. I'm just making sure the plants in the middle still get enough."

"You thought of everything, didn't you?"

Atem rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "N-not really. I'm just learning as I go."

"What do you need a farm for, anyway?"

"I just read about it in scrolls Father has and I was curious if I could do it. Hunting and fishing, too! And maybe fighting!"

Bakura tilted his head to one side. "Hunting, fishing, and fighting, huh?"

"Oh! By the way, I was wondering if you could help me with something!"

"Me? Help you with what?" Bakura asked.

Atem grabbed Bakura's hand and pulled him over to a corner of the garden. "Here!"

Bakura looked at the pile of building materials and half-built mud wall blankly. "What… is this?"

"The merchant I talked to said I should have a safe place to keep the rats away from extra seed, and the crops when they're harvested. I tried to build it myself, but… it's kind of hard," Atem said sheepishly. "I'm having trouble getting the roof to stay up. A-And the doorway. And making a door."

"Doesn't the palace have granaries you could store everything in?" Bakura asked.

"Yeah, but I want to see if I can make one myself," Atem said firmly. "So do you want to help?"

Bakura sighed. "I suppose it couldn't do any harm. And the alternative is having you hurt yourself."

They spent the rest of that afternoon cutting mud bricks into the proper shape to fashion an archway.

"That shape will make the top brick keep everything else in place," Bakura said, giving Atem a leg up to place that final upper stone. "There. Now you can put bricks on top of that arch, and they'll stay up."

"Thanks, Bakura!" Atem said. He was so glad he had Bakura to teach him these things. "Now the roof…"

Bakura put his hands on his hips, businesslike. "Well, first we need some kind of wooden framework. You clearly know that, since you have these logs here."

"Yeah. I just wasn't sure how to get them to stay…"

"We'll need mud, and lots of it. Rope to tie the beams together, too."

"I think there might be some rope in the stables we can use-" Atem began.

"And what are you boys up to?"

Atem yelped in surprise. "Lady Isis?"

Isis folded her arms across her chest. "So you've only been here for a night and Lord Atem has already roped you into helping with his farm, too?"

"Well, since he asked so politely," Bakura said. "You're Isis, right? Do you know where we can get some rope? We need it to build this roof frame."

"I think there's some in the guard's quarters. I'll ask Shada," Isis said.

As she walked away, Bakura shook his head. "She's awfully open-minded about this."

"And…hff… you expected her not to be?" Atem asked, taking hold of one end of a log and trying to lift it up onto the top of the wall.

"Need help up there?"

"...Yeah."

"Alright, just let me climb up there." Bakura quickly and easily scaled the wall of their newly constructed grain store. "I just thought she'd think it more strange that you suddenly decided to build yourself a granary."

"No - I mentioned to her that I would probably need one yesterday. She even helped me find seeds to plant in the city market."

"And what does your father think of this?"

"He wasn't happy that I left without a proper guard to go get seed, but he seemed fine with the field itself," Atem replied.

"Right. I saw you yesterday. You really had no guard at all?"

"I had Shada and Isis with me, but Father told me I should have had a larger escort, especially after the attack a few days ago."

"An attack?"

"You didn't hear?"

"The guard outside my room mentioned some kind of assassin breaking in, but apart from that, no."

"Someone broke into the palace. He had a knife, and tried to attack me. That was how I got this," Atem said, pointing to the knife scar on his forehead. "He knocked me down and I hit my head, but Father says that he didn't hurt anyone else. He managed to get away clean, though; the palace guards are still looking for him."

"Is that why the entire court was so eager to see me executed yesterday?"

Atem bit his lip. "Yeah - I think so. They're on high alert about intruders right now."

"Really? I suppose they're keeping it hushed up so no one panics."

"Maybe?" Atem replied. "Come on, let's get some more of these logs up here."

"Hey!" Isis called. She ran up to them, Shada - arms weighed down by strands of rope - behind her. "You boys are in luck; there happened to be a lot of unused rope in the guards' quarters!"

"Great!" Atem called, picking his way down the mud brick wall and running up to Shada to accept an armful of the ropes.

"Did you build all of this in the course of an afternoon?" Shada asked mildly.

"I, uh, had a lot of help from Bakura," Atem said.

Bakura scoffed. "On the archway. The walls? That was all you, wasn't it?"

"That's amazing," Isis breathed. "Do you mind if I help?"

"I dunno, is a lovely lady like you alright with getting her noble hands dirty?" Bakura asked.

"As of a night ago, you're as much a noble as I am," Isis replied calmly. "Lord Atem, can you help me up?"

"Lady Isis, I don't think you should…" Shada began, only to sigh and rub his temples as Atem cheerfully held out his hand for her to climb up the mud brick walls and start tying branches together to build the framework.

The hours wore on, the sun dipping toward the horizon and the air becoming chilly, but still the three young nobles worked, oblivious to or simply ignoring the growing number of servants and nobles who gathered to watch them build.

"Brother, tell them to stop," Aknadin growled. "Building with mud bricks is the job of the poorest laborers! Certainly not anything children of noble standing should take part in! I understand the thief boy coaxing them into it, but this appears to be all Atem's idea! Surely-"

"Enough, Aknadin," Aknamkanon said. "I am simply glad to see Atem in high spirits again, and young Isis and Bakura appear to be enjoying themselves immensely as well." He turned to Berenike. "All the same, Berenike, do you know the reason for this new structure Atem and his friends are building?"

"It's meant to be a storehouse for extra seeds," Berenike said anxiously. "Lord Atem said the merchant he talked to recommended he have one."

"Surely there were places in the palace that could have served that same purpose," Abraxas said.

"Lord Atem insisted, my Lord, that he build it himself before imposing on his father to provide him such a space," Shada said.

"I hope he doesn't believe he can't turn to me for aid," Aknamkanon said. "I will gladly give him whatever he needs to keep up this farm, if it brings him such enjoyment to work on it. He shouldn't feel like it is a burden for me to do so."

"I only repeat what he told me," Shada insisted.

It was when the sun was gone over the horizon that they finished laying the final brick in the roof. All three noble children were covered in mud and thoroughly exhausted, but fulfilled as they inspected their handiwork.

"There! Now my seeds will be protected from the rain!" Atem said proudly. "Thanks for all the help, guys!"

"But not from vermin," Bakura pointed out. "We still need a door."

"That's simple enough," Isis insisted, wiping her brow and barely noting the dirt streak her hand left on her forehead. "We just need-" She then abruptly bowed, and after a second, pulled Bakura down to bow too.

Atem looked down and realized why: Father was standing at the edge of the bean field, looking up at the newly built granary with interest.

"Father," Atem began.

"My son, it's incredible that you, Isis, and Bakura managed so much in this short span of time. But I do believe it's time you rest. I will ensure no harm befalls your seed in the absence of a door. For now, all three of you need to wash up for dinner. The sun has already set; look."

As if on cue, Atem's stomach growled loudly.

Bakura snickered into his hand, only for his own hunger to abruptly announce itself in the same way.

"Don't look at me like that," he grumbled at Isis's smug expression.

All three children climbed down from the roof of the granary, Atem only pausing to tuck away his sack of seed inside the newly built structure, before they were all led inside to bathe and change clothes.

At dinner, Atem quickly lost himself in the conversation going on around him, as Bakura teased Isis and Isis rapidly proved she could fight back with jabs of her own.

He'd finished his granary, meaning his farm was practically finished. All he had to do was wait for the beans to grow.

One step toward averting his doom, accomplished.

And he couldn't help but think it had been… fun, having Bakura and Isis help him.

He was glad to know them.

Even if it means my doom someday, I'm glad to have you as my big brother, Bakura, and you as my friend and sister, Isis. The happiest ending I could achieve wouldn't be worth never meeting you.

'Today', he wrote in his 'surviving doom' scroll, 'I feel like the luckiest person in the world'.