More Bakura content baby! I decided halfway through this chapter that chapter part names would pair together to create the "full" title of the "episode", and relate to whoever had the most screentime and POV moments (for example, the first episode name would be "Realization and the First Move" and is all about Atem). So part two is about Bakura again. We're getting into more of his past and his amnesia issue as well as his glorious war with Aknadin, which totally has nothing to do at all with any event in either of their pasts :P.

I think the reason I like writing Foresight-verse Bakura is the contrast between him and canon, specifically his relationship with the others. Foresight-verse Atem is a mix of Atem and Yugi, and everyone else basically matches their canon counterparts give or take some headcanons of mine (Kisara being a tomboy for example). Canon Bakura is all, "I hate Pharaoh Atem and his court for the crimes his forefathers committed against my village, and I will see to it they suffer as I have!" while Foresight-verse Bakura is all, "This is my little brother, I will protect him with my life, touch him and you'll see what kind of war crimes I'll commit for this massive dork."

Episode Five Part Two: Thieves' Gold

"Maybe you've heard of that mythical place of the Court of Miracles - Hello, you're there!"

Bakura was back in the hidden passageway.

He was looking at the image Maahad had identified, trying to find its match on the passage wall, but it was slow going. He'd used an oil lamp to see the walls, hoping that tiny flame wouldn't trigger the instinctive, almost senseless fear he nurtured toward seeing anything burn. So far, that tactic was… helping, but he still wished he could pass the sputtering lamp to someone else.

He was already in a pensive mood, dissatisfied with having to watch as Atem drove himself crazy over some horrifying danger only he knew about.

Because son of Ra incarnate or not, Atem was still his little brother, and Bakura hated seeing him in such a state of panic.

So Bakura was not in the mood to deal with his own nonsensical phobia of an oil lamp flame the size of his fingernail at the moment.

Unfortunately, his own head didn't really make a habit of consulting him on when he was ready to deal with things. His hand was slick with sweat, making it hard to grip the lamp's handle, and was shaking enough that he'd already burned himself once, and the smell of boiling flesh as the hot oil touched the ball of his thumb had sent another sharp spike of panic through him, and he'd dropped the lamp. Luckily, he was acquainted with Isis's handy spell for reassembling broken objects, and he didn't burn himself too many times trying to relight the Sobek-cursed thing.

But he had to see if he was right that the mystery symbol in this code Atem knew was here, entombed with thousands upon thousands of thieves' code markings generations old.

There.

Etched into the wall, then painted over with a dye made from crushed plants, was the symbol. It was messy and crooked, one of the many children's drawings littering the lower half of the wall, but that had to be it.

But what does it mean? It's not thieves' code, it's much too complex.

Bakura didn't have the knowledge to answer that at the moment. At least he knew it was there, and that it was important to the old tomb-builders, given it was marked on the wall of one of their passageways.

But that doesn't explain how Atem recognized it. Or how he seems to have developed a code of his own using it.

But why were Atem's letters to his future written in code? To keep people from reading them? Atem did seem zealously protective of the contents. But why? Was it really like they theorized - the gods had shown Atem something unimaginably horrible? Something so terrible that he refused to talk about it, even to them?

But what then? There was no cajoling the answers out of Atem - his brother was tremendously stubborn, and forcing the issue was bound to just make him shut down further.

In addition, it was guaranteed to make him more upset.

Bakura hated seeing a depressed and anxious Atem, but an Atem who was angry and giving him the silent treatment was much worse.

Which left Bakura with one option - wait and see if Atem eventually spilled what was bothering him. If it concerned all of Kemet, he had to come forward eventually with what he knew; even Atem wasn't that stubborn.

Problem was, Bakura was not patient by nature, so the prospect of waiting for Atem to feel safe enough to tell one of them (people he'd lived with since he was five, for Ra's sake) just what he was hiding in those scrolls did not appeal to him in the slightest.

It was in an already sour mood that he left the hidden passageway, blowing out the oil lamp and crawling back through the tunnel in the dark.

So of course his mood darkened even more when he rounded the corner after closing up the passageway to find none other than Aknadin, skulking around the hallways holding that blasted Millennium Tome like he seemed to be always doing as of late.

"Where are you off to, Priest Bakura?" the Eye-Wielder asked silkily.

Bakura was about to snap back at his step-uncle, however, he remembered the Millennium Eye. For the first time since he'd gotten over the initial fear of the thing, Bakura was genuinely concerned about the Eye, because now, at least, he had something to hide - the passageway.

He tried to think about anything else as Aknadin smirked at him, awaiting an answer.

"I'm going to visit Lord Atem. If you don't mind, I'd like to talk to him by myself before you swoop in."

"Is he still sulking in his room? I assumed he learned he has passed the age when he can lock himself away in his room for weeks like a child."

"I'm guessing you're the reason he stubbornly believes he has to be an emotional automaton, then?" Bakura asked. "It's only been a few hours this time around, it isn't as if the prince seals himself off from the world for weeks at a time at the tiniest thing."

"Three years ago, the servants had to drag him out into the public to reassure the people, as a king ought to do. If the decision came to him at that time he would have abandoned the people to their panic and hidden under the covers like an infant forever. That is not the proper way for a king to-"

"Yeah, three years ago, after his father, your brother, wasted away from an incurable illness and died. He was twelve, and in mourning, and he did everything expected of him as best he could - but gods forbid he be depressed following the death of his father-!"

"Bakura? Uncle Aknadin?"

Bakura turned around to see Atem himself standing there. He felt a hot burst of awkwardness and embarrassment, wondering how much his brother had heard of their argument.

"Ahh. There you are, my nephew," Aknadin said in that oily voice of his. "Priest Bakura and I were wondering where you had disappeared to."

"Correction, I already knew where he was, I just didn't want to tell you," Bakura said snidely.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Aknadin, it was foolish of me to disappear like that. Do you need my help? Is the council meeting up?" Atem asked.

"Not today, Nephew," Aknadin said. "However, I suggest you save personal time for other occasions. I would abhor it if you were to disappoint your father with your actions in his position-"

"Shut it," Bakura growled. "If you need the names of the dead as ammunition to win an argument, you're even more of an eel than I thought." He turned. "Come on, Atem, Lord Aknadin just said the council isn't convening, and everybody's worried about where you went."

Atem nodded, a shadow crossing his face at Aknadin's mention of Lord Aknamkanon.

"I don't want to disappoint him. I want to honor his legacy through my position. That's all I've ever wanted."

"Ignore him, he's been spouting the same bluster for years. You can't possibly believe Lord Aknamkanon is disappointed in you, can you?"

Atem frowned and hunched his shoulders, which was answer enough for Bakura.

"You've been attending all the council meetings and making all customary public appearances, haven't you? The only reason you're not doing more is Aknadin legitimately won't let you do anything more, not until the coronation. He can't get after you for doing too little when he himself made rules against you doing more."

Atem's face fell at the mention of the coronation, and Bakura mentally kicked himself. "Anyway," he said after clearing his throat. "Everybody got pretty worried when you left so suddenly. They were waiting in the garden last I saw."

Atem took a shaky breath. "Alright. I owe it to them to apologize."

Everyone was still out in the garden when Bakura returned.

"Ah! Atem, it's good to see you feeling better!" Kisara said with a smile.

"A bit better," Atem said, smiling wanly, which caused Kisara's smile to fade.

Where did you go off to, Bakura?" Isis asked. "You said you were going to the library for personal reading."

Atem frowned, probably remembering their argument in the library.

"Yeah, I got sidetracked, ran into Lord Aknadin again, and, just to be clear, he started the argument this time."

"It's alarming to report I disbelieve that less and less," Seth said flatly. "Atem, are you sure you're in a better mood? Because I wanted to practice archery against you, and I won't accept it if you aren't at your best."

Atem chuckled, but it seemed forced. "I wouldn't dream of going easy on you, Seth."

"Good," Seth said. "I'd rather lose than have a cheap victory. First one to… fifty shots, let's say?"

"Intent on beating your own record again?" Atem asked as they walked over to the archery range.

"Records were made to be broken. Kisara, are you coming?"

"Of course - I have a record of my own to beat."

"A three-way match. Sounds entertaining," Isis said. "Are you three coming?" she asked Bakura, Maahad, and Mana.

"I am," Mana said. "It'll be like watching the archery contests back home, right, Maahad?"

Maahad nodded. "I am interested to see how well you shoot."

"He is unrivaled," Atem said.

"So says the man who has the best chance of beating me," Seth replied. "Don't insult yourself, Atem, I won't stand for it."

"And I'm a neutral party, as usual," Bakura said.

"Far from neutral," Isis said flatly. "You were cheering for Atem to win last time, as I recall."

"So I got a little heated, you can hardly blame me," Bakura said. "It's guaranteed to be a close match when they're competing."

"You bet ten gold pieces Atem would win," Kisara reminded him mildly. "Most well-earned gold I've ever gotten," she added with an innocent smile.

"Seth, take your woman to the archery range, I'm being harassed," Bakura said in mock offense, firmly - but not roughly - pushing Kisara into Seth. The white-haired girl and the brunet priest were both beet red as they registered they were brushing shoulders. Atem looked back at them, confused, before quickly looking away and feigning ignorance when Mana sped up her walk so she could keep pace with him, Maahad following her like a shadow as they walked down the path to the archery range.

"All according to plan," Bakura said quietly.

"Must you always vex anyone who gets within a pace of you?" Isis asked resignedly.

"It's one of my many talents," Bakura replied offhandedly.

I suppose," Isis sighed. "The sooner those two get over themselves and tie the knot the better."

"You're one to talk. I've seen the glances you've been giving that Maahad guy," Bakura replied.

Isis pushed him away, face dusted red. "Hathor's mercy, can't you grow up!?" She quickly started stalking away toward the archery range, still blushing.

"I see I've touched a nerve!" Bakura said teasingly. "So, when's the marriage ceremony taking place?"

If the smack across the face Bakura got for that didn't make the palace gardeners look up from their work, the shrill, "BAKURA!" that echoed across the courtyard did.

The veteran gardeners had grown used to the silver-haired priest-in-training's name being shouted at ear-splitting volumes, and so they sighed good-naturedly and went back to their work.

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

A few hours later, Seth and Atem were poised in front of the targets, nocking their arrows and aiming. The "first one to fifty" milestone had come and gone in a neck and neck tie, and the score had remained tied since.

"Alright, sixty-seven and sixty-seven. Next shot takes home the victory," Bakura said. "Are you two ready?"

"Yes," Seth said.

Atem nodded, looking determined. His spirits had visibly lifted considerably from that afternoon, and Bakura suspected the contest was to thank for that. Atem was by no means a sore loser - in fact he was the most graceful loser Bakura knew - but he loved the thrill of competing with Seth, and he was always just as laser-focused on the victory as the brunet priest.

"You can do it, Atem!" Mana cheered from the sidelines. Atem's eyes flickered to the side and he blushed, before forcefully shrugging it off and looking at the target with even more resolve.

Bakura smirked. "Now!" he said, raising his hand and stepping back to signal the competitors to shoot.

Immediately, both teens let loose their arrows. Bakura saw the arrows whizz through the air and heard the two-beat thunk as the arrow tips pierced the center of the target, one slightly before the other.

Bakura raised his right hand, indicating Atem as the one who had fired the winning shot. Atem's face pinkened, especially as Mana joined everyone in congratulating him, cheering and clapping.

"You win again, Atem," Seth said, sounding resigned but impressed. "And I was worried you were off your game."

"You beat your record, though, Seth. What was it last time? Forty-nine? Sixty-seven bulls-eyes is a massive improvement, and you nearly beat me this last round."

"Just wait, I'll be sure to beat you next time."

"That was very close," Maahad said, looking impressed. "I was half-expecting it to be another tie. Thank you for letting us watch you train, Lord - I mean, Atem."

"You're always welcome to," Atem said. "We're friends, aren't we?"

Maahad looked struck dumb. "F-Friends?" he asked.

Atem looked awkwardly at the ground. "Unless you don't want to be…"

"N-No, I mean, yes, I-"

Mana cut her twin off with a flat look and a hand over his mouth. "He means we'd love to be friends with you, Lo- Atem," she said with a smile, her face turning faintly pink.

Atem mirrored her blush. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I didn't want to impose friendship on you if you didn't want it." He sounded… surprised, as if never expecting that answer. Not to mention touched.

At dinner, Seth leaned over to Bakura and muttered, "'Didn't want to impose'? He's the Ra-forsaken prince of Egypt."

"Atem's never been the kind of person who'd step on someone's toes, even by accident, as long as I knew him," Bakura whispered back, before taking a glance at Atem himself, who seemed sort-of cheerful again, although he kept flickering his gaze away from Mana and fidgeting with his fork, having yet to eat much.

Too distracted by the beauty across the table, Bakura guessed. But given Atem's explosion earlier that day, he wisely filtered away any wisecracks about his step-brother's obvious crush on the younger shadowfolk twin.

"I know that, but even after all these years I've never understood it. Where did such an attitude come from? Lord Aknadin took great pleasure in informing me that when he was a child, he was a real horror."

"Dunno. Whatever turnaround Lord Puffed-Up-Turkey insinuated happened before I arrived. Although not long before, I heard servants discussing it amongst themselves plenty growing up."

"The rumors I heard blamed the assassination attempt," Maahad murmured. Maahad blushed when Bakura and Seth looked at him. "Of course, those rumors always framed it negatively - that the prince's mind was damaged by the wounds he received that day and it had set him mad. Lord Aknadin subscribed to that school of thought about his behavior; didn't you say that, Seth?"

"I wouldn't describe him as 'mad'," Bakura muttered. "At worst he's a little eccentric, but I assume receiving divine advice since before you reached presentation age would impact how you looked at the world. And of course Lord Aknadin would think the prince is a raving lunatic, he goes out of his way to express the most negative opinion of him possible in all circumstances."

Maahad coughed uncomfortably, face dusted red. "Those unpleasant rumors aside, I've found I rather like the prince. Mana and I have only known him for a day, and we agree on that. Is that unusual, Priest Bakura?"

"Nope. Everyone who's ever met him is in the same boat. He's a hard guy to hate, and this is coming from someone who was primed to hate him on principle. Sobek's name, how I hated him when we met…" Bakura trailed off, losing himself in the confused, muddied memories of that night.

He remembered looking at Atem, at Aknamkanon, at everyone in that room, in abject loathing as he was hauled before the Sacred Court to be judged. But no matter how he pressed his brain, he couldn't remember the reason why he had felt so murderously angry at them back then - apart from the obvious of being tried for robbery at the time. And then Atem had forced himself into Bakura's life in his own eccentric Atem way, and Bakura had grown to like the prince so much that the irrational hatred he'd felt for him and his bloodline felt ten times more ridiculously excessive and he had quietly shoved it aside.

Well, except for when he dealt with Aknadin. The sour old vulture deserved it. Did that make Bakura a bad person that he thought so? It was a question he had pondered too many times for his liking.

Bakura forced his attention back to Maahad, who was looking at him in confusion. "Can you repeat that?" he whispered to Maahad.

"Oh, I was just confused. You? Hate Lo- Atem?"

"Hard to believe, huh?" Bakura said. "Well, the feeling's mutual. I can't even put my finger on why I hated him so much. Then I got to know the guy, and-" Bakura waved his hand in a gesture approximating an explosion. "That was it."

"If he's so loved… then why does he feel like he's so hated?" Maahad whispered somberly.

"That's the forty-thousand gold question, isn't it?" Bakura asked. "Unfortunately, it's one we can't answer right now. Not while Atem's being tight-lipped about how he came to that conclusion."

Bakura had a lot on his mind when he went to sleep. So, of course, his subconscious decided to add onto his worries with a dream.

He dreamed he was surrounded in choking, black smoke, the scent of burning meat and metal that haunted him even when he was awake thick in the air. People were screaming in every direction, and his dream self looked around wildly for the reason, hands clutched to his chest in terror. He was six years old again, trapped in a memory he couldn't quite grasp, as faces he remembered but couldn't name passed through the smoke like ghosts.

Then he heard a scream that he knew.

The outlines of giant, menacing figures, made ghostly by the heat waves rippling through the air, appeared out of the smoke, dragging his brother in between them. Atem kicked and fought ferociously, eyes wild like a cornered animal's.

"Where are you taking me!? Let go!" Atem shouted. The figures didn't care about any clout the order might have had coming from the prince of Egypt himself.

The figures, dragging Atem with them, disappeared into the smoke, going toward the worst of the screaming, toward a golden light that seemed to burn with the intensity of the sun…

The last thing Bakura heard before he bolted awake in a cold sweat was Atem's shriek of pain and terror - like an animal being butchered - joining the countless other screams rising up from the blinding gold glow, which, in the smoke and the heat, almost made the crumbling stone street looked like it was paved in gold.