Sometimes, when I do a divergence AU, I think about what it might be like if some of the characters know that things are . . . "wrong."

How might they react?

Would they try to "correct" things?

How far will they go to do that?

.

Amaya Kaiba grimaced at the infiltrator in front of her. "You're barely more than a boy," she said. "What possible motivation could you have for this stunt? Who's filled your head with so much grandiosity that you'd hand your life over like this?"

The stranger was a lanky young man who might have been sixteen; he was nineteen at the oldest. He wore his hair long, pulled back in a messy tail, and his face was blemished by acne and the beginnings of facial hair. He looked like every television sitcom's idea of a sullen teenager, but—Amaya had to admit—the murderous gleam in his eye was real.

There was something authentic about that, something deep, that concerned her.

It concerned her deeply.

"You're disinclined to talk," Amaya murmured, gesturing idly. "That's fine. Almost noble. But you see, I have a problem. Apparently you, and whomever has you dancing on their strings, think you're in possession of the moral high ground." She sighed. "No doubt this has something to do with my husband's choice of industry. That's it, isn't it? He's a warmonger, a tyrant. He buys and sells human lives. Therefore, anyone who bears his name is an acceptable target. Tell me, am I close?"

She wasn't looking for answers.

Not with words, anyway.

Amaya wanted something to snag in those eyes, something to break that insufferable confidence.

"I'm not a fan of torture," Amaya said. "I don't trust it. It's too messy." He scowled at the stranger. "But I have a question to pose to you, my dear boy: do you think your master will be gentle with you if you don't talk? Do you think, if I let you out of here, even if you remain silent, that you will be able to toddle back home like nothing's gone wrong? Is Paradius so forgiving?"

There it was.

Paradius.

Amaya wasn't supposed to know this boy worked for them. She wasn't supposed to have put that together, not yet. No doubt, she mused, she was supposed to assume that this boy was just another Phoenix State student trying to make a name for himself by targeting the Kaiba boys.

The lady Kaiba leaned against the table between herself and the stranger. "To them, you're already dead." She glanced down at the fingernails of her right hand. "You've already been marked. You were caught. That means one of two things: either you were supposed to be caught, or your master sent you here on a job that you were woefully unequipped for. Considering just how . . . pouty you're being right now, it could be either." Amaya quirked an eyebrow. "I'm perfectly capable of waiting to see which one it is."

The stranger said nothing.

The door opened, and Isono stepped in with a platter, which he set on the table.

"Eat," said Amaya, "drink, be merry. Whatever it is that you're inclined to do." At the suspicious look that crossed the boy's face, she schooled her own reaction. "I told you," she said, smirking. "I don't like torture. I much prefer bribery."

Isono revealed the lavish meal he'd brought from the kitchen and took his place against one wall, near the door. "I'm sure you have business of your own, Mistress."

"I do." Amaya nodded. "Keep both eyes on our guest, won't you?"

"Of course, Mistress."

.

In the drawing room, bouncing Mokuba lightly on one knee, Amaya watched Noa and Seto play a game of Magic & Wizards together. She ran through what little she'd managed to glean from the strange boy in her custody, from every angle she could think of, but everything led to the same inevitable conclusion: there was no way he hadn't intended to be caught. It was too easy. Too obvious.

Isono warned her when he brought the stranger in: "He came without a fight. I don't think he wanted to escape."

The only thing Amaya could bring herself to believe—aside from the fact that Isono's honesty was refreshing, and that made him more capable than most men her husband liked to hire—was that he was right. It felt much too convenient to believe that the Kaibas' reputation was such that a trained professional would balk at the idea of running from them.

That boy wanted to be here, in this house.

He had a mission here.

Amaya worried about Isono, she truly did, but she also found that she couldn't do much about it. She knew, looking about the room where she sat, that this was where she needed to be. The most vulnerable flaw in the family's armor was the children; these boys who were learning, but who hadn't become. She couldn't leave them alone, no matter how much she wanted to follow her husband's example and . . . handle things herself.

She had to trust her people.

She had to believe that they were stronger than Paradius.

The explosion sent her sprawling to the floor; Mokuba went soaring right into Seto's lap, and Amaya would have laughed if the dread of being right wasn't strangling her right now. She shot to her feet with the reflexes of a street cat.

"With me, boys," she snapped.

They nodded and immediately fell into step behind their mother.

.

Isono Tsukuda, his crisp black suit shredded to ribbons, was sitting on the stranger's shoulder-blades with his side-arm pressed against the back of his head. When Amaya rushed into the room, Isono tossed aside his broken shades and offered a soft little smile.

"Sorry about the disturbance, Mistress," he said. "Seems our friend here didn't like the accommodations."

"What in the name of Creation happened here?" Amaya demanded, hissing through her teeth.

Isono grunted. "He's been holding out on us."

Amaya crossed her arms. "You look like you've gone twelve rounds with a jaguar, Tsukuda."

Isono laughed. "I suppose I do, at that." He patted the stranger with his free hand. "In any case, I think he really didn't expect me to live. So, all told, I think I'm lucky."

"Why do you say that?"

"He invoked a . . . Lord Dartz." The stranger grimaced, and struggled against Isono's weight, at the sound of that name. "I don't think he'd do that unless he thought I would be dead soon. I get the feeling he isn't supposed to let that name slip."

"I see," Amaya murmured. She stepped forward, sat on her heels, and regarded the stranger coldly. "Lord Dartz. Your god? The leader of your movement? Is there even a difference? You'll forgive me for presuming, I hope, but your whole organization strikes me as one tax evasion scandal short of a cult. Or maybe it's human trafficking that you're into. I shouldn't guess."

The children stepped into the threshold, watching grimly.

Mokuba was hiding behind his brothers, holding the hem of Seto's uniform jacket.

The stranger saw Seto, did a double-take, and his mouth fell open.

"You," he said, with quiet horror.