Hail and well met, weary travelers! They call me Iced Blood.
Welcome to the madhouse.
Something of note before this one begins: when the subject at hand is one Seto Goddamn Kaiba (that's his middle name; don't even try to convinced me otherwise), it's very difficult for me to figure out romantic prospects. There are a grand number of factors involved when it comes to why, but chief among them is the simple fact that he's so slow to trust.
Who, I wondered, would be able to put up with him? Who, I wondered, would he let in? Who, I wondered, would he open up to?
And on the subject of your standard, storybook romance, there was only one real candidate for me. Not to say that anything involving any member of the Kaiba family would be wholly "standard" in any sense of the word, but this is as close as I have been able to get.
This story is (1) my attempt to write one of those 100 Prompt Challenge things floating around the internet, (2) an attempt to write a "standard" Kaiba romance, and (3) an experiment in meshing together every version of the Yu-Gi-Oh! canon that I've created over the years.
This is also something of a test run, to get used to a few new character dynamics before I get to it in another story.
That story will explore the origins of Seto's foray into romantic relationships.
This story will explore what happens once it's already been built.
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"Seto, this is not how today was supposed to go."
Seto Kaiba was not a man known for adapting to social norms. In fact, he was best known for bucking them on principle. This, perhaps, best explained why he turned his head and glanced over his shoulder at the woman still pouting in his bed and offered nothing but a smirk in response.
Kisara groaned, tossed herself into a sitting position, and pushed an alabaster waterfall out of her face.
"We were supposed to try to sleep in," she said. "And then Mokuba was supposed to come barreling into the room at, like, six in the morning anyway. And he's so excited that he jumps on the bed, and you start cursing and throwing things until you see him, and then you get all flustered and embarrassed because we're not supposed to use bad language around the baby, and . . ." She gesticulated randomly.
"You seem to have forgotten a critical point in this calculation," Seto muttered, sifting through his dresser. "There hasn't been a single morning where Mokuba has been awake before me . . . in seven years."
Kisara flopped back down and threw the covers back over herself. "Here's what you should do. You should stop getting ready. So we can go back to sleep, and let things progress properly. That's how vacations work."
"That sounds excellent, except for the part where it's not going to happen."
Seto watched with idle amusement as the other half of his soul flailed around underneath his sheets before finally throwing herself into a vertical position. Kisara stood upright on Seto's bed, wearing nothing but shorts and a t-shirt that was about four sizes too big, and yet . . . something about her bearing reminded Seto of nothing less than a queen.
She wrapped Seto's quilt around her shoulders like a royal cloak, as if she'd read his mind. "I hereby decree . . . in the name of all that should be held sacred . . . that time no longer exists unless the sun is up."
She flopped back down, curled up in the fetal position, and went back to sleep.
"The sun is in the same position it's always been," Seto muttered, lifting up a pair of hiking boots and examining them. "And since time is a purely human construct, you can dismiss its existence all you want. The constant that time represents won't stop just because you demand it."
". . . I'm sleeping, Seto."
"Of course. How foolish of me."
A soft knock came at the door. "Niisama? Are you up?"
"Come in, Mokuba," Seto said.
The young Kaiba slipped into the room. He was still in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn. Before he could speak, Kisara popped her head up and stared at him. He blinked. "Um . . . hi?"
The young woman's glare could have frozen the sun. "Do something cute," she hissed.
Mokuba tilted his head. "Wha?"
"She's delirious," Seto said. "What is it, kiddo?"
"Um . . . you might wanna come out here. I think Noa broke the stove again."
Seto closed his eyes. "Oh, for fuck's sake."
Mokuba shrugged. Then he turned back to Kisara, dropped to one knee, and lowered his head. "By your leave, Your Highness."
Kisara's entire essence lit up, and she extricated herself from the bedcovers to put a hand on the boy's head. She sneered at Seto. "See? Mokuba knows how to follow instructions."
She put an arm around the boy's shoulders and left the room.
Seto stared at the door as it closed.
". . . When was I given instructions?"