Title: Identity Theft
Genres: Humor, Romance
Rating: T
Summary: Was it really only a change of clothes that made him either the Lord of a manor or a penniless vagrant? / Regency Era England AU, Spiritshipping, Dark Yugi x Anzu x Yugi
A/N: Written for Round One of the YGO Fanfiction Competition, Season 8—the pairing is Spiritshipping (Dark Yugi x Anzu x Yugi). This is an early Regency Era England AU (≈1800) and Comedy of Errors—if you don't know what that means you will see very, very shortly xD Inspired by and contains references to several works by Twain and Shakespeare. I used the Japanese names over the English, because while they would have fit the AU, I did not want to constantly refer to Anzu by the name of the country's national beverage (Get it, Tea? xD). Enjoy the story!
Identity Theft
Anzu Mazaki's first glimpse of London, England, was of the stately and imperial Westminster Abbey out of her carriage window, its bell-towers rising to the sky as if the Caen limestone were two upraised arms, side by side. She had heard the bells chiming and had swept aside the curtain out of curiosity, gazing starry-eyed out of her window to see the Church dominating the landscape for the brief moment that the carriage remained on that street before it turned and she could see the Houses of Parliament, the Big Ben, and more people crowding the busy streets than she had ever seen in her life at one time or place.
She had fallen asleep in the carriage during the long ride from her hometown of Whitby, in Yorkshire, towards the north of the country. She thought of all of the moments that had led up to this one—receiving the letter, the hurried packing and arranging of dresses and transportation. She remembered Yami as she knew him: a small, happy boy of ten, running with her along the shoreline of Whitby while his family took their holiday by the seaside. Their parents had been close friends, and now that Yami was the Lord of his Manor, her family had encouraged this trip to London, where Yami had promised to provide the connections and support she would need as a young woman being introduced into the London society. They had exchanged letters over the years, and she hoped that the new Yami would be as sweet and amiable as the boy she knew from her childhood.
The carriage traversed the ever-thickening network of roads as Anzu saw more people—women in long dresses and men in tight coats walked past shoeless urchins in rags—she had never seen such diversity, such frenetic activity.
Such life. Such was the world's most prominent city, after all, where anyone could find happiness if one was lucky or misery if one was not—where anything could happen.
Anzu had worn clothes designed for traveling; a dark blue dress, modestly cut, of sensible material that wouldn't be crushed by the carriage or become uncomfortable with her restricted movement. She would change into something more suitable once she arrived at Yami's estate, but for now all Anzu wanted to do was explore her new surroundings. She knew she was entrusted into Yami's care, and that she really shouldn't wander around by herself, but Anzu couldn't resist as she knocked lightly on the fabric-wrapped front wall of the carriage, grinning in satisfaction when the carriage slowly pulled over on the street and drew to a stop. Within a few seconds, her coachman had appeared before the window, and opened the door with a concerned look on his face.
"Lady Anzu, what seems to be the matter? Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Certainly," she responded, holding out her hand as the coachman reached for it automatically. "You can help me out of this carriage."
The coachman could not refuse her, and Anzu felt a swell of euphoria wash over her at the feeling of the cobblestone sidewalk through her shoes. One could not say they had truly visited London until they had planted both feet firmly on the ground, after all.
"Lady Anzu, did you wish to stop for some fresh air?"
Anzu waved away his concern. "Do not worry! I will take a quick walk, by myself. I only wish to explore London!"
"London is a large city, my Lady, and quite impossible to explore all at once," he said with a sigh. "And I am sure your guardian would show you the city, if you asked."
"I saw a market just up the street," she told him, "and that is where I am going, I promise! You'll wait here for me—I'll only be a moment, and you won't tell my host or my parents, will you?"
Anzu had cultivated a group of the most discreet and devoted staff in her residence at Whitby, and she knew without a doubt that, while unhappy about it, her coachman would follow her orders, as long as they would bring no danger or harm to herself or others. She was sure that a city as large as London—she knew that without her coachman having to tell her, of course—would have some sections that were unsafe and debased, walking around a public area in broad daylight would be anything but. Anzu loved to wander around Whitby disguised as a tourist in the summertime, in plain dress much like today, where she could pretend she was not a lady but a regular woman, with no responsibilities or social engagements to attend to. It was…liberating.
Anzu arrived at the market after a few blocks of walking to discover that in her haste to exit the carriage she had not brought any money with her. It was inconsequential—browsing was healthy, and she really didn't need one of those beautiful scarves on display…Anzu turned away, forcing her gaze away from the cart she had been drawn to, covered with pieces of jewelry and thin, patterned scarves. There were other vendors selling food—street food, carts selling grilled vegetables and sausages, roasted nuts, and a very spicy-smelling, foreign food that Anzu did not recognize. It was wonderful, and smelled so good that Anzu was even more heavily reminded of the fact that she had not had anything to eat since the sandwiches she had packed for her lunch, and that had been hours ago. It was fashionable to eat dinner late, and Anzu was expected to dine with her host, she was certain…but a little snack wouldn't hurt. It was a shame she had left her money in the carriage.
Anzu sat down on a low brick wall in as ladylike a manner as possible, content to watch the people walking by without so much as a glance in her direction even as her stomach clenched in painful reminder of its emptiness.
"Excuse me…miss?"
Anzu looked up in surprise, meeting the large pair of violet eyes staring back at her. She had barely noticed the boy sitting next to her, and his eyes and face were so expressive, so distinctive, that it took Anzu a second glance to notice the threadbare and ill-fitting white shirt and navy pants he wore.
"Yes?" Anzu asked, and on a third glance noticed the red apple he held out to her. "For me?"
He nodded, and Anzu reached for the piece of fruit before withdrawing her hand. She may have been hungry, but she was not destitute, and she would not take food out of a stranger's mouth. "Are you sure? You look like you need it more than I."
"I insist," he replied. "It is a gift—and it is only an apple. I am sure that there are hundreds of them at these vendors alone." He pointed with his free hand to a vendor showcasing different colors and varieties of fruits from oranges to melons, and Anzu took the apple with a grateful smile. "Thank you, sir."
He blushed the color of the apple. "My name is Yugi Mutou. You're not from around here, are you?"
She shook her head. "Is it that obvious?"
"Well, you were staring as if you've never seen a building before." He laughed in a kind way. "I see it all the time, and I'm proud that my home can bring you—and others like you—such enjoyment."
Anzu studied the apple in her hands, turning it over before raising it to her lips and taking a measured bite. She let herself absorb each minute sensation, from the smell of the apple to the pungenttang of the juice as the flesh of the fruit filled her mouth. She could hear the traffic of the market combined with Yugi's soft, even voice, feeling the pace of her chewing like the precise heartbeat of the city.
She swallowed. "My name is Anzu Mazaki. I am staying with a friend at their home just outside of the city, but until tonight I am on my own, and wished to see what makes London so famous."
"Say no more, Miss Anzu," Yugi responded as Anzu took another bite of the apple. "If you need someone to show you the city, I would be happy to be of service! I often give tours of the city when I cannot find a job elsewhere—which is, sadly, most of the time."
Anzu's heart fell as Yugi's shoulders slumped, his eyes downcast as he still sought to give her the slightest of smiles. She had never known the kind of life he lived, but her heart went out for him—someone like him should not be on the streets. Even though he was thin from a lack of nutrition and his clothes were worn and patched in places, they were still clean, and it was as though Yugi—however he might live—lived with dignity.
"Where is your family?" She asked. "Your friends?"
"I am an orphan," he began, and by Anzu's sharp intake of breath Yugi reached out a hand to comfort her. Him, offer her comfort! Anzu found herself mumbling apologies into her apple, feeling rotten at the core for all of the luxuries she had enjoyed over her lifetime while someone with the heart of Yugi Mutou knew the pain of outliving one's loved ones.
"Please, do not offer me your pity," Yugi said, as sternly as he could around a thin smile, daring to set his left hand on top of her gloved right one. "A man cannot live on pity, but he can live on beauty, and if I may say so, you are quite beautiful, Miss Anzu."
She blushed, awkwardly withdrawing her hand to wrap it around the apple with its pair. She could still feel his skin through the lace, and she wondered briefly what it would be like to feel without barriers, naturally, just her skin on his. She took another bite of the apple, burying her thoughts. She was a lady, and he was an orphan, and that was that; that was all it could ever be. After all, she was in London to see Yami, and here she was, sitting on a street corner in the most beautiful city in the world, with an orphan boy who thought she was beautiful.
Still, he proved that even a street waif could be a gentleman, and that even a noble could appreciate an urchin's gift.
"Thank you," Anzu said, breaking the pleasant silence, "I am glad to have met your acquaintance, Mr. Mutou."
"Yugi," he insisted. He stood as Anzu rose to her feet, and another blush graced her cheeks at his manners. "I am very glad to have met your acquaintance as well, Miss Anzu."
"Thank you for the apple," she said. "I wish I could give you something in return."
"Your company was more than enough, Miss Anzu," Yugi said. "If anything, I am still in your debt for it."
Anzu thought quickly about how she could help him. An answer came in the form of her current host. "I think I can help you," she said, remembering her own household and the amount of servants it took to keep it running.
"If you are looking for steady work," she said, "you should go to one of the manor houses in London. I am sure someone like yourself could find work, and if your employer is anything like my friend, you will be treated well."
"Thank you again, Lady Anzu," he replied, and Anzu's smile faltered. "No—I am just Anzu, to you."
How had he known? Ah, she realized—if her friend was the Lord of a manor, she must have been nobility herself. He was clever to have picked up on it, but by the deferential way he had acknowledged her, she hoped their easy friendship had not been lost.
"Anzu," he repeated, and she nodded happily before tugging off her right glove and handing it to Yugi, the white lace dotted at the fingertips with the evidence of the apple. "I want you to have this, in memory of me, in case we do not meet again."
Yugi took the glove with delicate intent, handling it as if it was far more significant than just its material value.
"I doubt I will ever forget you," she said. "But just in case…"
"I will treasure it, and our friendship," Yugi replied. "Thank you for both, Anzu. I am certain we will meet again, someday."
Anzu clutched the half-eaten apple tightly in her gloved left hand, offering Yugi one final smile before she walked through the crowds milling around the market and streets. She met her coachman—now frantically upset and distressed—calmed him down, and allowed him to return her to the velvet embrace of the carriage and continue on their interrupted journey to the house of Lord Yami.
"No…" He muttered, gesturing languidly to the tall glass vase filled with drooping birds of paradise on the dining-room table. "I firmly requested lilies, and you have given me these pointed…orange…vertebrae."
His servant struggled to remove the heavy vase, and Yami sighed, swiping one hand across his brow in perfectly sculpted exasperation. "At your earliest convenience, please. Take your time—this is your mistake, your job, and my eyesore."
Another servant entered the room, and inclined his head, keeping his eyes lowered. "Lord Yami, Lady Anzu has just arrived and is waiting in the drawing-room. Her things are being moved into the guest suite for her use as we speak."
Yami consulted a pocket-watch. "Carriage trouble, perhaps? It is the fashion to be late, I suppose…" He strode past the servant without waiting for a response, giving the man just enough time to open the door for his master to pass through.
I wonder how she has changed, Yami thought. He had asked for a portrait of the young woman several years ago to be able to track her change in appearance, but portraits often lied—although this one was quite flattering, if it in any way resembled its owner, he acknowledged. The portrait in question now resided at the bottom of a cluttered desk drawer, unneeded and unwanted while he had the real version to gaze upon.
In less than a minute's time he was approaching the doors to the drawing-room. So…his Anzu had finally arrived. He could hear her voice through the doors…apparently she was talking with one of his servants. He frowned; they should know better than to approach his guest.
He opened both doors, gliding through them with ease and allowing them to close before he continued into the room. His eyes were immediately drawn towards Anzu, who radiated beauty even through her poor choice of wardrobe—plain blue dress, one gloved hand clutching a black train-case, the other ungloved hand holding a partially-consumed apple—perhaps the fashions in London had yet to catch Whitby? Regardless, his Anzu was stunning.
"Lord Yami!" Anzu smiled broadly upon seeing him, dropping into a slight curtsy before taking a step forward to bring them closer together. He was striking, with impeccable posture that somehow transformed his rebellious hair and features into something patrician and alluring. He looked oddly familiar, but she could not place it; she knew no one with the sharp bearing and confidence that was so strongly Yami.
"Lady Anzu." Yami inclined his head in turn; he would have taken one of her hands in greeting, but found them both unsuitably indisposed. "I hope your travel was not too rough? We will dine together before the hour—does this agree with you?"
"Yes," she said. "I was only suggesting to your attendant that I be given the opportunity to freshen up and change into something more suitable before dinner."
"Of course," Yami agreed. "I shall have Mr. Leon escort you to your room right away so you can make yourself…presentable."
She followed the burgundy-haired man out of the room, and Yami sank into one of the room's thickly-padded armchairs, designed more for show than for comfort. His gaze fell on an innocuous bowl of oranges resting in the middle of a low table between the grouping of chairs.
"Mr. Wilson!" Yami snapped, slightly satisfied to see his servant appear quickly by his side.
"What is it, my Lord?" He asked.
"I specifically asked that apples be used for the decorations in all public rooms! Is it a trick of the eye, then, that I am seeing orange instead of red?"
"Not at all, sir," the servant said with hesitation. "The market was all out of apples today. In fact, according to the vendors, every market in the city—" the servant ducked the thrown orange, rushing back into the comforting shadows of the room's darkened corners.
This was unacceptable. First no proper flowers…then no suitable fruit. At least one thing was progressing as planned—his courting of Anzu Mazaki.
Yami stood when Anzu entered the dining-room, clad in a white dress with cap sleeves, her hair pulled up with a nervous smile resting on her lips.
"You look lovely, Anzu," Yami said glibly, moving to welcome her into the chair opposite his. As soon as they were both seated, servants bustled through the room, filling their wineglasses and placing dishes of food before them.
Anzu picked at her vegetables and meat, certain that what she was eating was delicious even though she could barely taste a thing, so ingrained on her tongue was the flavor of apples. Before her, Yami droned about the recent state of his affairs and the repetition of the duties of his lordship. Anzu tried to smile and nod at the proper moments, but every time she tried to interject he simply kept on talking. What was even more surprising, she noted, was the rate that the food disappeared on his plate through his unending speeches.
"It is so mundane, Anzu, is it not?" He asked.
"Well, it can be if you let it, but I have discovered a way to make life more exciting," she said.
"Hmm, do tell me, Anzu."
She seized the opportunity provided to her while his mouth was closed around a bite of quail to lead the discussion, leaning forward in her seat, voice lowered for emphasis.
"I often find that I need to escape the impositions of the noble life by disguising myself as a commoner, and mingling amongst them as one of their own! It is so interesting to hear the truth from one's lips when they believe you to be no more or less than one of them, and so liberating to act without burdens or problems!"
"What a droll habit, Anzu," he replied. "I would never lower myself to the level of the common masses. What can they possibly teach us? If they were really our equals, they would be sharing our dinner, not serving it to us. London has many things to teach you, Anzu, and you have many things to learn from it if you wish to remain here…as a more permanent guest."
Anzu sat, stunned by his words, unable to move more than her loosened jaw.
"And do close your mouth, my dear, that pose is most unattractive." Yami wiped his own mouth with a cream-colored linen napkin. "What do you have to say, Anzu?"
She recovered her voice in time to slam one fist upon the table, disrupting the silence in a clang of rattling silverware and glass. "What do I have to say? What are you saying, Yami? This is…you are not as I remember. What happened to my friend? Tell me where he has gone, so I may retrieve him and replace you with him. If you want me to remain here at all you will not disparage those who live difficult lives. You can learn something from anyone, Yami, regardless of their station or disposition."
He rose from the table, and Anzu could see the way his hands shook even as he set his napkin on his empty plate, giving her a sharp glance over the glassware.
"Anzu, you are clearly upset from your lengthy travel, and the strain has made you unwell. Get some rest and we will re-visit my earlier proposition in the morning." He gave her the barest of inclinations before continuing. "If you'll excuse me, I must bid you goodnight. I have much business to conclude before the evening is out. I trust you remember the way to your room."
He left her without another word, and Anzu remained at the table until her food had cooled before she left the dining-room, wondering what had happened to her old friend, and in her mental debate her thoughts strayed helplessly to comparisons of her newest friend—the cheerful, sweet, and charming Yugi. She wondered why it didn't worry her as much as it should have that she felt so comfortable around the commoner—and dare she say it?—enamored by his very spirit.
The Next Day…
Anzu was avoiding him. No—everyone was avoiding him. His attendant flinched whenever they were in the same room and Yami reached for anything—a letter-opener, a breakfast knife, a steel-nib pen—he frowned; perhaps the consistencies were a little thoughtless of him, in retrospect.
"Wilson!" He shouted, growing angrier by the second when his servant failed to materialize by his side. Half a minute passed before the smartly-dressed manservant arrived, giving Yami a quick bow in excuse and regret.
"My deepest apologies for the extended wait, Lord Yami, but a vagrant requested to see your chief of staff to inquire about a job—I turned him away, as we have no need for any additional workers," he said. "I was unable to see him out, so with your permission I would like to ensure that this—"
Yami interrupted his servant with a wave of his hand, rising from his chair and crossing the drawing-room to the hallway. "You ask my permission to escort a vagrant, yet not to deny or confer employment in what would be a position in my household? Perhaps he would like your job, Mr. Wilson."
Yami had not walked three steps past the drawing-room door before he turned the hallway, walking straight into a person heading in the opposite direction. Their heads knocked together painfully, and both fell to the floor. Yami brushed his hair out of his eyes to spot the other doing the same, and as both rose to their feet Yami was struck by the seemingly impossible resemblance between himself and this stranger.
Before he could help himself, Yami reached out and brushed a smudge of dirt from the other's cheek—not kindly, but only to more easily compare his own visage against the stranger's.
"You have my face," he stated.
"I have owned my face since birth," the stranger replied, so casually as to border on offensive towards the Lord, "so it cannot possibly be anyone's other than my own. You have not lost a brother in infancy, have you?"
"I am an only child," Yami replied smartly.
"And I an orphan. You disprove your own theory, sir." The stranger continued the easy discourse, but upon hearing footsteps approaching the hallway Yami grabbed the stranger by his collar, yanked open the adjacent door to a closet, and threw them both inside, closing the door tightly behind him.
In the dim light the two looked even more alike, and Yami wasted no time asking the stranger's name.
"It is Yugi—Yugi Mutou, sir. Would I be correct in assuming that you are the Lord of this manor? I am looking for a job, you see—although at my treatment today I do not think employment at your residence would be the ideal conditions to form a happy life—"
"Oh, do be quiet," Yami said, an idea beginning to form in his head the longer he looked at his near-twin. What Anzu had said had affected him, if only on the surface. It was true, he was bored with his life and he did find every little detail of the aristocracy mundane, and the man across from him had offered the most unique and exclusive opportunity.
"If it is money you seek, I will pay you well for the use of your identity for the day."
"Excuse me?" Yugi asked sharply. "And how would you pay me for such a bequest?"
"With my own identity, of course," Yami responded. "You would become me—Yami, a Lord of the aristocracy. I am sure you have never experienced the richness of my life. I would…enjoy the opportunity to see how the other side lives."
"I am sure you have noticed," Yugi spoke acidly, "but I am no noble, and I am not you. How are we to pretend to be the other?"
Yami's charming smirk cut through the lack of light as he reached to brush another smudge of grime from Yugi's nose. Yugi stepped back, disconcerted, yet he kept his gaze locked sharply on the man across the room from him.
"It's just the soot keeping you from looking exactly like me—with some polish and my clothes, no one would be able to tell the difference. One day—what could happen?"
"I…don't understand," Yugi persisted, "why would you want to see the world as I see it? What do you get out of this?"
Yami sighed. "I am tired of the repetition of my life. I meant what I said—I wish to experience the life of…Yugi Mutou. Are you saying that your life is not worth living?"
"No! I…fine. Yes. Let's trade places." It was Yugi's turn to sigh. "Why do I get the feeling this is not as clear-cut as it sounds?"
"Just don't do anything dangerous or stupid with my identity," Yami said as he shrugged out of his jacket. He had started on the buttons of his shirt before Yugi stepped back, now fully aware of what Yami was doing.
"Why are you…disrobing?" Yugi gaped, turning his head sharply to avoid looking at Yami. The noble only smirked before returning to the buttons.
"You can't be me without my clothes, after all," he said with an amused chuckle. "I'll need yours as well. I'm sure our clothes will fit each other." Yami made no move to turn around or offer any means of privacy for either of them. He frowned, working on the buttons near his neck. "Hurry up, will you? Someone's going to notice I'm missing soon."
With a tug, Yami pulled his shirt off, and Yugi followed suit, discarding his clothes and exchanging them for the noble's. The material was very nice, and while Yami quickly slid on Yugi's oversized and worn clothes, Yugi had some trouble with the rows of buttons on the cuffs and front of his new shirt. He didn't remember the last time he'd had to work buttons so small, and his untrained fingers slipped with frustration.
"Here. Allow me." Yami moved closer to Yugi, joining the two ends of the silk shirt together by swiftly closing the buttons. He worked upwards, his touches light and quick, eventually making his way closer to Yugi's neck. It was amazing, Yugi thought, how much the noble looked like him—he supposed that now the same could be said for himself in reverse.
Yami paused over the final button. He hated to cover up Yugi's flesh—Yami wondered if he looked this perfect and unblemished. It was intriguing, to be able to look upon oneself from this perspective, and with the dirt wiped from Yugi's face his disguise was near-perfect.
Yami finished the final button and turned to retrieve his jacket, holding it out for Yugi to take. "You shall leave first, and alert me if the hallway is empty so that I may leave without concern." He noticed Yugi hastily stuffing something into his pocket, and inquired what it was.
"Just something personal I did not wish to lose," Yugi responded. He had checked the jacket pockets, and found nothing. It struck him very odd—the idea that one could tell a lot from someone by what they kept in their pockets—and the realization that Yami's pockets were completely empty.
Yugi opened the door, and nodding to Yami as they both stepped out. "Good luck," Yami told him. "I will be back by the evening."
"Thank you," Yugi said. Yami turned, and with a practiced ease walked down the hallway and through a particular set of doors. Yugi realized the moment he was alone that he did not know his way around his own house—Yami's house—and that he would have to tread carefully or restrict himself to only a few rooms to be sure he did not either get lost or do something strategically stupid.
"I can do this," he told himself. He turned, prepared to move in the opposite direction, when a servant appeared before him, evident relief written across his face at finally seeing Yugi.
"My Lord," he said. "Your guest is waiting for you—she is in the lounge overlooking the gardens—and she wishes to have tea with you. I told her you were busy, but—"
At Yugi's kind smile, the servant stopped speaking and regarded his master with a puzzled expression. "Please lead the way," Yugi intoned, doing his best to speak like Yami.
"Yes, Lord Yami." The two began walking; Yugi memorized the rooms and hallways of the manor, finding it not unlike the gridded confusion of the city streets. "And after you have reunited me with my guest, you may take the day off."
"…What?"
Yugi was half-convinced he had done something unspeakably wrong, but if Yami was not truly around, others like himself should not have to suffer for someone who did not belong. "Take the day off and enjoy yourself." Perhaps he needed to be a little harsher. "I command you to take this day for yourself."
He smiled again, and the burgundy-haired servant returned his smile weakly before gesturing to a set of closed double doors before him and inched away slowly. "Thank you, Lord Yami. Forgive me…I do not know quite what to say."
"That will be all." Yugi realized he did not know the servant's name, and unable to properly dismiss him, settled for a quick bow before entering the lounge and spotting a woman sitting on a low sofa, facing away from him. At the sound of the doors closing she swiveled her body to see him, and he could barely keep the shock from his face at his recognition.
Anzu! But how…is this possible? His face must have betrayed more than he wanted it to, for Anzu regarded him with uncertainty, lifting a teacup to her lips before asking him, "What are you so surprised about?"
Yugi sat down on the chair opposite her, spotting his own teacup, filled with what he found was a lukewarm black tea. Even half-warmed, it was still the best tea he had ever had.
"Anzu…" Yugi cringed; his voice sounded so weak and beseeching, nothing like the self-assured manner of Yami. "I mean…how are you today?"
He cringed again; that was the best he could come up with? Anzu's frosty glare cooled his heart more than his teacup. "You should know how I'm feeling, Yami," she said. "After all, was it not you who disregarded everything I said to you yesterday and devalued our friendship?"
Yugi stared on in ill-concealed surprise and misdirected disdain—at Yami, never at Anzu—as she continued, staring at him with an expression Yugi never wanted to see on her face again.
"I…I do not recognize you anymore, Yami"—and Yugi would have found the humor in her words if not for the cruel fact that he was forced to witness what should have been Yami's suffering—"and I want you to let me know you again—I am only worried that the man I will find will not be one I like."
"No—Anzu—you must believe me…I would never…I do not…" Yugi had no idea how to diffuse the situation. Here he was, reunited with Anzu, and all he wanted to do was console her but he would not win her over disguised as another man! This was torture!
"Please, then. Explain yourself. Show me who you really are."
"I—I—don't know," he answered lamely. He wasn't Yami! He had no idea who he really was! "I want to try to—believe me—"
"Believe you—" Anzu's face clouded into a storm as she gasped, drawing one shaking hand to her mouth in anger. Yugi followed her gaze to his jacket pocket, where the arm of her glove was just barely visible.
"You—I don't believe you!" Voice raised, she regarded him with accusing eyes. "You speak as though you'd like to court me, yet your actions seem to insist you need to do nothing to win me over! And then you steal my glove because I will give you no trophy of your own!"
Yugi's jaw dropped as he followed her logic. He wanted to reassure her, but her words only seemed to taint the intent behind the original gift of the glove. He could not break Yami's secret—what would happen if Anzu found out who he was, and then Yami found out he had broken his disguise? No—let Yami deal with this, later.
"I thought you could be different, but you are just as arrogant and impossible as I'd feared!" I'll have you know, there are orphans on the streets of London with more maturity and dignity than you will ever possess! You do not even compare," she bit out, tears threatening to spill from her eyes as she left the room, her head held high even as she wanted nothing more than to run from him.
Yugi wanted nothing more than to follow her, but reasoned that she could not run far, and he could find her and apologize later. Another servant entered the room with meaningless assertions of business meetings and documents to sign, but Yugi wearily smiled and waved him away.
"Take the day off," he insisted. "I mean it. Tell every servant you see—it does not matter who they are or what they do. They will have the day off."
The servant looked at him at first as though Yugi was joking, and then finding him completely serious, turned to admiration. "Thank you, Lord Yami." He collected the tea set before leaving, and Yugi was glad he was able to at least do one productive thing in his new disguise.
Yami hesitated on the front step for a few minutes, realizing very after-the-fact that it would be the better part of an hour's walk to the city, and that same amount of time back. It was daunting; but, he had asked for this. It would be…truly humbling to experience what Yugi must live through daily. Even worse, he had not taken any money with him, and would surely go hungry throughout the day. He had not had anything since a light breakfast in preparation for the tea he was to share with Anzu…
Anzu! Yami spun in sudden reminder of the fact that he had just left her there, but even as he remembered her she appeared in the hallway, looking distressed until she caught sight of him, and Yami's confusion only escalated as her face lit up in happiness.
"Yugi!" She called, racing up to him with a broad smile on her face.
"You know Yugi?" He asked before wincing at the absurdity of the question.
"What?"
"Never mind," he said quickly. "So, I take it you…know Lord Yami?"
He was acting nothing like the soot-stained urchin, and Anzu would certainly see through his deceit in a moment, yet her face and eyes betrayed nothing of the certainty he would have expected from her. Was it really only a change of clothes that made him either the Lord of a manor or a penniless vagrant?
"Please, do not remind me of him," she said bitterly.
"I try not to," Yami muttered. Oblivious, Anzu continued, "Let's talk about you instead—have you been given a job at the manor?"
What? Yami struggled to put the pieces together…Yugi was the one inquiring about work, Anzu was the one inquiring about him, and Yami was the one who seemed to be making an admirable effort at ensuring that he did everything imaginable to ruin his relationship with her.
"No," he said, and at Anzu's sudden and sharp frown re-evaluated things from her perspective. Yes—he'd just made himself look like even more of a jerk, and he'd even raised her esteem of Yugi! That was unacceptable—if he was to borrow Yugi's identity, the least he could do was to assure her of his own good character.
"I meant, I don't start work until tomorrow," he said lamely, watching as Anzu's expression changed in an instant. "I'm glad," she replied.
"I met your Lord Yami myself," Yami continued. "When I requested employment. He seemed like a very admirable and hard-working fellow, to take time out of his busy day to meet an orphan."
"He's not my Yami," Anzu stressed. "And since when have you ever been just an orphan, or I just a woman, or Yami just a Lord? I thought those sorts of things didn't matter to you."
"Anzu, we cannot help who we are." Yami shrugged, still insistent on finding out how she knew Yugi and just what he was to her. "Why are you so angry with Lord Yami? His generosity at helping us both knows no limits—"
"Ugh!" Anzu sounded disgusted. "Generosity? Yugi—I wanted to thank you again for your generosity towards me. You're a thousand times more generous, and kind, and considerate than Yami will ever be! But we have just been reunited! Why would I wish to talk about Yami when I can talk about us!"
"…us?" Yami asked, incensed. Did she mean to imply…that she…and this peasant…were closer than he was? Well, he decided, he wasn't going to be doing Yugi any favors. Anzu was his, and he would be a fool for sweetening their relationship under the disguise of another man!
"Yes, Yugi…I don't know why I feel this way, but—"
Yami did not want to hear what the next words out of her mouth would be, so he silenced her by leaning in to cover her lips with his in a rough, possessive kiss. Anzu stiffened instantly, but Yami was enjoying the stolen kiss immensely, and was content to break it off a moment later to see the infuriated glare in her eyes.
"I—I don't believe you!" She cried, and with each word of confusion or anger Yami's satisfaction at driving her away from Yugi grew, even as he felt progressively more uneasy at the way he had violated her trust in the two of them.
"Something's changed," she said. "You're not the same man I met yesterday."
"Believe that, even if you do not believe me," Yami replied casually.
Anzu was not convinced. "But…you can't be him…Yugi's too good of a person to act like this!"
"Maybe he was not the man you thought he was," Yami answered.
"Coming from you, that makes no sense," she said. "You make no sense. But I do know that you…you…disgust me!"
As she stormed away from him, Yami himself turned and walked away from her, through the doorstep of his house and across the glistening green lawn. It was fairly cool outside without a sufficient jacket or undershirt to keep him warm, but while Yami expected his heart to warm at the thought that he had succeeded in driving her away from Yugi, his heart was cold from his methods and his deceit. Anzu…did not deserve this. If anything, Yami himself was the one who deserved the threadbare clothes and scraps of discarded food for the way he had treated the both of them.
Anzu was right. She had already taught him something—and Yami wasn't sure he liked what he discovered. It was interesting, he thought, to discover what one thinks about oneself when they do not know to whom they are speaking.
Yugi had eventually found the kitchen after what must have been several hours wandering around what was purportedly his house, and while he was glad he had given the staff the day off, he still did not know where things were located in the vast room—from plates and silverware to bread and cheese—and did not trust himself with cooking even the simplest of dishes. It would hardly do for Yami to return and find that he had burned his house down, after all.
Without much difficulty, Yugi located the breadbox and a knife and cut himself a few slices of a dark brown bread, finding the humor in the fact that here he was, in an endlessly lavish manor with all its amenities at his disposal, and he was eating bread.
He stuffed the slices in his mouth quickly, glad to be eating something, even though some butter or jam would not be remiss…
Yugi reached for the knife to cut himself another thick slice of bread when he heard someone enter the room from the door behind him; turning, he was so shocked to see Anzu again that the knife slipped from his fingers and fell towards the floor. Yugi leapt backwards out of its way, bread slice clutched safely in one hand. Anzu giggled, lifting one hand to her mouth to cover the sound, but it still transfixed Yugi into a speechless immobility.
"Yami?" She questioned, walking further into the kitchen. "I'm glad I found you"—she looked anything but glad at the thought of once again being forced to converse with him—"The house feels so empty…it is time for lunch, but I have not been able to find any of your servants, and I'm not sure what's going on…"
Oh. "Well, to answer both of your questions, I have given all of the servants the day off," Yugi answered, bending down to replace the fallen knife to the countertop.
"The…day off?" Anzu asked. "Why would you do something like that?"
Yugi sighed. "It was the right thing to do. Now, as I am hungry I regret not keeping a small kitchen staff for our meals, but we will have to make do with what we can."
"That's…sweet," Anzu said. "Thank you."
Yugi looked up, puzzled. "I did not do it for you—I did it for them. Do you think I am incapable of going a single day without the support of a company of servants and attendants?"
"It is fairly hard to believe," Anzu said. "But I find my beliefs challenged in more than one way, today—why did you have to pick today, of all the days of the calendar?"
"Today is special to me, as are you," Yugi said. "Do you mind, then, the changes in our household today? We can dine on bread—until the loaf runs out, or I find something else." He laughed, but Anzu remained quiet.
"What I mind is the confusion in my mind, and the way my thoughts have been shaken by you. You…surprise me," she admitted. "What has brought about this change in demeanor?"
"I would be lying if I did not say it was you," Yugi answered readily. "But it was also me, and…someone who is not me." Yugi could not help himself—Anzu had returned, and he was through acting like someone he was not; for her, he could be Yugi. He could be himself, and only himself—whether in nice clothes or worn rags, he was still Yugi, and where Anzu was concerned he could not be swayed.
"I thought I knew what I wanted," Anzu continued. "But I find myself so conflicted over the dilemma before me with the simplest of answers."
"Whatever you need from me, just say it and it shall be yours," Yugi said. "For you have helped to clarify my world, Anzu."
Her heart fluttered weakly at his words, and before Anzu could help it she had moved towards him and kissed his cheek lightly, before withdrawing, blushing fiercely. "Thank you," she said. "For everything."
Yugi let her leave, so caught up was he in the feeling of her lips against his skin that he stood in the kitchen, his own fingertips lightly touching the spot, and imagining the future that she could have with him—the future with Yugi, or the future he had secured for Yami.
Yami's feet, unused to walking such long distances, ached as he plodded up one street and down another, catching every single disgusted or cursory piteous glance sent his way. He knew how he appeared, and what they must have thought of him—poor, sick, worthless, troublesome, thief, vagrant. He understood now why Yugi maintained such a strong sense of dignity; for one such as him it was the only thing the judgmental travelers and citizens could not take away from him.
They did their best to take everything else. Yami had been tripped multiple times either by careless indiscretion or purposeful intent, ridiculed and scorned by those who thought themselves better examples of humanity…is this really how it appeared to those like Yugi? Is this how his servants viewed him? How he wished he could change…it was not right, that this should happen. There should be a place for everyone, and an opportunity for all…he imagined what his life would be like if Yugi had been born in his place and him in Yugi's. He imagined that, if that were to be true, the two would have met and switched places in very much the same way they just had.
Anzu was right. It was…enlightening, and equally liberating. He could not wait to see the two of them again.
…After, of course, the excruciating walk ahead of him to return to the manor.
"I do not understand," Anzu spoke aloud in her room, ignoring the pangs of hunger—for Yami's word was true, and there was little ready-to-eat food to be found in his house save for a bowl of oranges in the sitting-room, and those had been consumed nearly four hours ago immediately after their discovery.
She had thought it was Yugi she…dare she say it—loved? Her connection with him was instantaneous and intense, and he was perfectly charming and courteous. He seemed to have accepted her unconditionally, and she had reciprocated in turn. Their second meeting, however, had seen him change so drastically that she barely recognized the qualities that had first attracted her to him. Instead, he seemed to have become more like…Yami.
And Yami—he'd made the worst impression on her, with his unrelenting arrogance and selfishness, unwilling to think of or care about anyone other than himself. She'd all but written him out of her future when he, too, changed, becoming more like the man she hoped he'd be when she first arrived in his company. When they talked this afternoon, she had found him a changed man, and she liked what she had found.
She did not understand at all. And the source of her confusion—how she could shift so suddenly in her affections between the two men, and how could they shift so suddenly from one temperament to an entirely different disposition. A commoner and an aristocrat, and both were equally appealing and equally infuriating.
The confusion itself was maddening. Anzu did not know what to do—but confronting the one closest to her was a good place to start.
Yami made his way stealthily up the same expanse of lawn he had crossed to leave the manor, his prior appreciation for the landscaping falling when he noticed how difficult it would be to find Yugi uninterrupted and how easy it would be to get caught.
He couldn't believe it—he'd been reduced to breaking into his own house. The sun had set, the day was over, and it was time for him to return and for things to go back to normal—not that normal would ever be the same again, as Yami did not think he would ever be the same again.
He wondered briefly what Yugi had done with his day in the sun when a figure appeared from around the side of the house, near the window Yami was hurriedly trying to open.
"Who are you?" The person asked, and Yami straightened up, ready to tell him off when he realized just how this must look to anyone passing by.
"I'm...ah—" he began, but he was cut off by cries of "intruder!" and "thief!" Several more figures joined the first, and they surrounded Yami, grabbing his arms and pulling him towards the manor's side door, through familiar corridors and stairwells. Yami knew, with sinking hesitation and ironic awareness, that they would be taking him to see Yugi for judgment and sentencing.
Yugi himself was in the drawing-room, surprise written on every line of his face as he spied Yami and his servants, who had returned the moment the sun touched the horizon, thankful for their reprieve and eager to return to service. Yugi wondered just what had happened when one of his servants approached him and bowed, leaning down to whisper that they had discovered a trespasser attempting to gain unlawful entry into the house. Yugi thanked him, standing from his chair to face the group assembled in the room.
"Leave us," he commanded, and Yami had to respect the way that Yugi carried himself so surely—it truly was a very good imitation of his own confident bearing and address. "I wish to talk to the intruder in private."
Slowly, the servants exited the room, until both sets of doors had been drawn closed and Yugi turned to face the noble with a smile uncharacteristic of Yami's clothing and surroundings. "Did you enjoy yourself today?" He asked.
"Yes." Yami nodded. "I have learned more today than I ever thought I could."
"That is good," Yugi agreed.
"…Thank you," he responded. He had appreciated the new experience, but he was still more than ready to return to the world and life that he knew best. "Are you ready to change back? I promise you will not be leaving the house in chains…in fact, you are more than welcome to…stay for a night or two, if you want. Idon't want to send you back to the streets."
It seemed Yugi didn't hear a word he said past the first sentence. "What, here?"
"This is far more roomy than the closet, wouldn't you agree?" Yami asked.
While it was true there was far more space in the expansive drawing-room, there was also the illumination provided by a fireplace and at least a dozen lit candles scattered around the room. Yugi could not pretend to glance away at Yami's exposure, nor could he use the shadows to cover himself in turn. Still—another look at Yami proved that the noble was already out of his shirt and was staring at Yugi expectantly. "If you are waiting for a written invitation, I believe there is some stationary I could use in the writing-desk. Your choice, of course."
"Sorry," Yugi said feebly, starting again on the multitude of buttons on his shirt. He was not sorry in the slightest—the longer he spent in this room, the longer he spent in the company of Yami and by extension the company of Anzu. With an exasperated sigh, Yami stepped forward to work on the half-neglected buttons, batting Yugi's own hands away from their work.
"Why is someone so talented in discourse so hopeless at buttons?" Yami teased, almost halfway down the shirt when they both heard a sharp gasp in the silence.
Yami spun, his reflexes toned enough to recognize the location and source of the sound and its speaker. "We have been discovered," he announced dryly.
"What?" Yugi's anxiety was far more pronounced as he pulled his shirt from Yami's hands, convinced it was one of the servants or guards come to monitor them. Instead, Yugi's dread increased tenfold at Yami's proclamation.
"Anzu, please join us, do not be shy," he said, lips widening in delight as the doors opened fully and Anzu slipped inside, wide-eyed at the sight of the two of them finally together.
"I did not know what to think," she began, "until I saw the truth for my own eyes. The strange things that have been going on—they are by your doing. Which one of you is the real Yami? Which one of you is Yugi?"
"He is Yugi," Yami answered casually, gesturing with a bare arm towards the red-faced man still wearing his shirt. Yugi spluttered in uncertainty, finally finding the words he wished to say.
"I do not want you to despise me for this deception—please, Anzu," Yugi told her, but Anzu's kind smile stopped him.
"I don't despise either of you." She laughed slightly, surprisingly at ease when confronted with the both of them as they were. "I'm just glad I'm not crazy. I didn't know what to think, before—now I believe I know exactly what I want."
"I have what I want," Yami agreed. "Now it is just up to Yugi here to claim his own reward. Will you stay with me…with us…as a more permanent guest at my house? I do not want you for a servant—you are too dear to me for that, and I believe the others will need to be accustomed to the idea of seeing someone else with my face."
"For today I lived as you do," Yugi responded. "And even that was at your request. I do not think I know of any other way to live than as someone's servant."
"You are not my servant," Yami insisted strongly. "You can have anything you wish. Anything you desire."
Yugi hesitated for a moment, his voice lowered for only Yami to hear. "But I wish…for you to let me be your servant…for a time. For tonight. And I desire you."
"Only me?" Yami remarked, tilting his head to observe both Yugi and Anzu simultaneously and more closely.
"I desire…the both of you." He glanced away; his face flushed, his eyes lowered, his jaw tightened by the mere vocalization of it.
"Ah, how convenient," Yami said. "Then it is up to the lady to make up her mind as to what…or who, she wants."
Two sets of brilliant violet eyes stared into Anzu's, with the same expression on their determined faces. Her stomach and her heart were doing strange things at the intensity in their eyes, and her thoughts froze in her mind as easily as her words froze on her tongue from it.
"I don't know what to say," she finally spoke, glancing from one to the other. "I thought I had to choose between the two of you…when the two of you together are what I really want."
"Is there anything else you want, my dear, while I am in a giving mood?" Yami asked, smirking.
"Yes," she answered lightly. "Both of you put on your proper clothes so I can call for the servants and we can enjoy a proper dinner. I'm starving."
"As my lady commands," he said. "And Anzu—feel free to help Yugi with his buttons."
The End.
A/N: Inspired mostly by Twain's The Prince and the Pauper, with added amusement from Shakespeare's The Comedy of Errors (where two sets of identical twins—one set separated at birth—are reunited later with many hilarious hijinks along the way, in case you are not familiar with it). I adore Regency fiction (à la Jane Austen, etc) and I loved the challenge of Spiritshipping!
The named servants were all given different iterations of Leon von Schroeder's name. Why? Just for laughs—no significance there, I'm afraid.
If you've made it this far, please favor me with a review?
Thank you for reading,
~Jess