Author's Notes: Hey folks; Tis I, back again... nearing the end of the summer... oops. Ah well. You wanted it, and you got it – a sequel to "The Games We Play". You ought to read that before you read this, as it will make a great deal more sense.

According to LFangor's "Yu-Gi-Oh! Shippers List", the pairing in this fic is Casteshipping, or Pharaoh Yami/Atemu x Thief Bakura. I refer to Yami as 'Atemu' throughout. Don't like, don't read.

While it worked in TGWP, which was only about eight pages long, the capital "H" thing... was incredibly painful in this twenty-two page monstrosity... and yet I did it anyway, for the sake of being consistent. It burns. Hopefully doesn't cause brain-ulcers to you readers. T . T But it seemed like a cool idea at the time... For those who've forgotten: 'the capital "H" thing' was just that Yami/Atemu was Pharaoh, who was the living god, and since God is referred to as "He", I figured, why wouldn't Egypt's living-god have the same title?

One last thing – italicized bits in mid-fic are quotes taken from TGWP. Also mine. XD

Eeeeeeeeeeenjoy. x . x

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!. Because if I did, this wouldn't be a fanfic; it'd be canon. T . T

Warnings: Swearing, mild shonen-ai, spoilers, swearing... op, said that already... ::whistles innocently:: I tried to keep it as true to the Egypt-arc as I possibly could, given the circumstances. The pairing doesn't make it AU, it just makes it difficult to write. For the record, I don't KNOW whether or not Bakura was possessed by Zork; the episodes I've seen are without subtitles, and I am very very very lacking in any proficiency in Japanese. ::sheepish look::

Gods, I hate not being able to use Japanese emoticons. T . T

Dedication: As per usual, I would like to dedicate this to my soul-sister, Snare-chan (LoverofSilverHairedBishies). ::happy::happy:: As TGWP was a present for her, I figure the sequel is kind of an extension of that. ::grins::

Make Your Move

The temple at KuruEruna was not, by any means, a favorite place amongst the people of Egypt. In fact, people had a tendency to avoid the place of conflict altogether in the hopes that, eventually, they could just pretend it did not exist. There was one however, who felt quite at home in such a desolate, avoided place. He was a young man of about eighteen years, of slender build and sun-tanned skin. A calloused hand reached up to brush white locks out of stormy-grey eyes, which peered around the dark interior of the temple ruins. Yes, this place was as much the young man's home as the magnificent palace rising above the city of Memphis – visible even at KuruEruna's distance as a towering behemoth at the horizon – was to Egypt's Pharaoh. The young man gritted his teeth at this thought; thinking about the Pharaoh always put him on-edge.

"Patience, Bakura."

The voice echoed in his mind, apparently invoked by his thoughts. The young man – Bakura – rubbed his temples.

"Yes, yes, I know. 'Patience is a virtue'," he muttered, kicking at a small pebble and watching with little interest as it clicked across the temple's stone floor. "But it's not one I enjoy practicing." He sighed and sat down. Emptying his pockets and laying their contents out in front of him, he scowled with distaste at the meager collection. "That's it?" he asked the musty air. "This should last me all of one meal." Grey eyes rolled skyward. "Why me?" he wondered aloud.

Truth be told, it was getting severely difficult for Bakura to steal food from the neighboring marketplace. He had been there enough times that several people recognized him, and the thief did NOT want to risk getting caught. He knew he had made enough trouble for the Pharaoh already just by stealing, sneaking around, killing His guards in order to sneak into the palace; he did not wish to make more trouble than he had to. Not since his last encounter with the Pharaoh, many weeks ago...

Bakura shook his head firmly, clearing it. He couldn't dwell on that right now; he had to think of someplace he could go to get food without risking notice. KuruEruna was two days' walk from the main marketplace at Memphis, but it was the closest one besides that which Bakura was currently avoiding. Could he risk it? If he was caught, he would be punished severely. The likely punishment for his thievery would be to have his hands cut off... unless...

"Unless they recognize me," he murmured. Bakura was well aware of the rumors spreading about him. At one time, he would have laughed at them calling him "the demon of KuruEruna", but not anymore – not now that he had someone who wanted to help him. It had made him realize just how much he wished he could be like those people, and the fact that they shunned him because of the circumstances of his childhood stung him more than he cared to admit.

He remembered something the Pharaoh had said to him during one of their meetings; a round of their game, as He would have referred to it:

"Why are you shunned and forced into sneaking about like some sort of shadow? People fear what they do not understand."

Bakura supposed the king was right. The people saw his unnatural white hair, his animal-esque fangs, his haunted eyes... Bakura was someone to be feared. That he was the lone survivor of the massacre at KuruEruna did not help his case any.

Recognition came with a price; Bakura knew this. The punishment for someone such as himself – who had slain members of the royal guard – would be severe enough to merit a sentence straight from the Pharaoh's own lips. Bakura also knew that the Pharaoh would suffer greatly if such a choice were put upon Him.

If He sentenced Bakura to death, as He would be expected to, the Pharaoh would be crushed. He had admitted to Bakura during their last encounter that He loved the white-haired thief. Sentencing His love to death – piled on top of all His other responsibilities... Bakura cringed.

The other option was if the Pharaoh refused to pass the sentence. He would have to reveal His feelings toward Bakura... the Pharaoh, in love with a lowly peasant – a THIEF; it was unheard of. It would be an unspeakable outrage. Bakura knew all too well how hard the Pharaoh had to work for every bit of respect He had.

He had been born with red hair, the mark of a devil. His eyes were an unnatural amethyst color that shone with wisdom beyond His fifteen years. He was abnormally short in stature and, although He was slender as well, He had great strength – both physically and mentally. He had been a mere fourteen when He had taken the throne after the untimely death of His father. His people were wary of Him. With the constant threat posed by the Realm of Shadows and its magics, the young ruler quite had His hands full and, Bakura had to admit, He was doing an admirable job at keeping it under control.

To be concise: Bakura had no desire to be the cause of the Pharaoh's downfall. He let out a small chuckle at the irony of that thought – only weeks before, he had been ready to bury his dagger to its hilt in the Pharaoh's chest. But that was before he had realized that he – Ammut spare him – had feelings for the young king.

His musings were interrupted by the sudden loud rumbling of his stomach, which was accompanied by a sharp pain that he had been trying to ignore for the past few days. Letting out a growl of frustration, Bakura snatched up the largest onion out of the small array of food before him and bit into it forcefully, glad for the distraction. No matter how many times he tried to stop thinking about the Pharaoh, his mind drifted right back to Him. It wasn't that he was trying to deny the fact that he did, in fact, love the boy-king. It was simply that he thought about Him too often, and their distance made thinking about Him painful. And the last thing Bakura needed was more PAIN...

Scooping the edibles back into his pockets with the intention of saving them for later, despite his stomach's protests, Bakura stood and walked deeper into the ruins. It wasn't long until he began to feel the presence of the temple's wandering spirits. This was their home as much as it was Bakura's.

"I'm back," he murmured, the faintest trace of a smile flickering across his face as he felt the spirits swarm around him in welcome. They recognized him, and he knew that as long as they were around, no harm could come to him in this place.

He continued on to the inner chambers of the temple, his steps sure and confident. He knew this labyrinth better than any tomb he had ever scoured. Even in the darkness, he managed to find the room he sought, and he descended a small staircase into the open area.

It was a large, rectangular chamber with cracked, mud-brick walls scrawled with what Bakura assumed must be either protection charms or warnings; illiterate as he was, there was no way for him to be certain. It was dark and musty with age, and smelled faintly of a fire long put out – a smell that nicely accented the scorch-marks on the walls and ceiling. There was nothing particularly special or outlandish about the chamber itself in comparison with any other temple in Egypt. The oddity was in the chamber's contents.

At first glance, the stone figure in the room's center appeared to be the sarcophagus of one of Egypt's kings. However, it was misleading – the stone was merely that: a stone. There was no mummified body within its center. The importance of the tablet was due to the seven indentations in its surface – one for each of the seven sacred treasures: the Items of a Thousand Years. How ironic that Bakura, one who had suffered so greatly due to the Items' creation, was now the tablet's only guardian.

He approached the tablet in silence, and ran his hand along its smooth surface – a familiar gesture. He felt a great deal of animosity towards the tablet's purpose, and had admittedly, on several occasions, contemplated destroying the thing. However, for all he knew, the tablet was key to sealing the Realm of Shadows, and so he had appointed himself its impromptu protector... just in case. Thinking of that made him think that he should probably tell the Pharaoh about the tablet – perhaps He and His priests would be able to use it...

The only other noteworthy object in the room was a palm-sized, rectangular stone tablet, on which was engraved a creature that looked to be half human-esque, half serpent. This was actually a new addition to the chamber, which was made evident by the stone's lack of cracks and other blemishes. Bakura lifted it and grinned faintly at the visage.

"Good morning, Diabound," he murmured. At his words, the image on the tablet glowed dimly and suddenly, the creature depicted therein materialized before him. The being of his Ka – his soul – peered at him in silence, but Bakura could sense Diabound's desire to help him out of his current fix.

"No," he said quietly, answering its silent inquiry. "I already cause enough trouble when I'm on my own," he added. While Diabound's power would easily provide protection from angry merchants as he pilfered food, Bakura liked to hope that he himself was skilled enough to manage it without magic. Although... He glanced at Diabound. He had gone through a good deal of trouble to summon forth his own Ka creature. He had learned about them from hanging around the temples of Thebes; and with the knowledge of their creation had come another revelation: Ka creatures were key in the Games of Darkness.

"Correct me if I am wrong, Bakura, but unless I am mistaken, you have never, of yet, entered a Duel of Shadows?"

The Pharaoh's voice prodded at the back of the white-haired thief's mind. Bakura knew OF the Duels, however, he had never taken part in one. He had once considered challenging the Pharaoh Himself to one, until he had witnessed His power. Bakura had spied on the one of power during several of His Duels in the hopes of determining a weakness in Him that he could use to his own advantage. However, he had been greatly disappointed – the Pharaoh's opponents had barely lasted five minutes against His might. Bakura had decided then that the best course of action was to avoid the use of the Dark Magics altogether.

Bakura brushed his hair once more from his eyes and looked at Diabound. His stomach grumbled away unhappily, and he was seriously beginning to consider accepting Diabound's assistance when he was startled by a sound behind him.

Whirling around, storm-colored eyes flickered about, looking for something – anything – amiss in the chamber. He could see nothing. However...

'The spirits...' he mused. 'They sense something.' It was true; he could feel their familiar energy, and the spirits were on guard at the disturbance. Bakura bristled as he felt eyes on him. There was something in the room with him, he was certain of it. 'How could anyone have come in here without my notice?' he thought, furious with himself for not being more careful. He had probably been followed... somebody must have seen him. It was the only plausible explanation he could think of.

Something moved out of the corner of his eye, and he spun around, simultaneously drawing his familiar scorpion-tailed dagger from the folds of his cloak. Diabound moved closer to him, ready to defend or attack on Bakura's command. Bakura saw the movement again, and this time he noticed the air shimmering, mirage-like, beside one of the room's pillars. He narrowed his eyes and tensed, gripping his dagger so hard that his knuckles turned white. The thing moved to his left, and he lunged for it. The blade met only air, but Bakura was on to its movements now, and he ducked as it flew at him from the opposite side.

"DIABOUND!" he shouted, slashing at the thing again; this time, he must have made a hit – the thing gave a hellish shriek and slid away. "Help me corner it," he ordered the creature of his Ka, and Diabound immediately moved to block the attacker's progress. The thing swooped at Bakura once again; it seemed hell-bent on catching him off-guard. 'So much for being safe in the temple,' he thought bitterly, dodging the assault and rolling out of the way as the thing doubled back.

This time, instead of trying to attack Bakura head-on, however, the thing paused. Bakura felt the spirits around him, all of which had previously been swirling about in disarray, suddenly calm down. Confused, he glared at the thing before him, and suddenly choked back a gasp. The spirits were gathering around it, and it seemed to be drawing energy from them. Bakura took a step backward despite himself. 'What in the world is going on?' he thought, bewildered. The thing – previously no more than a ripple in the air – suddenly began to take on a shadowy form. Bakura wasn't sure what was going on, but he got the distinct feeling that letting the thing go through with its little ritual wasn't a good plan.

Dashing forward with as much speed as he could muster, Bakura drew his arm back and stabbed straight down into what he assumed was the thing's chest. He was shocked at how easily he had managed it, but his glee was short-lived. 'It's not screaming or bleeding...'

Shadowy hands shot forward so suddenly that the thief had no time to react; they clamped onto his arms with a stony grip, and Bakura gasped as he felt a frigid air fill the room. He struggled against the thing, but somehow he was having difficulty concentrating; it was as if the chill of the air had permeated his mind as well. He tried to call to his ally,

"Dia... bound..." he choked weakly. He realized with a start that the thing was draining his energy, the same way it had drained the spirits'. He renewed his struggle, until a voice invaded his thoughts.

"It's no use trying to fight me. Your negative emotions only feed my power."

Naturally, Bakura had no intention of just giving up a fight, but he had to admit his efforts did not seem to be very effective. 'Pharaoh, that pendant of yours could be of some help right about now,' he thought bitterly, referring to the Puzzle of a Thousand Years. But that gave him an idea...

He allowed Diabound to return to the stone tablet, releasing both the energy and concentration Bakura had, up to that point, required in order to maintain the creature's presence. Utilizing that energy, Bakura used what small knowledge he had been able to attain about entering the Realm of Shadows to drag himself – and his attacker – into the darkness.

At first, it seemed as though he had managed to detach the other from himself, but his victory didn't last long. He heard the thing chuckle darkly in the back of his mind.

"An interesting attempt," it sneered, "but not very well-thought-out." It laughed, mocking him. "I was born of the darkness, and you have just entered my Realm."

Bakura scowled. "What do you want from me? I'm just a thief; I have nothing of value."

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong, child of KuruEruna," it crooned, and Bakura involuntarily shuddered at the title it had chosen to give him. It laughed again. "Not very fond memories, are they?" it asked, reading the thief's thoughts.

"Just answer the question," Bakura bit out. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he heard the thing whisper to him,

"Your body is plenty valuable to a creature with none of its own." Bakura tensed.

"What are you getting at?"

"Simple-minded fool," it hissed. "Tell me, child of KuruEruna, have you ever heard of a person being possessed before?"

"You cannot possess me," Bakura scoffed. "All you can do is talk to me in my own head."

"A skeptic, are you? We will see, child of KuruEruna. We will see."

Bakura felt a strange sensation, then, as if he was being separated from his own body. He tried to fight against it, but to no avail. As the numbing cold closed in on him, he caught something that the other said:

"I gain strength from your misery, child of KuruEruna... and I will cause you GREAT misery..."

Everything faded from his senses, then – everything but the cold.

----------------------

The Pharaoh Atemu shot awake with a start and blinked startled amethyst eyes around His bedchamber. Nothing SEEMED amiss, but the boy king felt as though He should be concerned – about what, He was unsure.

Climbing out of bed, the Pharaoh gazed out the window; Ra, in His sun-boat, was just climbing over the horizon. Atemu allowed Himself a small smile. His kingdom was beautiful... He was willing to do just about anything to keep it so. His musings were interrupted by a knock on the room's ornate doors.

"Enter," He spoke quietly but firmly, and listened as the doors swung open; His attendants filed in and awaited his orders. Their arms were laden with myriad things; all of them for His use. At His nod, the attendants got to work, readying their king for the day ahead.

As they swathed Him in white linen, draped Him in indigo silk, and fastened Him with an assortment of gold ornaments, Atemu allowed His thoughts to wander; this would likely be one of few peaceful moments throughout the day.

Recalling bits and pieces of the dream He had been having, the fifteen-year-old wondered vaguely what all of it had meant. The details he could remember were rather vague – it had been cold, dark, musty... almost like a tomb. 'Or the Realm of Shadows,' He thought, inwardly cringing. The dream must have been terrible if it was enough to wake Him from a sound sleep...

Sighing resignedly, He decided that it would be in His best interest if He spoke to the High Priestess of Isis – Aishizu – and ask her to try to interpret it.

His attendants stepped back from Him, their tasks complete. Atemu slipped the chord of the Puzzle of a Thousand Years around His neck, feeling its familiar – although somewhat unwelcome – weight against His neck and chest. With a wave of His now-bejeweled hand, the servants bowed deeply and left Him.

Atemu released the breath He'd been holding and glanced once more out the window. Ra was fully visible in the distance now, and Atemu knew that He would be expected to appear outside His chambers soon.

'Time to hear the latest bad news, listen to everyone argue, get a headache, and attempt to retain my sanity...'

He strode to the door and, taking a deep breath, swung the door open and made His way to the main hall. There, He found His most trusted priests and advisors. Looking around, He took them in one by one, making sure everyone was present.

Seto was conversing quietly with Akunadin. The former wore a sour expression, one that Atemu was becoming more and more accustomed to seeing on the young man, much to His dislike. The latter looked grave as usual, and Atemu wondered vaguely if the older man ever thought of anything besides the Games of Darkness. 'They are certainly taking their toll on us all,' He admitted to Himself grimly.

As His eyes continued to sweep the room, He saw Aishizu having what looked to be a rather heated debate with Shaadi and Karim. Atemu could easily guess the general topic – the Games of Darkness. It was everyone's main concern, and yet nobody could seem to agree on a solution to the problem.

Shaking His head, He glanced at the remaining occupants of the room. His chief advisor, Shimon Muran was speaking to a young Greek man named Jono. Jono, while a foreigner in the sense that he was not of Egyptian descent, was a person that Atemu trusted, and whose opinions He valued highly. Atemu was pleased to note that Jono looked to be in good health – Atemu hoped that meant that the blonde had been successful during his trip to the neighboring Hittite Empire.

Finally, His amethyst gaze came to rest on Mahaado. Mahaado was, by far, the quietest of the lot and had a tendency to keep to himself. Atemu knew that he possessed great power, and that he was in the process of teaching a young girl – Mana – the arts of the Dark Magics. Atemu knew little about Mahaado's true nature, though He had known the young man since they were both children. But he was incredibly loyal to the royal family, and Atemu knew he was trustworthy.

The talking in the room stropped abruptly as Atemu swept into the room. Taking His place at the head of the chamber and sitting upon His gilded throne, He looked out over the assembled group, which had collectively bowed upon His entry. Atemu gave the word to rise, and there was an awkward silence before Jono finally stepped forward. Atemu saw Seto's frown deepen considerably, but said nothing as Jono bowed before Him.

"Good morning to you, my liege. May you have the blessings of the gods in life, health, and prosperity, forever," the blonde said softly. Atemu smiled faintly at his nervousness.

"Good morning and blessings to you as well," He returned calmly. "I see that you have arrived back safely from your journey. Am I to assume that things went well?" Jono chanced a careful glance at his king.

"Things went well in that I was not discovered," he said quietly, "but less-than-well in what I found out myself." Atemu sighed. He should have known better than to get His hopes up...

"Very well. Tell us what you know."

Jono spent the better part of an hour explaining all that he had learned upon journeying to the Hittite Empire. The Hittites were among Egypt's strongest enemies, and Jono had gone there to gather information concerning their progress in the Dark Magics. As it turned out, from what Jono reported, they were gaining proficiently and were well on their way to posing a threat. Atemu resisted the strong urge to rub His temples. Jono was still speaking.

"...but we have the Items, your majesty, so –"

"'So' nothing," Seto cut in, and Jono scowled at the interruption. "The Items of a Thousand Years are powerful, yes, but they are not invincible. Besides," he sneered in disgust, "only a coward would hide behind a trinket rather than using his own power." Jono opened his mouth to protest, but it was then that Mahaado spoke up for the first time in a long while.

"What I believe Seto means," he said quietly, addressing Jono more than anyone else, "is that – while the Items are a valuable asset – we must not rely solely on them; we must continue our own progress in the Dark Games in order to meet this challenge."

"I said precisely what I MEANT, Mahaado," Seto hissed, cerulean eyes narrowed dangerously. Mahaado nodded once and fell silent once more. Jono visibly seethed, but wisely held his tongue.

Atemu gave them a reproachful glance, amethyst eyes dark and serious. "We must not begin to quarrel amongst ourselves," He said firmly, and, if He said so Himself, reasonably. "We will be all the more vulnerable if separated than if we are unified." Even as He spoke, Atemu wondered if His words would have any effect on His comrades. He was not trying to chastise them; He just wanted their cooperation. Sighing, He finally gave in to His frustration, rubbing His temples in annoyance. His golden crown suddenly seemed twice as heavy on His head, and it did nothing to alleviate His tension. He could feel everyone's eyes on Him, waiting, and He felt a sudden pang of resentment. Why did He have to be the one to always maintain composure and control the situation? Why couldn't He be allowed to voice His agitation?

Straining to keep His voice steady, He asked, "Does anyone have any GOOD news to report?" He saw them glance amongst themselves, and felt a sinking feeling in the pit of His stomach. 'They will lose faith in me,' He thought distractedly, praying silently to the gods to give Him the words He needed to keep His comrades' – His friends' – spirits up. He eyed them all carefully, before speaking again.

"I mean it. ANYTHING," He said, meeting each of their eyes, in turn. The silence in the room was so heavy that Atemu could hear His own pulse pounding in His ears. Finally, an idea came to Him. He got to His feet, and His company bowed before Him.

"You may rise," He said softly, and they did as He said. Taking a deep breath, He spoke once more.

"I am going to learn to summon the gods."

There was a collective gasp, and they stared at Him in shock, temporarily forgetting whose presence they were in. Atemu knew what they all were thinking – His own father had not been able to summon the gods until shortly before His death. How could Atemu – at a mere fifteen years old – possibly accomplish such a feat? He had enough difficulty summoning normal-strength creatures, although He was good at masking the fatigue it caused Him. He had a single moment of self-doubt. 'What if I cannot? What if I fail them?' He thought frantically, wondering why in the world He had said something so foolish.

"If you truly love me as you say you do... you will find a way."

Atemu nearly jumped, He was so startled by the words that flooded His mind. 'Where did THAT come from?' He asked Himself, shocked. 'Bakura...' His heart pounded. He had, admittedly, been trying desperately not to think of the white-haired thief who had, in essence, stolen His heart. He missed the other terribly, and it hurt Him to think of how Bakura must still be suffering, day in and day out, waiting for Him to fulfill the vow He had made during their last encounter. 'I promised Bakura I would find a way to put a stop to this madness... and...'

"I will," He said aloud, His voice unwavering. 'For Bakura... and for my friends... and for all of Egypt, I will summon the gods.'

Seto alone met His gaze as His eyes swept over those assembled again. The brunette gave Him an approving nod, and Atemu felt as if a small part of His burden had been lifted. His cousin had faith in Him. Bakura had faith in Him. And as for the others... 'I will prove to them that I can do this,' He told Himself firmly.

The trance they seemed to have fallen into dissipated a second later, and there was a chaotic moment where they all tried to speak at once. Once Atemu had successfully quieted them, it was Shimon who stepped forth to speak for them all.

"Majesty," he hesitated, and Atemu knew exactly what His mentor wanted to say, but dared not.

"You think I should reconsider." The older man shifted nervously. Atemu sighed. "It is as I thought. No matter; I have already made my decision. I WILL summon the gods." He stared His mentor down, and the man finally looked down and away.

"As your majesty wills it, so it shall be," he said quietly. "I shall inform the Keepers of the Tablets." Atemu nodded curtly, His amethyst eyes smoldering with determination. Once He set His mind to something, there was no way He would allow Himself to fail. His comrades knew this. He would summon the gods, or He would die trying. 'And death is certainly an option when dealing with the Realm of Shadows...'

"If there is nothing left to report..." He waited, and when nobody spoke, continued, "...then you are free to leave." Remembering, suddenly, His dream, He added, "Oh, and Aishizu, if I may have a word with you?" The one He addressed bowed low as the rest moved to the door. As she approached Him, Atemu noticed that Seto stopped Jono at the door, and said something to which Jono reacted by attempting to attack the priest. Before Atemu could shout at them, His guards appeared and pried the furious blonde from Seto's person; Jono was shrieking curses at the brunette, who looked unconcerned, if not a bit disgusted.

Giving Aishizu an apologetic glance, and murmuring for her to wait just a moment, Atemu made His way over to the feuding pair; His guards were having a difficult time holding on to Jono's thrashing form. Moving so that He stood directly between the two, He motioned for the guards to let the Greek free. Out of their grasp, Jono lunged for the brunette a second time, only to jump back as it suddenly registered that Atemu was standing in his path.

Eyes wide with a combination of fury and panic, Jono dropped to his knees at Atemu's sandal-clad feet, stammering apologies. Behind Him, Atemu felt rather than saw Seto sweep from the room. He considered ordering his return, but thought better of it. 'It will be better to deal with them separately.'

Assuring His protectors that the danger had passed, they moved outside once again, and Atemu took the partial-privacy to His advantage. Kneeling down so that He was at Jono's level, He placed a hand on the other's shoulder, and Jono's head snapped up in surprise. Atemu could see the terror in his eyes.

"Be calm, my friend," He said softly. "No harm will come to you."

Jono visibly relaxed, although he still held a guarded look. Diverting his eyes, he said, "I apologize, my Pharaoh... I became possessed by a furious demon..."

"What did Seto say to you?" The boy immediately tensed again, and Atemu narrowed His eyes. He was aware of the mutual dislike the two had for each other, but had never seen them come so close to exchanging blows. He felt His patience begin to wane. "Out with it, Jono. What words did he speak to invoke such a demon?"

"He... he called me..." Jono choked on his words, and Atemu waited while he regained his composure. "I know it is a stupid, childish thing to get upset over, my liege, but he called me a worthless commoner, and said that... that I had no right to be serving your majesty... and that I am undeserving of your majesty's respect..." he trailed off, and Atemu could tell that he felt foolish for his outburst. Frowning, He tilted Jono's face so that He could look into the boy's eyes as He spoke.

"Listen to me, Jono. Do not mind what my fire-tempered cousin says, and remember always that he does not speak for me, nor are his feelings necessarily reminiscent of my own. Do you understand?" Jono nodded, looking away. Atemu sighed. 'I will have to talk to Seto about this... I cannot afford for the two of them to have such outward-animosity toward each other. They need to be working together in order to keep a step ahead of our enemies...'

Aloud, He said, "Very well. You may go." The blonde murmured his thanks as he bowed himself from the room. Atemu stood, and moved to return to His throne, when His eyes fell on Aishizu, who was waiting patiently for Him. He had completely forgotten...

"Apologies, Aishizu." The young woman bowed.

"It is no trouble, your highness. How may I assist you?" Atemu smiled faintly.

"It was my hope that you might try to interpret a dream that came to me this past night," He explained. Aishizu nodded emphatically.

"Of course, my liege. If I may be excused for just a moment to gather up something to write with...?" At the king's nod, the young woman exited the room, returning in a trice with several wax tablets and a case full of reed pens.

He spent the next half an hour going over His dream with Aishizu. From what she could gather, it seemed as though the plaguing thoughts of the Dark Games were beginning to take shape in His sleep as well.

"You said that it was dark, and that it smelled faintly like fire in the chamber?" the priestess questioned. Atemu nodded the affirmative. Aishizu frowned. "It could have been any of countless temples throughout the land, if it was even a real place at all..." she mused aloud. "Can you think of any details concerning the interior, majesty?"

Atemu thought for a moment. For a second, He thought He saw something resembling a snake, but an instant later, the image was gone. Frowning, He shook His head, fire-colored locks brushing His cheeks slightly with the movement. "Naught but what I've told you already," He admitted. 'A temple... a dark temple that smells like fire...' But there had been no recent reports of any burnings in the main temples, and He had not visited any others...

"I was barely five years old when I watched your father's army invade and mercilessly SLAUGHTER my village and its people..."

Atemu's eyes widened as He heard Bakura's voice again. 'KuruEruna...' He realized with a sinking feeling. 'The temple at KuruEruna... the birthplace of the Items...' Shaking His head firmly to clear it, He thanked Aishizu, and told her that He wished to think on it. Nodding her understanding, she gathered her tools and left the chamber. When she was gone, Atemu called upon one of His attendants. 'Might as well get this over with before it has the chance to escalate further...'

"Fetch Seto for me," He said calmly. "Tell him he is to meet with me in my chambers. There are pressing matters I must discuss with him." That said, the servant scurried off to fulfill his master's request, and Atemu made His way quickly to His rooms.

Seto arrived moments later, looking none-too-pleased at having been dragged away from his duties on such little notice, but he managed a courteous bow and greeting for the boy king. At the High Priest's scowl, Atemu narrowed His eyes.

"I do not believe for one instant that you are unaware of my reasons for calling you here, Seto." The taller figure shifted irritably.

"If this is about that fool, Jono..."

"I want you to listen to me, cousin, and I want you to heed my words," Atemu said, letting His voice fall dangerously low. "Jono's family may not be of Egyptian descent, nor of upstanding upbringing, but he was nevertheless born in this country, and he has worked hard to gain the place he now holds in my court. You, of all people, should understand how difficult it was for Jono to fight his way here. But still, you have the audacity to attempt to speak for me and tell him that he is undeserving of my respect..." He saw the young man's startling cerulean eyes flicker slightly; with what emotion, He could not discern. The brunette cleared his throat.

"Is there anything else, my liege? Or have you fully vented your grievances?" Atemu's eyes flashed angrily.

"You dare speak to me in such a manner after your actions this morning?!" Seto met the king's gaze evenly, and Atemu felt His stomach tighten.

"You did not call me here merely to discuss Jono," Seto said, knowingly. "You called me here to discuss that THIEF of yours. Am I wrong?" Atemu glared at him, amethyst eyes furious. 'How DARE he...' Seto smiled smugly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It is as I thought. However, your majesty will be disappointed to know that he has not shown himself since last he was here." The priest motioned the Pharaoh's room. Atemu bit His lip. Seto continued, "If I may be permitted to say so, I think it better that he stays away from Memphis – more specifically, the palace. May the gods forbid it should he actually manage to... ah... harm your majesty in some way..."

"ENOUGH!" Atemu roared, and Seto blinked, surprised by the unusual outburst. Atemu was livid, breathing raggedly with barely-suppressed rage. "What do you know of the cursed village of KuruEruna?" He practically snarled, and Seto frowned, bewildered by the sudden change of subject.

"KuruEruna...? What does that have to do with—"

"I suggest you answer me, COUSIN," Atemu hissed, "or I may feel inclined to have you punished for your insubordination." Seto gawked at Him in shock.

"You wouldn't..."

"Try me."

They stared each other down. Seto had not seen his king look so angry before in all his life. Furthermore, his smaller cousin had NEVER threatened him with punishment, even though Seto challenged His authority on a regular basis – Atemu knew that the priest was just testing his boundaries. And yet, here He was, looking as if He wished with all His soul that Seto be thrown to the Devourer... and suddenly it came to him: 'He... He is in love with the thief...' Seto, stunned, bowed his head as he had been taught since childhood, breaking their eye-contact, and spoke quietly – respectfully.

"I apologize, Highness. I did not know that... he meant so much to you." He heard Atemu let out a long, shaky breath, and chanced a look at the Pharaoh. He had turned away; His eyes were unfocused, staring through the wall of the chamber as if it was merely air. Seto heard His voice choke faintly,

"You mustn't—"

Seto understood instantly – Atemu feared that Seto would use this new knowledge against Him somehow. Seto scowled. 'He knows I would never...' Glancing at the boy, however, he had his doubts. 'Or maybe He doesn't.'

"I will not tell a soul, Atemu. You have my word." The boy's slight form shuddered, and He sank onto the bed, holding His head in His hands. He felt sick with dread. Seto hesitated, uncertain of what he should do; the boy had not acted this vulnerable in front of him since just before He had been crowned King. They had both been very different people, then. But Atemu had always had a soft-spot for the lower classes, and Seto knew that it pained Him that He had fallen in love with someone He was practically forbidden to care for. 'He is a lord among men, and yet He cannot have what He wants...'

Atemu ran jeweled fingers through His hair, suddenly hating Himself. 'How can I hope to save Bakura from this when I cannot even protect myself from it?' He felt all of His painstakingly-crafted control slipping through His fingers as easily as if it was the sand that covered Egypt's expanse. "How?" He asked, unaware even that Seto still stood in His presence. "How can all that I have worked for come to this...?"

"There are still things that can be done, my Pharaoh," Seto said, moving to stand beside the boy. "You said yourself that you wished to summon the gods. And you will – I know that you will. You said that you will... were you not sincere?" There was pain in the amethyst depths of Atemu's eyes when He looked up at His cousin.

"I meant it," He said resolutely. "I want things to go back to the way they were... I don't like to see you like this, Seto," He admitted His earlier concern, and Seto blinked, startled once again by the king's strange words.

"'Like' what?" he asked, confused.

"You never look happy anymore." Seto felt a slight pang of guilt for making Atemu worry about him on top of all His other concerns – he often forgot just how young He was – but did not allow his feelings to show. Instead, he snorted derisively, and tried to get the boy to start thinking about His duties again.

"That is the least of our troubles, cousin. What of KuruEruna? You wanted to know something about it?" Atemu nodded, allowing Seto to distract Him from His previous stream of thought, and took a deep breath. Seto waited patiently as He composed Himself.

Finally, the boy king got to His feet. No sooner had He opened His mouth to speak than a frantic pounding sounded at the door. Glancing at Seto – who shrugged his shoulders – He called out, "Enter!" and the doors swung open.

Jono dashed into the room, followed by several attendants, and had to catch his breath before gasping, "Your majesty, I have devastating news... I have just received word that His majesty's – the deceased Lord Akunamkanon's – tomb has been looted." As Jono made a sign with his hands to ward off evil, Atemu felt Himself go pale as His heart pounded in His ears. 'Father...'

"Damnation!" Seto roared. "When? HOW?!" Jono bowed nervously.

"T-the soldiers said that they discovered it s-shortly after d-dawn..." He stammered, then let out a startled yelp as Seto grabbed him by the front of his garb, shaking him fiercely, cerulean eyes alight with fury.

"What was taken?! Have they secured the tomb?! Has any move been made to track-down the thief?!" The brunette tried to ignore the Pharaoh's visible discomfort towards his choice of words. Jono looked as if he wanted to die, and Seto let him go, knowing that frightening the boy further would get him nowhere. Jono swallowed and managed to choke out his next words, as if it caused him pain to say them.

"A g-great deal of gold and other precious metals were t-taken... there are soldiers s-swarming the area as w-we speak... b-but..." he struggled to spit the words out, "His l-lordship's sarcophagus was opened... and... His mummy is... i-it is gone..." Atemu felt His blood run cold; saw the color drain from Seto's face.

"Impossible..." Seto whispered. Jono shook violently, and collapsed to his knees just as Karim dashed into the room.

"My liege," the priest gasped, "the culprit has been sighted!" Atemu snapped immediately to attention, fighting through the haze that had enveloped His mind.

"Has he been apprehended?" Karim shook his head fervently.

"The soldiers, my lord... they cannot get near him! He must be some sort of demon... he seems to be well-versed in the Dark Magics. He is on his way to the palace at this very moment."

"Assemble the other priests in the main hall. We will put an end to this foolishness immediately! Tell the soldiers to concentrate on protecting the civilians." Atemu threw His arm to the side, snapping His cape out behind Him with a flourish. "NOW!"

----------------------

Cold.

Living in Egypt, Bakura did not have much experience with cold, although he had felt it once or twice in his life. However, it would be a far cry from the truth to say that he was at all fond of the sensation.

"Ugh..."

Heavy-lidded grey eyes blinked open as Bakura came to. It was dark, and he could see nothing, but from the familiar feeling and smell, he knew immediately that he was in the temple of KuruEruna.

At once, he remembered the events of that morning. Stormy eyes widened, and Bakura tried to move, but sank back to the stone floor with a pained moan as his aching muscles and stiffened joints protested the abrupt movement.

"Maybe it was just a nightmare..." His stomach took that moment to rumble painfully, reminding him also of his meager breakfast. "I've got to eat something..."

Wincing, he lay still, wondering what to do. He moved his hand with the intention of checking his pockets for the food he had stashed-away earlier, when he felt something gauze-like against his palm. Confused, and with marginal difficulty, he managed to get his hand within sight and blinked. 'A... bandage?'

There was no blood on the cloth, nor did he seem to have any more of the material on his person. He stared at the bandage for a moment, then, fear twisting his stomach in knots, brought it closer to his face and sniffed at it. He let out a startled cry and flung the thing as far from him as he could.

"Natron..." he choked. "It smells like natron..."

"It IS natron."

Bakura moved again, ignoring the pain that shot through him, and managed to climb his way into a sitting position. Looking around in confusion, his eyes finally adjusted to the dim interior of the room. He could not believe what he was seeing...

There was gold – coins, jewelry, figurines, dishware – scattered across the floor of the chamber; more gold than Bakura had laid eyes on in his entire life. A shadowy figure was seated upon a large cloth sack, which was, presumably, filled with more of the stuff. Bakura recognized it as the... thing... from that morning.

"You..." he growled, "what are YOU doing here?!" The figure laughed.

"Your body needed a rest, child of KuruEruna," it said, sounding amused. After a pause, it inquired, "Are you not going to ask what all this gold is doing here, why your body aches all over, and why you were clutching a bandage covered in embalming salt?" It was obviously enjoying the fact that it knew what had transpired, while Bakura was – both literally and figuratively – in the dark.

Narrowing his eyes, and feeling the knots in his stomach tighten still further, Bakura managed to sneer at the thing. "Why don't you just tell me, if it's so important to you?" It laughed once more, and Bakura wished he had the energy to attack it.

"Do you not remember what happened?" When Bakura refused to satisfy the thing with a reply, it continued, "You just returned from a battle." Bakura looked at it closely, and felt it smile in his mind. He shuddered.

'That explains the pain, at least,' he thought darkly, 'but what about the gold and the gauze?'

"Ah, so the child IS curious! Well, now..."

"Stop mocking me and explain yourself!" Bakura demanded, anger boiling inside him. 'This is ridiculous...'

"Tsk, tsk... have some PATIENCE, child of KuruEruna." Bakura paled. "That is what the Pharaoh told you, is it not? You should heed His words..."

"EXPLAIN YOURSELF!!!"

"Surely you can guess," its voice dripped with malicious glee, "where the treasure and the bandage may have come from?"

Bakura twitched involuntarily. "A sepulcher," he muttered.

The figure rose and swept toward him. "And whose crypt might you have wanted to raid?"

Bakura's heart pounded in alarm. He had never broken into the tomb of anyone ranked higher than a minor prince. He was hungry, not suicidal. "D-don't you pin this on me! You were the one who did... whatever the hell it was that you did!" It chuckled, coming still closer, and suddenly, for the first time, Bakura could see the thing clearly.

It was tall with blood-red hair, a dark cloak, and a mask covering its face. Half of the mask was white; the other was red and set within it, where normally there should have been an eye, was an exact replica of the Eye of a Thousand Years – the emblem featured on each of the Items. Bakura shrank back from the thing despite himself.

"Might the name 'Akunamkanon' ring a bell, child?" Bakura gaped at the thing.

"I-impossible! His tomb is swarming with royal soldiers; there's no way..."

"It's true!" The creature flung its arms up in a gesture of grandeur and began to speak as if it were relating some tale out of a book. "You made your way past the guards – backed, of course, by that wonderful creature of yours... what do you call it? Diabound?" Bakura felt himself go numb.

"...No..."

"You took as much gold as you could carry, but you were not satisfied by merely that. Oh no," it chortled, "you still wanted revenge on the one who had wronged you and your people. So you opened Akunamkanon's sarcophagus and hauled out His mummified body." As it spoke, Bakura could see the events unfold before him as if he had witnessed them himself. He buried his face in his hands, trying to banish the images.

"No... no! I didn't do anything! You were in control of my body... YOU did all of this!"

"But still, you were not finished," it pressed on, ignoring his protests. "You needed to show that little brat Atemu just what you thought of Him and His father..." Bakura's eyes widened.

"You didn't..."

"You dragged Akunumkanon's body all the way to the great palace at Memphis, and right into the main hall, where the Pharaoh and His priests were waiting for you." It was practically shouting now, and Bakura covered his ears, trying to block out the horrible words. "You taunted the one of power; you angered Him greatly, I think, because He accepted readily when you challenged Him to a Duel..."

"Atemu knows it was not me!" Bakura cried out, suddenly. "He would never fall for such a trick!"

"And why wouldn't He?!" The creature bellowed. "It was YOUR body; YOUR mouth and voice that spoke to Him; YOUR eyes that glared at Him; YOUR Ka that attacked Him..." Stormy eyes stared up at the figure.

"He... you didn't... you... He isn't..." The creature gave a disappointed sigh.

"No, Atemu is still alive. Troubling, that one. I was not aware that He could summon the gods..."

Bakura's mind raced. 'He's alive... I can still go to Him and tell Him that it was not me...'

"You will do no such thing," the thing said, reading his thoughts again. "I said I would make you miserable, and that is what I intend to do. Your agony gives me power."

"What ARE you?" Bakura asked, his voice belying his fear as it shook unsteadily.

"I am called Zork Necrophidius." The creature ran skeletal fingers along Bakura's cheek, and Bakura flinched away, jarring his injuries and eliciting a pained cry from his lips. "And you will do whatever I give you permission to do, child of KuruEruna. You are no longer your own person. You and I are destined for greatness, but we cannot reach power so long as that foolish Pharaoh stands in our way. No," it murmured, "He must be removed..."

Bakura felt cold again. "What do you want?" he asked plaintively. Zork smirked at him.

"The dark power of the Items of a Thousand Years and control over the Realm from which they took form. What else?"

Darkness crept into the edges of Bakura's vision once more, as Zork seized control of his body. He could hear Atemu's words in his mind; could see the boy king's beautiful amethyst eyes staring into his own.

"I will find a way, Bakura... it will be dangerous, but I will find a way."

Bakura suddenly wished he had not asked so much of Atemu. 'He does not deserve this...' he thought desperately. 'His burdens are terrible enough...'

"Do you... really love me?"

"Yes, Bakura. I will say it again: I love you."

Bakura squeezed his eyes shut against the pain his Pharaoh's words brought forth. 'How can He love me? I've done nothing but hurt Him...'

"And you will continue to hurt Him," Zork reminded him, sounding far too delighted about the idea.

Bakura sank into the darkness as his control was finally broken. His last conscious thought was of the fire-haired king. 'Atemu... please, be safe. May the gods watch over and protect you...'

----------------------

For the second time that day, Atemu had retired to His chamber and sent for Seto. Now, Seto leaned silently against one wall as Atemu paced around the room in agitation. Cerulean eyes followed the shorter one's progress to and fro, until their owner thought he would go mad with the wait. The afternoon's events had worn his patience thin and, Pharaoh or not, his young cousin was keeping him from his duties.

"If you are quite through wearing a hole in the floor, I would like to request your majesty's permission to lend my aid to the search for Bakura," he said primly. Atemu whirled around.

"That was NOT Bakura!" Seto sighed.

"Yes, I believe you have mentioned that once or twice. However, we have no proof of the contrary, and we won't until we manage to capture him." Atemu let out a wordless sound of frustration and resumed His pacing. After a moment, He snapped,

"Fine. Go. But send for Mahaado. I want to know how much damage was caused to my father's mummy and what preparations he is making for the reburial..."

Seto caught Atemu's shoulder as the boy passed, and the latter spun around, shocked at the intrusion. He was about to reprimand Seto for his blatant disrespect when their eyes met. Atemu's voice failed Him.

"He has hurt you deeply, cousin," Seto said quietly. "And while you put on a good show in front of the others, I know better. It won't do for you to be in such a state with so much trouble brewing both within and around this land." The young Pharaoh shivered. Seto continued, "We will find him and—"

"Do not harm him... I wish to speak with him."

"He will be brought before your majesty as unhurt as possible, but you know he will struggle, especially if he does not know what is going on. Although I doubt that is the case..."

"There must be an explanation," Atemu's voice was distant. "Those eyes..." He looked up at His cousin. "Those were not Bakura's eyes. Bakura's eyes always have a haunted look behind whatever other emotion they display. Those eyes were just... They were not the same."

"I will find him, and we will know." Atemu nodded reluctantly. Seto squeezed the boy's shoulder very slightly, the action so barely-perceptible that Atemu was unsure whether or not He had actually felt it.

Seto watched the boy's face for a moment, taking in the hurt and anger in His eyes. 'Curse His fate for grieving Him so...' He turned to go. "I will send Mahaado."

"You have my thanks, Seto."

Seto bowed and took his leave.

Atemu continued His pacing until a knock sounded on His door.

"Enter."

Mahaado slid soundlessly into the room, and Atemu stopped pacing. Familiar as He was with the High Priest of Anubis, it would not do for Him to act childishly before him. Seto was one thing – he was a blood relative and disliked formalities. But Atemu knew how strongly Mahaado felt about proper etiquette, and so He deigned to act as He was expected to.

Mahaado bowed before Him. "Your majesty has requested my presence?" Atemu nodded and sat upon His bed to keep Himself from taking up His pacing once again. Mahaado reported on the matter of the reburial, and said that it was coming along fine. As he spoke, Atemu could see that the priest was trying hard to conceal the concern he felt for the boy king, choosing his words carefully so as not to upset Him further.

When the priest had finished his report, Atemu could tell he was withholding something. "You have my permission to speak freely, Mahaado. What ails you?" The priest looked at Him hesitantly.

"I only wondered if your majesty worries that the thief will try to attack the new burial ground."

Atemu nodded slightly. He had thought of it.

"With... permission," Mahaado said quietly, "I could spin a trap for the thief..." Atemu gave him an inquisitive look, so Mahaado hurried on. "A false tomb," he said, "where the thief could suspect we were burying your majesty's father... but I would be waiting there to do battle with him."

Atemu observed him carefully. "You have witnessed the creature called Diabound's might. Do you believe you can defeat it? I will not put you at unnecessary risk..."

"If I release the Ring's full power, then yes, I am almost certain I can defeat Diabound."

"Its full power...?" Mahaado bowed slightly.

"I have sealed a good portion of its strength using my own magic for the sake of keeping my fellow priests and your majesty safe. Such power is difficult for me to control, but at a fake tomb, away from all of you..."

Atemu gave him a dark look. "And you are certain that you could defeat him without killing him?" Mahaado considered for a moment, then nodded and said carefully,

"It would be difficult, but I could do it if that is what your majesty wishes."

"Very well... you have my permission to set this trap, if only to lure the evil one away from my father's true resting place. But take care. Do not do battle unless you absolutely MUST, and please bring him back alive. Am I understood?"

Mahaado saluted, bowed, and said, "Your majesty has been quite clear. I will do my best."

"That is all I ask."

And so Atemu was left alone again.

Letting out a sigh of frustration, He moved to His window and peered out over the city of Memphis. He was worried. He worried for Bakura, for His friends, for His people, for His father's spirit, and for His own life. He felt as though each decision He made put everyone in more danger. He sat on the window-seat and rested His aching head against the cool stone of the window's frame, closing His eyes and letting the afternoon breeze blow over His face as He tried to think clearly.

"Why...?"

Why would Bakura attack Him? It did not make any sense...

"I thought he agreed to let me take care of all of this..."

And then there were those eyes... those inhuman eyes that were so unlike Bakura's own...

"And Diabound," He reminded Himself. How had Bakura managed to learn how to invoke Ka creatures? And how had He produced one so powerful?

The strain of these unanswered questions on His mind was maddening. Atemu massaged His temples. He hated this part – this was the part where He sat idly by and waited while His loyal servants and companions scoured the city in search of Bakura. Gods forbid the Pharaoh actually be allowed to aid in the search Himself... He clenched His fists. Young He may have been, but He was still the living god – the most powerful mortal in Egypt – and yet there was nothing He could do.

No longer caring who might hear Him, Atemu drew in a long breath and let it out in the form of a long, furious, wordless shout. Immediately, His guards rushed into the room, and He was made to dismiss them, saying that He had nearly nodded-off at His perch in the window and had almost fallen. He climbed back into the room to appease them, and the second they had left, He took up His pacing again, clasping His shaking hands behind His back.

He hadn't felt this helpless since the death of His father.

"And what did you do then?" He asked Himself aloud, willing Himself to remember how he had dealt with His fears. "You went to Seto," He reminded Himself after a moment. "And Seto told you that you were king, now, and that you must act the part." His pacing slowed. "Act the part," He whispered, stopping His movements altogether.

What sort of Pharaoh paced around His bedroom like a helpless child? 'A poor one,' He decided. And Atemu knew that He was not a poor Pharaoh. He was the mortal son of Amun, and the offspring of the great Pharaoh Akunamkanon. When there had been danger, His father had been right on the front lines with His own soldiers. Atemu would not hide within the shelter of the palace. He would take action, just as His father would have.

He steeled Himself – back straight, shoulders squared, head up, eyes hard – and swept from His room. Guards and court officials dropped to the ground as He passed. He moved through the main hall, servants and attendants prostrating themselves before Him. He had made His way all the way down the long set of stairs in front of the palace before Shaadi, Shimon, and Akunadin rushed over. The three bowed deeply, and Akunadin asked,

"What has happened, my liege?"

Atemu remained as composed as He could. "I am going to aid in the search for the one who has dared to desecrate my father's resting place." The trio gasped.

"Oh, my pharaoh, you mustn't," Shimon pleaded, terror evident in his voice. "If something were to happen to you..." Atemu knew what the man was getting at. He was young yet, and He had no heir. If something were to happen to Him, Egypt would have no Pharaoh. But be that as it may, He had already made His decision.

"I cannot just sit and wait for something to happen," He said firmly. "I must do something. I owe it to my people. They should not be living in fear. The sooner we can root out this evil, the sooner they can be at peace again." Akunadin sighed resignedly.

"My liege, you know that it is never wise to be rash. I am sure that your majesty has thought this out very thoroughly." Atemu nodded. Akunadin turned to Shimon. "I suppose there is no stopping Him then," he said softly, and Shimon looked up at Atemu mournfully.

"Please be careful, majesty," His advisor begged. Atemu nodded again.

"I am always careful, friend," He assured the man. Shaadi stepped forward, bowing.

"Majesty, please allow me to accompany you. You should not go alone..." Atemu hesitated, weighing His options.

On the one hand, it WAS dangerous for Him to go by Himself, but on the other hand, with Shaadi there, Atemu would not be able to speak to Bakura the way He wanted to. He would have to be alone with Bakura for that. His priest was waiting for an answer. Atemu sighed resignedly.

"Very well. We will search all of Memphis and the surrounding villages. If there is no trace of," He paused; hesitated again – He could not bring Himself to associate Bakura's name with the atrocity that had been committed. "If there is no trace of the evil one, then we shall return to the palace." That decided, Shaadi accompanied Atemu to the stables, and they left the palace on horseback.

'Bakura,' Atemu thought as He raced through the city streets, citizens scattering before Him, 'Please let there be an explanation... I do not want to believe that you have turned against me...'

----------------------

When next Bakura awoke, he knew at once that Zork had taken him into battle again. His chest felt heavy, as if there was a weight lying on top of him. Forcing himself into a sitting position, he surveyed his arms and legs – they were sore, but he could see no wounds. He felt weak, however, and light-headed; he still had not eaten, and he was certain that Zork had made him summon Diabound.

"Of course I did." The now-familiar voice floated to him from somewhere to his left. "I must say, that is quite a Ka you have... your creature has evolved. Apparently, it is capable of absorbing its opponents' traits..."

"What have you done?" Bakura was disgusted with how plaintive his voice sounded to his own ears. Zork chuckled.

"I've merely disposed of one of many nuisances. I'm sure you can figure out whom. I'll give you a hint: you have his blood on you, and you received a prize in return for your victory..."

Bakura's heart sank. Barely daring to breathe, he looked down to find the source of the weight on his chest.

Glaring up at him in the dim light of the temple was what Bakura vaguely recognized as the Ring of a Thousand Years. He made a choked sound, pulling the thing off and holding it at arm's length by its leather cord. The golden pointers jingled softly with the movement. Bakura stared.

"You... you killed one of Atemu's PRIESTS..." Zork cackled.

"Now, now, child. I didn't do anything. YOU were the one to kill that fool, Mahaado. That trinket of his will allow me to track the movements of the other Item-bearers. Terribly convenient..."

Bakura cradled the object to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut. 'Atemu... gods, Atemu, I'm so sorry...'

The air around him seemed to become heavy, and he opened his eyes in confusion. The Ring had begun to glow, and as he lifted it up to look more closely, all five of the pointers raised and pointed toward the northeast. Bakura's chest tightened. 'Atemu...' He could SENSE Him. He stared in disbelief at the gilded object in his hands.

"Isn't it a grand trick?" Zork asked, sounding thoroughly pleased. "Now I don't even need to try to find Him. He's out searching for you as we speak, and no doubt He will become careless and come without protection. And that is when you will strike Him down..."

"Atemu is never careless," Bakura snarled in His defense. Zork shrugged nonchalantly.

"We will see, child."

Bakura silently fumed. 'It's TRUE,' he told himself vehemently. 'Atemu would NEVER walk into a stupid trap like that. Surely He knows better than anyone what each of the Items is capable of. He will know that He can be found, and He will be cautious.'

"You hope."

Bakura glowered at Zork, hating everything the creature stood for. Zork gave him a feral grin.

"You do realize that this is entirely His fault."

Bakura snorted derisively. 'Liar.'

"I have no reason to lie to you, child of KuruEruna."

"You're just saying that because if I hate Atemu, then it will make you stronger and therefore make it easier for you to kill Him." The thing chuckled.

"You are too bright for your own good, child. No matter; there is more than one way to glean strength from you..."

Bakura did not like the sound of that one bit. He glanced at the golden object in his hands and gasped as the memory of the night the Items had been created suddenly came to him, vivid as it had been when it had first occurred. He saw his people being gathered up by Pharaoh's soldiers; saw them slaughtered before his eyes as he had so many times before...

The Ring clattered and rolled across the floor as he lost his grip on it, coming to rest at Zork's feet. He put a shaking hand to his forehead, its surface slick with perspiration. Zork began to chuckle, and the sound was amplified by the temple walls.

"Stop..."

The chuckling turned to full-blown laughter; the creature threw its head back, cackling insanely. Bakura stared at the thing, terror twisting his insides, the images of bloodshed still fresh in his mind.

"Stop it..."

"How easy it is to reduce you to this – a trembling child, indeed!" the creature gasped between fits of mirth. Bakura curled in on himself.

"Stop it... stop it... STOP IT!!!" he screamed, clutching his head in his hands, trying to banish the images; trying to block out the creature's mocking laughter.

"Admit it, child of KuruEruna – you know that child of a Pharaoh cannot help you. You KNOW!"

"YOU'RE LYING!!!"

"Am I?! Why hasn't He saved you yet, then? Why has He not taken you into the palace and kept you safe? Why has He not sealed the Realm of Shadows? Why has He left you at my mercy?" Bakura's eyes widened, despair in their stormy depths.

"He... He is trying... He promised... He..." Bakura choked, a sharp pain lancing through his chest. What if this creature was right? What if Atemu had said all those things just to gain his trust? What if He had said it just to keep Bakura from making trouble for Him?

"No..." he whispered, staring at the stone floor, shaking his head. "He wouldn't... Atemu isn't like that... He... I cannot begin to doubt Him now..."

"But you do," Zork crooned softly, making Bakura shiver. "You DO doubt Him, child of KuruEruna... why else would you be questioning His motives?" Bakura's head snapped up to stare at the creature in shock and fury.

"This is all YOUR fault! You are twisting the truth and trying to turn me against Him! You're MAKING me doubt Him!"

"How do you know I am lying? Have you any proof of the contrary?" Bakura took a deep breath and straightened his back, managing a contemptuous glare at Zork despite his want to rush to Atemu and demand the truth from Him...

"No more proof than you have of Atemu's motives. I have the benefit of knowing Him better than you." Zork smiled, then; a cruel, sadistic smile that Bakura could feel in his mind as well as see before his eyes.

"I have underestimated your loyalty to the boy, child of KuruEruna... but you will see in time; you will see that He is the one lying to you... But for now, I have more work for you to do. I believe it is about time to pay a visit to another of Atemu's priests, don't you?"

Before he could open his mouth to respond, Bakura felt – with mounting dismay – himself being forced out of his body once again. The thing had had a much easier time of it than it had before, and Bakura silently cursed himself for furthering its strength. His only hope now was that Atemu would be able to defeat Zork somehow.

'Atemu... you can't let Zork harm you... please, I don't care if you help me now... just protect yourself... You're the only one who can put a stop to all this... I don't want to be responsible for your death...'

----------------------

At Shaadi's urging, Atemu had returned to the palace at nightfall. He had not wished to, but He knew it was necessary. He had managed to convince His priest to let Him search further than He had intended, but by the day's end, duty overrode want. Atemu was back to feeling helpless.

And waiting.

But He refused to fall prey to His fear. Instead, He had ordered as many magical texts as could be carried brought to Him. Now, He secluded Himself in His chambers, pouring over passage after passage of information on the Realm of Shadows, its creatures, human Ba and Ka, and the rites of the gods. He had read the texts as a child, but had not understood their importance until recently. His eyes flickered across the papyrus, soaking up anything relevant to His dilemma that He could find.

He had managed to summon Obelisk when Bakura had stormed His palace. However, He had not done it consciously, and He could not remember for the life of Him how He had managed the feat. He had just set His sights on a promising-looking manuscript when the door to His chamber slammed open, scattering scrolls across the floor.

In one fluid motion, Atemu had rolled into a defensive stance, His ceremonial dagger balanced in His palm. But it was for naught – it was Seto who had interrupted His reading. Atemu sheathed His weapon and clambered to His feet, eyes narrowed.

"What were you THINKING, barging in here like that?!" He cried, storming over to His cousin. "With all that has been going on—"

"He killed Mahaado."

"—I would think that you would be a little more careful... WHAT?!" Atemu reeled back as if Seto had slapped Him. Now that He looked... Seto's face was ashen, the normally cold blue eyes filled with a fiery anger. The priest's fists were clenched at his sides, and he was shaking as he attempted to speak calmly to his king.

"That WRETCH killed Mahaado!" Atemu stared at him.

"But... how... when...?" He stammered. Seto's eyes flashed.

"The soldiers set up a sealing-tablet outside of the fake tomb," he spat. "The loser of the battle was to have their Ka sealed. It seems that Mahaado lost... but before he did, he merged with his Ka creature... and now HE has been sealed within the tablet."

"But... h-he told me... he told me that he was certain th-that he could defeat Diabound..."

"Well it appears that he was WRONG."

Atemu was stunned into silence as His cousin ushered Him to His bed, whereupon He sat down and waited for the priest to continue.

"Now," the taller Egyptian said, his voice low, "nobody has seen Bakura exit the false tomb. The entrance was buried, and we believe he is still trapped. Karim is overseeing the soldiers, and the entryway is being reopened. What are your orders?" Seto said this last with a hiss, staring Atemu straight in the eye. Atemu shrank from His cousin's furious gaze. "Well?!" Seto shouted.

Atemu knew what His cousin was asking of Him. He could either order Bakura brought to Him alive, or order him to be killed. Either way, His people would have to do ask He decreed. Seto wanted to know which was more important to Him – His people, or His love.

"Seto," He said, a pleading tone entering His voice. "It wasn't really him... I know it wasn't—"

"HOW?!" the other roared. "How do you know?!" he quieted, "You don't know, my Pharaoh – you DON'T." He looked at Atemu with scorn. "You have always been too trusting, Atemu," he said softly, "and look what is happening."

Atemu took in a deep breath and steeled Himself. "My orders," He said, looking at Seto with all the determination He could muster, "are to do all in your power to bring Bakura to me alive." Seto's eyes flashed and he opened his mouth to protest. "BUT," Atemu cut him off, "if you cannot do this, then... you must do what is necessary," He whispered.

Seto nodded, bowed stiffly, and stalked from the room. Atemu stumbled to His bed and sat down, holding His head in His hands.

Mahaado... dead. It seemed too unreal to be true. It was too horrible to be true.

"What is going on?" Atemu asked in a whisper. "Why...?"

"I said 'I love you'. Is it so hard to believe?"

"Why."

"That is your favorite question – a question that I, unfortunately, often have no answer for."

He remembered His earlier words to Bakura, and suddenly wished He'd not chastised the other for asking the question. He seemed to be asking Himself the same thing now, over and over, and it was not the least bit amusing.

He stood and moved to the window again, and watched as His soldiers milled about below. When would the evil one return? Would the soldiers be able to stop him? Atemu could only wait and see.

And as a rumbling sound reached His ears, He gripped the window's frame tightly, and looked in the direction of the temple in which the Tablets were kept. Narrowing His eyes as a feeling of foreboding crept over Him, He said softly,

"It's your turn... make your move."

End notes: Bwa. Hahaha. Hahahahahahahahaha.

::cough::

Yeah. Long. Angsty. Such a BITCH to write. XD; Hope that I didn't disappoint... T . T Please review and let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome!