Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Heart of a Dragon ❯ Lost ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or Dragonheart; they both belong to their respective owners. I do own my OCs and bits of the plot.

Chapter Three: Lost

All alone the players make their stand;
Spread across this wasted land.

Four Years Later

Joey readjusted his hold on the rope, looking over at his two friends before the team of men began to pull the rope, sweat glistening on their skin. The blonde grunted at the exertion, growling as the platform that held the stone slowly began to move, conveying the white block up to join its fellows; where it would be loaded onto a sledge and pulled up the hill to the new castle. There the stone would be laid among its brethren and shaped to perfection by the master masons and their teams, who were working to complete the new castle.

The once ruined fortress glistened from the hill top, the white stone catching the sunlight and sending it back to blind the eye. The darker stones, the ones closer to grey than white, were used in constructing the lesser structures, the order from the king being that his castle had to be white, like the original fortress. The walls that surrounded the castle were also made up of the rejected stones, built to mimic those of the original castle.

Four years of nonstop work, and Gozaburo's castle was close to being completed. Finishing touches were being made to the building, the last stones smoothed and plans checked over for the final time. The castle would be ready for winter, when the king would take residence in his new abode. The gentry talked endlessly about the opening of the great castle, wanting to see the king ride to his new home in glory.

The peasants could care less.

Joey stopped pulling at the shout from the overseer, the red headed man giving them all a nod of thanks before shielding his eyes to see the signals of those on the top of the quarry, granting his workers a break. Joey let himself collapse to the ground, giving a weak nod to Tristan and Duke as them moved to sit next to him. All three men kept their eyes on their overseer, pleading mentally that a break would be called.

The red headed man looked back at them, rolling his shoulders as he walked away. “Take a break, boys. They say that they're waiting for further orders.”

The others on their team fell to the ground where they stood, often rolling onto their backs and closing their eyes as exhaustion overpowered them. On his part, Joey merely wiped the sweat from his brow and slumped against the rock he was using as a backrest.

Four years of work had almost quelled the rebellious boy who had been ready to give his life for a cause. Now, he worked to support his family, or what was left of it. His father was now an old man, bent by years of toil in the quarry and sour from disappointment. What little money Joey received for his job, he kept to himself. His father could spend his own meager rewards on drink, but Joey had to take care of his sister.

He saw the two men beside him shift upright, both of them tugging at their clothes as they tried to look presentable. Joey sat up, a smile breaking across his face as he saw his sister carefully picking her way across the quarry, men pausing in their work to help her across difficult obstacles. He cupped his hands around his mouth before shouting, “Serenity!”

The pretty red headed woman turned toward his voice, her smile increasing in size as she picked her way over to her brother, pulling off the water skin she carried and handing it over. Tristan took it first, taking a small sip before passing it over to Duke, who moved slightly to the side to allow Serenity to sit next to her brother. Joey reached up to guide her down, frowning at the cloth that covered her eyes, her pretty…Joey looked away in sorrow. It had been a long time if he had forgotten what color his sister's eyes were before they had been burned. His hand clenched on his thigh as he remembered the day. And how their prince failed to save her. But most of his anger was directed toward Gozaburo. The tyrant had no reason to blame a girl for what Joey had done.

“Brother.” Joey was pulled out of his thoughts as Serenity ran a hand over his face, her smile faltering. “Why are you frowning?”

“It's nothing.”

Serenity didn't look convinced, but she let the subject drop, leaning back to enjoy the time with her brother. Joey smiled at the motion, pulling her closer to his side when Duke and Tristan began to look with interest at his sister. As much as he felt that the two men were his brothers, he would not allow them to make advances toward his sister. Or, at least he tried to keep them away from his sister.

Joey shifted, about to tell them both off when the sound of an arrow whistling through the air made him stop. The three men were on their feet in a moment, the blonde pushing his sister behind him as he watched a party of noblemen ride into the quarry. His eyes narrowed as he recognized the king, his son and three knights. Gozaburo was lowering his bow, smirking at his son who looked disgusted with the whole affair. On the other hand, the knights and a few of the gentry were smirking.

“A good shot, my king.”

“A very good shot.”

Joey growled, meeting the king's gaze as Gozaburo glanced over at him. The man stiffened for a moment, tilting his head to the side before smiling a fraction. Joey thought he was going to go after Serenity again when he saw a familiar brunette girl run up to Gozaburo. His eyes widened as he recognized Tèa, one of the girls who he had grown up in the village. Joey hesitated for a minute before pushing Serenity to Tristan, a stern glare warning the man not to use this surrender to his advantage.

The blonde began to walk slowly to where Tèa was walking to the horses. He glanced at where she had come from, his brown eyes softening in sympathy. Her father was leaning against a cut of stone, breathing heavily as he tried to rest. It was hard for the older men and they often died while working in the quarry. Tèa's father was one of the last of the older generation still working here, one of the few who had not been crippled by the work.

“Oh look, a moving target.” One of the noblemen smirked at his own joke, a glare from a knight silencing further laughter. Gozaburo, however, broke into laughter, grabbing another arrow and drawing his bow. Joey moved faster, almost reaching Tèa before Gozaburo relaxed his bow.

“You have some spunk in you, peasant.”

Tèa kept her eyes trained on the ground, her voice only loud enough for those around the king to hear. “Please, my lord, my father is old and exhausted. He would only slow the work down.” She looked up, her blue eyes becoming more determined as the king remained unmoved. “He is an old man, he can do you no more harm.”

Gozaburo nodded, a strange look crossing his face before he drew his bow and fired again. Joey leapt forward, knocking Tèa to the ground. He sat up, quickly looking her over and sighing when he realized that she had not been harmed. A scream from the girl made him turn his head, mouth dropping open in shock. Tèa's father was still leaning against the rock, but his sightless eyes stared up to the sky, an arrow buried in his chest.

Joey was shoved away as the brunette woman ran for her father, the move earning a laugh from the king. Joey looked back, fighting to keep his face neutral as Gozaburo leaned over and spoke to his son. “This one has more spunk than that maid you insist on bedding.”

Seto scowled and turned his horse around, urging the animal back to the castle. The rest of the party followed after him, Gozaburo remaining behind to leer at Tèa as she looked back at him. He nodded to her, keeping a tight hold on his prancing steed. “I always said that death should be a release, not a punishment.”

The king kicked his horse in the sides, the already flighty animal bolting after its fellows, leaving the quarry workers in stunned silence. Most turned back to their work, avoiding the dead body and the girl that sobbed over her father. They were all aware that they could be next. They were all hardened to the sight of death, and it had ceased to bother them.

Joey looked at his friends and sister before moving over to kneel by Tèa, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Tèa tensed at the move before relaxing, turning her head to look at Joey with tear filled eyes. “Why?”

The blonde merely shrugged, looking down at the ground. “We'll give a proper burial tonight, I promise.”

Tèa nodded, waving him back to work. Comfort given, Joey stood up, intending to move back to his friends but was stopped by what the brunette muttered. “I'll kill him. Just watch me. I'll kill him for what he has done.”

Joey shivered and walked quickly back over to his group, pulling Serenity away from Tristan and pointing her toward Tèa. The red headed girl looked up at her brother. “What happened Joey?”

“The king killed Tèa's father. I need you to keep an eye on her today, alright?” Serenity nodded before making her way across the quarry, kneeling down next to Tèa before encouraging her to head for the village. Joey heaved a sigh of relief before turning back to his work, his overseer summoning them for another block. He didn't want anyone else he knew dying at the hands of their tyrant, there were enough funerals anyway.

The sun shone gently over the field of wheat, the golden stalks swaying in the breeze. It was warm for fall, the summer seeming unwilling to give up its hold over the land between the hills. Peasants made their way through the wheat, cutting it down as they prepared to harvest the bounty that they had struggled to grow, their morose faces telling the true story. They would get little of what they worked for, most of it going to feed the ravenous nobles.

One man was completely oblivious to the working going on around him, riding down the road on a brown mule as he stared at the scrap of parchment that he was writing on, often speaking aloud as he muttered words to himself, finding their fit in the epic that he was struggling to write. Once and a while he would chuckle to himself or offer a phrase to the mule, who would snort and shake his head.

The sun shone off his white hair as he flicked a piece out of his brown eyes, squinting against the glare of the afternoon sun. He sighed irritably and tapped his quill against the wood he used as a firm surface to write on.

"When the sun high in the sky did sit,
With wheat waving in perfect peace;
Then came a weary traveler..."

Ryou stared at the lines of verse before uttering an angry sigh and scratching out his writing, the three lines joining the other crossed out verses. He tapped on his tablet again, looking between the mule's twitching ears, but not really seeing anything. He sighed and sat back up, biting his lip before plunging back into his verse.

"The sun doth shine
While dark descends,
And what once was mine
Is now shared among friends..."

The white haired man beamed, looked back up and stroking the mule's neck. “What do you think about that?”

The mule gave a snort, Ryou smirking and turning back to his work. The mule decided that he wanted to stop, making the poet's quill scratch across the parchment in a bold line, partially obliterating the only progress he had made that day.

Ryou frowned, tucking his quill behind his ear and picking up the reins, shifting so his tablet was balanced over his knees. He gave the mule a dainty kick, slumping when the creature lowered his head and gave a shake, Ryou lunging for his tablet as it threatened to fall off the mule. He glared at the animal, kicking it repeatedly before letting out a loud groan of frustration. “Bakura, move your ass!”

There was silence for a moment, broken by the rustle of wheat as another man moved out of the shade of the stalks, walking up to the mule's head. He stroked the mule's forehead, looking up at Ryou with mischief in his russet eyes. “Tsk, poet, why do you speak about my fine steed like that? After all, I let you ride him while I walk.”

Ryou groaned at the smile on Bakura's face, hating the good mood that the thief was in. “You shoved me up here this morning saying that I was slowing you down.”

“Yes. I did and you were. You had to stop and scribble your tripe and then rush to catch up. I'll never reach the boarders of this kingdom at this pace.” Bakura turned his attention back to the mule, giving a soft cluck and pulling on the reins. The mule obliged immediately, moving forward at a good pace, much faster than its original speed. The thief gave the creature a pat before moving back to walk at the poet's knee.

“I will never understand why you are in such a rush to leave this place. Your livelihood depends on taking money from people, does it not? So why rush through a country and not even try to make money.”

“Poets can't see anything that was not created by their imaginations, can they Thoth?” The words were addressed to the mule, who nodded his head almost in agreement. Bakura responded with a laugh and a smack on the mule's shoulder, the animal simply grunting, used to the thief's moods. Bakura turned around to walk backwards, looking and Ryou. “Can you not see, poet, that this land is starving? What good would it be to squeeze juice from a stone?”

“And I thought you didn't have a heart?” Ryou smirked at the look that crossed the thief's eyes. Bakura turned back around, walking to Thoth's head. The poet winced, knowing that he had offended the thief, still learning the mood swings that affected his companion.

“There is still a code of honor that we observe. We refuse to take from those that have nothing because we remember the time when we were like them. I don't see the nobles holding to their code of chivalry.”

Ryou sighed, reaching forward to touch Bakura's shoulder only to draw his hand back as the thief rolled his shoulder away. The poet lowered his eyes to the writing in front of him. He knew that everything that Bakura said was true, but it still hurt every time the thief pointed it out to him. Ryou absently reached for the quill that was behind his ear, going for the one way that he kept the pain from overwhelming him. He set the tip of his quill on the paper, pondering words for a moment before reaching over to dip the tip in the ink pot he had tucked in a pocket.

"Such sorrow clouds what once was bright,
And still we flawed beings walk on,
'Gainst the eternal night..."

“Ryou.” The poet looked up as Bakura looked over at him, the thief sighing and running his hand through his hair. “It's no fun when you're sulking.”

The poet smiled and stuck his quill behind his ear again, getting a black streak in his hair. He leaned forward, smiling at the thief. “It's no fun when you are being serious. You should laugh more.”

Bakura flashed a cocky smile at Ryou, rolling his eyes back to the front. “When there is a reason, I will laugh. Your poetry, for example. Now there's a good reason to laugh.”

Ryou fell into their usual mode of existence. The easy banter would last until they met another person, when Bakura would close up again. Until then, the poet would enjoy this interaction. “You enjoyed it very much last night.”

The thief gave a wide grin, the grin that said Ryou was going to lose this round. “Oh yes, because it was interrupted by your lovely screams.”

The poet blushed, looking away as Bakura brought memories of the past few nights up. He had never thought he would end up in a relationship like this, not really quite sure how it had started. Ryou remembered having his purse cut from his belt, realizing this and chasing after the thief. He had managed to keep up, only to find himself against a wall being thoroughly kissed. And then he remembered waking up the next morning, wondering how he had gotten himself into this mess.

Not that he minded.

He was about to retort when screams came from the peasants behind them. Ryou turned on the mule, eyes widening as he saw the shadow move across the field. He reached for Thoth's mane as the mule bucked, calling out in fear as Bakura tried to calm him. They had a moment of calm before the dragon landed, long neck stretching back the way it came and roaring.

Ryou slipped off the mule's back, scrambling to stand beside Bakura as the dragon limped away, a lance dangling from under its foreleg, half of it broken roughly off. The poet peered out from behind the thief, eyes widening as he saw a knight on a dark brown horse come riding up, sword drawn. The knight looked down at them, dark eyes flashing with anger as he held his horse steady with one hand. “Where did it go?”

Ryou pointed since Bakura had his hands full with Thoth. The knight wheeled his horse without a word of thanks, urging the animal towards where the dragon was. Both of the men looked toward where the dragon had disappeared to, Ryou jumping as he heard a yell and then a roar.

Clumps of earth and dust flew into the air, obscuring what the knight was doing. Every once and a while, a scaled tail would rise, end separated into blades, before it fell back to the ground. Ryou caught a glimpse of the dragon's head rising above the dust, the sun glinting off the sickly yellow scales, before it slammed back down. The poet rushed forward, intending to get a better look for his own tales, when there was a human scream of pain.

The poet stumbled to a stop, one hand groping for Bakura's shoulder as he stumbled back. Horrible images rushed through his head, his imagination fueling them. He barely felt Bakura pat his shoulder, the thief hesitant about showing emotion in public. They both startled at a cough from the direction of the plume of dust, the shape of a human resolving itself from the cloud as the knight stumbled out of the dust, coughing and waving a hand in front of his face to clear the air in front of him.

The knight looked back, shrugging when he seemed to realize that his horse was missing, his attention suddenly grabbed by the approach of more horses and humans. Ryou felt the hand on his shoulder slip away, the only hint he had of Bakura moving away to hide again in the wheat. The thief was not taking any chances that his fame had spread, it was useless getting caught. The poet turned his head slightly, noticing the waving stalks that marked where Bakura had disappeared before looking back as the horses and their riders stopped by the knight.

“Well done, good sir.” The noble gave a vapid smile, the expression slipping as he looked toward where the dust was just beginning to settle. “Is the beast truly dead? I have heard tales of intelligence in these creatures.”

The knight held up a tooth, the noble relaxing at the visible evidence. The sharp tooth was lowered again as the knight held out his hand, raising an eyebrow. “Those tales are greatly exaggerated. These are beasts like the deer and the dog, nothing more. Now, about the payment...”

“This service has a price!” Ryou couldn't hold himself back any longer, eyes widening as he drew attention to himself. He hadn't meant to speak, but the slaughtering of his ideals right in front of him had been too much. He had always believed that knights fought and killed dragons for the honor and to keep people safe, not for money. The poet flinched as the noble smiled at him and the knight glared.

“This one raised a good point. Why not do it out of the kindness of your heart? Shouldn't you be satisfied with honor?”

“Kindness will not feed my belly or honor shoe my horse.” The knight wiggled his fingers, turning his glare back to the noble. “These times are harsh as we are ruled by a harsh king.”

“It is treason to talk of your king like that.”

“He is not my king.” The knight snarled the words out, one hand clenching around the tooth that he held. “I bend no knee to Gozaburo.”

“Then you will get none of his coin. Leave, unworthy man, or you will lose your head.” The noble spun his horse around, motioning for the peasants to keep working before looking down his nose to speak at the few that were closest to him. “Drag that carcass back to your village. It has enough meat to last you a while without coming to beg to me.”

Ryou stared as the noble galloped off; leaving the knight to roll his eyes and continue along the road on his own. The poet gathered the reins of Thoth, considering his options. He could follow Bakura to wherever the thief went, continuing on his path of sin and pleasure. Or he could follow the knight and finally have someone to base his poetry off of. He tired of writing of the few nobles that graced this land, or the king that sat so far away on his throne. The poet nodded to himself before making to follow after the knight.

He was seized by Bakura as the thief emerged from his hiding place, his fingers digging into Ryou's arm. The poet didn't look back, giving his arm a faint jerk to try and get away. The thief scrambled closer, clutching Ryou back to his chest to keep him from moving; Thoth jerking his head up and sidling away. Ryou couldn't help but shiver as Bakura hissed into his ear. “What do you think you are doing?”

“This is my chance, Bakura! I can finally write an epic to end all epics. People will talk of me forever! This is the thing I have been looking for all my life!” Ryou struggled against the hold, trying to keep his eyes on the knight who was walking down the road. He was abruptly turned back around, Bakura glaring at him in a way that scared him and set his heart beating faster.

“You can run away now, but you'll regret it.”

“What?” Ryou managed to get the word out before Bakura pulled him into a forceful kiss, bending Ryou backwards as he clawed at the other man. The poet managed to get a squeak out as Bakura came up for a quick breath before claiming Ryou lips again. Bakura broke the kiss, his lips still hovering over Ryou's as he spoke.

“But remember, you are mine.”

The poet shivered, stepping away from the thief. Now he really didn't want to leave, not with everything that Bakura had promised with that one kiss. He shifted nervously, looking between the knight and his lover. The thief finally threw his hands up into the air before he snatched up Thoth's reins and began to pull the mule after the knight. Ryou remained in place, stunned by the sudden turn of events.

“I'm not letting you out of my sight, poet!” Bakura called back over his shoulder, making Ryou blush before the poet scrambled to catch up with the mule and its owner. The thief quickly wrapped an arm around Ryou's waist. “You're mine and I don't let what's mine wander off alone.”

“But, your escape-”

“I'm the King of Thieves if your poetry and your screams are anything to go by.” Ryou quickly looked away, cursing himself for the things that he said in the midst of passion. Bakura gave his waist a gentle squeeze before letting go and walking faster. “Now, catch up with your destiny before he escapes you.”

Ryou nodded before running after the knight, only partially listening to Bakura complaining to his mule under his breath. “Sir Knight! Please wait!”

The knight turned at the summons, rolled his eyes, but slowed down enough for the two to catch up. Ryou fell into step with the knight, feeling Bakura's gaze on his back, almost daring the knight to make any move on Ryou, probably wanting to kill him with one of the knives that he held so dear. Ryou looked over his shoulder with a glare, that enough to calm Bakura down for the moment. When he turned back around, the knight was staring expectantly at him.

Ryou ducked his head, looking aside before drawing himself together to look at the knight. “While your motives are lackluster and appalling, I am fascinated by the life you chose and wish to chronicle your adventures.”

“There is nothing to write about. Just a man trying to make a living.”

“Please, I-”

“Mahad?” All three men came to a sudden stop at the sound of the voice, the knight moving first and rushing toward the sound. Ryou scowled and followed, not wanting to lose his chance. He sprinted after the knight, stumbling as he encountered rough parts of the road. He darted into the last row of wheat, stopping in shock as the knight spun around to face him, his sword drawn. A small teenager peeked out from around the knight's back, his purple eyes widening in fear as the two men approached them.

Ryou heard Bakura stumble up behind him, cursing the mule with what little voice he had left. The curses trailed off abruptly as the thief caught sight of the boy. He dropped the reins of his mule, not noticing that Thoth wandered to the side, reaching out to munch on the closest stalks. Bakura shoved Ryou aside to get a better look at the boy. “You're the prince aren't you? Or should I address you as king?”

The boy sighed and stepped out from behind Mahad, the motion making Ryou reconsider his initial impression of the prince. While he was short and still had a boyish face, the prince was not a boy. The young man carefully held the reins of Mahad's horse, the purple eyes narrowed into a glare at the thief, an expression that did not sit well on the prince's face.

Ryou himself was feeling stupid, not having noticed the particular hair that the prince had, something that could not be forgotten. His hair rose above his head in natural spikes, the ends tipped in red with the rest of the hair was black, except for the bangs that framed his face with their jagged lines, which were blonde. A few of these were shaken out of his eyes as the prince took another step forward.

“I am and no.” The prince backed off a step as Mahad threw out an arm to block him from moving any further. The knight was pointing his sword at Bakura, obviously torn between running the thief through or snatching the prince off his feet and carrying him away. The knight finally shoved his sword back into his scabbard with a grunt of disdain, pointing angrily at Ryou as he turned to mount his horse.

“You will get your wish. If you fall behind, you will be left behind.”

Ryou swallowed nervously, walking over to where Thoth was eating happily, snatching the reins and clambering onto the mule's back. Bakura took up his customary place by Thoth's head, the thief glaring daggers at the knight's back for threatening them. The poet was surprised when the prince gave them an apologetic glance before disappearing into the stalks of wheat. Ryou urged the mule after the knight, his head jerking to the side as he heard the sound of a trotting horse as the prince rode up on his palomino.

The four headed away from the field, Mahad leading them into the forest of pines. Ryou shivered as they entered the dark forest, his mind already racing as he created verses in his head.

Atem let his eyes fall shut, stretching out in the sun as he tried to soothe his stomach. The knight who had been foolish enough to challenge him this time was three miles away from his home under the waterfall, his remains half digested. The dragon groaned, pressing head against the ground as what little meat he had eaten that day attempted to come back up. It was always like this on days that knights came after him. He would end up having to snatch them up in his mouth and bite down, no matter how much he tried to avoid it, the events turned out the same. His temper would get away from him and he would come back to himself, feeling the human slide down his throat. Then, Atem would rush a good distance from his home before throwing up the remains. And then his stomach wouldn't settle for what seemed like forever.

The dragon raised his head, feeling too sick even to enjoy this extended warm weather. It meant that he could live for a little while longer off what the land had to give him before resorting to stealing from the people or flying away to hunt. The only good thing about the cold weather was it meant that the knights stopped coming to challenge him, which gave him time to recover.

He stood up shakily, making his way over to the water before swallowing down a few mouthfuls, shuddering at the motion. It was bad if he was reacting like this. He had lost almost all the weight he had put on during the months when the knights were still busy with their repairs. He was more skin and bones than fat, which would be troublesome in the winter. And it was getting worse as the years went on.

Atem turned his head to look in the direction of the castle, red eyes narrowing as the caught sight of the sad grey building. The one on the hill opposite where his uncle once lived was nearly complete, which meant that the king would spend the winter there. His chance to strike and free his father was then, in the confusion of moving a whole household.

He groaned as his stomach rolled again, the motion making him rear up and clutch his belly against the pain. At least it would pass, eventually. Or, at least until the next knight came. Atem gave a low growl, stopping when the sound hurt his already complaining stomach, head dropping as he clenched his teeth against the pain.

The dragon searched out a good spot in the sun, hoping that inactivity would settle his stomach, as it had the other times. Atem curled up as best he could, positioning himself toward the entrance to his home so that no other knight could surprise him. As he did this, he pleaded to the souls of the dragons who had come before him that no others would come. He didn't want to continue doing this, not when everything he did disgusted him. Not when he was the last dragon he knew of that even dared to still live in the valley. He rolled his shoulder slightly, automatically shifting it to a position that would not hurt it, especially with the arrowhead embedded out of his reach. Atem sighed and let his eyes shut, exhaustion pulling at him.

“He called me a what?!” Seto leaned back against the wall, shaking his head as Kisara fell back upon their bed, laughing hysterically. He rested his chin on his chest, waiting for the woman to calm down, all the while smirking to himself. It had been a wonderful four years, if he could bring himself to forget about the peasants and the disappearance of his cousin. At times he almost could, with Kisara there to comfort him and draw him out of the protective walls he had built around himself.

He moved from his place by the wall, scooping up the woman so he could hold her, and pulled her close. Kisara seemed to understand because she calmed her laughter and returned the embrace, tucking her head into his chest. Absently, Seto ran his hands over her back while staring at the wall.

This wasn't like him at all, but he couldn't find the strength to change it. He had been drawn to this woman since she decided to help him, her manner refreshing compared to all the other woman that fawned over him. But that shouldn't have been enough to make him move so quickly. And, when the haze from sex had cleared, all he could think about was keeping this woman close and never letting go. The thought should have scared him, even when he thought back on it now. Instead, the feeling was just stronger.

Kisara was the only one who could see through him, a quality that he had never thought he would like or need. From her, he craved it, partially wanting to be called out for his tendency to close himself off. She was the one who treated him like a human instead of his title, the only one who would openly disrespect him just to get a laugh or a flash of emotion. Kisara reminded him that he was human after a long day of acting like ice.

She shifted in his hold, the motion drawing him back to the present. The woman reached up and ran her fingers over his cheek, staring into his dark blue eyes. Seto let her, watching what her eyes did as she read him. At first, there was confusion, then worry and then, finally, they cleared. She raised her other hand, holding his face in one place, afraid that he would look away, as she spoke. “Yugi is alright, Seto. He has Mahad with him. He'll come back when he's ready.”

Kisara had hit on the other thing that continued to bother him. His cousin's disappearance, while a god send, was beginning to wear on him. Seto had been used to knowing where Yugi was exactly, or been able to guess. But now, he had no idea where the younger man was. He had lost the rest of his family four years ago, and it troubled him still. There were times, when he was exhausted from following his father around and playing the dutiful son, that he would think he heard Yugi's voice in the castle. Those were the nights that he would run to Kisara and simply hold her close.

He must have made a sound while he was lost in thought, because Kisara was stroking his head and gently dropping kisses over his face. Seto let her carry on, surprised when the hug shifted so she was cuddling him close; an honor that had always gone to him. When Seto tried to struggle back into the dominant position, Kisara held him tight. “Just relax, Seto. It will be alright. We'll get to Yugi before your father does, and this nightmare will end.”

Seto nodded before pushing away, watching as Kisara absently ran a hand through her white hair. She confused him often, a constant enigma. There were times she would act flighty in his presence, just joking around and encouraging him to let go. But her eyes were often serious past the surface, deep and calculating. And Seto could never figure her out completely. She acted older than her age, sometimes to a point that frightened him. Although he would never admit it.

He reached for her, drawing her into a standing hug before beginning to kiss his way up her neck. She tipped her head back to give him the freedom to do whatever he wanted, her blue eyes sparkling with laughter. Seto backed her up, lowering her gently to the mattress before laying himself over her. She broke the kiss for a moment to smirk up at him. “If this is the way you treat your maids, I would love to know how you treat really ladies.”

Seto accepted the challenge, thankful that she was offering him a way out of his worry. A way to just forget for a few minutes. He smirked back at her, watching as her own expression wavered. “I'll show you then.”

Yugi sat on the far side of the fire, gently turning the stick in the coals, every once and a while poking a few away from the center of the fire. He could hear Mahad setting up their camp, arguing with one of the men who had accompanied them. Mahad was obviously unhappy with the arrangement, but Yugi was glad for the company. The knight had changed so much over the time they had been wandering.

Mahad was sullen more often, driven by the need to kill any dragon he came across. And his instructor had never been like that before. Yugi sighed, removing another likely coal before pushing another one further in. He thought it had to do with the sudden removal of everything Mahad held dear. The knight still stuck to his code, but it was a tenuous hold. One that Yugi knew would break if something threatened him.

He looked up as the poet walked over to his side of the fire, the motion making him glance up at the other man as he glared at Mahad. The two men passed each other, finding their prepared sleeping spots apart from each other before curling up into their cloaks. Yugi sighed as the tension disappeared, smiling at the poet as he glanced away from Bakura with a blush on his face. Finally, Ryou sat down, staring at Yugi's actions. “What are you doing?”

Yugi considered his coal, tentatively reaching out to touch it. He decided it was cool enough to handle, the calluses on his hands protecting him. He gave a wistful smile. There was a time when he had been soft, a true noble. Now it seemed like there was nothing of that softness left. He had been kicked out of his childhood as he stood waiting for Mahad in the rain.

He reached behind him for the piece of bark he had peeled off a birch tree, turning it in his hands before picking up the coal and beginning to sketch lines on it. He felt the poet lean over, looking over his shoulder to see what he was doing. Yugi smiled and shifted so that Ryou would have a better view before turning back to his work, ignoring the ashes that were getting on his hand, eyes glazing over as he recalled the dragon that Mahad and slain that day.

A few long strokes created the back and the tail of the dragon, the wings sketched above the shoulders and spread in preparation for flight. The hind legs were drawn next, bunched as they prepared to throw the dragon into the air. Yugi drew in the forelegs, already folded up to the chest. A long sinuous neck was joined to the shoulder, leading up to the rounded head, bare of any spikes since they had long broken off. Yugi leaned closer to his drawing to draw the eye, frowning as it turned out to be staring up into the sky, a blank look in it. He shook his head and quickly went back over his lines before adding shading and details.

A whistle from the poet behind him drew his attention back to the present. Yugi responded to the whistle with a blush, shaking his head. “It's not really that good.”

“Looks good to me.”

“It's just something I do.” Yugi stared at the sketch, carefully placing it to the side and wiping off his hands. He turned to the pack he had sat behind him, opening it to take out the stack of other pieces of bark. There were eleven in total, this new dragon making twelve. Yugi placed a blank strip of bark over his newest drawing and added it to the pile, resting his hand on top of it with a sigh.

“Are those all pictures of the dragons that Sir. Mahad has killed?”

“Yes.” The response came after a brief hesitation, the way Ryou's eyes seemed to sparkle throwing him off. The poet leaned back and shook his head, glancing back over to the knight.

“Twelve dragons in four years, that's nearly three a year. A great feat!”

Yugi paused in putting the pictures back into the pack, one hand clenching in the fabric as he forced himself to answer. “I guess it is.”

“Guess? Gozaburo's knights can barely kill one a year, and those knights are becoming fewer as they try to slay this one dragon.” Ryou settled back on his hands, smiling up at the stars as he continued to talk, oblivious to Yugi's discomfort. “They say this beast is fiercer than any other dragon; his scales as dark as sin and as red as blood. Some knights have returned from battling this beast and they never again leave the castle to face another dragon. He is a true prize to be captured. Have you heard of this dragon, prince?”

Yugi finished tying the pack shut, brushing his hand down the front as he closed his eyes with a sigh. He would never know why Mahad decided to go on this killing spree. It had been perfectly calm travel, just trying to get Yugi away from Gozaburo. And then, instead of gathering up allies to return to reclaim his kingdom, Mahad had started searching for dragons. Yugi agreed that it brought in a fair amount of money that they needed, but he still wasn't sure that it was the right thing to do.

The one time he had confronted Mahad on this, the knight had just remained silent. And the silence had stretched between them for days, leaving Yugi alone. He didn't want to repeat the experience, so he had let the subject drop and allowed Mahad to carry on with his work. But Yugi now didn't temper the hurt in his eyes when Mahad came back with another dragon's tooth to fix onto his shield or limped away from a kill, leaving Yugi to pet the dead dragon's muzzle and apologize.

While Mahad wiped them from the face of the earth and collected their teeth, Yugi immortalized them in his drawing and memories. To him, they were amazing creatures, filled with a strange grace when in flight. He had seen them in fear and anger, and they never ceased to amaze him. And Mahad could never see that, the knight never saw past the beast and to the intelligence that lurked behind their eyes.

He startled when he realized that Ryou was still waiting for his answer. Yugi opened his eyes and stared into the fire, staring at the abstract shapes that were slowly dying as the fire burned low. “I've heard so many stories about dragons like you describe that they all run together. There's a tale like that everywhere we stop.”

“They say that this beast is the last one in this kingdom, all the others have fled.” Yugi swallowed harshly at that, biting the inside of his lip to keep the tears from falling. He always got more emotional after Mahad killed a dragon, almost hating his protector for what he was doing. His posture stiffened, trying to block the enthusiastic poet out as he rambled on. “So it would be quite the prize. And, finally we could have peace. Well…peace enough with a tyrant in place.”

Ryou stood up with a stretch, looking longingly at Bakura before shaking his head. “I'm off to bed. New adventures tomorrow. Goodnight, prince.”

Yugi raised a hand in farewell, not even watching the white haired man make his way over to Bakura and snatch half of the blanket away before cuddling up to the thief. He stared at the fire for a moment more before abruptly standing up and grabbing his sword. Yugi stomped to the edges of camp, pulling the blade out of the scabbard and beginning to go through some drills on his own; as it had been since Mahad had started to hunt dragons. As he worked, Yugi muttered the code that Mahad had drilled into his head.

“Inside the table's circle, under the sacred sword, a knight must vow to follow, a code that is unending; unending as the table-a ring by honor bound.” Yugi lunged forward at the last word, twisting to parry an invisible strike to his head before sweeping his sword low. He snapped it back up to guard position, eyes flicking to the right as he began to speak again, the ends of his sentences coinciding with strikes and parries.

“A knight is sworn to valor.” Yugi ducked, rolling one shoulder to swing around, his sword's edge slashing into an invisible opponent's stomach.

“His heart knows only virtue.” A block with his sword held behind his back before the blade was swept back around.

“His bade defends the helpless.” The sword winked in the dull moonlight, as Yugi brought it back to guard, shifting it slightly more to the right.

“His might uphold the weak.” Yugi shifted, bending he knees more before he lunged forward, one hand dropping from the hilt of the sword, clenching like he held a shield, to block his side.

“His word speaks only truth.” The hand with the invisible shield dropped back to the sword as Yugi recovered forward, shifting to block a low attack.

“His wrath undoes the wicked.” He flicked his blade up, raising it over his head before burying the tip in the ground.

“The right can never die if one man stands and still recalls. These words are not forgot if one voice speaks them clear. The code forever shines if one heart holds in bright.” Yugi fell to his knees behind his sword, one hand still resting on the hilt as the other arm rested on the guard at the base of the pommel, allowing Yugi to drop to rest his head on it, shoulders shaking as he sobbed.

Kisara cautiously pried herself from Seto's grasp, placing a kiss on his forehead when the man moaned in his sleep. She smiled at Seto before wrapping a robe around her body and walking outside. She was careful to stay in the shadows, aware that Gozaburo and his knights were still up, probably finalizing the plans to move to their new castle. The king was impatient to get away from this castle, probably because it reminded him of everyone that he had killed to get to this point. She shivered and clutched the robe closer to her, moving out to the far corner of the courtyard where the dragon was kept. For a moment, she couldn't see Akhnamkanon in the shadows, mourning the loss of her keener sight. The dragon shifted, brown eyes opening slowly as he became aware of the woman who was standing before him. Akhnamkanon stared at her, head tipping to the side as he let out a sigh. “You are…but you smell like a dragon.”

She didn't dare try to free him, not willing to risk her life with Seto for the dragon. Kisara shook her head, white hair drifting down to cover her eyes as she shuffled closer. At least she could give him comfort. “Akhnamkanon.”

The dragon started at his name, head raising a bit, chains rattling with the move. “How do you know my name, human?” He paused, eyes fluttering closed as he took a deep breath. The dragon let out a small grumble as he opened his eyes. “Kisara.”

“Yes.” She walked up to place her hand on his muzzle, tears forming in her eyes before she rubbed them away. “It's me.”

“But I thought…” His eyes moved to stare at the wall. “I heard them all scream as they die, and I never know who it is. My son could been dead five times over for all I know. Have you had any news?”

“None. I'm as stuck here as you are.”

Akhnamkanon frowned. “But, surely this is a dream. You shouldn't be stuck here with me.”

“It's no dream, Akhnamkanon. You are still stuck here. But I am really here.” Kisara took a step back as the dragon hissed, moving his own body back to avoid her touch. She watched as he snapped at her, the threat obvious as he began to speak again.

“Why have you done this, Kisara? Why did you become a human?”

“I…I wanted to.”

“Did you do this to save your own hide while my son is still out there?”

“No! No!” Kisara swayed in place, the glare that Akhnamkanon was directing at her keeping her in place. “I did this before you were captured. Atem watched over me and helped me get here. And I'm happy here. I belong here.”

“You belong with your kind, Kisara! Not among the humans.”

“I am loved here.”

“It's false. All of these humans are false.”

Kisara wrapped her arms around herself, closing her eyes. Akhnamkanon had changed since she had last spoken to him, becoming more like his brother. And she should have seen that he would change instead of holding onto the hope that he would be there for her, the one who could understand the whole of her instead of just appreciating everything she was as a human. She had given up being a dragon, as she should accept that. Give up everything that went with being a dragon and resign herself to being a human.

And Seto was enough for her to make that choice.

She looked up at the black dragon, noticing that Akhnamkanon refused to meet her gaze. She gathered the robe around her again, turning around to speak over her shoulder at him. “Seto is not. I will stand by him and try to help you.”

Kisara walked away with her head held high before Akhnamkanon could retort. She kept the façade until she walked into the castle. She then broke into a run, suddenly needed Seto by her. Kisara ducked into the servant's staircase, avoiding Gozaburo and his knights. She ran up into the hallway, spotting Seto's room a few steps away and she gratefully rushed toward the door, slipping in and jumping back into bed with him.

The motion woke up the man, Seto opening one eye sleepily before opening her robe to rest his hands against her skin. He pulled back a moment, now fully awake as he stared at her. “You were outside.”

“I can't go back.” Kisara wrapped herself around Seto, ignoring the shocked look he shot her. “I can never go back.”

Seto lowered them both down, using one hand to draw the covers back up before he held her. Kisara sobbed into his shoulder, not even hearing the awkward words of comfort that Seto whispered to her.

Read and review please. Criticism, as always, is greatly appreciated.