“How can anyone not be afraid of love?”, Mahaad + Atem? ｡◕ ‿ ◕｡
Send me two characters or more and a prompt and I’ll write you a short fic a long mess, how did this happen???
(I was planning to put it in a read more line but idk it doesn’t show on tumblr mobile so… just scroll down the block if you don’t wanna read it)
It’s very rare that he asks Yuugi for anything, not wanting to interfere with his life. But he couldn’t help it, he finally had some clues on what he was, on who he was, on why he was in the Puzzle. He just… he had to make sure it was real.
So he asks Yuugi if he could do something, go out and relax in his body, and he obliges with no hesitation. Encouraging him to take his time, and actually threatening him if he switched control too soon. He asks again if this could be private, and Yuugi is fine with it.
So here he was, at the museum, standing before the tablet again. A tablet of friendship created by a high priest, Isis said. One that had apparently been close to him.
He wonders how much of that was true. It’s just one tablet, one event in his life (one he couldn’t remember).
“You’re interested in Ancient Egypt?”
He turns to find a man leaning against a pillar. He was tall, a little taller than Kaiba, and had long black hair. Hair so dark and silky it looked violet against the light.
Usually he would be wary of strangers, especially those who ask him about Egypt. It was always a theme in their lives that anyone who’s interested in Egypt and approaches them were not nice, to put it mildly.
But this was a museum, and he supposes it was a normal question. Considering he was a teenager staring at an Ancient Egyptian artifact intensely.
“Of sorts,” he says, observing the man some more. Blue eyes, not as vibrant as Anzu’s or intense as Kaiba’s, but still striking in its own way. Like looking into a calm river. “Things related to Ancient Egypt frequently appear in my life,” an understatement, “and it wouldn’t hurt to know more about it.”
The man hums, looking at the tablet then at him. He suspects that he’s looking at the carving of the pharaoh, perhaps comparing their similarities.
“Any questions you wish to ask?”
“I know a lot about Ancient Egypt,” the man says. “I can give you plenty of obscure facts about it. For instance, did you know that onions were considered an aphrodisiac?”
He snorts at that, knowing from Yuugi’s memories that onions were a pretty common ingredient for many dishes. “We must all be horny as hell twenty-four-seven.”
He probably shouldn’t be talking to a stranger this much, this was still Yuugi’s body. And it wouldn’t be good if they met the man again, only to find Yuugi and not him. Yuugi’s friends were enough, he shouldn’t intrude in his partner’s life any more than he already has.
(but it was nice to talk about things that weren’t life-threatening, and it felt nice to be not the Other Yuugi for once)
“Perhaps,” the man says, smiling. “Priests were forbidden to eat them because it might raise their libido, and they wouldn’t be able to perform any of their sacred duties.”
“I take it you like onions, considering this is your opening line to convince me of your Egyptian expertise?” He raises an eyebrow, turning completely towards the stranger. He looked around the same age as Pegasus (though really, most people looked older than the multimillionaire manchild). He was wearing a grey cardigan and black slacks. Â
It was fascinating how plain and simple the man looked. Yet at the same time, not. There was something about him, beneath the mellow and approachable appearance of the man, he felt there was a kind of… flair to him.
“I love anything with onions in it.”
“You’d be a horrible priest, then.”
“There were ways around it,” the man says, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Rituals to purify one’s self. Priests weren’t saints, after all.”
“I’m sure there were people who’d still say you’d be a horrible priest.”
“I can think of at least one,” the man chuckles, laughing at some inside joke only he was privy to.
He thinks of Shadi who had barged into people’s soul rooms and even changed them to suit their needs. He thinks of Shadi who had given the Eye to Pegasus when he was obviously grieving and emotionally vulnerable.Â
He thinks of himself, the first weeks of being out of the Puzzle, punishing Yuugi’s classmates with no hesitation.
Shadi could be considered a priest, couldn’t he? And him… he was a pharaoh, someone who should be above priests.
“None of us are, some less saintly than others,” he says, giving himself a self-deprecating smile. He turns back to look at the tablet, eyes roaming through every symbol and image on it. He had assumed that Isis and her clan would be the only people who knew about the history of Nameless Pharaoh, but considering this was part of an exhibit - and the fact that people like Pegasus, Sugoroku, and even Ryou knew parts of it? It seems a bit silly to think it was some kind of secret.
“Can you tell me anything about them?” He asks, pointing at the two figures above his supposed self and the priest.
The man tilts his head. “Not about the one that looks like you? I would have been curious about that.”
So he did assume he was interested because of that. “I’m,” scared of finding out what kind of person he was, “more curious about them. They look a lot like two Duel Monsters I know.”
The man hums, walking towards the tablet. He was beside him, looking up at the tablet, seemingly unaware of how the teen stiffened in response of their sudden change in proximity.
“I don’t know much about the dragon, only that she was incredibly steadfast and strong,” the man says. “I know more about the man above the pharaoh, he was one of his high priests.”
A high priest, like the one who ordered this tablet to be made? Did he have an item then? “So he couldn’t eat onions too?” He jokes.
“No, much to his dismay, it didn’t stop him though.”
“Much to his dismay?” He raises an eyebrow. “Are we talking about him or you?”
“Why not both?” The man shrugs. “Kill two birds with one stone.”
“Right,” he snorts, looking at the details of Dark Magician in the tablet. So did that mean his monster had been a priest? Was Dark Magician even the person depicted in this tablet? “A high priest… what was special about him that he was carved here?”
One could say that perhaps it was because he was his ace. Kaiba had Blue Eyes White Dragon, while he had Dark Magician. But that was pushing it too far, even for him. This was something that happened thousands of years, he doubted they were carved because both were their favorite cards.
Even he had to draw the line with using fate as an explanation.
“Loyalty perhaps? That would be obvious. Protectiveness? It is depicting a battle, maybe he was one of his best warriors,” the man says. “But I would have to say love.”
“Love,” he repeats flatly.
“You don’t think so?”
He thinks of this tablet, one that was a symbol of friendship that he didn’t remember. This was the only thing in his past that didn’t seem to want to kill him, a symbol of love. He doesn’t know how to handle love, he never considered it was something his past had. “I’m… wary of love.”
“How can you be scared of love?”
“How can you not?” He shoots back. He thinks of Kaiba and how most of his world was his little brother. Thinks about how much he must have lost and taken just to give him a comfortable life.
He thinks of Mokuba, and how much of an unbearable and murderous brat he was before, because he had been drifting away from the only family he had and didn’t know what to do.
He thinks of Jounouchi, living with his drunkard of a father and still hoping they’d regain their father-son bond, willing to give all of his prize money from Duelist Kingdom, a nightmare of a tournament, for his sister.
He thinks of Otogi, who had done horrible things to Yuugi in hopes to make his father proud. He thinks of Ryou, who often looks in longing at passing families. He thinks of Pegasus, a man who couldn’t handle losing his wife well.
He thinks of Yuugi and the burn scars on his hands.
“How can anyone not be scared of love?” He wonders. “You have to endure, you have to lose, you have to hurt… all for love.”
“Some would say it’s worth it.”
“Do you think so?” He remembers how much Yuugi wouldn’t let go, remembers how Jounouchi was so torn between leaving the Puzzle behind and taking the risk of wasting time to bring the Puzzle with them too. He would have rather both of them left him, instead of slowly burning in that hell hole. “Love often means sacrifice.”
“You don’t like sacrifice?”
“I don’t like people sacrificing for me, love’s not worth it if they’re hurt because of me.”
“Many would say that sacrificing for a loved one is worth it.”
He laughs, forced and bitter. “And what if the loved one is hurt because of it? What it they forever think that it’s their fault? What if they wished you never loved them, so you’d never become hurt? What then? What if they have nobody else and you’re gone? What if they choose not to have anyone else so that nobody sacrifices for them ever again? Who picks up the pieces when your sacrifice breaks them?”
“… I don’t know.”
He laughs again. “That’s a bit selfish, isn’t it? That you wouldn’t consider the feelings of a loved one, even if you justify it with sacrifice.”
He thinks of Yuugi’s thoughts, the moment the Puzzle was put back together, he felt his partner’s desperation in taking him back. The mantra “I want to see him again!” playing over and over until he fainted.Â
A selfish thought for a selfless act.
He recalls what Isis had told him, about how he sealed himself in the Puzzle for the greater good. Sacrifice then, to keep his loved ones alive. He wonders vaguely if that high priest, the past incarnation of Kaiba, had been mad at him. That this tablet of friendship was more of a tablet of grief, of pain, of anger.
That seemed more like Kaiba, in his opinion.
“Is that what you feel then?”
Have you been broken? Is what the man means.
He considers it, he doesn’t have any memories to know if he had lost people. If people sacrificed for him, if it had become too much for him.
Whenever Yuugi put his life on the line, whenever anyone put their lives on the line, there was something familiar about it that he couldn’t dismiss. Horror. Fear. Pain. Anger.
Resignation. The quiet pleas of “No, not again” echoing in his mind.
“I don’t know,” he whispers. “But, I sometimes feel phantom pains when I see someone I love hurt,” he touches his chest. “Like a thousand knives stabbing me all at once. I’m beginning to wonder if my sacrifice was more for me than for them, if I was just tired… if that was the only thing I knew, because so many who loved me sacrificed as well. It must have been normal.”
He doesn’t know that the man hears, doesn’t see the man wince.
He jerks at that, blinking. Then he laughs awkwardly. “What are you sorry for? You were offering me trivias and I was the one who rambled,” he places his hands in his pockets. “I should be sorry, I was wasting your time.”
“You would never wast-! … It was not a waste of time, I was happy to help,” the man sighs. He gives him a quiet long stare.
“You’re a duelist, correct? One of your decks is a Dark Magician one.”
He blinks, he didn’t expect someone to describe him like that. Most usually say things about him beating Kaiba or Pegasus. And then either running away or demanding a duel. Nobody has ever taken note what his deck was, except Kaiba (and that was usually because he was spending half his time trying to defeat it).
“Here,” the man holds out a card.
He takes it, widens his eyes at the title of the card. “Thousand Knives?”
It was a Dark Magician support card too.
“It’s an apology, for all the pain you had to endure,” the man says with a solemnity that he couldn’t place. “Let all the knives you’ve taken become a weapon against your enemies, not yourself.”
“I can’t-! This isn’t-!” He sputters, looking at the card. It was a very useful card, and something that appealed to him greatly. He imagines using this against monsters more powerful than Dark Magician. It was so tempting but- “I can’t accept this, you don’t know-”
