#dracgus

He’s doing nothing but talk about the king’s education that he had personally overseen. Nothing wrong with that, old man.

       Everyone--- everyone--- had expected her to; from fans who’d followed her father’s Duelling career to speculative tabloids who wanted nothing more than good gossip and a story. She was supposed to be this great duellist following in the dark, wide shadow of Seto Kaiba--- but how was she supposed to call herself a great duellist if she couldn’t even win a tournament? The sting of defeat was only greater because she had so many people watching her fail. 

      It was a stupid mistake, too. A novice mistake--in hindsight. The duel played over and over again in her head like a video clip on loop. All she could see was her Life Points hitting zero and the crowd falling into silence. Setsuna didn’t dare look at the sidelines, where her parents had sat, afraid of finding disappointment on their faces. Now that she was in her room, it was all she could think about. How she’d probably disappointed him, let him down, EMBARRASSED him. 

        The click of her door opening was enough to rouse her from her inner turmoil, though she kept her face securely buried against her knees. She didn’t have to look up to know who’d come in; she’d sort of expected it. 

         ❝I don’t want to talk about it...❞

            The symptoms were becoming harder to ignore and even harder to pass off with the usual excuse. Despite her best -- and increasingly desperate -- efforts to maintain the secret growing in her belly, Kisara could sense the concern of those around her begin to morph into suspicion. Anzu was by far the sharpest. As her friend’s "summer cold" continued into its third week, Anzu was the first to suggest that something more serious was afoot ( and the not so gentle prodding that followed eventually lead her to the truth ).  

           On more than one occasion, she had been awoken by the sound of her office door opening, having little recollection of when she had ever fallen asleep. Even her visits to Kaiba's office eventually resulted in a unexpected nap taken upon the small sofa while he continued to work. This lack of energy was most unlike her -- and combined with what seemed to be a never-ending sense of nausea that only became worse with each passing week, she was quickly reaching the end of her rope. A decision would have to be made and while she had been prepared to make one soon, it seemed her body was intent on making one for her now.

           As it had attempted earlier that morning when she had gotten out of bed, only to fall to her knees a moment later. Yet another symptom of her condition making its appearance, this time in the form of a sudden drop in blood pressure that caused her to feel dizzy and on the brink of fainting. Had she only been home in her own apartment, it wouldn’t have posed such a problem. She could have recovered and moved on without anyone knowing. But she had indulged her desire for company, choosing instead to spend the previous night under her boyfriend’s roof and in his bed, curled up with her back against his own.

           The hours that followed after the incident were a series of futile attempts to recover the pieces of her story. 

He was very curious about his current predicament, but one thing always drifted to the for front of his mind. Seto Kaiba.

He had risked his mortal life just to get one last duel with the true him. But he had a young brother, Mokuba, who if anyone knew the CEO, knew he meant the world to him. And Mokuba couldn't keep the company going at the rate Seto could. So had he risked everything for one final duel? Or did he have a plan on how to get back?

As he was lost in thought as he walked the crowded streets, he couldn't help but feel eyes on him. He turned and looked for the perpetrator of the act. The street was crowded with people, but had his eyes deceived him, or had he seen the familiar coat and piercing blues of Seto Kaiba?

            No questions are asked, nor objections raised as the Queen silently gestures, dismissing all servants currently tending to her Pharaoh for the remainder of the evening. They depart quietly, honoring the wishes of their unconventional ruler as she moves to take their place, fingers slipping beneath folds of linen to remove the tunic from his body, draping it neatly across nearby chair. 

            A moment of pause is taken as the Queen allows her eyes to wander, to admire the expanse of his back as if it were the first -- as if she had not already memorized every dip and curve of defined muscle, every scar left in wake of battle or childhood folly. And when the moment passes -- when temptation to hold within her arms the man she loved so deeply can no longer be resisted -- her palms smooth across warm planes of olive skin, the tips of her fingers ever so gently tracing the downward line of his spine before curling around his waist. 

            She holds him close, lips pressing soft kisses upon his shoulder in tender display of her affection. She loves him, of that there is no doubt between them. And yet it continues to surprise even her -- how with every morning that breaks upon the horizon, greeted by gentle smile of most precious husband -- that love felt deep within her heart grows stronger. What she had done to have been blessed with such a man will forever remain a mystery, but she will always be grateful, never taking a moment by his side for granted. 

             Even as regent -- entrusted with the protection of Kemet and its people until the true King returns -- Kisara knows she shouldn’t. She mustn’t. Her husband’s words echo, clear as if he stood beside her, whispering the warnings in her ear. A constant reminder that the decision to keep the white dragon at rest within her soul is for her own safety. He would not risk losing her again -- and though she too would admit wanting to stay forever by his side, the Great Royal Wife could not in good conscious secure her own safety at the cost of their people. 

            The screams of terror only grow louder and louder still. Women cling desperately to their children as they rush for cover, their husbands running in opposite direction to aid soldiers as they fight against the enemy’s unexpected  ( but never the less successful )  breach of the Western wall. 

            ʺ  Your Highness !   ʺ   A familiar voice calls out to the Queen upon noticing her move from her place upon dias. Barely another step is taken before the High Priestess Isis comes to stand before her, a look of concern etched across the tanned planes of her face.     ʺ  Forgive me, your Highness, but you are in no condition to partake in this fight. Please. Let us handle this matter.   ʺ    And though the other woman spoke perfect sense, reminding her again of the even greater importance placed upon her well-being now that she was with child, the Queen still shook her head in response. This assault was well planned and it had progressed for far too long. She could not risk the enemy gaining further advantage. Not when she possessed the ability to put a stop to it all.

            ❛   I cannot sit idly by while our people fear for their lives. For the lives of their own children.   ❜    A pale hand comes to to rest gently upon the barely noticeable swell of her growing stomach. The touch appearing as tender affection between mother and unborn child, but meant also as reassurance to quell the ever prevalent fear of a new mother for her baby’s safety.     ❛   I will put an end to this so that we may all sleep soundly this night.   ❜     And in hopes of every night hereafter.

Oh. This was proving harder than he thought it would ever be but though he’d taken the time to go over what he had wanted to ask again and again within his own mind it just seemed to fall away now that he stood in front of the other, under that judgemental gaze. Why was it easier to face his rival when he was still with Yugi? He paused for a few moments, summoning up his resolve as he forced himself to meet the others gaze. He had came here for help but that did not mean that he had to appear to be weak or mellow in the others presence right?

“I am hoping that is the case” he muttered softly before taking in a small breath and forcing himself to try and find his voice. He was once such a great and powerful leader... so honestly this should be nothing! And yet he hated that it had came to this, he hated feeling this lost, this helpless and having to almost turn to beg for help, though his pride was far too strong for things to ever fall to such levels. If his rival turned him down or it was too much to be asked after not seeing one another for so long - then he’d go elsewhere as needed. Kaiba was not the only one who could offer him help - just the one with the least complications - maybe.

“As much as you care to think so otherwise - you are a friend and I felt asking you first was the wisest choice to be made” he frowned and folded his arms infront of his chest as he watched Kaiba. Honestly he should have written down everything and just had a letter to hand over to his rival instead of now feeling slightly tongue tied. He didn’t wish to come across as desperate though was aware that his current situation was likely to make it seem that was the case. And yes he was the first choice, and not just because he was the easiest to reach out to but because he felt he could trust him despite who much they could argue. Rivaly and friendship - where was the line truly drawn?

　　 Sinbad has long accepted the strangeness of this city and the oddities of its inhabitants. Whatever rhyme or rhythm may exist is unseen by him, shrouded by the chaos that surrounds them like a fog at even the calmest moments. Yet he still attempts to understand, lest he find himself lost in a sea of confusion...