Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Yami's Past ❯ Dreams of Years Long Past. ( Prologue )

Yugi lay in his bed, the moonlight shining through his light blinds and onto the floor. And somewhere in his soul room, Yami lay sleeping as well, and dreaming of years long past.

A younger Yami, dressed in a plain white cloth skirt, his tanned arms adorned with golden manacles made of a harder gold than the elaborate chest plate that hung from his neck, stared up at the Pharaoh as he sat on the throne of Egypt, arguing with his councilors. It was not a very heated argument, the Pharaoh held the power of life, or death, over his subjects and so even his councilors feared to argue seriously with him. If he set his mind to something, he would get it. No one dared to stand against him, not to his face certainly. Although, there had been an exception to that once. Yami, upon hearing that one of his favorite "step mothers" was to be evicted, had gone to the Pharaoh to argue in her favor. The debate had become quite heated, and Yami had ordered his father to let her stay. He remembered the silence of the court, and the resounding echo of his father's palm hitting his cheek. There had been a bruise there for a week.

Although the Pharaoh was loving with all his children, especially Yami as he was his heir, the Pharaoh had a fierce temper and would not stand to be questioned. Yami learned his lesson well, and never publicly opposed his father again, although when occasion merited he would beg with him, an action he resented but was the only way to get what he wanted a good deal of the time. Yami cocked an eyebrow to himself. Perhaps that sounded selfish, but Yami did not beg on his own behalf, rather on that of the people he would one day represent.

The Pharaoh was unaware of his growing unpopularity but Yami, who spent a good deal of time around the commoners (but certainly not mingling with them!), was well aware of it and how it would affect his own rule. His father's unpopularity would fall onto his shoulders when he inherited the throne, and that would be hard to deal with. The Pharaoh seemed to want to make himself disrespected, and almost went out of his way to ignore the populous, forcing huge buildings to be built and then abandoning them only months after they were completed, destroying future tomb sites for chariot grounds, forcing the poor farther out into the desert to farm while giving the prosperous land to the aristocracy. And, he played the shadow games. Games of war, pain, death and destruction, played by rulers for their own amusement, at the price of others. At least visibly. But anyone who had played them knew of their other hitch, they slowly destroyed the players. The strong ones could play for years without any signs, but weak willed players self-destructed in under a year, going mad and finally killing themselves- and any near them. And Yami could already see the signs of madness in his father's plans for the upcoming war.

In all the dark corners of the palace councilors, guards, musicians, artisans and any others who happened to be around discussed the Pharaoh's plans for battle. Caught up in some idea of glory he would send all his troops, every one of them, charging straight into battle leaving none for a second wave and none to protect the city. If the first attack failed, Thebes would fall and the Egyptian empire would be destroyed. But worse, the Pharaoh, he who had not fought for a decade, planned to lead the battle himself, with all his sons at his side in the front line. The entire royal house could very well be destroyed within an hour of the battle's opening. Already, so rumor had it, the lesser sons were sharpening swords, many with red cheeks.

Yami sat alone in his room, having dismissed his servants earlier. His sword and his spear lay by his low couch, shining in the evening sun. 'Why must father be so pig-headed? The councilors offer valid advice, he could win the battle easily if he planned, strategized, but instead he would throw all our lives away like so many rotten figs?' Yami had no wish to die, but it was his duty as his father's son to follow his orders, no matter what his personal opinions. 'Perhaps the commoners can sneak out of this, but we must have dignity and honor. Even if we are about to be destroyed.'

Yugi sat up in bed. It was morning, so the sun shining in so brightly demonstrated. 'Another day of school. How sad.' Yugi made an appropriately melancholy face. He was smart enough to be fairly bored in most of his classes, and having Yami around didn't help. When he had first realized he could talk to Yami in his head he had been thrilled with the idea of school; he would no longer be bored as he would have someone to talk to, and the teacher wouldn't be able to yell at a conversation he or she couldn't hear. But then came the problems. To converse with Yami he had to concentrate quite a bit, giving him a zoned out look which teachers seemed to home in on. And of course if Yami said anything funny or embarrassing, he would laugh or blush accordingly, earning him questions and quite possibly detention from the teacher. No, life as a schizophrenic was not all it was cracked up to be. And then there were the dreams. Lately he had been having strange dreams of Egypt, at least he assumed it was Egypt. And why would he dream about somewhere he had never been, except for the amazing coincidence that his other self was from there. 'Definitely something in that, I should talk to Yami about it. After I'm late for school.' Yugi sprinted out of the house.

It was night again. And again, Yami was in his homeland of Egypt, now standing in his chariot beside that of the Pharaoh as he waited for the command to charge. On the sloping dunes before them the enemy troops could be seen mustering, and generally mulling around impatiently, no doubt waiting for the mad Pharaoh to charge to his own death. That was certainly what Yami was waiting for. Although he loved his father as a father, he had little respect for his choices as a ruler, and Egypt's pain at the hands of the current Pharaoh weighed heavily on his mind.

Behind him the army stood, bronze spears in hand. And behind them every civilian who could wield a scythe. The nearby villages and cities had been emptied for this battle, and Egypt's army certainly seemed to have the number advantage although it would be sorely lacking in fighting skill. Yami squinted into the rising sun and sighed. His father couldn't even plan the battle so that the sun would be in the eyes of their enemies. They were lost.

To his left, the Pharaoh bellowed some ancient war cry and the army leapt to its feet and sprinted after his advancing chariot. Yami whipped up his own horses after it, holding the reins in one hand and a sword in the other. The sun glinted off the weapons as they sought their targets, some finding them and others falling to the ground with their owners. Yami drove straight through the first charge of the enemy, following his father through the throng of fighting men towards the top of the dune. One of his horses screamed as the other fell to the ground, a spear in its chest. Yami was thrown to the ground, rolling hard on the burning sand. The small grains covered his head and body, choking him. Someone stepped on his back., and Yami bucked up like an angry beast. He then reared up like a demon from the tomb, his sword swiping right and left, a blur in the sun. Sand flew in all directions, followed by cloth, weapons and anything else that happened to stand in front of him. A few of his warriors had reached him now, and fought to push the danger away.

Yami looked up, shielding his eyes with his sword, and watched as his father crested the summit of the dune. Time seemed to stop as a spear flew from the other side, striking the Pharaoh directly in the chest and sending him flying off the back of his chariot and rolling down the hill, just as his son had done. But the Pharaoh did not rise.

Yami watched in horror as enemy soldiers surrounded the Pharaoh, dragging his body up. The young prince fought through his guards, taking many soldiers unawares as he was considerably far behind the front lines. He got close enough to see the spear in his father's chest.

The new Pharaoh bowed his head as the battle raged about him, the wind picking up sand and tossing it to and fro into the troops, blinding some and pushing others onto the points of their own swords. Through the storm Yami stood tall, the winds swirling about him, his rare golden bangs shining in the sun, watching the battle with eyes as hard as stone.

A golden box fell at his feet, having been dropped there by some playful wind perhaps. Yami stared at it, its golden sides nearly blinding the new Pharaoh. As he bent to pick it up a spear flew through the air, passing through the space his heart had occupied a second earlier. Yami saw nothing but the box, and as he picked it up, everything seemed to stop completely, a throwing knife was suspended in the air only a hand's width from his right shoulder. He looked around, but could see no one moving. The wind blew a whisper from the North, a cold voice calling his name.

"Yami…You will become the ruler of Egypt, and you will become our new toy."

Time started again, and everything came rushing to life, sand blowing harshly, men screaming, metal striking metal. And a quiet gasp as a knife embedded itself in Yami's shoulder.

Yugi woke up. Another strange dream.

"Geeze, Yami, I'm starting to think you had a very traumatizing past. That _was_ your past, wasn't it?"

Silence.

"Yami? I know you're there. You're gonna have to answer me sooner or later. Sooner would be nice. It is 4 in the morning, and I personally would like to go back to sleep."

"Yami rolled over onto his back " I suppose it was. Does it matter? We were taught to forget the past, so many bad things happened in it. Often sons would disown their fathers, or wives their sons, or everyone else, for that matter. What matters is now, Aibou."

"But a lot of good things happened in the past! I remember all sorts of great things! If you forgot the past, you'd forget your parents, or your friends! Why would you want that?" There was no answer, and Yami lay back in bed, staring at his ceiling. Yugi waited for a response. Almost subconsciously his mind picked out a tune and he hummed it quietly, speaking the last few words without thought. His mind always seemed to have the right songs for the right occasions.

"What _are_ you singing now, Aibou? Honestly, it's like living with a musical box!"

Yugi sighed. "Just something this conversation reminded me of."

"I'm glad I have my memories, because if I ever have to leave my friends or they me, they'll still be with me in my memory. Aren't you glad to remember your parents and friends in your memory?"

"My parents died when I was young, and I had no friends. Go back to sleep, Yugi, you have school tomorrow."

Yugi instantly regretted answering the question. If Yami felt that way about the past of course he must have had a reason for it. Of course I have a reason! Don't you remember the dream? I watched my father die! Yugi, you're an idiot sometimes!' Yugi hugged his pillow and shut his eyes.

Yami sighed to himself. He felt bad about snapping at Yugi, after all the kid hadn't known about his past, and there hadn't been a need to burden him with it. 'You would think that after my stint as a Pharaoh I'd have some idea about how not to hurt peoples feelings. But perhaps

that's exactly why I don't. It's not like I cared about anyone I worked with, or ruled, for that matter.

I'm glad Yugi isn't alone.'

Dark. Heat. Yami opened his eyes slowly. He lay in under a pavilion next to a river. The air was hot and dry. Around him he could hear the groans of injured men, and the weeping of women. 'Why would there be women in a battle?' Yami sat up slowly and looked around. Or at least that was what he planned to do. He never got past the getting up stage, as everything went black and his heartbeat throbbed in his head. Some part of him registered voices around him.

"Don't move sire. You were stabbed by a knife in the shoulder, and lost a lot of blood. Thank Ra you survived. Your brothers were not so lucky."

Yami ventured to open his eyes again and found one of his father's older councilors standing above him. One, he remembered, who had been excused from the battle.

"What has happened? Where have you taken me?"

"Peace, sire. The wind had been blowing up about you while you were on the battlefield, you remember?" Yami nodded, and the councilor continued. "When you fell the wind became a full blown desert sand storm. The enemy were completely buried, most of them alive. You, and the bodies of your father and brothers were found, not a grain upon you. We feared you were dead, but it has turned out not to be the case. You are now Pharaoh. And we are in a small farming village. Soon we will return to Thebes, and you will be crowned. Long life, sire."

Yami nodded wearily and the councilor removed himself from the pavilion. All his male relatives dead. And he was Pharaoh. 'Well, you did know that if you survived this you would end up being Pharaoh. If father had, he would certainly have died soon after anyway. This was just his way of going out loudly, I suppose. But why did he have to take so many with him?'

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Yami was soon returned to Thebes, and crowned almost immediately in a quiet ceremony. There had been no warning of the previous Pharaoh's impending death (at least not to those who were unaware of the Shadow Games) and by the time the disastrous battle plans had leaked out it was too late to begin planning for the next Pharaoh and a crowning ceremony. And, since Egypt was too powerful to be left without a ruler for long, Yami was hastily shoved up on the throne with his crook in one hand and his flail in the other. On his head sat the heavy crown of Egypt, pushing his bangs down into his face. Still, he managed to look dignified, and even stern, his eyes as hard as stone and red as blood.

All in the court had feared him since he was born, for he was unnaturally calm and quiet, and intelligent. He saw the problems with his father's reign, he saw the flaws in the councilors' advice, he saw those trying to secure wealth and power for themselves; and all were punished, although none could blame the first's demise on him. It was almost as if he had a third eye, which was a disturbing thought as two demon eyes were quite enough. Many were suspicious of his odd appearance, for his skin was unusually light in tone, even when tanned by the sun, and his hair, that was a wonder in itself. No one had ever heard of a Pharaoh with hair of two colors, and certainly not three. But it was the colors themselves that disturbed the court. Gold, for his wealth as Pharaoh surely (although no Pharaoh had ever had golden hair), black for his strength, but the blood red outline of the black seemed to say his strength was covered in blood. Or would be. His future was black, so the prophets said. And the prophets had the idea that Yami knew exactly what they were saying.

Although Yami was still recovering from his wound, he insisted on giving orders and participate in hearings, intent on fixing Egypt's many troubles as soon as possible. For a while nothing exceptional occurred, apart from the usual few men and women trying to kill Yami to extract vengeance for the death of their loved ones (from either his army or that that had been buried), but they were adeptly taken care of by the guard. It was nearly a month before the wind picked up again, and brought with it the cold voice he had heard at the battle.

"Yami, Yami, Come play with us. It will be fun. You want to, don't you?"

No one else in the court heard it, and Yami ignored it, at least until he returned to his chambers for the night. There he found the golden box he had picked up at the battle sitting on a table, glowing eerily in the moonlight. It was nearly freezing to the touch, and Yami pulled his hand away sharply. He moved across the room and sat on an elaborate couch, staring moodily at it. It shimmered invitingly.

'Curiosity is not a good trait in a ruler, Yami. Ignore the box, there's something strange about it.' His common sense- at least that was what he assumed it was- told him this, as it told him who was plotting behind his back, who was ready to kill for a promotion in court, and who had stolen the fresh prunes at his ceremony. His common sense told him many things, and it was easy to listen to. Yami closed his eyes and looked away.

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Yugi looked out at the rising sun as he pulled his shirt over his oddly shaped hair. The sunrise was always pretty on clear mornings. But it was the last thing on Yugi's mind.

"I'm sorry about last night, Yami. I shouldn't have asked."

"It's alright Yugi, it was a valid question. And I don't have anything to hide."

The bell rang. Yugi, Joey, Honda and Tea tumbled down the front steps of the school, walking towards the courts. Yami appeared next to Yugi in a flash of light, causing Joey to fall over onto Tea, earning him a slapping.

"Do your friends still insist on dragging you out to play that barbaric game?" Yami questioned Yugi, who looked taken aback.

"Yami! Basketball is not barbaric! And it was invented millennia after Egyptian games, which all seem to be very dust forming, if you ask me."

"Ah yes, but at least there is some sort of intellectual stimulation in a game of Sennen. I do not, however, see any to be found in a game where people are constantly bruising fingers and bouncing large orange balls off each other's heads. Perhaps this game has rid you of all your brain-cells. It certainly seems to have had that effect on Joey." They all looked at the blond youth who now lay on the ground, spaced out with a rather red cheek.

"Hey now, that's not fair!" Joey looked half confused and half confident, which was pretty funny, "I'm pretty sure it was hockey that did that!"

Yami cocked an eyebrow at him and Yugi laughed at his bewildered remark.

"Yugi! Yami! Aw man, you're all against me!"

"If you insist Joey'!" Honda ran off with the ball, passing it to Yugi, who passed to Tea.

"Hey! Get back here! That's not what I meaaannnnnnnt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

They day was cold, for an Egyptian summer, and Yami had sequestered himself in his palatial rooms and lay on his bed, staring miserably out the large window at the gray skies and palm trees, the long browning leaves flapping noisily in the wind. The young Pharaoh sighed. The weather was much worse in many other parts of Egypt and most of Thebes had taken to Yami's example and hidden in their stone houses. Unfortunately, although it got him out of doing any work it also meant that he had no entertainment, and even listening to villagers whine would give him something to do. As it was though...

"Yami, Yami, Why don't you play with us? You're bored, are you not?"

Yami looked up. The golden box still sat on its table untouched, the servants feared to move anything of the Pharaoh's lest it should anger him and loose them their heads. It had been a few days since he had heard it last. It seemed to be getting more desperate. At least, that was what Yami thought. The box was certainly interesting, he dearly wanted to open it, but he could contain himself easily. Still, he felt that most others did not have the self-restraint he did, and doubtless fell to the box's persuasion easily. The box was probably getting annoyed.

'Listen to yourself. You're starting to talk about boxes like they were people. Boxes don't get annoyed, they are inanimate objects. Honestly, I wonder about you sometimes. Me. Now I'm talking to myself. It's the box's fault! Now you're blaming the box. And you are talking to yourself again.' Yami closed his eyes and put his face in his hands. This stupid box was driving him insane. Still, there was something strange about it.

"That's it, I'm opening it. If I don't, I'll end up jumping into a fire." Yami walked over to the box and picked it up. It was warm, and shone in the sunlight. 'What sunlight?' It was still cloudy. The box was shining on its own.

Yami opened the lid slowly, shielding his eyes with one hand. Nothing. He looked inside. It was empty. But not only was it empty, it was pitch black in its nothingness. Yami stared at the darkness. It was captivating. He put a hand into the box. It was so cold it almost burned. With an exclamation he dropped the box. Darkness spread up the walls and throughout the room. Yami fell back, but there was no floor to land on.

The young Pharaoh fell through the darkness, silent in an eternity filled with nothing else. Finally he slowed and was lowered onto a floor. Around him he could see the purple floor extending as far as he could see in all directions. But no one else. Looking down he saw the box at his feet, lid now shut. Yami bent down and opened the box. The inside was filled with a glowing light now. He reached into it, pausing as it seemed to tickle his hand, and then reaching in further. His fingers clasped around something square, and he pulled it. The square turned out to be a pyramid of gold, which he could hold in his hands although it was rather heavy, a crude drawing of the eye of Ra on its front. Yami stared at it.

"You'll need that if you are to play."

Yami looked around. There was still no one anywhere nearby.

"Who is there? And why shall I need it?"

"If you must see something to comprehend this, here."

A form slowly faded in, as if it had just walked through a thick mist. The form solidified, becoming a man a little taller and older that Yami with shortly cropped black hair and a longer more elaborate white skirt than that of Yami's.

"You need the pyramid to give yourself magic. And you need magic to play the game. It's all rather simple, now isn't it?" The man spoke, his voice a little irritated, and a long suffering look on his face. Yami clearly did not think it was so simple, but didn't venture to say so.

"Where is this then? And what game do you want to play?"

"This is the Shadow Realm. It finds rulers, kings, Pharaohs, whatever, and gives them a magical conductor to play with, and with which to open a portal to the Shadow Realm. They can then come here at any time they chose to, and play me, or each other, if they happen to be here at the same time. Sometimes they arrange tournaments. I believe your father played in some of them... But, we digress. We can play any game you want, although I warn you, we play for high stakes."

Yami arched a narrow eyebrow. This was starting to sound very suspicious, and something at the back of his mind was ringing, it sounded amazingly like a warning bell. Still, he had no way out right now, and this man probably wouldn't let him out until he played a game with him.

"Very well, I accept. What is your name, what game, and what stakes?" Yami crossed his arms, holding the puzzle in one hand.

"I do not have a name, I am simply a spirit that resides here. You may call me Sehka if you must call me something. We shall play a racing game, if you win, the storm that forced you in here will lift, if I win, it will become a monsoon. Fair?" He did not wait for an answer before he pulled out a small golden hare which thumped its back legs expectantly against Sehka's outstretched palm.

"You must catch this hare, alive, before me. You may use any magic you wish, but you may not harm or kill it. There are no boundaries. I will release it, count to five, and we will begin." He lowered his hand to the ground and the hare bounded out of it, scampering away from the two humans.

"One, two, three, four, five." Sehka dashed off, small wings appearing on his feet allowing him to fly a little above the ground. Yami sprinted after him, but feet were no match for wings.

The young Pharaoh skid to a stop and stared at the puzzle in his hands. 'Magic. Why would I need this for magic?' Yami had been entertained by sorcerers from a young age and knew that the court ones used a series of tricks for their illusions. He had, however, sought out an old magician who had, reluctantly, taught him his own magic. They magician had died years ago, but Yami had continued to practice and was quite strong in it. Closing his eyes he concentrated on the hare. He needed to be able to travel as fast as it. Wings were a good idea, but the wings Sehka used were too small. He needed full-sized ones.

Picturing the wings in his mind he chanted slowly, and was surprised to fell the pyramid in his hand warm up. It was helping him. A warm feeling, as if he was sitting in the sun on warm sand, filled him and he floated off the path. When he opened his eyes he found that large white feathered wings had appeared on his back, and were flapping gently to hold him above the ground. With a simple thought the wings propelled him forwards past Sehka and over the terrified hare, the whites of its eyes seeming huge and ghastly as it looked around for its pursuers. Yami swept down easily and grabbed the startled animal with his free hand (the other was still holding the golden puzzle.) He landed and the wings disappeared in showers of gold and silver. Sehka came up and landed next to him, staring at him with angry eyes.

"How could you possibly know how to, to..." He couldn't finish the question. It would imply that the outcome of the game were already known, as he had assumed Yami hadn't known how to use magic and had he had used an unfair advantage. However, his cut off sentence said exactly that even without an end.

"You didn't expect me to know how to use this, did you? I bet you win all your games, since none of your opponents have a clue about magic. So why do they keep playing you? It is addictive. They can't stop. That is what has been bothering me. Everything here hints at great wealth. And it hints that if someone could keep wining your games, they could get the wealth for themselves. The golden hare, the golden puzzle, your rich robes, everything. And almost all leaders would play their lives away to get such wealth. Almost. I, however, think it is disgraceful. Playing games and abandoning your kingdom."

Yami turned and took the puzzle in his hands. 'Take me out. Let me leave the Shadow Realm.' The puzzle glowed brightly causing Yami to close his eyes. When he opened them he was in his room, the box closed on its table and the golden puzzle still in his hands.

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Yugi lay in bed with a fever. His Grandpa had been in earlier, and given him permission to stay home from school. If he needed anything though, he'd have to get it for himself since his Grandpa had to run the shop. 'Or have Yami get it. But I really shouldn't trust Yami with cooking. It could be a disaster.'

The millennium puzzle on his table glowed and Yami appeared at Yuugi's bedside.

"Aibou, you will be late for school if you do not get up." Yami started pulling at Yuugi's blankets while Yugi attempted in vain to swat him away.

"I can't Yami, I'm sick. I have a fever. Grandpa says I can stay home."

Yami looked horrified.

"A fever? We must call a healer! What is your Grandfather thinking?" Yami straightened and made for the door.

"Hey, Yami, come back! It's okay! It's just the flu! I don't need a doctor! Get back here!"

Too late, Yami had made it out the door, and out of hearing range of Yuugi's raspy voice.

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Of course, when Yami had said healer, he had meant himself acting with whatever medicinal things he could find in the street shops of the town. Yami had a notorious distrust of healers (other than himself.) This caused the once-Pharaoh to be wondering the streets, looking for promising stores. Of course, to Yami, promising meant they stocked dried lizards and bottles of various bottom crawling insects. Live things were always a plus too. 'What is Yuugi's Grandfather thinking? People _die_ from fevers!' With that thought he sprinted further down the street.

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Yugi had fallen asleep waiting for Yami to return.

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"Sire? Sire?"

Yami looked up blearily. Someone was calling him. This scene seemed very familiar for some reason. His vision focused for a minute, and he identified the voice as belonging to his councilor, Aloke. His councilor was an older man, but carried himself with quiet dignity and power, he had served two Pharaohs before Yami and knew how things were to be done.

"Sire, are you well?"

Yami lost his focus again, and the room swirled around him. He groaned and closed his eyes. Everything went black.

When Yami woke up again it was much later. The sun had almost set. People were in his room. His, the Pharaoh's room, without his permission?!? Yami opened his eyes, fully intending to give them a good talking to, but he found when he opened his eyes that everything was still blurry and the most he could see was blobs of color moving about.

"Who is there? And why are you in my room without my permission?" His voice sounded harsh and raspy, and not very threatening.

"I am the head of the royal healers, Sire. We were told that you were, Ahem, ill. As you indeed are. So if you could just lie back and, er, relax. We will do all we can to help you."

Yami made a small groaning sound under his breath but said nothing aloud.

He soon drifted off again.

When he awoke it was bright, and the room felt like a desert. Or maybe that was him. Yami wasn't quite sure. In any case, he couldn't hear anyone in his room anymore, which was a relief.

Soft footsteps echoed through the silence of the room, and Yami opened his eyes. Which didn't help him, as they were still refusing to focus.

"Sire, how are you feeling today? You do not look any better, but the healers know best..."

Yami thought about making some stinging remark, but decided he was too tired to think of one.

"Yes, Aloke, I believe you are right, and I feel no better than I look, I'm sure. I feel awful, in fact. What have the healers done, may I ask?" His councilor was standing nearby, he could hear him moving about restlessly. Yami's breathing was becoming laboured.

"They put some incense, and various charms everywhere Sire. I really do not know much about the art of healing though, Sire."

"Charms? Incense? What good is that going to do for anyone, except perhaps the royal cat who might like to chase them across the floor." Yami would have argued more, but his eyes were closing and he felt sick. As his body fell back against the bed he vaguely heard Aloke shouting for someone.

Rough hands were shaking his shoulders. He opened his eyes a miniscule bit to see a brown porcelain vase being held to his lips. It smelt awful.

"Drink this, Sire."

Yami didn't open his mouth. 'If you think that I am going to drink that, you have another-'

He stopped in mid-thought as his mouth was forced open and a foul tasting liquid poured down his throat. The Pharaoh immediately began coughing, doubling over his legs. He coughed until he thought he would be sick, and then was.

Yami could hear Aloke arguing with someone, no doubt the healers in between coughs.

"You are killing him! What was that?"

"Simply a potion to take the evil spirits from him. See, it has worked, he has been cleansed."

Yami couldn't stop coughing. He felt there was something in him he had to cough up, but couldn't feel anything. Soon he was coughing up blood.

"He's dying! Your potion is killing him!"

"Impossible! See, he is stopping now."

Yami showed no signs of stopping.

The healer ran over and started hitting him halfheartedly on the back. Yami glared at him in between coughs.

"Water ... get me water..." more blood.

"He cannot have water, it reacts badly with the potion!" The healer glared at Yami.

"Well, at least _water_ doesn't tend to kill the people who drink it, and if he thinks it will stop your foul potion, he certainly may have it." Aloke ran out into the hall to relieve some servant of their water. He sprinted back in with a jug full of the clear liquid. The healer made a grab at the jug, but Yami kicked him in the back of his knee and he fell to the ground. Aloke stood next to the Pharaoh with the water, one foot on the healer.

Yami held his breath for a minute, his body shaking with the subdued coughs, and then grabbed the jar and drank, spilling water down his front. He immediately began coughing again and rolled over onto the floor where he knelt on his hands and knees, coughing up a purple/green liquid. The potion the healers had given him. Yami drank more water and repeated the process. The he fell to the ground next to the potion, breathing deeply, eyes closed. His head ached. Aloke was kneeling next to him, asking something. Yami didn't hear it, but responded with an order anyway.

"Take that," he motioned weakly to the liquid next to him, "and have someone with brains figure out what's in it. And lock the healers up." Aloke lifted Yami easily up onto his bed again, and then escorted the healers out and some servants came to collect the potion. Yami watched the servants until he fell asleep.

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"Ha! Perfect!" Yami came out of an old dusty store with a bag in his hand. He had "managed" to beat the elderly store owner in a game, and had won the things he thought he might need. Now he was returning to Yugi's house.

There he found Yugi sleeping, an open book on his covers. Yami took it off and woke Yugi.

"Look what I found! Don't worry, you will be alright now." He held up a dried lizard. Yugi turned green.

"What exactly do you plan to do with that?"

"You're going to eat it. What did you think?"

"Eewwwww."

Yugi stared longingly out the window. Yami was sitting in a chair by the door, eyes closed seemingly in sleep, but was no doubt ready to spring into action should his charge show any sign of attempting to escape. Yugi had had his last two meals literally forced down his throat by the Egyptian Pharaoh, and shuddered to think about what they contained. Yugi had twice tried to sneak out the door and once out the window, but Yami had caught him and it had earned Yugi nothing but a good deal of time with Yami sitting staring at him unblinkingly. That had been darn _scary_.

So now Yugi was lying obediently in bed making faces at Yami, whose eyebrow was twitching. Finally he snapped when Yugi began making loud annoying noises.

"Stop that Aibou. It is not my fault you cannot avoid common illnesses, or deal with them, apparently."

Yugi stuck his tongue out further.

"If you do not go to sleep I may be forced to go and find some more lizard for you. You look a bit peaked."

"How would you know, your eyes aren't even open. C'mon Yami, I'm tired! I want to go outside!"

"If you are tired, go to sleep. It would solve the problem."

"That's not what I meant."

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