Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I can't escape this hell/ So many times I've tried/ But I'm still caged inside/ Somebody get me through this nightmare/ I can't control myself

(Animal I Have Become, Brano di Three Days Grace)

The seventy days of preparation were over. His father was ready to embark on his final journey on Ra's barque and witness Osiris's judgment.

The priests of the House of Life had left him alone with the closed sarcophagus, as he had ordered, going against established ritual.

No one had dared to say anything. Even though he hadn't yet been crowned, he was the pharaoh now, and his word was law.

Sweet Ra, he was the pharaoh now. He wasn't ready, damn it. He couldn't do it, he wasn't strong enough.

Atem placed a hand on the sarcophagus. "The Darkness is descending upon us, Father. The Millennium Items are being called upon to face a threat unlike anything we've ever seen. I will have to fight against something that could destroy Egypt and the rest of the world."

 He lowered his head, resting his forehead on the cold surface. “I’m not ready. Gods help me, I can’t… I’m not you.”

He was barely a man. Mahad had told him many times that he must control himself if he was to wield the power of the Millennium Items.

Atem had never been good at restraint. Control didn’t come easily.

What if he let himself be overwhelmed? What if, deep down, there was a seed of evil within him waiting to be awakened?

What if, in the end, he condemned everyone?

“When the sun dies, there’s no replacing it with candles. One can only wait for the dawn to dawn.”

Atem stood up at the sound of that voice, but didn't turn around. It was his uncle who approached, and continued speaking, “You shouldn't be here, nephew. It's not tradition.”

“Nor you,” Atem retorted, caressing the sarcophagus's face. “Only priests of the House of Life are permitted. Usually.”

“And yet, here we are. Bidding our last farewell to my brother. May Osiris's judgment be just, and may he receive the just reward for his deeds.”

He didn't like the tone his uncle was using. There was too much amusement behind it, as if he knew a secret joke that only he liked and was laughing at it.

He replied, “My father was a fair pharaoh. He ruled according to the principles of Ma'at and made Egypt prosperous. The fields of Aaru await him.”

 “A fair pharaoh,” the priest repeated. “A pharaoh who was beloved by his subjects, but not by those who truly knew him.”

At those words, Atem finally turned, glaring at him with barely contained anger. “Mark your words, uncle. Even if you are the high priest, I will not hesitate to have your tongue cut out for offending my father.”

Looking at the other man was a thorn in his heart. His father and Akanadin were twins, and though time had always been kinder to the pharaoh, the bond between them was evident.

The only thing that reminded him that the man before him was not his father was the Millennium Eye, which emitted a faint glow.

Not enough to make him say with certainty that Akanadin was using his power, but Atem was sure he saw it, and that made him more wary.

 The priest's smile was completely wrong, "The gods reward those who speak the truth, nephew. I said nothing that wasn't true."

"Be careful, uncle," he looked at him coldly. "I won't be patient if you continue with your provocations."

"You can't stand those who speak the truth, just like him. I wonder...how far would you go? Your father did many things, some worthy of honor, many others he had to keep hidden, for fear of the judgment of his people. For fear of disappointing you."

He moved closer, as if wanting to be near the sarcophagus, but Atem stepped in front of him. The thought of him touching his father's sarcophagus nauseated him.

Akanadin continued, "Do you know how the Millennium Items were created, nephew?”

Atem felt taken aback by such a sudden change of subject.

“Father said they were a gift from Isis to Egypt to repel the forces of the god Seth,” he replied, repeating a story familiar from all the times he'd asked his father and Mahad to tell it to him.

His uncle chuckled, “A gift, sure! But not from Isis. Your father made that gift all by himself!”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, fighting the urge to shout at him to shut up.

 “Your father didn't receive the Millennium Items from Isis,” the high priest continued. “He created them. With my help. And do you know how he did it? He performed a human sacrifice…

“No…”

“…by killing ninety-nine people, chosen from the village of Kul Elna, home to the last descendants of the Plana tribe, the guardians of the Millennium Stone.” The smile deepened. “Not true Egyptians, but what your father himself called the rotten scum and the shame of Egypt. Their deaths would have counted for nothing in the grand scheme of things, for the glory of the country.”

Atem felt his legs tremble, but he remained standing, as a fire began to fill his veins, and a voice in his mind whispered, “You should put him back in his place.”

 “Enough, that's enough,” he ordered, but the priest didn't listen. “He was cowardly enough to leave before the massacre began, letting me do all the dirty work, but he still reaped the benefits. He didn't give the order to stop me; he didn't want to. My brother also wanted the power of the Millennium Items, no matter the cost. Think, nephew, now you have to fight the Darkness with objects stained with human blood and…”

He didn't let him finish his sentence: Atem punched him in the face.

Akanadin took a few steps back, perking up. Atem's hand was sore, his knuckles red, but the voice in his mind whispered again, “It felt good, didn't it? Why not continue? Shows what happens when you provoke the Pharaoh.”

Mahad said a fair ruler didn't abuse his power over the weak. He had taught him that anger was a bad counselor.

He had to maintain control. He had to…

“You know,” the priest gave him a bloodstained smile, “Now you really look like your father's son. I see the same killer instinct in your eyes. You too are a monster, just like he was…”

He didn't let him continue with that blasphemy. Atem punched him again, followed by another, and another.

He couldn't stop. He didn't want to. The impact against soft tissue was painful, but his mind was a whirring white noise, his body driven by the sole impulse to strike, strike, strike!

Akanadin had told unforgivable lies. By law, he had to pay with his life, and Atem was more than happy to carry out the judgment.

 Blood splashed on his clothes, his face, some on the sarcophagus. Despite this, he didn't stop.

Akanadin continued to laugh, and it was unbearable.

Atem would have torn that smile from his face, if it were the last thing he did.

"Pharaoh!"

He was carrying out the will of the gods: Isis, because her gifts had been labeled blasphemous, Osiris, because the deceased's final journey had been disturbed, Horus...

"Atem!"

He stopped, his fist in midair. Only a few people called him by his name.

He raised his head, and Set was there, looking at him. There was no judgment in his gaze, no fear.

He looked at him expectantly, as if he were facing a familiar yet strange beast, but he didn't fear him.

Atem knew, suddenly like a bolt of lightning, that he had to stop.

 He dropped Akandin to the ground, not caring if he was still breathing, and left the House of Life.

There were guards outside, their eyes widening at the sight of him in that state.

Atem didn't care. "Call a healer. The high priest needs treatment."

He didn't wait to see their reaction. He left them behind, feeling almost disembodied.

His head was light, he walked like a sleepwalker.

The beast inside him wasn't satisfied.

"You were too merciful to him. You should have wrung his neck, gouged out his eyes, flayed him, and displayed his hide outside the palace as a warning to those..."

He sensed another presence at his side. He didn't need to see to know who it was.

"You should wait with the high priest for the healer's arrival," he croaked, his voice sounding foreign even to him. 

“The guards are with him,” Set replied. “Someone has to go with you. You're dirty.”

“What, you want to help me clean up?” he asked, halfway between a joke and a genuine invitation.

He knew well how the other always reacted.

“If you want. You're Pharaoh, your every command is law.”

He stopped, “Yes, I am the Pharaoh…so what I did in the House of Life was fine too. Because I am the Pharaoh. So if I decide to kill someone…”

“You wouldn't have done it,” Set's voice was so firm that it forced Atem to finally look at him.

There was no trace of doubt in the priest's eyes, but an iron determination, a love (was it love or what he hoped to see?) that silenced every other thought in his mind.

“You don't know,” he replied uncertainly. “If you hadn't come, I could have done it.”

 “No,” Set denied again. “You are not a murderer.”

Atem released the breath he had been holding without realizing it.

Set was wrong. He was evil, and something lurked in the darkness of his soul, just waiting to be released.

But sweet Isis, how he truly wanted to be the man the priest believed him to be.

Chapter Text

So what if you can see the darkest side of me?/ No one would ever change this animal I have become/ Help me believe it's not the real me/ Somebody help me tame this animal

( Animal I Have Become, by Three Days Grace)

Seto was panting, his heart pumping blood at full speed. Pegasus in front of him looked at him carelessly, almost bored. 

"You're back," the man noted, without any tone, staring at him with the one good eye, while the other shone with a spark that Seto's alarmed mind warned him was not a good sign at all, but soon that voice was extinguished by something else, a more angry scream, indignation, anger at what Pegasus had done, "What an unexpected result."

"Where is my brother?" he croaked, clutching his arm, feeling a stranger to his own body. It was obvious that it was so, his soul had been unceremoniously torn from him and put inside a card.

Not that it was what had really happened. There had to be an explanation, rational, scientific, for everything that had happened, but Seto's mind refused to find it.

All he could think about was Mokuba is not here, I have to find him.

Pegasus smiled mockingly, "Who knows. He, after all, is not important."

"How dare you..."

"I'm simply telling the truth, Kaiba-boy. The real target has always been you. Your dear, sweet little brother is collateral damage."

He froze. 

He had always known that Mokuba would be the first person to be injured if Seto got it wrong. First at the orphanage, then when they were adopted by Gozabouro, and later, when Seto took over Kaiba Corp. 

But he had promised. 

"As long as I live, no one will hurt you anymore. I will protect you, at any cost."

Seto had promised his brother, and he had done everything to keep that promise.

Well, a voice whispered in his mind. You haven't done enough. Mokuba is lost, and it's your fault.

He wanted to shout to be quiet.  He wanted to tear the smile from Pegasus' face and make him pay.

Bravo, the voice came back to tell him, Pegasus must pay. He knows where Mokuba is, but he doesn't want to tell you. That madman enjoys your pain. You have to make them pay.

"You know," he insisted, unwilling to yield to blind violence like a violent dog. He wasn't that damn Wheeler. "Tell me where Mokuba is, and I won't unleash hordes of lawyers to take every penny from you on your behalf."

The threat did not even affect Pegasus. The man smiled lazily, "You can even try. I don't care about the money, nor about the company. I have more power than you imagine, Kaiba-boy."

"I don't care about your so called power," he growled, feeling too much like an animal with his back to the wall, ready to bite the first one who tried to touch him, "I want my brother back."

"As I said, I have no idea where he is. Sometimes, the Millennium Eye enjoys doing as it pleases. It almost seems that it has a will of its own," Pegasus chuckled, giving air to a lot of nonsense, "Maybe dear Mokuba is still around, maybe his soul is scattered... Who knows?"

"You, you should know," Seto yelled, walking with wide strides and now finding himself face to face with Pegasus, "You involved him in all this, you took him from me. You know, don't tell me any more bullshit. You're too meticulous to leave anything to chance."

Pegasus made a mocking cry, "I have already told you, when it wants, the Eye acts as it pleases. I don't understand it either, but as long as it allows me to follow my goals..."

"Bullshit. You're just trying to cover up your weakness!"

Pegasus laughed at that point. A hearty laugh, which spread everywhere, like a baleful omen, unpleasant and crazy at the same time. 

He looked at him as if the crazy one between the two was Seto, "Who is the weak between the two, Kaiba-boy? Me, who am the user of a powerful magical object that is the material of legends and, despite everything, I use its power, or you who can't even keep a twelve-year-old boy safe? Who is the more pathetic of the two..."

Seto then hit him in the face, making him retreat a few steps. 

His mind was a confused mix of thoughts, anxiety, agitation. Something deep inside told him that he had to stop, because he was about to fall into a trap.

Another part of him didn't give a damn at all. 

Punish him, the voice whispered to him again. Punish him for what he did to Mokuba, to you, and to so many others. Put him back in his place, and remind him who Seto Kaiba is.

The thing was tempting, albeit barbaric.

He was not the type to give himself over to unbridled violence. It was not his style. He preferred another type of approach. Seto would ruin Pegasus forever, as he deserved, the punch had been a momentary satisfaction, while it could...

Pegasus laughed, as blood poured out of his nose, "Oh, heavens. It seems that, after all, old Kaiba taught you his methods well, didn't he?"

Seto quivered, "Shut up."

"Why? I didn't tell a lie. Even if you are not his blood child, you are just like Gozabouro Kaiba. A monster with a human face, without morals, murderous..."

Seto struck him again, knocking him to the ground. He didn't give him time to get up when he kicked him. He was not like Gozabouro.

He was better. He had taken a company that produced weapons and converted it, in spite of the old partners who wanted to continue to make money with the blood of children.

Seto wasn't like him, he wasn't, he...

But are you really sure? , the voice whispered to him, languid, You have no qualms about taking what you think is yours. You are selfish, twisted, bad. Just because you do good things every once in a while, doesn't mean you're good. You're just an opportunist, Seto. It is useless to deny it. Then, embrace the darkness within you, and be like Gozabouro. Only then can you put Pegasus in its place.

And Seto was tempted to give in. Every kick, every suppressed laugh, was pure gold for him. Pegasus will stop laughing, he will avenge himself and Mokuba, and even if he gets his hands dirty... it must have been worth it...

"Kaiba."

It must have been worth it, because he had made sacrifices, he had sold his soul to the literal devil because it was the best thing to do, and he would do it again, even a hundred more times...

"Seto!"

He froze, just before kicking Pegasus' stupid face.

Yuugi was looking at him impassively (not Yuugi, a part of himself reminded him, despite his best attempts to chase it away, to rationalize. It was what everyone called Yami.) , heedless of Seto's crazy gaze or the blood that soiled his pants.

The blood of Pegasus.

"Seto, it's over. I won," Yuugi said, looking intently at him, scarlet eyes that reminded him of rubies, "Pegasus will no longer hurt anyone."

"It's not over," he blurted out, his voice sounding like a stranger's, too much like that of the man he had helped have killed, "Until Mokuba comes home with me, it won't be over. And he won't tell me where he is!"

"Mokuba is safe with others."

He blinked, confused, "What?"

"Mokuba is with Tea and the others," Yuugi repeated, patiently, "Your brother needs you, he is very confused as to why he appeared so far away from you, and he is afraid."

"Fear... I... Mokuba needs me."

"Yes, so get out of there, and let's catch up with the others."

Seto wanted to do it. He didn't care about that gang of losers – 90% of his problems were currently caused by them – his fixed thought was that Mokuba was fine, Mokuba was there, he had to bring him home, immediately, away from all that madness...

But then Pegasus, despite his swollen face and probably several broken bones, began to laugh like a madman, "Ah, but that won't solve things, Kaiba-boy. I will not give up. As long as I have the Eye, I can return to torment you. But you know what you have to do, don't you? You know this because you're a twisted little thing, a dark thing. You're evil inside, boy. You will kill me, because you want to, not because it is the thing to do. And you will be happy, with my blood staining your hands, enjoying your victory, knowing that I can no longer hurt Mokuba dear."

The thought horrified him, but not as much as he would have liked.

Would it have been so different from what had happened with Gozabouro? 

A necessary evil for a greater good. 

It was his justification at the time, and it could be now. Killing Pegasus would be so easy, it could even pass it off as an accident. 

He was able to, no one could say anything, and Yuugi had no resources to say anything against him, who was Seto Kaiba, he was...

"Stop using your tricks, Pegasus," Yuugi said, this time harshly, "You just want Seto to become like you, so that the Eye can control him better. You won't succeed. Seto is not a monster."

Seto looked at him, confused. Why did he defend him? He had seen what he was willing to do. He had dueled him for what he had done to his grandfather, for God's sake.

Did he really not see the twisted creature that Seto was?

Pegasus chuckled, "So much faith in Kaiba-boy. Be careful that it is not misplaced. See... if dear Kaiba is not really a monster... who knows what he will decide to do..."

Yuugi just looked at him, confidently. He was convinced that Seto would do the right thing. Where that trust came from, Seto had no idea.

However, he found himself wishing he deserved it. What a silly thought, who knows where it came from.

But that silly thought, coming from who knows where, from who knows when, gave him a minimum of lucidity, and he moved away from Pegasus. 

"Take me to my brother," he said to Yuugi.

"Of course. He's waiting for you."

Seto followed, leaving Pegasus behind, upset at how he had made a bet and lost.

He yelled at him, "I still have the Millennium Eye, Kaiba-boy. I am still a threat. I will never give up!"

It was Yuugi who replied, "If you attack us again, you will find us prepared. What needs to be careful is you, Pegasus, not us."

And with that, they left, the game (for this time), closed.

And if Seto found himself reaching out to take his wrist, for an instinct that even he didn't understand well, well, that was a matter only between him and Yuugi.