This fic was inspired by a submission on the yu-gi-oh-headcanon Tumblr page. Not directly based on the post, but certainly heavily inspired by it.

I'm also going to say it's somewhat AU.

Warning: Death. Not much else, really.

Atem screamed.

Everything moved in a blur as he pulled his horse to a halt and leapt off the small chariot. He didn't register the sprain in his ankle as it twisted when it hit the soft sand. He didn't even hear the protests of the servants as they ran after him.

All he could think about was the broken body lying still in the hot sand.

"Heba!"

He collapsed beside his brother, taking the younger boy's head in his hands.

No, no, no, no, no. Oh please Ra, NO!

Heba's face was creased with his last grimace, made not as he fell from his own chariot but as Atem's barrelled over him before the young Prince could stop it.

They'd been told not to ride so close when they were still learning.

Atem hadn't listened – he never had. Not when their instructor had given them the warning; not when he'd been yelled at from the sidelines; not even when Heba had pleaded with him to fall back because he was getting nervous – and to think Heba had always listened.

Except now. Heba wasn't listening now, or he'd be opening his eyes. He'd be getting up and telling his brother he was alright and had just been joking, like they always did. Atem kept shouting, angry that Heba would dare to carry on such a sick joke for so long.

"Get up, curse you! I'm sorry I got so close, just open your eyes already!"

Atem felt hands pulling him off of his brother's corpse. He shrieked and protested violently but the boy couldn't overcome the three manservants who started carrying him away. He begged them to take Heba to the healers instead of him because he felt fine and it was the younger Prince who needed attention now and could someone please look at Heba because he had to be alive!

What would Atem do if he wasn't? What happens to someone who murders their own brother? What happens to the soul of someone so pure and bright as Heba?

How can you bear to live when you've destroyed such an innocent light through your own pathetic ignorance?

Atem screamed.

Yugi wasn't sure what he was expecting when he ran to Yami's soul room, but he wasn't expecting this. After sensing such strong desperation from his other self, he wouldn't have been too surprised to see the spirit being attacked by hordes of shadows.

That's not what he saw.

The figure sat in the middle of the main room on the cold, damp stone floor. It was rigid, its eyes wide with an emotion Yugi couldn't quite place, and it seemed to be in some kind of terrifying trance, oblivious to the world around it.

It wasn't – couldn't be – his yami. Yugi refused to accept that this petrified creature was the strong, steely spirit who'd watched over him for the past two years.

He crept towards the man, afraid to say a word for fear of waking him from his strange stupor. The spirit didn't react as he neared him, simply staring ahead at an invisible horror Yugi didn't know. When he was less than a foot away he carefully knelt beside him, looking closely at his face. Small beads of sweat rolled down the spirit's cheeks from his forehead, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly as he breathed haunting, shallow breaths.

Yugi warily moved even closer, deciding to finally speak.

"…Pharaoh?" he whispered.

Immediately the spectre's eyes looked up. They were turned in Yugi's direction, but saw right through him. Yugi swallowed. This was one side of his other self he certainly didn't like – but he wasn't going to wake him. He knew, somehow, that it was vitally important he remained entranced. He wasn't sure what to do, so he carefully started to back away—

The spirit's wiry arms were suddenly wrapped around him and he was pulled towards his chest. The spectre held him there, and Yugi was simply too stunned to speak. His heart raced as the embrace grew firmer and the spirit lowered his head towards him, his eyes still empty with that indiscernible emotion.

The spirit whispered in his ear so quietly Yugi almost missed it. He whispered a name that wasn't Yugi's – a name that sounded so foreign, yet it was as if he'd known it for all eternity; it stirred something in his very being.

Then the spirit just held him even tighter, resting his face in the boy's hair, cradling Yugi with a strange desperation, as if he might disappear if he wasn't kept in place. The name was whispered again – the name that was so alien, yet so familiar.

"Forgive me..." the spirit muttered now. "Forgive me."

This suddenly felt very wrong for Yugi. These words weren't meant for him – this pain was for someone else. He had half a mind to leave right now, or try to rouse the spirit, but even the slightest movement he made was responded with a tightening of the fierce embrace. Yugi relented and sat there. His discomfort only grew when he felt a shudder from the spirit. He began to shake, and Yugi realised he was sobbing quietly. Something landed on his nose and he knew they were tears falling from the empty eyes above him, but he didn't dare look up. This was even worse – these tears, once again, weren't for him.

Yugi wondered what on earth had happened to Yami – or rather, what the Pharaoh had apparently done – to reduce the proud Game King to this broken wraith. He'd never known him to show such remorse; in fact, he'd never known him to show such emotion at all. But as unsettling as this was, the boy wasn't surprised. The spirit would never allow himself to be seen as so vulnerable around another being. Only within the walls of his soul room – alone – would he ever think to let himself hurt; but Yugi knew this went far beyond hurt. Something gripped his other self – a memory, perhaps? He couldn't be sure.

The spectre had stopped crying and sat very still, maintaining his hold on the boy. Yugi didn't try to pull away for a long time. They waited, only one of them truly there in the almost total silence of the dank chamber. The young light could feel the spirit's chest rise and fall against him, still far from calm. He slowly built up the courage to speak.

"Yami?" was all he could muster.

The spirit drew in a shuddering breath and curled around the boy, once again bringing his lips to Yugi's ear. He spoke in a deathly whisper, yet his voice echoed through the halls of the labyrinthine soul room as if it had been roared down every corridor.

"I'm sorry."

It struck Yugi like nothing he'd ever known. He gasped as it crashed through him, reaching a depth of his soul even he'd never touched before. There it lingered, ringing through his mind until it finally sank in.

He knew exactly what it was for, yet he had no idea.

"I…" Yugi swallowed. "I forgive you."

The Pharaoh fell apart. This time, his hikari felt no discomfort being held in his arms, hearing his sobs and feeling his tears. He knew he was, in fact, allowed to be there; he was meant to be there.

Eventually Yami was able to let the boy go. Before Yugi left, he gently closed the nondescript door he found ajar in the far corner of the spirit's soul room.

It wouldn't do for the Pharaoh to find anything else tonight – he'd been through enough for now.