Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, nor do I claim rights to any of the affiliated characters.

Warnings/Notes: I've been away from this story far too long. It's rough around the edges, but I had a lot of fun with this piece. Written for bellamy-taft, whose gripping thriller "Glass" has been more of an inspiration than I can ever say. Thank you, and happy early birthday.

They woke from dozing to the chorus of The First Noel. Mokuba nestled the remaining remnants of sleep into his brother's shoulder and sat up, grateful, at least, that the noise drowned out the faint whispers of a woman's voice.

"Why is he playing music?"

"Probably got tired of the phantoms." Seto replied, cracking his neck as he stood.

Stray voices sounded outside and he paused in the effort, hoping they would pass.

"Maybe if we're quiet, they'll just go away."

A frown formed on Seto's face as footsteps slowed in front of the door and a familiar knock resounded. Mokuba pressed a finger to the tip of his nose, not daring even the noise of swinging his legs over the side of the mattress.

"If they think we're sleeping," He mouthed, "They'll leave."

They didn't.

Every door in every hallway was adorned with a wreath. The picture of gaudy, Seto couldn't help but think. Even the formal dining room was teeming with tinsel and cartoonish, Christmas tree decals designed by Pegasus himself. But the living room they found themselves in was too neutral for comfort. Compared to the rest of the castle, it barely reflected the upcoming holiday at all.

Seto might've rolled his eyes if the furniture had been covered in red and green plaid, or if the 12 foot Christmas tree in the corner had been strung with multi-colored lights and Funny Bunny figurines. He was met, instead, with gold accents and angels.

White lights shone beautifully in the dimly lit room, catching sparkles of gold glitter on woven ornaments. Porcelain angels were scattered about, and one of cloth had been made the tree topper. Nothing in the room felt like it belonged there, least of all he and Mokuba.

"What is all this?" He demanded of the guard at his side.

"Sit." The elder ordered, and after being nudged none too gently to the couch in front of the fireplace, they did.

Pegasus had yet to make his appearance, but even Mokuba knew it was coming. He reached for Seto's hand against the cushion and squeezed tight. Whatever delusion the man was under brought him twice the delight now. He pranced instead of walking, humming Christmas carols under his breath. It was an insane spectacle, but not beyond what they had been enduring for the past four months.

He chanced a look around the room, ignoring Pegasus's entrance, but was stopped by the familiar weight of eyes at his back. There was no sign of the others, and they'd never been escorted anywhere without eventually assembling as a group. His hand tightened.

"What's the matter Seto, you look so worried."

The brunet tensed at the use of his given name, but forced the comments to the back of his throat. If Pegasus singled them out, he wanted to be antagonized. "Tell me what you want and be done with it." He replied, keeping their gazes level.

Pegasus laughed lowly and crossed the room, looming over the boy as Croquet pressed both hands into his shoulders, keeping him rooted to the sofa. "Keep your temper." He crooned, a warning in his voice, "And I'll keep mine."

Mokuba trained his eyes on the fireplace, taking in the string of lights along the mantle and the red fabric of two stockings that hung in the center. As his brother removed his hand, he opened his mouth to cut off whatever harsh words were meant for Pegasus, "Why do you have those?" He asked.

Pegasus blinked, straightening to follow Mokuba's gesture, "Stockings?"

The boy forced a nod, and it was only when Seto followed his eyes that he realized why. They weren't just casual decorations he'd dug from the extensive stash in his attic. He'd had them monogrammed.

"It's Christmas Eve, silly boy. When else is Santa supposed to fill them?"

Mokuba bowed his head instinctively, feeling his face flush at such a childish notion. He may have been the youngest of the group, but he'd stopped believing in fairy tales a long time ago. He'd never, as a matter of fact, believed in Santa.

"That's stupid." He mumbled, "It's always been a stupid story. How can a man fit down a chimney anyway, and what if it was lit, he'd burn up? Reindeer don't fly, and even if they did how could he possibly visit so ma –"

"Mokuba," Pegasus interrupted sternly, "Enough." The room descended into silence as he paced back and forth in front of them. Seto counted his footsteps, eyes scanning his body for weapons or pockets with outlines of keys underneath. Anything he could use, or else store away for future reference. The man moved too fast, with steps so sharp they might've commanded their own axis. It was a losing game. "All the time I spent trying to give you something special – all the planning that went into this night –" he turned, ripping the stockings from the mantle in one, swift motion, "and you throw it right back in my face. Do you want me to take something away instead?" Croquet's hands were back on Seto's shoulders, gripping roughly to shove him to his feet as the boy fumbled, curling his toes for traction against the carpeted floor. "Is that what you want?" Pegasus growled.

Seto scrambled against the back of the couch, jerking away from Croquet's hands and rising almost directly into Pegasus's. Mokuba rose instinctively, trying to put a barrier between the two. The question floated through his mind before he could process it. Why had he brought them here? Why just the two of them all of a sudden?

"I'm sorry." He said as Croquet closed in on them. "I'm sorry."

"It's too late for that." Pegasus decided, holding his eyes firmly. "You're more than old enough to have your own room. I think it's time I stopped letting you two be such a bad influence on each other."

Seto straightened a little too rigidly and stumbled forward a pace to keep his balance. He caught Croquet reaching for his weapon in his peripheral vision, relenting at a dismissive wave of Pegasus's hand.

He could do a lot to make them helpless, but very little to make them dependent unless he separated them. Both hands clenched into fists. He'd known the day would come when he'd try to take Mokuba, but he wouldn't let it happen. He instinctively looked down, watching his brother's chest rise and fall with breaths, wishing he could put a hand on his shoulder in comfort without it being too vulnerable. Without it saying too much. It'll be okay; I won't let him hurt you. He can't hurt us anymore.

"I didn't mean it. I don't know why I said that." Mokuba's voice trembled even as he flexed all the muscles he could manage to keep stoic, thinking if he could just be strong. If he could just keep it together, maybe Seto wouldn't have to.

"Sit." Pegasus spat, "Now."

Mokuba took a tentative step backwards, but only when Seto made the first move to obey. If the man really had brought them there for some kind of emotional goodbye, there was no telling what he had planned, and he wasn't about to see his brother carted off to Pegasus's bedroom like Ryou and Yugi had been. He stole a glance at Seto's expression but found it trained on Pegasus, calculating, unable to be read.

"You don't know why you said that?"

Mokuba shook his head, forcing back a shiver at the glimpse of gold beneath Pegasus's hair. "Are you lying?" He gave another shake of his head, barely moving, barely able to move through the fear. Even with Seto right beside him, bracing for a fight, it was the first time he felt nothing they did would protect them. Something stirred inside, reiterating that everything they'd tried to gain the upper hand had failed. You're at his mercy, it whispered, now and forever. "Do we need to find out?"

Seto forced his jaw to work against his own will, "You wanted calm, we're calm." He steeled himself to suppress the order that followed: back off.

"How cute, your brother still thinks he's calling the shots under my roof. But what are you up to, Mokuba? Let's see how you feel." The smile contorted half his face into serene delight, leaving the other slack and neutral, if not irritated, "Do you hate me just as much?"

Moisture formed behind his eyes and he swallowed thickly to force it back, narrowing his gaze to his lap. Pegasus uprooted them from everything they knew, wrenched them apart when they'd finally found the freedom to be together. After years of planning and biding their time, they'd beaten Gozaburo only to fall prey to someone worse. Pegasus didn't want them for their minds, their money, or their bodies. He'd had plenty of opportunities to take those things. As he lay awake at night, and especially as he faced the man one-on-one, Seto near but impossibly far away, Mokuba wondered if he really wanted them, at all.

"Look me in the eyes."

Pegasus's anger hid deceptively behind the lilt in his voice; two octaves too high, betraying the madness ready to break loose inside of him, "Okay." The child whispered, and lifted his head.

"Answer the question."

His lips parted, tongue pressing to the roof of his mouth. The tears still lingered, knotting in his throat as he tried to force words from it. He chanced the hesitation of swallowing it down because if he didn't, it would swallow him. Taking everything they'd fought for down with it.

He couldn't bring himself to say 'yes' or 'no.' In truth, he hadn't given himself any time to focus on how he felt about Pegasus. The man commanded enough of his emotional energy without a willing sacrifice. He didn't know how to hate anyone. He didn't even hate Gozaburo. For all of his torture and systematic abuse, to face him, he wasn't sure he'd feel more than disgust.

What else was there to feel for a man who stole their lives to further his own?

So he answered truthfully, because at least Pegasus would respect that, "I'm scared." He whispered.

Pegasus rocked back on his heel, stunned, "What…?"

Their eyes met, silver hair dancing across his shoulders with each shake of his head in disbelief, "No." He said firmly, bending to one knee in front of the couch and bringing his menacing aura so close it nearly asphyxiated the boy. The eye that allowed for this scoured every inch of his body. He didn't shiver to ward off Pegasus's lust - he wasn't that sort of predator - but whatever sick, silhouette of obsession had become unhinged by the response. "Look at me," there was barely a second to react before Pegasus reached forward, refusing to offer any physical show of comfort but needing to know he could, "Look. At. Me!"

Two tears spilled down Mokuba's cheeks. Pegasus watched them smolder as they rolled, following the dip of his chin and then his neck. He wanted to wipe the fresh ones away, but the child's fist rose to where his thumb should've pressed, sniffed where the silence should've been filled with his tender words of comfort.

"What are you afraid of? Don't look at your brother; I need you to look here, honey. I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"He doesn't want to talk to you." Seto cut in, shifting to tear down the invisible wall surrounding his brother and their abductor, "None of us want to talk to you." Mokuba cleared his throat quietly, forcing the tears away and his mind to another place. If Seto pushed, Pegasus would only push back. He wanted them to sit and play house, and no matter how much they struggled, that's exactly what would happen.

"I'm right here kid, hang in there." He said, keeping Pegasus's gaze so the man wouldn't find his way back to Mokuba, desperately clawing for an explanation he was beyond hearing.

"Do you think I'm going to hurt you?" He asked at last, deflating with the words. His gaze drifted from one child to the next, listless.

"Haven't you?"

"Seto –"

"You can't hide behind this forever."

Pegasus chuckled, turning his attention from one boy to the other, "You think I'm trying to fix him on my own? He's been yours since the first moment he came here, dearheart; I intend to learn his heart through yours. The only way I've sought to pacify him, is through you. And you've been such an obedient boy."

Agony seared through Seto's forehead and stopped behind each of his ears, pulsing with the intrusion of Pegasus's mind in his own. By the time he realized what had happened, the presence began to leak from his mind, letting the current of Mokuba's screams fill the space he had left.

Waves of gold rippled behind the boy's eyes, even as he squeezed them shut – tighter and tighter – shouting that he wouldn't go back. He couldn't go back there again. The pain had been so great in that vast and lonely sect of hell. Shapeless, hallow existence being fed upon by demons he couldn't see, couldn't hear. The millennium eye rested dormant in the crevice of Pegasus's face, and even as he felt its residual power leak from his veins, he cried. At any moment the item could come to life again, snatching his soul from his body and sending it back into the ceaseless abyss. All the begging in the world wouldn't save him. His voice would run out before the man even thought of his release.

As he opened his eyes and the world blurred into shape, it was all he could do not to beg for mercy anyway. "I won't." He said, shaking his head furiously through his rapid breaths, "I won't. Ever. E-ev-er say it a-gai-n-n. I won't." The deep, shuddering breaths came in slow, choking gulps when Seto's arm wrapped instinctively around him, turning his body.

"It's okay." Pegasus crooned, with all the tenderness he possessed, "I forgive you." He tried to recall any relief he'd found during his own panic attacks, but came up empty. That required solitude he couldn't allow. He rose to full height, fingers creating unnatural part lines in his hair on either side of his head. What had he done? What kind of father made his children cry on Christmas Eve?

It wasn't worth it.

Of course he'd been angry – they'd been so ungrateful, but his harshness wasn't worth this.

"It's alright Mokuba, you're safe. I'm right here with you." Seto coaxed, turning his brother to face him and distracting the boy with gentle notions of their childhood Pegasus couldn't bear to hear. It was all too foreign, too false. He held firm to the vision of the millennium eye, shaking his head to clear it. Seto had been playing some spin on happy birthday while Mokuba sat on the piano and nursed chocolate ice cream from a pretzel spoon.

As much as Mokuba needed someone, he couldn't allow his savior to come from memories beyond his own four walls. "Silly of me," He murmured, turning to Seto, who pointedly refused to meet his eyes while caring for Mokuba, "I'd forgotten you could play."

Seto refused to follow the man's gaze to the piano he observed in the far corner of the room, opposite the tree. The only thing worse than Pegasus feeling he could comfort Mokuba vicariously through him, was the idea of him disallowing the gesture altogether. The boy was too distraught to leave like this. He wouldn't.

He turned to face Mokuba straight on, as if a firmer indication that he wouldn't budge, but two guards on either side brought them both stumbling to their feet. Each of Seto's hands gripped Mokuba's shoulders, and his head rose, tear stained and dazed, to meet the elder's eyes.

"You're still here." He said weakly.

Seto nodded, "I'm not going anywhere without you."

Pegasus's fists tensed as his men pulled the boys apart and turned them, like soldiers side by side, to face the instrument in question. He couldn't allow casual stories of long-gone mothers or fathers, but perhaps letting them play together would be enough to soothe the boy.

"Don't be shy, go and play for Daddy."

They made forced steps across the room, Mokuba keeping his eyes trained on the piano to avoid the overwhelming urge to look back at Pegasus. He stayed a pace behind his brother, who was adamant about not taking this sick game any further.

"It's been a long time." He called sharply over his shoulder, feeling the bench against the back of his legs and resisting the prompt to settle onto it, "I won't be any good."

"I'll be the judge of that." Pegasus replied, "You know how much practice means to your mother. I won't have you disappointing her when she returns."

Mokuba forced the bile down with flickers of the shadow realm at his back. Reminding himself that, as usual, the word 'mother' from Pegasus's lips didn't mean the one who had died to give birth to him. The woman Seto sometimes talked about at his prompting, on the anniversary of her death, who he showed the boy pictures of every year around that time, because he couldn't face her grave to leave flowers. The past was gone, he remembered Seto saying, why revisit it?

But he had, for him.

Their eyes traveled over the keys, meeting one another's apprehensively. The short nod of Seto's head meant only one thing: pick a song. The younger let his fingers rest on the cool surface, hoping it would bring something – anything – to mind. Every time he blinked, the light of the room grew hot and intense, body screaming for relief as his very life essence left it. Pegasus's sin pulled him in, deeper and deeper, until he was begging to just disappear.

He bit back all the questions of how the man slept at night. Acknowledging the madness that had drug him, in near hysterics, from an interrogation to a sing-along wouldn't get them anywhere.

"I See Fire?" He whispered, and without a word, Seto began to play.

It'd been a long time since he'd sat down to the movies with Mokuba. Even before the island, they'd sat neglected in the entertainment center for months. But there were fond memories attached. Midnight premiers, costumes, crash courses in Elvish dialect when Mokuba was too tired to sleep.

Beyond that, it was something Pegasus probably didn't recognize, which meant a much needed break from the man's antics. The melody played softly through the room, but Seto trained his thoughts on Mokuba's slowing breaths. When he looked up from the keys, he saw Pegasus staring, transfixed, an expression he didn't trust lingering in the man's visible eye.

Something like nostalgia, though he hoped it wasn't.

He tried to re-focus his attention on what he was playing but found himself tracking the pattern of Pegasus's footsteps in a circle around the piano. His finger traced its sleek, black edge: inhale, up. Exhale, back. Pegasus's rounds had flawless rhythm that sent his stomach to his feet. He had to know the song, even if he wasn't gushing over it like the ridiculous holiday jingles.

"Mind your pacing, Seto." He chided softly, causing his hands to fumble over the wrong keys. Mokuba's eyes snapped up, and he pressed his hands over Seto's.

"Remember how we used to do this?" He whispered, taking over the chorus.

"Of course," Seto replied; laughter in his voice. It had only been a few months. It would only be a few months, he mentally corrected. Sooner or later Pegasus would slip up; they'd find a way out of here and never look back.

Though in the moment, they lamented, there was no end in sight. Anger tore through Seto's chest as Pegasus began humming, making his circles, causing his fingers to fumble. The man was so close his hand brushed their shoulders pointedly as they played. Mokuba fazed him out, focused on the warmth of Seto's hands under his own, but it was all the elder could do to hold his tongue, let alone the shudders at such invasion.

Not even Mokuba craved this sort of intimacy.

Giving Pegasus the satisfaction of reprieve from reality, with their memories, their souls, their lives…was more painful than any blow Gozaburo had dealt. At least they knew his game and could break the rules. Pegasus had none. There was no agenda, no logic, no checkmate: just nonsense, and the folly of men who fell in love with feelings.

"No, no," Crawford purred above them, "This will never do."

The bench creaked under his weight, "Stop." Seto flinched, weighing his words and knowing he didn't have enough time to be delicate, "Sit by me." He said.

Mokuba's hand squeezed Seto's.

You don't have to do this.

I'm here for you, little brother. No matter what. We've come through worse than this.

Pegasus's chuckle wrapped itself around Seto's insides, the heat of anger dulling under his veins as he forced himself to remain calm. Every emotional reaction fueled the man's delusion, even if it was the opposite of what he wanted or expected. Three sets of fingers held the piano now.

Pegasus flexed a little, testing the weight of the keys. "You two are so cute, still playing like that." He said, beginning from the second set of lyrics and emphasizing the slower pace, "You probably don't remember, but it used to be Fur Elise. Mama was so happy when you started teaching Mokuba the way she'd taught you."

Seto clenched his jaw with force enough to shake the teeth from his mouth, wishing he could use his hands to block Mokuba's ears. Pegasus re-writing their life, invalidating everything they'd come through, making their childhood out to be some glimpse of near-perfect existence…was more than he could stand.

"Was?" He repeated, word aimed like a dagger. Pegasus paused in his own rendition, "You say that like she isn't coming back."

He narrowed his eyes to Seto's, pulling a blank card from his pocket out of view from Mokuba, "Is that a challenge, Seto?"

The brunet turned back to the piano and continued the melody, nearing the end. "I know you're upset she won't be home for Christmas." Pegasus continued, loud enough to be heard over the music, "But she's thinking of you always. Maybe you should come with me when we've finished, make a phone call."

Seto didn't pause, but played softer, leaving most of it to Mokuba. "She's busy." He said.

"Never too busy for you."

The card glistened in his hand as he turned it, edge to edge, against his fingers. "To think you both miss her so much you'd throw a tantrum on Christmas Eve." The second soul card came out, drawing Seto's eyes lower for a fraction of a moment, quick enough that Mokuba's didn't follow the motion. "Maybe you just need to hear her voice. Hmm?"

The drawl of the woman beyond their walls filled his head.

Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel…

"But who should go first – you both miss her so desperately."

Born is the king of Israel.

"We're fine." Seto insisted curtly, then, hoping to dissuade him, "You'd only upset her."

Mokuba opened his mouth to mediate but couldn't find the words. For Seto to play along to such an extent, something had to be wrong. He let the melody play, slowly, delicately, through the room.

"Let's," He stopped, looking to Seto for any sign of what to do. Tried again, "Can you sing the rest?"

Pegasus's expression softened but he made no move to put away the cards, "Not tonight, dear." He replied, holding Seto's eyes. "Maybe your brother will play for us tomorrow morning; we can all sing together."

Seto closed his eyes and let out a long breath through his nose, "We might have to teach them the words." Each of his own fell like cement from his mouth.

"Maybe we'll watch the movies." Pegasus replied with a knowing smile.

Seto swallowed his words so his voice wouldn't break in outrage. Every song, evening ritual, happy memory, hobby…all things sacred, to exist between just he and Mokuba…gone.

Up in smoke.

Was there nothing he wouldn't take?

We'll get out. He reminded himself. Gozaburo didn't steal our freedom, neither will he.

He felt Mokuba's body tremble with tears he wouldn't let fall, and knew that was easier said than done. Pegasus was trying, at least, and that was all it took.

He wanted to scream, but couldn't. Mokuba had been through enough, but it didn't matter.

He found Pegasus's eyes and let his glare say what he dared not vocalize.

Is this what you wanted?

He didn't know if the pocketing of the first soul card was a yes, or a no.

"Merry Christmas boys."

A beat of silence, then -

"Merry Christmas."

Pegasus rose from the piano, crossed to the other side, and propped his elbows on it. "What was that?" He said gently, cupping his ear.

Mokuba closed his eyes.

Happy Birthday Dear –

Not tonight, dear.

Happy Birthday –

Merry Christmas.

To

You.

"Merry Christmas, Daddy."

.

.

.

Fin

What would you do to protect someone you love? Would you give up yourself?