Chapter Text
The Supreme God’s office was a sanctuary of soft light and ancient scents, a cocoon against the vastness of Aaru. Afternoon sun streamed through the arching windows, painting the polished obsidian floors in gold. The scent of papyrus and incense, rich and sweet, lingered in the air like a soft veil, a silent witness to the intimacy unfolding within. Yugi sat on the edge of Atem’s grand desk, his cheeks still flushed, breath soft and uneven, a tender aftermath of the closeness they’d just shared. Hands had tangled, foreheads had pressed together, and Atem’s voice, a low rumble against Yugi’s ear, had whispered vows of adoration and eternal tethering. He would never let go.
They had moved, soon after, to the wide, plush sofa in the corner. Atem was now on top of Yugi, arms wrapped loosely but unyieldingly around his waist, body pressed so close that not an inch of distance remained between them. He didn’t want space. Not today. Not with Neferet’s shadow still clinging to the morning like smoke that refused to dissipate, its acrid tang threatening to spoil the sweetness of their sacred bond.
Yugi’s fingers, gentle and curious, brushed along Atem’s strong jawline, a delicate exploration. “Atem… can I ask you something?”
Atem stiffened slightly beneath the touch, a subtle tremor through his powerful frame. “Anything, my heart.”
“It’s about Lady Neferet.”
Atem’s hands tightened around Yugi’s waist—instinctive, possessive, a silent claim stake driven deep into Yugi’s very being.
Yugi noticed. Of course he did. He always did.
“Who is she to you?” Yugi asked softly, his voice a feather-light probe. “Why does she seem so attached? And why does she… look at me the way she does?”
Atem’s gaze flickered away for the barest second, a ghost of a past storm crossing his features, then snapped back, dark and turbulent. “Yugi… I don’t want to talk about her.”
“But I want to understand,” Yugi insisted, his voice gentle but firm as tempered steel. “She seemed like she was testing me. Like she wanted me to fail.”
Atem’s jaw clenched so hard the muscle jumped beneath Yugi’s thumb, a small, violent pulse. “She was out of line,” he said sharply, the words edged with barely restrained heat that promised retribution. “And she will answer for it.”
Yugi blinked at the sudden venom in Atem’s tone, surprised by its raw intensity. “Atem… I’m not afraid of her. I just want to know why she—”
“Yugi,” Atem interrupted, his voice dropping low and dangerous, a silken threat. “Please. Drop it.”
Yugi frowned, a flicker of hurt crossing his features. “Why won’t you tell me?”
Atem stepped back abruptly, breaking their immediate contact, and ran a hand through his hair in rare, visible frustration. He paced once, twice—each step tight with the prodigious effort to contain what was rising inside him, a maelstrom of old fears and new protectiveness.
Because he didn’t want this.
He didn’t want Neferet’s name to defile this sacred space they had carved out together, this nascent future blooming between them. He didn’t want her past with him to stain the immaculate tapestry he was weaving with Yugi. He didn’t want Yugi to glimpse the reckless, hungry, broken man he had once been—the one Neferet still worshipped in her twisted, unchanging memory.
Most of all, he didn’t want Yugi to doubt—even for a heartbeat—that what they had now was singular, irreplaceable, eternal.
Atem turned back, his eyes dark with a possessive fear he rarely allowed to surface, a primeval protectiveness. “She is nothing to me now,” he said, each word deliberate, final, a hammer blow striking through time. “Nothing. And I don’t want her anywhere near you. Ever.”
Yugi softened, reaching out a hand, his touch a balm. “Atem… I’m not asking because I’m jealous. I’m asking because I want to understand what’s hurting you.”
Atem froze.
Hurting him.
The truth pierced deeper than any blade, slicing through centuries of indifference and forced acceptance. He exhaled slowly, his broad shoulders rigid, fighting a battle within himself.
“Yugi… I am not hurt. She is complicated. A misguided one. Clinging to something that never truly existed and I am just dissapointed.” He paused, gathering his scattered thoughts, his gaze tracing the gentle curve of Yugi’s cheek. He couldn't lie to Yugi, not entirely.
Atem continued, his voice low and tight, each word dragged from a place he had long tried to bury beneath layers of duty and self-reinvention. “She still believes in a version of me that died centuries ago. A version that was never worthy of the name I carry now. And I will not allow her delusions to touch you. To touch us.”
Yugi reached for his hand again. Atem let him take it, but his fingers closed around Yugi’s with bruising, almost desperate strength—possessive, anchoring.
“Atem… I’m not afraid of the truth.”
Atem looked at him—really looked—and something inside him, something ancient and scarred, cracked open further.
He didn’t want Yugi to see the darkness he once carried, the shadows that still clung to the edges of his soul. He didn’t want Yugi to see the man Neferet still idolized in her warped heart, the one he himself had buried. He wanted Yugi to see this Atem: the one who had chosen him above every realm, every cycle, every god. The one who would marry him. The one who would burn the heavens to keep him safe.
Atem stepped closer, cupping Yugi’s face with both hands, his thumbs brushing over his cheeks as though memorizing every line, every nuance of his beloved.
“You are my future,” he whispered, his voice raw, stripped bare. “ Not anything from before you. You are the only thing that has ever been truly mine—the only soul I have ever claimed with every breath of my being. And I will protect that. I will protect you. From her. From anyone. From the very fabric of existence if it dares to threaten what we are building.”
Yugi’s eyes softened, luminous with understanding and unwavering trust. But Atem’s mind was already racing—calculating, planning, tightening around a single, unshakeable truth.
He would not let Neferet taint this.
He would not let her disrupt their coming marriage.
He would not let her pull him—or Yugi—back into the past.
If she threatened their happiness… If she threatened Yugi… If she threatened the balance of Aaru itself…
Atem would act.
And he would not hesitate.
He leaned down, pressing his forehead to Yugi’s once more, his voice dropping to something ancient, possessive, absolute. “No one touches what is mine,” he murmured against Yugi’s lips, a silent oath. “No one questions what is mine. And no one—no one—will ever come between us again.”
Yugi’s arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer, a silent affirmation.
Atem didn’t pull away.
He never would.
But in the quiet of his own heart, the Supreme God of gods had already passed sentence.
Neferet would learn her place.
Or she would learn what it meant to stand against the one who had once commanded creation itself. And either way, she would never look at Yugi again.
After his talk with Yugi, the weight of their conversation, and the steel of his newfound resolve, pressed upon Atem. He left his office briefly, needing space to think, to let the intricate gears of his mind turn, calculating what to do next. He would, as was his duty, read and assess Neferet’s heart before he made a final decision, but he was already determined. He was not going to let her become more a part of his life than he deemed appropriate. He had believed her to be a more mature, graceful woman, one who had once captivated the hearts of nobles. But the Neferet he saw today was unraveled, bordering on unhinged. While a part of his ancient self might have once felt a flicker of concern, that part was now silenced. He did not care.
He remembered, with a sharp jolt, what he and Yugi went through in the mortal plane with Seto Kaiba. He remembered selling himself to Apep, the horrifying proximity to losing Yugi forever. That past trauma had hardened him now, more than ever before, in his desire to protect his relationship with Yugi. He had assumed Lady Neferet would be woman graceful enough to move on, to accept they had become two different people, separated by eons and transformations.
As he looked out into the verdant, eternal Aaru gardens, bathed in the soft, unending light of his realm, he knew what he would have to do to safeguard his relationship with Yugi. In front of him, a shimmering purple light materialized, coalescing into the formidable figure of his sister, Ammit.
“Ammit,” he stated, her name a low rumble of acknowledgement.
Ammit bowed, a respectful inclination of her monstrous, powerful form.
Atem asked her the status of Seto Kaiba. Ammit’s voice, a gravelly whisper, replied, “He remains a shell, brother. He is vocal, yes, but he is haunted by the memories of his past, those memories limiting his ability to atone. He believes atonement is for the weak. Even a shell of a man, he still holds onto so much pride.”
Atem simply nodded, his gaze distant. “I appreciate you and what you have done for me and my love,” he said, his voice imbued with the gratitude of a deity whose burden had been eased. “But I ask for your favor once again.”
Ammit's great head tilted slightly. “I am always here to help, brother.”
Atem met her gaze, his own eyes burning with cold fire. “I am dealing with a situation here in Aaru regarding an imbalanced soul. Her assessed heart measurements will be brought to me soon by my loyal advisor. But Ammit, I assure you, if her soul proves to be imbalanced, do me a favor and consume her soul for me.”
Ammit’s eyes widened, a rare show of surprise. “Very rarely do souls lose balance in Aaru, brother. This is not normal for souls to be imbalanced here.”
Atem’s jaw clenched. “I believe that Shimon bypassing the trials caused these problems. Shimon was not only imbalanced, but he also had power over the palace for a long time, even before I came to Aaru. He was a blessed instrument of Apep, like Seto Kaiba, and he made the ascendants give into the temptations of pleasures, believing immorality is paradise rewarded. But now, I am going to make this realm a realm of true peace and happiness. And Lady Neferet was and is a whore. If this woman threatens to imbalance Aaru and Yugi, I will have you consume her soul, and all the rest of the whores who contaminate this realm.” His voice hardened with each word, leaving no room for doubt, no space for mercy. He was the Supreme God, and he would tolerate no threat to his reign, to his realm, or to the soul he had finally claimed as his own.