Disclaimer: I do not own YGO. Because if I did, Cynthia would still be alive...

Love at First Sight

The patio was illuminated by bright fairy lights, hanging between the trees and casting odd, deranged shadows on the paving. The huge assortment of people dressed in their fine raiment's mingled beneath a perfectly clear sky, a full moon gazing brightly at them. A small band was in one corner, playing something by Mozart, an idle, relaxing tune that seemed to fit the scene perfectly.

Having just escaped a group of his mother's friends, all of them enquiring as to his school placement and if he had achieved his grades, Pegasus was glad to be alone, even if it was the middle of a grand party. Why did they ask such worthless questions? He doubted whether there was anyone in the world who didn't know his perfect grades; mother made sure of that. In a way he was glad, it meant they were proud of him, but he couldn't help feeling a little like a showpiece. It was better than being ignored like Allan and Lilanna were, though.

His two elder cousins where hidden somewhere amongst the mass of people, dressed in their finery that made them appear as grown up as the adults around them. He's watched Allan when he'd entered, teasingly flirting with one of the daughters of some Italian opera singer, Allan's eyes passing all over her, taking in the diamonds at her throat and ears, the curves of her body and her fluttering eyelashes. Fifteen years of age, and totally obsessed by women. Was that what he was to be like also? Did it come to a point in a boy's life when he forgets his ambitions and dreams and becomes infatuated by women and the pursuit of them? If so, he dreaded the thought of growing up. The prospect of leaving behind the cartoon world of colour and happiness and joy, where everything was nice and sugary, for a damaged world of bitter painful ugliness world in which the adults seemed in wallow in.

Eyes perusing past the jewels that glimmered around every female neck, he carried on walking, careful to avoid pushing anyone, smiling politely at all those who glanced his way. Surprisingly, there seemed to be no one of his age around, though his father had assured him of their presence. It didn't really worry him; most of those of his age in with whom he consorted were spoiled brats, all concerned only with appearance and what they'll do once daddy dies and leaves them all that money and all those shares... he sighed. The lonely didn't bother him anymore, he'd grown used to it, but the thought that one day he'd have to obey is parents and marry one of those girls who loved nothing about him but his inheritance…a disturbing thought.

Still lost in his reverie, it came as a surprise to him when he found himself face-to-face with someone of his own height. Immediately staring at the floor, mainly out of embarrassment at nearly bumping into her, he saw a pair of neat black buckle shoes, lacy tube socks covering her ankles. Feet positioned at the correct ninety-degree angle, he looked up, cheeks going red. Before he saw anything else, he knew, just by her posture, that this was a lady. A pretty blue dress with a white petticoat that hung just below the knee, little pink bows arranged around the hem and all the way up the panel at the front of the loosely fitted bodice, short sleeves that displayed her pale arms, hands crossed in her lap as she stood patiently. Her face was pale, high cheekbones and rosy-pink lips, green eyes shiny and huge. Her hair was blonde and wavy, half of it pulled back and held by a large pink bow. He stood still and stared at her, feeling something new and strange inside of him.

"Good evening," he said quietly, trying not to stammer. She looked like an angel, like something that had fallen from heaven and landed here in his garden. She seemed to glow with a peaceful energy. Something swelled up inside; he felt warm and tingly and oddly relaxed. It almost felt like when he was embraced by his mother, warm and protected…Was this what love felt like? She was certainly beautiful, he'd never met anyone half as much as dazzlingly radiant…When she didn't respond, he groped for something to say. "My name's Pegasus." She giggled at this, not rudely, but as if she was embarrassed, her right hand raised to her mouth.

"I'm Cynthia Darling. I suppose you must be Pegasus Crawford, then." she answered, smile widening. He looked at her, not really thinking about his reply…so her name's Cynthia? My angel's called Cynthia… "So that means this is your father's party, right?"

"Yes." He felt strange, as though he didn't know what to do or say next…what did one say to a lady who one has just met and who has stolen your heart? What could he do? "Would you like me to show you around?" he held out his hand to her, silently begging her to take it and come with him. She looked at him, her head to the side, and a small smile on her face as she giggled again…such a lovely sound…

She reached out with her hand, and allowed him to clasp it, finding his hand soft and gentle. His heart missed a beat as she smiled and nodded, eyes closed as she exclaimed aloud with joy.

"I would be delight, Master Crawford."

First Kiss

"So Cynthia, are you enjoying your stay?" Pegasus asked gently of his blonde companion, his voice soft. She smiled sweetly and nodded, reaching to clench his hand tightly, eyelashes fluttering prettily. Clothed in her usual blue gown, the pretty pink bows down the centre of the chest panel, she lifted the skirt from the ground as she walked around a flower bed, hiding behind a tree and peering around the other side at him shyly. Understanding her game he decided to join in, pursuing her path around the trunk of the oak, gently pulling the bow out her hair and hugging her closer. She wriggled out his grip, and span around to look at him, giggling.

"Of course I am, Pegasus. Your family is very welcoming, and this house is very beautiful…"she giggled again, her ringlets bobbing. She pulled the gold hair back, scooping it all out of her face; as she knotted the bow, her fringe tumbled out, framing her thin, pale face. "And you're quite wonderful, as well."

They continued: weaving their way through the gardens of his parents estate carefully, admiring the exotic plants and flowers along the way. Already enchained with daisy raiment, Cynthia had successfully hung several matching chains around his neck, scattering tiny white petals over his clothing and hair. Feeling playful, she had ruffled his hair, flicked his nose and grinned.

He blushed at her, a small shy smile on his face. "Thank you. Has Lilanna left you alone?" he reached and touched their joined hands, feeling an urge to feel her pale milky skin near his, an odd coldness that seemed to penetrate through her body. She was a warm, friendly person, and yet there always seemed to be a dark cloud hanging above her, she was always shrouded by some tragedy…strange, where did that come from?

"Lilanna hasn't done anything. I don't care; as long as you're with me, the sun will always shine and all the rainy clouds will go away." She leaned her head against his shoulder and giggled. She snuggled closer, pressing her cheek into his yellow shirt, eyes closed with contentment. They'd first met 4 years ago; and since that magical moment that she'd first seen her white prince, she knew it was love. Now they were both 14, they had believed they were ready to be 'together', or as their friends described it, 'going out'. It really was Romeo and Juliet, except their parents saw no reason for them not to be together. It was a smart match, same backgrounds, same education, same class…so long as they wouldn't stop their love; Cynthia didn't care for their reasons. Neither of them had had to say this aloud, the tender looks, the gentle hand holding and the honest conversation was enough to show themselves and their families that this was indeed Love At First Sight.

Feeling a little tired, she left the path, brushing the many delicate arms of the willow tree's branches out of the way, settling herself among the roots at the base. Blinking up at him, she breathed deeply, and indicated for him to sit beside her. They were silent for a while, nothing but her struggled breathing, until he leaned over, a concerned look on his face.

"Do you want to go back? This isn't normal for you, Cynthia."

She shook her head and put her finger to his lips, carefully leaning closer to his face, eyes half opened. He really was so beautiful, straight silver hair, long, almost feminine eyelashes and delicate pale pink lotus-like lips. Unlike most of those their age, he wasn't obsessed by that three letter word; yet he was charming and flirtatious enough to flatter and court her like a true gentlemen without ever being anywhere near crude or suggestive. I'm a very lucky girl to have someone like this interested in me. I'd be a fool not to take this chance…

Breathing back to normal, she leant upwards and tipped her head to the side, pressing her lips to his for the first time, feeling him carefully kiss her back, a sweet taste now in her mouth as his hand moved to touch her face. His tongue sensuously rubbed against hers and she felt him fall backwards, still holding onto her tightly, keeping her safe and warm under that willow tree.

Kiss broken, she rested her head against his shoulder, breathing irregular because of the breathtaking kiss. So, that is what a kiss tastes like… cotton candy…

"I…I love you."

"I love you too."

The two of them lay there, down under the willow tree, together for a little longer, perfectly contented.

Proposals

It was a picture perfect romantic scene; a candlelight diner. A fine meal and of course, a pleasing red wine, all adding to the inevitable conclusion of their evening alone together. Pegasus uncomfortably adjusted his collar, nervously glancing across at his darling. It was a remarkable change she'd undergone since that first shy kiss under the willow; she'd grown a lot taller, slimmer, curvier…significantly more developed in certain areas…though it didn't really concern him as to her looks. It was the sense of humour, her amazing tenacity in the face of her illness that made life that much more challenging for her…she was truly remarkable, and exquisite to behold. She was Cynthia, and Cynthia was his, as he was hers.

A strand of her blonde hair fell onto her lips, they parted ever-so-slightly, almost erotically...such simple things she did drove him wild for her; it was an awareness that, until recently had eluded him. Everything, from her long fingered, elegant hands to her long delicate eyelashes to that pretty, girlish giggle made him feel a sudden rush of blood…

Smiling her pale pink smile a little, she reached up with her thin fingered hand and brushed it away. Having secured it behind her shell-like ear, eyes shyly peering up at him, she continued to eat her cake.

"You're looking very beautiful tonight, my dear, if it isn't too bold to say." He picked up the half full glass before him and drank a little, savouring the taste. Looking over the rim, he held her gaze a while, losing himself in those beautiful green eyes. Another soft giggle drew him back to reality. He blinked, and drank again, cheeks colouring a little.

"Thank you, Pegasus." She replied. "You've gone to too much trouble, all on my account…" Distractedly, she looked away, a long finger outlining the rim of her glass, pausing before she too rose it to her lips, sipping from it tentatively. "You're looking rather dashing yourself."

Her eyes shone with sincerity and happiness, glowing with warmth and respect as she began to eat again. It was a very polite way of eating, delicately breaking some cake away, swirling it around in the berry syrup and slowly raising it to her cherry lips, tantalisingly eating it off the silver fork, tongue darting out to clear any remains from her lower lip. Was she even aware of how truly tempting she was? No; undoubtedly she was still too naïve to see and understand what an utter treasure she was, and the corrupting effect she had upon his mind and his body... but that was Cynthia; an innocent, in every sense of the word, and he wouldn't have her any other way.

Desperately clearing those thoughts from his mind he focussed on those eyes again, the unreality of their depths almost making him forget what he was going to do…something he'd been steeling himself to do for a long time, ever since that casual stroll past the jewellers and the perfect ring had caught his eye…he'd lay awake at night, seeking a way to ask her, to beg her to take his hand again…just as she had those years ago at the party…whatever would he do if she said no? Inhaling deeply, he opened his eyes and spoke.

"Cynthia, we've been close for a long time now, and I was thinking…about us, and how close we are, and I thought that …you know…maybe…"

"You're not breaking up with me, are you?" she asked, eyes widening with shock, the silver fork falling from her hand with a clatter. She looked sad, as though informed of a close relatives death; her breathing once again deepened as she began to get a little anxious…shoving a hand into her pocket and withdrawing her inhaler she pressed it to her mouth, breathing deeply. As the drug took its effect, tears began to form in her eyes.

Concerned, he stood up, appearing at her side, holding her hand as she breathed slowly, shuddering, laboured breaths as she tried to regain her composure…and then she would look at him, and break into another wave of shaking tears. Upset himself, Pegasus hugged her close, kissing her forehead, holding her tightly, a hand buried into that herbal-scented hair…he just wanted to take the pain away, any means, anything, he would help her, find some cure for her…his hand caressing her cheek, he wiped her tears off her cheek, heart almost breaking at seeing her so upset. Feeling her breathing becoming more regular, a little calmer, he looked into her face, and knew that this was the Point of No Return.

"Never, Cynthia. I would never break up with you. You're perfection, my absolute perfection; friend, lover…Fiancé?"

Smiling to himself as she gasped with excitement this time, he slid down onto one knee, taking her left hand in his, sliding her diamond ring on with his right hand, kissing the soft white skin of her hand." Cynthia Darling, will you marry me, and make me the happiest man alive?" he looked up at her, eyes imploring her to say yes, begging with the powers that be to make her say that little word that would rid him of this anxiety and seal his future happiness…seeing her warm smile, and the delicate flutter of eyelashes, his heart was elevated; she didn't need to respond, she had already said yes…

"Pegasus! Why, of course I will! I had no idea! I don't believe it…This is just some amazing dream, isn't it?" she slipped onto the floor in front of him and embraced him closely, leaning up to kiss him. Carefully, he tasted the berries and chocolate on her tongue, feeling that familiar rush of blood…yes, Perfection was soon to be his bride…

Wedding Night

Just a small, select wedding party, everything a riot of colour and beauty…Cynthia herself, clothed in baby blue and a radiant smile, glowing with all the pride and love and dignity of the wife he had always wanted to be married to…she was priceless

Carefully carrying her up the ascending stairs to the tower room, where privacy was guaranteed. She was very quiet; they both knew what was to come next, had discussed it for several weeks in great detail…and now, finally, it was their wedding night.

It had seemed to take an eternity for it to come for Pegasus; strictly, he believed in nothing of a sexual nature before wedlock, and had naturally honoured this belief when he had courted his beloved Cynthia. She was beautiful, mind body and soul and he was in love; and they would be together for the rest of their lives…why waste such an exquisite experience? It was better to wait; then if something were to go wrong and she found herself with child, there would be nothing lost in terms of reputation.

Contentedly, his blonde bride purred as the door was opened with the nudge of a foot; placed carefully down on a seat beside the grand bed, she wait in the semi-dark for him to come back to her. Smiling softly as the lights were turned on low, the curtains closed, and the gold plaits of curtain edge glittering from the canopy invitingly. He removed his jacket slowly; was there apprehensiveness there? Giggling to herself, she waited a little longer as Pegasus stood still, a strong waft of some pleasant scented incense wafted her way.

"My dear…w are hardly likely to make love like this." She stated standing up and reaching to undo her dress. Nervousness eating away at her, she breathed sharply inwards as she allowed it to fall to the floor. "Are you coming, my love?"

He turned, eyes widening, instantly feeling drawn to her. She really was Perfection, she was Beauty and she was Truth…

Hardly able to maintain control, he found himself holding her, kissing her deeply, meaningfully, insistently. Her flesh was a little cool against his, they nevertheless continued, climbing gently into bed, lying atop the red silk sheets… not white, they got spoiled too easily…red for love, for passion and for pleasure…

It didn't matter she was a little frail, or that she was nervous...he would do what she wanted, when she wanted…

It seemed to last for hors, just the two of them entangled, hands exploring, touching and probing, followed by kisses and tongues…the taste of the other was both awesome and addictive. Pausing as she giggled, he touched a birthmark beside her belly button, smirking as she squirmed away.

Her hands were soft, nails slightly pointed, never painful as she stroked. A little worried, she ran one shy hand between his legs, stroking at the bulge in his trousers, taken aback by the sensation. She felt him rub his hips against hers, warmth spreading throughout his body. Eyes half closed, he allowed one curious hand to rub the cup of her bra; she hadn't wanted to remove it, and kissed along her collarbone. She seemed to like it, eyes closed, lips parted sweetly. Ignoring the allure of her body, he reached upwards to press his lips to hers, unable to resist their softness…

"I love you." Finding a gentle rhythm, he buried himself within her, her hands softly combing through his straight silver hair, very little noise coming from him. "I love you; I always have and I always will."

The Bell Tolls

"I adore this time of year, don't you, my love?"

Cynthia reached to place the golden angel on one of the branches, smiling as she wrapped tinsel around the great Christmas tree, the merry crackling of the fire pleasing, the faint glow of heat covering her. "All the children are always so happy, the smell of the dinner, the presents…you can't forget the presents, can you?" Giggling to herself she looked across the room, a happy smile gracing her face, she spied her lover sitting in the chair furthest from the fire. He kept glancing at her, and then back at the pad resting on his lap, pencil busily running all over the thick paper. Slightly disheartened, she reached for some more cheerful decoration. "Darling, please, can't you put that down, just for a moment? I really would like you opinion and assistance; as an artist, that qualifies you."

Not hearing her, or at least pretending not to, she grabbed another length of green glittery tinsel, and ran up to him, and grinning began winding the long thread about him. He batted the green strands from his face, tossing it aside and sighing with mock exasperation.

"Cynthia, you really are impossible. I've met nursery students with more maturity." Momentarily glaring at her, he realised he couldn't even pretend to be mad at her; she was looking far too adorable. Dressed in a seasonal red, a red bow tied her hair back out of her face, her complexion a little ruddy from their earlier snow fight. She had grown more beautiful; if that was possible, in the 5 and half months they'd been married…

It had started as an innocent stroll through the grounds, until she had launched a huge snowball at his head. Teasingly, she'd thrown several more, her poor aim meaning they sailed uselessly over his head…so revenge had been his, in the form of three smashed into the back of her head. Breathlessly, she had stopped, and lay down in the snow, spreading her arms and legs to make a snow angel. As he caught up with her, a little concerned, he looked down at her; she was so pale, almost blue, and she'd stopped moving; giving the appearance of death… "Methinks I see you, as if staring at me from the bottom of your tomb…" Those infamous words of irony from Romeo and Juliet suddenly occurred to him…and something cold embraced his heart. Still staring at her, she had sat up, grabbed his arm and pulled him beside her, holding him close to her, snuggling into his warm coat.

"I'm impossible? You're such a hypocrite, bunny boy." She looked at him now, and coughed, feeling a little ill…our first Christmas, and I'm coming down with a cold? Typical. As if I don't see enough of hospital, I have to spend my first married Christmas there, as well… he didn't respond with his usual flick of his hair and some amusing comment, just a weak smile and opened his arms, indicating for her to come and sit with him. Again she snuggled close, feeling a little breathless…perhaps she shouldn't wear such restricting clothes…

Suddenly she didn't feel so happy, or so cheerful. Resting her head against his chest, she made a noise of contentment as he stroked her hair, both arms wrapped around her protectively…she was so small, so warm…if only they could just stay like this, forever, just the two of them in this close embrace…

"Pegasus, I love you." She sniffed, hugging him closer, feeling an ache in her chest. What was it that she was so afraid of? There was nothing to say she was ill, except this minor cold, and that didn't immediately mean se was assigned to the grave? But this sensation of something impending, something painful…she didn't like it. "you know that, right?" she looked up at him imploringly, her eyes wide and soulful as he wondered why she was so concerned…"Did you know, the day we got married was the happiest of my life? It was so good, I've never been the centre of attention of so many people…and then we made love, and everything was.." she closed her eyes, and licked her dry lips. "Perfect. Everything that had ever happened to me, none of it mattered as long as I was lying beside you because I knew you loved me and would protect me…and I felt safe…but I'm not sure now, I feel as if something's wrong.."

Staring into the fire, he felt tears forming; what WAS the matter with her? Why was she so certain of something so terrible? There was nothing that could hurt her, the castle was like a fortress, and they always went out with bodyguards. Was this just some irrational fear of a paranoid woman?

No; this was Cynthia, and if she was worried, he would find out what was causing her such discomfort. Kissing the top of her head, he held her close, deep in thought. He remained so, until she burst into a fit of coughing, turning away from him as she rose a hand to her mouth, violently coughing, as though bringing up her insides. As she took her hand away, he realised what was wrong…

"Cynthia, we need to call a doctor; now." He said, somewhat desperately. Standing up, he took her hand and made for the door. Somewhat confused, she wondered why he had reacted so badly…looking down at her hand, she realised what she'd been coughing up. Eyes wide, as in disbelief, she saw the warm, sticking spots of blood on her pale hand.

Promises to the Withered and Dead

It had been one of the coldest winters to date; the temperature a constant minus, ice covering everything. The snow lay thick upon the grounds of the castle, everything looking remarkably picturesque. Unfortunately there was no one to admire it.

Ever since the mistress of the castle, Cynthia Crawford, had been struck down by some form of malignant cancer, the residents had been rushed off their feet, if not serving the dying woman then at her bedside. Pegasus hadn't left her bedside, holding her hand constantly. It had gotten slowly paler and thinner, the perfect nail polish fading. Her wrist was increasingly skinny, the illness that had plagued her taking its toll on her already weak body. Even before, she had always been of a delicate disposition, as gentle and beautiful as a rose, his rose…but it was reaching a stage when even he was beginning to lose hope. She was so tired, so pale…she was already practically a corpse... It was destroying him, watching the one he loved so much wither and die so quickly, and him, for all his wealth and power, being unable to stop the inevitable; Cynthia was going to die.

Lying in their marriage bed, clad in a white nightie, she was awake, her sparkling eyes dimmed, her rosy lips faded to a shade of lilac. She turned her head slightly, so she could look at him.

"My love?" her voice, usually high and lyrical, was cracked and tired, used for the first time in days. He looked at her, and raised her hand delicately, as though afraid of snapping it off, and kissed it.

"I'm here, Cynthia, its going to be alright…"He said, a note of anxiousness in his voice, she hadn't spoken for so long, it was enough to hear her voice, her lips moving as though reassuring him she hadn't died; yet. "How are you feeling?"

She didn't reply, but looked straight at him, eyes glittering as they did when in a particularly playful mood. Her fingers tightened slightly, the simple gesture as romantic and intimate as lying beside her. All he wanted was for this pain to pass, for her to be free…but he wasn't willing for her to die, to leave him…he hated to see her like this…

"I've been better." She smiled, cheeks colouring faintly, a smear on he innocent blushes she used to wear so frequently with him, her smile small but sweet. He felt several heartstrings snap as she winced in pain as she coughed a little, more red blood splattering the white sheets… "My dear, I…think my end is nearing."

"No." he shook his head and leaned closer. "No, my darling, we are going to be together, forever, remember?" his voice broke, eyes filled with tears as he looked at her, her eyes filled with recognition and…acceptance?

She quietly nodded, and held his hand tighter, pulling him closer to her face.

"I love you; I always have and I always will. If-when I die, I will love you from beyond this world. Don't forget me, please." She held his hand to her face and closed her eyes. "I'm so tired…I just want to sleep…even though it'll be eternal…"

"Sleep." There was a lump in his throat as he spoke. "I'll still be here. Save your strength." He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead, realising he was trembling and shaking uncontrollably, it was dreadful; he felt dreadful…he waited in silence, as she fell into her peaceful slumber, the monitor beeping rhymically…

He too felt tired, and sleepy; when had he last slept? 20, 30 hours ago? More?

About to drop off, he felt a hand clamp on his shoulder.

"Perhaps you should rest elsewhere, Master Pegasus. It's unhealthy to go for so long without sleep." The nurse said crisply. "We need to run some tests, anyhow, so could you leave?"

Too tired to argue, he stood up, and cast a warm glance down at Cynthia, a peaceful smile on her face, hi love, his very life… He would not let her die; she would not be taken from him by anyone…

"I'll be back; I love you, and I will never let you go." He promised, letting go of her hand and walking slowly out, casting one final glance at his angel. Perhaps it was fortunate that he wasn't aware that it would be the last time he saw her alive.

Pegasus closed the door slowly, feeling emotion well up inside, pushing roughly against the barriers of his self control. Just wait until there's no one else to see you; you've held a brave face so far…you have to be strong in public…just lock the door.

Clumsily turning the key in the lock he leaned his back against the door, waiting for the emotion to run free…for him to break down into tears as he had done several times in the last few days. Nothing came.

He looked up at the ceiling; wondering why; why wouldn't it come? What had he done to deserve this? Why did he feel so empty and lonely and dead inside…?

He recalled the day she fell ill, how she had happily decorated their tree, playfully wrapping green tinsel around him…and the fight they'd had earlier. It almost made him smile. Almost.

Would he ever smile again? Happiness, laughter…it had all gone from him. It felt like he would never feel anything positive again; he was destined to live his life in a pit of misery and despair.

Cynthia, my love, why? At last, finally, he felt a tear in his eye; he bent his head, s if in prayer and felt it slip out, running down his wind stung cheek. Buried New Years day, by the tree they had played under as children, where they'd shared their first kiss…hadn't she scratched their initials in that tree?

He gulped and shuddered, shoulders shaking with sobs as his tears climaxed; he slid into a foetal position, drawing his knees up tight, tears staining his clothes as his sorrows climbed still higher. I'll never see you again, we'll never do all those things we planned, those simple things we had done so many times before...I'll never kiss you or stroke your lovely hair; you're gone, without me…

These things kept repeating, a vicious circle, but it didn't work; no matter what he said, he still hurt; it still hurt knowing his lover was now buried 6feet under, a veil of flowers covering her coffin, the headstone bearing her name and birth date; the legend 'gone but not forgotten' emblazoned in gold on the grey stone and on his heart.

"Forget you? Never, my Love." Sniffling, he wiped his face, and blew his nose. "I'll find you, my darling. We'll be together again, I swear it, and I won't stop until I have you back."

According to Plan

Pegasus looked out the glass paned window into the sunset, admiring the many colours as the sun dropped below the skyline, tinting the clouds blood red, and then violet, as night drew its way over the rest of the sky. With a sad pang of nostalgia, he recalled with a heavy heart the times he and Cynthia had watched such natural wonder together, snuggling close to keep warm, near the sea front where blasts of cold air would blow up, whipping that lovely blonde hair into his face, the smell of lilies present… It was a lie what they said; time did not lessen the pain; if anything, it made it worse…he had sworn to let nothing stop him bringing his darling back…and so he hadn't. Since just after her death, an ancient relic had been in the place of his left eye, an item of great power…

Leaning back in his chair, he closed his right eye, the world instantly going black around him, making it clearer to recall it all, the memories….the pain of having his eye ripped out, the fingers tearing at the delicate soft orb, the hot spurting of blood down his face and the encompassing throbbing of hurt as the foreign metal item took its place, reawakening an odd power to him.

He had never really believed in magic, although he had thought himself open to new ideas and experiences, but he had never been offered any real evidence of magical realms or abilities. There was of course the nonsensical idea that he could do anything he wanted; ever since he'd been younger, it'd been the way, whatever he wanted, he got…but that was wealth granting those wishes, not a genie, or a spell…so it held very little consideration then, in his bereavement depression. Disheartened, lost to love, and utterly alone, nothing but sadness and upset filled him…the obsessive vigour to bring her to him was yet to come to him.

Out of fear for his sanity as much as his health, his concerned parents had insisted he go away from the castle, from everything that would remind him of Her….and whilst dwelling on the thought of where he could go and gazing longingly at a photo of his dead love he started pouring over a thousand what-ifs…what if she was not lost eternally, what if he could somehow reach her from here…

The stubborn side of him was spurred into this hope…it would not be a what-if for much longer…several sleepless nights later he had found what he wanted after going through what felt like a thousand books for information on races and religions who believed in life after death…and their origins would be his starting point. His parents had no objections; anything to stop the unhealthy brooding in a studio filled with artwork of a dead woman…

It was of course on this myopic quest he was given the Eye by Destiny in the form of the mysterious figure of Shadi, keeper of the Millennium Items. The Millennium Eye opened the minds of everyone to him, and offered him a fragment of hope for Cynthia's return to life. And then of course I discovered there were different items, with other powers and abilities, he would combine them with KaibaCorp Technology and…Cynthia could be returned to life.

He sighed, conjuring up a thought of his beautiful wife, considering what would be when she returned. Would she remember anything of her existence in the Afterworld? Would she have aged and grown? She recognised him in the tomb…he'd thought it a dream until he realised he had metal in his socket, not the watery orb of a human eye.

There wasn't anything he wouldn't sacrifice ten times to have her back...so he could touch her, speak to her…be with her in mind, body and soul…Every dirty trick, every bad deal he'd done behind closed doors had paid him richly, but it hurt. It hurt having to talk big, having to make everyone think he was a heartless insane bastard when he was the opposite…still lost in thought he felt a stab of pain as shards of glass cut into his hand. Standing up quickly he dropped the snapped stem of his wine glass; so preoccupied, he hadn't noticed as his grip had tightened in self-hate and resulted in the crushing of the spun glass. Cursing, he held his hand up into the light of the dim natural light, inspecting the damage. Grimacing, he removed several of the larger shards slowly, binding his bleeding hand in a handkerchief. Noticing the carpet too was drenched in the Claret, he felt the sting as the wine got under his skin and into his wounds, the sweet tasting drink mixing with the metallic strong scented soup of blood and mingling… This pain was great, but nothing to how it felt to losing Cynthia; if he failed, all hope was lost. His soul would be crushed. Life would have no meaning.

Though it felt so totally wrong…he hadn't wanted to kidnap Mokuba, or steal the souls…but he had to. They meant nothing to him personally, but the reaction from Yugi and his band of friends had instilled a fear in him. Was he really the villain they thought him to be? Was he truly so evil? Hand to forehead as if a pain had appeared, he found himself spiralling into a pit of self-loathing; he truly was the worse kind of person.

When had people began to mean so little to him? Was his quest for Cynthia just destroying the person he was? In recovering her soul, was he losing his in the process? Shouldn't he dissolve Duellist's Kingdom and give their souls back? He, of all people, should know what it was to lose someone you love, so why had he taken those souls so maliciously? Worse, why had he revelled so openly in their theft? How had he been corrupted so drastically? Surely, this wasn't the way to get his lover back? Ashamed, he looked at the floor, at the dark stain of blood and wine…if he failed in this crazy quest, he would have lost more then a glass and some blood…he'd lost his reputation as a respectable business man and the confidence and respect of KaibaCorp's CEO for nothing…

What's done is done; you know that there was no other way; you spent sleepless nights trying to find an alternative! If Kaiba-boy had just given you that technology...his brother wouldn't be languishing in a cell. If he plays ball tough, you just gotta play tougher.

He felt a cold comfort draw around him, the self-defence mechanism of the human mind to blame even the most undeniable of sins on all else but the true perpetrator.

He looked across the room, a magnificent portrait hanging off the wall. She hadn't lived to see it completed, and only recently had he found it out and decided to finish it. When he bought he back, she would have to live here, alone with him, in secret. No one could ever know what he'd done. Everything would be perfect for his queen, he was sure. And she wouldn't ever get sick, she wouldn't ever leave him. If she wanted to stay 24 forever, he would do it…for her, he would do anything. She wouldn't suffer anything ever again.

Eyes glazed over with a shiny film of love, he sighed, revelling in the happiness that she wasn't as far from him anymore…Everything was going according to plan, Yugi and Seto were duelling, but Seto would win; by hook or by crook…

Forgetting his lesson, he cast about for another glass. Finding one, he filled it half-full with the remaining claret, swirling round the thick burgundy-coloured liquid, allowing the scent to wash over him, before raising it, drinking from it deeply. Victory was in his grasp, and it tasted exquisite. Cynthia would be beside him in less than 72 hours…he felt a great elevation in his soul and mind as he looked smugly at the portrait, her sweet smile his returning gesture.

Loved and Lost

The sun shined through the windows of the private hospital room, the door closed, distancing him from the other patients in similarly lonely rooms along the ward. Shining warmly, the natural light filtered through the clear glass and onto the floor and bed, a golden heat descending on all below. This fulfilling warmth did not, however, reach the room's solitary occupant. Nothing but sadness seemed to penetrate the room's oppressive atmosphere; regret, sorrow….negativity seemed to exude from the sick man like coldness from an icicle….both as penetrating as the other.

Pegasus sat up in bed, an incredible pain shotting through his head, drawn to the epicentre of his left eye socket, no longer containing the Millennium Eye. Pale and clammy, not only from the lack of sleep but as a side effect to all the drugs the doctor had insisted he take… three times daily the cheerful nurse suddenly went stony faced as she entered his room, counting out brightly coloured tablets from numerous bottles, and poured a glass of water, watching him like an eagle as he took them all.

The routine, the dullness, the monotony of it all would have driven him to the brink of insanity if he'd have been in his usual mind, the lack of colour and of company one of the few things that truly aggravated him. But now he was alone, totally alone, and there was no hope for Cynthia's resurrection, or for him. Without her, he was nothing. Emptiness filled him, a void of pathetic self sorrow echoing mournfully as he still refused to accept the plain and simple truth that she was gone, and there was nothing he could do. Without the Millennium Items, like every other person who ever lost a loved one, there was nothing that could be done to return her to life.

He would have to live the rest of his alone, with no one to love him; no one could ever replace Cynthia, no one. No one could ever be as loving and understanding as her; no one could hold him like her; no one could just soothe him as her voice had. He had loved and lost; and he would never love another again.

He hated the hospital; the antiseptic smell that seemed to hang off everything, the cloying cool attitude of the nurses and doctors as they checked over his files, the whisperings and badly-concealed glances of surprise as they read and reread the prescriptions and notes of both the doctor and the psychologist.

Did they really think he could not hear them? The younger nurses were the worst, shyly arguing over who was to enter first and give him the medicine or routine meals, and when finally they got the gall to enter all they did was stare at him, giggling. How naïve youth can be….

He may no longer have the Eye but he'd grown accustomed to the body language of people around him, and what it usually implied to their thoughts and mood. Perhaps that was a plus to having lost it. But it was the only positive point; all goodness and positive ideas seemed to have drained out of his vision, and all he saw was black and white, not the multicoloured canvas life had been when Cynthia had been alive, or when he still had hope for her revival.

There was nothing left to live for. If he'd have had the courage, he'd deduced he'd have attempted taking his life several months ago, when they'd still had to sedate him to sleeping…but he didn't have the bottle; quite literally.

Now they believed him to recovering; the scarily young doctor of psychology had diagnosed him for manic-depression, and of course his medication had been adjusted. Everyone was convinced that very soon he'd be out of the hospital he'd inhabited for nearly 9 months and back home in his castle far away.

He detested the idea of returning home, to where he had so many memories, all painful. He also hated the idea of having to face her, even if it was only her gravestone, or her portrait. Perhaps he was too talented; whenever he glanced at her pictures, they seemed to smile back with her soul, as if he's captured it, like he had with all those souls in cards… Stuck in here, with all these medical professionals he only recognised by their hair colour or smile was better than returning to his home, and facing Cynthia alone, having to tell himself over and over he'd lost hope, he'd lost her…and trying to tell her it was alright….

Sighing he bent his head forward, closing his remaining eye and shuddered, stomach queasy. He hadn't felt at all right because of all the pills he'd been made to take for so long; he could hardly wait until he could just stop taking them all…to be normal, to be able to do what he wanted, to watch his toons, to read his comics, to drink his own proper wine and play with his cards again.

That was another point; he'd enjoyed Duellist's Kingdom a whole lot more than he'd anticipated; although originally just a means to and end; Yugi's Millennium Puzzle, he had enjoyed the spirit of duelling and the talent exhibited by those who could play…

But another such tournament would be out of the question; surely Seto Kaiba would never so much as hear his name without sneering. And Yugi; he would never take him seriously again. Upon finding out that the possessor of the Millennium Puzzle and his friends had entered his sanctuary whilst he had been incapacitated; undoubtedly discovering the real reason behind his competition, surely Yugi would believe him to be unbalanced? He'd personally preferred it when the band of high school kids had thought him evil and thoughtless. The score with Keith had been settled; why would he ever dare enter another duellist competition? He'd watched the Battle City with a certain degree of interest, expecting new talent, or at least renewed vigour and different tactics. But no; it had disappointed him; just another excuse for young Mr. Kaiba to preen and compose himself as an ice-cold businessman. Still, what did it matter to him? Surely he'd never be welcome among the Duelling Elite now they knew, or thought they knew the real him from Duellist Kingdom. When one cannot even compete in the game one created, it must be considered the end of one's credibility, or at least one's respect. Why should the prodigy's ever trust me again?

On this depressing downward spiral he again descended; barely aware of the pain that was gathering, until he felt an explosion of agony. He gasped with renewed pain, something akin to a knife being thrust into his eye, stabbing him with pain, almost causing him to cry aloud. Forgetting his train of thought, forgetting everything put the pain he curled up smaller, wondering if he would ever get back out into the real world, if he would ever get out of this accursed hospital and if he would ever get out of this self-pitying pathetic weakling, afraid of the world and all those in it.

Dear all

I wrote this a fanfiction a long time ago, nearly two years have passed, during a very turbulent time of my life. It has remained unfinished for a long time, and as my YGO knowledge is shaky after Noa Arc, I felt it best to leave it here. Originally, back as a member of Minor Arcana, the ending tailed off into a new romance for Pegasus, with my character, Murasaki. Unfortunately, owing to circumstances, Minor Arcana fell into disarray, and I found it painful to even look at my work from that period for well ove a year.

Finding this, my interpretation of Pegasus and Cynthia's beautiful love, on an old backup disc, filled me with nostalgia; despite animosity still remaining. This will mean very little to those who do not know me, but uploading the entirity of Love At First Sight is a big step for me; for those Roseshippers out there, I hope you read and enjoyed LAFS. This is for you, and I hope we all feel love like theirs at some point in our lives.

All My Love

MadamGrandAdmiral