AN: Based on a mix of the anime and manga, although this story doesn't stringently follow either one. Also, the function of a ka is a little different but still recognizable enough to be canon-ish.

On Love and Loyalty

"Do you know that there will be another war?"

A soft rap at her door drew Isis' attention from her work. When she went to answer it, she was met with Mahaad, who looked rather surprised. "I apologize for disturbing you at this time of night," he said in a low voice, "But I -" he paused and swallowed, "I have a problem that cannot wait."

Before she could ask, Isis' attention dipped to the young girl cowering behind him. The girl shrunk when she saw that she was noticed, a hand clutching a clump of Mahaad's robes. Isis had seen her around a few times toddling behind him but she hadn't paid enough attention to remember her name.

She smiled kindly at the girl before turning back to Mahaad, "Of course. What is it?"

He made no attempt to answer, his mouth set in a straight line. He made eye-contact with the girl as if wanting her to speak in his place before stepping aside and pushing her forward. From behind him, Isis hadn't noticed, but now she could see that the girl had a blanket clumsily wrapped around her waist.

"Matters that only a woman would understand," he said carefully.

"I see."

The girl flushed in deep shame, tightening the blanket around her. She gave a small grunt when Mahaad gave a less-than-gentle push. "Can you help her?"

Isis refrained from chuckling. "Of course."

"Thank you." His very obvious relief was, perhaps, even funnier than his struggle to voice the problem in the first place.

Isis crouched down to the girl's height, soothing her robes over her legs. "My name is Isis and it looks to me like we'll be spending some time together. You have a very pretty face, I wish I knew the name that goes with that face."

"Mana, Master Isis."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mana. Come and chat with me for a bit. You'll be back with your master by morning, I promise."

In this land, Spiria had thought she'd never hear of war again. As promised, Aaru had been good to them, providing its inhabitants with everything they needed to carry on their lives where they had left off.

The Nile's shadow was a clear blue, cleaner and more beautiful than its original. One could see straight through to the sandy bottom when it was free of fish, and when fish was abundant, this precious river would be so thick of them that its very colour changed.

She recoiled at the thought of war, her mind going back to a time when she had martyred herself in nearly every way for the sake of another. She had not said a word about it then and she would hold her peace now. She would not speak ill of the dead, especially of one deprived of a rested afterlife even though he'd deserved it more than she did.

"I have only heard rumors of the Dark Games returning."

It was hotter inside the clay vase than Mana had expected, and especially so since she was pressed up against a very sweaty Atem. "You do know how to get out, right prince?" She hissed as she tried to yank a strand of hair from the giant ornament dangling from his ear.

"It cannot be more difficult than getting in, can it?"

"That is sound logic. But my leg is cramping and my hair is stuck."

"Then you are not sitting correctly, nor are you pulling it out correctly."

Mana tried to readjust her leg but couldn't do so without pulling on him in the process. Their heads bumped.

"Ow."

"Apologies, prince but I -" she grunted, one dusty hand on her hair, the other ever so gently on the clasp of his earring, "This is hard."

"You're hurting me, stop it!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Let me do it, then."

"I can do so on my own, it was my fault anyways."

"Mana! I am bleeding!"

"You are not bleeding."

"Yes I am! This is blood. Can you not feel it? Stop pulling!"

"I do not see any blood. I've almost got it, hold still, prince."

"Ow!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Let go!"

"I almost have it."

"No, you do not. Let go now."

"Perhaps you can take the earring off."

"Are you ordering me now?"

"It was a helpful suggestion."

"Here is a better suggestion: you use your magic to undo the knot."

Mana paused to think, "But I don't know how to do that."

"You cannot do even that? Then what have you been studying all this time?"

"More important magic. Like freezing spells. And um… well perhaps I can give it a try? Let me just find my… oh damn."

"What is it?"

"My staff, I left it outside."

"WHAT?"

"I needed two hands to climb in so I couldn't take it with me."

"But now they will know we're in here!"

"Oh. Oops."

"MANA!"

In his outrage, Atem knocked their foreheads together again. "Ow."

"Ah! I have an idea!" Mana said as she rubbed her forehead through her damp bangs. "I can summon my magic text. I don't need the staff to do that!"

"But -"

Too late. The unusually large, heavy book appeared in front of her, wisps of smoke flittering away as it dropped into her arms.

"Argh!"

"I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking!"

"It poked me in the eye! Get it out right now!"

But Mana was too busy trying to manoeuvre herself in such a way that the corner of the book didn't press so deeply into her abdomen. Unfortunately, she quickly realized it wasn't going to happen unless she somehow smashed a hole in the vase. Between Atem, the curve of the vase and the extra large edge of the book, there was barely any breathing space. It wasn't open to the right page either.

And it didn't help that Atem kept struggling, causing that cursed corner to jab her over and over. Despite her complaints, he kept shoving the book against her, squishing her against the vase in the increasingly uncomfortable ways. The vase began to rock back and forth, first only a little, then in dangerously large swings. It wasn't until it tipped over completely that they noticed.

Atem and Mana braced themselves as their hiding place crashed to the ground, shattering into large, jagged pieces. For a moment, the two lay stiff on the ground, forearms covering their faces from the impact. Then, they slowly lifted themselves onto their knees, careful not to cut themselves more than they already did.

They did not have time to inspect their injuries.

"Mana." The sound of her own name was enough to sink her with guilt. "Did I not tell you this would happen?"

Eyes fixed on the ground, she didn't reply.

"Did I not tell you, Mana?"

"Yes, master."

"And, still, you disobey me. Now you've hurt yourself and the prince."

She sucked in a breath, gearing for her next pathetic answer, but Atem beat her to it.

"It was my idea this time. And I apologize."

Mahaad's demeanour shifted radically. "No prince, I don't blame you."

"Well, you should. It was my fault." He said so with so much self-assurance that Mana had to turn to see if it was Atem who'd actually said it. And when she did, she saw that he was no longer as disoriented as she was. Even sitting amongst a bunch of rubble, he looked dignified, the dust and scarring seeming to fade into the background.

Her master remained silent, his left hand cracking each finger one by one. It was something he always did when he was stressed – or when he was backed into a corner.

"Isis, what do you think?" Atem said, as though someone other than him was getting in trouble.

Isis? She'd been so quiet that Mana barely noticed her presence. Sure enough, she was there, as if waiting for the right moment to slip herself into the scene. Her face was neutral, unreproachful.

She knelt between the two of them, her robes pooling neatly around her. She nudged some of the pieces out of the way and spoke first to Atem. "Are you okay, prince? Your hands are bleeding."

"It was my fault. I will deal with it."

"I can help you," she said gently, "I have bandaged wounds like these before."

The corner of Atem's mouth twitched, like he was struggling to keep his composure. "No. I am at fault, I will deal with the consequences."

Isis did not bat an eye. "A fair assessment, but a slightly harsh one, don't you think?"

"It is what father would call 'justice.'"

"There is mercy, also."

"Only to those who deserve it."

She touched his shoulder, "And how do you assess who deserves it?"

"I… do not know."

"Then we can talk some more about it once we are washed and changed. I'd like to hear more of your thoughts if you'd indulge me." She turned to Mana, "You too, magician."

Mana turned away, feeling small. "I am no magician."

Isis smiled, looking disappointed. "Well that is unfortunate because you're the only other female spell-user. I get lonely talking to myself all the time."

"You are… too great for me, Master Isis."

Isis laughed, "Do not exclude me just yet, magician. I deserve at least a first chance."

Mana just stared.

"Perhaps I can prove myself while we wash." She stood and dusted her hands, somehow compelling the two to do the same as well. "Your master Mahaad will see that is this cleaned up." She nodded at him, her eyes mirthful, "Thank you, Mahaad."

He looked stiff, uncomfortable and very, very lost. Mana couldn't help a smile at that.

Isis led the way and the two followed behind her.

Mahaad would stare at them. It was almost certain that he would stare but, somehow, it didn't to matter as much anymore.

The girl magician seated herself at the Nile's bank, took off her shoes and dipped her feet in the water, just as Spiria was doing. She placed her staff between them. "I think by now I can guess what your thoughts would be, but I'd like to hear them anyways."

Mana jerked awake just as her forehead hit the table. She touched her right cheek, embarrassed to find that she'd been drooling. At least she was alone.

In front of her were a slew of scrolls, all unfurled to different degrees and in such disarray that she'd forgotten their ordering. Various writing utensils lay scattered at her table, a single oil lamp giving light to the fiasco. The sight of them made her insides twist. She'd read most of them (maybe) but she couldn't remember what she'd read. The so-called notes she'd taken didn't really help in the matter either.

It was amazing how boring this stuff was and how good they were at putting her to sleep. How her master actually took interest in them, much less absorb them himself, was beyond her. She drank what was left of her water and rubbed her eyes, hoping to force some degree of clarity upon herself so that she could plow through the rest.

No use. She was too tired to think and whatever she'd read would just pass over her head anyways. Mana stretched and lifted herself out of her seat, heading out into the hall. Going to bed only meant that she'd think about everything she'd failed to do which, in turn, meant she wouldn't get a wink of sleep.

At this time of night, the hallways were empty. Mana wasn't going to bump into anyone who would judge her, reprimand her or mistake her for one of those filthy servant girls. And she wasn't going to get chastised for the way she looked when she wandered around in deep thought.

The cold air coming through the large, open windows grazed her bare skin, but she didn't mind. It had been stuffy in her room and fresh air helped to wake her up a little more.

The stars dotted the inky night sky in an elegant array of light. She'd been told they formed patterns but she'd never been able to see them. However, like the flame of a candle, they were good at holding one's attention. But it wasn't until one of them moved that Mana halted her step to lean out one of the windows.

Indeed it moved, but closer inspection told her it wasn't a star. The creature twirled and twisted through the air, its movements as sleek as a fish. The moonlight bounced off its metallic blue skin, making it look like its body was blinking. She settled herself against the cool stone, resting her chin on her hands as she watched on.

Her master had once mentioned what these were. They were the ka of magic-users, he'd said, and they can only be summoned by someone with expert control. She'd only seen her master's ka once but she'd been too young at that time to remember what it looked like.

Mana yawned. It wasn't like she was going to summon her ka anytime soon. She could barely get a spell right without fumbling with it. And what was the point to it anyways? To show off? Everyone else could have that, she didn't want it.

She didn't know when she'd fallen asleep, but she was in her bed when she woke up. She sat up, perturbed to see her desk neatly organized. The mess had been cleared, everything moved to either side. In the empty space was a note.

"Resting is not a vice, do not feel guilty for doing so. Sleep well."

"I am happy to have been a good servant when I lived and I am grateful that I can now rest. If there is to be a second death, I do not know what lies beyond." For all the effort Isis had put into masking her wiriness, Spiria's tired countenance now betrayed it all. Etched in the icy blue skin around her eyes was noticeable age. It did not, however, make her any less beautiful.

Seventy seven days had passed since the death of the pharaoh. During this time, the palace environment was sombre, most carrying on their responsibilities with little conversation. Mana rarely had to the chance to spend time with Atem and, even though she shared in his mourning, she was looking forward to things going back to the way they'd used to be. Today would be his ascension to the throne. And in her mind, it was the last hurdle before their lives could resume again.

Like a clap of thunder, the sound of the gong ripped through the room as the crimson curtain parted and Atem stepped through in measured paces. He looked like he'd aged so much more than the three months since his father's passing. His back was straight, his footing solid and deliberate, and his face a mask of stone beneath the brilliant make-up. On either side of him, nobles and high ranking officers prostrated themselves, Mana's own master lowering himself to his knees and tugging her down with him.

From beneath her bangs, she saw Atem gradually close in on the singular throne at the centre of the East wall. Great care and laborious hours had been put into designing this space. The throne rested on a raised dais, on both sides of which was a careful depiction of the creator god's snake form accompanied by a rather large rendition of the Eye of Horus. The inner circle of the eye was inlayed with jade and obsidian, a reminder of the mysterious Asian countries from where they came. The royal space was kept carefully clean and polished so that it glowed with light when the sun's rays touched its surface. Indeed, the pharaohs who have sat upon it looked like gods.

The three counsellors stood in the places atop the dais: Shimon represented the spiritual body, Akunadin with his golden eye stood for the temporal body of the state, and Priest Set stood for the military authority. Together, the three lifted Atem to the throne of Egypt. At the sound of the gong, the chorus of people stood and raised their voices in royal salute to cheer their new pharaoh. Those outside the palace heard the shouts and joined in the celebration, their voices carrying into the room, filling it.

Shimon strapped the false beard of the kingship upon Atem's chin. Akunadin bound the lion's tail around his waist and settled the golden diadem on his brow. Finally, Set stepped forward to place the golden crook and flail in his hands. One by one, the great lords of Egypt knelt before the throne and swore their allegiance.

Mana tried to catch Atem's attention so that she herself could let him know how proud she was. But his gaze was fixed directly in front of him, his countenance expressionless as those much older than himself bowed at his feet.

"You should already know this, but from now on, you must never refer to him as 'prince' or by his real name." Mahaad's voice was low so that no one but her would hear.

Mana turned up to look at him. Although his words were aimed at her, her master's attention was fixed on the nobles. One hand clutched the rim of his Sennen Ring.

He continued, "You will show him the same respect and reverence you showed his father. You must not touch him, you must not look him directly in the eyes, you must bow in his presence unless he instructs you otherwise."

The Priests of the Sennen Items were last to pay homage. The first one of them to go up was Karim, the one with the Scales.

"You mean to tell me we can no longer be friends?"

Next went Shada with the Key hanging heavily around his neck.

"No. I mean you change the nature of your friendship to suit your place. Pharaoh is not like the rest of us. He's a god."

Then Set, who had stepped off the dais. The Rod was clutched tightly in his right hand.

"Does he know this?"

"Of course he does. Everyone does."

Shimon was next. He did not have an item but he used to. Mana just couldn't remember which one.

"But I am not a servant like the rest of them. We are friends! I don't just do what he says, I actually care!"

Mahaad's hand fell heavily on her little shoulder, "Then present your friendship in the form of loyalty."

Isis was next and Mahaad would go after. Mana watched as she elegantly tread down the isle. The same woman that had bandaged their hands and taught them gentleness prostrated herself in front of her best friend.

"Yes, master."

"This may be my only chance to see my master and pharaoh again," the girl magician said.

Spiria's eyes fell on the water, she hesitated to reply. "Your heart is already light enough, Mana."

"I know. But I'm not doing this for a light heart."

From the balcony of the palace, Isis and Mana watched as Mahaad headed towards the front gates of the palace. Behind him, six soldiers followed, dragging the weight of a large stone tablet.

That day was just like any other. The sun shone, heating the land, and people carried about their business. Few were aware of the threat to their young pharaoh or the desecration of his father's tomb.

Mana grasped Isis' hand and squeezed it.

"You must have seen him come back. Your Sennen Necklace must have told you he'd win."

Isis squeezed back, her blue eyes were kind. "I saw that he wouldn't die. Not yet."

"You love him, don't you?"

She didn't answer.

"He was my friend before he became my pharaoh."

Mana was inconsolable. She was on her knees, her clothes soiled with dust. Before her was the very tablet her master had taken away with him, the one that now held the image of his ka, the Illusion Magician. Her master had lost to the Thief King and he was dead.

By her side, Isis said nothing. Her eyes drooped slightly, but that was all.

"How could you?" Mana couldn't bear to look at her. She just couldn't. "You let him go knowing he would die! You lied!"

"Mahaad is not gone, dear one. He has only merged with his ka and can be summoned by pharaoh again."

The inscription at the base of the tablet tore at her heart more so than the image above it. He not only sacrificed his life, but his place in the afterlife as well. There wasn't even a body for proper burial. "But how can I see him?" She asked.

Isis touched her arm and, though inclined to, Mana didn't move away. "By the ability to summon your own ka."

"Which I cannot do."

"I have a question for you."

She was surprised by Isis' change in tone. "A question?"

"What was your motivation to become a magician?"

Mana swallowed hard, clumsily wiping the tears away with her forearm. "I had none," she rasped, "He had taken me in and given me shelter. He taught me to read. I wanted to be useful, that was all."

"Does this mean you'll cease to be a magician?"

"N-no. No I won't."

"Perhaps then, you had a greater motivation after all. One that you can rely on to summon your ka. One that will help you become a great magician, like your master."

Hot tears welled in Mana's eyes again. She sucked in a breath and they spilled over. "Why did he have to die, Master Isis?"

"So that pharaoh may live."

"Did you agree with that choice?"

"I did."

"How can you be so selfless?"

Isis turned away. "I'm not selfless."

The girl magician stood and put on her shoes without bothering to dry her feet first. She grabbed her staff and tucked it in a loop around her waist.

Spiria caught her wrist, her eyes pleading. "I know pharaoh deserves rest, more so than any of us. He should be here, his soul complete and whole. I would like to help make that a reality, but -"

"There is no vice in resting, Isis. Remember?" The girl magician did not judge the one who she used to consider her mentor. She never could.

"You're far nobler than I can ever be."

"It's not nobility, more like a foolish motivation." She smiled brightly and winked, "A very foolish motivation."

"You have my utmost respect."

"You gained mine a very long time ago and never lost it. Thank you for everything, Isis." The girl magician made to leave but Spiria stopped her.

"Wait," Spiria bit her pale lip, a tinge of shame in her face. "If you see Mahaad -"

"Of course. And I'll make sure to keep him safe."

And Spiria couldn't help but laugh.

The last time Mana would see Isis, they barely had time for one last parting word. With the Sennen Items bundled in her arms, she rushed to find the pharaoh, the goal to have the Puzzle back in his hands. Behind her, Isis would fall from a great height and her tears would be for a final, resigned, act as her ka turned to dust.

Her ka manifested in the form of a young girl not unlike herself. Long, golden hair poured out from beneath a cone-like helmet and bright green eyes accented a heart-shaped face. Her pink and blue armor was designed after that of her master's, though very much less serious in tone. She would be flexible and versatile, equipped with the ability to tap into many different resources for power. Her weapon was a staff with a golden shell for a head. She would draw strength from her master and she would be most effective by his side.

The image was so clear that when Pegasus J. Crawford awoke, he couldn't tell if it had been another vision or just a dream.

-End-