Series: Tales of the Three Realms
Notes: This is a side-story to "Undercover Pharaoh." Story notes may be found on my LJ. The other stories in this series are listed on my profile; just look for the series name on the "story tree."
Disclaimer: Yugioh is the creation of Kazuki Takahashi.
A Sister's Heart
By Lucidscreamer
Isis awoke with a strangled shout stealing her breath. Struggling to throw off the dream, she lay tangled in the sheets as she panted, unable to breathe. Her fingers clawed into the mattress as she fought back the terror and grief the nightmare images had left squatting like a demon on her chest. Sweat trickled down her face, mingling with the tears streaking her cheeks. When she finally managed to draw air into her straining lungs, the sound she made was less of a gasp and more of a sob. She hated dreaming, hated remembering her dreams, but feared not remembering them even more. Because sometimes her dreams came true, and she needed to know them, even the terrible ones (especially the terrible ones). Most of all, she hated the recurring dreams, the ones that cycled - night after night - through images of terror and loss that left her feeling as if her heart had been ripped from her chest and devoured by Ammut.
Most of all, she hated dreaming of losing Atem.
Tonight's dream had been that dream - the same dream that she had been having since she was old enough to understand that her brother being the Pharaoh meant more than the family just having to memorize a bunch of rituals and being formal around him. It meant that he had a Destiny, and a prophecy that he was expected to fulfill. It meant that he was supposed to save the world.
It meant that he could die, if something went wrong. If he wasn't prepared.
From that moment onward, she had made it her duty to ensure that he was prepared. She studied relentlessly, until she could recite the ancient verses of the scriptures in her sleep. She knew more of the sacred rituals than the priests whose job it was to perform them. She read every papyrus, every stone tablet, every ostracon... even a forgotten scrap of text could contain something that might someday save Atem's life. She studied and she learned, and she forced her reluctant little brother to abide by all the strictures of his station. Because she could never know what might be the thing – the slip up, the mistake, the moment of carelessness – that could take him from her.
Firmly in control of her emotions once more, Isis rose from her bed and crept into the adjoining suite. In the faint light from the windows, she could see the Medjai Bakura keeping watch outside Atem's bedroom door. As always, the sight of the faithful guard eased some of her perpetual worry. For now, at least, Atem was safe.
Silently, she retreated to her own bedroom. An hour or so of meditation would allow her to return to (hopefully dreamless) sleep. She needed to rest so that, on the morrow, she could resume her duties to the Pharaoh.
Even though she knew it sometimes hurt Atem, even though she knew it sometimes made him hate her... Isis would do everything in her power to make certain that her dreams of that nightmare future (Atem broken, bleeding... his last breath rattling in his throat as the darkness stole the life, his very soul, from his shattered body...) never came to pass.