N/A: Many thanks to Chibi's Sister for beta-reading!
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Gratitude
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When she entered the dimly-lit room, her first look was for the sacred carvings. Soon, they would be transferred back to the tomb to which it always belonged, along with the other artifacts. The ordering forms were already in her hands, ready with the other needed papers. Her secretary had, of course, offered to ensure that everything was in order for the transfer but Isis insisted on performing this herself.
As the final duty of a Tombkeeper, she felt that the task of overseeing the preparations for the Pharaoh's journey toward Amenti was something to do alone.
She cleared her throat, though whether it was due to the stuffed air of the place or something else was uncertain.
Sure, leaving forever a part of Egyptian patrimony in grim, dusty chambers did not sit well with professionalism, but she assured herself again and again that the items belonged to nobody but one person.
As she approached the gilded stone, her mind felt less conflicted. Just a little less.
Though the carvings still looked the same, she could sense a difference for it was now a vestige of the past, no longer a threat that whispered about doomed worlds, ominous enemies and oncoming battles. All of this had been resolved, disappeared now that the Pharaoh had joined the afterlife.
"Amenti", she whispered. Her hand flew automatically to her neck, seeking the reassuring sense of a knowledge that could no longer be reached. What did the afterlife look like? Were the souls over there still conscious? It seemed so, considering the crowd that had been waiting for the King to join them in the light.
The thought of meeting all the known people there again was fascinating but also terrible. She clasped the fabric of her dress tightly at the idea of seeing her father.
What could he say? Perhaps Mother would be also with him but Isis highly doubted this considering the hard life her husband made her to live all of them, under the pretense of serving the great King.
Her gaze lingered on the engraved royal figure and she wondered how her father would react to meeting the Pharaoh.
Perhaps he would fall to his knees, telling the king of their great honor in safeguarding his legacy and of all the sacrifices that had been done for him. Then, how the Pharaoh could respond? Would he be harsh toward her father, blaming him for having abused of his children? Would he act coldly, offering the man an hollow and terse 'Thank you'? Or, perhaps would there be something more within this phrase. Something... warm?
Thank you...
The Pharaoh had never thanked her and her brothers for their service, but the way he sought to free her brother from his inner darkness, despite all the harm Malik had given him and his friends, spoke a lot about his gratefulness. Still...
Her fingertips longed to reach the carvings and trace the deep lines of the King's face as they often did when she was a child, back in the tunnels. She restrained herself. Such forwardness and familiarity were shocking.
"Miss Ishtar?
Her hands tensed. She clasped them in front of her to still them, all while arranging her face in a perfectly veiled expression. "I am here. Is something the matter?"
After a brief silence, the office assistant continued, her voice echoing in the room. "The Cairo Museum's director wishes to speak to you about the third dynasty artifacts transfer."
"Very well, please tell him that I am coming soon."
Isis took a moment to look over the remaining artifacts.
One day, when it would be time to accompany her brothers to the Fields of Reeds...perhaps then, the Pharaoh would thank them all for their service. Perhaps he would thank her...
... and a part of her craved hearing him it.