Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-gi-oh. You can tell by the way this didn't happen in it.
A companion to Dragon Lady and Black Magic Woman. I needed something to flesh out my update during the first weekend of NaNoWriMo and I had an inspiration.
DL was written because pairing either of them with either Seto or Seth annoys me, BMW because I like Anzu but pair Yugi/Yami, and this because it sort of stemmed from those two, because looking at it that way it's obvious. I need to do something Seth/Seto at some point. I like that pairing.
The Torque had forseen it. But the Item could not predict what would occur when the other items were involved. She had to guess that the Puzzle's power of unity would bring the Pharaoh to his reborn other self, and allow them to become one.
Though the matter of them becoming one had not been something she'd predicted.
Her own 'reincarnation' was fascinating in the same way as the Pharaoh's. When she had been complete, looking at only half of her (the wishy-washy half, not the half whose determination had raised her to High Priestess of Isis, Goddess of Magic and Rebirth, among other things), had produced a slight feeling of annoyance.
Why didn't the girl stand up to her father? What spell cast by the Items could prevent the future she could have prevented by standing by her brother?
But visions weren't the reality, she learned through centuries watching over the Tombkeepers, choosing one on occasion to show visions. But so few were worthy of the Items, so few were ones she could lend its and her power to to change their ways, so they grew darker and darker in the dark.
Lying there on an alter for millennia, a spectator only of the world around her, only half a living spirit, had taught her to value what she had seen. To yearn for it, for her. The other half of her soul, a light amidst the endless darkness of these depths.
She'd lost Mahado, she'd lost Karim, one she'd yearned for, one she hadn't valued. So few had survived…
And then she'd died, and that which remained in the Torque had lost even the hope and light that dwelled within her soul.
There was little in her memories and the bleak visions she was shown.
Small wonder that she turned to more pleasant sights.
Strange white-gold skin, tan as the sands by birth but paled by life in darkness so that it almost seemed to glow with its own light.
An extra child, a girl not valued who loved without reservation the one she lived in the shadow of, one who scorned the responsibility that she held almost paramount.
As loyal to the Pharaoh as herself, without even having seen his divine presence once. A pure soul, a loyal heart.
Her clothes were thick to withstand the chill of the catacombs. Isis wondered what the girl who bore her own name as well as her own soul would look like in the transparent royal linens she should wear, if she were honored as the royal priestess she was.
The girl who bore her own face. But it looked so much more beautiful.
In front of a bronze mirror each morning, inspecting what the slave girls had done to her appearance, lapis and kohl and other artifice (she held it in contempt, as one who valued the truth she saw in her visions), she had seen she was beautiful. Seen it in the eyes of those around her.
But her other self with the white-gold skin was more beautiful than her, even pale as a ghost in the realm of the ghosts.
She wondered what she would look like on the surface. A child of light, beloved of light, kissed by the sun… what shade that skin would turn, how those eyes would gleam at a new discovery.
She watched her on the surface, amid the light, over and over, on the one trip she would take without the Item's intervention.
Worry. Fear, that should not cloud the eyes of an innocent. Fear of her father finding out, punishing her, punishing Rishid, punishing Malik.
Her other self even shared her knack for predictions. Isis could tell from how the vision distorted that was when the Items would take a hand. That was when she would be able to be in touch with her otherself. Show her visions, guide her. See her in the light, even if she would not be able to walk with her.
She would only be a vision to her.
Even that would be a gift from the gods. She prayed to Isis and the others often, to fill the time. When she wasn't watching every instant of her other self's revealed life, over and over.
It was a long three millennia.
She wondered what the girl would look like as a woman. Even now she showed signs of the same beauty, her own beauty, though Isis knew few would be able to tell them apart.
She would always be able to.
And then she took up the Torque, that fateful day. To serve the Pharaoh, and save her brother.
And Isis found she could not use the Torque to show her visions of herself inside the Torque. The Item had no sway over the Items, after all.
But her other self saw vision after vision of her, teasing through the past to find clues, vital information to help her brother and herself.
And, of course, she needed to see how to work the Torque. So of course she would use it to watch Isis, it's second owner, being taught how to use it.
And she was a dutiful and studious child, and watched it over and over again.
And of course she needed to learn of the Pharaoh and his court.
But the scenes she came back to, almost as often as the vital ones (some of which Isis wasn't quite sure had happened… her memory was so blurred…), were those of Isis.
Which made Isis smile, in the Item, and gladly show her light more visions.
Of the one like herself, a High Priestess in transparent royal linen.
Her light was beautiful when her cheeks glowed like the dawn.
She grew more beautiful day by day as Ra showed her his favor.
Isis watched Isis become a woman and wished that once, just once, she could speak to her. Reassure her that the future was not set when the Items were involved (somehow she never discovered that…), tell her that her quest to serve the Pharaoh was worth it, tell her of her past self, things she would not see in visions…
Touch her. Because even the Torque's visions weren't enough.