Duelist's Heiress Author Notes: This is technically my first Fan Fic, it's just not the first one I published. I hope you like it. Please read & review. Thank you.
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi Oh!
Prologue
Mheralo Ishtar awoke with a shudder. She lit her lamp, allowing her eyes to adjust to the significant lighting change. The light flowed onto the clay brown walls, causing the light to be reflected across the room, giving the walls an appearance of glowing. Mhera, as she preferred to be called, stretched out on the bed, hands above and behind her head, as she would often be when pondering something important. She ran her tan fingers through her auburn red hair anxiously. Her almost icy lavender-blue eyes showed the same concern. Normally she would never awaken this early; something was out of the normal. Her father was on business, and wasn't due back home for a day or more. Maybe he's back early, but that's highly unlikely, as I would be the first to know. My mind is probably playing tricks on me again. Mhera quickly blew out the lamp when she heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Probably Odion checking in on me again, he's been doing that the past three hours. I think he has been working too hard; poor guy must be exhausted by now. I'll put a good word in for him when my father comes home. If anyone here deserves lighter work, it would be him.
Mhera quickly feigned sleep when she heard the doorknob begin its turning. All she physically heard were the footsteps proceed to her nightstand, the sound of something being set on the desk, and the footsteps going back to the door. All she mentally heard was, "I'm home, Mheralo. Sleep well." The door shut just as slowly as it had opened, and her father's footsteps grew fainter. He shouldn't be home this early, unless it took less time than he planned, Mhera paused in mid-thought but he is usually on time, never late, never early. He always plans things out by the book. I probably should get some sleep while I can, as this may be the last chance I'll have before more things are put into motion that will make sense when all put together, I hope. Mhera lay back on to the light-blue pillow, an idea forming itself in her clever mind. The plan could wait to be put into action later that day, or tomorrow, she didn't know which one it was. She figured that the item on her desk could wait as well.
Mhera slid silently out of bed the next morning, her bare feet making little noise as they slipped onto the stone floor. She casually set her feet into her slippers, which were placed by the bed in a routine manner. Mhera proceeded to her small records desk, and looked at an envelope with her name, her full first name, written in her father's distinct handwriting. Well, I think I know what this is. She heaved a sigh. It's my turn to do the robes again. They better have removed the plates in them, or I'll be taking twenty minutes more than I should have to. How many times does my father tell them? It seems like every time, I have to remove more than the last time I did them. Her face brightened, as she remembered that most of them would be gone for the day. She could count on a few of them to always take the plates out of their robes, but that really was a small number of the robes that were washed.
Don't just speculate open it! Mhera told herself. She took a silver handled dagger from her drawer, and carefully slid the equally impressive bade across the top. She then replaced it into its dark purple sheath. It had quite an impressive history, at least to her.
She pulled a folded piece of official looking letterhead with the logo of a museum. Although she wanted to read it, the muffled slam of a door jolted her into realization about what time it was. She could usually smell the beautifully misleading aroma of coffee brewing at this time every day. She didn't smell it this morning. She would be better off doing it herself with no takers, than someone, in this case her father, go into the kitchen and there not be any. Her father was usually unpleasant in the morning, more so without his coffee. Mhera preferred tea, as she thought coffee was too bitter.
Mhera proceeded to do her self appointed task. She almost tripped on the two steps leading to her door. She drowsily opened the door, peeking her head out into the dim torch-lit hallway. She then proceeded to the central room of the odd place she called home, though to her, it was a nice thing to have a big kitchen in the center.
She turned on the coffee maker after doing the necessary preparations. Taking a brown faded chair, she sat by the coffee maker, ready to pour a cup if her father should happen to walk in. She brushed aside an auburn lock as it crossed her amethyst-sapphire eyes. She heard her father's heavy boots, along with his voice in her mind. "Have you read the note yet?" She felt his gentle hands run through her hair and down to her shoulders. "No. Should I have?" She asked with a somewhat forced smile. "Do you really have to ask such a question, Mheralo?" He said irritably. Mhera avoided his question by pouring him a cup of black coffee. Once he had his coffee, Mhera usually found that her father was more inclined to actually speak with her, rather than using telepathy that was only possible because of her abilities. She smiled as she handed him his cup, or to put it more correctly, he took it from her gently, with the smallest smile one would ever see. The smile grew bigger as he took his first drink of the warm, throat soothing liquid. His smile was still present as he hinted, with his voice, "Go get the note, and meet me-" His voice broke off, and he resumed, softly, "I believe you know where to go." He smiled, showing his brilliantly white teeth, adding before she left, "Oh, and thank you very much for making the coffee. You know me all too well, although, not as well as your mother."
Who did? Mhera thought sincerely as she left the kitchen without another word. She brushed her beautiful auburn bangs out of her face with her graceful, yet strong hand as she entered her room. She stopped in front of a grand body-sized mirror. She looked at herself quizzically. People said she looked like her mother. Yet others would say she looked more like her father. Mhera could plainly see that they were both right. She had his eyes, her hair color, and a little of both their hairstyles. To the back, Mhera's hair fell straight down; to the front her hair was naturally in pointed locks. She had bangs like his as well. Now, her disposition could be on any end of the inheritance spectrum. Most of the time, Mhera exhibited her mother's gentle disposition, and the better portion of her father's. But faced with anything stupid or aggravating, she often had her father's short temperament.
She had something else, something that she couldn't explain from whence it came. She had abilities: Telepathy, Mhera could levitate objects, even people at times, and she felt she had a stronger mind than most.
She wondered how her brother was faring, as she hadn't seen him in ten years. She thought that he defiantly took after their father in terms of appearance, and in attitude. He had their mother's emerald green eyes, with an icy glaze from their father.
She had her mother's deep colored eyes, although Mhera's were the amethyst sapphire color of her father's. She was tall, slender, and surprisingly strong for a young fourteen year-old girl. She turned fifteen less than two weeks ago. She removed the white robe she was wearing, and pulling on a silver-gray short sleeve shirt, and black cotton pants, she found herself thinking back to before her brother left. She folded her robe, laying it onto the bed gently. She sat on the bed, knowing her father would not disturb her, for he knew it too. Today was the day Keimo Ishtar had left everything he had with his dear sister ten years ago. That was the story the dagger half told. Mhera's Powers made the other half clear. This is their story.
Alright, that's the prologue. In the next Chapter, you'll meet Keimo, and an important choice will be made. Be ready for Chapter Two: The Bond. Signing off, Please Review.