Disclaimer: Confusingly not mine.

A/N: Written for ygodrabble Challenge #029 – Enmity.

When Love and Hate Collide

(c) Scribbler, February 2011.

How could you hate someone and love them at the same time?

Malik crouched in the shadows, watching, waiting, wondering whether the Necklace would react to the Rod. Were the Items keyed to each other like siblings? They had been forged from the same metal, after all: the same molten blood. In childhood games of hide and seek, slipping in and out of tunnels and disused chambers, he had never been able to evade Isis for long. She seemed attuned to him in ways his childish mind couldn't comprehend. He just knew that if he had done something wrong, Isis knew he was lying when nobody else could tell. If he had stolen sweets from the kitchens, or broken a pot, or drawn pictures on the ancient scrolls in crayon, Isis knew it before anyone else. She was also the one who helped him hide misdeeds that would get him in trouble with Father. To Malik, it had seemed like magic: Special big Sister Magic, she called it, ruffling his hair when he started to cry.

Would Special Big Sister Magic work now? They were too old for games; too old for crayons or sticky fingers to be the worst weapons they wielded.

The museum corridor echoed with approaching footsteps. Voices he didn't recognise resonated, reminding him of times spent hiding from Father and the po-faced elders. How much of his childhood had been spent hiding? How much had he been denied because their lives were about hiding themselves away from the rest of the world? Red crept in around the edges of his vision, but he shook it off.

"The transfer will go ahead," said the voice he had been waiting for. "There is no alternative, gentlemen."

"But –"

"Enough." Isis left no room for argument. "Go about your duties. The arrangements are all in place. I personally saw to them. I know I can trust you to oversee things from here."

"Yes, ma'am."

And then there she was: regal, beautiful, that slightly arrogant tilt of her chin he knew so well, masking eyes that could flip between kind and stern in a heartbeat. Malik's breath caught in his throat as a rush of love swept over him. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to be five years old again, running into her arms to apologise for what he had done wrong, knowing she would forgive him. She always forgave him.

Then the hot red resentment came back. It descended like a curtain, cutting him off from those memories. She was the one trying to stop him. She was in the way. His sister was working just as hard as he was, but she was still devoted to that thrice-cursed pharaoh. She was his enemy.

She walked past his hiding place without a flicker. He waited, but she and her entourage passed out of sight. He slipped away, still unseen, back to the encampment outside town where he had left Rishid and his own followers. He had his answer.

Big Sister Magic had been superseded by the magic of the Millennium Items. If Malik needed any further proof that he was on the right path, now he had it.

Fin.