Chapter Text
The only thing Ahkmenrah loved about Egypt was the beautiful sunset surfacing over the horizon of the barren land. It was as pink as the jewels in the family’s bountiful treasure, gold as the sea of grains, and grand as the pyramids where the sun displayed its final hour of glory. The impending night hovers in the background like a gigantic blanket steadily covering any inch of nature’s light. He had always thought the night was blue, quite darker than the daylight but far decorated with the twinkling stars shining above like sugar cubes and the full moon brilliant to be the midnight’s sun. However, for tonight, there were hardly any sight of stars or the moon but instead dark clouds spreading alongside it. Save for the torches burning outside where each soldier stood his post. Instead of blue, the evening grew pitch black as the statue of Anubis who howled for the dead. It was an unfortunate color, dare say an oracle from the gods. He couldn’t have any comfort from the cold wind chilling his skin; no emotion as it remains silent and heartless for nightmares to crawl into Ahkmenrah’s dreams. The young pharaoh prayed for Bes and Tutu as the shadows lurked around anxiously waiting for Ahkmenrah to embrace them as they are.
Ahkmenrah woke up to the sudden sounds of his door opened by a crack. The white doors, powerful and grand, were breached by a small gap easy enough for one individual to pass. He gasped, sitting up from his bed and clutched the white silk sheets. His deshret sat on a pedestal beside his bed while his usekh, cloth belt and shawl cape hung nearby, leaving him vulnerable with only his shendyt. His two pet cats, Nefertiti and Nile, were sleeping close to him in their own bed. Part of him believed one of his servants briefly came in or that his father was sent a soldier to guard the interior of his son’s bedroom. He knew his father can be overprotective and by telling him of the omen only increased his concerns. However, he would’ve heard voices reassuring his safety, convincing him to return to his slumber. He heard nothing but the evening wind and it elevated his distress.
Getting out of bed, Ahkmenrah proceeded towards the doors while still holding onto the sheets like a security blanket. The young pharaoh peeked outside his door, checking to see for any suspicious activity. The hallways were strangely dark, without a single torch lit and heavily relying on the moonlight gleaming outside. He was hoping to at least receive a notice from a guard, but nothing came. It should’ve concerned him but for some reason, Ahkmenrah thought nothing of it before closing the door. A sigh escaped from his breath, releasing the tension writhing his muscles and mind. He had hoped to go back to bed and rest up for the following dawn to another fulfilling day.
At least that was what he thought before experiencing a sharp pain jerking his back. He gasped in agony, grimacing but his voice was silenced upon feeling a hand in his mouth. Something was pulled out of him—it felt excruciatingly painful somehow—and was sheathed again into another part of his back. Ahkmenrah yelped, his hands scrunched and pounded on the door to try make an alternative sound. Pulled away from potential salvation, the weakened pharaoh was tossed to the ground. Grunting, Ahkmenrah turned around to see a familiar shadow emerging towards the white light with a sword, the murder weapon, drenched in his blood.
“Pathetic! Father was wrong about choosing you as ruler of Egypt! Look at you! Still a child!” scowled the figure, unveiling to be none other than Kahmunrah, his older brother. Technically, half-brother, being born from one of his father’s mistresses.
“K-K-Kahmunrah?” croaked Ahkmenrah. “B-But why?”
“Isn’t it obvious? The throne belonged to me until you stole my birth right!” At first, he was the successor to ruling Egypt before the Queen gave birth to Ahkmenrah when his older brother turned five. Either way, father never approved of Kahmunrah’s arrogant behavior.
“You’re insane!” cried Ahkmenrah.
“May be so but I’m doing a favor for the gods.”
As the sadistic elder brother sauntered towards the helpless Ahkmenrah, the latter attempted to evade from the monstrous traitor. This incredibly jealous-riddled brother who, from the remained of his life, was eclipsed by the young pharaoh’s greatness. Receiving the people’s respect, his parents’ love, and spotlight, Kahmunrah’s hatred turned to a murder scheme. Ahkmenrah, while crawling away, tried to scream out for help. For guards, for his parents—even if it meant it would be the last time he would see them. Unfortunately, his murderer latched onto his mouth, gripping tightly as he pulled him towards the bed. The younger brother feebly hit Kahmunrah, experiencing blood loss pouring out of his back and his frail muscles dying out.
When pinned upon his bed, Ahkmenrah felt tears streaming down his cheeks as terror dragged his entire body. His heart wrenched by this betrayal not because he wasn’t expecting it but because deep down, he wanted to get along with Kahmunrah. He wasn’t oblivious by how much the latter hated him yet his naiveness believed the two could’ve made Egypt prosperous. He thought of his parents, the hopeless image of being separated by death even with the gift of the golden tablet in his possession. Strangely, at age seventeen, he felt like he had experienced everything and willingly faced Osiris in the afterlife as the crook and flail ornamented in his tomb.
“Farewell, brother,” Kahmunrah replied, and his dagger sank deep into the dying young pharaoh.
****
Ahkmenrah gasped, opening his eyes to a vision of eternal darkness. His hands slamming against the hard interior of his sarcophagus and his chest heaving in and out. Although the waking hour was over, remnants of nightfall prevailed to give him life. young pharaoh attempted to lift the lid, but it wouldn’t stir; he began to panic.
“Larry! Mother! Father! Help!” screamed Ahkmenrah. However, he seemed to forget that he was in London after his visiting tour in New York was over. He had forgotten that Tilly locked the sarcophagus after she and Lancelot escorted him back to his chambers. She still couldn’t grasp about his claustrophobia, let alone the fact that he couldn’t get out on his own. Soon enough, the fear further increased as tears streamed below his eyes like rainfall.
“Help! Please!” he continued to cry. “Somebody, please!”
Through the constant bangs he inflicted on the coffin, Ahkmenrah turned his head to the left and repeatedly cried for aid. It only reminded him of the dark days in New York when he remained trapped while everyone else had their freedom to roam around the hallways. They were lied to by the previous security guards that he was a dangerous and ruthless artifact. He remembered how much distress he felt before Larry and his son released him.
“Help! Help! Please!”
Just then, metallic noises clanged from the outer perimeter and drew closer to his casket. Ahkmenrah’s heart jump, not because someone answered his pleas but because he knew exactly who it was. Without hesitation, the lid began to shake and shifted off for Ahkmenrah to be greeted by the museum’s lights. Ahkmenrah sat up and gasped, relieved from the stuffy environment and welcomed back the outside air. His hands firmly gripped the outline of his casket, his body stiffened with terror and black droplets of his ruined eyeliner dripped below.
“My King! Are you alright?” a handsome British voice asked the frightened pharaoh.
Ahkmenrah glanced to his left to meet Lancelot’s worried expression. His helmet tossed to the side nearby as the man slightly drew breaths through his nose. It was obvious he ran from the Arthurian exhibit over to his. He could’ve come up with a quip, but his blank mind melted away the words from his mouth. For now, he was glad his knight had come as he embraced him. Ahkmenrah sobbed, hiding his face upon the pauldron while Lancelot comforted him. He pressed a kiss on the Egyptian’s hair before resting his chin on top and his steel gauntlets softened his lover’s warm body.
“I’m sorry, Lancelot. I…I…” Ahkmenrah wept.
“You mustn’t apologize, love. I heard your voice and came as fast as I could,” Lancelot responded. “It’s all right.”
“I…I dreamt about my death.”
Lancelot gazed down at his distressed pharaoh who continued to cover his face from his knight. “I saw everything,” Ahkmenrah continued. “Felt everything. How scared I was, knowing I wouldn’t see mother and father again and seeing the hatred my brother had on me.”
Lancelot remembered asking Larry about Ahkmenrah’s family line, bringing up Kahmunrah whom the latter met at the Smithsonian. The self-centered and entitled royal was the black sheep of the family, wanted absolute power and was responsible for trying to take over the world by stealing the tablet. Although Larry reassured the knight that the cursed pharaoh was casted forever in the underworld, it gave more reason for Lancelot to keep his guard up and protect Ahkmenrah at all cost.
“He killed me. Kahmunrah. It was in the middle of night, and I tried to escape. But I was so terrified. The stab wounds, the blood, everything. I can’t. The whole memory is still stuck in my head.”
Witnessing Ahkmenrah crumbling in such distress, Lancelot’s heart ached. The young pharaoh was kind, true and sarcastic at times; he couldn’t imagine how someone so dastardly could harm him.
“My King,” Lancelot soothed the Egyptian teenager. “Ahkmenrah.”
His hands gently held the pharaoh’s face, raising his attention upon the British man’s azure eyes. His dark eyeliner was smudged with tears, Lancelot’s thumb wiped them away; Ahkmenrah felt slightly embarrassed to have his lover see his ruined make up. He attempted to look away but was convinced otherwise when Lancelot spoke, “Please.” His knight gave him a kiss, softened his weakened heart as a floral-colored blush warmed his cheeks. His fingers entangled onto Lancelot's golden hair meanwhile the knight's hands moved from his face to softly squeezing his shoulders. If the time limit wasn’t a problem, they would’ve had no problem remaining in each other’s arms.
Once their lips parted, Lancelot proceeded, “It was a nightmare. But all of that will never happened to you. Not while I’m here.”
“I’m just worried about Kahmunrah finding his way here and trying to steal the tablet. He’ll destroy father, mother, and you. That is something I cannot bear.”
“My King, do you remember my vow? I pledged my mind, body, and soul to you for as long as I remain in your company. If Kahmunrah somehow escaped the underworld and dares to step foot in this museum, I will make sure he doesn’t harm you and your family. I will protect you with all my might.”
Ahkmenrah smiled gracefully but hesitation continued to brew.
“But if you feel you cannot rest peacefully until the evening,” Lancelot then added. “I shall be right here.”
“But what about..?”
“Don’t worry about me. I am your knight, and I shall always be by your side.”
Lancelot pressed a gentle kiss on Ahkmenrah’s lips, calming the latter’s worries. Their forehead touched and the tip of their noses pecking each other; it was everything the young pharaoh needed to get by. His brown eyes soon glanced behind his lover, noticing a speck of dawn rising upon the window. The knight, never needing to look back, obliged, “One more kiss before we sleep.” Ahkmenrah gave his knight the last kiss before he comfortably returned to his sarcophagus. The two lovers exchanged glances as Lancelot said, “I love you, my King.”
“I love you too, my knight,” smiled Ahkmenrah, closing his eyes as Lancelot closes the lid.
Camelot’s greatest knight put on his helmet and stood up right next to his lover’s sarcophagus. Pulling out his sword, Lancelot got into a guarding position just as the glowing sunrise began to hit the floors of the museum. Warm and bright, Lancelot returned to his wax state with the final thought being about his beloved Ahkmenrah.
When the museum opened, everyone but Tilly were curious as to how a medieval knight landed beside an Egyptian tomb.