Chapter Text
“Hold still,” a voice admonished, hovering around a firm body, jars of ointments laying open at her feet. “Isis, apply more of the sacred oil,” came the disgruntled reply. Lifting her gaze briefly from her task, the strong priestess replied, “Yes, of course, Mahaado.” Isis dipped the tip of her reed brush into the small vial and proceeded to trace the sprawling scar tissue until it gleamed with a thick layer of oil. Beneath her fingers, Mahaado squirmed and huffed impatiently. Noticing his discontent, Isis lowered her reed brush and sat herself down beside the magician-priest. “It’s looking much better. You can see how the scar tissue is lifting.” Mahaado barely looked at her and grunted a response. Uncertainty, she offered, “One can barely notice it.” Mahaado simply huffed and began gathering the containers and jars.
“Thank you, Lady Isis. Even if the scar fades, the memory of how it got there will not.” Isis nodded knowing. With a final glance at her fellow priest, Isis stood and straightened her robes. “If that is all, I will take my leave.” As Isis’ footsteps receded down the hall, Mahaado carelessly tossed a long shirt over himself and continued gathering the jars of healing ointment. Moments later, he heard footsteps approach the door.
“Isis,” he called, not turning around. “Next time, I think we should -” Mahaado stopped in his tracks as he wheeled around to see none other than his pharaoh before him.
“My king! What-what are you doing here?”
Atem gazed up at him, guilt evident in his eyes as if he’d been caught sneaking away from one of his lessons.
“Seto told me there was something I should see. Something you are hiding from me.”
“That bastard,” Mahaado muttered, barely able to contain his fury. “I'll kill him,” he spat, pushing past the pharaoh towards the door.
Atem stood still where he was, eyes closed. “Mahaado.”
Mahaado stilled, recognizing an order from his sovereign king. “Mahaado, come here.” Averting his gaze, Mahaado made his way to stand in front of Atem, the long shirt he wore shifting with the movement.
“Mahaado, we’ve known each other for so long. We’ve never kept secrets.” Mahaado flinched, hating himself for the sadness that marred his pharaoh’s face. “You have a right to your privacy, of course. I would never ask you to reveal something you are uncomfortable sharing. I just wish I knew why you no longer trust me.”
At that, Mahaado’s resolve crumbled and his breath hitched. He couldn’t..he wouldn’t deny his pharaoh the truth any longer.
“As you wish, my pharaoh,” he said, still averting his gaze. Mahaado’s hands reached down to the helm of his shirt, aiming to pull it up and over his head. Instead, Atem’s hands covered his own. “If you agree….may I?”
Mahaado breathed a sign and shut his eyes tightly. “Yes of course, my pharaoh. Go ahead.”
Carefully, as if Mahaado were glass that would break at the merest touch, Atem gripped the edge of the garment and pulled it up by the slightest inch. The thinnest sliver of Mahaado’s toned waist came into view, as well as the tiniest sliver of his time-worn scar. Mahaado hitched his breath as Atem lifted the garment an inch more, and then another inch. Mahaado wished he would rip the shirt from his person and reveal the wretched scar and cast him from his presence, as had played out in his mind’s eye so many times.
Atem continued his agonizingly slow ascent, his face never straying from Mahaado’s body and his expression never slipping from practiced neutrality. Finally, the long shirt went up and over Mahaado’s head, leaving his scar fully exposed to Atem’s waiting gaze.
Atem stared, motionless, his eyes tracing and retracing the path of the long scar that snaked its way around his friend's once unblemished torso. “Is this...?” Atem finally breathed, a sob cutting off his question.
“It is.” Mahaado replied, squeezing his eyes shut, willing himself not to look at his friend’s pained expression.
Atem said a bit more firmly. “This is the reason why you’ve been running away from me. So that I wouldn’t see this?”
“That’s correct, my king.” His head turned away as his mind shifted to a faraway tomb, a place of darkness and death and regret.
“Every day I awake, I see this scar and remember my failure. How I couldn’t protect you. How I shirked my duty to your realm. I couldn’t bear the thought of you seeing me now, seeing this, and thinking only of that failure too.”
“You didn’t fail me.” Atem said quietly. “You never have. It was I who failed to protect you and our friends and my kingdom from the Dark One until my desperate move at the very end.”
“Atem, you needn’t make excuses for me.”
Mahaado’s heart sped up as he felt his sovereign’s hands rest gently on either side of his torso. “My strong Black Magician, when I see this scar, I think not of your defeat against the Thief King. I think of all you have suffered at my side. I think of all the pain you endured on my behalf.”
“It is a pain I would endure a thousand more times if it meant the slightest chance that you would be safe. That your dream of a new world could come to fruition.”
Wine colored eyes stared up at Mahaado. “Mahaado, my friend, I’ve lost you once. You can’t know the happiness that filled me when you were returned to me both in this world and in the other where I awakened. Fate and the gods tore you from me prematurely. I vow never to be separated from you again.”
“This,” Atem pressed his hand firmly against Mahaado’s heart area, over the worst part of his scar. “This changes nothing. Mahaado, I love you. In this world and the last and in any other we should reappear in.”
In the shadow of the neighboring corridor, a blue-clad figure watched as the pharaoh leaned into the magician, pressing their lower halves together and latching onto Mahaado’s lips.
With a final glance in their direction, Seto straightened himself and turned away.