Chapter Text
"The worst things: To be in bed and sleep not, To want for one who comes not, To try to please and please not."
~ Ancient Egyptian Proverb
Prince Atem was a light sleeper.
From the time he was born, his nursemaids had unwillingly sacrificed countless late hours trying to soothe his cries and rock him into a sweet surrender to the night. As fourteen short years passed - as more royal responsibilities and worries about the legacy he would one day inherit were placed upon his shoulders - his restlessness eventually transformed into insomnia. Almost every night, he would lie in bed staring up at the golden-baked bricks of the palace walls and ceilings, a thousand thoughts and doubts flitting across his weary consciousness until Nut gave birth to the mighty Horakhty anew.
But tonight was worse than the average sleepless night.
Tonight, his thoughts were deep and troubled.
Atem rolled his body onto its opposite side, his glaring eyes unable to see through the linen curtains of his canopy bed. His father barely spoke a word to him after their return from the dark tunnels beneath the palace grounds, his aging eyes still wet with tears and his body hunched with despair. Atem had witnessed with his own eyes how the Gods rained down their fury in bright flashes of lighting at their feet, but after only a few bated breaths the crackling heat in the air dispersed and the holy light faded back into the darkness. Whatever the reason for his father’s impassioned pleas for forgiveness and mercy, the Gods had indeed heard them and responded in their own mysterious way.
But what did it all mean ?
Atem growled deep in his throat. He threw his covers aside in defeat, wrapping his arms around his knees as he replayed his father’s heartfelt prayer over and over again in his mind. Although he had not been given any prior warning about the purpose of their sudden trip beneath the earth’s surface, he was not so foolish as to miss the warning implications his father had intended for him to understand.
The existence of the Millennium Items, the mystic totems so revered by their Council and their people, had somehow trampled upon the will of the Gods.
As a result, the Pharaoh, the divine Son of Ra who must always appear fearless and strong, had fallen to his knees and begged for Atem’s life at the price of his own.
‘ Father...you can’t throw yourself away so easily! ’ Atem thought as tears sprang to his weary eyes. ‘ Our people need you. I need you! ’
What could he do? He wasn’t ready to take over the throne, but he doubted that his father would listen. Pharaoh Akhenamkhanen was a reasonable and open-minded man regarding justice and their people's needs, but there were other matters that he refused to be moved by. If Atem attempted to argue with his father’s prayers to the Gods, he would only see it as a grave insult - or worse, blasphemy.
Brushing his tears away, the young prince parted his canopy curtains to glance over at his vibrantly painted altar. Despite the traditional prayers he had been taught to perform every morning since he could speak in coherent sentences, he’d never really been drawn to the piety his tutors seemed desperate to instill in him. He was raised to be Divine in blood and lineage, true, but not once had he expected to hear the mighty voices of the deities his people worshipped.
Tonight, however, he had to wonder if the Gods would be annoyed with him if he tried to pray for their help.
He thought of his father’s falling tears and quickly pushed those doubts to the back of his mind.
Atem threw himself off the bed and marched up to the leering form of the altar. His bare feet slapped against the cold stones of his royal bedchamber as he grabbed the nearest burning torch and lit the basin of black coals sitting in the middle of the table. The two smaller torches mounted onto the wall above the altar were ignited to chase away the dark shadows of the night, and once the coals were radiating a calming heat, he grabbed three Kapet balls and tossed them into the basin to burn. Sweet, perfumed smoke danced into the air as the prince lowered himself onto his knees and touched his forehead to the vibrant rug beneath him.
He took a deep, calming breath before he started to whisper against the floor.
“Oh, Amon-Re, who hears the prayers, who comes at the cry of the poor and distressed…please, have mercy on my father, he who weeps before you and bares his heart for judgment.” His fingers clenched into tight fists as he poured all of his love and respect for his Pharaoh into his words and begged them to be heard. “Please...whatever sins he may have committed, he’s all I have. Allow him to guide me just a little longer! Please ...don’t take him away from me.”
The flickering flames of the altar torches quivered ever so slightly in the gentle breeze that wafted through his open balcony and across his skin. After such a mighty display of power earlier in the day, the young prince had honestly been expecting something just as violent and terrifying. Instead, the night remained just as quiet and still as it had been before his selfish display of devotion.
The longer he stayed on his knees, the more smoke drifted up from the burning coals, and the more anxious the Egyptian prince became.
After repeating his prayers, just for good measure, he accepted the Gods’ silence without complaint and staggered on heavy legs back to his bed. He left the torches burning and the Kapet dissolving, knowing that he would most likely remain awake for the rest of the night. He leaned back against his golden headboard and squeezed his pillow against his chest, closing his eyes and listening to the crackling flames across the room.
He knew it was useless to worry like this. Whatever the Gods had intended for them, so it would be regardless of their mortal wishes or feelings. Atem could only hope that they would all be granted mercy and a sign with which to carry onward into the next day.
Just as he was beginning to calm himself through sheer force of will, and just when his body was showing signs that it might actually grant him peace on this fateful night, a sudden burst of golden light flooded his entire bedchamber. Atem couldn’t bite back a startled cry of agony as his eyes were practically burned out of their sockets, nor could he suppress the survival instinct that kicked in and caused him to fling himself to the floor. As his face pressed into the bricks below and his arms covered his head, a loud THUMP and the worrying sounds of wobbling pottery echoed from across the room.
The light faded away as quickly as it had appeared, and it was with great trepidation that the young prince lifted his face just enough to glance over at the altar.
He had expected destruction of some sort. He wouldn’t have been shocked to see the altar completely ripped in half by some magical strike, or perhaps a pile of steaming ashes and woodchips where the elaborate setup had once stood. He would have even accepted the light as a force in and of itself, a flash of warning from the Gods that his prayers, too, had been heard.
Instead, he found himself staring at a crumpled, unmoving human form curled up on its side at the foot of the altar.
Atem dared not move right away, instead allowing his eyes to take in as many details of the sudden figure deposited in his bedchamber as he was able. The young man - or so it appeared to be - was rather short and slender in build, his legs and chest covered in a dark, glistening material the likes of which Atem had never seen before. He could see outlines of dark spikes of hair sticking out from the stranger’s head, but all other characteristics were hidden by the shadows.
The two guards stationed outside his chambers burst through the doors with their spears held at the ready.
“My prince! Are you alright?” one demanded worriedly, while the other scanned the room for any active threats. “We saw -”
“Look!” the other guard growled, pointing at the unconscious being with the sharp end of his weapon. They wasted no time in surrounding the altar and placing their bodies in between their royal heir and the stranger who had yet to move an inch. “How did he get in here?”
“Wait!” Atem cried, pushing himself away from his bed and leaning against a nearby pillar for support. “Don’t hurt him! He came from the light!”
“He what?” The taller guard seemed more confused than afraid or angry, though Atem really couldn’t blame him. His comrade, seemingly the more daring (or simply the denser) of the two, moved forward to observe the stranger more carefully and quickly jumped back with a gasp.
“What is this?” he asked breathlessly. “He looks like…”
Atem fought back a flinch when both pairs of wide, fearful eyes turned on him. He swallowed down his own alarm and stalked up to where they stood as confidently as he was able, peeking around their arms to see what exactly troubled them so much.
It wasn’t too difficult to figure out.
The motionless stranger looked nearly identical to himself, only with pale white skin and slightly tamer hair.
More concerning, however, was the fact that his father’s Millennium Pendant stared up at them from a silver chain around the stranger’s neck.