Chapter Text
Deep underground, beneath the remaining ruins of Egypt, a secret city of immortal mummies thrived and prospered, existing undetected beneath the noses of prying archaeologists who were insistent on recovering ancient history about a culture and civilization lost to humanity. For many millennia, the city’s secret was safe, kept under careful watch and guard, guaranteeing a life of eternity for all who inhabited it.
But that all changed the day a famous archeologist known by the name of Sylvester Carnaby discovered and broke into Thut’s tomb, stealing a precious artifact that the mummy was supposed to be safeguarding with his life.
Hathor’s ring.
It was Thut’s horror to discover it missing—and stolen, nonetheless. Not only had no archeologist ever dug deep enough to reach their secret haven before, but they’d taken the one thing Thut couldn’t afford to lose. The royal wedding ring had been entrusted to him with the impending understanding that if he didn’t return it to the Pharaoh within seven days, his eyes would be scooped out of their sockets and his tongue would be cut from his mouth. So, it only made sense for Thut to do the unthinkable—the one thing he had sworn he would never do. He had no choice but to follow the thief up into the living world and track down the ring.
He expected it to be dangerous. He even considered the possibility of never returning. What he hadn’t expected was that to be the beginning of how Sylvester Carnaby would discover their world and ultimately meet his end.
A week had already passed since Carnaby’s tragic death when he fell into the most bottomless desert cavern of their city’s outskirts. Thut and Nefer had been wed shortly after as if the horror hadn’t happened. The repairs of the city were already on their way, starting with Thut’s disrupted tomb.
Preferably, he would’ve set aside plans to repair his tomb for a bit longer if only to enjoy his honeymoon with his new wife, but upholding the title of a princess came with a lot of responsibilities that Nefer was obligated to put first before him—which meant that she was off attending to every problem imaginable that had been caused by Carnaby’s carnage and he… hadn’t seen much of her since their wedding reception.
So he was here… in his tomb, holding broken pieces of pottery in his hands as if holding onto them any longer would magically put them back together—as if these things were even remotely important. But… maybe to him, they were. Maybe he was disappointed that his tomb had been desecrated. He had every right to be, didn’t he? These things were a reminder of his past, a reminder of what he had accomplished when he was living, and some of those things were still back in England, displayed behind glass amongst Carnaby’s historical ‘prize exhibit’ as the man had called it—items Thut wouldn’t be able to get back.
“Don’t worry, big brother,” Sekhem tried to reassure him amidst the destruction, and even his pet crocodile, Croc, came over to nuzzle Thut’s leg. “You overcame your fear, so now you can win more trophies!”
He understood his brother was only trying to be encouraging, but some of what was broken or stolen wasn’t just his trophies. It couldn’t all be regained from another race. Some of his possessions had been things from their parents, the only relics he had left, really, from a pair of mummies Sekhem never got to meet.
He forced a smile for his brother and discarded the pieces of pottery into a pile of what they’d agreed was non-salvageable. The hole that had been dug from the world above had already been filled and reinforced, and Thut had taken it upon himself to push a piece of furniture in front of the patched hole to hide the reminder of it even being there in the first place. He spent the rest of the day straightening as much as he could of his remaining belongings, mostly in silence, not counting his little brother’s giggling and Croc’s raspy squawks as they chased each other back and forth throughout his tomb, or when Sekhem offered his sporadic and not-so-helpful assistance with the condition that Thut had to listen to his brother talk nonstop.
Time seemed to work in Thut’s favor, though, when the sun set shortly and the night sky re-emerged, sparkling with numerous artificial stars. With his torch already lit, Thut was tempted to send Sekhem back to the palace and stay overnight alone so that he could finish the clean-up his tomb so desperately needed.
But… he knew Nefer would be expecting him.
So, he grudgingly sealed his tomb behind him and made the trek across the desert with Sekhem back to the city.
Despite the night having already set upon them, the city was still bustling with repairs when they arrived. It seemed some mummies were working day and night to rebuild everything as it was. Several changes were being made, too, courtesy of Nefer, who had insisted before all of this had happened that the people needed some evolution. Initially, it had been Nefer desperate for an escape from the mediocre repetition eternity oftentimes granted, but it seemed others were starting to adapt to her idea of change as well and were implementing it in their lives in many ways as they could. It brought a small smile to Thut’s lips as he walked throughout the city and took in every bit of colorful transformation his wife had added to the lives of her people so far. She wasn’t even Pharaoh yet, and she was already making decisions that were revolutionizing their lives for the better. To say he was proud to be her husband was certainly an understatement.
As he sauntered up the lavish steps that led up to the palace entrance, Sekhem rushed past him with Croc right by his side, the two of them bolting up the stairs as if they were nothing. There was a noticeable drag in his step when Thut reached the top. Physically and mentally drained from all the chaos as of late was the explanation for his exhaustion, as well as his overall lack of sleep. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually rested soundly—and surprisingly, it wasn’t Nefer’s snoring that was keeping him wide awake, or the haunting nightmares of his charioteering accident that used to plague him regularly.
It was just the fact that even if they were safe now, they weren’t guaranteed to be safe tomorrow.
Thut wasn’t an idiot. He knew there were plenty of humans just like Sylvester Carnaby who lurked above, some possibly worse and more insistent than what they’d faced. He knew humans would never lose their curiosity. He knew someone would always find something unknown, and then someone else would find the next piece to a puzzle they weren’t meant to solve. The cycle would never end.
What scared him most was that no matter how many times he begged Ra for their safety, their future would still be uncertain and entirely out of his control.
He forced his brimming misery into the pit of his stomach as he entered the throne room, unwilling to rub off how he felt on his wife. He found Nefer leaning over a wooden desk with her father at her side, the two of them going over some remaining blueprints for finalized repairs throughout the city. She glanced up at the sound of Sekhem’s rushed footsteps and loud giggling, and her face instantly brightened the second she caught sight of her husband.
“Thut!” Her smile reached her eyes as she moved around the table, approaching him with outstretched arms. He forced himself to match her smile and extended his arms, even with the torch still in his hand, and welcomed her excited embrace.
“Hello, Nefer,” he whispered against her hair, the tension in his shoulders already dissipating from her touch alone.
Croc crawled in between their legs, squawking up at them expectantly. Nefer only pulled away from him just enough to smile down at the little crocodile.
“And hello to you, too, Croc,” Nefer chuckled fondly.
Thut held onto his wife tightly for just a bit longer, just long enough to soak in her warmth before having to let her go just as quickly.
“Will you be joining me tonight?” He asked as he parted from her at arm’s length, a hint of desperate hopefulness laced in his words as his free hand slowly slid down to grasp her arm affectionately.
Nefer’s smile fell slightly, and that was answer enough. His grip around her arm slipped before his smile did, and he tried—and failed—not to let his dejected disappointment show on his face. “Sorry, I—never mind. You’re clearly busy, so—”
“I’m sorry, Thut,” Nefer cut him off with a sad, apologetic smile. “As much as I wish I could solely focus on us, Father insists that I attend to seeing the city’s repairs… and apparently the plans for newer defenses. We can’t afford to have anyone else find our city.”
“Of course,” Thut’s smile was tight despite his genuine agreement. There was no doubt in his mind that their safety and keeping their existence a secret was a priority… but… shouldn’t their marriage be a priority also? To say he wasn’t disappointed that they couldn’t at least spend their nights together alone to enjoy the bliss of being newlyweds would be a lie. Beyond these brief moments, he rarely saw Nefer. Her attention was always elsewhere, reasonably so, since no one could have anticipated livings to infiltrate their city. He wanted to believe this was all just the result of bad timing, that this just had to happen right before their engagement. But, well…
Despite his charisma and popularity, Thut was a bit insecure. Palace life was nothing compared to the racing life. It had only been a week since they’d been wed, so of course, adjusting here would take its time, but a part of him wondered if he ever would; if he really was her right match.
Nefer’s smile turned tense as it matched his, as if she could somehow sense what he was thinking. She leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek, and his eyes fluttered closed. “We will have plenty of time for us,” she murmured against his skin. “All of eternity, remember?”
He nodded against her shoulder, and when she pulled back, he smiled softly, hoping that his expression radiated his appreciation for her assurances rather than the uneasiness her words added to his already uncertain heart. If this was the result of being wed to the princess and future pharaoh of Egypt, then he supposed he would pay that price, but all of eternity was no longer certain. When Carnaby had fallen to his death, he’d almost taken Thut with him. That in itself had proven just how much was at stake—just how much Thut had to lose. He could only hope that their efforts to reinforce their city’s defenses would be enough to protect them.
Hopefully, nothing above would follow Carnaby’s footsteps before they could finish their efforts.
The Carnaby Museum, a historic institution in British society, had been a goldmine in Sylevester’s hands when it was passed down to him by his father. However, like most children who inherited their parents’ wealth too early, Sylvester squandered it until all that was left was an irrelevant building with even less interesting exhibits.
The Egyptian exhibit, though—something about it pulled a smirk out of Alistar Carnaby. It wasn’t just an ordinary exhibit. Many of the relics were personal, too pristine to have been unearthed from beneath the sand after being lost for millennia. He wasn’t a sucker for history or a digger like his cousin had been, but Alistar could recognize his treasures. There was still potential here, and money to be made.
“The museum is being sold,” Mrs. Carnaby said when he’d come to request she reconsider. She sat miserably at a desk that held many memories, close to the waning of old age. “Just like his father, my son was too invested in this place, and it consumed him. I no longer want any part of it.”
“Then sell it to me,” Alistar insisted.
“What for?” She raised a quizzical brow at him. “You’ve never been interested in preserving history.”
Chuckling, he leaned his palms against the all-wooden desk she sat at—a desk he intended to make his own. “Maybe so, but I’ve always been interested in investments.”
“There is no investment to be made here,” Mrs. Carnaby scoffed incredulously, “You will lose more money attempting to keep this place open than you will betting at the derby.”
“My dear aunt,” Alistar grinned. “For a woman as intelligent as yourself, I am greatly disappointed that you do not see the potential I see.”
Raising a singular, unconvinced brow at him, she leant back in her seat. “And what potential would that be?”
Alistar pushed himself off the desk, still grinning, and folded his arms behind his back. “My cousin, although annoyingly committed to discovering and preserving history, had another angle up his sleeve similar to mine: fame. He was always looking for the next big discovery to raise this place from the dust.”
“And look where that got him,” Mrs. Carnaby muttered.
“I believe he was onto something,” Alistar continued as he slowly paced back and forth across the room. “Have you recently visited the Egyptian exhibit? Shortly before my cousin vanished, he’d claimed to have discovered something big. He was going to unveil it shortly before he disappeared. A glass room with severed chains on the floor is what remains.”
Mrs. Carnaby straightened apprehensively, the tension in her body language extremely clear. “And what of it?”
“Oh, come now,” Alistar practically purred. “What is the purpose of having such a large display accompanied by chains? What were the chains meant to hold? A stuffed Sphinx?”
Her shaken silence spoke volumes, and when she swallowed, it only confirmed his suspicion. Many had thought his cousin crazy for his obsession with the Egyptian mummies, even more so for his theory that they existed beyond bone and dust in their tombs, but rather, whole and alive, in an ancient underground city.
“Sylvester wasn’t in his right mind,” Mrs. Carnaby nervously straightened her collar. “He—he thought a lot of things. Claimed even more things that were beyond insanity. Had he been rooted in reality, maybe he would still be alive.”
“Maybe he is.”
The spike of fear that rose in her shoulders could not be missed, nor could the fury within her irises. “Do not attempt to reignite my hope that my son may still be alive—”
“He very well could be. His body was never found.”
“Because one of those damned tombs collapsed and crushed him!”
At least that’s what everyone believed, but Alistar could not be convinced. Straightening his tie, he cleared his throat, neutral to his aunt’s emotional outburst. “You’ve read my cousin’s journal, haven’t you? His words, as bizarre as they seem, do not sound like the words of a raging lunatic. What if he was right? What if he found the city? What if he did find something alive?”
Mrs. Carnaby shook her head silently, but even she could not object with words. A part of her still hoped—Alistar could see it. She wanted answers—true, solid-proof answers of her son’s fate, whether that meant dead or alive. Any mother would.
“If my cousin did find something ancient and alive, it would be worth a fortune,” Alistar grinned from ear to ear.
“That is all you care about,” Mrs. Carnaby scoffed. “Not my son. Not your blood.”
Sighing in mocked reverence, Alistar straightened, attempting every method in the book to suppress his impatience. “Where was Sylvester’s care for his blood when he flew to Egypt and left you here to mourn over your husband’s death alone?”
Mrs. Carnaby inhaled sharply, but his words, however piercing, were the truth. Sylvester had been just as selfish, if not more so. Not only had he taken his father’s wealth and suffocated it, but he’d allowed his father to watch him do so. Perhaps that was why Lord Carnaby, Sr. had perished. Perhaps, despite their crumbling father-son relationship, it was why Mrs. Carnaby had placed their headstones side-by-side. Ever since Alistar was a child, he could remember his aunt’s desperate attempts to keep her family together despite their eagerness to be far apart. The Carnaby name was upheld, respected, and well-known for a reason. It hadn’t earned that pedestal by practicing selflessness.
Pulling out his checkbook from his suit pocket, Alistar flipped it open. “I can write all kinds of numbers on here,” he said with a grin as he clicked his pen, the tip hovering just inches above the line. “What will it be?”
Mrs. Carnaby defiantly lifted her chin. “You could not hope to bribe me with numbers.”
Alistar snapped his checkbook closed, his grin morphing into a scowl, and his patience dwindling. “What is it to you if the museum becomes mine? You said it yourself that you want nothing more to do with it. Let me take it off your hands.”
“And what good would that do?” The lines around his aunt’s eyes crinkled as she laughed at him, like he was a mockery, as if she thought this whole ordeal to be a joke. “My name would still be tied to this place if I sold it to you. I want to be severed from it entirely—name and all.”
Alistar gritted his teeth. “You will sell it to me; otherwise, I will explore other avenues to acquire this place—legal avenues.”
The smile on his aunt’s lips fell in a matter of seconds as realization horrifically struck her. Smirking, he braced his palms against the desk again, purposely leaning forward into her space. “I am the man here, therefore the next rightful Carnaby in line for any inheritance. Unless you’d like to speak with my lawyer, you cannot deny me this.”
His aunt was quiet for some time while she pondered his words. Grinning, he leaned back and retrieved his checkbook from his suit once more, pen clicking as he awaited her inevitable response.
After a tense moment of silence, she glanced up at him over the rim of her glasses. “Very well. I will sell it to you. But only under one condition.”
He chuckled. “Name your condition.”
“You will inform me if your expedition leads you to find my son,” she demanded coldly, “But if you happen to discover something… unimaginable in those tombs, say, something bizarre like a live mummy, I want no part of it. Understood?”
“You have my word, Auntie,” Alistar grinned.
Effortlessly signing the check with pristine penmanship, he ripped it from the book and slid it across the desk with three fingers. Mrs. Carnaby picked it up, her eyes scanning over the numbers with underlying uncertainty swirling in her irises—and yet, she still tucked the check into her purse, met his gaze almost guiltily, and swallowed, almost as if she already regretted her decision.
With an all-knowing grin, he dramatically bowed before making his exit. He felt no regret, and neither would he have any issues with his aunt’s one condition.
He hadn’t planned to share, anyway.