Chapter Text
There were no shortages of responsibilities to being the Pharaoh. By the time he was seven, Atem was familiar with the weight of expectations draped across his thin little shoulders.
He knew he was to be all to his people, and unlike many of his predecessors, the thought did not fill him with hubris, but reverence. He had a sacred duty to care for his people, to uphold Ma'at and continue their way of life as prosperously as he could.
He threw himself into his lessons dutifully. He mastered combat early, the forms coming easily to him as a bird taking wing. He had a tactician's mind and by age ten he could easily out maneuver most of his father's best generals, as was expected of the young Horus.
He mastered magic earlier even than his father had as well, the art coming even more naturally to him than combat. He inhaled every spell he could learn, memorizing rituals by the dozens, and sitting in with the priests any chance he had.
There was only one other student who could come close to Atem's level of skill, much less his enthusiasm. Mahaad, a boy who'd been recruited by the priests when he'd accidentally summoned a beast to defend his sister from a pack of bandits.
He'd been able to call and sustain the creature long enough to ensure their safety before falling into a two day long sleep, awakening in the palace to Atem's assurance that his sister would be well provided for, should Mahaad choose to accept their offer to study to become a priest.
Mahaad had, and despite the difference in social standing, the two became fast friends. Atem's first outside of his family and the residents of the palace.
The morning Atem got word that he was now to try summoning creatures of his own, he'd run straight to Mahaad's room to chatter the news to him.
As ever, Mahaad was awake when he arrived. The boy seemed to rise as Ra did, never one to lie in bed when there was still yet more to learn and to do.
"Mahaad!" Atem had cheerfully exclaimed, "Today is the day!"
Mahaad greeted him with a bow, a fist over his heart, though the smile he wore implied more familiarity than he would have allowed outside of his own room.
"What day is it, my Prince?" He asked, his tone suggesting he already knew what Atem would say.
"Today I'm to call my first creature!" Atem happily replied anyway, so full of mirth he couldn't resist, "I wonder what it is my soul will call to it."
"No doubt something truly extraordinary." Mahaad replied. The compliment was appropriate for Atem's station but the fondness that accompanied it made it seem much more genuine.
Atem turned to him and smiled, appreciating Mahaad's steady kindness now as much as he ever did. He wished he could show him, but touching was forbidden between their two castes, so he had to make due with the brightest smile he could give the man.
"Thank you for your faith in me, Mahaad. As ever, I truly appreciate it."
He bowed his head again, "It's my privilege, my Prince."
With a sweeping gesture, Mahaad gesticulated to the door.
"Shall we?"
"Yes." Atem nodded firmly, leading the way to the court yard where the ritual was to be performed.
Atem was familiar enough with the process, had seen a few initiates attempt it already with limited success. The idea was to let their ba act as guide and conduit for the creature they would summon. For a first time, it was likely they'd only be able to sustain the creature for a few moments to possibly a minute. But the exercise was not about longevity, but rather to see the caliber of creature their soul had to potential to summon and host. The greater the soul, the stronger the creature.
Atem knew he was expected to produce a strong creature, and while he was a little nervous, he also loved a challenge. Proving his worth to his people brought Atem a type of satisfaction that all his training had still yet to put a name to.
He took one last glance at Mahaad who gave him another encouraging smile before he stepped into the courtyard.
The priests outlined the ritual and its various steps though Atem paid them little mind. He knew the ritual inside and out, he hardly needed a guide.
When the scent cones were all lit, Atem let his mind ease away from the forefront of his being, instead letting his soul bloom. He breathed slow and deep, allowing his connection to the Duat to strengthen with each inch he sunk into it's depths.
He felt a tug only moments later.
He plucked the string of energy that tied his soul to the creature that had answered his summons. He nearly lost focus at the looming enormity of the creature he could sense on the other side.
He couldn't allow himself to think on it, or he'd botch the ritual, so instead he inhaled, exhaled, and pulled.
He heard gasps behind him as the creature breached the Duat, only just then daring to open his eyes to see what he'd summoned.
The creature looked like the outer carvings of a sarcophagus had fused with the khet buried within it. It was grotesque and absolutely enormous. It's eyes, set deep in their sunken sockets glowed red as rubies as they regarded Atem with... curiosity?
It raised one shackled arm, reaching out to Atem as he stared up at it in a daze.
Before Atem could think to respond, he was being pulled away as half a dozen priests shuffled between him and his creature. He tried to protest, but they had already dispelled the summoning ritual before he could quite call words up past the haze in his mind.
It wasn't until the creature slid back into the Duat that Atem felt the strain of supporting such a thing crash into him.
He sagged against the priest that had dragged him away, clinging to consciousness by the barest thread.
"Mahaad!" The priest called, "Please take the Prince back to his quarters. He needs rest, and sustenance. We will send a servant with food, do not let him out of your sight."
"Yes Master." Mahaad replied dutifully.
Atem had just enough time to wonder how he'd get back to his room, before the darkness that had been swimming on the outer edges of his sight swallowed him up.
When Atem woke, it was long after Ra had undertaken his nightly voyage. He startled a bit at hearing a soft snore from beside him before his eyes adjusted well enough to make out the vague shape of Mahaad asleep against the wall beside his bed. Fondness washed over him in the wake of the older boy's loyalty.
He shifted in his sheets and Mahaad's eyes opened almost immediately after. At finding Atem awake, he was sitting up to greet him almost immediately.
"My Prince!" Mahaad cried softly enough to not disturb anyone else who may be sleeping nearby, "How are you feeling?"
Atem considered himself for a moment. He felt...drained. His mouth was dry and he felt as though he'd trained from dawn to dusk without rest or food.
"Horrible." He summarized.
Mahaad smiled apologetically and stood to grab a few items Atem couldn't see. He returned quickly enough with a bowl of roast duck stew, a fluffy hunk of bread that had Atem's mouth watering, and a cup of honey mead.
"I apologize, it's gone cold, but we'd hoped you'd wake hours ago."
Atem waved off the apology as he dug into the food with as much dignity as he could stand to retain with how his stomach was wailing.
"No need to be formal on my account." Mahaad said softly, facing away from Atem, "I'm sure you're half starved."
Atem appreciated the kindness and didn't let it go to waste, tearing through his meal like a wild beast.
While he ate, Mahaad informed him of what had happened from his perspective. It seemed Atem had called no ordinary creature to him, but one long thought to be a legend from the world the creatures hailed from.
The priests who were able to commune with the creatures had heard the name 'The Forbidden One' passed around in fearful whispers when they described the beast Atem had summoned. They weren't able to glean why he was forbidden, only that his coming often told of a great tragedy to come.
Atem swallowed the last bite of his meal a little harder than intended as he and Mahaad made eye contact.
"A great tragedy..?" Atem whispered, "Has father heard?"
Mahaad nodded, "Yes. Though he left shortly after. I don't know what he intends to do with this information."
"I trust father's judgment, and his wisdom has seen us through many a hard time...but nonetheless I will pray for the Gods to guide us." Atem placed his hand over his heart, bowing his head as he spoke.
"Indeed." Mahaad echoed.
Years passed and Atem all but forgot the incident as his training continued forward and his duties as Prince slowly increased until he had little time to so much as breathe. He kept pace by setting aside things like idle worries and friendships and hobbies. His people did not need him to indulge in games, they needed him to secure trade routes with their foreign neighbors.
Atem spent nearly all of his time involved in governing, learning from his father but also stepping in to apply his own knowledge where he could. When he wasn't in the throne room, he was at a temple, speaking to the Gods, even if they rarely answered him. It was the closest thing to respite he could find.
That was where he was when the sound of shouting jarred him from the meditative trance he'd lulled himself into.
Atem was on his feet and racing toward the sound before he had fully shaken off the dizziness of coming to so quickly.
It was a few hours after dusk, and there would be little reason for anyone to be making so much noise outside of an emergency.
Atem noticed a small crowd as he got closer to the commotion which had changed from shouting now to wailing. The crowd parted for him with looks of mixed pity and sorrow that he didn't understand until he saw what they were gathered around.
His father laid motionless on the ground, his earthen skin stricken pale and his dark eyes glazed over with death's stillness.
For a moment nothing registered but confusion. He'd just seen his father earlier that day and he had been fine. Next came the crushing anguish of a lost loved one.
He fell to his knees beside him and cradled his body close, allowing himself the moment to weep.
Atem didn't let go until a familiar pair of arms wrapped around his waist and hoisted him to his feet.
"Atem." Came the cold, strict tone of his cousin Seti, "Regain your composure, there are people watching."
Though the delivery was sharp, Atem could hear the grief in Seti's own voice as well. He wasn't saying this to be cruel, he was trying to help Atem retain his image of a stable, confident leader.
Atem breathed out, the pain in his chest making him feel as though the action emptied him out to his core. He viciously harnessed the sadness and fear roiling in his belly, and forced himself to think.
He looked up at Seti who was staring expectantly back at him.
"Father was well this morning, and he has not complained of any illnesses of late. I would like you to see what he ate for his last meal." Atem's voice was still rough with caged grief, but he sounded more himself.
"That's better. I will see it done immediately, my Pharaoh."
Atem nearly lost his control at being addressed by the title, but managed to keep it just long enough to say,
"Tonight there is no Pharoh. Tonight we mourn, and allow chaos it's due. Tomorrow I will be your Pharaoh."
With that he strode from the room, mentally making a list of what he would need to do as soon as Ra entered the sky.
Atem's tragic destiny it seemed couldn't be bothered to wait even that long, for no sooner had he assumed the throne than had his Uncle brought him news of a foreign invasion headed their way.
"They out number us five to one and they come with bows and horses, my Pharaoh." His Uncle had explained, "I've heard a man walks with them who neither light nor bronze can touch."
Atem's brow furrowed, "What do we know of this man beyond legend and hearsay?"
Seti stepped up to speak next, "He wields magic, my Pharaoh. Like none we've seen. He is able to open portals to other realms and summon multiple creatures at once without the strain killing him."
Atem's jaw strained.
"But," His Uncle said, stepping back into the conversation again, "We have found a method that may allow us to stand against such might."
"What method?" Atem narrowed his eyes.
His uncle gestured to a servant behind him who brought forward an open case with seven golden items laid into it. Atem could feel their energy from where he sat, and sat a little farther forward.
"These seven items hold the power of the Gods inside of them. Each can enhance the natural magical abilities of it's user by a hundred fold." His Uncle explained, "Each requires a certain trial be undertaken and succeeded before it will grant it's user access to it's power, but most of the items have already found their masters."
Atem had many questions, but for the moment he only voiced one.
"Which are without masters?"
"Only the pendant." His Uncle gestured to the pyramid shaped necklace in the center of the case, "It is the heart of these items, and I thought it fitting if you were to be given the opportunity to gain mastery of it."
Atem focused his attention on the pendant, both magical and physical. He noticed it looked like a series of pieces interlocking to make up the pendant's design, something that couldn't have been done on short notice. He also felt an echoing, cold, emptiness from it that felt...familiar to him. It was similar to how he'd felt since his father had died.
Atem stood and walked up to the servant holding the items and plucked the pendant from it's place in the case. As soon as he touched the surface of the object he felt himself be pulled down into the darkness inside of it.
It felt like the yawning abyss of Apophis's belly had dragged him down into it. There was no light, no sound, nothing. He could barely keep straight where he began and the darkness ended.
Had he been less familiar with magic, he more than likely would have dissipated into the darkness. Instead he focused on himself, all the pieces and parts of his soul he'd ever mapped out in his exploration both of himself and his craft, until he felt stable again.
He didn't get long to appreciate his little victory before he was spat back out into the throne room.
He'd nearly forgotten what he had been doing. That moment had felt as if an age, and an instant all at the same time.
A hand clapped him gently on the back, bringing him the rest of the way back down to his body.
"Well done, Atem." His uncle said from beside him, "The pendant is yours."
It was then that Atem noticed the pendant already hanging around his neck.
He wanted to thank his Uncle, or at the very least ask what just happened to him, but there were more important matters to see to.
"How long do we have before the enemy arrives?"
His uncle frowned, "Two days."
Atem nodded sharply and turned on his heel to head to the war room.
"Are you coming?"
As Atem laid bleeding, betrayed and desperate, he couldn't help but think this was his fault. If he'd listened to his instincts, or maybe if he'd been less naive, maybe he could have stopped all this before it got so far.
The burnt out ruins of Kul-Elna stared accusingly at him from beyond the dune he'd collapsed on top of.
Ninety-nine people. Ninety-nine of his people had been sacrificed to blind, horrific ambition. The only survivor had tried to kill him, and rightfully so, when Atem had come to investigate the smoke he'd seen on the horizon.
He could handle the Thief King, but his Uncle's blade biting into his side had been unexpected.
He should have known somehow, he should have suspected. But he didn't, and now he was here, bleeding, horseless, and likely to die while a monster headed to claim his city.
"Lord...Osiris..." He wheezed out, "I will likely...join you...soon... but please...I must speak...with lady....Sekhmet..."
For moments there was nothing but silence and the wet sound of Atem's breathing. He feared it wouldn't work, the Gods didn't often answer him. But this seemed too large a matter to simply be ignored.
I am not lightly called upon, Godling. Even the Others fear me, yet you would invoke my name freely?
"Yes..." He wheezed, "Please... lend me your strength....so that I might....return to my....city....and stop....the enemy....coming...."
A noble endeavor worthy of my gift. Bring me the blood of those who would cross you.
Atem felt the wound on his side mend itself, and a surge of vicious energy filled him from the soles of his feet up to the crest of his head.
Go my cub, seek vengeance for the blood spilled this night.
Atem crawled to his feet, each breath he took rattling out of his body with a fury akin to a growl as he searched for some way to get to the city quickly. Luck was on his side and an escaped horse was nearby. It was unsaddled but that was no great issue.
Atem made it into the city faster than he could ever remember having made the trip, and upon hearing the sounds of screaming greet him he was flying off of his horse and racing into the streets.
He darted along the shadows, only leaving them to cut down the enemy soldiers that he found along his way. By the time he stood outside the walls of his palace, his hair was stained red with all the blood he'd spilled. Sekhmet purred with vicious satisfaction in his chest.
The door was barred but Atem refused to be stopped by something so petty. He cut a quick spell into the wood and it turned to ash under his hands.
Atem was all but certain of where his Uncle would be, there was really only one place he could be given the circumstances. As disgusted as Atem was, at least it made things easier.
Upon sneaking his way to the throne room, Atem found his suspicions confirmed.
His Uncle and the Thief King were both in the center of the room. It took him a moment to discern what they were doing, but as soon as he did his heart dropped and rage like he'd never known filled his body.
Between them lay the bodies of several of Atem's closest court members. Those he would consider as close to friends as he could get. Mana, Mahaad, Sahmut, and Ati to name a few, though it looked like there were a half dozen more.
If that weren't enough, it looked as though they weren't going to be given their proper burial rites. Instead their spirits were locked inside of a ritual circle that Atem couldn't make heads or tails of from where he stood, even if he'd been in the frame of mind to do so.
Atem was moving forward before he could consider what his next move would be.
"Stop!" He shouted, his voice cracking through the air like a whip, all the presence and command behind it befitting of a Pharaoh, "You will cease this...desecration at once!"
"Oh?" The Thief King said in a voice that wasn't quite his, "And are you to stop us then, Godling?"
He laughed and Atem felt it scrape against every single one of his nerves. Without another word of warning he leapt toward the Thief King.
He parried Atem's strike with far more efficiency than he ought to have been able to, especially considering the blows Atem had dealt him earlier that evening.
Be on your guard, cub. He is not all he appears to be.
Atem had gathered that much, but the confirmation at least was good. He could assume the Thief King had done something similar to what Atem himself was doing. How? He had no idea, but that could wait until much later.
Rather than consciously planning out his moves, Atem fell back onto muscle memory. By now fighting was second nature to him, and he didn’t need to focus fully on what he was doing. Which was good, because there was much more going on around them.
His Uncle was still inside of the ritual circle, still working dark magic which chilled his soul even from here. He couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing, but Atem could sense a weakness in the room that wasn’t normally present. As if some part of the area were thinning.
The Thief King’s blade nearly bit into Atem’s shoulder, only to be deflected at the last moment.
There was no way he was going to be able to stop his Uncle and defeat the Thief King in time to stop whatever was going on. He could not be two places at once, and he was already strained enough as it was maintaining his connection to Sekhmet.
Frustration akin to rage swept through him at his own helplessness.
He slashed at the Thief King, the arc made a little sloppy by desperation. It was blocked in short order, and the Thief King ducked inside his guard, a dagger sliding from his sleeve.
Atem had just enough time to be shocked before the blade was biting into his abdomen.
“Game over, boy king.” The Thief King snarled, his lips twisting up into a wicked smile as his blade twisted inside of Atem’s belly.
The Pharaoh grunted with pain but refused to fall. The pain was blinding but he had a purpose and he refused to be stopped before he’d achieved it.
Moving faster than he would have thought himself capable of, Atem spun his blade and sunk it right into the Thief King’s spine.
His expression went from smug to shocked in seconds, which would have been satisfying any other time. As he crumpled to the floor, he took his knife with him, leaving Atem clutching a bleeding wound.
I can sustain you a bit longer, but I cannot hold off Anubis a second time. I fear you are not long for this world, my cub.
Atem knew, he could feel it. But he didn’t care, he couldn’t, he still had a job to do.
“A few minutes is all I need.” He grunted, allowing himself to drop to his knees.
He took one of his hands from his bleeding wound and began working on a spell, using his own blood for the ink.
The room had grown much colder and much darker. The only light now came from the circle that his Uncle stood within. It was an eerie white-blue light that barely touched the shadows of the room, shadows that were so deep it seemed as if bits of the night sky had dripped into the corners of the room.
Atem tried not to focus on it, he’d never been fond of the dark, instead pulling his focus inward to his own soul.
The light of it was fading, and quickly. His vision was blurring as he tried to make his hands move, but more and more he felt himself slipping away. He wanted to curse but his tongue was as lead in his mouth. He slumped forward as he went to draw the next rune, just barely catching himself though his arm quickly gave out.
It is time, young one.
No! It couldn’t be! He hadn’t finished his spell, the danger was still here! He couldn’t just die like this, he couldn’t abandon his people to untold suffering. He couldn’t fail them any more than he already had!
Atem struggled to push himself back up, but his body had nothing more to give.
Tears pooled in his eyes as he could swear he saw the black, clawed feet of Anubis walking toward him.
No…he couldn’t let it end like this.
Atem’s eyes flew open as something sparked to life in his chest.
It felt like a star had woken within his soul, one singular point of burning light so intense it pushed back the chill in his body, in the room. Distantly he could feel Sekhmet’s shock, but he didn’t have time to address it.
Once again, he tried to push himself back up, but this time his shaking arms held him.
Atem didn’t waste a single moment. He finished his spell, a horrible, twisted thing that no sane person would so much as look at nevermind try to cast. But he was desperate and there was nothing he had left to give.
The shadows in the room had started to move, as if an entity of their own. When he’d finished his spell they turned to him, turning his Uncle like a puppet to face him as well. The man stared him down with glassy, unseeing eyes.
“What have you done?!” A voice that was neither his Uncle’s nor any God he’d ever heard growled at him.
Atem didn’t bother answering as his spell sunk into the ground around him, lighting him up with the golden glow of Ra. His offering had been accepted.
The golden puzzle around his neck floated up and off of him, throwing rays of light across the room as if it too had been touched by Ra’s light. Each beam that touched him made Atem feel as though he were standing in the square at mid day, so hot it burned. The shadows wailed, trembling and writhing as if trying to escape, but there was nowhere to go.
As the first bit of him was ripped away, though the pain was far worse than the stab wound currently sapping his life from him, Atem felt at peace. He had faith in very little at this point, but he knew his own magic was as close to absolute as a mortal could possibly get.
My cub. Sekhmet’s mournful voice purred to him, You know that this will not kill you, but erase you forever..?
I do. He thought back to her, his voice already having been stolen by involuntary screaming as he was torn apart. But it was all I could think to do to stop this evil permanently.
The puzzle began drawing the shadows inside of it, and the eye imbedded in his Uncle’s socket tore itself away from him, joining the puzzle in it’s place hovering in the air. Soon the Ring, the Rod, and the Scales joined it.
You may not be remembered in this world, but I will keep your memory close, young one. You have a lion’s heart.
It was a small comfort, but a comfort none the less and as Atem began to feel less and less like himself, he held onto it for all that he could.
Thank you, my Goddess.
You are welcome, my cub. I cannot stay much longer, but should you ever return, I will happily lend you my strength again.
The Necklace and the Key seemed to appear out of nowhere along with the rest of the items now floating in the air. The light they exuded was blinding at this point. The whole room was awash with it, and the shadows, what little hadn’t already been pulled into the puzzle, tried to diminish it by enveloping the Ring and the Eye. To very little avail.
The Pharaoh tried to think back a response to the Goddess, but he couldn’t quite recall who he was talking to, nor what they had been speaking of. The pain was nearly gone, along with his physical body, and he couldn’t sense any presence nearby. Not that he knew how, now.
The last thing he was aware of was a vague sense of peace, the satisfaction of a job well done.
Then there was only the darkness.