#ahk

anyways love your work your so so talented kk bye

wait thank you for reminding me this is a multifandom blog 🧘‍♀️ LIHAKU I’M LISTENING 🧏‍♀️

Tw: flashbacks of death involving stabbing

This is my first time writing an angsty piece! But I felt like the fandom needed to know what really went down between them - so I hope y'all enjoy my take on Ahk's trauma, flashbacks, and how he died! BTW: I take requests!

Ahkmenrah often did not discuss the angsty details of his previous life. That was something he kept to himself, deep in the vaults of his mind. Often, patrons would notice him staring into space or seemingly lost in a memory, but little would be said about it. That is, until you become involved in his life.

In the early hours of dawn, his true terrors would come to face him once more as he starts to decay and experience his death once more. Centuries of reliving a death that was so unexplained, just knowing he was stabbed, many times, broke some bones, and died alone, only to be discovered later by his family and promptly mummified. Of course, he didn't tell you this; you came to piece it together yourself after noticing all the wounds that would accumulate on his body and the way his stare would blank right before he screamed and cried. Similar to night terrors, he seemed to get flashes of memories with great pain and significance. You so badly wanted to help him through it, but weren't sure how. This night, however, was different than others; he was stuck in a trance, staring intensely at a clay pot in a case in front of him, unaware of the world around him.

(Flashback begins)

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The night is still, and the moon glows incandescently, shining its proud full moon rays upon Ahkmenrah. It is one of those humid nights where the warmth of the day has not truly left. He stands on a balcony, overlooking the Nile and the settlements along it. Still wearing his newly bestowed Pschent (Crown) along with his new robes, he crosses his arms as he relives his long week.

He had recently taken his place as Pharaoh, much to the demise of his brother, Kahmunrah, who was older and felt it was his rightful place to have succeeded to the throne. They always had a complicated relationship, a rivalry beginning and ending with Kahmun, who made it his mission to show Ahk he was not, in fact, as special and important as mom and dad told him he was. In such a royal and influential family like theirs, he managed to make Ahk feel as though he didn't even deserve the light of the sun on his back.

To Ahkmenrah, nothing would ever change his brother. Not even the Gods could stop him when he went on one of his rampages or episodes. Alas, he still loved and cared for him. Given his brother's constant state of distress, his parents opted to train Ahk to become everything his brother had desired - the next Pharaoh, and to lead his dynasty with the support of his subjects and the Gods. Ahk was constantly dealing with the pressure of taking a place he didn't feel he belonged in. On top of his brother's antics, he felt like he was succumbing to the pressure, and it was only the beginning of it all. Ahk tried on many occasions to befriend his brother and show him they were not destined to be enemies; however, he was always pushed away and never entertained for very long. Still, he longed for a sense of camaraderie. A sense of normalcy in their very abnormal life.

To Kahmunrah, the day that Ahk finally admitted defeat would be the day that he would finally have it all - the riches, the respect, the love of their parents, and the throne. He grew up being told of all the fantastical things he would soon do, just to have it taken by an inferior, smug, know-it-all brat. Being thrown into a healing temple in an effort to cure his madness only made his resentment grow. Why was he sick? Why was everything being taken away from him? Why was he no longer important? Why was he hidden? His thoughts often raced in this manner, making it almost impossible to hear himself think. Over time, he let himself be taken by these thoughts and settled into a comfortable evil, no longer caring about the consequences and no longer willing to settle for less than what he felt he deserved. It was time to take back what was his, for once and for all.

Ahk takes a long, deep breath and focuses on the stars glowing in front of him and the entrancing glow of the moon. He yearned to hear the Gods speak back to him, to feel less alone, to feel less of a disappointment. Sure, he was doing what was needed of him, but he felt like such a fraud. There are soft footsteps behind him, and he focuses his senses on the faint change in energy that makes the air suddenly thick and his heart race. This doesn't feel like a normal night after all.

He braces himself for social contact and rolls his shoulders back, tilts his head back up, and takes another steadying breath. Quickly, he turns to face the darkness that encapsulates his chambers. It feels almost too quiet, and for a moment, it is welcome. A tall, shadowy figure approaches him, and the hairs on his neck stand up in anticipation.

"You, always the favorite," Kahmunrah's voice booms, in contrast to the Nile's calm ambiance. "You were given everything meant for me. What is it, brother, that makes you think you're better than me? That you insist on constantly overshadowing me, taking everything from me." He approaches without a moment to spare, causing Ahk to move back in confusion and fear towards the balcony in an effort to keep his distance. As Kamunrah closes the distance between them, under the light of the moon, it is revealed that he is holding a ceremonial dagger.

"Kahmunrah. H-How did you get here? Let's t-talk about this. This isn't- this isn't who you are. I don't think you want to hurt me-"

"You do not know who I am! Only I know. And tonight, Egypt will remember my name, not yours - you maggot!" His movements become erratic as he gets closer and closer, getting riled up by his own pent-up rage. There is an unsettling look in Kahmun's eyes, almost a hunger. He raises the dagger and runs straight into Ahk, who attempts to stop it by raising his hand, but is stabbed straight through his palm.

A look of betrayal glints in Ahk's eyes as he realizes what is being done to him. He tries to call for help, but is quickly silenced as blood begins to fill his lungs. Heaving for air, he gargles and chokes on the rising blood within him. Kahmunrah stabs him quickly and relentlessly in the abdomen, in the lungs - until Ahk's upper body is soaked in the dark, thick, pulsating liquid of life. Ahk's body grows weaker with each second, and he tries to reach for something, anything, to get his brother to stop. Alas, it is no use - his arm lifted in the air with nothing to grab. The strength to fight is almost completely diminished, and keeping his head up grows exhausting and difficult. With the force of a push, he is thrown off the balcony and lands harshly on the rough ground. The force makes his head throb like it's never done before, and the ringing in his ears replaces all other sound, save the roaring whoosh of his slowing heart. Everything is black.

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(Flashback ends)

He screams in pain, suddenly feeling his insides crumble. The suddenness of it all causes him to hold his chest and lean on the glass case of the clay pot artifact. The electric hum of the lights around him becomes disorienting; he does not know where he is. His breathing quickens, and he falls to his knees, crying uncontrollably. You rush over to him, in shock at the rate at which the scene unfolded.

"Ahk! Are you okay? Breathe- in and out- yeah, like that. I'm here, my love. Can you feel me holding you?" You frantically try to ground him back in reality, in your arms. His labored breaths slow as he tries to follow directions. He finally seems to notice you and faces you with the most broken look you've ever seen.

"I'm- I'm alive." He begins, seemingly in shock at that reality. "Though I am alive, it is merely temporary. I shall never escape this pain. I was just a pawn- that's all my life was worth- That's the legacy I am carrying-" His breathing grows ragged once more. It seems as though he is talking to himself. You gently run your fingers through his hair and take a deep breath, prompting him to do so as well.

"You are so much more than that. You're making your own legacy, a new one, whatever you want it to be. Right now. Every moment you spend with me. You are not your past, Ahk! He cannot hurt you anymore! Hear me when I say that. I am so, so sorry-" You smile passionately at him and give his forehead a chaste kiss. His arm reaches up to find your head, and he cups your face, and a small, sad smile forms on his face.

For a long moment, he says nothing - Finding comfort in the rhythmic beating of your heart and the museum ambiance. He finds his voice, though shaky and unsure.

"It pains me to say, I still hold love for him. I just want him to find peace. After everything he did- I can't see him as evil- he's just my brother. My wound. I carry it with me always."

His glossy eyes release a few more tears, and he finally has the strength to hold you back. You tighten your arms around him without hesitation, one hand resting carefully on the back of his head, cradling it.

"You don't have to carry this alone anymore," you whisper before kissing his head once more.

Ahkmenrah trembles softly at the weight of your words; he feels weak and unlike himself, yet he does not pull away. Instead, he leans closer into you, allowing your warmth to anchor him in the present moment.

Surrounding you, the museum continues on, as always, with the muffled echo of footsteps in the distance, the hum of electricity above you, and the comforting smell of old artifacts.

He loves to talk with you and hear you speak, but is oblivious to you liking him because his norms of showing that are different than yours

He feels the need to uphold a certain royal persona and be formal and proper, but feels safe enough to let loose with you

He doesn't remember the details of his death but knows it is gruesome and related to Kahmunrah, his brother

He has flashbacks of his old life seemingly randomly, and that makes him homesick for a land that no longer exists

When he really trusts you, he'll let you see him without his royal regalia and headdress and touch his soft, dark curls

He gives Gomez from the Addams family as a lover, like bro is DEVOTED and OBSESSED - he is very romantic and gentle with you, always touching you or kissing you in some way

He loves to play with your hair and put his head on top of yours, hold you from behind, and hold your hands when around others

He is protective of you, but not in a controlling way; he just never wants anyone to hurt your feelings or disrespect you, and sees it as his duty to prevent that

He's very intelligent and picks up on things quickly - dude is lowkey a savant or something he collects languages and facts like infinity stones and will find a way to interact with all his subjects no matter the language or culture or time barrier

He's very funny and sarcastic, but also has a dirty humor side he doesn't let out very much - the first time it happens, it catches you by surprise

He is not argumentative at all; in fact, he hates fighting and will do whatever is needed to prevent one

His type is someone who is his equal, who matches his sass, his diplomacy, and understands him as more than just a pharaoh (I think he's an equal opportunity man, and while bodies are enticing, the person attached to the body is more important)

He's surprisingly strong and has a lot of endurance for running, lifting, and other things

This is part two of the first fic I wrote! I am hoping to continue this story further with time and let them be all cute and give Ahk some love because he deserves it! As always lmk what you guys think!

After she had left that night, with a cheshire cat grin, Ahk was noticeably spaced out. Enough so that he had forgotten to ask for her name. This realization hit him like a punch to the gut when he began his wind-down ritual - holding his tablet in his hand up towards the ceiling and thanking the gods that he had lived another night. It dawned on him that he did not know much about this woman, not even if she would ever return as he hoped she would.

As Larry the nightguard began his final rounds, Ahk pushed these thoughts out of his head in favor of his pharoh-ly duties. Leaving his exhibit, he headed straight to Larry, in their usual spot near the information desk. He went through the checklist of exhibits with Larry, ensuring all were accounted for, and in the right spot, and with this piece of mind, he returned to his chambers (AKA his sarcophagus) and began to pull the wrappings tightly around his body. As time passed, the roll of cloth began to disappear onto his form, and his body became more achy and stiff. At last, he lay down in his sarcophagus and pulled the lid tightly shut - muttering a prayer in ancient Egyptian to guide his soul on its journey until the next night.

Each night started off the same - the eagerness to continue the story, the anticipation of her arrival, the mundane tasks of looking the part and saying the right thing in front of the museum patrons. The waiting was agonizing - knowing that some people never return, some promises are broken, some stories are left unwritten. Much like his own story, it was disappointing how it was cut so short and abruptly.

A week passes. The museum patrons come and go as if nothing has changed. Teddy and Larry roam the halls keeping people in check, the Huns patrol the perimeter and perform for guests, and the miniatures keep all eyes on them. People pass by him without stopping; in fact, some barely even glance at him. They just keep moving. Just enough for Ahkmenrah to once again be passed on. He remains tall, calm, and steady - he is not one to compete for attention, especially not as a king. It would be wrong to say it didn't hurt his feelings, though. He may not be fragile, but it is registered that he is not as exciting as some of the others on the floor. He defaults to formality and royal poise - If I am not being seen, I will not insist upon it. He steps aside and introduces his museum companions to the patrons with the fanfare they deserve. He does not speak when guests don't care to listen.

A few more days passed, and he once again grew accustomed to his place by the tablet, watching others interact. That was, until he spotted an individual in the crowd, parting people like the Red Sea, walking quickly, with purpose, on a mission. There is a slight, but unmistakable shift in his expression - a bright, small smile appears on his face, and he stands even taller. Quickly, he states, "...You returned. You may request an audience - though, I suspect you will not wait to be granted one." A light chuckle emerges from his lips.

This startles her, as she had her back to him, not yet aware of his location. "Yeah - sorry, I didn't want to disappear. I work weird hours." She rubs her hands together, nervously.

He walks a bit closer, under the guise of hearing her better, and lowers his head to match her line of vision better. He nods. "That would help explain your absence."

She smiles, eyes tired but glistening. She tucks a curl behind her ear, "I'm a nurse," she adds, offering context. "I do long shifts. Early mornings, sometimes even at night - it can be a lot." She gets a bit closer to him, closing the large gap between them.

He nods and looks her up and down, "You tend to the injured. That is a career of high honor and importance."

Her smile becomes bigger, "Well- thank you, I care for those who are sick, recovering from various illnesses and situations. I like it, but it can be difficult to transition back into this world when I'm done."

He considers her words carefully. "That must require patience and awareness. One must be resilient to overcome."

She stares into space for a moment. "Yeah. Most people just say that it 'sounds stressful' or that they would never be able to do it-"

He meets her gaze, "It does sound stressful- but you do not speak of it as a burden."

She smiles a bit wider. "Yeah, I guess I just don't see it that way. Everyone gets sick one way or another. If you live long enough, we will all become disabled. No one is truly immune in a way. I wouldn't want to make others feel like a burden for just needing something- especially if it's something I can give them."

There is a bit of silence, and she takes a deep breath and looks away. Her gold jewlery bobbing up and down with the movement of her chest. She opens her mouth, trying to speak, but doesn't have the right words. Her eyebrows furrow, and she tucks her hair behind her other ear. "I was hoping you'd still be here-" she blurts. She winces at her phrasing, "I mean- of course, you would be, but-" she gestures vaguely at him, shrugging her shoulders, "you know what I mean."

There is a hint of amusement in his expression. For once, the lack of a crowd around him is a safety blanket. He doesn't feel trapped in his regal persona. "I believe I do. I found myself...anticipating your presence." He turns slightly, facing towards his side of the museum, and motions for her to follow with the slight tilt of his head.

"Oh, really? I understand that feeling." She crosses her arms and picks up the pace of her short strides. Ahk begins to speed up a bit from a slow leading pace, to a more casual, conversational one. She continues to stare at the ground, exchanging short but intense glances back at him, "I have been meaning to ask, what was it actually like, being you? ...As a pharoh, I mean."

He doesn't answer immediately. Anticipating her willingness to dig deep, he chooses to explain such a distant memory in words she will absorb. "It was ...structured," he says, now mimicking her body language and also looking down as he speaks. "A life full of expectations and responsibilties. Very little was left to chance. My life was planned out for me by the moment I was out of my mother's womb." He sighs, lost in feelings he often buried deep about his childhood.

She nods, giving him space to add more. Then adds, "That sounds...exhausting. I guess I never thought about how restricting being in that kind of position could be for someone, especially growing up."

He gestured vaguely, "It could be. Being equated with godliness means you're never left out of sight." His eyes express conflicted feelings, a tinge of sad, a bit of something not so readily accessible. He finishes quieter, "But it was also what I was raised to become." He hesitates and stops walking for a moment, glancing back at an artifact written on papyrus. He clears his throat, "I was not expected to rule," he says at last. The tone shifts, becoming more serious. His persona melts away, just for a moment.

She looks at him with her full attention, intrigued and trying to piece it all together. "You weren't? But then how-" she begins, unsure how to end the sentence.

"My brother was the one meant for the throne." The silence between them grows thick with uncertainty. This is not something he shares often.

Her expression tightens as she connects the dots, "But- you were chosen instead?" Her arm instinctively reaches out to touch his, attempting to provide some comfort. He glances back up at her when they touch.

He nods, "It was my parents' decision." Voice remaining measured and calm, it is clear there is something just underneath the surface - something he is not ready to speak on.

They are now facing each other fully, amidst the various Egyptian artifacts in the Egyptian wing. Her brows remain furrowed, "And your brother, he didn't take that well, I'm guessing?"

"No." His gaze shifts slightly, entranced in something that fills his eyes with tears. "He did not."

She holds his arm tighter, "That's a lot." She doesn't need to know the details to understand the weight of what is being said.

He looks back at her, his pained expression no longer hiding. "It was not...how I expected my life to unfold." He clears his throat, now aware of the expression he is holding, "But it was the life I was given." He raises his head once more, fixing his posture and regaining his royal composure.

She studies him carefully, the same way she always seems to do. "But that wasn't fair. You were just doing what you were told." The pain in her eyes becomes clearer.

This statement makes him pause - he is taken aback by how matter-of-factly she says it. "...Fairness," he repeats quietly, as if testing the word. "In my time, that was not always the measure by which things were decided."

She nods. "Yeah. I figured." Her eyebrows wrinkle together as she attempts to find the right words. "But that doesn't make it less true."

Time slows as he considers her words. Something seems to shift in him, just slightly. He continues walking as they did before. "You speak plainly," he says.

She lets out a small, awkward laugh, looking away and taking a breath. "Yeah. I've been told that." She pauses, "Too much, sometimes. It's like people wish I would stop saying exactly what I mean."

Though his eyes remain somber, a twinge of a smirk appears on his soft lips. "No. It is...refreshing. I can probably count the number of times people have talked with me without having an ulterior motive. It's...nice to just talk."

This catches her off guard - she was expecting him to agree with her. "Oh-" She looks down and bites her lip, shifting her stance in anticipation, "Well, I'm also into you, so that probably helps." Her eyes penetrate his gaze, searching for confirmation that he feels the same.

"Into me?" He tilts his head, kohl-lined eyes widen, processing.

She nods, realizing she may need to translate. He studies her expression, his gaze serious and inquisitive.

"I do not believe I fully understand your meaning," he says.

She lets out a breath, flustered and amused with him, "Okay, yeah- that's fair." She gestures, trying to find the right words. "It means that I anticipate your presence. I like you, but- not just as a person, more than that. I find myself thinking about you all the time."

He listens closely. His heart stuck on every word. "You mean," he begins slowly, "that your interest is not limited to companionship or conversation?" He takes her hand in both of his. She nods quickly. He considers it carefully, "In my time, such intentions were rarely expressed so plainly." He smirks and continues, "They were implied. Arranged. Or decided by others. Not offered...in this way." His gaze returns to her eyes, this time letting himself fully smile.

She shifts slightly, nervous to hear what comes next, "Well- I'm- offering it." This seems to land more clearly.

He caresses her hand, looking at her with full attention now, "...Then I must respond with equal clarity." Her stomach flips, and she swallows nervously, now aware of the gentle but strong way his warm, soft hands hold hers. "I seek your presence. It is significant. And I do not consider you as I do others. I am drawn to you, your mystery, your companionship, your grace." He kisses her chastely on the back of her hand. "Was I sufficiently direct?"

She smiles wider, "Yeah, that works."

They share a tender moment, holding each other's hands and gazing into each other's eyes, unable to control their smiles. This moment is short-lived, as a group of patrons comes their way. At first, Ahk doesn't notice them; he is too focused on the jewel in front of him. However, as they approach, he feels called to his duties and once again straightens his posture, lifts his chin, and steadies his presence in anticipation. However, the group passed by without stopping, barely glancing over at him, seemingly taking a shortcut of sorts. His jaw tightens, and he breathes deeply, letting his eyes flutter closed for a moment. He withdraws into the moment.

She notices the way he pulls away and seems less present. After the group walks away, she doesn't hesitate and looks at him, "That bothers you."

Ahkmenrah doesn't answer right away. "It is expected."

She shakes her head slightly, "That is not what I said."

He pauses, more honest with himself this time, "It is... observed and noted."

She steps closer to him, almost enough to envelop him in a hug. "They don't get it, they don't understand."

"Get what?"

"You," she says simply. It doesn't sound like reassurance; she states it like a fact. "They go for what's loud. New. Familiar. Or easy to understand. You are none of those things." She shrugs.

He considers that for a moment and states, "That's not a disadvantage."

"No," she agrees. "It just means people have to try to understand you." She pokes him in the middle of his chest. "I did." This shifts something in him, something personal.

"You chose to," he says.

"Yeah. And I'll keep choosing to. There are thousands of years of lore I need to catch up on," she jokes.

"All you need to do is ask. I am full of answers, dear." He delivers with a hint of sass. He studies her for a moment longer than usual, with a hint of thoughtfulness in his expression. "There is something I have neglected to ask," he says.

"Yeah?"

"Your name." He states with complete sincerity.

She laughs, soft and surprised. "Right. That took you a while."

He isn't embarrassed and remains serious. "...It did." He pauses, "I have been speaking with you as though I already knew it."

"Yeah, you have," she smiles.

He steps closer, not imposing her space, but in anticipation. "Will you tell me?" There's something special about the way he asks it. With a certain careful formality.

"My name is Setareh, which means star in Persian."

"Seh-taar-reh. Setareh. I will remember it," he says deliberately.

She raises a brow, smiling, "You better."

He leans on a pillar nearby, "I assure you, I do not forget what is important."

"Good. Because I plan on sticking around, Ahk." She smiles teasingly while he meets her gaze steadily.