I saw him change over the years. The burden of the Sennen Puzzle and the responsibilities of ruling the country weighed heavy on him, but he bore it all- stubbornly, determinedly, taking pride and honour in doing so. He was often the last one to call it a day, studying every piece of information brought to him meticulously, treating his servants well, listening to his advisors intently, and his decision in the end would be a well thought-out one, weighing the pros against the cons.

I assisted him to the best of my ability- I wasn’t alone, as the other wielders of the remaining Sennen Items forged under the late Pharaoh’s reign, joined me in the Court. The beautiful Aishizu, the strong Set, the mysterious Shaadah, the honest Karim, the reclusive Akunadin- each of them carrying the task and obligation tied to their respective Item. I had sealed away the dark and evil… conscience I found when I studied my Sennen Item, the Ring, the day I received it, using my heka to keep it under control.

When he accepted the Throne, things changed between us. From students and friends we suddenly became Pharaoh and Priest, even though it had been inevitable. To me, he remained the same, small Pharaoh child that talked to me in the lotus garden, and I told myself that nothing between us had changed, very much aware of the lie I was telling myself.

I didn’t want anything to change between us, as comfortable as we had grown in each other’s company, as natural as we interacted with each other without being reminded of our positions. One thing did remain the same, much to my pleasure: every night, before retreating to his private quarters, he took a small walk around the courtyard, the small lotus garden, and ended by sitting on the edge of the fountain where we first met. I knew his daily routine, his schedule, and I made sure my evening walks coincided with his, if only to see him outside of the Court, outside of the Pharaoh he was being- I wanted to see him as Atemu, even though I didn’t speak his name but in the silent comfort of my own room.

Despite the guards surrounding him -they only kept the minimum distance, ready to intervene-, he talked about casual things with me, as if nothing had changes. I could feel it between us, the invisible ties that made us drift towards each other. I couldn’t care less for the envious looks I was sometimes given, and I knew about the gossip that went around about how high I stood in his favour. Instead of being annoyed at it, it amused me- all those gossipers would think twice about telling each other how unfair it was if they’d see that during council meetings, I wasn’t spared. If anything, my advice and opinion were weighed double; no, there wasn’t a single shred of favouritism at the Pharaoh’s Court. Only when we walked together, late at night like this, we could leave our positions behind us, and just be who we were.

I would settle for this friendship, would settle for this deep bond we shared. We would finish each other’s sentences, we were able to quickly pick up on what the other was about to say, or what the other was feeling by just a simple look, or movement, or the intonation in his voice. Often Mana would accompany us, being her bubbly and joyous self. We both would do anything to make our Pharaoh smile and laugh, and to make the three of us to feel at ease, forgetting the work and the obligations for just that one moment.

Our Pharaoh… my Pharaoh. I latched onto everything he said, watched every movement of his eyes, wanting to see something there that I could interpret in a certain way. I had to be careful when my fellow Priests were around me at a meeting or during our council, that it wouldn’t be too obvious that I was observing him, let alone that the Pharaoh himself would be annoyed by my gazing stare, but I just couldn’t turn away. I had to know, had to see that smile on his lips, if it was meant only for me, and when he turned his head, if he would look at me, if that look on his face was directed at me.

I promised his father, the late Pharaoh Akunamukanon, on his deathbed that I would take care of his son, I would take care of Atemu and protect him, serve him to the best of my abilities.. no more than my abilities. I had to protect him as I promised; he was family to me, more than family, and my promise to his father had turned into a passionate vow as my feelings towards him had changed. I was looking for signs that his feelings had changed too, and I could only hope and pray- and be his servant as I used to be his teacher.

These last few days the Palace had been up and about in commotion, caused by the appearance of a certain thief calling himself Bakura. The man claimed to be the King of Thieves, and had managed to barge into the Throne Room - the Throne Room! - unleashing his ka: the terrifying Diabound. Until that day, I had seen lots of evil ka spirits, demons strengthened by the hatred, anger or anguish in one’s heart, but never anything like this. We Priests always managed to extract it from the person, to seal it onto the stone slab, containing the evil to never walk free and blacken the heart more.

This… this monster, this Diabound- was horrifying. In size, in power, in ability; it surpassed us all, and I couldn’t unleash my heka fully, I couldn’t strengthen my Magus enough without endangering the others around me. I saw Set trying to contain the beast, using his Sennen Rod to seal it, but to no avail. Karim couldn’t even weigh the evil in the thief’s heart, his Sennen Scales going wild, and I thought Shaadah would keel over on the spot from the shock when trying to use his Sennen Ankh on the man.

It was a dreadful situation, and this Diabound was going to destroy us all, if it weren’t for our... my… our Pharaoh stepping up to the plate. We tried to stop him, not wanting him to be in any kind of danger, and silence fell as he moved himself in front of us, the Pharaoh protecting his Priests. Was it because Bakura had defiled the late Pharaoh’s tomb, his father’s tomb, dragging the sarcophagus all the way into the Throne Room? Was it that the thief used the mighty Pharaoh’s dia dia’ankh to call forth his spirit ka? Was it his audacity… his sheer pride this man took in what he had done?

I could barely give it a second thought, as the dia dia’ankh on the Pharaoh’s wrist unfolded and he called for one of the Gods. Not even Shimon had expected that particular thing to happen, never having witnessed a God answering a call. The Pharaoh called forth his strongest servant, the mighty Obelisk, and we all stared in shock and in awe, as Diabound was thrown back and the thief injured. There wasn’t much room for celebration though, as it was more than obvious that both Diabound and Obelisk were matching each other in strength. It had ended with the thief retreating, but not as hasty as I’d like to see- this man knew that he was strong and dangerous.

A young servant approached me in my room, carrying a small golden tray. There were guards outside my door- security had doubled, tripled, after this so-called King of Thieves had uttered threats about reclaiming the Sennen Items, taking them away from us. I was searching through my scrolls, looking for my personal notes. Bakura had mentioned things that were very familiar to me.

When I researched the Sennen Ring after I received it, I had discovered certain facts that made me shiver in disbelief and fear. The truth was the most important thing, but it was still a low priority compared to the Pharaoh’s safety. I would always protect him, even from the truth, even it would cost me my life. That he had taken his stand in front of us, facing off with the thief single-handedly, was humiliating. We, the Priests, should’ve been able to deal with that… cretin ourselves.

I barely noticed gritting my teeth, and the servant backed away from me a little. I quickly straightened my face, taking the scroll from the tray and snapped the thin cord around it. It was a personal message from Atemu- no, the Pharaoh… he wished to see me. I could hardly keep my wildly pounding heart in check. I had received similar messages before, and I had to remind myself that I was only summoned for a meeting, to give some extra advice he needed, or an opinion he wanted to hear. It meant, however, that I got to see him in his own room, where the flickering of the candles and oil lamps would cast that magnificent glow on his face, bringing out the intensity of his eyes even more.

Standing up, I followed the servant out of my room, acquiescing to the guards following me. I always wondered how the Pharaoh was dealing with the constant proximity of guards, of servants- they were hard to ignore, and I was glad to arrive at his private quarters soon enough, noticing that there were more than ten guards outside the doors. Set sure had taken quite the drastic measures. As the doors were opened for me, I realized I was still holding the scroll with the simple message in my hand, and I put it on a small wooden side table.

Crossing the antechamber, I reached for the door that separated me from his room. Something… different was in the air. It didn’t have anything to do with heka… was it my nervousness? I had been here before. What could be different from all those other times? I took in a deep breath and opened the door, smelling incense, lotus incense. The room was slightly dark, and it took me a few moments to adjust my eyes properly. He was sitting in the corner, a few papyri spread out on the table next to him.

“Great Pharaoh,” I said after I walked over to him, kneeling down in the respectful manner as I was taught to. “You wished to see me?”

“Yes, I wished to see you, Mahaado,” he said, turning around in the large seat, holding a scroll in his hand, a slight scowl on his face.

“These reported sightings of Bakura are worrying me,” he continued, showing me the records of spotted sightings of the thief. In my position as captain of the royal tomb guard, I was responsible by default. Bakura had managed to defile one tomb. He wouldn’t be able to break into another one and come out of it alive. I placed my hand on my chest, over my heart, to stress the importance of my vow.

“I will take on my responsibilities and investigate the matter further, Great Pharaoh,” I said. “Rest assured that such events will never occur again.” The last thing we would ever need were more thieves running rampant and break into the tombs of our beloved ancestors, following the King of Thieves’ example. Most of the tombs were protected by a multitude of traps, devised by Shimon himself. Not many of previous tomb robbers had been able to figure them out, paying for their misjudgement with their lives. This man, however… “I will strengthen the guards and inspect the tombs and their traps at once.”

“Very well,” he said, rolling up the records and putting them aside on the table. “I will leave it to you to take the appropriate precautions. I rather mention this to you in person then in another Council meeting, wherein Set will take the advantage to rub it in how inefficient you are- which you are not, of course. To Set, everyone is inefficient but Set himself.”

I lowered my head, hiding my grateful smile. My fellow Priest would strive with me for the Pharaoh’s praise, though he treated us all accordingly and equally. I knew that at least Set would take any chance to discredit me- not out of spite, but because he had reached perfection in his own eyes. There was no one who could or would doubt High Priest Set’s loyalty, intelligence and his strength in tactics, on the battle fields and in duels. I felt ashamed enough that I failed my Pharaoh; I didn’t need Set to point it out again to me, especially not in front of the whole Council.

“I thank you, Great Pharaoh.” After the nod of his head, I rose to my feet, convinced that the meeting was over. Short, much too short to my liking, but if this was all I could get, I would have to take it. Just as I was about to bid him a good night and thank him once again for his advice and his words, he suddenly tilted his head and smiled.

“It has been a while since we really talked, Mahaado. How is your family doing?”

He took me by surprise, even though he was right- ever since the appearance of the King of Thieves, he’d been too occupied to take his usual evening walks in the lotus garden. His words struck a bittersweet cord with me. It was tradition that a Priest’s ties with his family were completely severed, as to leave his past behind, a symbolic new start. It was no secret that the majority of the Priests had some kind of contact in the large city to keep them informed about their family’s well-being, even though it was officially forbidden. I had a similar contact, an honest merchant who knew the right people who knew my family. Because of him, I knew that both my parents had passed away, and that most of my siblings were doing fine- that is, the usual life of a farmer’s family.

“They are doing fine, Great Pharaoh,” I said, a small smile tugging at my lips. It was no secret either that the Pharaoh was aware of all of this. He’d been considering abolishing this particular tradition for a while now.

“That is good to hear,” he said and he stood up from his chair, stretching a little. He probably had been studying those records for hours on end.

“Great Pharaoh?”

He only showed me a smile, but it was more than enough. This one was for me, definitely, and I had to keep from gasping.

“Family is extremely important. It has been over two years now…”

“Forgive me,” I immediately murmured, lowering my head again. How could I have forgotten- allowing myself to be occupied with smiles and superficial infatuations, when my Pharaoh was still grieving for his father, on the exact day of his death, two years ago?

He didn’t answer me; I didn’t hear anything but the rustle of clothing, and I didn’t dare raising my head again until he gave me permission. I could mentally slap myself, but all my thoughts of self-chastising disappeared when I overheard the sound of wine being poured into a mug.

I slowly raised my head, my eyes searching out the Pharaoh who stood at the dresser, his back turned towards me, and he was pouring the wine- not one, but two goblets. The idea of the Great Pharaoh himself serving me wine was devastating to me, and I quickly moved to take the chore out of his hands, my hand brushing over his. I had never been so close to him as I was now- not even when walking in the courtyard, our small lotus garden, where I held a distance between us-, our arms never touched or even brushed. He mumbled something, and I couldn’t make out if it was from the frustration of me taking the wine out of his hands or that something else was bothering him.

“Great Pharaoh, you should sit down and rest,” I admonished him gently, holding the two goblets. He looked at me, nodding in agreement and he took a few steps away from me, returning to the large chair he’d been sitting in just a few moments before. I didn’t know if my heart would be able to upkeep this high rate it was beating with, and though I mourned the loss of his close proximity, I knew it was for the better and I handed one of the goblets to him. He made a gesture with his hand to the other chair, motioning for me to sit down- I thanked him and sat down myself, my eyes never leaving him.

It wasn’t the wine. It was watered down, a light, sweet wine that tasted pleasantly on the tongue. It wasn’t the lotus incense; I smelled lotus constantly. If it weren’t for the garden, there were lotus flowers almost everywhere, and the scent wasn’t that distinctive to me anymore. It was… it was me. I simply couldn’t help myself. He sat a little slouched in the chair, at ease as I only had the privilege to see him; his knees pulled up, hands resting in his lap, his body inclined to the right. I touched him. My hand found itself touching his lower right arm. I touched the living personification of the Gods, son of Horus, son of Ra… and his skin was like a soft cloud, as my fingers touched the smooth surface. His body was hardened by life, yet remained supple and lean- and glistening with gold, cast by the flickering lights of the oil lamps.

He turned his head towards me again, his eyes half-lidded, the goblet of wine still in his hand. It must’ve been empty by now, as we’d been talking for several hours. I couldn’t even remember the topics of our conversation, as I’d been mesmerized by the movements of his lips, his tongue flicking out occasionally, keeping my eyes on his face, on his eyes. I noticed that I had moved towards him, shifting to the edge of my seat… and I was touching him.

He didn’t say anything. Gods, it had been so long since I touched him. When we were still studying and training together, preparing for our future tasks, we touched each other as everyone did; brushing past each other in passing, stepping on each other’s toes when being clumsy, hands moving… so long since I’ve touched him since then, not even a simple brush of his fingers. My hand- it moved upwards as if it had a will of its own, stroking his skin, tracing the goose bumps that had appeared. It wasn’t cold in his room, not by a long shot. Was it my breathing that resonated in my ears, or was it his?

The gold on his arms was a bother; it interrupted the perfect outlines of his arm, it deprived me of caressing more skin, deprived me of seeing the beautiful glow of his body. I leaned even more forward, on the edge of my seat, and pressed my lips against his upper arm, just above the golden band. I pressed my lips against his skin and tasted him. I couldn’t find any words to describe it. It was silent in the room, I couldn’t even hear him breathing, and I couldn’t hear myself breathing. It was as if my heart had stopped, my eyes had gone blind, my ears had gone deaf… and still I lived, drowning in his taste, his scent leaving its impression on my every sense, taking it in, gulping, swallowing, overwhelming… and wanting more.

He didn’t scream for his guards. He didn’t tell me to stop. I saw his other hand tremble, as it was still holding the goblet, and the little wine left made a sloshing sound. My mind was screaming at me, my composure, my rationality, it was screaming, ranting, raving, yelling- I was overstepping boundaries, I was damning myself to be stripped of Priesthood and everything I held dear... and he didn’t say anything. He was shivering as if cold again, despite the warm cloak around his shoulders, but he didn’t move. He tilted his head, the right earring slipping over his shoulder.

I was sure he didn’t keep those heavy, large things in at night- and wondered why I was even thinking of it. All I wanted was to taste him again and I brought my lips to his arm anew, pressing a little harder. I moved up, along his arm, keeping my kisses light and gentle, but firm- showing him that I was serious, though leaving him enough time between kisses to pull away if he wanted. It was hard to stay focused, to silence the screaming rational part of my mind that was harping over and over again that I should stop doing what I was doing, that I was inappropriately touching my Pharaoh… yes, my Pharaoh.

I wasn’t aware he had tilted his head that far that his lips were close to mine when I reached his shoulder, the rim of his shenti proving to be another obstacle… an obstacle I couldn’t even dream of tackling. His lips were parted slightly, maybe in surprise, maybe in excitement, or in anticipation… now I could hear him breathe, slightly faster than normal, and I only had kissed him on the arm. No one dared to touch the son of the Gods.

Not even those closest to him touched him, be it for Mana, perhaps- but she stubbornly refused to see him as the Pharaoh, referring to him as “Prince”, and still surprised why he couldn’t go hide in pots as he used to do. The Gods be damned, myself be damned, but his lips were so kissable, they were all but offered to me, and I raised my head slightly to nip at his lower lip, capturing it between my own. He was so close, not moving, not protesting, and I took in his scent; spicy, cinnamon and copper, gold and lotuses. Nutmeg and blood, the hot sun, clear day sky after a rain storm… it was nothing I could ever have imagined, so much at the same time, almost too much to bear, and I always… finished what I started.

I was doomed already. I had touched him, I had kissed him on the arm, and I was holding his lower lip hostage, tasting and sampling him. He could call for the guards any moment now, to have me taken away and have me whipped until I would bleed to death. My lips finally left his, an ominous feeling washing over me as he hadn’t responded. His scent had filled my every sense, his taste was imprinted on my lips and I could still taste him- it would remain with me, no matter what would happen to me. It would be with me forever, until eternity, and now it was time for me to go back to my place, to await his ordeal, his judgment, his condemnation… As I slumped back into the chair, he reached for me, grabbing my wrist with surprising strength.

“Gr-great Pharaoh..?”

His smile was warm, confident and friendly, and he was more at ease as I had ever seen him. He brought up his own hand to touch my cheek, and his fingers felt like fire, sunburn on my skin without being painful- it was a warmth I’d never be able to describe. It was joyous, radiant, brilliant…and I realised I just gasped.

“Take off your headdress,” he simply said. His voice wasn’t commanding, but not asking either- I would’ve obeyed anyway, if my whole body wasn’t suddenly feeling like it was being weighed down by lead.

“Great Pharaoh…”

“Take it off, please. I have not seen your hair for so long.” I managed to lift my hands up and remove the headdress, the pleated linen cloth held together by the golden frame with the sun disk in the middle. It covered my hair completely and framed my face, as almost every Priest wore something akin of a headdress; Karim was the only one to wear a simple headband. I removed it, dropping it beside me, my fingers slightly trembling as well.

My hair was just thick and an ordinary chestnut colour, so much unlike his black and magenta locks, crowned with the golden bangs that swung with every movement. My cheeks were blushing, and not because of his scrutinizing gaze, but because I couldn’t remember him seeing me without the headdress, and even though it was only my hair, I felt… exposed. Naked and vulnerable somehow, and I startled slightly when his hand brushed a few strands away from my face, his fingers sliding past my cheeks again.

I wanted to call his name. I wanted to ask me what he wished from me, what he desired from me. I was willing to do anything, everything, just to please him, just to hold him, just to touch him. I would’ve sold my soul for this evening to never end; I would’ve frozen time if I had been able to. He was the one to press his lips against mine, tentatively, hesitantly at first, a child’s kiss, full on my lips. As if he wanted to thank me, a simple kiss to mix his taste with mine, to remind me of the lotuses again, the same flowers that floated in the fountain where we first met.

His hand sank into my hair, palm of his hand brushing past my ear and I shivered, parting my lips as I did so, and permitted myself the audacity to kiss him fully. Not the chaste, virgin brush of soft flesh, but the fierce, determined pressing of slightly chafed lips to full, luscious ones and I kissed him, I kissed him hard enough to bruise those kissable lips and he… moaned.

The weight against my chest was his hand, fisting itself in my robes with such a grip that his knuckles had turned white. His goblet had disappeared, and I vaguely saw the object lying on the floor, its remaining content spilled on the rich carpet. I never saw him dropping it and I couldn’t care less at he moment- his hand was in my hair, his hand was in my hair, and his other was tearing at my robes with the intensity of my kiss. I couldn’t stop- I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, nothing of that all- just kiss him, taste him, drown in him.

“My Pharaoh,” I breathed, saying what I always wanted to say: My Pharaoh. He didn’t answer, not that I expected him to. He pressed his lips again on mine, parting them already before kissing me and I knew the sensations had to be mutual- he wanted more too. Did I feel smug when he moved towards me, all but slipping in my lap, his hand still curled against my chest, fingers clutching at the fabric? No, I didn’t- I felt grateful.

Grateful that I could bring him pleasure, that he enjoyed my kisses, that he wanted more. He tugged at my hair lightly, fingers stroking the strands, raking through the thick tresses, draping it over my shoulder again and again. He was latched onto my lips as a drowning man, and who was I to deny him, after what I had started? How could I deny him, when my body was aching for more, already heating up with every passing second?

We kissed and kissed, gradually increasing in noise- both our breathing became more erratic, as soft moans alternated with rather lustful sighs, and we kissed again and again. My hand was on his thigh, remaining still, to keep him from slipping out of my lap as he nestled against me, and my other hand was on his shoulder, keeping him close to me. Oh so close… I sensed the warmth radiating off of him, becoming more heated, and every time he moved, be it the littlest of movements, he created such a delicious friction that I couldn’t keep from moaning into the kisses we shared.

It was too late to stop. We went too far to turn back, even if we had torn ourselves apart at that very moment, and he knew it as well as I did. There was some desperation behind his touches, as his hand started yanking at my robes, as he lifted up his hips to turn even more towards me, burying himself against me. What was he looking for? And was I... the right person to give it to him? My fingers had found their way to the clasps of his broad collar and unlocked them; immediately the large, purple cloak slipped from his shoulders, spilling over the armrest of the chair.

He drew up his legs, curling even closer to me, tilting his head a little to demand a kiss from me again, a kiss I was very willing to give to him. I kissed them again and again until I dared to use my tongue, running past his lips first, before slipping in gently, tentatively. His fingers in my robes clutched even harder, with a little extra force they would rip the fabric apart. He certainly never was touched this way before, and I realized how he was trusting me- trusting me to keep him safe, to do to him what I wanted to do to satisfy both our pleasure, to make him feel wanted, needed- not as the Pharaoh for his country, not as the ruler of a nation, but as a person, as Atemu, as the one sitting in my lap, silently asking me for more.

The broad collar fell to the ground, its fall broken by the carpet. My hand roamed his shoulder, fingers tracing the rim of his shenti, unable to get enough of the feel of his smooth skin, sun kissed golden skin, and I moved my hand upwards to his neck, grazing his hairline, brushing past the strands. My other hand was still on his covered thigh, but my fingers were gripping the fabric as well, slowly pulling it up.

“My Pharaoh…” How many times had I broken up a kiss, how many times had I pulled away the littlest of inches, a small distance, just to look at him, just to gaze at his half-lidded eyes, to stare at the long dark lashes fluttering open and close? I had lost count, and I was sure he wasn’t keeping count either- I had gently explored his mouth, and he had softly moaned, as sensations were intensifying rapidly.

My body was aching, hungry, lustful, and despite all my hours of meditation and contemplation it became more and more difficult to keep myself under control. I wanted to hear him, I wanted him to moan my name, and I wanted him to pant and gasp and most of all… I wanted him under me. If my cheeks weren’t already red enough from all the delicious kissing, they certainly were now- such indecent thoughts, such… audacity! If I voiced any of these thoughts out loud, I would be punished, I would be ridiculed, mocked for even daring to think about the son of the Gods this way- and I couldn’t care less. Not this very moment.

I almost slid off my seat, tightening my grip on him as I felt him move- and my heart sunk, as he slipped out of my lap, putting his feet back on the ground, standing up. I moaned the loss of my grip on him, even though my hand was still clutching at his shenti- it felt like all the warmth moved way from me, depriving me of its comfort, rendering me cold and shivering. My stomach was turning upside down, I had to swallow and force myself to look up at him… awaiting his condemnation, his judgment… his execution.

I went too far, and now I had to pay for my… my thoughts got cut off, as I saw him taking off his Sennen Item, dropping the artefact to the floor. He’d kept it next to his side so it wouldn’t poke me in the chest when I kissed him, but the object was just too large. Without a second thought, I removed my Sennen Ring, all but throwing it on the chair. He didn’t have to reach for me; I stood up myself to take him into my arms, embracing him. His hand fisted itself in my robes again, wrapping his other arm around my waist- such a delicious, but hesitant touch, as if he needed directions.

“My Pharaoh…” I whispered in his ear, “Allow me…”

The affirmative nod of his head was all I needed, and I started to back him up to the bed- the large bed close to the open fire, casting enough comfortable warmth for the whole room, enough warmth for the both of us. He still didn’t protest, landing soft kisses on my neck, his left hand buried in my hair, and he allowed himself to be guided by me, until the back of his knees hit the bed. He immediately sank on the covers- for a brief moment my heart seemed to stop beating, afraid as if I had hurt him, but barely had the time to ask him when he tugged me down.

Pulling up his shenti, revealing more of his thigh, my fingers started to tremble again as I caressed his skin, feeling goose bumps arise wherever I went. His breathing was definitely more erratic now, as he fully realized my intentions, and that he had given permission for it. The moment he’d say no, I would stop, of course… I wouldn’t do a thing to hurt him, but I wanted him so bad, wanted to answer his trust, wanted to serve him to the best of my abilities. As I lied him down on the bed, his hand shifted to my back, touch still hesitantly exploring, his other hand idly stroking the strands of my hair, fanning them over my shoulders.

Soft sounds escaped him, between moans and gasps, and it was all music to my ears. If only he would call my name… my hands moved to remove the golden bands around his waist, finding and unlocking the clasps, and now there was nothing but layers of linen between us- his shenti and my robes. My fingers trickled over his mid-bare thighs before I raised my hands to start undressing myself. It was awkward, as he didn’t help me, just watched me. I felt a little embarrassed, as my body showed every sign of excitement, and I was extremely sure I was the first one, his first one, the first nude person he saw. I repaid his trust with trust of my own- to show myself naked, no clothes, nothing to hide behind, and I was all his.

I would stop and dress myself when he said so; I would leave him if he wanted me to. My stomach kept clenching and unclenching itself, almost rendering me nauseous, but I suppressed it. Nothing was going to spoil this moment now, and I continued, removing the last line of clothing, pulling the garment over his head. He was so beautiful. Eyes all but closed, long dark lashes firmly brushing against his reddened cheeks, his lips a little parted. I claimed them, time and time again, bruising them as my passion grew. Every word that we wanted to speak was cut short by our kissing, rendering us silent but gasping and moaning.

His slender, long fingers on my skin was a tantalizing touch, while my calloused ones scratched and cut him, breaking the surface of his skin. I was touching perfection and ruining it, bruising his lips as I kissed him. I couldn’t get enough of his lips but forced myself to tear away, to give his whole body the attention it deserved, it desired, it craved. Leaning into him, I wedged my knee between his legs and he already arched his back, emitting an audible gasp. His hand tightened in my hair, almost yanking the strands. He had to relax, and I tried to accomplish it by showering his body with light kisses, swirling with my tongue over sensitive flesh, trying to take away his nervousness by comforting him as my fingers stroked him, touching him wherever I could.

There was a little bowl of oil on the small night stand, probably used to rub on dry or chafed skin. It smelled like flowers- lotus oil, of course. I couldn’t suppress another smile as I reached for it, dipping my fingers in the substance. This would certainly help, if only for the familiar scent of it. I rubbed it between the palms of my hands and placed them on his body, roaming his chest and abdomen.

He let out a surprised, yet pleasured moan, and it didn’t take long for him to relax again, the massage soothing and comforting. His fingers released their grip on my hair, and his moans increased as I worked lower, using more of the oil as I went on. This was a privilege, a small miracle in itself... and where my fingers went, my mouth would follow, kissing and stroking him, becoming more confident myself as his little gasps increased. I looked up at him, silently begging him to tell me to continue- but his eyes were closed, though not cramped. His cheeks still wore the red colour and his lips were parted in pleasure, his breathing heavier as I resumed massaging him, reaching between his legs, my fingers slick with the oil.

He cried out when I touched him there, his body responding as in shock, arching himself off the bed. I pressed down on his hips, gently, waiting for him to motion me to stop if he wanted to. I captured his lips again before trailing all over his throat, taking away his attention from the intrusion of his body as I added a second finger, eliciting another breathily gasp from him, his legs a little cramping.

“My Pharaoh,” I finally spoke, “are you... all right..?”

I received a low groan in return, a barely understandable syllable, and I took it for a ‘yes, continue’, my heart pounding against my chest, rejoicing in his response. I shifted, wedging my other knee between his legs, gently nudging his thigh to create a little more room and he obliged. Pushing my fingers further in, I started to move so very carefully, not wanting to hurt him in the least. I fully realized how much I was focusing on him and his pleasure- which was all but natural to me. My own body ached and longed for him, but I would be satisfied very soon, and I could wait. His joy and satisfaction were more important anyway, and I already had been rewarded beyond comprehension and belief.

From the corner of my eyes I noticed another woodblock of the open fire fizzling out, ash flakes whirling momentarily in the air before lying down on the floor. It would be warm enough in the room for hours to come, but our bodies were generating heat enough to keep multiple fires burning. It was a very pleasant heat that seemed to focus at one certain part of my body, discovering to my satisfaction that it had the same effect on my Pharaoh as well. With great control, I added a third finger, keeping an eye on his reactions, and rejoicing once again as he started to push back, his body responding to the intrusion, finding pleasure and no pain.

I touched and caressed him wherever I could with my other hand, continuously roaming his body. His hands had dropped from my back and shoulders, fingers gripping at the sheets. I could drown in his every movement, his every moan and gasp, as I drank in the sight of him writhing, pushing back against my fingers to gain more pleasure. The slight moist on his lips was either from the thin sheet of sweat covering his body or from licking with his own tongue in anticipation and simply lustful desire- as I claimed them again, I tasted the salt, the hunger, the need… the bare, raw need, and my calm, my composure, my control was shattered.

“Wrap your legs around me,” I whispered, and he complied, lifting up his legs and wrapping them around my waist, arching his back. Altering the angle as he did so, he cried out- the first real cry, and I shuddered, hearing the need and longing behind it, but also the pure pleasure. I didn’t care if the Gods would smite me for this, if I was stripped from Priesthood and pride- this was something no one could take away from me. He cried out in pleasure, voicing his feelings, and soon he would breathe my name. I removed my fingers slowly, and he moaned for the loss into our kiss, his breathing more and more quickened, fingers gripping the sheets almost spasmodically. He knew what was coming, and he wanted it, just as I wanted it.

Never for one moment had I thought I would command him, say something like this to him- no one would command a son of the Gods, ever, but I was beyond the rationalisation my mind tried to provide for me. In the literal heat of the moment, I just wanted to feel him, his legs around me, and he obeyed me, his Priest, the other way around, as I felt his body arching up to mine.

He didn’t say ‘please’. For as long as we were making love, from the first second our lips had touched until now, he was rather silent, except for the previous wail as he lifted his hips. He was panting and moaning a whole army’s worth, but not once had I heard him calling my name or had he given any orders to me; his body had done the talking, and at this moment, it was screaming.

The second wail of the night was torn from his throat as I guided myself into him, gently pushing in, giving him all the time he needed to adjust- it was so difficult, as I was burning, burning with love and desire and lust, and my mind was telling me to take it easy, to hold on to the last scraps of my self-control, but for the love of all the Gods… so difficult. I slid in further, the time I took to prepare him paying off as he arched his back, relaxing far easier than I originally thought, for which I was thankful. He tightened the grip of his legs around my waist, almost forcing me deeper, and I leaned into him some more, my lips searching out his again.

“My Pharaoh…”

He let go of the sheets to cling to me, his fingers digging into my shoulders and back. He latched onto my lips, breathing heavily, begging silently, and delicious moans slipping from him as he pushed back again- he was ready.

Was I ready myself? More than anything. I wanted him so much, I could cry- these feelings engulfing me, enveloping me, the heat, the desire, the pure lust running through my veins. I was past my initial embarrassment, my fear of doing something wrong, of being unable to pleasure him as a Pharaoh was supposed to be pleasured. I couldn’t ignore my own needs and wants any longer. I started to move, answering these feelings, shivering as sensations travelled through me, attacking me from every side, fuelling the fire inside me.

I had no reign over my actions anymore, loosing the rest of my control as his cries spurred me on, his body moving with me in the rhythm I set. This… this should never have ended. There was nothing more that I wanted, I craved, I desired for, than being joined with him in this way, to continuously feel this utmost satisfaction, these sensations of... reaching paradise. I increased my pace as lust kept growing, shutting everything down until only that remained- pure, simple lust.

I lowered my head, breathing against his throat, laying my ear closer to hear his delightful cries, rendered beyond comprehensible speech. His legs were cramping up around me, his fingers were trying to drill holes through my skin, his nails too short to rake and cut. The lotus oil was intoxicating, but not as much as he was; the sight of him under me, hair damp from sweating and clinging to his face in wild, unruly black and maroon strands, the golden bangs covering his red cheeks, plastered to his skin was engraving itself in my mind- no one, no one was going to take this away from me, not ever. His chest heaved from the difficulties he had breathing, his senses out of control before long, only focused on receiving pleasure and reaching that peak, that all-out climax we both wanted to attain.

“Come for me, my Pharaoh,” I whispered, my voice slightly hoarse from the panting I did myself. Even though I did not wish to rush him, I could barely keep myself any longer under control. This pace I reached was too difficult to keep up, so many sensations, so much heat, so… everything all-compassing desire and passion. A simple farm boy who became a Priest due to his incredible heka, was pleasuring a God incarnate, the Pharaoh himself, feeding mutual love and desire, increasing the passion between us that it was about to explode.

“Atemu… please… Atemu…”

My prayers were answered. The satisfaction of reaching my peak was nothing compared to his cry, his wail, as his legs cramped up even more, arching his back and lifting himself all but off of the bed, throwing his head back into the pillows and fingers digging painfully in my shoulders. He cried out my name, loud enough for the both of us to hear, a “Mahaado..!” tumbling from his lips in a languished, smouldering scream, dissolving into a long and deep moan as his body was wrecked by those delicious waves, shuddering and surrendering himself completely to the storm of sensations raging through him.

It was more than enough to warrant my own release, mustering up at least some sort of control to not crow in delight, to keep my own vocal attributions low, as I was still hearing the echo of his cry, my name drifting through the air as if it could materialize. My mind refused to acknowledge that I had called his name, his given name twice, and was still calling it, softly, almost inaudible, because it was too beautiful not to be said.

His final moan, his last sigh, was a very heavy one, as if a giant weight had been lifted off his shoulders. His hands slipped from my back, falling almost lifelessly on the crumpled sheets of the bed, fingers not even curling. His breathing was heavy, legs still clenched around my waist, and his eyes were barely focused as he tried to collect his bearings. There wasn’t a sliver of fear or unrest in me, much to my own surprise- I felt happy and grateful, knowing that I brought him relief, a release, that I had been able to pleasure him. He had placed his trust in me, and I hadn’t damaged it- everything I had done, was aimed at his satisfaction and well-being. I longed for him to call my name, and my wish had been fulfilled.

Gazing at him, checking if he was feeling satisfied and content, I slowly retreated, moving away from him to break up our union. He returned the look, a smile tugging at his lips, no more energy left but to give a small whimper as I pulled out as careful as I could. .Without making much of a sound, I reached past him and tugged at the mass of pillows to put a few of them under his head to ensure his comfort, not passing up on the opportunity to rake through his hair that had become a little sweaty, curling slightly from the dampness. It brought another smile to my face- I wouldn’t see the Pharaoh much more intimate than this, and knowing that his hair curled when damp was trivial compared to our earlier… endeavour, but still it made me smile.

We didn’t speak. He tilted his head a little to the right, eyes closing as he was still trying to regain his breathing, going from short, ragged gasping to slow inhaling and exhaling. I caressed his cheek, brushing a few of the same damp, slightly curling strands out of his face, tucking it behind his ears, noticing that he hadn’t taken out his earrings for some reason. My fingers dabbed at the thin film of sweat on his face and his throat, exploring as if for the first time all over again. I had no idea about the time, how long it had taken from the first kiss to our release, but it wasn’t important.

I studied him, taking in every reaction, drinking in how he laid there, more than simply naked and spend. We both had been children, he was still a child in some ways, we had grown up together… and somehow I’d always known that this would happen. We weren’t master and servant, we weren’t Priest and Pharaoh, we were… friends and lovers. Even if it was meant to be to happen for only one night, only this night… we still were exactly that, friends and lovers. I placed another kiss on his lips, the lightest of touches, the last kiss of the night.

I wasn’t disappointed that he fell asleep immediately. If anything, I was extremely grateful. He needed his rest, and this gave me the opportunity to take care of him. I used lukewarm water and a few towels to clean him up, feeling slightly melancholy as I removed every trace, wiping over his abdomen, dabbing at the spilled liquid. Silence reigned as I dressed him in a short night gown and tucked him in, slipping his exhausted body under the sheets, carefully rearranging them, draping his arms across his chest.

My own clean-up could wait- my own wants could wait, as my need had been satisfied. I brushed and combed his hair, took out his earrings and put them on the small night stand, next to the drained small bowl of lotus oil. I watched him sleep, watched his chest rise and fall, completely at ease, and I was thankful that the rest his body was craving for, was given to him, feeling satisfied that I had been the one providing him with this rest. No frown would mar his face, no worry would plague him, and no nightmare would haunt him until the dawn of the morning. Dressing myself a little sloppily, I threw the Ring over my head, almost grunting in annoyance as I felt the weight resting against my chest. The Sennen Puzzle was placed on the Pharaoh’s desk, next to his writing utensils- it was right in his line of sight when he’d wake up.

Leaving the room was hard, but for the best. Curling up next to him and holding him while he slept was out of the question, no matter how much my heart wanted it, yearned for it- who knows who were already gossiping that Priest Mahaado spend an awfully long amount of time alone with the Pharaoh in His Holiness’ private quarters. The Pharaoh had his own ways of receiving anyone he wanted to see or to speak to, alone or not, but it could become conspicuous if one certain person would be the only one to spend that much time alone with him.

It was extremely late at night now, though… as I left the room, clothing better in place, I ordered the guards outside to not have anyone interrupt the Pharaoh’s rest, by capital punishment if they dared. If there was some kind of emergency -like Bakura barging into the Palace again, which reminded me sourly and brusquely of the ongoing situation-, I was to be alerted first. Their affirmative salute went past me, as tiredness suddenly crept up on me. I still looked a little dishevelled and now I wanted to return to my room and hide under my bed- I wasn’t sure if I was going to cry from happiness what I had just shared with my Pharaoh, or from the realization that we were both alone in our beds, separated by a world of difficulties and differences.

I only raised my head because I sensed someone was watching me, and I already knew who it was even before my eyes locked on him.

“Set,” I acknowledged his presence, “you are still up awfully late.”

He snorted, probably very much inclined to say that the same went for me, as his eyes raked over me, and I was extremely glad I had forced myself to put my headpiece back on, otherwise it would’ve been a very… strange predicament if my fellow Priest had seen me even more dishevelled. He tucked the Sennen Rod away under his elbow, small disdain visible by the way he pursed his lips.

“There has been another report of someone breaking and entering the royal tombs. Your guards have been killed. It is the third time in a week now, Mahaado.”

“I will attend to it at once,” I said, genuine sorrow for the loss of my men rising up bile in my throat. That vile King of Thieves! He already had made his point clear, what was he thinking by breaking into other tombs, or were this simply his followers or copycats?

Set threw a glance at the closed doors behind me, then shifted his gaze back to me and then to the doors again. He didn’t mention a thing, but out of everyone he was the first to draw a conclusion, and most of the times a correct one at that.

“Come, let us discuss this in a more appropriate environment,” I said, trying to coax him into moving away. I wasn’t really looking forward to enter another discussion with Set, however. As much as I longed for a bath to clean up myself, it had to wait after receiving this news, which was startling in itself.

“The Pharaoh should be informed of this,” he answered stiffly, and for a moment I feared he would take a step into the direction of the doors and throw them open. I had instructed the guards to allow no one to pass, but an irate High Priest Set would pass everyone and anything- I had not doubt that they didn’t dare to speak up to him.

“He will be,” I answered, a little too quickly. “First thing after the sunrise, my friend. Please allow him to rest. He was very tired when I spoke to him, and he already brought this issue to my attention.”
Set snorted again; he was one of the very few to openly doubt the equal treatment of the Pharaoh of all his Priests- he didn’t keep it a secret that he thought I was being favoured.

I shook my head, not up to a cat-and-mouse game, and I was the first one to take a step away from the closed doors behind me, the room where I spend a large part of the night, the person I loved… yes, loved more than anything in this world. He had called my name, and I could still hear it ring in my ears, and no matter how much Set was talking to me, I was listening to the Pharaoh’s… to Atemu’s voice, and how he had pronounced my name in that moment full of passion.

What does a young child know?

Nothing. It learns as it grows up, by experiencing and living life itself. It’ll turn into a man or a woman when loving, laughing, losing, lamenting, throughout the years. The basics are there, as a young child- as I was loyal to my father, despite his hard hands, how I discovered my devotion to studying and learning… there are certain instincts, certain basic characteristics that you carry around with you, even when life takes a different course. I hadn’t envisioned becoming a priest, not even after releasing my heka.

I was grateful for the chances I’d been given- if life hadn’t taken this course, I still would be working at the lands, toiling and slaving over crops. I always thought that I became an adult the day I met the previous Pharaoh, who spoke to me in the lotus garden when his son was about to fall into the fountain. Since then I’ve realised that, despite being an adult, I wasn’t mature until I made love to him- Atemu. That moment, that moment when he cried out my name, loaded with need and desire, pain and despair behind his gasps, the intensity he dug his fingers into my back with- it was all and everything, all I wanted and everything I needed, that was the moment I matured.

As a young child, I knew next to nothing. I had some traits within me, my character that was building up as the years went by and I started to learn, not only from books, but also from life itself. Now I knew that my love and devotion, already present in my heart but strengthened by the experience, was forever. He was the one having faith in me, exposing his trust in me, giving himself to me. I would have faith in him for the rest of my life, placing all my love and trust in him in my hands, my work, and everything that I would do, until the moment I’d die and beyond.
As I hurried along to keep up with Set, disappearing into the night, talking about his strategies and plans to defeat the thief, I looked to my left, noticing that we were passing the small courtyard with the fountain. If there was a frown in my face, it was wiped away immediately, as always when I saw the garden. It was our little garden, the place where we gathered, the place where we met and where we bade each other good night. I couldn’t make out the fountain as it was dark, but I trusted the lotus flower to float along the water, giving off there scents to the chilly night sky.

I would serve my Pharaoh beyond the grave. I would serve him beyond this world, beyond time, beyond my abilities. He deserved nothing less, never to be betrayed, never to be disappointed. I clutched at the Rings, my fingers closing around the golden weight. I placed all my faith in him, my undying faith. If my spirit ka was needed in battle against the thief, my heart and my heka would be strengthened by my undying devotion to my Pharaoh. No matter how much hatred and evil the thief fed his monstrous Diabound, my Magus of Fantasy Illusion would shine with the light of hope and faith.

Pharaoh. Atemu. My soul will be your eternal servant.