The World War Two exhibit was both better and worse than Damien expected. It was a large square room at the corner of two corridors. The walls were dark concrete and small lights were set up to illuminate the displays. Half of the room was full of empty glass cases that lined one wall. From the labels, they had held model aircraft of the time which were most likely flying around the building instead of resting in their boxes. The other hall of the room was things that Damien hadn't wanted to see. One wall was diagrams and recounts of the nuclear bombs with images that now moved. Clouds of smoke filling the sky, rubble falling. He could barely stand to look at it, but that drew his attention to the last wall of the room. It was that wall that made him pale.
There was a large black and white photo of a field of trenches. It was taken from an aerial view and he watched as the small black silhouettes of men charged at each other under grey skies. Uniforms barely indistinguishable as the guns fired audibly and the shells dropped. Around the large image were several smaller ones of similar scenes. A side on view of a muddy plain that was littered with shell holes. Men scrabbled past, sliding in the mud as they lifted their guns to fire. Another image was of a line of artillery. Groups of men loading and firing again and again. Explosion after explosion. Bang. Bang. Bang. The mud sprayed and men went flying.
"Damien! Dami! Beloved, look at me. Dami". There was hands on his shoulders, turning him away from the pictures. Ahk was gripping him tightly, green eyes wide. Damien blinked, the suffocating fog shifting slightly in his mind. The sounds of gunfire and explosions still ringing in his ears but slightly quieter.
"Ahk", he gasped, hand reaching up to grab at the other's wrists. He drew in air greedily, inhaling in great gasps that were a thread away of turning into heaving sobs. It was only his awareness of the pressure of those hands on his shoulders that stopped the tears from falling. More shocked and panicked than sad. For a second, it felt like those hands were the only things holding him up. Then Damien choked on an inhale and he was staggering slightly to the side. Ahk steered him to where a metal bench was set in the centre of the room and pushed him gently down. Damien drew a ragged breath and let go to run his hands over his face. He pressed his fingers into his eyes, rubbing into the bridge of his nose and over his temples.
"Beloved". Ahk's voice was a gentle mummer. His hand was resting groaningly between Damien's shoulder blades.
"Sorry. I was overwhelmed for a second", Damien sighed and straightened. He glanced over at the images around the room and this time he was able to stop the instinctive panic from gripping his throat. The fact that the photos were without colour helped create a little bit of distance.
Ahk was looking too, lips thinned with tension and eyes wide. It was almost horror, almost curiosity. The horror seemed to win and his brow furrowed into a familiar deep fury. It was one of the things Damien found fascinating about Ahkmenrah. The man reacted with anger, when something displeased him or set him back, he grew angry about it. It was not blind rage, like a spoilt child, but a deep and stubborn rage that would bubble and simmer behind those green eyes. He had been a pharaoh, a king who controlled a country and could wage war with a wave of his hand. That rage was boxed up and set to simmer when needed. It fuelled his spirit and gave power to his words. There was very little Ahk would not do or achieve when he wanted. He taught himself English from books because he was angry that he could not read Damien's name. A tablet built to cross the barrier between life and death just so Ahk could have a soulmate also powered and controlled a whole museum. He was the type of man who went and got what he wanted, without letting anything stand in his way. In someways that could be a bad thing, but Ahk was not a man without empathy. He held empathy and respect for life and didn't let his anger consume him to put his own needs before that of those who followed him. It had been why he was one of the most just and competent rulers of his family line despite his younger age and short rule. Damien was glad that this man was on his side rather than against.
"The gods are cruel to forsake the world into horrors like this", Ahkmenrah muttered bitterly. "My people never suffered like this under my rein. It is despicable how mankind seeks new ways destroy itself". In the largest photo, a shell exploded and dirt and mud came spilling from the frame to scatter across the floor. Damien flinched and there was a second of realisation on Ahk's face. Pale and traumatising realisation that the blonde wished never had occurred. He knew that it would have happened eventually. You can only hide so much when the information was everywhere. It was only sheer luck that the museum of New York didn't have a section on World War Two, but it had computers and pop up exhibits. Ahk would have found out and Damien never really tried to hide it. They all had died, it was not a competition on who's death was worse. Death was always the same. Painful, quiet and lonely. (Maybe that was why they were granted an afterlife together. Why Ahk's parents sought so hard for a way for their son to be happy even after death).
"Damien", Ahk's voice was quiet, green eyes searching as they flickered back to his face. "Beloved. Did you die there? Were you killed by one of those things?"
Damien sighed deeply, one hand running through blonde hair as he nodded. "It was a long time ago. Many people died like that. I was not special. In some ways, it was quick. I barely felt a thing". He tried to smile but it fell flat under Ahk's devastated expression. "Ahk", he reached out to cup the man's face in his hands. "It is alright. This is all history now".
"It is history", Ahk replied bitterly, face scrunching up. "You weren't even buried Dami. Your remains desecrated and forgotten. It hurts me to think of you like that. You should have had the world, everything. How can such a weapon be created? Do people have no respect for life? When I killed on the battlefield, It was with a sword. I felt the life leave my opponent and it is a weight I carry. It is with respect and honour that I fought. Not this. This is not war. This is slaughter and murder. How can you respect and honour yourself and your opponent when you are destroying them so?" The idea seemed so confusing and alien to him that he looked vaguely sick. It must be very unsettling to find the future so full of destruction that went directly against the beliefs your culture held.
"We should not have come this way. We should have gone past the main entrance, screw Kahmanrah's men", Damien huffed. He stood up and folded his arms around Ahk in a tight hug. For a second the man stood there, still as he tried to absorb the horrors he was seeing, then he hugged back and clung tightly. "I am so sorry", Damien rasped into the man's neck.
"It is I who should be saying that", Ahk's reply was muffled. "I didn't have you then, but I have you now and I promise you that you shall never experience such things again. The wrath of Seth as my shadow. It just infuriates me".
Damien pulled away. "As it infuriates me the manner of your death. Death is what it is Ahk. If I could, I would have turned back time and stopped your brother from murdering you. That you were betrayed and killed infuriates me, as much as my death infuriates you. But it is all history now and we are here. Don't let this concern you anymore".
Ahk didn't reply, green eyes staring into blue. When Damien finished talking he leaned forwards and cupped the blonde's cheek as he kissed him. It was gentle, reassuring and treasuring. Damien relaxed into it and wrapped his arms loosely around the tanned man's waist as he kissed back with equal love. "Come", Ahk whispered as they parted. His hand dropping down to take Damien's arm. "Let me remove you from your nightmares". Then he was gently leading him from the room. The blonde following him, as he knew he always would.
unedited
bit emotional there. Ahk and Dami are both traumatised boys.
I love writing Ahk as slightly dark. History is dark and bloody and vicious. Rulers were spoilt, possessive and wrathful. Ahk is all of those but he uses those factors in ways that make him a driven person. Not the best person, but who is? I love writing him as the powerful and ambitious pharaoh he was. Obviously, a much darker character than he was portrayed in the children's films. I think it makes him much more engaging.
what do you think?
YOU ARE READING
Night life || Ahkmenrah
Fanfiction"For what it's worth, I am glad you were the one to find me". "I think I was looking for you before I knew what to look for". Ahkmanrah x Male oc. Night at the museum.
