Disclaimer - I don't own Yugioh or any characters herein. Don't sue; I'm broke.
Atemu could feel the hours counting down, minute by minute, and he dreaded the rising of the sun. For once, he felt afraid. He knew that, on the morrow, Mahaado would approach him in the throne room and request his permission to set his trap for the thief despite misgivings from Mana and from the Pharaoh himself. He would set off into the desert and perform his duty as he always did, to try to keep the Pharaoh and the kingdom safe.
And likely go to his death.
He didn't like to think about that, but it was a very real possibility, one that weighed heavy on his heart. He had already given the Priest his permission so that there would be no surprises; Mahaado had only to formally ask in front of the other Priests before he could slip off. Atemu hadn't wanted to tell him yes, had wanted to command him to remain in the Palace where he belonged, but his sense of duty told him that he had to snatch at any opportunity to destroy the thief that came up.
Even if it meant possibly sacrificing his childhood friend.
Every one of them was ready to lay down their life for their Pharaoh and for their country, and Atemu was no different. The gods had chosen him to lead his people, and he would have gladly given his life's blood to wipe the despicable thief's stain from the world and ensure the prosperity of Khemet; but it was that birth and that duty that chained him to his throne, keeping him in the city and throwing tougher and tougher decisions upon his already burdened shoulders. He felt old beyond his years, and whenever he gazed upon his reflection, he expected to see a wizened old man rather than a healthy man in the flush of his youth.
Sighing, Atemu brushed his fingers over the smooth, cool silk of his bedding, shifting onto his side restlessly. He would find no sleep, he knew, and yet he couldn't think of any way to occupy himself and keep his thoughts from swirling madly. He longed to seek out Mahaado, to express…
What? He wasn't sure, but there was something he wanted to say to the man, something important, and he was certain that if given the opportunity, he would be able to say what it was. However, Mahaado needed his rest, and Atemu refused to interrupt it. He knew the Priest had preparations to make and needed his sleep, and so he remained in his massive bed, empty and alone, staring out across the balcony at the flickering stars and trying to quiet the longing in his heart.
It had taken quite some time to free himself from Mana's arms, and even longer to quiet her protests. Unsurprisingly, she was completely against his decision, but in the end, he had been able to silence her, though he'd had to pull rank to do it. Mahaado had left her chambers to the sound of her petulant sniffling, and even now, the sound still haunted him.
It is the right decision, he insisted silently, though whether he was trying to reassure himself or was responding to Mana's grief, he was not sure. That alone made him hesitate, but only for a moment. He knew his duty, to Atemu and to the realm, and he would not flinch away from it, no matter what happened.
However, he couldn't – wouldn't – be able to leave without speaking to his Pharaoh. Atemu meant much more to him than just his liege; having grown up with the boy, watched over him since the Pharaoh's infancy, Mahaado had found himself becoming increasingly attached until one day, he was unable to deny the depth of his feelings. He had kept silent, knowing that any sort of relationship would not be viewed positively, but it burned. Oh, how it burned.
Tonight, however…well, he might never get another chance, and even if Atemu did not feel the same way…
He refused to follow that train of thought. The very notion of Atemu caring for him – loving him – made butterflies dance in his stomach and his pulse increase rapidly. Mahaado was not the sort to get his hopes up, but he couldn't help but wish…
He was outside of the Pharaoh's chambers now, and he hesitated, staring at the wide doors and wondering if perhaps this wasn't so brilliant a notion after all. Sure, he might not survive his encounter with the thief – though he had made plans even for that possibility; he always tried to cover every angle, however unpleasant – but if his confession fell upon empty ears or, worse yet, Atemu despised him for it…
It was a risk he had to take.
Taking a deep breath, he knocked.
Atemu kept his gaze cool, expression blank, while Mahaado knelt before the throne, requesting permission to face the thief and destroy him once and for all. It took every ounce of his willpower to grant it, to remain seated and not throw himself into the Priest's arms and beg him to stay, to steal one last kiss before his fears were realized. The other Priests were watching, and he couldn't make a spectacle of himself and damage both his pride and Mahaado's.
It didn't stop the tearing in his heart, though, or the sudden certain weight that this would be the last time he would ever gaze upon Mahaado's handsome face. Hands gripping the arms of the throne hard enough to whiten his knuckles, the Pharaoh studied the kneeling Priest, committing every inch to memory much as he had the night before, reliving every touch and caress and kiss. Tears suddenly stung his eyes and it became a fight to maintain his dignity.
After all, what else were his Priests there for except to do their duty and honor the gods and protect Khemet and its holy Pharaoh?
As Mahaado rose, Atemu found himself pushing off of the throne, taking careful, measured steps towards the now-wary Priest. Mahaado's eyes were questioning, even glinting with a touch of warning – don't do anything stupid, they said, people are watching – but Atemu didn't leave any room for excess thought. If he questioned himself, the moment would be over, and it would never be regained.
Reaching out, Atemu grasped Mahaado's arm in a friendly but firm gesture, appearing – from the outside – nothing more than a leader wishing his soldier luck. "Go with the gods," he murmured, sharing a smile that was meant for the Priest alone. "And return to us."
"I will do my best, my Pharaoh," Mahaado vowed, bowing his head before turning and heading out of the throne room. Atemu's eyes followed his every movement and, despite his best attempts at hiding his emotions, his fear and grief were evident for all to see. It was chalked up to the Pharaoh's worries about his Priest and the looming threat of the thief; nothing more.
Atemu had been ready to doze off when he heard the knock on his door. Startled, half-formed images fleeing, his eyes snapped open, blinking several times to become accustomed to the relative brightness of the room. Pushing himself up to a sitting position, he stared over at the door as if it were a foreign object, wondering who would be interrupting him at this time of night.
Perhaps…
Not willing to dwell on unlikely circumstances, Atemu called out, "One moment!" Wondering where his guards were and why they hadn't come in to announce his late night visitor, Atemu rolled out of bed, scrubbing a hand through his tri-colored hair in an attempt to smooth it out a little. The effort was wasted; there was nothing short of a shower and a comb that could save his appearance. Sighing, he trudged over to the door, opening it.
And stopped dead, blinking up at the stoic form of Mahaado standing in the doorway. For a moment, he thought he was still half-dreaming, and he went so far as to pinch his arm and hiss softly at the pain that followed.
He was most certainly awake.
"Mahaado…"
"My Pharaoh." Mahaado's face was expressionless, his tone firm and business-like. "I apologize for disturbing you at such an hour. May I come in?"
"Of course," Atemu replied after a moment, shaking his head as he took a step back, waiting for Mahaado to enter his chambers. Closing the door behind him, the Pharaoh turned to regard the Priest with curious crimson eyes, his entire body screaming with the question he couldn't seem to ask.
Mahaado shifted his weight, the only physical admission to his nervousness. "As you know, my Pharaoh…"
"Call me Atemu," he interrupted gently.
Mahaado blinked, his cheeks coloring faintly. "Atemu," he corrected. "As you know, I am leaving tomorrow, and…I may not return." There was no use shying away from it or candy-coating his words, not now, not when he had come this far. It had been surprisingly hard to even bring himself to stand outside the Pharaoh's doors; now that he was inside, there was nothing stopping him.
Atemu swallowed heavily. "I know."
"There is something I must tell you."
Silence stretched between them as Atemu waited, patiently at first, and then feeling like a child being denied a sweet. Raising an eyebrow as imperiously as he could and fighting the urge to kick his feet and demand the rest of it, he said, voice gentle, "Yes?"
Mahaado took a deep breath, his dark eyes piercing. "I love you, my Ph—Atemu."
Atemu felt confused, as if unable to believe what he was hearing. "I love you, too, Mahaado," he began, but the Priest cut him off.
"No. I love you." The major obstacle was overcome, now, and the rest of the words spilled out easily. "I have for a long time, and I cannot bear to…to die without you knowing."
"You might not die…"
"Don't. I have already accepted the possibility, and there is no use denying it." Mahaado lowered his gaze finally, bowing his head, waiting for the Pharaoh to reject him and send him from his chambers with harsh words.
Those words never came.
The sound of Mana's wailing filled his world, spinning him around and around until he felt dizzy enough to fall. Staring almost blankly at the massive stone blocking the cave entrance, Atemu felt tempted to call forth the gods and blast it away, to delve into the cave and discover what had happened for himself despite the overwhelming evidence.
Mahaado couldn't be dead. He just couldn't.
And yet he, too, felt that emptiness clawing at the part of his heart where Mahaado had been.
Mana was trying to claw through the stone, forgetting about her own magical powers in her crushing grief, and Atemu gently took her hands, pulling her bloodied fingers away. He wanted to dig with her, to fight his way into the cave, but he knew exactly what they would find and, somehow, that made it all the more worse.
"No!" she cried, burying her face in his chest and sobbing. "No, no, no!" she repeated, as if her words could deny what had happened and bring her teacher back to life.
"No," he mimicked softly, tears in his voice that he could not shed. He was Pharaoh, and he had to remain strong, no matter what, even in the face of personal loss. Phantom hands smoothed his hair, lips cold with death brushed over his forehead, and Atemu bowed his head, overcome with anguish.
A part of him had known that their one night together would be all they would have, but he hadn't wanted to accept it, had told himself repeatedly that Mahaado would defeat the thief and return victorious. Reality was much harsher than his dreams, and he had no option except to strengthen his spine and exact his revenge upon Bakura. Arms tightening around Mana, he didn't even register the fact that he was growling.
The thief would pay.
"I love you, too," Atemu replied finally, and there was no hesitation in his admission. It was something he had known for a long time but had never entertained, never having thought that Mahaado would ever share such feelings. He wanted to scream at Mahaado, to demand to know why he'd waited until now to tell him, but he kept his silence; there was a place and time for such accusations, and this wasn't it.
Raising his eyes again, the Priest remained silent for a few moments, taking in his Pharaoh's words. Reaching out almost hesitantly, he touched Atemu's cheek, fingers trailing down the smooth skin and coming to a stop on his bare shoulder. Not knowing the words to say, the practiced speeches slipping through his fingers like sand, the Priest decided he could only speak with his actions. He would show the Pharaoh how much he loved him and make the most of their night together, and sleep be damned.
Drawing the Pharaoh in, pressing their lower halves tightly against each other with a deliberateness that felt foreign to Mahaado, the Priest dipped his head, pausing a few inches away from warm lips, breath uneven. He waited to be pushed away, for Atemu to renounce his words and send him back to his chambers, but instead, the Pharaoh closed the distance between them and kissed him.
This is what it's like to be happy, Mahaado thought as he wrapped his arms around Atemu, never dreaming that the Pharaoh was thinking those exact words.