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He is Pharaoh.
The Morning and the Evening Star, the emblem of Horus and Ra. The land of Egypt rests on his shoulders. He is a god.
A part of him has always dreamed of this. He was born to it, even without knowing his own father: his soul is built for power, his mind shaped and molded toward the wielding of the rod and flail. All he must do is spread out his hand, and nations fall: the clenching of a fist, and councilors tremble.
He has given himself the ultimate position, and he has done right by it. His ancestors would be proud. His father, damn his blackened heart, would be proud.
But beneath his throne, in the deepest recesses of his own heart, there lies a familiar pain. It is an ache that can never be healed, a wound that will never scar. It does not even have a name. No one can say the name, can they, because to say the name would be to disobey his own proclamation. He remembers writing the edict. He remembers taking the chisel into his own hands to erase the name from the cartouche. He remembers collecting the Millennium Items, staring at their shining bronze, and forcing down the pain again.
Atem . A whisper in the night. A faint, distant thought. He does not know when it will come, he does not know when it will strike him. The first nights, he could hear the weeping across the palace and saw Mana’s eyes, red-rimmed and puffy, in the mornings. He prided himself that he did not give in to such wanton emotion. He was Pharaoh now, and he had responsibilities.
It is not about him. It is not about what he wants. He must maintain his hold on this country, for the revelations of Kul-Elna and the dissolution of the Millennium Items have threatened to split the kingdoms apart. He hasn’t even been able to think about his own potential heirs.
Then, under the comforting eyes of the night, he weakens. It is only then, when he is alone in bed, that his control slips. He resists it for so long, but as he wavers between waking and dreaming, it slips.
There is a face, both strong and gentle at once. Eyes of shocking violet, hair of black but with the shimmer of colors beyond imagination. It is the boy-king, the one whose name no longer exists, and when Set dreams, he resists him.
Atem is soft. Atem is still here. But Set cannot let himself step any closer, because if he admits that he wants this, then all is lost.
Atem touches his cheek. It is perfectly soft, perfectly warm. He feels real. Set cannot let this happen.
Atem lifts up his hand, lips pressing against his palm. Set can feel them, their plush invitation, the way Atem himself folds so close to Set’s limbs. No one has looked at Set like this, no one has understood him like this. It hurts. It hurts so badly. But if he admits this, if he allows himself to mourn as heavily as Mana or Isis or Mahaad, then the entire nation will fall into chaos. He is Pharaoh. He can never forget that.
But Atem is here, now.
Atem is coiling an arm around him, murmuring softly. Atem is leaning against him, trusting him. Atem is reaching up, stroking the delicate curve of his ear.
Set cannot–
But Atem is here.
And Atem is kissing him.
That is the end of it, then: Atem is kissing him, and Set can feel himself (in this dream, in a half-life that cannot be real because Atem is gone forever) losing control. There is no control now: Atem has him, Atem is kissing him, and while it starts sweetly Atem is the one who leads. Set has been leading a nation for so long now, he knows that there is no weakness in him, and yet Atem is the one who claims him. Atem strokes his neck, deepening the pressure, and Set has one final thought that he should stop before he gives in.
Atem is here. Atem is his.
Finally, he does not care about Egypt. Now he does not care about his work. He does not even care about the future, because the only thing that exists now is himself and Atem. He hadn’t allowed himself to realize for so long: the vacuum in his chest, the gaping hole, the void of nothing, is finally filled for this moment.
No one has been able to replace this. The absence of Atem outweighs any possible replacement.
He does not know if he will remember this. But Atem is in his arms, and for this moment, it is enough.
+++
Seto did not expect the arguing to start right away. For Atem to come back was astounding, yes, but Seto wasn’t expecting Atem to fawn over him. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want resounding arguments, either, so at the core of it he wasn’t sure what he wanted. But Atem was here now, in the seat beside him on the jet, and that was a good thing.
It had been a bit complicated, what with interdimensional travel, the confirmation of a distant network of interlaced realities, the slow erosion of the conventionally-understood precepts of quantum mechanics. So be it. Atem was in the jet, and Seto was taking him back to Domino.
“So, when we get back, you’ll have a position in the company. We have to give you a position somewhere, but once you prove you’re actually the duelist of legend–”
“I don’t need to be in the company.” His voice was odd, so different from Yugi’s. Seto knew this, but even so, to hear the words from his own lips made Seto hesitate.
“Of course you do. We administer the official rankings anyway. Having you on staff will make things a bit easier.”
“I’m going to stay with Yugi.”
That was terrible. Seto could not explain why, or how it influenced his own plans, but he knew it was terrible . He sat up, scoffing.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous, Kaiba. If I’m going back to Domino, I’m going to stay with Yugi.”
“You’ve just come through an interdimensional portal that I ripped into the fabric of reality. You’re a data point. I need to keep an eye on you, and to do that, you need to be where I can see you.”
“Kaiba–”
“Yugi.” A deeper scowl, the pause of regret. “ Atem. I am not flying you back to Japan just to let you escape again.”
“Fighting harder doesn’t make it any simpler.”
“If you would just see sense, it wouldn’t be so complicated.”
“You’re making it complicated with your insistence.”
“I’m not insisting , I’m right .”
“Kaiba.” Atem’s expression was hard to read, but he turned, pushing himself up from his seat. Seto was prepared to argue, to tell him to sit down while the plane was in motion, but then Atem was gripping his upper arm.
Egypt had been nice. The fake Egypt, whatever it was called, that had been nice. And there had been a few precious moments there. But here, on the plane, with his ire up, Seto struggled to accept this pressure.
“You’re being willfully ignorant, Atem.”
“You’re being a control freak.” Atem’s voice was lower, and Seto was unprepared for the lunge: Atem’s hand slid into his hair, dragging Seto closer, and then Atem was kissing him.
It was not a sweet thing. There were not the tender whispers of lovers at night. But there was ferocity, which he recognized, and there was meanness. There was the bite of an Atem from long, long ago. Seto could not even find himself for a moment, caught in dreams and half-memories and echoes from a self that didn’t even sound like him, and he felt himself short of breath when Atem actually pulled away. What was that? Was that a kiss? Really?
His dazed look must have pleased Atem, because the other man smiled in victory. Atem followed the trail of Seto’s hairline, finally circling his ear to make Seto shiver. “People didn’t argue with me like this in Aaru.”
There was an edge of danger there, enough to make Seto grunt in dismissal. “Yes, well-”
“I missed it. I–” For the first time, Atem actually looked away, but didn’t remove his hand. When he looked back, his fierce aggression had faded. “I think I’d rather fight with you than get along with anyone else.”
Well.
That was.
That was practically a proposal, wasn’t it.
But he couldn’t move too fast. Seto stared at him, trying to filter through all the possible responses, then finally nodded once.
“So you’re moving in, then.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Come on. I have more than enough room at the manor–”
“I’m still staying with Yugi.”
“Atem!”
It was fortunate that Roland interrupted in time. There were other things to be decided, after all. And there would be time enough.
It could be a long flight back to Domino.