Chapter Text
Everything in Egypt had it's place. If you were to ask someone who knew, who had been there; you'd be told that the Gods never left anything unchecked. The idea that there was something biological that could define you other than what you knew was a maddening concept, but the 'secondary biology' went as accepted by the people of Kemet as the seasons themselves.
The majority of civilians were tested at the age of ten, taken into the sprawling capitol city of Waset to be tested by the High Priest of the Pharaoh himself. It was a day of celebration, and families would hold thier heads high no matter the news. Surely there were those who rejected thier newfound place in society, but most were greatful.
The betas were the most common, taking all sorts of roles in Egypt. Shopkeepers, scribes, farmers, and beggars. You'd find betas among each caste and walk of life. Betas weren't considered lower class like omegas or expected to rise above the rest like an Alpha, and even some of the Royal council themselves were of the Beta classification.
Naturally, those of Royal blood were expected to be Alphas, one of the rarer classifications. Alphas were the peak of perfection, and thier rarity in society only helped to further that belief. The first reported Alpha was a Pharaoh, and it was thought that the alpha gene was handed down by Horus himself. Being tested as an alpha meant your place in society was assured, and you were often given a job that reflected your higher status. It was rare to be an alpha, but not completely unheard of.
The final classification and the rarest of all was that of the omega, a peculiar class that would go into heat regardless of gender. Omegas gave off pheramones during this heat that would send any Alphas nearby into an uncontrollable lust, and if they were bitten on the neck during the act of intimacy they would be bound to that Alpha forever. Omegas lived hard lives, often finding work in the harem if they were lucky, and it wasn't strange to see them selling thier bodies in poorer villages. Despite being rare, the omega classification was the least desirable by people. To be an omega meant you were snubbed and looked down upon, no matter who you were.
Since he was young, Atem had grown up hearing of these things in preperation for his ascent onto the throne some day. He was told by his advisors and his father all his life that he would most likely present as an Alpha, as his father had before him. He looked forward to the test, as all children did, and his father had offered to administer it personally so as to be the first to share the assured good news with the rest of Egypt.
Nobody except the innermost council knows fully what went on that day, the test results and ensuing festival stated that the young prince was indeed an alpha, though nobody was ever shown the scroll with his official results. By the time he became King it had all but been forgotten, his classification in society set by birth with no need to question it. Unfortunately, some tales start with a bang rather than a whisper.
This particular tale began with a crash and a shatter in one of the most guarded buildings in the heart of the capitol city. The Pharaoh was grown now, the events of his past buried deep in the recesses of his mind where they stayed overshadowed by the duties he was to perform. It was the night of a grand festival, the streets alive with merriment and joy. The drink flowed free enough and for once even the Priests had found thier way into the heart of the crowd to join them.
Waset seemed as a beating heart was for just one night, unified and rhythmic save for one man. This man moved like a ghost through the streets, powered by fire, blood, and fury. It was hard to argue through the tales of him that he was even human, and upon hearing them he would happily agree with the speculation. Kemet treated him like a God in his own right, and it suited his arrogance to feel on par with the Pharaoh himself.
He often found the secondary biology to be something of a cruel joke, but he couldn't deny it gave him something to brag about. To think that the sole survivor of a massacre of thieves and beggars was an Alpha? He imagined it really did put him as high as the God-King himself. At the very least he'd love to see the look on the faces of the smug priests in the palace as he hand delivered the news, right before waltzing into the palace and slitting the Pharaoh's throat on his own fancy sheets. As the streets thrummed with bodies and laughter, he weaved through them seamlessly. He had one destination in mind this night, and he'd challenged himself to reach it.
'He retires early during a festival in his honor. What a fine King.' The tone of sarcasm in his own thought was accompanied by a knowing smirk. He'd studied the Pharaoh as attentively as any loyal citizen could, though he was never shy of his motives when asked. 'I'm going to scatter him, as Set did to Osiris.' The idea was comforting, and he almost laughed as he imagined his priests trying desperately to reassemble the parts. It was his favorite daydream, the idea of killing the Pharaoh. Sometimes it almost replaced the smell of burning flesh and the sound of screams. Almost. He'd use the Pharaoh's blood to wipe the images from his eyes as he set his people free once and for all.
The palace was heavily guarded even on a bad day, but the festival kept enough of the guards busy that slipping into the gardens was easier than it should have been. It was almost ironic that the entry point for someone seen as so vile by the Pharaoh was so beautiful. The grounds themselves were a paradise, the scent of fresh flowers gently passing through the air gave it an ethereal feel, and above his head was the sky in perfect view. The Thief briefly wondered what it would be like to lay under those stars, before squashing the wistful notion like it was a pest under his sandal. He'd have time to think of stars in the Duat, once his revenge was through. Such flights of fancy would be a welcome distraction before Ammit devoured him whole, and he held no illusions that his heart would weigh lighter than a feather after the blood of the Living Horus graced his hands. It didn't matter as long as his people were safe in the Field of Reeds, and if he accomplished that he would welcome the unforgiving maw of the Goddess.
The walls of the palace stood tall against the flora, beautiful and imposing with thier painted stones. Most people would be awestruck to be standing where The Bandit King stood now, and he laughed to himself as he gathered the tools hed brought to scale the walls. He'd have his audience with the God-King of Egypt by force, and he lived for the look of shock and fear that he would surely afford him when he killed him in his own bed. He hoped he would try and scream so he could snuff out that breath with his own hands.
Atem was tired. His body and mind felt years older than him, and the festival seemed joyless to him despite it's outward allure. He had felt something pulling at the corners of his consciousness for days now, and counting those days only served to make it worse. He was many things he needed to be, a fair king and a gentle hand; but the one thing he needed most he lacked entirely. Being an Alpha shouldn't matter, he was a Pharaoh first, but he never could shake the memory of the fleeting disappointment on his father's face when he'd seen the results firsthand. Omega. The first Omega in any position of power ever heard of, and it was likely the closest guarded secret in Egypt. His heats were suffered locked in his room, and the only person allowed near him was Mahaad due to the indifference his status as a beta afforded him. He couldn't even speak with Set on those days, though he didn't think he wanted to. Set had presented as an Alpha, and though Atem should have been proud of his friend it only made his own prognosis feel worse. He sighed, toying with the cord of the puzzle; the weighted gold on his neck cold and heavy despite the heat from his hands.
He was a God, Horus made flesh; and the people dancing in the streets were his people and wards. 'So why is it when I look at them I feel so detached?' This festival was on the eve of the day he'd been announced as an Alpha, and he couldn't help feeling like the idea that they were celebrating a lie made the whole thing meaningless. Sure, most people used it as an excuse to honor him for all his accomplishments; and he would never deny his people a chance to celebrate.
He waved away the thought with a delicate hand, as if it were a plume of temple smoke. From his position at the window he could look down into the streets into the throng of people below, and he imagined himself down there with them. In these fantasies he wasn't a living God or an Omega, but a man like the rest. He imagined dancing and drinking, wanting for nothing and trusting that the Gods would provide for him somehow. He imagined looking up at the palace walls and feeling hope, and immediately wondered if he was worthy of it. His people honored him, praised him, and he sat feeling worthless.
"It's not as if I have nobody to talk to." He said softly, remembering lazy games of Senet with Mahaad and Mana, or walks out in the garden with Set. He had plenty of people in his court who would give him all the hours in the day to listen if he asked. The problem, it seemed, was the inability he had to tell them what was really wrong with him. It was too childish to mention you felt alone when you ruled an entire country, and even if they were aware of his secondary biology it wasn't as if any of them could truly empathize. He sighed, standing up from his place near the window and taking to his bed, removing the gold from his wrists and neck save for the heavy cord that held the puzzle in place.
He never took it off even when he slept, save for one night when he'd first recieved it. He'd woken screaming that night, dreams plagued by shadows and demons that reached out to tear him apart. If he shut his eyes he could still see the images from those dreams, and he never wanted to be vulnerable to them again. He set the jewlery on a table near his bed, making sure they weren't in too much danger of falling off if he moved in the night.
If his timing was right, he was almost garunteed to knock something off the table despite his best efforts. His heats had a cycle, and tonight marked the beginnings of his own personal hell. He could already feel the telltale coil of warmth in the pit of his stomach, his heart beating far too loudly for the silence in the room. He took a quick glance at the door, almost as if he was trying to confirm that he was alone. He'd normally have Mahaad posted nearby, but he'd sent him with Mana to enjoy the festival. His stubborn pride was all he had left, and he'd be damned if he didn't handle this heat alone.
With a shaky breath he slid his linens off and approached the bed, one foot under the covers when he heard the noise, the telltale scraping of something against the wall followed by a crash and a shatter, and as he turned towards the window to look he was met with the last person he ever wanted to see in his bedchamber; or at all really.
The Bandit King moved like a shadow, perched on the windowsill one moment and gliding almost soundlessly to the floor the next, scarred mouth turned upwards in a cruel imitation of humor as the Pharaoh stood still. He approached like the worst sort of wraith, and for a brief moment Atem wasn't sure which man in this room was truly the vessel for Gods.
"I'll have you executed." Atem said, attempting to find his composure somewhere in between the wide strides of the thief. "Killed by morning." he added, for clarity. His nakedness should have brought him shame, but he shoved it down to the edges of his thoughts. The situation was bad enough as it was, but a bit of godly nudity paled in comparison to going into heat in front of a man who swore to kill him. Needless to say, he made sure his tone was threatening. The intruder only seemed amused, which was a real pity considering the effort it all took.
The Bandit King chuckled, the sound somehow sounding both rich and rasped. "I'll be gone by morning, and you won't be calling anyone. Tell me, My King, does my presence here strike fear into the heart of a God?" His words were sharp knives on velvet strings, pointed and cruel yet somehow still enticing.
Atem frowned at the thought, almost backing up before deciding it would make the situation laughably worse if he faltered at all. "No, it does not. Nor do the stories of you, or the warnings I've heard. You don't frighten me, Thief." It was a chore to keep his voice level, and for some reason the thought that he'd been wallowing in his own self-pity moments before kept bubbling up in his thoughts. It was as if this intrusion was punishment for being ungrateful. That thought alone was what made him stay his ground instead of calling for Mahaad, because what sort of King couldn't deal with a simple thief by himself? It was a uselessly moot point that Mahaad likely wasn't in a position to assist even if he did call him, and calling his guards potentially risked inviting alphas into a situation where they were certainly not helpful or welcome. The Thief King didn't need any of this information of course, and like hell was Atem going to offer any of it up to him.
"Why have you chosen tonight to attempt my assasination? Aren't there more enjoyable things to do than trespass during a festival?" Atem gestured to the sounds filtering through the now broken window, trying his best to sound unimpressed. This man was unstable and dangerous, but if Atem could keep him talking then it would stay the knife that was destined for his throat by at least a few moments. It didn't bear mentioning that the coil of warmth in his core grew stronger by the minute, and his was starting to feel somewhat dizzy. If he could excecute his own body for treason, now would be the time.
The Thief King threw his head back and laughed. "A festival that honors you, My King. What better night to spill your blood all over this room? Do you really think I'd be so stupid as to wait when your guards aren't distracted? You insult me, Pharaoh. Still.." He trailed off as if assessing the situation for the first time, truly looking at the man in front of him. It wasn't as if he was unattractive, kohl still framing narrowed red eyes, and a muscular build despite surely never seeing a day of work. He was short and delicate but still definitively masculine, and that ridiculous tri-colour hair looked soft despite the style it was in. Had they been different people, the Thief King might have complimented his beauty or even taken him to bed. Ludicrous, considering who he was, and suddenly the fact that he'd been thinking about it at all irritated him to the point of frowning. "You're unfittingly bewitching for someone whose entrails are about to decorate his own bedroom wall. It infuriates me."
Now it was Atem's turn to laugh, though the sound came out choked and bitter. "You trespass into my room, threatening my life like a madman..." He paused, suddenly feeling the need to cover himself. The dizziness was suddenly overwhelming and he felt himself falling, reaching out towards the bed to catch himself so he'd at least have something steady to hold onto. He heard the Thief laugh, but he didn't dare look up at him. He could at least hold onto his dignity that way. Besides, he'd surely noticed by now that Atem wasn't normal, and it was only by the grace of the Gods themselves that it'd taken this long.
"Get out before you find yourself dismembered in my stead, Thief." He ground the words out, covering himself finally with a sheet from his bed and using the hand that wasn't holding it up to brandish the puzzle like the weapon he knew it to be. Despite his flushed features he hoped he looked fierce, because he'd certainly sounded it. "Now." He added, for emphasis alone. He tried his best to make it commanding.
The Thief King had stopped laughing the moment the Pharaoh put his hands on that gold. It wasn't fear that stopped him, but fury that he would even dare try to use the Sennen Puzzle at all. He could practically smell the blood of his people covering the damn gold, and here was this sorry excuse for a King trying to threaten him with it. He took two steps forward, pressing the Pharaoh against the side of the bed with the intent to cause him to buckle backwards. "Do you have any idea who I am? Do you really think that's a trinket you're holding? Do you know ANYTHING?" Each question was punctuated by him getting closer to the Pharaoh, and despite his obvious anger the shorter boy wasn't fighting back like he should have been. It was when the Thief was almost on top of him that he smelled it, the sickeningly sweet scent of flowers underneath the myrrh of the Pharaoh's perfume oil. He immediately recoiled with something resembling a snarl.
"You're an Omega!?" He would have found it in him to laugh if he weren't so dumbfounded by the sheer irony. The God-King of Egypt was an omega. He'd always thought that being an Alpha put him on par with the Pharaoh, but now that he knew he was above him it made his little biological victory even sweeter. His cruel smirk returned full force like it had never been gone. "Nobody has any idea what you are, do they? No wonder your threats are so empty. You're in heat." He leaned down to emphasize the last three words against the Pharaoh's ear, amusement doubling only when the other man literally shivered.
Atem let out something between a hiss and a groan as he used the leverage offered to him by the other backing up to try and roll out from under the Thief, but he was dizzy and hot and his limbs weren't working like they should. "Silence. I'm still your Pharaoh, and you will release me this inst-" He was interrupted by a calloused hand on his throat, not enough to do anything serious except provide pressure and effectively stop him from talking. "You're all talk, aren't you? Everyone in this palace is nothing but talk." He pressed his thumb into the flesh, feeling the thrum of the Pharaoh's pulse underneath it. He had him right where he wanted him, it wouldn't be hard to kill him right here while he was dazed and needy; but why bother when he could thoroughly humiliate him instead? "Do you know why I know what you are?" He started, relieving the pressure from his thumbs while the other man took a sharp breath while he was able. "I can smell it on you. You're the Pharaoh, yes. Everybody blindly obeys you for you are the Living Horus... So what does that make me?" He laughed, releasing his grip on Atem's throat entirely just to prove his own implied point.
Atem found himself briefly unable to think, the implications in the Thief's voice giving him all the information he needed to know. This man was likely to kill him, and in the briefest moments of contact he almost let him. Someone dangerously close to choking you shouldn't feel good, yet he was so lost in the feeling of being touched that the loss of the hand almost made him groan involuntarily. It really only meant the Gods were cruel, because nobody but an alpha would have made his own body so traitorus. "It makes you arrogant, deranged, and severely committing treason. If my threats are empty, then yours are worse. Weren't you going to splatter me about my own walls earlier?" The defiance in his voice was tangible, and impressive considering how much his instincts were telling him to give in. Luckily for him, it seemed the Thief hadn't lost his mind to pheromones yet either. In any other circumstance he'd be impressed at how stubborn they both were.
"I have a better idea, now that I know what I know." He dragged a hand lazily up the Pharaoh's bare thigh, mentally taking note of the softness of his skin and the small intake of breath he tried to hide. "Do you know what that is, my King?" He let his hand travel upwards slowly, teasingly, daring Atem to stop him and smirking when he didn't move at all. "I'm going to make you so lost until you're begging for me. I'm going to make you ache for the touch of my hands. I'm going to reduce the Living Horus to a subserviant mess. And you're going to let me, aren't you?" His tone had all but lost it's edges, all velvet and silk. Atem didn't know which of them he hated more.
"In the end, you'd still be serving me. Do what you will, then." Atem's tone was purposefully flippant, slipping his eyes shut and turning his head to the side in a show of defiance. If he could play this in his favour then he would, and he wouldn't give the other man the satisfaction of thinking he'd won. If he wanted him to beg, Atem would keep his mouth shut. The Bandit King would have to work for his results, whether they were rooted in pleasure or pain. Atem didn't have to feel like he was losing a battle if he told himself he wasn't in the mood to fight.
"If that's the way you choose to see it, then. All I see is your submission, and killing your pride is just as satisfactory as killing you would be... Tonight, at least." Neither of them were fully in thier right minds, the floral scent of pheremones weighed heavy on the The Thief King's mind as he fought to keep himself level. His hand hadn't stopped it's ascent, soft skin giving way to something hardened and heated, and he brushed a thumb over the head of it softly before traveling back down in one languid stroke. Atem let out a hiss of breath, arching his hips up before he could stop himself. "Straight to the point, are we?" That damnable hand didn't stop, and Atem let his hips rise and fall at a suitible pace with the strokes as he actually studied the man laying over him. His fingers were rough, and there was something intoxicating about watching someone else's hand between his legs.
"Did you want this to feel like romance, Pharaoh?" The mocking statement drew him from his reverie, but the hand and his hips didn't still. "Of course not. Not from you. I'd be worried if you- Oh." Somehow in the middle of his sentence the thief had found the underside of his shaft to trace with a finger, up and back again before resuming his pointed strokes. "The next time you open your mouth Pharaoh, it'd better be to scream my name." Atem almost snorted despite the dizzying heat and the hand on his dick.
Call his name? He'd never given him a name to call! "If you think I'd scream Thief in the throes of passion then you're a bigger idiot than we took you for." The Thief King stilled his hand contemplatively, but his smirk didn't waver. "Fitting, since I intend to steal something precious from you. But you can address me as Apep. From one God to another?" Atem scoffed, but it turned into a moan when the stroking resumed full force, and the hand that wasn't on him found his nipple in a shameless move to destroy any thoughts he had left to formulate. His mind was quickly succumbing to his heat, lost in the talented hands even moreso than he had been in his own every month prior. If this was what it felt like to let an Alpha touch him, he might start rethinking the way he'd been handling things. His breath was coming in small pants, body slick with sweat as let himself drown in sensation. It was gone as soon as it had started.
"What are you.." He started, sitting up as he watched The Thief King rise off the bed and adjust any clothing that had gone askew. "Oh? Didn't I tell you Pharaoh? I'm going to make you crave me. I thought you were good at playing games?" He laughed, giving the flustered omega one last look before stepping up on the sill of the window to leave from where he'd come. He was halfway back outside before he turned back one last time. "Thanks for the collar, I'll treasure it." And then he was gone as if he'd never been there in the first place. Atem could barely believe the situation, and he was still aroused and dazed enough by his heat that the whole exchange left him wordless. He gave a fleeting glance at his side table as he tried to recover, realizing the intent behind the final comment. His collar had been stolen right off the stone. Realizing he'd been thoroughly bested he did what any well-adjusted Pharaoh would do; he screamed in frustration and collapsed against his sheets. If he found the company of his own hand tonight to get him through his heat, he would make sure The King of Bandits was the farthest thing from his mind.