Night had fallen upon the city, as it always had, and the lights of every building began to flicker off. All buildings except for one, that is. The American Museum of Natural History in New York, though smaller than most, was one of the busiest museums in the entire country both day and night. During the day, excited children, reminiscing veterans, history buffs; anyone and everyone who knew about the museum came to visit eventually, and those who already had never stayed away for long. At night, however, it was a totally different story.
At night, the exhibits came to life.
Every wax figure, every taxidermized animal, paintings, gold and bronze and stone busts, everything. If it was an exhibit, labelled with the typical wooden plaque you find at any museum, it would move. First, it would blink, take in a deep gasping breath, then it would stretch, wiggle its limbs and shuffle about, like it almost couldn't believe what was happening. Then the memories would come rushing back. They'd smile. And then their miraculous night alive—straight through from the last flickers of the sunset to the first inkling of sunrise—would begin.
Some of them liked to wander, to talk to the others and explore parts of the museum they'd never seen before. Some liked to observe the history around them, learning about the things their living counterpart never got to see before they passed; Theodore "Teddy" Roosevelt was one such wax man who spent every waking moment learning. Sometimes they'd long for more, long to step outside and really see the world, but they didn't dare leave. Not since 1958 when an ancient knight left and never came back. All that was left was a pile of ash on the front steps, was what the night guards gleefully told them.
Those were horrible men—no, not even men. They were thieves.
That was four years ago now, and they'd long since been replaced by the wonderful yet hard-to-love Larry Daley (and sometimes his enthusiastic son Nick). Larry ruled with an iron fist, but he wasn't like those other four men who locked them in their display cases and jeered at them until sunrise. Larry let them roam free. He played soccer with the Neanderthals and fetch with the tyrannosaurus rex, but best of all, he treated them all as though they were real people, and he treated them with respect, none more so than the beloved Ahkmenrah.
It was the ancient pharaoh's golden tablet that brought the museum to life every night, as it had done at every other museum, university, and storage warehouse it travelled to alongside the boy king. In the thousands of years since his death, the young Ahkmenrah had awoken every night suffocating in his own wrappings, stuffed inside an ornate sarcophagus encased in glass and stone, and all he could do was scream. Until Larry Daley came to set him free.
Teddy Roosevelt—well, the wax replacement—often thought about the boy king. Ahkmenrah was very much a polite and sophisticated boy, never one to tread on Larry's authority, but Teddy knew that the Pharaoh missed his own time, more than anyone in the museum could ever know. They were all wax, whereas Ahkmenrah… wasn't.
Sometimes he'd see the lad shuffling about aimlessly when he thought no one was looking, hunched over and looking like he held the weight of the world upon his shoulders. It was happening more and more, and the other exhibits were beginning to notice.
"Larry, I wonder, have you noticed that Ahkmenrah seems a little…"
"Sad? Yeah, I have, Octavius." They watched Ahkmenrah, usually one of the brightest and cheerful of them, curl in on himself in a darkened corner of his tomb. "I think he feels a little left out."
"How?"
Larry sighed. "Think about it, guys. Ahkmenrah is the only one here from Egypt. The rest of you, you've all got friends here with you. Teddy, you've always had Texas and now you've got Sacagawea too. Ahkmenrah's all alone."
"And he's also a walking talking corpse. He ain't fancy dolls like us," added Jedediah from Larry's breast pocket. Octavius, who was sat next to him, cringed a little. The cowboy had always been a little too blunt.
"Yeah, and that."
Teddy thought on the situation for a moment, sneaking glances at the depressed pharaoh. "I think it's more than that, my dear Lawrence. The poor boy is in mourning."
Suddenly, Ahkmenrah got up from his secluded spot and started to move in their direction. On the way out, he half-heartedly nodded to his guardian jackals with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Everyone other than Teddy quickly turned their heads, afraid of being caught, but Teddy knew the boy wasn't stupid. The group had been staring at him quite obviously, after all.
"Larry Daley, Guardian of Brooklyn," he greeted. "It is most excellent to see you again. Has young Nicholas joined you tonight?"
"No, no. He's with his mom every Monday."
"Of course, I must have lost track of the date. It wouldn't be the first time." Another sad smile. "I've spent far more of my eternal afterlife in the dark than the light, so forgive me."
Teddy couldn't help but feel a little guilty, knowing he hadn't helped Ahkmenrah for more than 50 years as he screamed and pleaded to be saved from his sarcophagus. The thumping, banging, and clanging of the boy kicking at the lid still haunted him. He suspected it always would too, at least until the day the tablet's magic stopped working or when Ahkmenrah was transported away yet again, leaving everything in the museum lifeless once again.
"Walk with me, lad," Teddy commanded, clapping a gloved hand onto the pharaoh's shoulder and steering him away from the group. He made no complaints. They walked back into Ahkmenrah's tomb in silence, the boy's happy mask slipping with every step. When Teddy felt they were isolated enough from the others, he stopped.
"What's going on, my boy," he asked softly. "You've not been yourself for a month now and, well, it's making everyone worry. Put an old man's heart at ease and talk to me about it."
Ahkmenrah opened his mouth, prepared to lie, but found he couldn't force the words out. He hated to lie, but especially couldn't do so to Teddy or Larry. However, this was a confession he wasn't quite ready to tell his newfound friends, so he settled on a half-truth.
"I miss my family," he said. "I miss my people, my country. I miss feeling the heat upon my skin and the wind in my hair. I miss feeling the sands and stones of my wonderful palace under my feet. I miss the parties and the food and the wine, and I miss…" he paused, catching himself before he could reveal too much. "I miss everything.
"The museum sleeps during the day but it is more than that for me because I am connected to the tablet. I dream. I have nightmares too. For the past months, I have been dreaming an awful lot about someone I once knew," Ahkmenrah finished.
Teddy's lips widened into a knowing smile. "Aha, I knew it! Who was she?"
Ahkmenrah's jaw dropped and he snapped his head to the side, looking away from the former president, but the moustached man was no fool. He knew the look of pining on any man's face, four thousand years old or not.
"Meryamun," the boy muttered. His face was flushed pink, the tips of his ears burning red, and his eyes were watering. "My life and my love."
A picture appeared in his mind, clear as the day he'd lived it, of a beautiful Egyptian maiden carrying hand-carved gifts to the temple as offerings for Ra. Her skin was a shade lighter than his and her hair an incredibly rare light yellow. From the side he could see her straight nose, soft chin and jawline, and small rounded ears. When she turned slightly, he saw the way the paint on her face brought out her stunning brown eyes.
"I was already married," Ahkmenrah said. Teddy's eyebrow shot up—the boy hadn't told anyone about a wife. "My parents were so in love and wanted the same for me, but I could see in their eyes that they were starting to hope desperately for a grandchild, a legacy to pass on. They'd had me so late in life after many failed births, you see, and they were starting to age.
"It was the queen's father who came to me. He presented his daughters before us, each one young and beautiful, but it was her my parents selected for me. She was a perfect candidate for a child as she'd never before fallen ill, and so I married her."
Teddy took note of how Ahkmenrah refused to use his wife's name. The king went on to say that she was a horrid woman—one much like his psychopathic older brother Kahmunrah—who belittled and "punished" servants for fun, and who used Ahkmenrah for his immense wealth and power.
"She was a jealous woman. Any female servant who dared to look at me, even if on accident, no longer had a place in the palace halls. I tried to stop her as often as I could but, well, there was not much I could do if I wanted my reputation to hold. Even though I was loved as the pharaoh, there were still many who believed Kahmunrah rightfully deserved the throne. If my people believed me to be too soft, then how could they trust me to lead them in war should it arise?"
"Did it?"
"Not while I was pharaoh, nor was there war when my father ruled. My nineteen years of life, despite its turmoil, was peaceful." Ahkmenrah was a quiet for a moment. "I would often go to see Mery in secret. She gave me excellent advice after my father passed, and she taught me how to carve shabti out of a wooden block.
"One day, my love was showing me how to carve the faces. It was a delicate process, so she had her hand on mine, guiding the knife. I'd already long fallen in love, since the day I met her at the temple, and she was sitting so close to me that I couldn't help myself."
Teddy grinned and Ahkmenrah squirmed. "You kissed her! I never took you for a scoundrel!"
The boy recalled the feeling of his lover's lips, the way she'd let out the slightest gasps when he took her by surprise, and how she'd run her soft tongue along his lip to tease him. She liked to whisper poems into his kisses. Sometimes Mery was a trickster, nipping at his lips and tongue when he moved too fast, and sometimes she surged into him and encouraged him to go faster, faster, faster.
"We more than kissed," declared Ahkmenrah, suddenly confident. "We could hardly go three days without joining our bodies at least once. Loving her in that fashion was like being in paradise with the gods. No, actually, it was even better than that. Such feelings could never arise from being with my wife.
"I loved Meryamun with everything I had. She wanted no gifts, no power, no servants. She only wanted my heart and soul, but my queen was suspicious. We knew we had to break off the affair, and so I went to see her one last time, unaware that my older brother had followed me."
Ahkmenrah's smile, the first genuine smile in a long time, vanished. In its place was a teary-eyed frown, trembling lips, and shaking fists. "Kahmunrah threatened us at knifepoint. He told me if I did not give him the throne, he would tell my wife about the affair. My love had only one choice; she had to flee or face execution at the hands of the queen. That was the last I saw of her. I only wish that our last memory together had been a happy one."
As the young king began to cry, Teddy pulled him into a tight sorely-needed hug. He grieved with the lad in silence, offering what comfort he could. He'd never suspected that such a carefree and beloved pharaoh, and a child no less, had lived through such tragedy.
When the boy had settled, he mumbled that he'd like to spend the rest of the night alone, and bid a good morning to Teddy as he usually would at sunrise. The moment he left the tomb, the loyal jackals pulled shut the heavy gate and moved to block the view, and all that could be heard was the awful, grating sound of the stone sarcophagus closing for the final time that night.
Larry, having noticed the commotion with the jackals, wandered over with a concerned Sacagawea in tow.
"Hey, is he okay?"
"I was right, Lawrence. I'm afraid poor Ahkmenrah has lived a tragic life. Best to leave him alone right now." He re-told the story to his closest companions, though he left out much of the detail, knowing Ahkmenrah wouldn't appreciate his darkest secrets being shared behind his back.
A long muffled scream of anguish came from the pharaoh's tomb, stopping the fun and games as everyone in the museum turned to listen. Larry awkwardly gestured that everything was alright.
"Is there a way we can find him some closure or something? Like, I don't know, maybe Rebecca will know something about her?" Larry asked.
Teddy shrugged. For all they knew, Meryamun's body could be buried under miles of sand in Egypt, slowly turning to dust.
The next day, bright and early, Rebecca came into the museum at Larry's call, just in time to watch all the mannequins freeze for the day.
"I'll never get used to that," she said, just as amazed as she was the first time. She poked the Roosevelt mannequin's leg. It didn't move an inch, of course. "Why'd you call me so early anyway? The museum doesn't open for another two hours."
"Ahk's been feeling pretty down lately, and I wondered if you knew anything about a woman called Mary Ayman-something? Teddy said it was his lover," Larry whispered, knowing McPhee was wandering around somewhere nearby. "Apparently she had to run away because Ahk's brother tried to kill her."
Rebecca thought on it for a moment. "Wait," she started, her eyes lighting up as she realised something. "Do you mean Meryamun? Mother to Ahkmen II?"
"She had a son?"
"Well, so did your pharaoh if it's the same woman. There's records of a sickly child showing up during the last years of Kahmunrah's rule claiming to be the firstborn of Ahkmenrah and a commoner named Meryamun. He was turned away, however, because he couldn't provide any proof. His sarcophagus was found five months ago alongside his mother. The name engraved on her tomb was Meryamun."
Larry grinned. "Five months? Teddy said Ahk's been dreaming about her since the start of the year. Maybe it's a sign from the tablet to bring them together?" He was ecstatic. It was an opportunity to solve the pharaoh's problems! But they first had to find proof, a reason to bring the boy and his mother to the museum.
"There was something unusual as well. There were some scratches on the wall that spelled out 'Pharaoh Ahkmenrah' that the excavators thought were done by grave robbers, but the robbers didn't take anything like they normally would. I have some connections in the lab studying the bodies. If they can find enough reason to bring the two of them here to Ahkmenrah, then I'm sure McPhee would love to have them."
"Yeah, it's not a really well-kept secret that his favourite exhibit is Ahk."
"I'll get in contact with the lab."
Two weeks later, Larry had his answer. It was her. The Egyptologists who studied Ahkmenrah and the objects of his tomb during his time Cambridge University revealed that the pharaoh was quite the artist. He had a personal journal, of sorts, carved into thin stone blocks—for when his emotions overcame him—that was filled with drawings of the same woman; his secret lover. He called her Mery. The lab working on Meryamun confirmed that the facial structure of her surprisingly well-preserved skull matched the sketches.
It was also revealed to the public that Ahkmenrah, ever the romantic, had written many poems about his life; his unwanted marriage, his grief over the loss of his family, his despair when his brother tried to kill his beloved. Everything from the time he dislocated his thumb as a young boy to the very details of his sex life was there.
McPhee was overjoyed at the news, and with a hefty portion of the museum's budget (and a ridiculous amount of donations from Egyptians wishing to honour their pharaoh and his newly discovered family) promptly bought the woman, her son, and the several drawings and poems for the ancient pharaoh's exhibit, which had been expanded upon into an empty room next door to fit the new sarcophagi. The doctor practically pranced about the museum these days and had sent Rebecca no less than fourteen presents for her work.
All was not well at the museum, however. Ahkmenrah himself was quickly becoming more and more withdrawn, often opting to spend most of the night hiding away in his enormous tomb. The only person he spoke more than a single word to was Teddy, who would report on the state of the boy king whenever he could.
"Every time I see him, he gets worse and worse," said Teddy. "The never-ending nightmares are practically making him delirious, and he's afraid the new addition to the exhibit is going to be his brother. Hell, Lawrence, the boy is terrified."
Larry pursed his lips. "Well, the sarcophaguses are coming in tomorrow morning. The exhibit is gonna be closed off for the next few days while they install everything, but I'm making sure they leave me a key to the site in case I need to get in."
"Or let the pharaoh out," Teddy concluded. "Sharp thinking, Lawrence!"
"Speaking of, I think I should go try talking to him, make sure he's alright."
The boy was not alright at all. He'd forgotten to tell the jackals to stand guard, so Larry easily slipped into the construction site to find Ahkmenrah curled up in the corner, trembling and muttering to himself. Larry rushed to his friend's side.
"Hey, Ahk, you alright? What's going on? Talk to me, bud. Ahk? Ahk! Come on, man, don't make me slap you."
Ahkmenrah slowly looked up. Teddy was right, he was a mess. His skin was pale, apart from the deep purple bags under his wide eyes, and his lips ripped and bleeding from being bit too hard. He'd shed himself of most of his regal clothes and jewellery, all of which he stuffed into his sarcophagus next to his mummy bandages. He only wore was his long kilt thing—his shendyt—and his shoes since the floor was covered in sharp tools.
"Why won't the tablet let me die, Larry Daley?"
"What?" Larry gasped.
"I want to die. I want to be with my Meryamun. Just let me die and be with my love. I don't want to spend the rest of eternity dreaming about her while my wife and brother, my murderers, lay next to me, tormenting me," the king cried.
Larry held Ahkmenrah close, thinking about his Nicky, who was merely a few years out from being the same age as poor Ahkmenrah.
"I was stabbed 73 times, you know," he whispered. "The tablet showed me a week ago, in my dreams, what happened. How my wife used me that night and, once I was spent, let Kahmunrah into the room. They took turns slashing me open. One stabbed while the other held my screaming mouth shut. Each one was agony. It took 48 before I finally died, and they kept going. They just kept ripping me apart until they were satisfied. Mother was the one who found my body."
"It's not your brother coming to the museum. And it's not your wife," Larry blurted out. He cringed at his own brashness, but he knew it had to be said. "A bunch of scientists just released some stuff that was in your tomb and McPhee bought it all. He loves you."
A half-truth. An unfortunately common thing in the museum these days.
Larry's confession did nothing to soothe the panic-stricken boy, but there was at least a slight glimmer of hope in his eyes that Teddy thought was long dead. The night guard spent the entire night inside the tomb, entrusting the responsible Teddy and Sacagawea to handle the others, and he assisted Ahkmenrah into his clothes when the hour was upon them.
He smiled. "There. Now, time to wrap you up. You sure you can handle it?"
"I- I can't risk being seen without the bandages," he said. "I trust you, Larry Daley, Guardian of Brooklyn."
With a heavy heart, Larry wrapped Ahkmenrah into his ancient wrappings with precision, coughing as sand and dust flew off into his face. At some point, Ahkmenrah began to stumble, his knees and arms locked into place, and the jackals leapt forward to lift Ahkmenrah into his sarcophagus. When it came time to cover his face, Larry hesitated, feeling the quickening heartbeat of the boy king beneath his fingertips.
"I'll leave it loose," was all Larry could promise, and at the boy's nod, he continued. "Everything's gonna be okay, Ahk," he said softly as Ahkmenrah lowered himself down onto his back. The boy nodded again.
The sun began to rise just as Larry was sliding the lid into place (with the help of the jackals, of course). It was the first time he'd seen the transformation of the king's body from flesh and blood to a rotted corpse. He gagged.
"How lovely."
The jackals, Jedediah had noticed long ago, had a little longer than the king, so they quickly shoved the stone block onto the display then positioned themselves by the entrance to the tomb. Soon they, too, were frozen in place, just in time for McPhee to lead the construction crew onto the site.
"What are you doing in here, Larry? How did you get in here?"
"Ah, the boss gave me a key. Rebecca was getting paranoid, so I promised to check on the exhibit for her. Clean bill of health, guys! Everything's in tip top shape," he improvised, flashing an awkward thumbs up to the movers. "Promise I didn't touch anything," he added on the way out, seeing the annoyed glare on the supervisor's face. Clearly he hadn't expected Larry to actually have the guts to march into a construction site.
"Well, you'll be pleased to know that they're finishing the job today. The new, uh, additions arrive sooner than expected."
"That's fantastic news," Larry said, sharing in McPhee's excitement. In less than 24 hours, Ahkmenrah would have his family, his true family, by his side for the rest of his afterlife. Larry left the museum happier than he'd been in a while. On the way out, he could've sworn that Teddy's grin was just a little wider than usual.
That night, when he returned, all of the construction gear had been packed away into the storage room ready for removal the next day, and Ahkmenrah's tomb was open and complete. Darkness took over the city once again, and the exhibits came to life. Everyone seemed to know that there were new members to the family. They came from every corner of the museum, gossiping amongst their peers as they awaited Ahkmenrah's rising.
He always took a little bit longer than the others, especially recently, to wake from his dreams. Tonight, he slowly sat up, shimmied out of his bandages, set his crown upon his head, and cautiously peered into the next room.
"AAAAAHHHHHHH!"
Everyone jumped.
A familiar banging and clanging echoed in the chamber, twice as loud as it'd ever been before. At the panicked shouts, Ahkmenrah lost all hesitation and sprinted into the next room—everyone else remained outside, though they could all see—to release his new companions.
"It's alright, I'm letting you out! Please, stop screaming!" They did. "My name is Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King. You're in a building that is dedicated to educating people about the history of the world. It's been 4000 years since you died." Ahkmenrah's soothing voice seemed to keep the pair calm as he brute-forced his way into the display cases.
"My magical tablet bestowed to me by my parents brings everything in the museum to life each night. You will meet wonderful new people, nearly all after our time, who will tell you interesting stories, dance, sometimes we play a strange kicking game they call 'soccer.'" He rambled on and on, a sure sign of his anxiety to Larry and the other exhibits as they watched in silence, ready to jump in and save their king should he need them.
Finally, the pins to the sarcophagi were released and the lids flew open. A young woman jerked to life in the larger one. Beside her, a frightened young boy almost identical to Ahkmenrah—though he looked to be around twelve—sat up.
"Meryamun," the boy king gasped.
"Ahkmenrah," she said, equally shocked.
He gently lifted her—who knew the young pharaoh had such incredible strength?—out of the sarcophagus. Her wrappings, few as they were, immediately fell off her body. She was exactly as Ahkmenrah had once painted her; sun-kissed skin, straight dark hair styled into a braided bob, small nose, round ears, soft features, all atop a petite body. She was stunning.
He cupped her face in his hands, smoothing his thumb over her cheek, then pressed his crowned forehead to hers. It was an intimate moment, they all knew it, but Ahkmenrah had kept so many secrets about his life… they couldn't help but to watch. Then he leaned in and kissed her, shocking any whisperers amongst them into total silence. It was nothing more than a quick peck between lovers; there was no parting of lips, no teeth, and no tongues sneakily slipping through. And yet, somehow, it was so much more than that.
"My lover," he said in his native language. "You've come home to me at last."
They conversed for a minute, Ahkmenrah practically bouncing on his toes at the chance to finally speak to someone in the language he'd known during his lifetime, then their attention turned to the child. It was the same again. An exchange of words, a shared embrace, then a conversation. Ahkmenrah gestured to the group standing outside the tomb, presumably giving a vague introduction to the museum.
Suddenly, he grabbed the hand of the woman, Meryamun, and pulled her over to the crowd.
"Everyone, might I introduce you to my beloved soulmate Meryamun, and my son Ahkmenrah the Second."
Larry was the first to break the silence and greet their newest Egyptians. "It's, uh, nice to meet you. I'm Larry the night guard. Let me show you around."