Chapter 1

Seto's voice thundered in Mahaado's ear as he rambled on about the latest prank he'd fallen victim to. "My skin still hasn't regained its color since that time two weeks ago when Mana set flame to my copy of the Teachings of Djedefhor and the enchanted flames ate through the fabric of my robes and burned the words "stick in the mud" into my shoulder! So help me, Mahaado I…"

Mahaado opened the door to Seto's chambers, ushering the irate high priest in and closing the door behind them, as Seto continued his increasingly vehement tirade. He half-dragged Seto into the nearest chair, peering more closely at Mana's latest handiwork.

A hush fell over Seto as Mahaado laid his palm against his shoulder and began softly chanting words of power. All thoughts of revenge slipped away as Seto noticed the sensuality of having eyes that were normally trained on the pharaoh trained on him. As Mahaado's chanting continued, Seto began to notice the way the light burnished the magician's skin, giving it a glow. In this close proximity, with Mahaado's firm figure towering over him, Seto thought he could feel the heat radiating from the magician's body. The gentle touch of Mahaado's fingers on his bare skin gave him a pin-prickly sensation. Against his better judgment, it excited him.

Mahaado's chanting stopped as he caught sight of the dark inscrutable look fixed on him. With alarm, he cried,"Set-what-"

All at once, Seto's lips were engulfing his, tasting and savoring him. Seto pulled back the barest of inches, his breath tickling Mahaado's throat. "If that is your way of showing gratitude," Mahaado signed in exasperation, "a simple thank you would have sufficed.''

"Is that so, Magician? And here I thought you'd be honored to receive my attention."

"Why in Ra's name would I want to be on the receiving end of that?"

And just like that, Seto was upon him again, slipping his tongue between Mahaado's lips. To his own surprise, Mahaado moaned as white-hot pleasure shot through his veins. Abruptly, Seto pulled back, releasing him with an obvious smirk. "That's why."

Mahaado found his hands gripping the high priest's waist. "Show-off," he whispered huskily, the heat in his body drowning out all voices of reason.

Seto backed Mahaado toward the bed. Mahaado pulled Seto on top of him, enjoying the feel of Seto's body pressed so closely against his own, feverish one. Mahad tossed aside Seto's headdress and slipped his fingers into Seto's auburn hair. With a tenderness that felt foreign to him, Seto gently removed the robes concealing Mahaado's upper body.

And then he saw it. At the exact moment Mahaado saw him see it and stiffened.

"Mahaado...wha-"

"It's nothing." Mahaado said through gritted teeth, reaching his free hand to grab his discarded garment. Seto batted his hand away and Mahaado fixed him with an icy glare.

"This is..from that day."

"That day you never let me forget about."

"So..you have a permanent scar to remind you of your failure."

"Go on," Mahaado taunted, lifting his chin defiantly. "Aren't you going to lecture me about my weakness? Aren't you going to tell me how I died a dog's d-"

Mahaado's words died on his lips as he felt Seto firmly but gently press his fingers against the top of his scar at the juncture of his left shoulder. Seto imagined the blades of the axe trap slicing through Mahaado's flesh, tearing his ba and ka from his body, the Thief King looking on in triumph. Mahaado released the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Lifting his head inches above Mahaado's form, Seto asked, "Has he seen this?"

"What?" Mahaado replied, trying to clear his shifting thoughts.

"The Pharaoh….Atem...has he seen this?"

Mahaado stiffened again. "No." he said firmly. "And he never will."

Seto made a noncommittal noise. After a beat, he leaned in to claim those lips again but Mahaado stilled his advance with a firm hand on his shoulder. With his head turned away and his eyes closed, Mahaado simply said, "I thought you despised me."

Seto looked up, blinking and loosened his grip on Mahaado. "I do," came the matter-of-fact reply.

"Then why...are we doing this?"

Seto scoffed and immediately began straightening his clothing. "Well then, since you don't appreciate my attentions, I'll take my leave."

Seto stalked out of the room without so much as a second glance. Mahaado stared after him, completely baffled. He felt the beginning of another headache coming on.

Chapter 2

"Hold still," a voice admonished, hovering around a firm body, jars of ointments laying open at her feet. "Isis, apply more of the sacred oil," came the disgruntled reply. Lifting her gaze briefly from her task, the strong priestess replied, "Yes, of course, Mahaado." Isis dipped the tip of her reed brush into the small vial and proceeded to trace the sprawling scar tissue until it gleamed with a thick layer of oil. Beneath her fingers, Mahaado squirmed and huffed impatiently. Noticing his discontent, Isis lowered her reed brush and sat herself down beside the magician-priest. "It's looking much better. You can see how the scar tissue is lifting." Mahaado barely looked at her and grunted a response. Uncertainty, she offered, "One can barely notice it." Mahaado simply huffed and began gathering the containers and jars.

"Thank you, Lady Isis. Even if the scar fades, the memory of how it got there will not." Isis nodded knowing. With a final glance at her fellow priest, Isis stood and straightened her robes. "If that is all, I will take my leave." As Isis' footsteps receded down the hall, Mahaado carelessly tossed a long shirt over himself and continued gathering the jars of healing ointment. Moments later, he heard footsteps approach the door.

"Isis," he called, not turning around. "Next time, I think we should -" Mahaado stopped in his tracks as he wheeled around to see none other than his pharaoh before him.

"My king! What-what are you doing here?"

Atem gazed up at him, guilt evident in his eyes as if he'd been caught sneaking away from one of his lessons.

"Seto told me there was something I should see. Something you are hiding from me."

"That bastard," Mahaado muttered, barely able to contain his fury. "I'd kill him if he wasn't already dead," he spat, pushing past the pharaoh towards the door.

Atem stood still where he was, eyes closed. "Mahaado."

Mahaado stilled, recognizing an order from his sovereign king. "Mahaado, come here." Averting his gaze, Mahaado made his way to stand in front of Atem, the long shirt he wore shifting with the movement.

"Mahaado, we've known each other for so long. We've never kept secrets." Mahaado flinched, hating himself for the sadness that marred his pharaoh's face. "You have a right to your privacy, of course. I would never ask you to reveal something you are uncomfortable sharing. I just wish I knew why you no longer trust me."

At that, Mahaado's resolve crumbled and his breath hitched. He couldn't..he wouldn't deny his pharaoh the truth any longer.

"As you wish, my pharaoh," he said, still averting his gaze. Mahaado's hands reached down to the helm of his shirt, aiming to pull it up and over his head. Instead, Atem's hands covered his own. "If you agree….may I?"

Mahaado breathed a sign and shut his eyes tightly. "Yes of course, my pharaoh. Go ahead."

Carefully, as if Mahaado were glass that would break at the merest touch, Atem gripped the edge of the garment and pulled it up by the slightest inch. The thinnest sliver of Mahaado's toned waist came into view, as well as the tiniest sliver of his time-worn scar. Mahaado hitched his breath as Atem lifted the garment an inch more, and then another inch. Mahaado wished he would rip the shirt from his person and reveal the wretched scar and cast him from his presence, as had played out in his mind's eye so many times.

Atem continued his agonizingly slow ascent, his face never straying from Mahaado's body and his expression never slipping from practiced neutrality. Finally, the long shirt went up and over Mahaado's head, leaving his scar fully exposed to Atem's waiting gaze.

Atem stared, motionless, his eyes tracing and retracing the path of the long scar that snaked its way around his friend's once unblemished torso. "Is this...?" Atem finally breathed, a sob cutting off his question.

"It is." Mahaado replied, squeezing his eyes shut, willing himself not to look at his friend's pained expression.

Atem said a bit more firmly. "This is the reason why you've been running away from me. So that I wouldn't see this?"

"That's correct, my king." His head turned away as his mind shifted to a faraway tomb, a place of darkness and death and regret.

"Every day I awake, I see this scar and remember my failure. How I couldn't protect you. How I shirked my duty to your realm. I couldn't bear the thought of you seeing me now, seeing this, and thinking only of that failure too."

"You didn't fail me." Atem said quietly. "You never have. It was I who failed to protect you and our friends and my kingdom from the Dark One until my desperate move at the very end."

"Atem, you needn't make excuses for me."

Mahaado's heart sped up as he felt his sovereign's hands rest gently on either side of his torso. "My strong Black Magician, when I see this scar, I think not of your defeat against the Thief King. I think of all you have suffered at my side. I think of all the pain you endured on my behalf."

"It is a pain I would endure a thousand more times if it meant the slightest chance that you would be safe. That your dream of a new world could come to fruition."

Wine colored eyes stared up at Mahaado. "Mahaado, my friend, I've lost you once. You can't know the happiness that filled me when you were returned to me both in this world and in the other where I awakened. Fate and the gods tore you from me prematurely. I vow never to be separated from you again."

"This," Atem pressed his hand firmly against Mahaado's heart area, over the worst part of his scar. "This changes nothing. Mahaado, I love you. In this world and the last and in any other we should reappear in."

In the shadow of the neighboring corridor, a blue-clad figure watched as the pharaoh leaned into the magician, pressing their lower halves together and latching onto Mahaado's lips.

With a final glance in their direction, Seto straightened himself and turned away.