A/N: The next couple of chapters are going to be a little shorter as we gear up for the climax. As always, a reminder that I don't own any Disney characters (including those from NatM, Moon Knight, and the Haunted Mansion) but I do own Dara and the other original characters in this story.

The song for this chapter is "Time in a Bottle" by Jim Croce.

Chapter Twenty-Four - Time in a Bottle

July

The first time that Ahkmenrah had awoken in his tomb, he had screamed.

But not for the reason most would think - although his claustrophobia certainly developed after countless nights waking up in that Gods-forsaken sarcophagus, the first night his scream was one of anger. He had been murdered by his own brother. It was a heinous betrayal and was worthy of its own frustration, but that was not the only cause of his anguish.

Takhara had died mere days before Ahkmenrah's demise, so he had not had time to finish her funerary rites and have her entombed with the royal family.

So when Ahkmenrah's father opened the lid of the sarcophagus that first night, the boy king had collapsed into his arms and sobbed for hours. And both his parents remained steadfast as he spent the nights waiting to see if Takhara's sarcophagus would be moved to its rightful place by his side. It never did.

And while his mother had been sympathetic and did her best to soothe Ahkmenrah, his father had usually remained silent. Ahk had always assumed it was his father's usual stoicism that kept him from providing comfort.

Or perhaps it was because Merenkahre had always known about Takhara's dark fate.

Which was precisely what Ahkmenrah intended to ask his father tonight. The shipment from the British Museum had arrived earlier that day, and Reginald had promised to greet his parents first thing while Dara completed rounds. Ahk made his way there as swiftly as he could.

As soon as he turned the corner that led to Shipping, his mother's warm smile greeted him. Her joy at seeing her son brightened the whole room. "My dear Ahkmen!" She cried as she rushed to meet him. The comfort of her embrace felt just as familiar as he remembered it as she circled his arms around him.

"Hello, mother," he greeted fondly.

"My son," a voice that always commanded attention boomed from across the room. But Merenkahre's gentle smile, reserved just for his son, revealed his delight at their reunion. "It is good to see you."

Ahkmenrah's smile faltered for a moment and it did not go unnoticed by his father. "I am pleased to see you as well," he offered, for it was true. Even though he needed answers that his father would be unwilling to give, Ahk was nevertheless relieved to be reuinted with his family. "We have much to discuss."

Merenkahre nodded curtly and seemed to immediately understand that there was something wrong. His mother also sensed it as she squeezed Ahk's shoulder reassuringly. "Of course. Perhaps we can discuss in the Egyptian wing. I am curious to see how it differs from our former home."

Home was a funny word to use. But Ahk realized that it made sense for his father... 'Home' for Merenkahre was likely wherever Ahkmenrah and his mother were. But for Ahk, 'home' had been lost so long ago. It was gone the night that Takhara died. Now her home was in the sands of the Duat, and Ahk was left to wonder if he would ever feel truly at home again.

Ahk swallowed past a lump in his throat and nodded.

"Guardian Reginald, thank you for greeting us tonight," Shepseheret said in an attempt to dispel some of the looming tension. Reginald bowed his head in a sign of respect.

"Of course. The pleasure is mine."

As Ahk led his parents out of Shipping, he nearly collided with Dara.

"Oh sh- sorry Ahk! I was just on my way to greet your parents," Dara said. She peered around Ahk and smiled. "It looks like I found them." Ahk shifted out of the way so that she could greet them properly. She bowed her head gracefully and said, "It's nice to meet you, I'm one of the night guards here. My name is Dara Doo..."

Words stuck in her throat as she turned a puzzled expression toward his parents. When Ahk looked to them, he understood why.

His mother looked pale as if she had seen a ghost. But it was his father's reaction that truly caught the young king off guard. His father was on his knees and bowing his head in the deepest sign of respect possible by Egyptian social standards. In all his years, Ahk had never seen his father fall to his knees.

"Thank you... For what you did for my son," Merenkahre said shakily, unable to meet Dara's eyes. "Your sacrifice... I can only imagine what you've been through. Thank you."

Ahk felt his blood run cold. His father thought that Dara was Takhara, and judging by his show of gratitude, the man definitely knew what happened to her.

"Sacrifice? What do you mean, my King?" Shepseheret asked suddenly, seeming to recover her senses although she still had unbelieving eyes fixed on Dara.

"I'm sorry," Dara said remorsefully as she grasped what was happening. "I'm not who you think I am. My name is Dara Dooley, and I am not Takhara... I know about her, though. I mean, about what happened to her..."

"Yes," Ahk's voice was sharp to his own ears, but he did not dare to dull the edge for his father's benefit. He wanted to man to know just how angry he was. "That is exactly what we need to speak about."

Merenkahre and Ahkmenrah locked eyes, and Ahk knew that this was a conversation his father must have been dreading from the way his face fell.

But for the first time in many lifetimes, Ahk felt brave enough to face his father pharaoh-to-pharaoh. The answers he sought were too important for anything less.

Merenkahre was proud of his youngest son in every respect, not the least of which was the way that his discerning gaze could make master liars falter.

He just wished gaze was not currently directed at him.

Ahkmenrah stood rigidly on one side of the sarcophagus that sat in the middle of the Egyptian Exhibit. Merenkahre focused his attention on admiring the tablet. There was only the width of the tomb between them, but they may as well have been worlds apart. Merenkahre was just glad that Shepseheret was on a tour of the museum with Dara. His Queen would hate to see the royal family like this.

Ahkmenrah was the first to break the silence. "You knew. Takhara's sacrifice... You knew the whole time."

Merenkahre closed his eyes and conjured the full strength of his will. "...I suspected," he clarified as he turned to face his son. "When you told me of how she took her life, and about the dagger... It was the only conclusion."

"Did you plan for her to take her life the whole time?" The accusation was almost as piercing as the glare that Ahkmenrah fixed upon him. "Since we were children?"

"Of course not!" Merenkahre heard his own voice rise at the implied indignity. "That was never what was supposed to happen."

"Then what was supposed to happen?"

"You were supposed to use the dagger to exact Khonshu's revenge! How was I to know that you would fall from his favor?!"

"Why did you hide this from me? You knew that the tablet required sacrificial blood, and you hid it from me!"

"I couldn't lose you!" The revelation echoed off the walls of the exhibit like a lost hope. "I could not..." He shook his head and braced his hands against the sarcophagus for support. "If you knew of the dagger's purpose, you would not have used it." It was not a question. He knew his son's heart. "It needed to be kept from you so that you could fulfill Khonshu's will, unburdened by the knowledge of what was happening to the souls you were taking."

Ahkmenrah's gaze softened only slightly. "Well, the truth is now known, and I am no longer Khonshu's Chosen." His posture straightened as he fixed his gaze on the tablet. "And I have decided that the cycle ends here."

Merenkahre bolted upright. "What do you mean?"

"There will be no more sacrifices. No more life taken too early." The young king turned his concerned gaze back to his father. "And no more eternal life for our family."

Merenkahre felt his heart race uncomfortably quickly in his chest. "But without it we will..."

"I know." Ahkmen sighed, and it was the sort of sound that should only come from the old and weary. Merenkahre hated to hear it come from his young, lively Prince of a son. "Why must we seek eternal life, father? Have you no trust that we will meet again in the afterlife?"

The old king gave a sigh of his own as he fought to keep his voice even. "I have no doubt that you will make your way to the Field of Reeds, my son." He laughed humorlessly. "No, it is I who should be afraid. I always did my best as pharaoh, but I... I fear that the Gods will judge my choices in life harshly. I raised you, a role model amongst our people and the finest pharaoh that the world ever knew... But I also raised your brother. A tyrant who killed countless lives for his own sick pleasures. Yet I did nothing to stop him. And beyond that, I made mistakes of my own from which there is no escape." This was a secret he had held for a hundred lifetimes... That it was his own soul he was worried about, not that of his son. "I fear... I fear if death shall take us, that our family will be separated for eternity."

Ahkmenrah looked too stunned to speak, and when he tried, Merenkahre raised a hand to silence him.

"But you are right. I have been selfish in prolonging this. I only wished..." He took in a shaky breath as a single tear made it past his kingly composure. "I wanted us to be together for eternity. You and your mother are my everything. But I have denied you the comfort of the Field of Reeds for too long. So if it is your wish to move on, I will not stop you. Even if I cannot follow."

The rustle of Ahkmen's royal cape was the only alert Merenkahre had before he was swept into his son's arms. "You are a good man, father. Do not be afraid, for we will all be together in the end."

Merenkahre returned his son's embrace and smiled, even though he did not believe Ahkmenrah's words. "Thank you, my son." Merenkahre pulled back enough to examine his son's features. He had grown into a man so suddenly. Where had the time gone? It had been thousands of years, but he could remember his son's boyish innocence as if it was yesterday. "I pray that Khonshu will protect you in your remaining trials, even if you are no longer his Chosen."

And although Merenkahre had never seen the God, he sensed that Khonshu was watching over them in that moment. The old king hoped Khonshu was as proud as he was.