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poptod · 7 months

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Curious Companion (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: You wake up in a museum and realize you're just a wax version of yourself. Your curiosity remains, and you find yourself entrenched in conversation with a millennia old Pharaoh.

Notes: its happy, then very sad, then happy again WC: 2.7k

The guards didn't care much about your section of the museum. Perhaps, you wondered from afar, it was because you looked and acted much like them––more humanoid than the little figurines or the puppets and stuffed animal skins. Regardless of what the three night guards thought of you, it did allow you more freedom than many of the other exhibits, for which you were grateful. Still, you didn't like them very much.

You awoke much like the other exhibits one evening, like you were ripped from your home and suddenly placed in a museum. The only difference was you had no idea why you were there; reading your plaque cleared things up only slightly. It had your name, and a profession you once thought of going into as a child, only for you to decide upon your entrance into college that it was a fabled dream. It also said that you were the young version of yourself, and that you would discover an ancient city on the coast of Egypt in your late 50's. Overall, the experience was strange. Few people were afforded a plaque telling them what they would do in their life.

Eventually, you realized that you would never accomplish those things anyway. The real you did––you yourself were a wax figure stuck in a museum in the year of 1992, and it was several centuries after your supposed death. Computers, although very informative, were very hard to figure out in order to obtain this information.

Knowing this––knowing you would never age, never accomplish anything yourself––did little to stifle your curiosity regarding the mystical land of ancient Egypt. You spent many nights combing the internet for information on Egypt, everything that had been learned between your existence in the early 20th century to now, nearing the 3rd millenium.

This research was only interspersed by your search for what exactly brought you to life. Avoiding the night guards seemed prudent, despite the fact that they might have answers, and thus you were left to your own devices to try and figure the mystery out.

After many weeks of no answers, you decided to trail the guards at a safe distance in hopes of overhearing some conversation. They mentioned a mummy––one you had not heard about being in the museum before––and a magic tablet. Immediately you left in search of this exhibit, excitement teeming at your fingers. If the magic worked to make everything alive, surely it would make the mummy alive. If every exhibit retained their memories from life, this mummy would have an immeasurable amount of knowledge about what ancient Egypt was really like, although you knew language may be a barrier. But it didn't stop you.

You searched the museum as thoroughly as you could––which took several nights, seeing as how large the museum was––and eventually circled back round to a place near your own exhibit, which you chastised yourself for. You were part of the exhibit on Egyptian history. It would make sense the mummy would be near you. But before you could even enter the room, the sun began to rise, and you hurried back to your exhibit to await the next coming night.

That next evening, you waited until the night guards came and went, laughing and play-fighting each other as they locked up each of the exhibits in turn. As usual, they skipped you. But once they were gone you snuck out of your casing, and headed towards the screaming you had heard the first time you found the mummy's room.

The sarcophagus rattled beneath the heavy stone, and the thick lock keeping it together barely moved as the deceased person shook and yelled with all their might. The statues of Anubis, carrying was-scepters and adorned in gold, only watched you as you slowly walked down the hall. You circled the sarcophagus, admired the carvings, and then moved to read the plaque.

Ahkmenrah was his name. A young Pharaoh from the Middle Kingdom. Discovered in the 1950's. Son of Merenkahre with a partially illegitimate claim to the throne. Suspected to be assassinated due to the wounds in his back.

You returned to the sarcophagus.

"Ahkmenrah?" You said quietly.

The screaming ceased, but the rattling did not.

"Can you hear me?" You asked.

He made a sound, which was completely incoherent, but was a confirmation nonetheless.

You didn't really think about what you would do once you got this far. Originally you had a plethora of questions in store, but thinking about it now, it didn't seem appropriate to launch all of them upon the encased Pharaoh. Being stuck in a cramped sarcophagus did not sound like a pleasant time, and you didn't even know if he would understand you.

"Do you understand me?"

"Arabic?" He suddenly said, and though his voice was still muffled, it was clear enough to understand.

"Yes," you said, shuffling forward in your excitement. "Is that alright?"

"I know English more well," he said.

"Oh. Um…"

Your english skills left something to be desired, but they would suffice. They did better with reading than speaking.

"My name is (Y/N)," you began in English. "Do you, um… do you know why we are… not dead?"

"Yes, of course I do," he said in perfect English. "Do you see that tablet up on the wall? It's made of gold. The light of Amun shines down from the top upon its' keys."

"Yes, I see."

"My father gave it to me, as a gift. It is imbued with the powers of the Great God Khonsu, may he live forever. It was meant to keep our family together but, as I am separated from my family, it keeps the museum alive. It keeps us safe," he said.

"Safe?"

"Protected. Away from harm, or getting hurt."

"Ah." You laughed. "Your English is better than me. How did you learn it?"

"Well, before I was here, previously I was stationed in Cambridge University for study. That's where I learned English, and Arabic, and Hebrew. I had a lot more freedom there… when I learned I was to be transferred to a city of New York, I was most agrieved. Now I see I had every right to feel such a way. Um, (Y/N), may I ask, who are you?"

"I'm the young type of a famous person. I read, when I am… when I was older, I found an Egyptian city on the shore of Egypt. The city was built after you died," you explained.

"I see. I have another question, if that's alright."

"Yes, it is. I have also questions for you, if that's alright," you said in return, earning a laugh.

"Yes, quite alright. But I go first. (Y/N), do you know why I am locked up?"

You sucked in a breath. It was fair that he would ask this question; you just weren't prepared to answer it.

"There are guards, that the museum has to keep things safe. They keep everything locked up. Only a little bit of us are not locked up. I am not. But the guards are not very nice. I don't like them," you explained quietly, leaning in to speak through the tiny crack between the coffin and its' lid.

"I see," he said, a hint of sadness lacing his tone. "Do you… do you think you could open up my sarcophagus?"

"Yes, I think," you said with a frown. "But they will hear. Then I will be locked up too, and so will you, for the rest of time. And we will not be able to talk again."

"… you're right," he said, and sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just very cramped in here."

"I know. I am sorry as well."

You visited him every night, year after year. Each night you both would have questions for each other; yours regarding his life in ancient Egypt, and his mostly personal and theological. His sense of humor was surprisingly vibrant considering his state of being, and you enjoyed your time with him immensely. He seemed to be the only exhibit in the museum with a true soul, which you attributed to the fact that he was an actual human made of bones and flesh, and not a figure carved from wax. Each passing month you yearned more and more to see his face; to know his entirety. Each year the longing grew immensely more painful. Still, every night you went to see him, and always avoided the night guards, who grew older and older as you stayed just as young as when you first awoke.

"I want to ask," you began one night, "what God you worship."

"I worship many Gods. My favorite, my most beloved Netjer is Nefertem. But He is not a very appropriate God for a Pharaoh to worship. As Pharaoh, I was set to elevate Ra and Khonsu as the ultimate Gods," Ahkmenrah explained, though his answer only led to more questions.

"You are not allowed to worship some Gods?"

He sighed, and you could practically feel him rolling his eyes.

"Some Gods are not popular enough for the people to rally behind. So in order to retain power as Pharaoh, you have to encourage a God the people already love and adore in great hoards. I don't think it's very right, personally. But it's the way things are done. Now, (Y/N), what God do you worship?"

You paused.

"Supposedly the Abrahamic one," you said. "My family is Muslim. They worship Allah, a supreme male God. I… have a.. complicated relationship with Allah."

Ahkmenrah laughed, and the lid to the sarcophagus rattled with him, similar to the high ringing of marriage bells sounding like the shackles prisoners wore clinking around their wrists and ankles.

"Do you know who Allah is?" You asked.

"Of course I do. I didn't spend all that time in Cambridge for nothing. He emerged after the preachings of the prophet Muhammed. I've always been curious about this one God who has so wholly encapsulated the world. It seems he is the only God people worship these days."

"Not everyone is Muslim."

"No, but everyone worships this God that came from the Israelites, yes? From the Israelites came Jesus, and the Christian God, who is the same as the Jewish God. After the Christians came Muhammed, and the Muslim God. They're all the same, are they not?" He said.

Your brow furrowed. You hadn't thought of it that way before––perhaps a product of your era. But he brought about a good point. Suddenly the fighting between the three religions seems superfluous and stupid.

"I guess so," you finally said. "There are other religions now, not only three. Hinduism and Buddhism are large in the east."

"I've heard of Hinduism. It's polytheistic, yes?"

"Yes."

"I enjoy that."

You laughed.

There was silence, and then Ahkmenrah spoke again.

"You don't really worship Allah though, do you?"

"My family does."

"Forget your family. Do you believe in this ultimate, male power in the universe?"

"… not really."

"Do you believe in any higher power at all?"

"Yes," you said, without really thinking it through. "I do not think about it much. Well, I have not, in my past. It is not… not right. But I am not sure what I believe in."

"Think about it. Tell me next time, alright?" He requested in a soft voice.

You reached out and touched his sarcophagus.

"Of course," you said.

Next time didn't come.

The night guards had grown old over the years, and the time had come for them to be replaced. They were bitter about it, you knew, and you had overheard their ideas to steal the tablet of your friend. You had few ideas on how to stop them; when the next night guard came, you thought to tell him, but he was grossly incompetent and quit within the first day. The museum ran through several new night guards––all of whom quit after seeing how the museum actually operated at night––until one man who was desperate enough finally returned night after night, trying his best and failing to lock up all the exhibits. Despite the chaos, you had been managing to sneak away to talk to Ahkmenrah whenever the guards weren't near.

The new night guard's incompetence, however, led to one of the exhibits escaping: a wax figure of an ancient hominid. The night of your conversation with Ahk, you noticed one of the figures missing from the exhibit, and saw an open window. You knew the new night guard would not be able to save the hominid, and somehow, although you'd never been told, you knew something bad would happen if they were outside when the sun rose.

You climbed out the window. Already the evening was fading away. You went running in search of the hominid, and tried your best to lure him back into the museum. As you reached the museum doors with the hominid in tow, the sun crested over the tops of the skyscrapers, and the both of you turned to dust.

…

Larry nearly got fired for losing two exhibits on one of his first nights, but all of that seemed like the distant past after his efforts in stopping Cecil and uniting the exhibits of the museum to work together in friendship. It seemed to him a great accomplishment––especially in the light of his son's happiness and the fact that he now had a job that was actually quite easy––and he prided himself on his work.

Ahkmenrah, the dead Pharaoh, however, was not as cheerful as he had been when he was released. He spent his nights searching every historical and scientific wing of the museum and never seemed to find what he was looking for.

One evening, Larry followed him, and finally spoke up.

"So… you seem to be… looking for something. Usually. Think I can help you find it?" Larry asked, his hands folded behind his back as he awkwardly approached the 4,000 year old Pharaoh.

"I had a friend, before you came," Ahkmenrah said, but didn't spare a glance away from scanning the different plaques. "Their name was (Y/N). They spoke to me while I was locked away. One evening, they didn't return. It was… somewhat recent. A couple days before you released me from my sarcophagus."

"(Y/N)? (L/N)? The historian?"

"I would think so. I think they were Arabic. I never saw their face."

"Yeah… I think I know who you're talking about." Larry pursed his lips and took a deep breath, preparing himself to deliver the news. "I'm sorry, Ahk. They escaped the museum and uh… didn't return before sunrise."

Ahk stopped moving. His eyes halted on one of the words he was reading: founded. A great sorrow filled up his heart, and took up the space where his breath would be, and filled his eyes where his sight once lay. All that remained was the sudden stillness, and the blackness in his mind.

"I see," he said quietly, attempting his best to stop his voice from failing. "Thank you, Larry."

He left, leaving Larry alone in the hall, and returned to his sarcophagus. He lay there for the night and did not move till the sun rose, and he froze in his death.

Some days later––perhaps a week or two––Larry found him sitting on the edge of the staircase, and led him upstairs. He would not say where they were going, but when they got there, Ahk had an idea of what had happened. Your plaque was put back in its' place, and standing in the glass encasing was you. You looked confused. His lips parted in a soft gasp.

They replaced you.

"Larry, what is this?" Ahkmenrah asked, furrowing his brow.

"Well, when McPhee saw that (L/N) was missing, he had another one made, and… well, here they are. Thought you might want to know," Larry said. When neither Ahk or you made any move, he continued with, "oh, let me just…" and unlocked your new casing. "There you go."

You looked at both of them, your wide eyes darting between the two strange figures as you placed your hands on either edge of the glass. Ahk offered his hand for you to step down with. You looked at his hand, and then back up to him, tilting your head to the side.

Despite your doubts, you took his hand. You asked something in Arabic––something Larry couldn't understand, but Ahkmenrah comprehended perfectly.

"Do I know you?" You asked.

"In a way," he murmured, unable to look away from you. You were shining in the usually harsh and unflattering light of the museum. He wondered how you would look in a perfect sunset.

"You seem… familiar," you said as though in a trance.

"I'll explain everything," he said softly. "Walk with me?"

"… alright."

He took your other hand, and the two of you left down the hall, staring at each other.

#ahkmenrah x reader #ahkmenrah x female reader #ahkmenrah x male reader #night at the museum #rami malek #ahkmenrah

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