Chapter Text
It was really Seth’s fault that he broke his left leg.
But he decided to blame Horus. And Maat. And Isis. And Thoth, too, while he was at it. And Ra, who’d birthed them all. And Sekhmet, because all of this was really her doing.
He didn’t think about Osiris. As a general rule.
But the short of it was this: Isis was away, as usual, and Horus had stepped out of his rooms for a moment, without bringing Seth with him. Probably to piss or something. More than likely he forgot Seth was there. It was something Horus was doing increasingly often these days.
Oh, he made sure Seth was locked up for the night. Brought him to meetings. Took him on walks. Fucked around with him in his spare time. But the meeting field trips were fewer these days. And Seth had more time to himself. Not like he could do much trapped on a table or a bookcase inside a locked room on an upper story of a building, but still. Horus was quickly adjusting to being pharaoh, and his duties were many. Even tormenting his captive uncle and defeated enemy wasn’t high on the agenda every day.
It had been late morning, and Seth decided that today he was going to really explore instead of laying on his mini couch until Horus recalled he existed and returned to stick him on a necklace or tie his ankle to a string.
Of course, exploring required that he get down from the table Horus had left him on when he’d left. Horus had left some of his scrolls behind when he left, but Seth quickly read them all, and wanted to do something else with his time. He admitted he was curious about Horus’ room, and the various treasures the man no doubt kept hidden around it.
When he’d first started living here, the place was filled with old memories, though Horus had taken up residence in a larger room since becoming pharaoh, far from the guest quarters he’d had during the trial. Now time had passed, and Seth had decided he wasn’t afraid anymore.
Plus, maybe there was a hole somewhere he could sneak out of. Horus never left him alone long enough to do much. But today…
Unfortunately, he’d misjudged the distance from the tabletop to the chair, mostly because when he’d been a god, the leap would have been nothing.
It was not nothing now.
So when he landed and immediately heard and felt something break, he cried out in shock and fell over.
Unfortunately, this meant that he fell off the edge of the chair. Backwards.
He might have screamed.
Thankfully, Horus’ fancy footstool was relatively soft, high, and close to the chair, so Seth didn’t break his head or spine when he fell on it, and probably saved himself from a worse fate if he’d fallen to the floor.
But he still lay, dazed, on the footstool, for an unknowable amount of time.
Even when his eyesight cleared, and he could take stock of where he was and what happened, and that his arm was broken, too, that didn’t help. Pain was everything, and he groaned miserably.
He wasn’t used to injury like this. Even when he’d been injured badly in the past, he could just focus on other things until he could heal.
Now, his mind refused to fall unconscious, and he didn’t have the strength to get up. The pain was too overwhelming.
He finally tried to sit up on his good leg, but even that twigged both his broken limbs and he cried out and fell back, grunting as he hit the cushion of the footstool again.
So, he couldn’t move. No one was close enough to offer help: Isis had instructed the servants to ignore him even if they were close. He didn’t know how long Horus would be gone for, but as this was Horus’ bedroom and office, Seth knew he’d be back soon.
Perhaps Isis would come to visit looking for Horus, or to torment Seth somehow. Though the chances of her helping were slim, even after her help with his tooth. And she might simply suggest amputation as a solution, just to be cruel, probably citing something about Anubis—
Seth didn’t think about Anubis, as another general rule. His son hadn’t visited him in all the time Seth had been transformed, nor had Nephthys. He wagered Isis and/or Horus had forbidden it.
Sometimes, he didn’t know if he was sad or happy about that. He assumed they were happier, though.
So he was just stuck here. Waiting. Even if he could get off the stool without breaking something else, and made it to the door, so what? It was too heavy for him to move. And if he somehow managed to climb up a wall to a window, what would he do then? Jump to his death? Get picked up by a bird as food?
Would he die here, waiting for Horus to return? It was an odd consideration. He wasn’t used to having to rely on someone else, and never had to in the past, Osiris be damned, and Horus be damned. Helplessness never meant anything good.
Though at least Osiris couldn’t reach him here. Hopefully. He hadn’t been successful yet, anyway.
Seth wondered what would happen if this tiny body died. Would he be sent to Duat? And if he was, would he be back to his original size?
It was an odd idea, though it would probably make Ammit’s job easier when she devoured his heart…
But surely if he entered Duat, Osiris would ensure he would have control over Seth? It had seemed to be Osiris’ goal before. Drag him down to Duat so Osiris could… do whatever it was he wanted, away from the prying eyes of other gods. Again.
The idea was terrifying. Not only to be at Osiris’ mercy, but to also potentially not even be big enough to attempt some resistance…
Seth was shocked to realize he was crying. And wished he hadn’t lost his headdress in the fall. He could sense it was close by, but he would have appreciated some cover for this embarrassment.
How pathetic, to be reduced to this?
The pain returned, drowning out everything else.
Surely Horus will return soon? The thought was desperate, now. He didn’t know if he’d been thinking over this for seconds, minutes, or hours.
He tried to get up again, only this time he moved his broken leg even more and the burst of agony made him half-scream and fall back down again.
He tried to calm his breathing. Getting panicked wouldn’t do him any good.
He tried to think of something else to focus on other than the futility of his situation. But the pain was too distracting. So of course his mind would either get increasingly angry at Horus taking his damn time, circle on the pain, or think of some new torment Osiris might have cooked up for him when he finally died of starvation or thirst or infection.
Seth was in a groggy daze when he heard the door open and Horus’ familiar footsteps and voice approaching.
“Uncle, my apologies for taking so long, I—”
Horus stopped and Seth assumed he was looking at the empty table.
“Uncle…?”
“Here!” Seth realized his voice sounded odd, and a bit scratchy. Perhaps he’d yelled a few times, hoping it would get someone’s attention, even if they wouldn’t have checked things out. So he cleared his throat and projected louder, “Under the table!”
He watched as Horus stepped around and pulled the chair out, then crouched down, blocking out much of the sunlight.
Seth had never been happier to see the tall, muscular oaf.
“Uncle, why are you laying down here?”
Horus reached out and Seth barely had time to say, “Wait, don’t—!”
But then Horus had nudged his broken leg and Seth screamed.
Horus yanked his hand back.
Seth gasped and tried to get himself back under control. “My left leg is broken. As is my right arm.”
“What happened?”
“I fell off the table.”
“…You are very clumsy, Uncle.”
Seth snorted.
After a moment, Horus reached out again, this time carefully cupping Seth’s head and moving his hand under Seth, to support his back. The movement jiggled Seth’s arm and he bit back a cry of pain.
“Bear with me, Uncle,” Horus ordered, but quietly. “This may hurt, but I must move you to a gentler place, and then I will call Mother for help.”
The movement jiggled Seth’s broken limbs more, and the pain did make Seth black out, and when he next came to, he was laying down on something soft, staring at the ceiling. Everything still hurt, so he assumed Isis hadn’t arrived in the time he was out. He did check to make sure he still had all his limbs, and yes, he did.
Horus’ face appeared above him. “Uncle, you are awake again.”
Seth sighed. “Unfortunately.”
“I sent a servant for Mother. She should be here soon.”
“Okay…” Seth replied, quietly. He felt nauseous.
“It will be okay, Uncle,” Horus said. “I won’t leave you alone.”
For a moment, Osiris’ face appeared superimposed again over Horus’. That familiar smile. Taunting him. That disturbing sense of ownership in Osiris’ eyes, like Seth was a toy he could play with as he wished.
“There’s no use trying to escape,” Osiris said. “Your body is now mine.”
“No…” Seth murmured. He began to shake. “No…”
“Uncle?”
Seth sobbed as he fell into the dark.
When Seth next woke, he was laying somewhere soft, staring at the ceiling, lit slightly by moonlight. His headdress was still gone.
He pushed himself up and looked around, blearily. Though it was dark, he could tell he was in Horus’ bedroom, still.
It was only then he realized his limbs didn’t hurt.
He looked down at them. They both looked perfectly normal. And when he touched them, they felt fine.
He looked back around. He’d been returned to his small “room” – cage – by the side of Horus’ bed, where he had a small bed of his own. The cage itself was made of thick wooden bars and always locked when Horus slept. It afforded Seth little privacy, save for a small closet area with curtains that Horus had crafted, where Seth could change, and where Horus placed the many outfits Horus had designed for him, all of which Seth chose to ignore. The bathing area was less private, but Seth was used to it by now, and thankfully Horus had stopped staring all the time, which was far weirder. It was one thing for a servant to bathe him, but Horus seemed to stare at every part of him, all the time, and it was… strange.
Like Osiris, on that night, and every time since.
Seth’s headdress rested on its stand nearby. Since he couldn’t craft it from sand anymore, and didn’t wear it when he slept, Horus had also made the stand for him to place it at night, rather than putting it on the floor, the bed, or just leaving it over his head, which made him grouchier in the mornings.
Seth wondered if Horus would make a whole mini palace the longer this dragged on.
“Uncle?”
Seth twitched when he heard Horus’ voice, then looked over to see the man staring at him. Horus had apparently been sitting on his bed, and all Seth could tell was that his head was turned in Seth’s direction.
Horus got up and walked over, unlocking the door to the cage and leaning in closer to get a better look at the tiny former god. “Uncle, you should be careful when you move. Mother says you’re healed, but your body needs the rest to recover.”
Seth brushed his arm with his fingers thoughtfully. So Isis had helped again. So strange. And it was true, he did still feel a little groggy.
“How do you feel?” Horus asked.
Seth shrugged. “Fine.” A little tired, but the pain was gone. Isis knew what she was doing, at least.
“…Try not to fall off the table in future, Uncle.”
Seth rolled his eyes. Horus might be able to guess what Seth had been up to, given even his tiny brain worked sometimes, but it wasn’t like Seth had to admit to it.
After a time, when Seth didn’t say anything, Horus continued, “Your hair is beautiful, Uncle.”
Seth flushed and turned to glare at him, but when he looked back up at Horus, all he saw was Osiris’ green smiling face.
Seth scrabbled back on his bed, his heart racing.
After a moment, he realized he was looking at Horus again. With Horus’ back to the moonlight, and given he was mostly standing over the cage, the dark left his expression mostly in shadow.
“Uncle? Are you all right?” The question was oddly gentle, perhaps worried.
Why is he worried about me? Seth ignored that and tried to calm his breathing, then glared. “Yes, I… I’m fine.” He swallowed, then said, louder, “I’m just tired, that’s all.”
Horus’ expression was unreadable as he eventually said, “I understand. Rest, Uncle. Call me if you need anything. I’ll be here.” He locked the door to Seth’s cage again and went back to bed.
Silence filled the air.
Seth lay carefully back down on his bed and pulled the covers up, oddly afraid for the first time in a long time.
Horus was not his father, Seth reminded himself. No more than Anubis was.
Seth looked over at his headdress stand again, recalling watching Horus whittle away at the tiny stand, while Seth and Isis both watched with amusement and confusion. The first time in a long time Seth had felt some kinship with his sister. And then seeing Isis’ annoyance that it was actually just a gift for Seth.
No, Seth reminded himself. Osiris would never do something that kind.
Seth frowned at the thought. Horus? Kind? Was he thinking of the right Horus? He turned back over onto his side, realized he was facing Horus’ bed, then rolled back on his back, glaring at the ceiling.
He shut his eyes. And prayed to forget this whole cursed day.