Chapter Text
Horus looked over Egypt in the morning sunshine, thinking again how beautiful the capitol was as it spread to the horizon, the many buildings, temples, and farms nestling along the Nile. How vast it was. How he could spend so much more of his time getting to know it.
Wondering what it would have been like with his father showing him.
“Taking a break from all the reports?” Isis asked as she stepped out on the balcony with him. She was beautiful as ever, and had not yet begun the morning audiences, so she still had time to relax with him. She looked calm and bright, and dressed in her usual finery, wearing her typical long wig and copious jewelry.
“Just for the moment,” Horus replied, looking back over their kingdom, his headdress shrouding his eyes. “I was… thinking of Father.”
Isis was quiet for a moment, and he could picture the unreadable expression that usually came over her face when Osiris came up. He knew it pained her, so he didn’t try talking about it much.
“…What about your father?” she asked, quietly.
“I was thinking to try my hand at the investigation into his murder.”
“Horus…” she began to chide.
He turned to her, and now he could see her worry. She didn’t want him to be sad, despite the fact that this was one injury she could never heal, like a broken bone or a cut, and he imagined it grated her: the one kind of illness even her magic could fix.
Horus had never met his father, and Isis seldom spoke of him, except to be sad about him.
“I wish to give it a try,” Horus continued. “If someone could kill the God of Life, who knows what threat they pose to the kingdom?”
“It’s been nearly 30 years,” Isis insisted. “Surely they’d have done something by now if they wanted more than killing Osiris. And yet,” she gestured to the city before them, “Egypt prospers.”
“It doesn’t bother you that this person managed what should be impossible?” Horus asked.
She frowned. “You ask if it bothers me that they murdered my husband?”
“Ahh… forgive me, Mother, I meant no disrespect.”
She sighed and waved it away. “Yes, it bothered me. But when no threat presented itself, I worked harder on bolstering our defenses. Improving my own skills. And no new threat has presented itself. …Outside of perhaps an endless stream of petitions I often wonder how Osiris dealt with.”
Horus smiled, but his expression quickly sobered. “I still wish to uncover it. This was a threat to the Ennead. It must be dealt with.”
She looked at him with an exasperated expression. "Why now?"
"You are giving me more responsibility lately, but I still have some free time to myself. I must take advantage before I am too busy with other matters. Before... I had more time to think, but it felt less urgent. Now I realize... perhaps it is time to end the mystery once and for all."
She sighed, quietly. "Very well."
“I was thinking it over last night,” Horus continued, “and as I reviewed Maat and Nephthys’ reports of the investigation, I realized no one had asked Uncle Seth about where he was at the time Father was killed.”
“Why your uncle in particular?”
“After looking at all the witness statements, the other gods who typically resided here were questioned, but not him, and he was the only outlier. There’s not even really any motive for most anyone here to hurt Father. He was Pharaoh and Egypt prospered under his rule, and the other gods have many followers and temples. But as Father’s brother, with no other heir apparent, Seth had much to gain from Father’s death: the throne. Though regicide is unfathomable in Egypt, we hear tales every day of our neighbors warring over the right to rule. And given the way members of the Ennead often vie for authority, it seems possible that at least a god who fights for victory might vie for such authority himself. And given how universally loved Osiris was, it seems the only explanation for why someone would do it.”
Isis crossed her arms. “While I see your points, for starters, Seth never cared to rule. Note also that he didn’t return from the desert to claim the throne, even at the funeral. And he loved your father…” Her gaze grew distant for a moment, then she sighed. “And at the time of Osiris’ murder, Seth was off in the desert, like he had been for a month. Eyewitnesses saw him fighting against raiders that day.”
“I saw eyewitnesses were questioned, but you still never asked him directly? There are many ways to kill someone from a distance, particularly for someone trained especially in the art of combat.”
Isis rolled her eyes. “Seth isn’t wily like that. He likes a game just as much as anyone else, but of the four of us – my siblings and I – I was really the only one with a head for that sort of thing. Seth in particular prefers direct combat. And as for why I never asked him, at the time of the investigation I was mostly concerned with being pregnant.” She raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “I would suggest you try being pregnant with a god at some point, and see how much free time it gives you to go wandering around looking for clues. Particularly while trying to make sure your dead husband’s kingdom doesn’t fall apart without someone sitting on the throne and no living heir.”
“Ahh,” Horus lowered his head, allowing his headdress to shadow more of his face. “Forgive me, again, Mother. I meant no disrespect.” He sighed. “I do not wish to criticize the work you and the others performed. I simply want answers. Osiris was my father, after all. And as the pharaoh, how can I not worry about what fate might await me, given my predecessor’s fate?”
She stepped forward and reached out to squeeze his right shoulder. “It’s all right. I understand. And I will always be here to protect you. And you are so strong,” she smiled fondly at him. “I have faith in your abilities.”
He smiled back.
Finally, she sighed. “If you wish to speak to Seth, you have my blessing. But…” She swallowed. “Respect that he may not wish to talk to you. He never explained why he left, but I can’t imagine there’s no reason why he hasn’t come back. And it’s not that he’s unable to.” She looked away, her expression pained, and said, “Even at Osiris’ funeral he kept his distance from everyone, and then left as soon as he was allowed. And he spoke to no one other than me, in greeting, on his arrival.”
“You watched him that much?” Horus was genuinely curious. Had she suspected him, as well? Watching to see what he did?
“He and I used to be close,” she replied with a sad smile. “He’s my brother, after all. In some ways, we were even closer than Osiris and I, for at least Seth was not Pharaoh, and could speak with me about more casual matters more often, without matters of state taking up his time.” She sighed. “But I fear that closeness is gone. And I often wish… I knew why.”
“I hadn’t decided whether to go find him myself or send for him," Horus said, "but perhaps if you wish to speak with him, it would be better to send for him… Or you could come with me to find him.”
“I do not want to order him here to be interrogated,” she replied, firmly, “especially if word gets out you’re investigating Osiris’ death again, and people start suspecting it was him just because we’re asking questions. So you should go find him, but someone must remain to manage the kingdom while you are absent." She smiled. "Thankfully there are two of us on the throne. Go. Return as soon as you can. I can only handle so much without you.”
“You mean you handle most everything,” Horus said with a smile. “Leaving me the dregs to feel even slightly relevant.”
She smirked. “Please. They’re the boring dregs I don’t feel like bothering with.” She kissed his cheek and went back inside.
Horus turned back to the vista before him, and the wind whispered through his headdress, pulling at him. He called his falcon wings, stepped up onto the railing, and leapt.
Finding Seth took some time. He apparently moved his camp every few days to different parts of the desert, and sometimes didn’t even stay with it, choosing to wander around in his chariot with his sand winged crocodiles. It took nearly a week just to find the most recent spot Seth had taken up camp, and Horus was lucky enough to find the god resting within, at least according to the scared human servant cleaning plates outside the large tent.
Horus dismissed his wings and walked up to the large, pale tent flap. He called within, “Uncle? It is Horus, your nephew. I wish to speak with you.”
Silence greeted him.
Horus knew a god like Seth would be immediately alert, and wondered if this was meant as an insult to the God Supreme. But Horus reined in his temper. He was somewhat used to it – Isis wielded far more power in Egypt, still, and had for decades. The kingdom was still getting used to Horus being in charge with her. And his mother was more trained in the role than he.
Plus, he imagined getting criticized by his nephew wouldn’t make Seth all that amenable to being honest and open to questions.
After a time, Horus called again, “Uncle?”
“Oh fuck off,” a masculine voice replied from within. “You may be co-ruler with your mother, but that doesn’t matter out here.”
Horus blinked. “Uncle, I am not ordering you to do anything. I merely wish to talk with you.”
More silence.
Eventually, Seth said, “Fine.”
Horus pushed back the tent flap and stepped inside. Once he adjusted to the lowered lighting – it was growing dark outside, and there were only a couple thin torches in the tent – he blinked in surprise at the sight before him.
Seth sat on a simple cot, his black animal mask over a white khat with golden fringe covering most of his face but for his lower jaw. He wore a simple black shendyt around his hips. A thick golden usekh around his neck, a set of gold bracelets, armlets, and anklets, adorned his limbs, but he was otherwise lacking in paint or ornamentation. His pale skin resembled the desert at midday, and was warmed by the firelight. He was lithe, but not frail – Horus could see the musculature on him. An attractive enough god, Horus supposed.
Horus had never met Seth: Isis was still pregnant during Osiris’ funeral, and like Isis said, Seth had never visited the palace since. Horus only had artwork on the walls and by priests and Seth's other worshipers to go by, and stories about how beastly he was in combat, or how wise he was in strategy. Horus remembered one wall in particular, depicting Seth and Isis playing board games together. It was alongside art of his parents together, and Horus' eyes often strayed to this other piece, wondering about the mysterious god playing games with the Goddess of Magic.
Horus had also seen drawings of Seth's sacred animal as it ranged. Horus had run into a few sha during his travels, curious about their bright red and dark black coats, but they were wary creatures, and fled from him, to seek out easier prey.
Seth was frowning at him, though Horus obviously couldn’t quite tell his expression through the large headdress. The creature’s red eyes were meant to be intimidating, but they just felt… distancing, like the false creature’s long snout.
“Well?” Seth demanded, without bothering to get up.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Uncle,” Horus said, nodding his head slightly rather than chastising the other god for not bowing to his pharaoh. Horus had not expected such impertinence, but then again, this god was the sibling of Horus’ parents. Horus saw some of Isis in the man’s demeanor.
“I’m sure,” Seth replied, drily. He stood up and crossed his arms. Horus realized Seth was… actually shorter somehow than his own nephew. Horus was used to it with Isis, but given she always said even Horus was shorter than Osiris, it was strange to see Osiris’ brother this… small.
He hadn’t expected the God of the Desert to be small.
“I came to speak to you of my father’s murder,” Horus began.
He noticed that Seth’s right pinky finger twitched, but the other god didn’t say anything.
“We never discovered who the culprit was,” Horus continued, wondering. Did Seth know something?
“And…?” Seth finally asked. “You think I did it?”
“Are you offering a confession?” Horus asked.
Seth twitched, and then laughed, “So the baby bird has talons after all.” He uncrossed his arms and made to walk past Horus and out of the tent, but Horus reached out and grabbed his left wrist.
“Do not touch me!” Seth yelled as he twisted out of the grip and made to flip Horus over.
Horus was surprised at the sudden anger, but spun around… only to find he was grasping at sand quickly flying out of the tent. Horus ran out himself and saw Seth leap into a large chariot parked outside, even as he formed his giant winged sand crocodiles to lead it, and as Seth cried out, "Ha!", they quickly carried the god away.
Horus called his wings and flew after Seth. When he drew close, he called out, “Uncle! I simply wish to talk! I apologize for upsetting you!”
“Ha!” Seth yelled, but otherwise ignored him. From this angle, Horus had a better view of Seth’s angry expression.
Horus grimaced, but kept pace. He tried a different tack, “Uncle, surely you wish to discover the identity of your brother’s killer?”
“So you no longer believe it’s me?” Seth demanded, still facing ahead.
“I have no proof of anything,” Horus called back, flying beside him, but not too close. “But I was not alive back then. You were.”
Seth didn’t say anything to that. After a time, though, he said, “You’re a decent enough fighter, it seems. Shall we test your skills?”
“What?” Horus asked, confused.
“Over that rise,” Seth pointed at a large dune they were rapidly approaching, “are enemies of Egypt. Will you fight at my side?”
“...Of course, Uncle.” It would be an honor to do that. Although Horus had gone hunting before, Horus had never fought Egypt’s enemies in such a way, and Seth’s abilities were legendary.
“Very well. Try not to die.” Seth called his black bow, and spurred his crocodiles onward.
Once they all crested the dune, Horus saw a small army of monstrous creatures spread before them. They wore bits of unfamiliar armor, and held spears, swords, bows, shields… And all of them turned to Seth and Horus.
Horus was shocked, as he hadn’t even sensed them! And they seemed endless.
Seth roared as his chariot charged into the mass.
Horus called for the wind and went after him.
Seth was a glory to behold in combat.
As the great-great-grandson and inheritor of Ra, grandson of Geb, and the son of Osiris, Horus was born a warrior and leader, skilled in many forms of combat, and he’d trained with some of the best warriors in Egypt, at Isis’ insistence. He was strong, fast, and smart.
Seth was a force of nature. Horus was the wind, but Seth was like an ocean on the land, charging through enemies like an unstoppable tide, shooting through whole clumps of them with his fearsome bow, and then easily cutting them down in droves with his black khopesh, and leaping to the next before you could even see him land the final blow, whether with his hands and their claws, his fast and powerful legs, his giant sand creatures, or the assortment of weapons he could call from nothing. He cut a swathe through those surrounding him, then leapt into the air and dove into another group of them. He’d use his sand to knock them down, or pick them up with giant sand hands and toss them leagues away.
Horus had seen many gods at work in different tasks over the years, and many trained fighters. There was wonder in someone who was good at what they did working at it.
But Seth, like this, was beautiful.
Horus kept pausing to watch him, feeling something stir deep inside himself at the sight.
And in moments between the deluge of enemies, roars, growls, screams, and the sound of metal on metal and flesh being rent in two, or the roar of fast-moving, heavy sand, Horus would see flashes of Seth grinning as he cut down another enemy, or hear a snatch of laughter, or another yell of triumph.
It seemed an age and only a moment before the two of them stood alone amongst a sea of corpses.
Seth seemed entirely unscathed, whereas Horus sported a few scrapes, mostly gained from being distracted by Seth.
Horus realized Seth was watching him. The god of the desert somehow appeared taller out here in the open, and his pale skin was even starker against the sea of dead enemies and the bloodied sand.
“You did fine enough,” Seth said eventually, dismissively. “But you’re too easily distracted.”
“It was only due to watching you, Uncle,” Horus replied, smiling. “Watching you fight is a joy I hope to witness again! And soon!”
Seth snorted, but there was the inkling of a smile at his lips. “Flatterer. Just like your mother. And just like…” He paused, then turned back to his chariot.
“Would you tell me of my father?” Horus asked, stepping forward.
Seth stood in his chariot, holding the reins but not sending his beasts forward.
“I did not know him,” Horus insisted. “If nothing else, I wish for that.” He wished it could get through. Horus did not know if the god before him had murdered Osiris, but being around him made the idea of his father seem more real, somehow. Of the four, Horus only knew Isis and Nephthys, neither of whom spoke much about Osiris other than his achievements as Pharaoh, yet here was the last of the siblings: the god of the desert, Osiris’ brother, who had stood at his side and made Egypt strong.
Horus only wished for a part of the last piece. And if Isis and Seth had been close once, surely Seth would understand.
Seth sighed. “Return tomorrow, and ask me your questions then.” Seth called, “Ha!” to his crocodiles and they took off.
“How did it go?” Isis asked after Horus returned to his room in the capitol. She’d been watching for his return, as she often did, sitting on a couch and playing her lute - a gift from Maat and Thoth - while she did. He could tell she’d been staring at the window sometime when he approached.
A part of him wondered if she was hoping he was Osiris. He knew his mother had taken others to her bed over the years, but not for long, despite encouragement from Nephthys and Hathor. Sometimes such things seemed to even make her sadder. And though she was charismatic and often chatting with this or that god or goddess, she was often more alone once her duties were over than not, with a forlorn expression on her face. He ached for her.
“Well, I think,” Horus said, walking to a bowl of water to clean off his hands. “Though Seth is somewhat… difficult to talk to.”
She smiled. “He could be like that, at times. If he didn’t want to talk to you, he’d just turn into sand and leave.”
“Yes… He did, at one point.”
“So you’ve given up?”
“No,” Horus said. “I return to him tomorrow, to ask him more questions.”
“Then you’ve learned something from him?” She asked, surprised.
“I’ve learned… he is interesting.”
An unreadable expression came over Isis’ face, then she shrugged and said, “I suppose he is.” She smiled. “Hathor asked after you while you were gone, you know. She is growing more persistent.”
“I know,” Horus replied. “And I have no answers for her, yet.”
“If you are not interested in her, you can simply let her know,” Isis said.
“I enjoy her company. I think… she would make a fine queen.” But I am not certain I wish her to be mine… He did not want to hurt her feelings, though.
Isis smiled, likely noting his hesitation. “I understand. In any case, I think I'll go rest.” She touched his cheek gently. “It is good to see you home again, Horus. Good night. And good luck.” She pulled her hand away, cradled her lute, and walked out of the room.
Horus looked out the window to the moon, lighting up their beautiful capitol. It was good to be home again, surrounded by all the lives they kept safe and secure.
He thought about Seth resting in his tent in the desert, alone but for a small following of servants to clean up after him, and what mindless animals he formed out of the sand around him. Even Isis, closeted as she could be out of grief and to protect her secrets, kept an entourage of servants and advisors, and was often consulting with other gods. Nephthys managed temples and an army of administrators. Hathor was always going from human gathering to gathering, usually parties. And Maat and Thoth had each other, and were seldom out of each other’s company. With what relatively little Horus knew of gods, he knew that they could be loners, at times, preferring the adulation of mortals than the competition of proximity with other immortals, but he knew they also craved company.
Yet Seth had attempted to push Horus, likely the only other god who had visited for some time, away. To get Horus and all he represented out of Seth’s life. So that Seth could return to his solitary cot in a tent in the middle of nowhere, with a few servants who were wary of any outsiders. A god like Seth, famous for his deeds in wartime, with his own grand temples, sibling to two of Egypt’s leaders, and uncle to the other, would be welcome anywhere.
What was it like to prefer that isolation instead? And why? Even Horus, given to solitary wanderings at times, and quiet hunts, liked Hathor’s company, or working alongside his mother and advisors.
He sighed and turned to bed. The morning. More questions. He would learn.