Archive of Our Own ^beta

The past.

1.

The reincarnation of the god of war, they had told him, since the day he was born. The second life of Seth the god, of the king of the red sands. 

Born for greatness, to some. Destined for tragedy, to others. To his parents he was born for their names, for their powers and for their earnings. 

"You will do great things," his mother had told him, since the very moment he was born. It was strange; she had never combed his scarlet locks or even graced his pale skin, but when he looked at her, he did see the sky. 

"You are our future," his father had followed with. Always cold. Always earthen and plain. There was a certain sentiment in all of his statements - they weren’t always easy to understand, but they were there. 

And while most would think that his childhood was lonely - and perhaps it was, he's still confused about it - the memories were mostly enough to keep him company. And that voice, that voice that had followed him since he was born, it never left him alone, never left him lonely. 

He's never known who any of this belonged to, but when he stared at the birds in the trees or felt the winds behind his ears, he always felt at home.

[And a little bit angry.]

2.

The moment Seth had turned eighteen, he was sent off to be married. It was political, of course, but still, it was with Nephthys, and that was the best arrangement he could have hoped for. 

She was lonely too. They were both in university at the time, but he had known her since she was small, and she - just like him - was born with the curse of being the reincarnation of a god. And with that, living a life she was apparently meant to live, but not the one she wanted. 

She had always seemed happy, though that wasn’t really a surprise. Nephthys had a naivety that kept her life simple. 

And she was always terrifyingly obedient to her parents. If happiness was what they instructed, happiness was what she would give.

[He's always known it would be her. If they were staying true to the temple walls and the hieroglyphs then yes, they were always set in stone. And reincarnations of gods follow the gods.]

Still, Nephthys loved him, or so she said. And he loved her. He didn't know if it was in the way that he should; he still dreams of falcons and summer gales (those are the warmest) but at the time, it was enough. 

So he slept in the same bed as her, slept with her, and tried his best to be a husband. He bought her gifts and took her for dinners, and though it felt wrong in a way that he could not articulate then (the voice in his head could,) he continued. 

It was just how it should be.

He loved her.

[He tried to.]

3.

On a rainy evening in the late days of May, Seth held his firstborn for the first time. 

Firstborn. He was so much more than that. His firstborn, his first love - sure love, the first time in his life where that furious voice in his head stayed quiet, and melted just as he did. His first everything; his everything. Before his son, he had never felt such a blooming warmth in his chest. He did then. 

[Do you remember?]

Anubis, they had named the child, after the gods. After the legends, as it should be.

And though he'd rather have named his son something besides the keeper of the dead, he supposed that he never really had a choice in this life at all, and it wasn't like he was getting one then. 

It doesn't matter, he thought, because in the end, Anubis was still his little, breathing, first love; what was a name when there was a soul to adore?

Anubis. His little boy. Starlight - when Seth looked at him that was what he was. Guiding constellations or unbridled warmth in the depths of winter. Seth remembers his breath hitching as Anubis grasped his finger for the first time.

I love you.

And this love- he stayed true to it. He had stayed so awfully , undoubtedly true to it. He was there when Anubis had laughed for the first time, he had caught Anubis when he walked his first steps but inevitably fell. He had been Anubis' first word, and he was the person who read him his first story. He tied the laces of Anubis’ first pair of shoes, and unwrapped his first can of sweets. 

It  was all-encompassing. It always was. It was fated to be. Anubis. His little boy in his little family. Always meant to be. Anubis was fated to be. For his son, Seth never thought otherwise. There was nothing to regret. Not like there was a point in regret anyways.

It was all fated to be. 

[Or so he was told.]

It’s why when Anubis turned three, he wondered, for the very first time, if that was why it hurt so much to have had Nephthys throw herself on the floor, right next to his feet.

"I'm so sorry ," she cried, and Seth remembers how she couldn't even look at him. "But it's the truth. Anubis isn't your son. I-"

He hadn't heard the rest. 

He couldn't. The sound of his ears ringing were far louder. 

That, as well as the sobbing voice in his head. It seemed so lonely and so wronged . It must have been tired of reliving the same things over and over, again and again. 

"Seth." She sobbed louder as she reached to slide her arms around his neck. Seth wondered why she had even told him; perhaps the guilt was too much to bear, perhaps she was told to. "I still love you." 

[She had probably just loved not disappointing.]

Either way, she was a liar. Seth cared not for what she had to say or tell him. He couldn’t anyways. Couldn’t. 

All he could hear was Anubis' crying from the other end of the door. He must've been so confused; mother and father never fought.

It made him ask, then. Was this even a fight? It was more of torture. Nephthys was crying and he was trembling and every part of him was beyond comforting. He was always able to calm down the voices and thoughts, drown them out, but now, they were unconsolable. Still, he wasn't even sure they were a part of him, or something else. 

My little boy, Seth had thought, pushing himself off the chair and sliding past the crying form of his wife. He tugged her off like she was nothing - and back then she really was - and let her drop to the floor. The moment he pushed open the door, Anubis was barreling into his arms. 

My son. Nothing can change this. 

But his hands trembled suspiciously. If Nephthys was a liar, so was he. Was he lying then? Seth could never tell whose thoughts it was that he heard. 

[You should be angry. ]

My son, he told himself again, but it got emptier each time he said it. There was an anger seeping in his veins - this, he understood. What he did not get, however, was why he was so afraid.

4.

Seth had always despised depending on people; not that anyone had given him any reason to either. It was loneliness, one chapter after the next, a never ending cycle.

It's why he detested asking help from Osiris so much. Or maybe it was something else, but he couldn't really put his finger on it. 

That voice was shrieking, though, but it had been doing that a lot lately. Seth wished it would just be quiet.

Still. It wasn't as if he had anyone else to go to. Surely Isis would have been comforting Nephthys then. Or micromanaging her son. Whichever it was. How old was that boy anyways? A child? A teenager? A young adult, perhaps? Seth had never met him. Isis had never wanted him to, for whatever reason. 

Osiris was the only other person he would think to trust. The fact that he was marginally older helped too; he was experienced, and could tell which side a dime would land on all before it was flicked.

[You fool.]

"I can't believe she'd do that," Seth said, head pressed to the table. "I just- my son -"

"Perhaps she just felt worried," Osiris reasoned, pushing him a glass, full to the brim with liquor. "Were you two having trouble conceiving?"

Seth shrugged as he downed the alcohol. He had never tried forgetting before- he did then. "I don't know," he admitted. "But even if we were, why didn't she speak to me first? She lied to me for years." 

My son.

Osiris patted his back, then. "She was likely trying to protect your pride as a man. Perhaps you were the reason why you two could not have a child." 

Seth allowed Osiris' words to settle in his head. He tipped the alcohol into his mouth, and he enjoyed the burn. 

The pain of his entire situation- it hurt. It hurt a lot. But Osiris was reasonable- he was a levelheaded, caring man, and his bluntness here must've been for Seth's sake. In all of his brutality there was a kindness. 

Or so he believed.

He swallowed down another mouthful of Hennessy. And another, and another.

And then he felt-

Sluggish. Unnaturally so. 

Seth was never an incredibly heavy drinker, but he knew his alcohol. 

And its effects. This wasn't normal.

His arm went limp as his vision blurred, and his head landed with a thud on the table.

His eyes widened. 

"What did you- do to me?" He slurred, struggling to move. Something dark swarmed in his chest. "Those drinks, you-"

Osiris rested a hand on his back.

"Allow me to help you," he whispered, and palms had started sliding against his skin. Osiris lifted him up from below the thighs and back, and then there was no escape.

It hurts to remember, so it's unfortunate that he does. The look on Osiris' face, those wretchedly gentle calls, that possessive grip. The worst part of it all was that Seth was sure Osiris had thought that was real love. 

Mine, mine, mine , Osiris had called through all of it. He traced his tongue down Seth's nape and sucked bruises into his skin. It was disgusting.

Seth can still recall the shakes that wracked his shoulders as Osiris had forced himself in, and pushed him against the mirror. Osiris held him there for awhile, as Seth cried and cried.

Then: "That child is mine," Osiris had confessed, without any guilt. 

It took a moment to digest, but that confession alone was enough to physically tear his heart apart. It was a crushing weight on him, burning and heavy. It drove him right into the core of the Earth, where he would only burn further.

Be angry. 

With all the strength he could muster, he shoved Osiris off in a fit of sloppy movements, collapsing in a heap of his own sweaty limbs. 

"Seth, what's wrong?" Osiris asked. He asked. 

Seth reeled back as Osiris made chase. It was then that he realised Osiris would never let him go.

There was no escape. "You, fuck-!" He cried, as Osiris caught hold of his ankle again, tugging him forward. 

He struggled. 

Of course he did. There was no winning this- he knew. But he struggled anyways, because back then, he had things to live for.

My son. 

[Could he call him that?] 

Surrender was not an option here, no matter the answer. So he continued hissing and biting, reeling and fighting - and there was no sky to take him home then; he looked at the ceiling and it was an atrociously lonely grey. 

Then, in his fit of struggling came a saviour. It happened as he desperately tugged on the leg of the table, and the glasses of wine came falling down.

And breaking.

Into nine pieces.

Seth's head worked quickly; he did what he could to escape, and in one swift act, grabbed a shard of glass and slit it across his throat.

5.

Afterwards, Seth woke up in an awfully sterile room. White and plain, and it smelt so artificial. He took one look to the side and ah- the burn in his neck, the stitches, he could feel it all. 

Beside him, the heart monitor was beating. A cruel reminder that he was alive. 

But this consciousness hadn't lasted for long; it was only a few seconds before he was dead to the world again. 

When he did wake, however, Isis - or what remained of her - was beside him. He didn't really know what he felt at the time, but it was something incredibly painful.

"I-I," he coughed out weakly. Why did he even try to speak? 

"Don't." Her eyebrows pulled themselves into a fearsome scowl. Seth had seen her like that before; he swore she commanded the Nile with that same expression, once.

And as he expected, her question left him reeling. "You enjoyed it, didn't you?" 

It hurt all the same. Seth was left breathless and terrified- because no, he did not, and please, he would never-

"Because of you my husband is in prison ," she hissed, and her hands balled into fists. She never let him speak, her fury was an entity of its own. "The doctors said you had tears and injuries and- I don't understand how you could do this to me. They said it was signs of rape , but Osiris-"

The heart monitor sped up rapidly. Seth's breathing turned erratic. 

Isis, please. 

If there is someone I need to believe me, it is you.

"My husband is a wonderful man, " she insisted. Denial. Seth had seen it in himself many times. "He would never. Did you ask for this? How did you force yourself on him?" 

Please. Come back.

Seth's hand twitched. 

"Why did you do this to him? You've ruined me, you've ruined my family," she hissed, but instead of waiting for an answer, she turned on her heel. She refused to even look at him after that. "I despise you."

I'm drowning. 

When he was discharged after days and nights of sleeplessness and sorrow, Seth went home, wherever that was. 

[If this is love, I do not want it.]

Anubis was being held by Nephthys at the shoulder when he entered. He smiled at him- all childlike wonder and warmth. 

Seth could not smile back. He walked away.

6.

On the day Anubis turned four, Seth didn't pick him up from nursery. He hadn't ever, really, but that day he left work early, only to go home to set up for his little boy's birthday. 

Leave the past behind you, he thought sternly, reminding himself to change for the uncountable time that year. Because in truth he had turned cold- terrifyingly cold, so unlike the father he once was. What's worse was that he couldn't help it. 

The convincing never worked.

That's still your son. Your little boy. Go show him you love him. He needs it. He misses you.

He isn't my son.

[You know the truth.]

When he got home, Nephthys was sobbing on the floor, her phone thrown aside. 

He wondered what it was this time. If there would have been another child in her stomach that wasn't his - if there would have been another blatant reminder that he was born for this bondaged life, and that no one could love him for what he truly was.

Instead, she turned to look him in the eye as she chewed on her already bleeding lips.

"Anubis was in an accident," she whispered, as Seth's ears started bleeding. "He was dead before the doctors could even get there."

On that day, his little boy was supposed to turn four. 

[If there is one thing I regret, it is not loving you more.]

7.

Shortly after Seth lay his son to rest in the soft Earth, he realised that the ties between him and his wife were far too taut, and so he took it upon himself to snap them.

I can't do this anymore, he told her, over a message. Goodbye.

And it wasn't as if he expected her to come begging him to stay, or throwing herself at his feet, but he had expected some extent of resistance, of guilt and of terror. 

He had expected her to say that she still loved him, somewhat, because that was what she had always said. 

What he hadn't expected, however, was her replying with I understand. I feel the same, but that was exactly what he got.

And that night, he had gone home to a lonely house, far too quiet and far too austere for his liking, and when he lay on his bed, it was stiff and cold.

No little dents and bumps, no bouncy giggles, no crawling warmth at his side as he shuffled into the bed. 

A stiff, cold bed- a stiff, cold body. As his firstborn, as Anubis was; mutilated and broken to the point where Seth had stared at his corpse and wondered. Wondered, who and what that was.

His firstborn, his little boy, little love. Larger than life itself.

Seth couldn't recognise him. He just saw blood, and the tiny fingers that once grasped his own covered in it. Torn from the rest of his body.

His phone lit up. 

A message from his mother.

Odd. She wasn't there at Anubis' funeral, but she was always a busy person. Perhaps this was her paying tribute, finally. 

From: Mother

Anubis didn't die in the legends.

From: Mother

What did you do wrong?

When he stared out at the sky, it was raining, and his cheeks were suspiciously wet. 

8.

The days bled into weeks, and the weeks bled into months. And Seth - Seth bled internally as well. Even as everyone else moved on. Even as the skies darkened, and the seasons cooled. Even as the scar on his neck faded. 

"It isn't that deep, you're lucky," the doctors had told him, but they were wrong. That was exactly why he was unlucky. 

Life had continued, however, and would continue, with or without him. But some sort of sickening pride always kept him going, even if he spent most of his nights sleepless and sobbing.

Prove them wrong. Show them you're angry.

But who? Who was "them"? Who was even watching?

Find him. You're longing, you need to-

‘Him’?

[The wind is awfully warm.]

I just want to see my son again.

His head was a mess, then. Always spinning and swimming. Everyday, he dissected the same memories over and over, again and again and again . Anubis’ small hands, Anubis’ large smiles. His high-pitched squeals and laughs as Seth swung him over his shoulder. 

Those stopped existing in  the last year of his son’s life. 

He silenced those regrets with alcohol. 

I should have told you I loved you more. I should have. 

More liquor swallowed. was easy. To not think at all; living off a diet that would quench his sorrows and quell his pain. Silence all of the shrieking. 

Collapse into bed at night and forget for a few hours.

That was the easiest. 

Wake up, work, speak.

That was the hardest.

Then, it became years, and the sadness warped into something far more twisted. 

[You are angry.]

9.

One day, completely out of the blue, Seth had decided to stroll in the more common parts of the city. It was a nice day - though the sky (he saw) was still pitch black - and so he continued, even as he reached the busy streets of the area. 

He ventured through the entirety of it. All the way to the far back, where there was something colourful blooming. It seemed to be somewhat of a flower yard, full of swarming bees and passing birds. And a sign on the side - a dainty cafe. If Anubis was alive, Seth would have loved to take him here.

That was enough. Out of raw compulsion, he stepped into it. 

It just felt right, for some reason. Seth had learned by that point that trying to explain things with himself - and let alone, finding reason - was next to impossible. 

Not like there was any risk to it; life was a stagnant cycle. Trusting no one at all (and not even himself) was easy, it took him through the motions and let himself numb.

So as he sat down, it was safe to say he felt nothing at all. That fucking voice shut up for once too. It was okay.

It was quiet. 

The bustle around him was negative; everyone kept to themselves for the most part. They would place their orders and return to their seats, standing only to discard their rubbish or collect trays.

He worked. It was easy - easier. So far from home, away from all those terrible memories, though he’d never admit it. Admitting it would mean knowing that that place was bad for him. It wasn’t- that’s just where Anubis was. 

[Anubis is dead. He’s not there either.]

Shut the fuck up.

Still, shredded limbs of his son aside, it was slightly warmer here.

And he wasn't bothered. 

Until-

"You dropped this," a man told him, blushing a little. Seth had no idea who he was, or when he had even gotten here. It was terrifying. 

But still, Seth looked.  The man was young and handsome; his face was finely sculpted and he was clean and shaven. Undoubtedly good looking. He had people throwing themselves at his feet often, Seth was sure.  

That was not what he was appalled by, though. There was something oddly... homely about him. He didn't know what it was, couldn't tell and couldn't understand- but there was longing. Something of the sort, from the voice in his head. 

He settled with anger.

That boy- stupid. Seth hadn't brought any paper with him.

He took it anyway. And he snatched that paper out of the man's hands, enjoying the way it crumpled and tore at the corners. 

Heru - 01× ××× ×××× .

A phone number. How charming. Seth threw the sheet away. He hoped Heru saw.

10.

For some odd, unknown reason, Seth returned to the cafe again . No rhyme, at all, no explanation. He just had to. 

[Anubis would have loved it.]

And there- there was that man again, still towering over him, still cold and alluring. 

Alluring to the voice. Not him, never him. Never was, never will be. 

And he came back again. With another terrible way of trying to get Seth to speak to him, before he trudged off in failure.

And again, the next time.

And again. And again.

And again.

"Never one to give up, are we?" He asked then, because it was true; the only person who chased Seth this much was himself. "What do you want?"

"A date, truthfully," Heru said, tinted sunglasses high on his face. He stood cooly, with his hands hanging at his sides. Everything he did was quiet; his footsteps and the way he spoke, all so unlike Seth, who was always the war and the sand. Heru reminded him a little of the sky, but in a way that mother was not.

"And if I give you one, will you leave me alone?" Seth took another sip of his coffee. He felt pretty that day. 

Heru gulped.

"Yes."

And Seth didn't know why he caved and agreed, but he did.

The present.

1.

"You're late," Seth says, staring down at his watch. Heru breathes heavily as he seats himself down. 

"My sincere apologies," he uprightly says, rather than just an 'I'm sorry'. "Something came up unexpectedly."

Seth raises an eyebrow. "You were the one that wanted this." 

Heru nods. "I am not always like this." He scratches the back of his neck. Bashful. Interesting. "I promise."

"You say that as if you will get another chance to prove it." He scoffs. Heru looks unshaken, yet terrified. Odd. "Either way, just get whatever you want."

"You're not eating?" Heru asks, baffled. 

Good . Seth smirks. He's being unpleasant, isn't he? Fantastic.

[ Don't. ]

His eyes twitch. He shakes it off. And gestures at the glass of wine he's swirling between his fingers. 

Ignore it.

Heru's breath hitches. "I see." He's quick to compose himself. But still- Seth isn't stupid. He can see it all: the boiling, bubbling blood that pools in Heru's vein. Something is unsettling him. It's only a matter of time until that painted porcelain mask of his cracks.

He watches as Heru calls a waiter over - so polite - and sits idly as Heru starts to eat. Everything he does is so incredibly well mannered. He reeks of self righteousness and nobility.

So despite how taken aback he is, it's why Seth cannot help but burst out laughing when Heru dumbly blurts out: "You're the man I always see in my dreams." The blush that sprawls across Heru face speaks for itself.

"Did you mean to say that?" Seth coyly asks, even though he knows the answer. He crosses his legs. "I thought you'd be a man with a smart tongue. I guess I was wrong."

"Ah, I-" Heru chokes out. "What do you mean by that?" 

Seth doesn't really know, if he's being honest. In a way, there's something painful about the familiarity Heru makes him feel. It feels like home - his home, the one full of confusion and fury but a past of warmth and belonging.

He doesn't understand.

He never understands why, but it does, and he's just so incomprehensibly angry.  

For now, though, he swallows it down.

"Nothing," he says, taking a sip from his wine, which turns into a gulp. "Nothing. Forget I mentioned it."

Heru pauses, but eventually nods.

"So," Heru breathes out, clearly trying to come up with some mundane topic to ease off the tension.

"Do you like lettuce?" He asks, and Seth realises that for all of his bravery and all of his gallantry, Heru is a little bit of an idiot.

He thinks he might be okay with it.

And for reasons that Seth doesn't know - but he never knows, anyways - when Heru asks for another date, he begrudgingly agrees.

[It's an agreement nonetheless.]

2.

Their next date is a little similar, except Heru is early this time, and when Seth arrives he kisses his hand and pulls out the chair for him. 

"I don't need those gestures," Seth hisses, tugging himself away both times. Heru's mouth gapes. "I'm sure you're very used to charming women and the like, but it doesn't work with me." 

"My apologies," Heru says, rehearsed as ever. 

Seth scowls. When the waiter comes he orders a bottle of red wine. No meal. He ignores the way Heru stares at him with concern. "Whatever." 

Their next date is exactly the same. 

And so is the next, and the next, and the next. Except Heru gets a little bolder each time, no matter how shy he is during the moment. It starts with a hug after the date to a kiss at the start of the next one, and eventually, Heru gets brave enough to kiss him on the lips.

For whatever reason, Seth doesn't move away. He even kisses back a little, though he'll never initiate one.

[Never is a strong word.]

They learn more about each other too. Seth unknowingly starts to remember what kind of pastries Heru likes and his favourite type of bird, and Heru learns that Seth not only has a terrible temper but that it comes with a heart of glass and seashells that Seth tries incredibly hard to hide.

Each time Heru gets close to him Seth feels a burning heat in his chest. It hurts. It's searing and tearing him from the inside out. It feels vile. 

But each time he steps away, there's a melancholic longing that he feels. It weighs down on him- and all he can think of is Anubis' little body. He feels so heavy for days and days after; the loneliness seeps back in.

He prefers to be angry. It's why he stays, he thinks. 

It's also why when Heru gets brave enough to invite him over for the first time, Seth scoffs and pushes away from his chest.

"Me? Going to your place?" His voice reeks of disgust. "Never. My house is this way."

And Heru pushes him down and fucks him open - but it's so disgustingly gentle . He stares at Seth like he is the moon and the stars, and kisses him as if he is some revered god. 

[Even if you were a god once, you were not revered.

Do not fool yourself.]

And what's even worse is that even after Heru splits him open until he is sore and aching - even worse than Heru's concern during all of it - is that Heru lays him down, and holds him until he sleeps soundly for the first time since Osiris had taken everything away from him. Whenever that may have started.

His love is so overwhelming. It makes Seth want to crawl into a hole and rot. 

He can't live without it. 

When he wakes, the sun is so high up that in turn the world is black. But Heru is no longer on the bed and the ache and the voice are both starting to find their way to him.

"Where are you going?" Seth asks. Heru reaches down for his shirt.

"To see my mother," Heru explains, without shame. It's a practiced line.

Seth scoffs. Bitter. "You still visit your mother at this age?"

"Yes," Heru says, without missing a beat. That too, sounded rehearsed. "She expects great things from me. Don't you?"

"Don't I what?" Seth rolls over to face him. 

"Visit your mother." Heru sweeps a hand down his thigh. He cannot help but lean into it, even if it makes him feel like throwing up.

"No," Seth answers. His throat is a little dry.

Tell him.

"She's dead." It isn't a lie. 

A cough. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't be," Seth assures, cold and coy. "It's only to me."

Seth expects discomfort, but Heru must be used to him by now, because all he does is lean down and kiss him on the cheek. 

It leaves Seth reeling. 

Acceptance is strange. Seth runs to the bathroom and vomits until his throat is hoarse.

3.

We should stop seeing each other, is all Seth sends to Heru the next day, not so out of the blue. At least to him.

'He should've expected it,' Seth reasons, turning off his phone and throwing it aside. He goes off to work, then, because he has more important things to worry about than this.  

But the rain outside does not make it easier to think, and his mind cannot stop taking him on trails. 

He keeps reasoning with the voice in his head. Back and forth.

You want this. Why did you end it?

This was not even something that was supposed to happen. He agreed to one date because the voice in his head told him to, because there was a longing in him that he would drink the ocean to quench. But the voice in his head was always wrong , and this was supposed to prove it so. 

[Is it always wrong? Or are you always wrong?]

He stayed for the attention too, really; Heru made him feel so special. Heru made him forget. It was nice while he lasted.

It doesn't explain why every single part of him is mourning. It doesn't explain why his fingers burned as he typed that message out or why he still feels like he's dying, why he's still longing and wanting and waiting.

He's drowning, in every sense of the word. 

Heru comes knocking on his door about an hour later. Drenched and panting, he reaches out for Seth. 

Seth stands still. His eyes widen and he does not reach back, but he does allow Heru to hold him.

No words are said between them. Heru's return is a given.

Grasping each other's clothes, they stumble all the way upstairs and onto Seth's bed. 

"You are not my saviour," Seth clarifies as Heru kisses him until his lips are puffy. "You have destroyed me." 

Heru - terrified - pulls away. Seth drags him back down and they lick the tear tracks off each other's cheeks.

It's awfully quiet in his head; when he stares at Heru, all he sees is the sun rising. 

4.

The second time Seth ends it is after Horus says - dares to say - "I love you," and it makes him feel wretched in the way that watching your son die does. He almost loses it right there and then; they're at his house, and there's no shame in it, but he refuses to throw up in front of all the hanging photos of Anubis.

"Get away from me," he manages to hiss, before he shoots up from the table and charges to the toilet. 

That confession- that bloodsoaked confession made him realise what it is now- what about this relationship makes him feel so revolting. 

(Or well, one part of it, at least. Something about Heru makes him blanche - some familiarity, of some sort. But what that is he doesn't know.)

It's that all of this so-called love and happiness and warmth comes after Anubis died. If Anubis had never passed away, Seth wouldn't be here- he'd still be with Nephthys, and he'd still be so empty. Just like he is now, but with a woman who pretended to love him the same way he pretended with her.

[Are you happier now that he's gone?]

There's just no winning for him. It's incomprehensible.

And he can hear it, right at the top of his head with that other violent voice, the cry of Anubis, newborn yet at the age of four, begging for him to come home.

Are you happy that I died, father? It says, reaching for him. Are you happier now that I am gone? You hadn't told me you loved me in a long time- why didn't you? Were you always planning to replace me? 

He cries. No, no, no. Anubis- I miss you. I'm sorry and I want you to come home.  

[I wish I had told you I loved you more, while I could.]

Heru finds him a while later in a fit of delirium. His back is pressed against his marble walls and his eyes are blown wide. They've seen ghosts. 

Heru still loves him. It's so unfortunate. 

Seth stays. 

5.

For the first time in what feels like forever, there's a moment of peace between them; Seth doesn't try to end things at all, though the urge is still there. And Heru doesn't bring anything up or tries to hold anything against him. They simply move on.

"We should do something together," Heru offers, twisting a lock of crimson hair between his fingers. Seth sighs as he blinks away the anger and the fondness.

"Like what?" 

Heru shrugs. "It's your choice. Anything you want." 

What he wants is to forget. Or alcohol. Either of the two is fine. 

He doesn't say it out loud. "There's a botanical garden that just opened." 

"And you want to go?" Heru asks, leaning forward. "If you want to we can." 

Seth thinks on how the stalks of Wolfsbane looked on their pamphlet. They were always Anubis' favourite. "I don't know," he says, and Heru kisses him on the cheek just as he gets up. 

"Well if you want to, let me know. I'll pick you up."

They end up going, of course. Every display inside is outlandishly beautiful in the worst way possible. Seth stares at them and thinks of his son just as Heru does the same, but rather he thinks of Seth.

It hurts so incredibly badly, on both ends. 

[You'll never admit it, but you love him all the same.]

Seth stares at Heru and he feels his head swimming again. Heru squeezes his hand and he chokes back the bile.

When they step outside hours later, Seth's skin is a stark white. Heru's hand is bleeding from how hard Seth gripped it. Seth is still trying to force it all down. 

He reaches for his phone and checks the date, even though he knows what it is.

"Would you like to visit my son with me?" He asks, and Heru blinks.

6.

Eventually, the second anniversary of Anubis' death - and his sixth birthday - arrives. It is as gut wrenching as ever. 

The plan was always to spend the entire day grieving and pouring himself glasses of wine alone. But not now, now Heru is there to watch him do it.

"Seth," he calls, clearly concerned. He leans down to rub at Seth's shoulder. "I thought-?"

Seth blinks up at him like he's stupid. He wipes the drool from the side of his mouth. Liquid courage, they call it, and for a reason. 

"He's dead," Seth admits, teeth clenched. He starts to shake as he says it. It never gets easier.

[ Why? ]

For every time that he admits it out loud, the loneliness gets sharper. 

Heru flinches. He must feel it too. 

"You heard me? He's dead. He's dead- and he's never coming home." 

When he tries tipping over the bottle of wine and nothing comes out of it, he throws it across the room, and it shatters. Into nine pieces exactly. Seth sees it for the second time in his life.

"I'm sorry," Heru whispers, voice low and solemn. What he's apologising for, Seth doesn't even know. "I didn't know." 

That fucking nobility. His composure. 

Seth pushes Heru's calf aside as he reaches for the dustbin. Despite how badly his stomach churns, there's nothing left to throw up. He heaves drily.

"Seth," Heru calls, reaching for him. He swats Heru's hand away. "Seth." 

"What?" He answers, the anger in him only escalating. He's furious. It's getting worse. " What?" 

"This isn't healthy." Heru pushes the other trays and cups of alcohol aside. "Come, let's go to sleep."

"No," Seth hisses, shoving him away. "Just fuck off." 

Heru shakes his head and reaches under Seth. He lifts Seth into the air, refusing to yield as Seth starts to struggle. 

At first, Seth forgets to breathe. The scene is startlingly familiar, even if the positions then were different. Seth knows what half of that familiarity is now.

Osiris .

"No. This isn't good for you," Heru says, but the sirens and shriekings go off in his head again, and he shakes.  

"Let go of me," he mutters, timorous. 

When Heru doesn't, something in his head cracks. 

" Let go of me!" He repeats, thrusting a palm into Heru's chest. If this was Heru's plan to sober him up, then yes, he supposes, his head is now clear.

"I promise you will feel better when you wake up," Heru timidly says, though he continues walking nonetheless. Seth knows this scene all to well- Heru's words were a threat. 

"You- self righteous fucker!" Seth cries. He shoves Heru's chest again, so hard that the wind is knocked out of his lungs. "I fucking hate it when you touch me! Put-put me down !"

"Please." Another step forward. Heru isn't even looking at him. "You can't live like this; this isn't good for you."

Seth doesn't care. The dam breaks, and with a bite to his tongue that draws blood, hot tears start to roll down his cheeks, leaving burn marks where they touch. 

And he doesn't mean to admit it, but he does.

[I just can't take it anymore.]

"You're fucking scaring me!" He cries. He feels like nothing; no one has ever cared about what his wants. If there's one thing that makes him more maddened than sadness does, it is fear. "I hate being held like this- I fucking hate having no control. Just fucking let me go!"

Heru does put him down then. It's too late; Seth is burning. 

He scampers backwards until his back hits the wall. He's splitting open, right from the inside out. 

"Don't come near me- I know the kind of man you are." His breathing quickens. "You're going to violate me and leave me with nothing. You're going to make me nothing. Again. You-"

Again. Osiris.

"Seth," Heru breathes out. "Seth- what-?"

"You're Osiris' boy, aren't you?" He whispers, but it's louder than anything else in the room, especially in this pin-drop silence.

Heru stills.

"I knew it," Seth rasps out as his throat turns suspiciously dry. "You- you were fucking born to follow your father's footsteps, weren't you?" 

He bares his teeth, and the light from the sun setting bounces off of them. 

"Prove me wrong, fucker. Prove me wrong- I want you to wipe that fucking makeup off your face."

When Heru stays unmoving, Seth knows he's been proven right. It hurts so badly. He's never been so embarrassed or so betrayed in his life.

The thought makes him grin wildly, from ear to ear. The world must have thought that this was fucking funny- must have thought that all those sick jokes played on him weren't enough, because now there's this. 

"And there it fucking is!" The crinkles at the corners of his eyes are lined with moisture. "I should have fucking known!"

He can feel his blood boiling, and his fury rising still- this is not something that can be calmed, now. "Your mother sent you to do this didn't she? Was this some sort of...long winded plan? All that bullshit you pulled- those dates, sticking around...I knew it. No one stays for that long. No one fucking does unless they want something from me."

"No!" Horus objects, looking as if his entire world is crumbling. Like all the time he spent lying and faking it has been wasted. It has. 

"Oh, is that not it?" Seth pauses, but only to hurl another glass bottle across the room. "Then I suppose since you're Osiris' boy you're here to finish what he's done, right?" 

Seth grabs at the leg of a chair and flings it forward. He's so disgusted. At himself, at Horus, at the entire world. He feels filthy and lonely and-

"Did the fact that I consented make it more unsatisfying for you? Is that why you stayed around to fuck me?" 

Still no answer. 

He must've hit the nail right on the head.

"Sorry- did you want to violate me? Watch me scream and cry?" Seth shoots up, and grabs Horus by the chin. He forces Horus to stare him right in his crimson eyes. "You vile, vile piece of shit."

It continues for a lot longer; he yells and throws punches and objects, and Horus takes all of it. He never fights back, but he never seems hurt either. Father and son, the resemblance is uncanny. 

"I gave myself to you," he eventually whispers, dropping to the floor. Exhausted. "I- I betrayed my son for you. I let myself be happy, or enjoy whatever this was. But I knew- I should have known."

His throat is so terribly dry. The desert. "I hate you." 

Seth wishes that Horus would defend himself more. Tell him he was wrong, prove himself. He does none of that.

"Just go," Seth eventually orders, wrapping his arms around himself. His tears soak into the fabric of his torn clothes.

Horus leaves.

7.

It's back to his old life. Whatever that was.

Seth wakes up and lies in bed until the sun rises, and goes to work with barely brushed hair and wine stained lips.

He leaves work with bad breath and an empty stomach, and bleeding lips from how hard he's been biting them all day. He leaves work alone, and lonely, and betrayed.

Then he comes home - and he drinks some more - and in a blur, says goodnight to the photos and the wall and sleeps. And then he repeats it. 

He doesn't expect Horus to return. He doesn't want him to. Everything fucking hurts. 

[Liar. You're still waiting for him.]

Seth lets the darkness engulf him; he drinks until he's unconscious often. It isn't as if anyone will come looking for him ever again. 

Again. The sun and the moon, in an endless cycle. Time continues to bleed, and so do his fresh wounds. There are no stitches to tie them up. 

Life continues playing with him. On the one day that Seth does not drink until he is dead to the world, Horus comes knocking on his door in the cold of the night, dark circles under his eyes. Drenched. 

"I cut ties with my mother," is the first thing he announces, trembling. There's no makeup on his face; the mark under his eye is out for Seth to see. "I don't speak to her anymore." 

Seth looks away. "Why should I even trust you?" He weakly asks. He hasn't eaten that day.

[How can I?]

Horus' hand grips the edge of the door. 

"You shouldn't," he admits, biting the inside of his cheek. He's more shaken than Seth has ever seen him. "You shouldn't- I betrayed you. I should have come clean about who I was and I...I don't even know why I lied." 

Seth squeezes his eyes shut. It really does hurt to look at him, physically so. 

You want to see him. He's here.

Look.

"But I promise you. I never had any motivations besides to love you. I wanted- I want to be here for you." Horus continues as he shuffles where he stands. "I really like you, Seth. Please give me another chance."

[I like you too. It's why this hurts so much.]

"I don't trust you," Seth tells him, eyes still clenched shut, just so he doesn't have to see Horus visibly shrinking. 

"I understand," Horus truthfully says. "I did not do much to make you do so." 

That's a lie. But no one says anything else.

[Your only sin is that you're your father's son.]

Something in him cracks again, for the umpteenth time.

Eventually, Seth breaks the silence.

"This is wrong," he weakly breathes out, pressing his face into his palms. "This is so wrong. How- why are you still here?"

Horus swallows deeply.

"If you want me to leave, I will," he says, and Seth knows he's lying all while telling the truth. "But the moment you ask me to return, I will."

Seth's eyes start to burn. "But why. Why, is what I'm asking."

"I think you are too used to people giving up on you. And on what you want. I'll never do that again," Horus breathes out, shaking as he reaches for Seth. Reaches and reaches; it feels like the distance between them can never be closed. "I meant it when I said I loved you. I love you. I don't have any motivations for it. When I hid my identity it's because it felt right to. No one but the voice told me to...and..."

He exhales deeply. Seth waits, because he knows he'll take Horus back in the end anyways. 

"By the time I realised you liked Heru and not Horus it was too late."

"Who says I like you?" Seth bitingly interjects. 

Horus shuffles where he stands. "No one, I suppose," he admits, quietly. "...Seth- are you angry with me?"

"Of course I am," he replies, but both those statements were vague. Was Seth angry with him? Yes- he was furious, disgusted, appalled. Even the voice in his head absolutely detests him, and each time he thinks of loving Horus he throws up.

Liar. You've always wanted him. 

But- he does. He does love him. At least to an extent that the other parts of him will allow. When Horus is gone the voice keens and wails for hours, and sometimes, Seth only manages to keep it at bay with wine and sleep. There's longing, longing and even after it all- familiarity. Seth has always known Horus, somehow. 

"Because I am with you," Horus admits, fists clenching. "It feels like I should be fighting you. Like we were meant to be enemies for as long as we were alive." 

Seth quirks an eyebrow, though his eyes are a little watery. "Really?" His mouth is dry. "I feel the same way."

"I don't want to, though," Horus continues. He stares hard at the ground. 

"Then what do you want?" Seth rasps, aching all the while. He hopes Horus is hurting too.

Horus looks up at him with a genuinity reserved for newborns. It makes them both tremble; Seth fights the urge to push him away but also the urge to kiss him full on the lips. 

"I just want you," Horus shakily breathes out. 

He reaches out for Seth hesitantly- his knuckles are white and his heart beats wildly.  "But I will leave, Seth, if you want me to. I would do anything for you."

Seth is the same.

He reaches back.

The scene that follows is familiar; they tussle all the way into Seth's rooms, hands fisted in each other's clothes, palms seeking skin. Seth lets Horus undress him and kiss him as much as he likes. The fondness in each press of Horus' lips sends his head spinning, but he welcomes it.

Horus prepares him until he is open and welcoming, until his moans are soft sighs and his thighs are quivering with a gentle excitement. Then Horus kisses him again before he interlocks their fingers, and gently slides in.

"Let me love you," Horus mutters through gritted teeth as he stills for a moment, letting Seth get accustomed to his girth. It isn't their first time together, but still, gentleness is not a limited resource. Horus will always offer it.

He rocks into Seth. "I just want to stay with you." 

Seth wants him to stay too. He says nothing as Horus bites his bottom lip, but he does nod, and he does lean into it all. When Horus lays his claim in the form of suckled bruises along Seth's neck, Seth finds his release. 

Horus follows shortly after- he presses his head to Seth's and kisses the bridge of his lover's nose the entire time.

They fall asleep that night, tangled between each other's limbs. Horus kisses him again on the temple sweetly before wishing him goodnight. Seth says nothing.

But still, he gently sweeps a hand through Horus' hair, and that is enough for them both.

When Seth wakes up, Horus is still there. He kisses Horus on the mark below his eye, and presses himself closer to Horus' chest.

8.

Seth does eventually take Horus to go visit Anubis. It's a quiet affair; the only thing Seth brings is a bouquet of flowers and some of the toys that Anubis would've wanted with him. 

He takes them back, of course, because he cannot bear to be apart from them. And he cries, of course, silent, sorrowful tears, glassy and cold as they roll down his cheek. 

They don't do much besides that. Seth wipes down his son's gravestone and sweeps off any dirt from it, and kisses the photo that he brings with him. 

Still, Horus holds his hand through it all. 

And he pays his respects too; he places his own bunch of carefully picked flowers and wishes Anubis well, caring in a way that an older brother or father would be. Then he kisses away the tear tracks and lets Seth rest his forehead on his chest for as long as he likes.

"I'll never forgive myself," he admits, grinding his teeth together. "Or anyone else. I'm furious." 

[Good.]

"I understand," Horus says, wrapping his arms around him. "I am here for you, though. But I think- I think Anubis would have forgiven you."

Seth wants to kill him for that; Horus has never known his son.

All the same, it's nice to hear. 

"Do you want to talk about him?" Horus asks when they're on the car ride home. Seth watches as the light greens of the grassy hills slowly melds into a blur of grey; it's back to the concrete jungle he's so used to. 

He hasn't, in a very long time. Seth doesn't even know where to start.

But he bites his tongue until it bleeds and blinks away the tears.

"I suppose so," he quietly agrees, before he reaches for the memories of his beloved passed son. 

When he finishes, he's a lot less angry, even though he's sobbing so hard that his entire body is falling apart.

9. 

It isn't long after that Horus starts living with him; he's there half the time, anyways. The other half is spent either at his work or with Seth, just outside the house. 

He's a little fed up getting the door every time, is what Seth tells himself, as he gives Horus a spare set of keys. 

"Just move your things here already." It isn't a request. "You don't even sleep at your own house anymore."

"Yes," Horus agrees, shifting the keys in his palm. "There's nothing waiting for me there."

"Then why not just live here?" 

Horus swallows thickly. He must have been waiting. Admitting isn't easy; Seth knows it best. "I will, don't worry."

And living with him is... warm , in a way- not just in bodily heat. Horus warms him through the night but he also thaws the bleeding cold of his frozen over heart; Seth is still so angry, still so confused and the voice in his head still screams occasionally, but it is more quiet now. 

One day, he thinks (and hopes) it will dissipate completely. It's good to know that he isn't alone. 

"What's it saying today?" Seth asks one time, blinking languidly at Horus. He does not need to explain; Horus knows what he means. He only takes Seth's hand up to his face and kisses his knuckles. 

"It is happy," Horus eventually announces, rolling over to cup Seth's body with his own. "I don't even listen to it anymore, really. All I like hearing is your voice, my love." 

Seth turns to face away as he smiles, and the burning rage simmers to a dim blue. For the first time in a long time, it almost isn't there. "That makes one of us." 

One day, Horus is away for a business trip. He's long since been adopted into Seth's own company at this point, and he's valuable. Seth knows to relax when it is Horus that is at his heel. 

Seth cuts his hair that day - all the way down to his jawline. There's at least two feet of hair pooling below him, and when he looks up at the mirror, he could not be happier. 

He doesn't know if he'll grow it back; he was beautiful then, too, he realises. But for now, his head feels a lot lighter.

When Horus comes home a short while after,  and there's a man on the couch. Crimson hair, tailing just under his chin, gorgeous eyes and the prettiest face he's ever seen. His love- he's so proud of him. Seth thinks that he may be proud of himself too.  

"You cut your hair," Horus breathes out, in a way that is almost pained. It isn't a bad thing; Seth is just beautiful in a way that it is arduous. He cannot help but stop and look. 

"I did," Seth says, smiling softly. Those expressions are still rare but at least they're not nonexistent anymore. He reaches for the back of his head and fluffs up his hair.  "Do you like it?"

Horus nods.

"You're beautiful." 

And Seth - for all his little loves and laughs - softens. 

[You make me feel that way. Beautiful.]

A ring ends up on Seth's finger.

It's not something he accepts at first; he had left Horus then too, and pretended nothing had happened when Horus came back. 

"Please keep this," Horus whispers, sliding the ring onto Seth's palm. His voice is trembling. "If only as a reminder of me." 

Seth stares down at the piece of jewelry; it's beautiful, something undeniably ancient about it.

"Where are you going?" He asks, knowing full well that Horus has no where to leave to, though he knows why he is.

He's not willing to admit he's wrong. He never will.

"I thought-" Horus starts.

"Don't be stupid."

[Sorry. That's the last time, I swear.]

But still, it's there now, and Seth wants to keep it there forever. He drums his fingers on the armrest as he stares at the sun setting.

"Horus," he says, and his fiancé - ever the faithful man - heeds his call. 

"Yes?" Horus answers, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. Seth lifts up his hand and not a second passes before Horus grasps it in his own.

"You grew up with all those legends too, right? The fated Horus." 

"Yes." Horus sighs. "My mother expected great things from me." 

Seth smirks. It's a little bitter, but also a little satisfied. "Well I think this is my life I'm living now," he announces, leaning back. That voice of his has been quiet. "We've bested fate, it seems."

"I'm not too sure about that, if I'm being honest," Horus confesses, moving to sit on the floor. He rests his head on Seth's lap. 

Seth doesn't hesitate to comb his fingers through Horus' hair. "What do you mean?"

"That Horus in my head- he was always yearning for you." Seth stills. "I love you on my own accord, of course. He means nothing to me. But he does beg for you often."

Seth trusts him. And he thinks back on that warmth that followed Horus - that painful familiarity (and not just in Horus' bloodline,) that ease to fall in love, and in one fell swoop, he realises that maybe, just maybe, what the stone carvings remember may not have been so accurate after all. 

[If this is your love, I am glad to have it.]

10.

Being a newlywed for the second time in his life is a strange feeling, especially when he compares the memories and the feelings from then and now.

For one, he's so much happier with Horus. And it's strange, difficult, even, to admit - because a part of him is holding onto that dissipating anger, and because a part of him has already become one with it.

He's not completely sure, but with Horus, he thinks he may be okay with that. Horus is, anyways.

"I love you," Horus will say, tipping his chin up and kissing him full on the lips. And he means it each time. 

Seth knows, now. 

Sometimes he's even excited to wake up; nowadays, he'll stay in bed to linger in Horus' arms a little longer, rather than because he dreads to feel alive. Now it's because Horus will grasp him tighter and whisper stay, before sluggishly getting up on his own. 

They have breakfast together everyday, too. Most of the time it's a quiet affair as Seth listens to the news and Horus keeps to himself, just watching him.

But on one occasion, Seth stares at Horus as he politely chews his egg benedict, and laughs.

"I was afraid of you, at first," Seth says, resting his face in his palm. His hair brushes against it a little, and it's ticklish. His golden ring also gleams in the morning light. Horus' eyes widen- Seth isn't sure if it's because Horus is surprised to hear it, or if he's surprised to learn it. 

Seth waits until his husband swallows his food. That man would never speak with a full mouth, and so Seth has learned. 

"Why?" Horus asks, wiping the crumbs off his mouth with a napkin.

He shrugs. "You were too accepting," he tries, and that's all that matters. "It was foreign."

Horus blinks. "Oh," he mutters. "I understand."

A pause. 

"Not because I reminded you of...my father?" Horus dares to ask. 

Seth takes a moment to think. "I don't think so, no. Your gentleness nauseated me, but you've always been kind in a way that he wasn't. In your own way." 

He nudges his glass of water over to Horus when he notices that his husband's' is empty. "But…" He starts, looking out the window, and no longer at Horus' face. "You did remind me of my dreams. Those summer winds and those falcons, they were all you."

Seth doesn't need to be told that Horus saw red sands and bloodshed; he already knows. 

He's wrong. 

Thankfully.

"I told you a long time ago, but I dreamt of you too." Seth remembers. It was their first date. "I always saw someone unnervingly beautiful in them. It was always you." 

"They weren't violent?" Seth asks, befuddled. He's so genuinely surprised.

"Some of them were." Horus admits. "But still, it was you, and that was okay with me."

Seth scoffs. 

Then he stands up and pulls Horus forward by the collar, and they kiss until their lips are swollen. 

Still, the grief has not escaped him completely.

[And that's okay.]

"Do you think he would have been angry at me?" Seth asks, because that question may never really leave him. He fists both his hands into his lap. "Do you think he would have hated me for falling in love again, when he did not have the full chance for me to love him?"

He swallows thickly. 

"When I gave up on him? And never reminded him of my love, for the last year of his life?" 

Horus only stares, non-judging. Soft and loving. Seth can almost see the cogs turning in his head. He inhales deeply.

"Hello, my son," Seth greets, pulling Anubis into his arms and kissing his cheeks. "I'm home."

Anubis smiles - wide and toothy. "Welcome home!" 

Seth can't help it. He grins too.

"I cannot speak for him. I never knew him," he admits, having learnt what not to say. The ache burns again, although this time, Seth knows it will settle down soon enough. "But if he's anything like you described him to be, I think he would have wanted you to be happy."

Seth blinks away the tears as he stares out at the sun. 

But it makes Anubis blink - confused and baffled.

Then he gathers himself, and his smile grows larger as he reaches up to place his hands on either side of his father's face.

"Father is smiling today!" He kicks his little legs around. "You look so pretty when you smile! I love it!"

The sun sets.

Horus places his hand over Seth's own, rings clacking against each other. Seth leans into his touch. 

"I suppose you're right." 

[I love you.]