A short, Father's Day-themed story with Horus and Setesh talking about Set.
___
"You remind me so much of your father."
Setesh averted his eyes away from those of his mentor, and he found himself staring at his own fidgeting hands. He guessed he should have expected Horus to say something like that -- it seemed like everyone had something to say about his father recently. Of course, Set wasn't here to deflect their words anymore, and Setesh knew he himself was a much easier target...
"Yeah, I... I get that a lot," Setesh murmured. He didn't have the courage to look back up at Horus -- he was too anxious to meet the old god's gaze. Too unworthy.
Horus was the hero of the Duat, immortalized in grand tales that Setesh had heard since he was a small kit; he recalled pretending to be the legendary falcon god in childhood games, smacking bushes like they were demons of the underworld. He'd begged his father to tell him the stories of Horus and Set -- of Horus' victories over Set --, never knowing that they were first-hand accounts from the mouth of the latter. Even in Setesh's adulthood, Horus' name -- and every possible variation of it -- had always been on the lips of every worshiper, every well-intentioned visitor, every advisor. His likeness was everywhere, too, of course, even in the Duat itself -- Horus was like an omnipresent force watching over both the living and the dead.
Setesh, on the other hand, was an outcast -- an abomination that wasn't even supposed to be here. He wasn't a god. He was a half-breed, some wayward bastard son with blood on his hands.
How was he supposed to look his childhood hero in the eyes when he was actively being compared to the falcon's greatest enemy?
"Sorry. I know that must be a sore subject," Horus resumed, and Setesh flinched a little as he felt the deity's hand on his back. "I didn't mean anything bad by it."
"No, it's fine. I'm used to it," Setesh deflected. "I mean, I can't blame people for pointing it out, yeah? We look almost identical..."
His ears flattened against his head, and he managed to muster just enough courage to sneak a glance at his mentor; he had expected to see some half-assed attempt at looking sympathetic, or even a begrudging frown. The young half-breed was genuinely taken aback, therefore, when he saw that Horus was smiling at him.
"Well, you two do look similar," Horus conceded, and he chuckled a little -- Setesh realized he must have looked quite stupid, and he averted his eyes again (this time out of embarrassment). "But you two act a lot alike, too," Horus added, giving the younger being a reassuring pat. "The way you talk with your hands, the way you hunch your shoulders -- like that!" he laughed, gesturing to Setesh's current posture.
Setesh wrung his hands and looked himself over, trying his best to recognize something more than his skin-deep resemblance to Set. As far as he could remember, the dark god always stood proud and tall -- he never looked as pitiful as Setesh did, that was for sure. If he had, anyway, then he'd never allowed Setesh to see him like that.
"You think so...?" Setesh dared to ask, giving a weak, forced smile to his mentor.
"I know so," Horus assured. The falcon tilted his head to one side, and -- while there was still a smile on his beak -- his brow furrowed with concern; Setesh guessed the old god could see right through the paper-thin smile.
It was Horus who broke eye contact this time, though his gaze turned upward toward the sky. He seemed to be contemplating something, as his brow remained furrowed even after his smile fell.
"...You know, Setesh, your father was a good man," he said eventually, and he gave another little chuckle. "I thought you of all people would know that, given that he practically raised you. You don't have to be ashamed of him."
Setesh couldn't believe his ears. He looked at his mentor incredulously, like the falcon had just suddenly grown a second head--
"That's-- Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds, coming from you?" Setesh spluttered out suddenly, though he cupped a hand over his own muzzle as soon as he'd said it. He didn't want to be reprimanded for speaking out of turn.
Horus, however, just smiled kindly -- he seemed to understand. The god of the skies dipped his head in acknowledgement of Setesh's words, and he closed his eyes.
"I sometimes forget that you were mortal, once," Horus admitted. Setesh found that statement a bit hard to believe, but he appreciated hearing it -- at least his mentor seemed to view the half-breed as an equal.
"You've only heard stories. You didn't live them, like we did," Horus continued, "and if Set really did hide the truth from you for so long, then I suppose you'd have no reason to think there was good in him... But trust me, there was plenty."
"...Aren't you two supposed to hate each other-?" Setesh questioned, though his voice was timid.
His mother had always screamed at him whenever he dared to question her words, and so he had essentially been trained to accept whatever he was told; moreover, it felt wrong -- dangerously wrong -- to question such a paragon like Horus... But this wasn't something he could just let lie.
This claim -- along with the years Set had spent raising a mortal child -- flew in the face of everything Setesh thought he knew about the dark god. He had always wanted answers, of course, but... Everything was so confusing. What he had been taught -- through his mother, through his tutors, through folk tales -- seemed incompatible with what Setesh himself had experienced, and now Horus' words were casting even more doubt on the myth.
"Far from it. All was reconciled -- eventually," Horus returned. Setesh angled his ears to the side in confusion -- his mentor sounded wistful, almost saddened.
"...So the stories, they're just... Stories?" the half-breed guessed, furrowing his brow. Without thinking, he found himself tilting his head in curiosity. If Horus was willing to talk about it, then... Setesh certainly had plenty more questions.
"Oho, no. No, we did fight -- many times," the elder god assured, withholding a laugh. As he dismissed this notion, Horus waved his feathered hand in the air in front of his beak like he were trying to dispel smoke. "I still have the scars to prove it, too..."
There was a pause, and Horus looked to Setesh again; the half-breed's confusion must have been showing on his face, as the falcon god winked with his good eye.
"...I hide them, of course, so I look presentable," Horus snickered. "Set did the same -- most of the time... He liked to show them off more than I did," he admitted, still seeming amused. The falcon pointed to his "bad" eye with a clawed finger, then closed it so he could (gently) touch the eyelid.
At a glance, Horus' left eye could have easily passed as "normal"(at least, as normal as the eye of a god could be); while unassuming from a distance, the pupil and iris of the eye were clouded over, betraying the fact that the eye had been irrevocably damaged at some point. In the few months he'd apprenticed under the falcon god, Setesh had taken notice that Horus seemed to favor his right eye over his left, and he'd had some suspicions that it was at least partially nonfunctional -- that it was the "Eye of Horus" said to have been torn out in a fight with Set.
As Horus touched the eye, he seemed to dispel some kind of illusion -- his feathers rippled like the surface of a pond, and scar tissue suddenly became visible around his eye socket. Setesh's stomach lurched -- he watched with growing unease as he saw clawmarks materialize on his mentor's face. When Horus opened that eye again, there was only a polished orb of lapis lazuli sitting within the empty eye socket -- it had been a false eye after all.
Setesh stared at the ghastly sight for a few seconds, too afraid to say anything. Horus certainly looked a lot less... Friendly with such a scar on his face. The half-breed considered his own facial scars -- he brought his hand up to touch his own muzzle, and he winced. If Horus looked intimidating with a scar like that, then perhaps it was no wonder the gods looked at Setesh the way they did...
Horus snapped his fingers, and the illusion returned -- he blinked his eyes a couple of times, and the eye of stone appeared organic once more.
"Maybe I'll teach you that trick, soon," he opted, offering Setesh another sunny smile. "It'd take a little practice, but you've been a fast learner so far."
"...Th-That's okay. I don't... I don't want to hide my scars," Setesh winced. He couldn't consistently hold eye contact with his mentor, and he instead looked at his hands again. "They... It makes me look less like Set."
"Ah. I suppose that's true," Horus conceded. Setesh could hear the concern creeping back into the falcon's voice, and he felt sick. Why was Horus worrying so much?
"So, what, you two just... 'Reconciled' after trying to kill each other?" Setesh resumed. He squeezed his own upper arms, like hugging himself would somehow ease the building stress in his body.
"Well... It was a bit more complicated than 'just' getting along, after all -- it... It took some time. But I'm still glad it happened. Glad I gave him a chance," Horus hummed.
Setesh wasn't very good at reading people, but... He could tell from the older god's voice that this at least meant something to Horus. Something more than just bad blood between gods, anyway -- he sounded... Wistful?
"And now... I miss him," the falcon chuckled. "As silly as it sounds."
Setesh stared at his mentor, unsure what he could even say. Horus merely looked right back at him with that same smile as before, and Setesh shrank back a little. It felt like the god of the skies was trying to read him -- trying to understand how Setesh felt about his words.
The half-breed gave a hard swallow -- his throat felt dry with anxiety. This was the deepest conversation he'd had with any of the gods in regards to his father, and Setesh wasn't quite sure how to handle it; almost all previous interactions had only been surface-level comparisons, or even off-hand derogatory remarks. Nephthys, Set's wife, had been so welcoming to Setesh (she was by far the friendliest face he'd encountered in the Duat so far), but she was also quiet -- she seemed afraid to discuss the topic, and so she avoided it all together. Setesh had treated it much the same.
He remained hunched over as he sat, hands still wringing together in his lap; his mentor, in comparison, sat up straight and with proper posture -- Horus looked confident, like he was unfazed by the weight of their current conversation.
Perhaps it wasn't as weighty for the sky god as it was for his apprentice.
"Do you ever miss him, Setesh?" Horus probed; he leaned forward into a more casual posture than before, resting his arms on his lap. "You don't have to answer, if it makes you uncomfortable," he reassured.
The falcon's words, though gentle, essentially pulled loose the last thread tying down Setesh's anxiety.
"Why are you asking me all this? Why did you of all people volunteer to mentor me?" the half-breed dared to ask, running a hand through his ragged mane. He started to say something more, but his tongue and mind fought back and forth and tangled together until he was just spluttering out half-formed words. He felt stupid.
"Why do you care?" Setesh asked at last, throwing his hands up -- he'd finally figured out what he wanted to say.
He wasn't angry -- at least, he didn't mean to come across that way. He was confused why Horus seemed to be fretting over him, why he wanted to talk about Set, and why he was being so... So friendly, when Setesh had expected to be ridiculed by his father's greatest enemy.
"Because I care about you," Horus pointed out, seeming taken aback by such a question.
"I don't understand why," Setesh mumbled hopelessly. "I just met you... less than half a year ago," he stuttered, suddenly aware of just how long he'd been trapped in the Duat. "I've-- ...I've barely spoken to you outside of training sessions. I don't belong here, among the gods. Why don't you hate me like everyone else does-? Shouldn't you...?"
The sky god slowly raised a hand, like he was trying to signal Setesh to stop talking. The half breed clamped his jaws shut and looked away again -- he felt like he was burning up inside his own fur.
"I care about you because I care about--... Cared about Set, when he was still here," Horus answered. He reached out and gently placed his hand on top of the younger god's head, like he were trying to pet a dog or cat. Setesh wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel comforted or humiliated by such a gesture.
"You're his boy. He loved you, whether you knew he was a god or not -- and he was so proud of you," the sky god assured. "He-- We... We were close. And he told me about you, Setesh -- when you were still alive, sometimes you were all he would talk about. His eyes lit up every time he talked about you, what you were learning, how you were growing. He fretted over your safety every time he had to leave you behind -- he..."
Horus trailed off, and his voice broke -- he gave a breathy, half-hearted chuckle.
"That stupid sha made me cover for him on the sun barge for weeks at a time. We worked in alternating nights for a little while, just so he could have time to visit you in the mortal realm. He and Nephthys were both so excited... So happy," the old god relayed. He gave Setesh a single pat on the head as if to ease him, then removed his hand away from the half-breed's mane.
"...When you-- ... Your mortal body died, it just about broke him," he finished. Setesh couldn't look at his mentor, he felt too wretched -- but he could hear the hurt in the falcon god's voice. Was he getting upset thinking about Set, or was it something else?
Just how many gods had been involved in Setesh's mortal life?
"...You were there, too, huh?" Setesh murmured.
"Once. When you were very little -- probably too little to remember, if I had to guess."
"And you knew... That he was hiding it from me?" the half-breed dared further, and he frowned.
"It wasn't something he wanted to do. But we gods aren't supposed to intervene directly in the lives of mortals -- he was already breaking so many rules by acting as your father. I know he wanted to tell you -- that was something I talked to him about, right around the time your mortal life ended," Horus explained, and he gave a grimacing sigh. "...He was waiting for a 'right time,' I suppose."
"Yeah? Well, that didn't really work out," Setesh grumbled bitterly. While his words were sour, the young sha felt almost nothing at all. He had been working up his hatred to a cliff edge -- when it came time to jump, though, he felt as if he had lost all motivation. He didn't feel justified in being hateful anymore. He just felt... Empty.
"I'm sorry for bringing it up," Horus apologized, and he straightened back into proper sitting posture. He cleared his throat a few more times, like he was fighting something in his throat; Setesh felt the falcon give him another reassuring(?) pat on the back.
Setesh didn't say anything at all for around a minute after that. He was thinking, remembering. He wanted to recall what had come before this vicious hell of undeath.
"...Horus?" the half-breed mumured eventually, giving his mentor a timid look. The sky god didn't respond verbally -- he merely sat up and returned Setesh's gaze to indicate he was listening.
"I think... I do miss him. Maybe not Set the god, but... I miss my father," Setesh admitted.
"...I miss the father I knew."
___
Happy Father’s Day to everyone who celebrates it! I know other countries may celebrate it at different times of the year, but today was Father’s Day here in America.
Father’s Day is important to me for... Lots of reasons. My Dad has always been my biggest role model and best supporter; he’s financed my college endeavors and he’s taken care of me for most of my life. Pamu/Setesh’s family story echoes mine in a lot of ways. My Dad walked so I could run and has always respected and supported me (even when I made decisions he didn’t quite agree with); my Mom, on the other hand... Well, she is almost certainly the main reason I have severe generalized anxiety disorder as an adult. I’ll leave it at that...
In any case, you can see why I have such a soft spot for fatherly characters. I feel like there’s not a lot of good father characters in mainstream media, and so I try to make up for that with some of my characters! Even Horus, Setesh’s mentor, has four sons of his own.
This piece was also a great excuse to explore mentor-apprentice relationships in TCotC’s Egyptian pantheon. I’ve talked about it before in previous pieces, but the gods grow and develop like people do (though at a much different rate) — they (usually) aren’t just born as adults, meaning they have to grow up and learn what it means to be a god and where their place is in the Duat. They must apprentice under older deities who act as their mentors; their mentors teach them basic things like combat, cooking, even just how to take care of themselves... And they also teach them how to be gods.
The “youngest gods” in TCotC are the sixth generation: Horus and Hathor’s four sons (Qebehsenuef, Hapy, Duamutef, and Imsety) and Anubis’ daughter (Kebechet). They’re roughly a few thousand years old, whereas some of the older gods are millions or even billions of years old.... And then, we’ll, there’s Setesh. The half-breed. He’s twenty-something at the time he gets shoehorned into an apprenticeship with Horus, Set’s old rival... Of course, as shown above, Setesh learns that sometimes things aren’t as simple as they appear — Horus and Set were actually pretty great friends (and lovers)! Learning to look past the surface and see what’s beneath is something Setesh will need to take to heart if he wants to stop being a “half-breed” and be a real god.
___
"You remind me so much of your father."
Setesh averted his eyes away from those of his mentor, and he found himself staring at his own fidgeting hands. He guessed he should have expected Horus to say something like that -- it seemed like everyone had something to say about his father recently. Of course, Set wasn't here to deflect their words anymore, and Setesh knew he himself was a much easier target...
"Yeah, I... I get that a lot," Setesh murmured. He didn't have the courage to look back up at Horus -- he was too anxious to meet the old god's gaze. Too unworthy.
Horus was the hero of the Duat, immortalized in grand tales that Setesh had heard since he was a small kit; he recalled pretending to be the legendary falcon god in childhood games, smacking bushes like they were demons of the underworld. He'd begged his father to tell him the stories of Horus and Set -- of Horus' victories over Set --, never knowing that they were first-hand accounts from the mouth of the latter. Even in Setesh's adulthood, Horus' name -- and every possible variation of it -- had always been on the lips of every worshiper, every well-intentioned visitor, every advisor. His likeness was everywhere, too, of course, even in the Duat itself -- Horus was like an omnipresent force watching over both the living and the dead.
Setesh, on the other hand, was an outcast -- an abomination that wasn't even supposed to be here. He wasn't a god. He was a half-breed, some wayward bastard son with blood on his hands.
How was he supposed to look his childhood hero in the eyes when he was actively being compared to the falcon's greatest enemy?
"Sorry. I know that must be a sore subject," Horus resumed, and Setesh flinched a little as he felt the deity's hand on his back. "I didn't mean anything bad by it."
"No, it's fine. I'm used to it," Setesh deflected. "I mean, I can't blame people for pointing it out, yeah? We look almost identical..."
His ears flattened against his head, and he managed to muster just enough courage to sneak a glance at his mentor; he had expected to see some half-assed attempt at looking sympathetic, or even a begrudging frown. The young half-breed was genuinely taken aback, therefore, when he saw that Horus was smiling at him.
"Well, you two do look similar," Horus conceded, and he chuckled a little -- Setesh realized he must have looked quite stupid, and he averted his eyes again (this time out of embarrassment). "But you two act a lot alike, too," Horus added, giving the younger being a reassuring pat. "The way you talk with your hands, the way you hunch your shoulders -- like that!" he laughed, gesturing to Setesh's current posture.
Setesh wrung his hands and looked himself over, trying his best to recognize something more than his skin-deep resemblance to Set. As far as he could remember, the dark god always stood proud and tall -- he never looked as pitiful as Setesh did, that was for sure. If he had, anyway, then he'd never allowed Setesh to see him like that.
"You think so...?" Setesh dared to ask, giving a weak, forced smile to his mentor.
"I know so," Horus assured. The falcon tilted his head to one side, and -- while there was still a smile on his beak -- his brow furrowed with concern; Setesh guessed the old god could see right through the paper-thin smile.
It was Horus who broke eye contact this time, though his gaze turned upward toward the sky. He seemed to be contemplating something, as his brow remained furrowed even after his smile fell.
"...You know, Setesh, your father was a good man," he said eventually, and he gave another little chuckle. "I thought you of all people would know that, given that he practically raised you. You don't have to be ashamed of him."
Setesh couldn't believe his ears. He looked at his mentor incredulously, like the falcon had just suddenly grown a second head--
"That's-- Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds, coming from you?" Setesh spluttered out suddenly, though he cupped a hand over his own muzzle as soon as he'd said it. He didn't want to be reprimanded for speaking out of turn.
Horus, however, just smiled kindly -- he seemed to understand. The god of the skies dipped his head in acknowledgement of Setesh's words, and he closed his eyes.
"I sometimes forget that you were mortal, once," Horus admitted. Setesh found that statement a bit hard to believe, but he appreciated hearing it -- at least his mentor seemed to view the half-breed as an equal.
"You've only heard stories. You didn't live them, like we did," Horus continued, "and if Set really did hide the truth from you for so long, then I suppose you'd have no reason to think there was good in him... But trust me, there was plenty."
"...Aren't you two supposed to hate each other-?" Setesh questioned, though his voice was timid.
His mother had always screamed at him whenever he dared to question her words, and so he had essentially been trained to accept whatever he was told; moreover, it felt wrong -- dangerously wrong -- to question such a paragon like Horus... But this wasn't something he could just let lie.
This claim -- along with the years Set had spent raising a mortal child -- flew in the face of everything Setesh thought he knew about the dark god. He had always wanted answers, of course, but... Everything was so confusing. What he had been taught -- through his mother, through his tutors, through folk tales -- seemed incompatible with what Setesh himself had experienced, and now Horus' words were casting even more doubt on the myth.
"Far from it. All was reconciled -- eventually," Horus returned. Setesh angled his ears to the side in confusion -- his mentor sounded wistful, almost saddened.
"...So the stories, they're just... Stories?" the half-breed guessed, furrowing his brow. Without thinking, he found himself tilting his head in curiosity. If Horus was willing to talk about it, then... Setesh certainly had plenty more questions.
"Oho, no. No, we did fight -- many times," the elder god assured, withholding a laugh. As he dismissed this notion, Horus waved his feathered hand in the air in front of his beak like he were trying to dispel smoke. "I still have the scars to prove it, too..."
There was a pause, and Horus looked to Setesh again; the half-breed's confusion must have been showing on his face, as the falcon god winked with his good eye.
"...I hide them, of course, so I look presentable," Horus snickered. "Set did the same -- most of the time... He liked to show them off more than I did," he admitted, still seeming amused. The falcon pointed to his "bad" eye with a clawed finger, then closed it so he could (gently) touch the eyelid.
At a glance, Horus' left eye could have easily passed as "normal"(at least, as normal as the eye of a god could be); while unassuming from a distance, the pupil and iris of the eye were clouded over, betraying the fact that the eye had been irrevocably damaged at some point. In the few months he'd apprenticed under the falcon god, Setesh had taken notice that Horus seemed to favor his right eye over his left, and he'd had some suspicions that it was at least partially nonfunctional -- that it was the "Eye of Horus" said to have been torn out in a fight with Set.
As Horus touched the eye, he seemed to dispel some kind of illusion -- his feathers rippled like the surface of a pond, and scar tissue suddenly became visible around his eye socket. Setesh's stomach lurched -- he watched with growing unease as he saw clawmarks materialize on his mentor's face. When Horus opened that eye again, there was only a polished orb of lapis lazuli sitting within the empty eye socket -- it had been a false eye after all.
Setesh stared at the ghastly sight for a few seconds, too afraid to say anything. Horus certainly looked a lot less... Friendly with such a scar on his face. The half-breed considered his own facial scars -- he brought his hand up to touch his own muzzle, and he winced. If Horus looked intimidating with a scar like that, then perhaps it was no wonder the gods looked at Setesh the way they did...
Horus snapped his fingers, and the illusion returned -- he blinked his eyes a couple of times, and the eye of stone appeared organic once more.
"Maybe I'll teach you that trick, soon," he opted, offering Setesh another sunny smile. "It'd take a little practice, but you've been a fast learner so far."
"...Th-That's okay. I don't... I don't want to hide my scars," Setesh winced. He couldn't consistently hold eye contact with his mentor, and he instead looked at his hands again. "They... It makes me look less like Set."
"Ah. I suppose that's true," Horus conceded. Setesh could hear the concern creeping back into the falcon's voice, and he felt sick. Why was Horus worrying so much?
"So, what, you two just... 'Reconciled' after trying to kill each other?" Setesh resumed. He squeezed his own upper arms, like hugging himself would somehow ease the building stress in his body.
"Well... It was a bit more complicated than 'just' getting along, after all -- it... It took some time. But I'm still glad it happened. Glad I gave him a chance," Horus hummed.
Setesh wasn't very good at reading people, but... He could tell from the older god's voice that this at least meant something to Horus. Something more than just bad blood between gods, anyway -- he sounded... Wistful?
"And now... I miss him," the falcon chuckled. "As silly as it sounds."
Setesh stared at his mentor, unsure what he could even say. Horus merely looked right back at him with that same smile as before, and Setesh shrank back a little. It felt like the god of the skies was trying to read him -- trying to understand how Setesh felt about his words.
The half-breed gave a hard swallow -- his throat felt dry with anxiety. This was the deepest conversation he'd had with any of the gods in regards to his father, and Setesh wasn't quite sure how to handle it; almost all previous interactions had only been surface-level comparisons, or even off-hand derogatory remarks. Nephthys, Set's wife, had been so welcoming to Setesh (she was by far the friendliest face he'd encountered in the Duat so far), but she was also quiet -- she seemed afraid to discuss the topic, and so she avoided it all together. Setesh had treated it much the same.
He remained hunched over as he sat, hands still wringing together in his lap; his mentor, in comparison, sat up straight and with proper posture -- Horus looked confident, like he was unfazed by the weight of their current conversation.
Perhaps it wasn't as weighty for the sky god as it was for his apprentice.
"Do you ever miss him, Setesh?" Horus probed; he leaned forward into a more casual posture than before, resting his arms on his lap. "You don't have to answer, if it makes you uncomfortable," he reassured.
The falcon's words, though gentle, essentially pulled loose the last thread tying down Setesh's anxiety.
"Why are you asking me all this? Why did you of all people volunteer to mentor me?" the half-breed dared to ask, running a hand through his ragged mane. He started to say something more, but his tongue and mind fought back and forth and tangled together until he was just spluttering out half-formed words. He felt stupid.
"Why do you care?" Setesh asked at last, throwing his hands up -- he'd finally figured out what he wanted to say.
He wasn't angry -- at least, he didn't mean to come across that way. He was confused why Horus seemed to be fretting over him, why he wanted to talk about Set, and why he was being so... So friendly, when Setesh had expected to be ridiculed by his father's greatest enemy.
"Because I care about you," Horus pointed out, seeming taken aback by such a question.
"I don't understand why," Setesh mumbled hopelessly. "I just met you... less than half a year ago," he stuttered, suddenly aware of just how long he'd been trapped in the Duat. "I've-- ...I've barely spoken to you outside of training sessions. I don't belong here, among the gods. Why don't you hate me like everyone else does-? Shouldn't you...?"
The sky god slowly raised a hand, like he was trying to signal Setesh to stop talking. The half breed clamped his jaws shut and looked away again -- he felt like he was burning up inside his own fur.
"I care about you because I care about--... Cared about Set, when he was still here," Horus answered. He reached out and gently placed his hand on top of the younger god's head, like he were trying to pet a dog or cat. Setesh wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel comforted or humiliated by such a gesture.
"You're his boy. He loved you, whether you knew he was a god or not -- and he was so proud of you," the sky god assured. "He-- We... We were close. And he told me about you, Setesh -- when you were still alive, sometimes you were all he would talk about. His eyes lit up every time he talked about you, what you were learning, how you were growing. He fretted over your safety every time he had to leave you behind -- he..."
Horus trailed off, and his voice broke -- he gave a breathy, half-hearted chuckle.
"That stupid sha made me cover for him on the sun barge for weeks at a time. We worked in alternating nights for a little while, just so he could have time to visit you in the mortal realm. He and Nephthys were both so excited... So happy," the old god relayed. He gave Setesh a single pat on the head as if to ease him, then removed his hand away from the half-breed's mane.
"...When you-- ... Your mortal body died, it just about broke him," he finished. Setesh couldn't look at his mentor, he felt too wretched -- but he could hear the hurt in the falcon god's voice. Was he getting upset thinking about Set, or was it something else?
Just how many gods had been involved in Setesh's mortal life?
"...You were there, too, huh?" Setesh murmured.
"Once. When you were very little -- probably too little to remember, if I had to guess."
"And you knew... That he was hiding it from me?" the half-breed dared further, and he frowned.
"It wasn't something he wanted to do. But we gods aren't supposed to intervene directly in the lives of mortals -- he was already breaking so many rules by acting as your father. I know he wanted to tell you -- that was something I talked to him about, right around the time your mortal life ended," Horus explained, and he gave a grimacing sigh. "...He was waiting for a 'right time,' I suppose."
"Yeah? Well, that didn't really work out," Setesh grumbled bitterly. While his words were sour, the young sha felt almost nothing at all. He had been working up his hatred to a cliff edge -- when it came time to jump, though, he felt as if he had lost all motivation. He didn't feel justified in being hateful anymore. He just felt... Empty.
"I'm sorry for bringing it up," Horus apologized, and he straightened back into proper sitting posture. He cleared his throat a few more times, like he was fighting something in his throat; Setesh felt the falcon give him another reassuring(?) pat on the back.
Setesh didn't say anything at all for around a minute after that. He was thinking, remembering. He wanted to recall what had come before this vicious hell of undeath.
"...Horus?" the half-breed mumured eventually, giving his mentor a timid look. The sky god didn't respond verbally -- he merely sat up and returned Setesh's gaze to indicate he was listening.
"I think... I do miss him. Maybe not Set the god, but... I miss my father," Setesh admitted.
"...I miss the father I knew."
___
Happy Father’s Day to everyone who celebrates it! I know other countries may celebrate it at different times of the year, but today was Father’s Day here in America.
Father’s Day is important to me for... Lots of reasons. My Dad has always been my biggest role model and best supporter; he’s financed my college endeavors and he’s taken care of me for most of my life. Pamu/Setesh’s family story echoes mine in a lot of ways. My Dad walked so I could run and has always respected and supported me (even when I made decisions he didn’t quite agree with); my Mom, on the other hand... Well, she is almost certainly the main reason I have severe generalized anxiety disorder as an adult. I’ll leave it at that...
In any case, you can see why I have such a soft spot for fatherly characters. I feel like there’s not a lot of good father characters in mainstream media, and so I try to make up for that with some of my characters! Even Horus, Setesh’s mentor, has four sons of his own.
This piece was also a great excuse to explore mentor-apprentice relationships in TCotC’s Egyptian pantheon. I’ve talked about it before in previous pieces, but the gods grow and develop like people do (though at a much different rate) — they (usually) aren’t just born as adults, meaning they have to grow up and learn what it means to be a god and where their place is in the Duat. They must apprentice under older deities who act as their mentors; their mentors teach them basic things like combat, cooking, even just how to take care of themselves... And they also teach them how to be gods.
The “youngest gods” in TCotC are the sixth generation: Horus and Hathor’s four sons (Qebehsenuef, Hapy, Duamutef, and Imsety) and Anubis’ daughter (Kebechet). They’re roughly a few thousand years old, whereas some of the older gods are millions or even billions of years old.... And then, we’ll, there’s Setesh. The half-breed. He’s twenty-something at the time he gets shoehorned into an apprenticeship with Horus, Set’s old rival... Of course, as shown above, Setesh learns that sometimes things aren’t as simple as they appear — Horus and Set were actually pretty great friends (and lovers)! Learning to look past the surface and see what’s beneath is something Setesh will need to take to heart if he wants to stop being a “half-breed” and be a real god.
Category Story / Fantasy
Species Falcon
Gender Multiple characters
Size 1117 x 1280px
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