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While Isis and Ra spoke Horus knelt next to Set. He was on his side, chained so that he could not stand or even sit. He tensed when Horus approached, but made no effort to move. If he had been a woman then Horus might have been moved to pity, but he was not a woman, and there was too much between them for Horus to pass up any advantage he could seize.
“I am sorry that it has come to this, brother,” he said, though he wasn’t. The exciting burn of success thrummed in his veins and his heart beat fast. The last time they had been this close he had been feigning sleep while Set moved between his thighs (1).
Set’s eyes glittered angrily, but he pressed his lips together tightly and said nothing. He was always angry. Horus had only seen him when he was not angry a handful of times, and even in those he was not peaceful. Never peaceful.
When they had stood before the council and Set was certain of his victory, he had seemed triumphant, viciously so. His hands on Horus’ stomach were heavy and possessive, his eyes glittering with excitement. Even then, Horus did not think that he had been truly happy, though he had been too caught up in thoughts of his own imminent success to pay close attention to Set.
He sighed and let his own hands wander. He had been angry too, and for far better reason. Gods did not forgive and his father’s undignified death still grated. He should cut Set in the same way that his father had been cut. The head from the shoulders, the tongue from the mouth, the arms, torso (2). His hands drifted lower.
Set shivered under his hands, but his eyes never left Horus’ face, challenging, threatening. Horus pulled back and sat on his heels, looking at Set thoughtfully. Again and again he had bested this man, this god, this brother among the gods, and still Set came back, tried again, refused to submit, or to acknowledge Horus’ superiority.
That made his current helplessness all the sweeter. Horus smiled, and he knew that it was not a comforting smile. “I am sorry, but you have brought this—“ here he ran his hand down Set’s hip in a threatening caress “—on yourself.”
This brought Set out of his self-induced silence at last. His voice was low and smoky and familiar. Horus thought that if he forgot everything else, forgot that he was a god, that the Nile flowed north, that the sun rose and set every day, he would still remember Set’s voice.
“Given your current position, brother , it seems that you’re the one that’s brought it on me.”
Horus raised his eyebrows and looked down at himself, at the line of his body and the line of Set’s, and he smiled.
Set looked startled. Horus hummed in satisfaction and leaned closer. It was difficult to startle Set. Even when he had been deceived as he had been when Horus built his wooden ship (3), he rarely let his surprise show. He had expected Horus to blush and draw back, as he had when they had shared a room so long ago. But Horus had changed, grown into a man’s body and voice and mind. God’s changed rarely, but they did change. Perhaps Set had forgotten that. Perhaps it had been so long since he had changed that he had forgotten. Set did not change, had not changed. Horus’ first memory of him was as he was now: fiery, large and disdainful of any attempt to control him.
Horus brushed his lips over Set’s ear, enjoying the delicate shudder that Set couldn’t suppress, and whispered, “There is no escape this time, brother. This is the end.”
Set rolled so that he was laying on his back, which moved their lower bodies farther apart, but put them lip to lip. He spoke against Horus’ mouth, and the feeling of his warm lips and moist breath almost distracted Horus from what he was saying. “We’re god’s, little brother, there is no end .” And then he bit down on Horus bottom lip. Hard.
Horus shot up, startled and angry in a more vivid, current way than he had been, even over his father’s death. He drew in a long breath and felt at his wounded lip. His anger settled in time with the loud thump of his heart, and for a few moments he could hear nothing else. Then the sound of laughter broke through and he looked down at Set, whose ribs were moving in time with the sounds from his mouth. Strange, foreign sounds, and how had it been since Set had laughed?
Horus frowned and leaned closer, putting his hand on Set’s chest, and the laughter increased.
There was an impatient sound behind him, and then his mother was saying crossly, “Stop molesting him, Horus. We’ve decided what to do (4).”
Horus frowned and pulled back. Predictably, Set only laughed harder.
He was still snickering when Ra took him away. Horus was surprised that he had not protested the sentence, but then, Set probably didn’t believe that it would last. He had always evaded his punishments, always escaped, always returned.
He would not be returning this time, but perhaps it was better that he did not know that.
At the door, Set turned to look back, and Ra allowed him the movement. He looked at Horus and smiled, a real smile, a dangerous smile. “You will be hearing from me, brother.” And then he was gone.
Horus felt at his tender lip gingerly and wondered what the sky would sound like when Set laughed.