Horus ☀ Diego Warton (falconhead) wrote in mythologs, @ 2012-03-04 14:37:00 |
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Sun filtered through the blinds and speckled across Hathor's face, successfully rousing her from sleep. The invading rays were blinked away at first, but when this failed, the goddess snuggled into the closest thing to help her rid of that big bad sun. This happened to be a back, into which Hathor nuzzled her face comfortably.
And whose back could it be? Patroclus immediately came to mind. The husband she'd known for years, even when it was Diego she was meant to remember. Diego, the true father of her Luca. But in the weak clutches of consciousness, Patroclus' name was the first to process.
Horus's return to New York was not as smooth as Hathor's. He woke up abruptly with a sharp intake of breath. Breath - he could breathe, but why did it feel as if the blood was still clogging his throat? Hardly conscious of the warmth at his back, he pulled off the covers, swinging his feet off the edge of the bed.
Seated, he buried his head in his hands. Dead. He had died, but here he was. Who was he? His name was Horus; he was an Ilian; he took part of a revolt. But that didn't seem right. Not amidst the noises of a New York City morning. So now he was Diego, professor of ornithology. (But Horus, still.) What had happened to him?
Immediately a hand shot out, sleepy fingers brushing at the lower portion of Horus' spine. The warmth was missed, and like a discontent child, Hathor did a tired roll once, twice until she was close enough to slink a bare arm around his middle.
"Mrrr" was about the closest approximation to what was said upon squeezing.
Ignorance was such bliss. For the moment.
Reflexively, Horus's hand covered Hathor's. He had to have been dreaming. Ilium sounded just like Egypt, caught between what was 'upper' and what was 'lower'. No doubt his mind had sought out a way to relive his former glory.
But why would he not have succeeded in his own fantasy world? And why would Estelle feature as someone else's wife, much less Hathor? There was no way Horus would condone someone else marrying Estelle, and there was no way Estelle would be Hathor - though they were much alike in temperament and the god could not deny he missed his wife dearly.
But, no, he had Estelle now. It would be unfair to her to hold her against someone who was lifetimes away. "I had a funny dream," he said in a languid mix of Spanish and English. There was a shade of discomfort to his voice - though he'd begun to rationalize, Horus was disturbed and shocked to his core.
His words were enough to shake Hathor from her half-slumber, but very slowly. Rubbing her cheek into the soft material of their bed sheets, she hummed contentedly. "What was it?" she murmured back in her native tongue, a habit that hadn't shown its face in Zurvan.
Gradually, things were becoming more clear. The warmth at her side, the distant mewl of a cat, the sun heating up her back. Lashes fluttered open. Home. This was home.
"I lived in someplace called Ilium." The word sounded funny in Spanish slur. His thumb rubbed steady circles on the back of her hand. The gesture was comforting as Horus struggled to put together the bits and pieces of memory. And as he tried to ignore how pained and unsettled he felt. "You were there, married to someone else. Still had Luca and Ciro, though." The thought of his little boy made Horus smile faintly. "I helped lead a revolt against the queen, who was apparently my cousin."
Horus slid his feet back into bed and held his lover. It was just a dream; he was alive. How difficult it was for the god of the living to imagine being dead, though he had died several times before. "The revolt failed, and your husband killed me."
The longer Horus spoke, the faster Hathor stirred. As her lover's voice became more apparent to her, it slowly began to dawn on her that this wasn't Patroclus. This was Diego, and no one else. Years spent with Patroclus couldn't erase her memories of how Diego's skin felt against her fingertips. No mistaking his warmth, the way he smelled, the sound of his voice.
She was moving then, peppering kisses against his jaw. "I don't think it was a dream, baby." To English this time.
Horus ran a hand through Hathor's hair, needing her affection to calm him. Needing her. "Silly, what are you talking about?"
But her statement threw him off his carefully fabricated justifications. He was a former god; it wouldn't be too suspect for him to have been sent to Zurvan, whatever Zurvan was. The memories were so vivid and so strong. Enough for all his thirty-two years. Could he have dreamed that up in only hours?
Maybe that hadn't been the right thing to say, no matter how serious she'd been. In retrospect, perhaps she'd been tired herself, and this wasn't what they needed, this tension. Hathor dropped a kiss to his neck, trying to clear it away.
"Nothing, nothing. I'm a crazy lady." Another kiss, to the curve of his jaw. "Cuddle with me all morning, okay? I never want to leave this bed." Not now that you're actually in it.
"I'm not against cuddling." Horus held her closer, tucking her head under his chin. Still, the seed had already begun to take root. Her passing statement had ignited all sorts of questions, and he wasn't about to let them go unanswered.
For a man like Horus, the conversation was about to get absolutely ridiculous. "Estelle, does the name 'Hathor' mean anything to you?"
Her fingers crept up his side until her entire arm was draped over him, those fingertips coming to rest upon his spine. Yes, Hathor meant a great deal to her. But as Estelle, never had she brought up the topic of reincarnation. Her beloved family were known by their names here, offered to Horus as part of a lie that she'd met them elsewhere. At a coffee shop, at work. Something other than 'yes, she's my sister'. 'Yes, I'm an Egyptian goddess'.
She inhaled softly against his chest, squeezing. "Why?"
Horus was one part trepidation and another part hope. If she was Hathor, then she was his wife. That they'd found each other after all those years of being apart - the very thought thrilled him, gave him a male satisfaction that he wasn't sure how to set into words. But if she was Hathor, she had been with someone else. And her husband had killed him. (Her husband had also been father to Luca - no, no, Luca was Horus's and he would brook no resistance on that. Not in any lifetime.)
"In my dream, your name was Hathor."
The goddess would've been still in his arms if not for the fingers rubbing circles into his upper back. She was equal parts fearful and hopeful. Fearful because the wrong words could drive him away, and what would Luca be without his father? Hopeful because some secrets weren't meant to be kept. Not for years.
Her breath was warm against his chest as she snuggled in closer.
"If I said I knew that name better than you realize, what would you say?" Would you leave me?
"I would say I know the name Horus."
Horus wondered what would happen if it she was - if things really were -
But he could not hold the circumstances against Estelle. He - he would need time, yes, time away so that his anger at the situation, at the Greek, did not harm Estelle or Luca. Horus remembered his mother, remembered laying his hands on his mother, and something within him retreated in shame. Though he did not want to make the same mistakes, he had no guarantees that he could control himself.
Hathor, however, had no intention of controlling herself. After all, she wasn't a being known for her control. If anything, more for her lack of control, her spontaneity. She was wiggling out of his hold like a discontent kitten, eyes meeting and searching his. No. Could he?
"Horus? Hathor's Horus?"
Horus slackened his embrace, letting Estelle move about as she pleased. His gaze was intent, and his voice steady as he said,
"Horus who took Egypt for his Kingdom and Hathor for his wife."
The reaction was immediate: lips descended upon his immediately. There was no waiting, no beating around the bush when this was her Horus. Slowly, memories of meeting him in Zurvan began to filter back, hazy as if recollections from a good dream. A dream in which she was married to another.
But this was Horus. Patroclus was forgotten for the moment.
And for now, Horus didn't care to bring Zurvan up. Hathor was here, and after all those years of being without her, he fell into the kiss, hoping it would be enough to ruin her for any other man, even just a man in her memories. There was so much they had to say, but somehow this gesture said everything.
Patroclus, Ilium, Zurvan - it all could wait. Here, in is arms, Horus held everything.