In one thing Osiris would agree that Set was right; his talent did not lie in decorating his surroundings. That he had always left to his wife, and and Isis had obliged him by making their throne room a thing of beauty and comfort, where mortals and gods of all social status could come and speak with the pharaoh at ease. They had done just that, and it once had not been uncommon to see Osiris breaking bread with his people, listening to their woes and laughing at their merriment. The throne room often rang with the sounds of joy.
In this room there were no such sounds, save that of Set's own. In truth, there were no other sounds at all, not even the breath of the king who had awaited the usurper's arrival. The elder god sat nearly without movement, as though he'd been transformed upon his death into one of the statues his people had chiseled of him. Also foreign to the normally lively god was a decided coldness, his upper lip hinting at something more hostile, perhaps a sneer.
How dare he? What impudence, to come swaggering into his presence as though he had naught to do with the stillness of Osiris' heart, or the pain that wracked his body even now. His wife had woven her magic well, but just as she could not breathe true life into him once more, nor could she banish the aches that radiated from whence she had joined his body together again. It would fade in time, he had no doubt; had already eased to an extent.
Pain as greatly as anger sharpened the gaze he gave to acknowledge his brother's arrival. The pain was not merely physical, for once upon a time not so long ago, Osiris would have laughed and stepped down from his throne to embrace his boisterous, braggart brother.
Those days were gone.
To his credit, Osiris' voice displayed none of the venomous anger that could, might birth hatred. Nor, however, did he feign joy to see Set; his ever-soft voice was cold and distant as his stance.
"It would do you good to speak less caustically of Anubis. He has never done you an unkindness, and he is your blood." Though not his son, or perhaps he was. It was true, Osiris had lain with Nephthys on the night she became impregnated with Anubis, but so also had Set. The boy had grown well and wise, some could say enough like Osiris to be his alone, but that was no certainty of parentage.