Fall of a Sun God
Series Title :: Lotus
Rating :: FR18
Fandom :: Stargate
Disclaimer :: I do not own these characters and no profit is being made from the use of them.
***Warning :: Death and violence abounds in this series because I am delving into the morbid concept of ‘one dies, another is called.' Hence the FR18 rating.
Synopsis :: To fall like petals off a flower. That was their destiny. Fall of a Sun God
Henna stained nails dipped, bringing the sharpened edge of the razor closer to the skin as Iput turned her head, eyes narrowing while she followed the angled contours of her god’s forearm. She reached the curve of the elbow and lifted the flattened piece of bronze away from smooth skin, dipping the disc into the clay bowl that sat along the edge of the bath. A deft movement with her thumb and forefinger cleaned the edge and she turned back to her god and repeated the process until his entire body was hairless and perfect.
A hand lifted from the oil-scented water and motioned the immaculate guards from the tiled room. The jeweled eyes of their hawk headdresses flashed in the muted light of the bath as they bowed their reverence and left their god with a child, a servant. Iput’s mouth curved into a dangerous line as she cupped the edge of the raised limestone beside the bowl and razor.
Her god, Ra, rose from the bath, water running in thin rivulets down the narrow planes of his body as his gaze brightened, a flash of iridescent white to battle the fathomless dark. She remained kneeling, head bowed and offering him the crown of her wool headpiece as he stepped from the shallow pool and onto the steps beside her. Her eyes shifted, caught the sight of the jeweled charm that, until this moment, always sat comfortably in the palm of her god’s hand as he brought forth the wrath of the sun to punish those he deemed immoral. Now it lay harmless and far from Ra’s reach along the edge of the bath opposite them.
Slim fingers compressed around the edge of limestone, creating delicate cracks in the mineral before Iput shifted her body closer to her god, a god that felt as dark and unwelcoming as the creatures the wanderer had shown her only four moons past. Creatures whose eyes had changed—much like her god’s did—eyes that had grown paler as ridges formed along their brows and they had turned to ash when their hearts were pierced with a shard of Nehet.
Her hand flexed and she released the edge of the bath and slipped her hand into the clay bowl that held the bronze razor. The sharp-edged disc fit easily in her palm as she rose and brought that disc up and through the front of her god’s throat. The delicate skin split and slowly filled with blood as her god blinked at her in surprise and fell backwards into the bath. She followed him, her narrow form covering his larger one as she struck once more and opened another thin line above the first.
Blood, the color of henna, the color of her nails slipped into the scented water, stained the white linen of her skirt as Iput brought the bronze razor against the warm skin of her god again and again. His head rose from beneath the surface of the water, eyes flaring with sun-brilliant light as he shouted for his guards, his saviors and she brought the razor against his face. The force of the blow knocked him back as a wound opened across the plane of his cheek and the back of his head impacted the bottom of the bath.
More blood spilled into the darkening water and Iput’s mouth thinned as she felt the slowing of her god’s heart beneath the palm of her hand and the bucking beneath her slowed. The heavy footfalls of the guards didn’t still the rise and fall of her arm as she spilled more of her god’s blood, more of his essence into the frothing water. The familiar sound of the guard’s weapons throwing the burning light filled the large room and Iput gasped, stiffened as she felt that light melt into her back and she collapsed forward into the water.
Her eyes opened, sightless as her jaw grew slack and bubbles slipped past her lips and rose up through the blood colored water as a snake-like creature emerged from one of the many wounds she had opened across her god’s throat. It gave a rattling shriek before slipping into the shallow crevice of her mouth as the guards made their way forward. They watched in silence as her body spasm, arms pressing tight to the sides of the bath before she shifted.
The muscles of her upper back stretched and bunched beneath the burn as she pushed the palms of her hands against the dead body beneath her. The wool headpiece slipped from the smooth crown of her head as the tainted water streamed down her form and she freed herself from the bath. She secured the jeweled charm—the hand device—in the center of her palm, flexing her hand around it. The orange stone in the center would have to be reshaped, resized to fit her more delicate frame.
Ra’s mouth curved into a dangerous line as she moved down the narrow steps of the bath and toward her guards. Her eyes flared, iridescent and god-like as her children knelt before her. The End.
Note :: Next fandom up ‘Battle Royale.’