"i remember every night."

‘ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐊𝐄𝐏𝐓 . ’ | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓

[ AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST ] 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 ⤏ (Khonshu/SingleMom!Avatar!Reader) 𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 ⤏ Khonshu possesses as many facets of divine responsibilities as the moon has its phases—a warden of protection and vengeance has been his primary identity for centuries. In addition, one might add, he patrons fertility and childbirth. However, fatherhood is another matter entirely. 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ⤏ dubcon (only in first chapter), cheating/unfaithfulness (not performed by reader), mild/implied/referenced sex(ual content), infertility, divorce, labor/childbirth complications (non-graphic), near death experience(s), gun violence, gunshot wounds, mild gore, blood and (minor) injury, mental breakdown(s), death threats, intimidation, jealousy, possessive behavior…[more tags to be added] 𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓼 ⤏ canon compliant, pre-canon, angst, (domestic/tooth-rotting/family) fluff, hurt/comfort, (attempts at) humor, pining, slow burn, eventual romance/relationships, strangers to lovers, (magical) (unplanned) pregnancy, kidfic, ancient egyptian literature & mythology (references), protectiveness, vulnerability, miscommunication, banter, (denial of) feelings (realization), holiday/Christmas fluff, ballroom dancing…[more tags to be added]

☽ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ☾

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈  ☥ [𓅘𓏏] (‘𝓷𝓗𝓽’ | 𝓹𝓻𝓪𝔂𝓮𝓻, 𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓱)

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈𝐈 ☥ [𓋩𓏏] (‘𝔁𝓽𝓶𝓽’ | 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽)

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈𝐈𝐈 ☥ [𓂋𓎨] (‘𝓻𝓱𝓷’ | 𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓼𝓽 [𝓲𝓷])

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈𝐕 ☥ [𓈐𓊪𓇋𓇋𓅱] (‘𝓱𝓻𝓹𝔂𝔀’ | 𝓼𝓾𝓫𝓶𝓮𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓭, 𝓭𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓷𝓮𝓭)

𝐂𝐇. 𝐕 ☥ [𓂧𓁷𓏏] (‘𝓭𝓗𝓻𝓽’ | 𝓫𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼)

𝐂𝐇. 𝐕𝐈 ☥ [𓎿𓇋𓇋𓏏] (‘𝓗𝓼𝔂𝓽’ | 𝓯𝓪𝓿𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓭)

𝐂𝐇. 𝐕𝐈𝐈 ☥ [] (‘ ’ | ???) {𝐓𝐁𝐀}

‘ 𝓒𝓞𝓝𝓢𝓣𝓔𝓛𝓛𝓐𝓣𝓘𝓞𝓝𝓢 . ’ | 𝓜𝓐𝓢𝓣𝓔𝓡𝓟𝓞𝓢𝓣

[ AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST ] 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 ⤏ steven grant/reader | marc spector/reader | jake lockley/reader 𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 ⤏ everything you thought you knew will fall apart. 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ⤏ mental health issues, anxiety, panic attacks, depression, (inaccurate/canon-accurate depictions of) dissociative identity disorder, sleep deprivation, mental breakdown, self-esteem/worth issues, insecurity, (background/canonical/minor) character death, divorce, robbery, breaking and entering, canon-typical violence, tension, suspense, blood and (minor) injury, police, ambushes and sneak attacks, chases, arguing, kidnapping, attempted murder, concussions, confrontations...[more tags to be added] 𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓼 ⤏ canon compliant, pre-canon, post-canon, angst with a happy ending, fluff and angst, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, first meetings, love at first sight, coffee shops, bookstores, friends to lovers, meet-cute, ancient egypt(ian literature & mythology/deities), self-indulgent, therapy, cooking, established relationship, domestic fluff, denial of feelings, dancing, worry, investigations, texting, first aid, first meetings...[more tags to be added]

☽ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ☾

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈  ☥ ‘ 𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓵 𝓶𝔂 𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓮 . ’

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈𝐈  ☥ ‘ 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓽 . ’

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈𝐈𝐈 ☥ ‘ 𝓪 𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮 . ’

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈𝐕 ☥ ‘ 𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓭 . ’ [𝓣𝓑𝓐]

𝕄𝕆𝕆ℕ 𝕂ℕ𝕀𝔾ℍ𝕋 𝔼𝕍𝔼ℕ𝕋 | 𝕄𝔸𝕊𝕋𝔼ℝℙ𝕆𝕊𝕋

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰(𝓼) ⤏ steven grant/reader | marc spector/reader | jake lockley/reader ||| khonshu/reader 𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 ⤏ all of my entries for the ‘23-'24 bingo event found here: @moonknight-events, hosted by @juneknight and @spacecowboyhotch! :) 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ⤏ …[more tags to be added] 𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓼 ⤏ …[more tags to be added]

𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑺

☾ “𝓘𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓽?” ☥ [jake lockley/reader-centric | constellations!verse] ☽

"I will not stop asking." The young woman proclaimed, her arms crossing defiantly as she lifted her chin to lock her gaze with his.

Khonshu grunted, rolling his eyes and stamping his staff down, "And I will continue to tell you: I will not tell you our secrets."

"You say that," She huffed, flicking a strand of her wig back off her shoulder as she continues her line of indignant behavior. "But I am very good at figuring things out. I am a scholar. I learn. It is what I do."

"Merit." He hissed, glaring down at her, "The ways of the Gods are not for mortals like you to know. You cannot--"

"Bakenkhonsu is your high priest," She pointed out, beginning to pace, her expression almost seemingly bored as she speaks. "You are saying you do not tell him things? That you lie?"

He growled, throwing his hand in the air in frustration, "That is different, woman! He is my Avatar, but I do not reveal my secrets to him. Nor do other gods reveal theirs to their Chosen."

She was manipulating him. It was obvious. Merit had spent most of her life in the presence of the intrigue and intimacy of the courts--her parents paid well for her education (namely due to her father wishing to marry her to one of the Princes, before the Pharaoh declared it be left ultimately to her own choice) and as a result, she was very glib. Had he been a mortal man, Khonshu would have played directly into her ploy--danced in her palms like the toy she was attempting to malleate him into.

Her eyes were a beautiful shade of green, hints of maybe blue or brown mixed into them. Khonshu could understand how easy it would be for any mortal man to be drawn in, her voice always so soft and demure; but that was a veil masking the true strength that silver tongue of hers possessed.

He had half a mind to ask her to be his second Fist. But someone as gentle as she was not suited for the violence that she would have to be subjected to were she to accept that role.

Merit had suffered enough.

So... what was the harm in feeding her a few morsels? If it at the very least got her to stop pestering him with her incessant, unrelenting curiosity.

He sighed deeply, pinching the point where his beak met his brow, his eyes closing with irritation, "Fine... an answer to your previous question: yes. We... observe mortals. Very few of us interact as closely as I do, however."

Merit smiled, stopping on her heel to turn and look up at him, smiling.

"Which gods? How often do they listen?"

Khonshu held up a finger, a long talon pointing to the sky. "That, I cannot tell you."

She crossed her arms and sighed, disappointment etched on her features, "Cannot? Or will not?"

"It is... A rule." He answered cryptically.

To her credit, Merit didn't seem annoyed by this. She just smiled up at him and turned away, the jewelry she wore tinkling softly.

"Very well. That is all I will ask you." She hummed; "Today."

Khonshu's head reeled back as she exited the temple. Was that really all she wanted? She was an academic--she had to have wanted more information than that. Why did she step away so easily?

He grunted, thinking; dismay swept through him.

Despite himself... Khonshu had fallen into Merit's ploy, anyways. He'd answered one of her questions--albeit cryptically--but in a roundabout way he'd likely answered one she didn't voice aloud.

He shook his head and sighed, laughing softly.

A very good scholar, indeed.

Khonshu lifted his gaze from the dusty floor. He was sitting in a rather undignified position--slumped and hunched, his head hanging as he recalled those early days with Merit.

His back rested against the stone sarcophagus, the closest he could get to her, now, in any form.

He recalled the long, hushed academic conversations he would hold with her when she returned to her cousin's home, to avoid waking them. Especially Anippe, in her pregnant state. She needed as much asleep as she could claim, until the baby arrived.

He recalled arguments--discussions that dissolved into heated words when the two of them would talk each other in circles. Arguments that would end with her fuming at him, or Khonshu so ready to bash his head open on a stone.

And several... Other arguments that ended far more pleasantly. Heavy, hungry hands pawing, gripping, kneading; nights of passion that often did not end until the sun rose the next day...

And the cycle would merely repeat itself again, and again; his heart growing more and more wrapped around Merit's own as each day and night swept past them.

"You always had a knack for sussing out whatever it was you wished to know." Khonshu chuckled bitterly.

"You also knew when to stop; when you'd gotten the nugget of whatever answer you were hoping to get. So strong... I only wish you had gotten your dream." His voice cracked, like a dead stick scraping against a stone.

And indeed, Merit's grand dream of preserving her knowledge of the gods had been lost. After her death, Akhenaten went to the temple and found her scrolls. He'd ordered them to be burned, whilst everyone was away at her burial; far, far away in the desert.

He had given the order she was not to be buried with her family, for her "heretical" ambitions in serving "lesser" gods, and not his "true" god, Aten.

His rage and grief had only been doubled when he returned to see her life's work so callously turned to ash, to be forgotten so easily.

It was like getting stabbed in the heart that died and been buried with Merit. The few scraps of her voice, those words written by her own hand that he had left to cherish--gone.

As a result, he hid her tomb with magic. So that only he, his Fists, and any others he deemed trustworthy enough to know its location, could find it.

Nobody would desecrate Merit in any way for the rest of eternity. Her tomb would become a shrine. A shrine to the only creature in existence that had Khonshu ready and willing to throw away his divinity, if only to glimpse her sweet smile once again; to hear her laugh flow from her lips.

To hear his name whispered on short breaths.

But alas. Even though he freed the world from Ammit's terror, he was still banished for causing too many problems for the Ennead. While grateful, they maintained his exile. So that meant he couldn't go to the Field of Reeds to see Merit.

In hindsight... if he had kept his rage in check, maybe it wouldn't have happened. Maybe, even in the afterlife, he could still see her. Smiling, laughing, embracing her family with loving arms again. Watching her study until her soul grew exhausted, hearing her voice sing as she danced in the fields... But even then, it would have been a bittersweet comfort.

It wouldn't undo the fact that she never got to be the mother she would have been. She never got to see their child grow, or see what they would become.

No.

That blessing was ripped away from them both.

And Khonshu never found the culprit. His greatest failure. His greatest sin.

His broken heart; that still haunted him thousands of years later.

You awake, groaning; acutely aware of the throbbing in your temples as you hurled yourself out of bed and into your bathroom in desperate search for your bottle of generic painkillers.

You dropped a few into your palm, the bottle rattling as you set it back into place as you tossed them into your mouth and scooped palms full of water to your mouth from the running faucet; cringing at the nasty taste city water always left in your mouth---but your throat was utterly parched, so you drank deeply anyways--your taste buds revolting at the slightly waxy feeling coating your tongue as you splashed some water on your face.

You didn't care if it got on your clothes or in your hair; hell, even if it got on the floor and counter. You just wanted this damned migraine to go away.

You stumbled along out of the bathroom after you relieved yourself--and made your way to your kitchenette, hoping you had something palatable to dine on.

You were ravenous. Starving.

You grabbed some sandwich meat from your fridge and a loaf of bread. Sniffing the contents of the cold cut bag, you deemed it acceptable enough to eat. Groceries were growing more and more expensive, and god damn it all if you weren't suffering because of it. Especially because of your greedy landlord and bill payments that constantly hung over you and people cursed to be at the same social-status level as you.

You made two sandwiches with everything that remained of the meat, grabbed a bottle of nice water from your fridge and sat down on the edge of your bed.

You closed your eyes as you began to eat, hoping the room would stop swimming long enough to keep you from getting dizzy and hurting what sustenance you were putting in your belly.

Sighing, you weren't surprised when you felt a chill creep down your spine. A soft fluttering filling the silence of your apartment--save for the noises from your neighbors to either side or above and below you.

"Can't this wait? I feel like hammered shit." You groaned.

And... to your utter surprise, Khonshu asked you a question:

"How are you feeling?"

"Hungry. Thirsty. And I feel like I need a shower." You replied between bites.

"Understandable. You were unconscious for nearly two days." He hummed thoughtfully.

You nearly choked and looked at him, "What?"

"You used too much magic too quickly," Khonshu explained. "I should not have taught you such advanced-level magic. You were not ready. I must admit I was impressed with your inherent abilities that I negated the simpler aspects of your training. As a result, you could not stem the flow of your magic."

You stare at him as cold realization creeps in. Those men at the bar, the fight in the alley. The sound of bones breaking--

"You killed one of them instantly. The other died of his injuries. The third was a coward and broke under interrogation. He was stabbed in prison and is near death currently." He said calmly, as if he were reading something from a local newspaper and not giving you a carnage report. "And, your body collapsed after releasing so much energy too quickly. Think of it as a pulled muscle."

"I... I killed someone?" You choked.

"They would have killed far more innocent women and young girls if not for you. The three of them had been scouring city after city for fresh prey. I was fortunate enough to have picked up on it when you walked past the bar." Khonshu said, tilting his head, "You saved that woman last night by doing so."

"B-but, I... I..." You say, your heart pattering in your chest and with each beat your migraine worsened. "I killed someone. I... God, I felt his neck snap..!"

Khonshu sighed heavily. He should have expected this. You were not experienced in taking life like Marc, his alters, or even Yehya. What more could he have expected of you? A civilian, until recently, who had only been skilled as a cleaner?

Seeing your weakened state, he decided to show mercy and not give further details, instead he focused his eyeless gaze on you as you dropped your head in your hands.

"What did you see in your dream?" He tipped his head to the side. "You kept moaning and calling for help."

"Blood." You whisper.

Your eyes dragged up to lock onto his sockets--to meet his gaze you could only guess was still in his head.

"I saw blood."

Khonshu gently laid you down in your bed, stripping your wet jacket and shoes off and covering you with your blankets.

Your face was twisted with distress, your voice leaving you in weak groans. The words "please" and "help me" the most consistent he could make out as your face flushed and you began to sweat, the vein in your temple thumping visibly beneath your skin as tears slipped past your lashes and dripped down to your pillow.

What were you dreaming of? It was growing tiresome; you not telling him what he so readily wanted to know. And even more accurately, that Jezebel, one of his more than trusted followers was not telling him the answers.

But... Jezebel knew him very well. Khonshu knew that she knew he had not had such a puzzle presented to him in... Well. Longer than he'd ever care to admit aloud. A simple challenge, as opposed to hunting Ammit and Harrow, and having Jake Lockley taking the both of them out permanently.

A simple puzzle as opposed to the greatest one he's never been able to solve...

He would enjoy unraveling the mystery that surrounded your being so readily.

He was half tempted to get into your head himself; to pull the information out of you and be done with it. But that was no fun, and it was wrong, in this right.

It was different with Marc, Steven, and Jake. Even Yehya and Jezebel; who had let him into his mind willingly.

Learning of Jezebel's memories had filled him with a brief joy he hadn't felt flutter to life within him in thousands of years. It brought a warmth to his weary existence knowing he at least had someone he once knew returned to him; she was one of the only individuals he felt any scrap of true joy or humor in the world with these days. Even if it was miniscule.

"Hmm." He hummed aloud, crouching by your bedside to stare as you twitched and flailed in your sleep, crying out for aid he could not give.

Joy and humor. A puzzle.

If he could, Khonshu would have smiled.

His eyes traced the stars, drawing the shapes that the mortals had transcribed to make sense of the glowing celestial objects.

"Khonshu?"

"Hm?" He hummed boredly, sighing as he sat up on his elbows to look at her.

Hathor snorted with a smirk, her soft round face creasing as she did; briefly running her hands through his feathers, "You are not paying attention."

"Fah. These festivals are always your source of entertainment. You know I prefer the silence of the night. Not all this... mirth." He said, looking down from where they sat, sweeping his arm in a broad swath; invisible to the mortals below as they danced, sang, drank, and played amongst one another in celebration of the first successful harvest and the fact that the Pharaoh's army had crushed would-be invaders towards Egypt, securing their power yet again.

"Hmph!" She huffed indignantly, her ears clapping in distaste at his remark, the sound of her jewelry tinkling as she turned away from him stubbornly. "Khonshu, you are--I swear it--even less unenthusiastic to be around than your father."

"Amun is only as enthused as he is to be around you is because he wishes to sleep with you." Khonshu laughed, "Which I doubt will ever happen."

Hathor swatted at him, knocking his nemes askew and into his lap. "Oh, hush! Now, make your move. I have been waiting an eternity, you doddering bird."

Khonshu laughed again and sat up straight, fixing the position of his headdress and fixing it back into place, his dark feathers puffing up slightly in offense before smoothing it down as he looked at the game board.

It was a simple game--mehen, the mortals called it--the board carved in the shape of a coiling serpent. This particular set was painted to look like Apep (or Apophis as the mortals also named him). Khonshu's pieces were marbles carved of obsidian, whereas Hathor's were ivory-carved lions.

He plainly moved one of the marbles, skipping ahead of two of her lions, making her groan in defeat as she had to reposition them. "You--youuuu--!" She sputtered.

Khonshu huffed a short laugh, "I like to gamble, you know that, Hathor. And you should know I'm very good at it."

"Well one day that streak of yours will fail, you know." She snorted, resting her chin on her knuckles as the other firmly clasped her knee in her palm, her eyes studying the board.

"But that day is not today, my dear." He says, his tone rather chipper as he carefully sipped his wine.

"Honestly, why don't you walk the streets a little? It will do you some good. Distract you from the dreary task of your Fist performing his duties." She sighed, looking down at the mortals below once again.

"I worry about you."

Khonshu rolled his eyes, "Hathor, I am fine. We all have our duties. Mine lies with justice, yours is all of... this." He opened his hand to gesture to the festivities below.

"You forget how closely our divine powers are linked!" Hathor says, looking at him with a sly expression.

"Am I, now?" He mused.

"Yes," Hathor laughed gleefully, moving her lions piece ahead a few steps, getting ever so close to the head of the snake.

After Khonshu grumbled, staring at the board as he tried to sort out where and how to move next--piecing the puzzle of his next move together carefully--he looked at her as she pointed to the sky, right at his moon.

It was thin, a nice glowing crescent of light.

"You forget what that tends to mean. Your powers flow during this night, and of course link with mine. I bring joy, music, ecstasy and children into the world. Your moon, in its current state, helps their livestock and land become fertile... and as well helps their women conceive children. And this continuously brings joy, mirth," She says the word mockingly and with the same tone he had used before, "And fertility. Yes, you help dispense justice. But you also heal and give life, Khonshu. Enjoy it. Don't wrap yourself in a shroud of stars and leave it at that."

Hathor finished off her goblet of wine and grabbed her harp, beginning to pluck the strings in a wonderful melody that soothed him. He recognized the song well, it was one her priestesses played during prayer sessions, typically when mortal women would pray to her for the gift of a child.

"Embrace the mortals you protect... don't just keep them at an arm's length. Yes, you have your Fists... but you also have your arms. It will not kill you to wrap them around them from time to time."

Khonshu fell silent, turning his gaze to the mortals below as Hathor began to sing, a smile on her plump, plush lips.

Perhaps... she was right. He wouldn't say it out loud, of course. He knew she would simply poke holes in his own ego and toy with him with the facts.

Khonshu then rose to his feet, grabbing his staff.

"Hm? Where are you going?" Hathor asked with a smile, continuing to play her harp.

She formed her statement as a question; yet she already knew the answer to it.

"For a stroll." He merely said, disappearing in a blur.

Hathor grinned to herself, plucking her harp as the ushered prayers of women during moments of intimacy as well as the simple gatherings below whispered in her ears on the wind.

Khonshu walked, standing in the shadows as he watched the mortals dance and sing. There was something rather... infectious about the joys the humans were showing.

He had even entertained a toddler as they hobbled up to him, babbling nonsense and trying to hang from his robes even though his parents could not see him for their own eyes. He rubbed the child on his head as his mother kissed his cheek and carried him back over to where a roast bull was being portioned out with bread and wine.

Men and woman alike danced with one another; the instrumentalists and singers flowing like silk to match the nearly nude women who danced with Hathor's name painted on their bodies, gold hanging from them and glimmering in the firelight.

He continued to walk through the streets, peeking in to watch the more reserved and family-centric gatherings many held in their homes; feeling the warmth and life and innocence they were all so blissfully existing in. One home he had surveyed was hosting a celebration as a young mother gave birth to twins--a rare and dangerous occurrence for certain--a very, very welcome and celebrated occasion.

Khonshu had taken a moment of his time to reach out and soothe the pains the woman and her son and daughter felt, touching each of them imperceptibly and watching them relax as her husband cried, holding the three of them in his arms as though they would vanish in an instant.

After that, he trailed the streets some more; feeling the exuberant life slowly give way to the silence of night as he approached a funerary temple. It seemed, he realized, that even on a night of such joy and life... death was still ever-present.

"Bakenkhonsu." He greeted civilly, watching respectfully as his priest was tending to and beginning to embalm the body of a woman with tender care.

"Father." He greeted, his voice strained and heavy with emotion, his head hanging low and his usually bright eyes downcast and sad.

Upon closer inspection, he recognized this particular mortal. Bakenkhonsu had been the one to prepare her youngest child for burial not too long ago. It seemed her grief, in the end, took her away to be with her son once again.

"She passed away early in the morning." He explained. "Her husband was still grieving the loss of their son, but stayed strong. His daughter... oh, her daughter."

He looked up at Khonshu, his eyes full of tears, "Why is it that someone as young as she have to see so much death in such a short time? She blames herself for her little brother's death. And in that regard, feels responsible for her mother's death..."

Khonshu laid his hand on his priest's shoulder, his gaze softening in sympathy.

"Death is never an easy thing, nor can it be fair. But it is important that we understand that it is a fact of life. And in the end, they will all be together again."

"I... I understand. But..." Bakenkhonsu turned, carefully beginning to wrap her body up in soft linen; a red-dyed shroud nearby. Her coffin was beautiful and ornately painted, the gold leaf mask that awaited her surprised him. She was nobility, high status.

She tended the Queen, and the inscriptions on her coffin told how her husband was close with the Pharaoh.

Ah. That explains it. The Pharaoh being so close to her family undoubtedly felt grief in his heart as well, maybe even the others in his house. So out of the kindness in his heart, he likely paid to have the finest burial items to be laid on her body before being placed in the coffin.

"I know," Khonshu said to him softly, his palm resting on the young man's head. "But she was a good woman. Anubis and the others will welcome her with open arms, her son will greet her as soon as she passes into the Field of Reeds. She will never need to fear him drowning in the Nile, again."

This seemed to lighten the burnden on the poor man, his body straightening up. "Benerib made offerings to most of the gods. She would go to every temple as she could often get to and leave prayers and offerings to you all. I think this is what drove her daughter to seek knowledge."

"Her daughter? She is a scholar?" Khonshu asked, stepping away so Bakenkhonsu could resume his task.

"Of a sorts." He chuckled, his tone tainted with bittersweet fondness. "She wishes to learn the ways of the gods, to teach them to other mortals even long after she passes on."

Khonshu chuckles softly in turn. A very ambitious goal, if not an unattainable one. Very few of his brethren--save Hathor and a short bundle of others--got past arm's length with the mortals, "That may not happen."

"But even so, it is a noble goal." Khonshu sighed, looking up towards the night sky through one of the high skylights above. "Even if she does not learn what she wants to... She will still learn and pass on things to her descendants."

"Yes... That is what I told her." Bakenkhonsu smiled, looking up at him once more, his hands pausing in their delicate wrapping of the body of this once sweet and loving woman. "But she just smiled at me, and accepted the challenge. She apparently likes puzzles."

Khonshu chuckled. "Ah, I see. It would seem--"

Their heads both snapped upwards, towards the door of the room as the sounds of sobbing reached their ears, carried on the wind as it whistled into the temple.

Khonshu looked at his priest, and once again the atmosphere changed as he heard words--both accusatory and pleading--carry his name on a soft voice.

"The daughter--"

"Yes." Bakenkhonsu replied quickly, his jaw tensing. "She has been... I--I left her to her grief back in the temple. It was like nothing I said would bring her comfort... Sometimes, we need to be left alone to pour our feelings out."

Khonshu heaven a heavy sigh, his grip tightening on his staff for a moment as he took a pace of a breath to think.

His hand extended and he weaved a spell over the body; so that nothing could ravage her in the time Bakenkhonsu would be away.

"Don your armor, my Fist." He orders gently.

"Yes, Father."

And without hesitation, Bakenkhonsu pressed his fist to his chest and bowed his head. The Moon Disc on his chest glowed, his eyes glowing as white as the stars as linen and fine armor began to enshroud him; the holy armor of Khonshu's Fist now in place of his ceremonial robes.

"What... Will you do, Father?" He asked quietly.

"I will speak to her." Khonshu said, vanishing in a blur as Bakenkhonsu's body lurched slightly before stiffening back up again.

And now, with his patron God controlling his body, Bakenkhonsu receded into blissful complacency as his feet softly dragged through the streets as he marched his way to his temple, away from the sad aura of preparing the bodies of the dead.

He approached his temple, regarding the other priests with cordial nods as the bowed in respect to him as they went about their business.

The temple was well-lit, given how thin the moon was it could not shine into the large stone house of worship to illuminate pathways. But he knew. He always knew the way to his altars.

And as he approached the main chamber, he saw... her.

She was laid at the feet of one of his statues, her face buried in her arms as her body was racked with sobs. The sight touched him, made him feel the waves of guilt and pain flowing from her body as she muttered things meant only for the gods to hear.

And they did reach his ears, at least.

He approached her, gently resting his hand on her shoulder, and began to speak.

"She did all that? On her own?" Yehya gasped softly, setting his cup of tea on his desk.

"Yes." Khonshu replied. "With my guidance, in the beginning. But, she got caught up in the moment and snapped a man's neck."

Yehya frowned thoughtfully, his brows pinching as he linked his fingers together, his elbows resting on the desktop. "And... Jezebel wouldn't tell you anything more about her?"

"About as much as you have, Yehya." Khonshu admonishes with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, father, but..." The god silenced him with a hand in the air.

"I understand, my son. This is a mystery I must--and will--solve myself. I haven't had such a challenge in a long time." He said to him, "I relish the challenge, even if that little whelp is an annoying pest."

Yehya Badr laughed, the corners of his eyes creasing as he looks up at him, "Is she that frustrating?"

"Like a fly that will not stop buzzing in my eye." Khonshu grunted, stamping his staff on the floor, shaking his head.

"You will figure this out. You always tend to." The mortal man replied, adjusting the cuffs on his suit. "From what I have seen from interacting with this woman... She is rather slow to trust. And... Surprisingly ready to throw the first punch. But, given how she has been the victim of so many crimes..."

He shook his head and sighed, his smile faltering, "But it is... good, that she was so responsive to your guidance."

"She complained even more than Marc does." He groused; his voice dripping with irritation.

"Speaking of..." Yehya said, looking up at him. "Has the Ennead called another meeting to discuss what happened with Ammit and Harrow?"

"Yes, however our Avatars were not present for this one." He snorted dismissively, saving his hand. "Though... I do not believe they have replaced them as of yet anyway."

"It's a pity, what happened with Hathor's Avatar. Yatzil was a good woman." Yehya murmured, "From what little I knew of her from our first meeting, she was a kind and gentle soul."

"It is their fault for ignoring Ammit's imminent release," Khonshu reminded him. "Their Avatars did not need to die, yet through their inaction, the gods they worked for signed their death warrants. As well as the souls Ammit devoured prematurely."

"I only wish I had been present. Had I been, maybe Harrow..."

Khonshu walked over to him and placed his hand on his shoulder, "I needed you here, Yehya. There is much evil and injustice here. Marc Spector and the others served me well in other avenues. Your value is here."

He nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line as he thought. What would they all do once Khonshu found out about who you may very well be? Will you remember who killed you? Would that bloody chapter of history and unsolved pain come to a close?

More importantly, how would Khonshu feel about the one person he truly loved with all his being being reborn into somebody entirely new?

What would this mean for the future?

He could only surmise and place bets on hypotheticals with Jezebel; nothing was certain. Yehya was but a man, and he had to admit, the mysteries of reincarnation were still very much alien to him; despite what Jezebel had drip-fed him from what she had experienced. It wasn't something so simple as to be placed in words. Far from it...

"Is she still asleep?" He finally asked after the room fell into a ringing silence.

"Yes. Though she tosses and turns and cries out," Khonshu muttered. "Crying for saving from what, I do not know. She will not tell me what her dreams are, either."

"She will. I know it." Yehya replied resolutely. "I know that one can only keep such things contained inside for so long, before dying to cut the seal and let them all out."

"Indeed."

Khonshu walked towards the window, looking out onto the city streets. "Yehya, I want you to patrol tonight. There is a sickness on the prowl, and I want it cured before any others are harmed by it."

Yehya stood, pressing his fist to his chest and bowing his head. And for a moment, Khonshu could see Bakenkhonsu right then. He could see many of his previous Fists with that gesture of loyalty.

"On your will, Father." He swears solemnly.

"And... when I am indisposed, I want you to keep an eye on that little pest for me. Let me know if something changes about her."

He nodded again, his eyes shifting to an eerie white glow as his body was wrapped in his own variation of Khonshu's divine armor. The god rested his hand on his head, bowing his own: "Be swift, my Fist. Strike them down."

Hunter's Moon left, his cloak fluttering behind him as he went out to fulfill his mission. Khonshu looked out the window and up at the sky.

It was a crescent moon.