he was born to command gods.
and you're so aware, so painfully aware that there's something in him, the one who would inherit the names of the gods themselves, divine beasts that are sealed in the palace, and you're aware of the fact that there's something burning under his skin, something gold and divine and barely contained behind his smile
and so you train harder, you throw yourself into your studies until you can weave impossibilities into miracles into light, darkness and light folding in on itself into the chaos of the primordial eight gods, and you peer behind the veil of the curtain and he's still so far away, untouchable, you kneel at his feet and you follow him, always follow him, you're his second shadow, his right hand, you stitch yourself to his heart when you die
and you're a follower of Anubis, death is the rebirth of a new life and you sat down and you defied the gods so your life would always be tied to his heart, you can hear it even when he can't, a will to fight, a will to survive, you've always seen something in him he can't see, but you've always seen beyond normal sight, anyway
and nobody else sees it but you. sure, they see him as title, the political silence that blankets the court, but you knew even before he called down the sky, you knew before he sealed a demon god inside himself with only his own heart as a seal, you saw it before he screamed to the sky and his body turned to dust and the entire world fell before one, single boy.
you like to think, in some part, that he still doesn't know. but even if he does. your devotion as High Priest of Ra will never end.
you can pull down the stars and some part of you hope he, as the sun, was one of them.
