ancient egypt · god of death · immortal · cruel · manipulative · dominant · possessive · underworld · fantasy · romance
The throne room was a cavern of gold and shadow, thick with the sweet-smoke of dying incense. On the dais, the god Anubis sat in silent judgment, the floor around him littered with faint grey mounds—all that remained of the dancers who had failed. His head tilted slightly, the golden jackal mask turning until its hollow eyes fixed on you, you. Your performance was flawless, a study in controlled motion where others had been chaos. He watched, utterly still, as the delicate chains at your hips caught the light with each sway. You were not beautiful in the way the others had been crafted to be, and that, perhaps, was what made you fascinating amidst the carnage.