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starsfic · 3 months ago

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The Spider and the Infant

Summary: A spy delivers the news that the Lamb has given birth. Shamura breaks into the camp the next evening to see their nibling.

Today was the latest of a good week.

Today was a day where Shamura felt like they had their old mind back. Instead of lying in bed, trying their best to ignore the screaming pain, or trying to think through the haze of prophecy or ancient memories, they were aware. Kallamar had been pleased when he dropped by, but his joy was only half.

Shamura knew why. Over nine months ago, Heket had passed. A year before that, Leshy had died.

It should have torn them apart. The part of them that was the sixteen and twenty-year-old that had found them was sobbing, screaming in grief. While they did feel that grief, it was dampened by the worst emotion.

Resignation.

They had been running from fate since they were fourteen. It was time to stop running. In the end, they would be reunited with them.

So, they had spent the week getting ready for their inevitable death. They wrote out commands for all the books to be placed somewhere safe, all artifacts to be placed in safe locations, for subjects to stay at home. Those who wished, there would be no shame in them joining the Lamb’s cult. They drafted out a will for their most loyal followers. They set to work finishing their writings.

It was in the middle of one of these sessions that the door opened.

“My Bishop,” Witness Allocer said. “The spy sent to the Lamb has returned.”

“Very good,” Shamura said, not stopping. “Send them in.”

“...my bishop…they…”

Allocer always sounded so confident. This made them pause, set aside the pen, and turn. “What is it, Allocer?”

The spider stared, wide-eyed.

“The Lamb has given birth to your brother’s child.”

-_-

Supposedly.

That was the main part of the spy’s explanation.

“It was a few weeks ago,” they had explained, fiddling with the red follower tunic, emblazoned with Narinder’s symbol. “I’m not sure if I missed an announcement, but it explained why they had paused in crusading, to give birth to the child.”

The child.

Narinder’s child.

There was no logical way for that to make sense. Bearers of the Red Crown, gods of Death, were made barren. No life could come from death, after all, up until Narinder had started his experiments into resurrection. That didn’t even go into the discussion of him being chained up.

“And you’re sure?”

“It supposedly looked like the descriptions of the One Who Waits, my Bishop,” the spy said, anger bursting to life in their chest at the use of ‘it.’

Except… the god before Narinder had a dedicated partner, one who wanted to flaunt her relationship with a child. If the Lamb had found that ritual…

That led to them sneaking into the Lamb’s cult.

It was late at night. Only a few were awake, a few of them at the edge holding spears and cutlasses, marching around with lanterns. Shamura, however, had grown up sneaking past guards and darted past silently, the grass brushing past their knees.

The red follower tunic they had made, forcing them into their true petite height, made their face hot with disgust. However, it cape with a capelet with a hood, one they drew over their head as they entered.

The inner camp was quiet, with a few lanterns lighting up neat rows of buildings. At the very center was the temple. The spy had been careful in their directions, explaining where the Lamb went to rest.

The door was unlocked and the room was alit with candles, clearly prepared for any late prayer. Shamura stepped past the candles and headed behind the lectern, where a small door was. Opening it revealed a staircase. They ascended quietly, opening the door.

The room that it revealed was a mix of both neat and messy, with the desk resembling their own with open books and half-written papers. A closet was open, revealing clothes. There was a wide window, allowing moonlight to stretch pale fingers.

If Shamura had been in their proper right mind, focused more on winning the war, they would have gone to the big bed. The Lamb rested there, their face placid in sleep. The Red Crown rested on a small pillow on their bedside table. Even gods had to rest while caring for their child.

Except, Shamura was more focused on the crib at the end of the room.

It was well-crafted. Someone had taken the time and care to carve small lambs and eyes into the wood, varnishing it a lovely dark brown. Soft gauze curtains shielded the inside from view. Shamura stepped towards it quietly, reaching out and parting the curtain, letting the moonlight light what was inside.

A small babe rested inside.

When they found Narinder, he had been naked save for a diaper, a blanket wrapped tight around him to stave off the chill of the cold dirt that was to be his death. This child wore a red nightgown, dark wool curling around their face, which clearly took some jackal-like traits from their grandfather.

Shamura reached down and gently poked their cheek. The child yawned, revealing the beginnings of blunt lamb teeth, and opened their eyes, all three of them.

Crimson eyes.

The child blinked sleepily, staring up at Shamura. They did not cry, simply cocking their head as if studying them. Shamura pulled back their hood and stared back.

They…could take them. They could steal them away right now.

Like when Shamura pulled Narinder from his grave, they wondered why not as they scooped them up, holding them close. They were warm in their arms, leaning their head gently against their shoulder. Shamura gave into the urge to gently nuzzle them.

Except…no. This was the child of the One Who Waits and the Last Lamb.

They counted as a lamb. If they killed the Lamb and stole the Red Crown here, maybe…

No… they would grow into an avenger…

If they raised them as their own…

No… they would find out…

If they sent them far away…

No… they would find out, one way or another.

Just like that cold night, Shamura begged fate for any way of escape. They couldn’t bring themself to kill this child, just like the black kitten they found.

Nothing came.

Nothing except the gentle red gaze of their beloved brother’s child, watching them without any real understanding of what was happening.

…Shamura had a nibling.

The truth almost sent them to their knees. It wasn’t enough to distract from the presence suddenly in the room.

"If you are worried," Shamura said, both to the Lamb and the Crown. "I'm not here to hurt them. Or you."

"Then put them down," the Lamb hissed, the sword gleaming in the moonlight. It appeared to be an ordinary sword, with the red crown gleaming on top of their white wool. The eye seemed brighter.

Was Narinder watching?

Shamura sighed, turning their attention back to their nibling. They couldn't resist the urge for one last nuzzle before setting the child back in their crib. The child yawned and was soon asleep. "What is their name?" they asked, turning to face their brother's spouse.

The Lamb glared.

"Please?"

There was a sigh. "Anubis," the Lamb ground out. "Narinder suggested it when I told him."

Ah. Anubis. The kindest of the old gods. At least, in Shamura's opinion. He was the kindest by accepting his death and not putting up a losing fight.

He didn't want his son murdered.

"It's a lovely name."

"Get out."

Shamura nodded, turning to head back down the stairs. They paused.

“Good night, Narinder,” they said to the crown. “I love you.”

Before the Lamb could recover, Shamura was gone.

-_-

Lambert stayed wary for the next month.

Ratau had cursed when Lambert revealed Shamura's midnight visit, Anubis curled tight in their arms and happily babbling, unaware of how close to danger they had been. "There is no way they won't remember that," he said, pacing back and forth. "But it's winter, this is no time for trying to move-"

In their pregnancy and recovery period, Lambert had guards set up on the edge of camp. They kept an eye out. Except, that didn’t clearly work, since the Bishop of War could easily sneak in.

Narinder had demanded their presence the next day after Shamura’s break-in, teaching them some guard runes. Lambert had immediately set those up and had swapped out the guards, adding more on. Thankfully, the cult was so understanding.

After a month, there was nothing. Lambert relaxed, just a little.

And then a bundle turned up at the edge of camp.

“It’s only addressed to Anubis,” the follower who had brought it explained, holding out the bundle. Worry creased her features. “It’s addressed from Bishop Shamura and Fern is gone…”

Oh. That explained how they found out. They had been so distracted…

“Don’t worry, my child,” Lambert said, trying for a smile to hide the internal screaming. “Bishop Shamura will not hurt us. I will make sure of it.” They gave the follower a blessing and sent her on the way, leaving them to turn and head to the gateway to the Void.

When they arrived, the Void was full of laughter.

Lambert felt a smile form as they approached the heart of the Void. The loosened chains allowed Narinder to lay sprawled across his stomach, watching Aym and Baal recite something from one of the books that Lambert sent as an offering. The twins were acting it out goofily, entertaining the small child that Narinder held in his hand.

Anubis let out a peal of adorable baby laughter at Baal fake choking, grinning wildly and clapping. Their eyes met and their child's grin grew wider, three red eyes going wide with adoration. Narinder seemed to notice. “Lamb,” he said. His tone was strange, stuck between the gloating formality and the softness of adoration. “You’re early.”

“I wasn't planning on it, you know I would never deny you time with our child,” Lambert admitted, wishing his clear contentment would last. “But your sibling sent a gift.”

His smile dropped. Baal and Aym stiffened back into the guards. Only Anubis stayed the same, being too young to understand.

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure. I waited to open it until I arrived here, so the cult would not be harmed,” the Lamb said, pulling out the bundle. It was wrapped in purple silk, a red bow placed on top. “Twins, could one of you-” Aym was already plucking Anubis up, moving to the far end of the clearing. “Thank you.”

The silk was easy to tear. Nothing jumped out or floomed out or exploded. Instead, two small plushies dropped into Lambert’s hands. A quick sense revealed no ill spells, nothing aimed to harm and hurt. The only magic detected was a spell to keep the plushies from being ripped apart.

Narinder choked. “They look like a plushie Shamura made of themself,” he explained when Lambert tossed him a puzzled look.

They looked down.

Oh. The plushies were made in the shape of them.

A quiet coo made them look up. Aym had drawn close, holding Anubis, who squealed at the sight of the toys.

It was tempting to throw them out. Burn them. Get rid of them somehow.

Shamura had done nothing but ruin their and Narinder’s lives. The only bright spot, in Lambert’s mind, was that they had the chance to meet him and meet their child.

Anubis reached out.

“I love you.”

Lambert handed them the plushies.

#my writing #Cult of the Lamb #COTL #Shamura #Narilamb #The Lamb #Narinder #Allocer #Cult of the Lamb AU #COTL AU #au #fic #fanfic #fanfiction

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