Sometimes he could see her in his dreams, her lips of gold behind blushing lotus blooms, the sparkle of still Nile water upon her cheeks and a cloud of gold floating upon the gentle ripples, gently carrying them away. Her bewitching eyes locked onto his own, held them fast, and made his head spin. Anck-su-Namun, his other half, oh of the odes of joy he could sing for her. It did not matter that his talent lay in tricks and slights of the mind and the divination of the Gods, it mattered that he would be there for her. If he were a man starving in the street gutter, he would not have been in wont with her in his arms.
And he had failed.
He had lost her grasp, no, let her go. In his despair, he often wanted to plunge upon a saber so that his heart did not burst from the pain, but from the joy that he would soon be joining her. Still, what held him back were the questions of "what if?" Did Anck-su-Namun even exist in the Underworld, at peace and pure of heart? Or lay she trapped somewhere between two chaotic planes because of him? His mind had gone down the same dark paths of thought millions of times over. Millions of times over he wished he could just be a mortal, whose only crime was to love. There were many things he could have wished for, but one was paramount.
He die so that she could live.
