A.N. Thank you for taking the time to check this story out! As a teenager I was absolutely obsessed with Stargate, and now as a young adult I enjoy reading about mythology. Let's just say that I've had this particular plot bunny around for a long, long time, and I've been contemplating whether to post it or not.

One of the gripes I recall having with the show was that the mythology aspect wasn't explored as much as I'd have liked it to be. Now, when I rewatch it, SG-1's plot armor also becomes so blatant that I don't see how my teen self didn't realize it. I suppose what I'm getting at, is that this story aims to solve both those issues.

The premise of this story is that SG-1 are not in focus, but rather the Goa'uld, and one of them in particular. It's an original character, based on true Egyptian mythology, and his backstory and role among the other Goa'uld will become more detailed later on. I've taken plenty of inspiration from stories like Empress in the Shadows and Endless Pantheon, so if you enjoy those, I'd wager that you'll at least have a fun time reading this.

Finally, I'd just ask that all you hardcore fans out there forgive me if I don't always stay true to the continuity. I need a bit of creative freedom here and there - for the sake of the plot, of course!

I hope you enjoy the prologue!

/CE

The Garden was a peaceful and quiet planet. Amongst its inhabitants it was not uncommon to hear words of praise and gratitude, for being granted the privilege of living upon it. They were not forced words, but genuine ones, and it was not hard to understand why.

Lush fields of grass stretched as far as the eye could see, covering hills and plains until they would meet tall mountains in the distance and merge with clouds of purest white. Amidst the thick blades of grass one could sort out a vast variety of flora, growing with such vitality that every individual plant seemed to actively reach out for the gleaming sun above it.

The ethereal beauty stemmed from the fact that the planet's landscape was virtually unmarred, save for a little speck on one of its five continents, too small to be visible from space even as naught but a glimmer of light. That same tiny and insignificant speck also marked the only point of civilization the Garden harbored.

The city - Aaru - was built around a central monument. The intricately detailed, golden buildings stretched around the monument in almost arbitrary patterns, forming a sort of steadily expanding maze. Every inch of their walls appeared to tell a story, for there was not a single spot left blank, instead covered in straight, endless lines of hieroglyphs.

The monument itself was a thing of legends, towering into the sky at many hundreds of times the height of a man. It was a pyramid, with countless layers ever slimming until they eventually formed a sharp tip at the top. To the naked eye, the massive construct would seem to be made of stone. However, upon closer inspection, a perceptive mind would notice that the surface was much too smooth, and far too cool to the touch. Only metal the likes of which was not native to this world held such a property.

If the pyramid could be compared to a temple, the artificially constructed assortment of greenery surrounding it would be its orchard. Dozens of trees formed an enclosed pathway leading out and around of the structure, with many different kinds of fruits hanging down, ripe for the picking. One of the paths led to a humble porch, overlooking the entrance of the pyramid as well as the great city surrounding it.

Six figures stood calmly spread out across the porch, with one of the figures being surrounded by the other five. The figure in the center, a tall man, was clad sparingly, wearing only a set of white boots and pants tied to his waist by a golden sash. Around his wrists, biceps and neck he wore equally golden bands of metal, the style of which also matched the device fastened to his left hand. The only piece of garment covering his upper body was a circular shoulder plate, reaching down over his chest and back. Thick, raven hair flowed down to the man's shoulders, swept back by the wind in a manner that made it resemble a lion's mane.

He was Shezmu, god of this world.

The five people forming a circle around him were Shezmu's elite guard of Jaffa, and closest confidants. Perhaps he even considered them friends. They wore heavy-plated golden armor, shielding the entirety of their bodies. Helmets shaped after the head of a lion covered their faces, open in a constant roar, with four sharp metal fangs protruding threateningly. In their hands they each held a staff, as long as their wielders were tall.

Suddenly, all five of the guards slammed their weapons into the ground, causing a slight indentation on the pavement. With a crackle of electricity, the ends of the staves enlarged, now glowing a deep orange color. Pointing them at Shezmu, each Jaffa let loose a powerful blast of energy.

The god merely placed his right hand atop his left, and erected a protective shield around him. The wall of light fizzled slightly as the blasts made contact, but held strong. The moment he removed his hand, and the light died out, all six warriors leapt at him with fierce battle cries.

He immediately knew who the first Jaffa to reach him was. His First Prime had a very distinct way of moving, especially in combat, as though she were trying to emulate water. Her graceful steps were something to admire, and Shezmu felt a burst of pride in his chest, knowing that she had reached this level of proficiency by his hand.

Not that it helped her land a blow, of course. A slight lean to the side and the staff only barely grazed a few strands of his hair.

"You'll have to do better than that, Seshem." he mocked her, twirling rapidly to avoid another two of his guards as they attempted to stab him in the back and abdomen.

He could practically feel the woman's glare behind the helmet, as she straightened herself and discreetly motioned for the others to place themselves behind him.

"Oh, I will, my Lord. Just you wait." she answered.

Shezmu found himself continuously dodging lightning fast staff strikes, all the while eagerly anticipating to see what new strategy his guards had come up with. Just as he flipped over a slightly underhanded swipe to his legs, Seshem suddenly fired a bolt from her staff into the ground, launching a pile of dirt and dust straight into his face.

Were he ten thousand years younger, that might actually have caught him off guard. As it was, he could easily hear the rapidly approaching footsteps from both in front and behind of him and quickly rolled to the side. Raising his Kara'kesh, he sent a moderate blast of kinetic energy in the direction he came from, and snickered at the sight of his warriors flailing through the air and landing a distance away on the ground, groaning.

In fact, Shezmu was so amused, that this time he failed to hear the far lighter and softer steps making their way to him, and much less the subsequent kick to the back of his legs that made him loose his footing. He would have fallen unceremoniously were it not for the same person grasping his arm and throwing him over their shoulder.

However, he would be damned if he went down that easily. Grabbing the guard by the neck, he made sure the two of them fell together. By a stroke of luck, he landed on top, and could get up almost immediately.

"That was impressive! Let me guess, you're Qe'det, aren't you?" Shezmu asked, already having an inkling as to which of his elites he was staring down at.

This was the reason his guards all wore the exact same armor. If they did not, he would know exactly what kind of moves to expect and not have as much of a challenge.

The downed Jaffa nodded, getting to her feet. "Of course, my Lord. Who else but your Chief of Strategy could possibly produce such a feat?" she said.

His other guards had now made their way back to him.

"Now, now, Qe'det, we were all in on that, weren't we? Can't have you hogging all the glory." a man spoke. Shezmu recognized his voice as belonging to Medes, his Chief of Defense.

Which meant the unidentified remaining two were Sa'ret and Petekh, his Chief of Intelligence and Chief of Integrity, respectively.

"Alright, that's enough for today. Retract your helmets." he ordered, and a second later all the lion's heads folded back to reveal five familiar faces.

He let his eyes briefly flash golden, to which they all stood at attention. Shezmu then smiled.

"This is the first time you've managed to strike me. You have made me proud, and I'm sure I'd be hard-pressed to find more competent Jaffa anywhere in the galaxy."

The look of happiness on their faces was almost rewarding in itself, and he found himself wondering once again how the rest of his kind could be so stubbornly foolish. A true god was as equally bound to his subjects as they were to him. Their happiness was his happiness, their growth was his growth, and their power was also his power.

Eons ago he had attempted to explain this to the other Goa'uld, but they would not listen. Even when they began to ponder why no Jaffa would ever betray him, or why there were never any human uprisings within his domain, they refused to accept his reasoning.

They were too set in their ways, or perhaps, their brains too damaged from overuse of the sarcophagus. Maybe he was an exception, like Egeria before him, who had gone on to establish the Tok'ra resistance. Not for the first time, Shezmu cursed Thoth to oblivion for his invention.

"My Lord, is something the matter?" Seshem asked, stepping forward with a concerned look on her face, and he quickly snapped out of his musings.

"No, it's nothing. I suppose we're finished, then. You may return to your duties, or use the remainder of the day as you please."

All but his First Prime bowed and left, most no doubt leaving to go about their own business.

"Shezmu, let's cut the crap. What's bothering you? You were all cheery and now you've got that same solemn look on your face as you do when you're thinking about them."

The emphasis Seshem put on the last word let him know that she knew exactly what he was thinking about.

He might have laughed at her bluntness, were they in another place, at another time. As it was, the god turned his back to her, and stared up into the sky. The warmth of the sun against his skin was but one of the things he had truly learnt to appreciate since being banished to the Garden.

"All we ever did was kill. For millennia, we took slaves, only to torture and kill them once they outlived their usefulness. After a while, we even began to turn on each other. Tell me, does that sound healthy to you?" he asked, wanting but not really expecting an answer, although the ensuing silence ended up conveying meaning as well as words ever could.

"And now, the tables have turned. The Goa'uld are being hunted, by humans no less. I would've found the irony poetic were it not for the grief and anger it causes me."

Shezmu swiveled around to face his First Prime, meeting her brown eyes with his own pair of glowing, golden orbs.

"I resent my kind for what they did to us. I despise them, for what they chose to become. But most of all, I hate myself for not doing anything about it."

His normally controlled voice grew louder, and he subconsciously began altering his host's vocal cords until the sound they produced became a magnitude deeper and echoed.

"However, they are still my family! Despite their faults, I don't want to see them killed off by some humans!" he growled.

"It's already bad enough that Ra and Hathor are dead, and I'll be surprised if Sokar hasn't killed Apophis yet. And that's only mentioning a few of them!" he shouted, letting loose a long time's worth of pent up emotion in front of the only person he would ever willingly show a moment of weakness.

While breathing heavily to steady himself, Shezmu nearly missed Seshem's soft-spoken words.

"Then save them."

At first, he thought he had misheard her. He stared at her with wide eyes.

"Y-you would-" he hesitantly began to ask, her encouragement having shocked the depth out of his voice.

She nodded. "We all would. We've been making regular reconnaissance missions with the Stargate already. You know there isn't anyone monitoring this system anymore."

He was about to protest on her behalf when she cut him off.

"And don't worry about us. We know what we're getting ourselves into. Besides, weren't you the one who said we're the most competent Jaffa in the galaxy?" she asked cheekily, tucking a stray strand of her long chestnut hair behind her ear.

Acting on impulse, Shezmu strode forward and threw his arms around his First Prime in a tight embrace. If he had eyes on the back of his neck, he would have noticed her smooth, round cheeks turn a vivid shade of red.

"Thank you. Thank you so much." he whispered repeatedly into her ear.

They stood together in each other's arms for a long time, both taking pleasure in the company of the other, once in a while whispering silly platitudes and remarks. A light draft of wind tousled their hair and provided a cool, refreshing sensation in contrast to the blazing sun.

They might have stood there for the entire day, if not for a young errand runner hurrying in their direction to greet them. Upon seeing their compromising position, the boy's jaw dropped to the ground and his eyes bulged almost comically.

Meanwhile, Seshem remained blissfully unaware of the boy's presence and continued snuggling against the crook of Shezmu's neck, rubbing soothing circles along his bare back. The god let out an involuntary rumble of laughter and gently pried himself free of the hug.

"We have a visitor." he said softly, enjoying his friend's reaction as she turned and jerked in horrified surprise.

"You saw nothing." she said, fixing the poor lad with one of her threatening glares. The boy nodded so hastily that managing to keep his head on his shoulders was, in fact, somewhat of an impressive feat.

He cleared his throat. "My Lord, Chief Sa'ret is requesting your presence. She claims to have received important information."

Shezmu shared a glance with his First Prime, and nodded in acknowledgement.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention. What is your name, child?" he asked, not being able to recall this particular runner ever approaching him before.

"Kha'x, my Lord." the boy responded, smiling. He then continued in a more dejected tone of voice. "Chief Sa'ret is my great-aunt."

That revelation explained a whole lot. Sa'ret took every opportunity she could to instruct her younger relatives in the art of spying and interrogation. He was actually dreading what sort of legacy his Chief of Intelligence would leave behind.

"I see. That great-aunt of yours is too sly for her own good. Tell you what, why don't you stay here with Seshem and work on your martial arts, while I head off to see Sa'ret. Children your age should have fun, not listen to the droning of old crones."

Kha'x face lit up in a beaming smile, and he quickly hopped over to the woman beside him, grasping hold of her arm and whooping in joy and thanks. Shezmu chuckled as his First Prime was led away by the enthusiastic youth, all the while throwing desperate, helpless looks back at him over her shoulder.

Unfortunately, his merriment was short-lived. Sa'ret only bothered to contact him when the news was unpleasant. Settling into a brisk walk, he strode through the decorated pathways of the orchard back to the pyramid's main entrance.

It was strange, he thought, that he had spent so much time on the Garden that he had completely stopped referring to the structure for what it truly was.

A Cheops-class warship.

That had been his family's first mistake. Whether out of pity or as a show of supremacy, they had allowed him to keep a fragment of his original property. He had been taken aback when Ra arrived at the Garden shortly after his banishment, accompanied by his cadre of protectors.

Without a single word they stationed a lone warship, filled to the brim with his Jaffa, at this very place. Then again, they had not provided any Prim'ta, which led him to believe it was indeed a show of supremacy.

They had probably expected Shezmu to witness his subjects die before his very eyes, their bodies failing them along with any children that might have been sired. Coupled with the fact that they also left him stranded on a world with a Stargate, it became rather obvious that it was not a gesture of kindness, but a statement.

Was it not pathetic, for a Goa'uld to be confined to a planet with the means to leave it, but not the opportunity? The Supreme System Lord made sure to have spies stationed in the system, and as long as he was alive there was always the risk of someone tracking his activity. It was therefore that Ra's sudden death had come as both a boon and a tragedy.

Shezmu entered the ship, its sensors already having detected his presence near the door, which was disguised as one of the blocks constituting the pyramid. It retracted and slid apart, revealing the embellished interior. The inside of the ship looked more like a temple than a vessel capable of interstellar travel, but such was the vanity of his kind, not that he himself was entirely immune to it. A larger part of him than he would like to admit still appreciated the elaborate design to this day.

Humorously, he pondered, his family had done him a service in providing this lesser ship instead of a more modern Ha'tak. Its simple design allowed for much easier reverse engineering and upgrading, and in five thousand years with nothing else to do, he had managed to get a whole lot of work done. He allowed himself to be transported to the bridge, all the while amused by the thought of his fellow, extremely jealous Goa'uld, once they realized just how superior this supposedly obsolete hunk of metal was.

Materializing in the center of the bridge, he was met with the sight of Sa'ret arguing heatedly with her advisors. Her short, curly and slightly greying hair emphasized the stern wrinkles on her forehead, while she admonished a poor man over something Shezmu could not quite pick out. They did not seem to have noticed him yet, too busy analyzing a steady stream of information flowing onto the screen in front of them.

"So, what do we do, then?" the same man asked, a tone of irritation in his voice which suggested it was not the first time the question had been asked.

"We will do nothing. Once our Lord arrives the decision will be his." Sa'ret responded agitatedly.

He chose to have a bit of fun and leaned in between the arguing duo.

"Well, here I am. What's all this about?" he inquired, letting out a short bark of laughter when every person in the room turned, eyes wide as though stunned by a Zat'nik'tel.

"My Lord!" they chorused. "We did not notice your arrival".

Shezmu waved off their concerns and faced Sa'ret. "No worries. Now tell me, what did you wish to speak about?"

The atmosphere turned distinctly uncomfortable, and the wrinkles on his Chief of Intelligence grew even more distinct.

"As you know, we've been overseeing the activities on Delmak for quite some time." she said, to which he nodded in response.

She continued. "The probe we placed on one of the Tok'ra operatives dispatched to the planet has suddenly gone offline. A likely explanation is the the Tok'ra in question has been sent to Ne'tu, where the probe's long-distance capabilities would be compromised by excessive heat, gas and moisture."

He processed the elderly woman's words, and the gravity of the situation. It had been an extreme hassle, and taken a decent amount of luck, to find a window of opportunity to place that probe on the Tok'ra. It was also one of the few reliable sources of information they had on both their and Sokar's activities.

Following his silence, Sa'ret elaborated her discoveries further. "I'm afraid that's not the worst part, my Lord. The final transmission we intercepted from the Tok'ra revealed that Sokar has now amassed a force great enough to rival all System Lords combined. He is planning to overthrow the Goa'uld Empire."

Shezmu was unable to keep his shock from showing. The idea of someone like Sokar holding even a small amount of power was terrifying, and even more so when that power was the supreme force in the galaxy.

Unbidden memories of the past came to him, and he remembered the young and almost innocent Goa'uld who had in a rare moment of compassion chosen an albino human as his host, to spare him the consequences of the vicious superstition that ran rampant in that age. Their kind's genetic memory took some time to fully establish itself, and although Sokar had always had a nastier side, it was hard to believe he would become the monster he was now.

Sokar was one of the few that Shezmu truly believed completely beyond redemption, and Sa'ret must have shared that opinion because she looked at him with a serious expression, matched by the pair of assistants beside her.

"It may not be my place to say, but at this stage we must act, even if it means exposure." she said, her words containing an imploring undertone he would never have expected from her.

He understood that this was it, the moment of choice that would determine the fate of his people. For five thousand years their lifestyle had been one of both natural and technological prosperity. For that to change from a day to another was not a decision to be taken lightly.

He recalled the conversation he had only a short while ago with Seshem. She had unmistakably vowed that his Jaffa would follow him, even if it meant giving up their lives for the sake of gods long since renounced.

If he were honest with himself, Shezmu knew that his decision had been made already then.

He walked toward the throne-like command chair and took a seat, staring eerily through the large viewscreen at the city beneath.

"I agree. We will seize control of Delmak and vanquish the blight that is Sokar once and for all."

As he spoke, his voice grew more and more determined. "Summon the Ashrak and the Lion Guard at once. Ready a platoon of soldiers and verify the integrity of all the ship's systems." he commanded.

Sa'ret and her assistants hurried to comply with his orders, all three of them now sporting cruel glints in their eyes, promising not a shred of mercy to their enemies. Watching each of them leave, Shezmu considered the circumstance he had been placed in, and thoughts of annoyance and discontent occupied his mind.

"If those fools insist on playing at gods, they should at least have the decency to do it properly."