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Chapter Text

Moses stumbled into his chambers, the heavy doors closing behind him with a hollow thud. The truth he had uncovered clawed at his mind and tore at his throat, refusing to let him breathe. 

He paced, and his hands trembled, the ornate carvings of his room blurring in his vision. How could everything he had ever known be a lie? He had grown up as a prince of Egypt, basking in the love of his family and the adoration of the people—yet all of it was built on a foundation of deceit?

He collapsed onto his bed, gripping his hair, as if trying to hold himself together. 

"No. This has to be wrong." Moses whispered to himself. Those Hebrews just happen to know a song I heard a long time ago. They could have heard it working in the palace... maybe-maybe... sung by a wetnurse or.. a maid. 

Moses ran his hands along his face and rested them in front of his mouth, leaning his chin forward to rest on his thumbs. 

He was pensive, anxious and unnerved, but he could not believe that all he was raised to be - the family he had grown beside - was a lie. 

Moses fell back onto his bed and closed his eyes. He had to deny the words of that woman. She was clearly unwell - the Hebrew man had said so too.

As he laid there, he kept repeating these half formed facts, hoping that come morning, they might have fully convinced him. 

When exhaustion finally claimed Moses, soon too did terrible nightmares.

In front of him, a mural rose of the Pharaoh standing with cane and scepter, surrounded by his queen and statues of the gods. 

The Pharaoh looked down, and the vision shifted quickly to the Nile, where soldiers gathered and kneeled before their ruler. 

The Pharaoh pointed his scepter, and the soldiers immediately infiltrated the city below. 

They begin into homes with spears drawn and exited with infants held callously in their hands. 

Some slaves chased behind them and cried out, only to be met with a sudden back hand or crack of the whip.

Blood pooled in the streets and ran into the river, summoning starved crocodiles to the surface. 

Their jaws crashed together like lightning in a desert storm as the Hebrew children were thrown into the water, and the beasts began to consume.

The soldiers continued their hunt, and Moses saw himself at the river, watching in horror. 

He locked eyes with the assailants, and they began to pursue. 

Moses ran.

Every step he took, pain began to radiate from his feet upward. With it, the woven gold thread of his sandals frayed and fell away, the wrap around his waist turned from linen to tattered wool, and his bright medallion turned grey with tarnish, then cracked and fell to the ground. 

His back ached and stung as if he had been slashed by a thousand scythes. His knees became weak and buckled beneath him. He clenched his eyes shut and set his jaw, preparing for the inevitable impact, but was caught by the strength that remained in his hands. 

He opened his eyes and saw the bright turquoise ring which adorned his left hand. It shimmered in the light, then simply... vanished. 

Moses made his hands into fists, dropped his head low, breathed a horrible, ragged breath and wailed. 

The soldiers surrounded him and aimed their spears.

Then...

Moses' eyes shot open to the sound of metal clattering onto stone.

A small voice traveled across the room from the corridor outside his chamber. "Please sir... I beg you forgive me."

"How insolent!" Declared a new, brash voice, followed by a sudden smacking sound. 

With no thought having even yet formed, Moses appeared in the entryway to his chamber, pushing the curtains aside to reveal himself to a young slave girl and Egyptian nobleman. 

"Price Moses!" The man started in surprise, followed by a deep bow. A beat passed and he threw a sideways glance at the girl, who had not yet moved from her position on the floor. 

He reached out with his hand and pushed her down by the neck. 

"Bow before a son of Ra!" He said, then returned to his position of reverence. 

"You may leave." Moses said to the man, his voice hard and cutting. 

He rose and grinned in return, no doubt anticipating the prince's irate nature to be redirected onto the slave in front of him.

"Of course, highness." 

The man walked away and left them in silence. The girl was almost flat on the floor in front of Moses, and he noted she was trembling slightly. 

He sighed and turned back towards his chamber.

"You also may go." He said, then stepped back into the quiet of his room.

He sat on the edge of his bed and looked at himself. 

His linen wrap still held tightly around his waist, and displayed across the room were a number of his gilded cuffs and medallions. But most importantly, the ring Ramses had given him remained on his left hand. 

Moses took a deep breath in and placed his palm to his brow, wiping sweat he didn't notice was there. 

His stomach churned and head pounded. The sound of his discomfort echoed in his ears, forcing him to lay back.

He slid the ring from his finger and held it to his chest, breathing in slowly, searching for a feeling that he had hold of only yesterday, but felt so far away now. 

Each inhale pierced his heart with anguish, and every exhale released the sum of his sorrows until the monotony of breathing drove Moses back to sleep. 

Chapter Text

The sun was high in the sky by the time Ramses realized something was wrong. He hadn’t seen Moses at all today - not at the morning meal, not in the training yard, and not even doing his favorite pastime - waving at him from behind a nearby pillar to try and coax Ramses away from Hotep and Huy and do something more fun than studying to be a future ruler.

It was certainly unusual, this absence of his.

Ah, too much fun with the Midian girl I bet. Ramses thought, a sly grin gathering on his face. It seems I'll have to wake him from his stupor.

Ramses turned on his heels and strode towards Moses’ chambers, thinking of all the conditions he might find his brother. 

Really, all day and night with this woman... She must be quite good if he's been this preoccupied. Ramses rubbed the underside of his chin as he deliberated, then remembered last night’s events more clearly. The woman’s crazed eyes, snapping jaw, and bold declaration that she belonged to no one. 

A pit of unease took place in his stomach then, and he quickened his pace. He had better be in one piece. 

“Moses?” Ramses called as he reached the threshold to his brother's room.

There was no response.

Ramses pulled back the cloth and peered into the room when he saw Moses was curled up on his bed damp with sweat, and breathing shakily. 

Ramses rushed to his side, dropped to one knee and placed a hand on Moses’ forehead.

“By Ra Moses, what happened? Are you alright?"

Moses stirred, his eyes fluttering open. "Ramses,” he rasped the name between heavy breaths. 

Moses tried to sit up, but Ramses pressed him back down firmly.

“Don’t,” Ramses said. “I'll get the Wabu. You're clearly unwell.”

Moses turned his face away, his chest heaving as emotions warred within him. “Ramses, I—” He broke off, his voice catching.

Ramses frowned, leaning closer. “What is it? Tell me.”

Moses hesitated, his eyes glistening. “I... I learned something yesterday. Something I wish I never knew.”

Ramses’ brow furrowed.

“It’s about me,” Moses whispered, his voice barely audible. “About who I really am.”

Ramses stilled. He searched Moses’ face, his protective instincts flaring. “Moses, what on Earth are you talking about?”

Moses shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks, and after a pause, he spoke. “It’s… I’m not your brother, Ramses.” It was a heavy comment, and Ramses sat stunned at the claim, emotion welling up inside. “I can’t call you brother - I’m not even Egyptian. I…” Moses choked, “I was born a slave.”

Ramses’ eyes widened and he stood as if outraged, then placed his hand on Moses’s forehead. 

“You are my brother,” Ramses said fiercely. “And you are unwell. There is no reason to say such things.”

Moses stared at him, his lip trembling. “How can you say that? How can you even look at me knowing the truth?”

Ramses pulled back slightly, his grip on Moses’ shoulders tightening. “What are you talking about? You're my brother! You’ve always been my brother.”

Moses shook his head vehemently, his voice cracking. “You don’t understand, Ramses! I’m not who you think I am. I’m not—”

“Stop this nonsense!” Ramses snapped, his voice rising.

“It’s not nonsense!” Moses shouted, his frustration spilling over. “I wasn’t born into this family! I was pulled from the river like some discarded—”

“Enough!” Ramses barked, shaking him slightly. His eyes were alight with a mixture of anger and hurt. “Don’t you dare speak about yourself like that! You’re not ‘discarded.’ You’re mine. Ours. You belong here, Moses.”

Moses pulled away, his hands trembling. “How can you say that when it’s all been a lie? My whole life… Everything I have, everything I am.”

Ramses’ jaw clenched. “Do you hear yourself? You’ve been by my side since we were children. You are family, and this claim you are making is almost heretical, Moses. You are a son of Ra and a prince of Egypt as much as I am."

“Ramses, you're not listening!” Moses yelled, his voice raw. 

Ramses’ temper flared, he leaned over and dug his fingers into Moses’ shoulders. “I am Moses, but this has to be some kind of mistake. Surely, you're confused.”

Moses glared at him through his tears, his chest heaving. His anguish was amplified having now fought with his brother - he didn't understand at all. 

“The slaves—they’re my people, Ramses. I was born one of them, and if you don't believe me, then ask the man I once called father."

Ramses froze, his grip slackening as the weight of Moses’ words sank in. His anger gave way to disbelief and a flicker of fear that Moses was pushing him away. 

He had never done that before.

Moses shook his head, and pushed Ramses off of him. “I can’t be here right now.”

Ramses watched helplessly as Moses staggered toward the door, his body swaying with exhaustion. “Moses, wait—”

But Moses was already gone.

Chapter Text

Moses felt his body waver as he made his way through the halls of the palace. He didn’t know if it was his despondency or his anger at Ramses that made him shake the way he was, but he was anything but well. 

He rounded the corner to a room with pristine, white floors that ran directly into the river. Sheer drapes hung from the tall ceiling and brushed the gently lapping surface of the water where a tall, slender woman with a crown of gold sat among her servants and coterie.

Moses stood at the entrance to the room and his heart beat hard against his chest. For a moment, he considered turning back, but the option was soon taken from him.

“Prince Moses.” A servant girl holding a large frond stopped her fanning and bowed, followed by the rest of the entourage. 

The woman in the middle turned her gaze and took in the sight of her son.

“Moses.” Queen Tuya greeted him and stood, outstretching her arms and welcoming the young man to her embrace as she had done so many times before. 

As much conflict as he felt inside him, Moses could not help but find himself fall into those arms with practiced ease. He lingered there and felt the warmth surrounding him, then felt the warmth pull away as if a cloud had suddenly blocked the sun.

The Queen looked into Moses’s eyes and concern briefly flashed across her serene features. She lifted a hand and waved at her servants and ladies who silently filed out with less than a sound. 

“Come.” The Queen beckoned Moses over to a set of luxurious red cushions near the bank of the river. She gestured to the seat at her right “Sit.”

Moses wordlessly obeyed, slumping onto the cushion in a very un-princely manner, and crossing his legs.

“You seem troubled my child.” She said gently, studying the lines on Moses’s face.

“Please, you can’t call me that right now.” Moses replied, exasperated.

The Queen’s eyes widened slightly as she realized what his uncharacteristic dejection was about.  

“Moses.” She whispered his name and leaned forward to take his hands into her own, then began lightly stroking the back of his hand.

“This is where you found me, isn’t it?”

Tuya nodded. “Yes, the Gods saw fit to bless us and delivered you here.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Moses cut in, a cold edge slipping into his voice.

“Moses, please try to understand…”

“So everything I thought, everything I am… is a lie.”

“No.” She replied, firmly holding onto Moses’s hands. “You are our son and Ramses’s brother, and we love you.”

Tuya placed a hand on her son’s cheek and peered into his glistening eyes, willing her presence to comfort him. 

“You are a blessing, Moses, and this is your home.” She ran her thumb across his cheek. “Here is where the river brought you, and it's here you were meant to be.”

“I just don’t understand.” Moses muttered.

“There is nothing to wonder about, my son. Nothing will change. You have always been and will always be a part of our family.”

Moses leaned forward and buried his face in his Mother’s shoulder. Tuya embraced him and softly stroked his back while the desert sun beat upon it. Her embrace was a balm to his wounded heart, but it could only soothe the deep pains for a moment, not heal them. 

After a few moments, Moses broke away from the Queen and slowly rose to his feet. As soon as he left her arms, a cold pit rose from his chest and spread to his throat. The uneasy feelings which had temporarily abated having made a swift return.

“Thank you, Mother.” 

Tuya rose alongside him. “Think no more of this Moses, you don’t need to question your place here.

“I understand.” Moses said in a way of appeasing her, but he felt an anxious twist inside at the words.

The Queen smiled and brushed Moses’s cheek before walking away, her entourage returning to her side instantly once she had crossed the threshold of the room. 

Moses remained where he stood. He had defaulted to the son which would please his royal parents. Was that who he really was? And how long could he ignore the fact of his lowly origins before it caught up with him? 

It could just be a matter of time before others find out i’m not a true Prince of Egypt. What’s going to happen to me then? Mother told me not to question this or think on it further, but how can I forget what I know now? It changes everything.

Moses sighed and rubbed his temples as he inwardly waged this battle again. It was maddening how his mind kept running in circles. 

His head ached.

Chapter Text

Ramses was off balance. He wanted to storm into the grand hall where his father sat on his throne and demand answers, but he was forced to wait.

Advisors flocked about his father and were in a heated discussion about who knows what. 

As Prince Regent, he would soon be expected to attend these sorts of meetings, but he didn’t dare barge in uninvited and face the Pharaoh's scorn.

After some time, the men began to file out of the room. They each bowed to Ramses as they exited, but he hardly paid them any mind as he strode past them.

“Father, I need to speak with you.” Ramses bowed his head forward slightly. He was relieved that his time waiting outside the door allowed him to calm enough to fight his frustrations and maintain the decorum of a royal.

Seti nodded, acknowledging the young Prince’s presence. “You may speak.”

“It’s about Moses,” Ramses began, his voice hardened by his heavy mood. “He's just told me that he thinks he's not truly my brother.”

“I see.” Seti said, now pensive. “And how did he come to think this?”

“I.. don’t know,” Ramses admitted. “But he’s unwell, Father. He claims he was born a slave and doesn’t belong here. He said…" Ramses hesitated for a moment. He didn’t want to tell the Pharaoh that Moses had referred to him as ‘the man I once called father.’ He cleared his throat and continued. “He said you would know the truth.”

Seti sighed. He was standing now and slowly pacing while stroking his postiche. “Moses was raised as a part of the Royal Household, and as such is your brother.” The Pharaoh began, “But yes, he was born a slave.”

Ramses’s face froze as he finally allowed the information to sink in. A tight feeling gripped his temples, perhaps indignation at the fact that he had been left unaware. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Seti waved his hand dismissively. “Because it makes no difference. Moses was a gift from the gods. We were given him so that we could demonstrate our mercy and our strength. And for our efforts in raising him, he has become educated and wisened. He will be a loyal advisor and companion to you one day, when you are Pharaoh.” 

Seti stood in place and raised his crook to the heavens. “This is what the gods intended, Ramses.” He said, lowering his sceptre. “Moses will be a catalyst through which you continue the legacy of our great empire. Even knowing his origin, nothing will change.”

“You didn’t see him, father.” Ramses argued. “Moses has never once been insecure but he’s questioning himself, and he feels betrayed.”

“Moses will find his way.” Seti declared. “He may need time, but he will come to understand the will of the Gods.”

“I do not wish to wait and watch him suffer.”

“Then remind him of his purpose, Ramses. As a Prince, the Chief Architect, and your brother. This is all you can do.” 

“Yes, father.” Ramses bowed slightly and the Pharaoh nodded, allowing him to take his leave.

He had collected himself for the conversation, but Ramses was still having difficulty believing everything was true. 

They should have told me. He thought bitterly. 

Moses had always been a brother to him. As children, they cavorted on the banks of the Nile. They studied and learned how to fight by each other’s side. And just days ago, Moses became the spearhead of a mischievous plan to break Ramses free from his studies in the Temple and race chariots. 

One weak link can break the chain of a mighty dynasty!

Ramses’s frown deepened as he recalled the moment their father chastised them for their actions.

I am not the weak link. He thought.

Ramses continued through the palace. The servants bowed as he passed and thought it best to keep a distance from the clearly frustrated Prince Regent. 

All passersby simply fell from Ramses’s vision when he was in thought, so he paid them no mind as he proceeded to his destination.

On the outskirts of the palace, there was a corridor with two statues which sat facing each other.

He often climbed up the statue and sat ruminating when he felt the weight of responsibility settle onto his shoulders. 

It would be a habit he chose to indulge today while waiting. Because he knew that Moses would come here too.

Whenever they fought, they eventually met here and made peace. 

It was something unspoken, but just as true as the inscriptions on the temple walls. Ramses only hoped that this was something that would never change.

Chapter Text

Moses walked along the cool, alabaster stone halls of the palace. 

He ran his hand along the walls as he strode by, feeling every carved bump and ridge. The sweet perfumes of incense followed him and, for the first time, made him feel ill to breathe.

He let his feet walk without direction until they came to a stop in front of a large statue shrouded by the evening shadows. A twin statue mirrored it, though this one was still illuminated by the remaining light of day.

Moses leaned his head on the dark statue’s legs and hit his clenched fists against it.

“Ahh!” Moses yelled, frustration finally escaping. He felt hollow and angry at the same time. His mind raw from known reality changing completely overnight. It was almost too much to bear.

Moses heaved and slid down the statue, collapsing to his knees and slouching on the floor. He couldn’t keep these overwhelming feelings from the surface, and his eyes moistened as he tried to make sense of who he was.

This is all I’ve ever known. It’s all I've ever wanted… But it isn’t mine. It was just chance that I ended up here. If I hadn’t… Pharaoh would have let me die.

“Moses…?”

Moses jolted as a hand rested on his head from behind. 

For the single moment before he was addressed, Moses had feared it to be Seti. He was loath to see the ruler now, or be seen by him. It would have been too much while all of this was on his mind. But Ramses… 

“I’ve been waiting to speak to you again.” Ramses said gently.

Moses didn’t turn to look at his brother. He didn’t have the mental clarity to sort out his feelings about their last conversation, but something inside him had warmed when he heard his brother’s voice. 

“I spoke with Father.” Ramses started. “About what you said.”

“So you know it’s true then?” Moses sniffed. 

“What I know is that you and I are not related by blood. This does not make us any less brothers.”

“Ramses…”

“Listen to me, Moses.” Ramses placed his hands on Moses’s shoulders and crouched to face him directly. The younger prince averted his gaze in preference for the ground, but listened to the older’s every word. “If you are truly not my brother, then explain why I, future King of all Egypt, care for you enough to sink to the ground and comfort you.”

Moses couldn’t think of another reason.

“See?” Ramses said after a moment of silence. “You have your answer. Now stop moping and go back to how things were before.” He said as he playfully jostled Moses’s shoulder.

Moses took a deep breath in and held it for a moment before exhaling. Everyone had advised him to carry on, accept the will of the Gods, and not to question his fate. But the images of the infants drowning in blood and being torn limb from limb by hungry beasts haunted him. It could have easily been his own end. How could he just forget it?

“Ramses.” Moses finally spoke, his voice sounding hoarse. “I’m going to need some time.”

Ramses frowned slightly, no doubt dismayed that he could not have his cheerful brother back so soon, but nodded. “I understand.” 

The two Princes locked eyes for a moment and each felt a tension between them. 

“Tomorrow.” Ramses began. “Come to the Luxor Temple. We’ll be rebuilding it after our… outing the other day.” 

Moses couldn’t help but feel a miniscule smirk creep onto his face. 

“It will be the first project we work on together as Prince Regent and Chief Architect.” Ramses added.

Moses looked down to the turquoise ring on his finger and nodded. If everyone thought it was best for him to move on quickly, he thought he should at least try.

“I’ll see you in the morning then.” He replied.

Ramses smiled and rose to his feet, offering a hand to help Moses do the same.

He accepted the gesture and stood, his hand lingering in Ramses’s for a moment after he had risen.

“Goodnight Moses.” Ramses said, lightly releasing the younger Prince’s hand.

“Goodnight Ramses.” He replied.

Chapter Text

Much like the night prior, Moses’s dreams were tarnished. Every bit of his subconscious had been corrupted and turned to pestilential nightmares.

The world blurred in and out of focus by the time he woke, the edges of his vision clouded by half-formed dreams and aching reality. Sweat clung to his skin, cold and persistent despite the desert heat beginning to press through the palace walls. 

His limbs felt leaden and his stomach churned with anxiety, but he still dressed himself to meet Ramses at the temple.

He chose his typical golden cuffs and adornments, paired with his usual red lined, linen shendyt, and finally looked to the ring at his bedside.

He took it carefully and examined it, remembering his meeting with Ramses yesterday, and slipped it easily onto his finger. 

He felt the faint echo of Ramses’s hand on his, where the warmth lingered and provided a deep needed comfort. He hoped the feeling would keep him grounded as he tried to pick up where things had left, being the Prince he was expected to be.

The walk to the Luxor Temple was long and arduous for Moses. Each step made his bones ache as he walked carrying himself with the false confidence and demeanor expected of a son of Ra. As he finally emerged from the palace, the sun was already high, glaring off the pale stone buildings. 

Moses tried to focus on only hearing the chanting priests in the distance as he made his way to the temple worksite, but he was often distracted by the loud, sudden cracks of whips piercing his false sense of calm.

Ramses was already at work when he arrived, standing tall on a raised platform, his arms spread as he addressed a group of overseers. 

It wasn’t long before he noticed his brother’s presence, and Ramses’s eyes lit up as Moses made his approach.

“There you are!” Ramses called out, jogging down the steps to meet him. “You’re late. I was beginning to think you were hiding from your duties as Chief Architect already.”

Moses forced a smile, but it was brittle. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Ramses clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Come. I want to show you the plans for the eastern colonnade. We’re reinforcing the base this time - I won’t have another chariot mishap knocking over half the temple.”

He turned and gestured broadly, launching into explanations of limestone reinforcement, new fresco designs, and ceremonial improvements - but Moses barely heard him.

His gaze drifted.

Below them, in the temple yard, the slaves toiled under the sun. Their backs bent low, their cries rising between the cracks of Ramses’s voice. 

Moses tried to look away - to remember the feeling of the confident Ramses beside him, to devote himself to ignoring everything he had learned - but his breath caught and the world narrowed as the screams of the downtrodden rang in his ears.

It didn’t feel like he was standing above them anymore.

He felt like he was one of them.

His nightmares sprang to life before his mind’s eye - chains clinked around his wrists and dragged him down, rocks piled atop his back and a whip bit into the skin of his wrists and ankles as he sank, unable to carry the burden. 

He felt eyes upon him - eyes of judgement and absolution - in them, Moses saw Pharaoh Seti, and a glimpse of what he thought must be his fate.

“Moses?”

He flinched.

A hand touched his back - Ramses.

“Moses,” he said, concern laced in his voice. “Are you alright? You look... pale.”

“I’m fine,” Moses answered, a little too quickly. His tone was sharp and dismissive, urging Ramses to look the other way.

Ramses gave him a searching glance, his brows knitting slightly, then nodded.

“Good,” he said, his voice shifting back to its usual conviction. “Then let me show you something. Over here, we’re reinforcing the upper scaffolding - Hotep nearly lost his balance climbing it this morning. I told the engineers to widen the planks, but no one ever listens until someone nearly dies.”

He gestured toward the towering construction and began to explain the renovation in sweeping gestures. Moses followed, but only in body.

His ears tuned out Ramses’s words and latched onto the sound of a deafening crack , sharp and sickening, followed by a weak, tortured groan.

Moses's gaze snapped to the scaffolding overhead.

An old man - bent and dangerously thin - was stumbling across a narrow plank. The guard above him sneered, raised a whip, and lashed it across the man’s shoulders.

The man cried out and faltered, almost falling, earning him another swift lashing.

Moses’s chest tightened. His breath hitched as his focus was consumed only by the cruel display in front of him. It shook him to his core, and he felt a frantic plea rise inside him.

The guard raised the whip again.

“Stop!” Moses called, his voice cutting through the air like a scythe through grain.

The guard hadn’t changed course, and Moses couldn’t wait for an answer.

He ran - dashing across the hills of sand and up the scaffolding steps, his sandals slipping against the well-worn surface of the wooden planks.

“Moses -!” Ramses shouted after him, confused, but Moses was already climbing, eyes locked on the guard.

“Stop it!” he shouted again as he reached the scaffold.

The guard turned, startled, whip still in hand.

The old man shrank back in fear.

And Moses, without thought, lunged.

It was the only thing he could think to do to stop the man from causing any more harm, but before he could reach him, something slammed into his side.

Ramses.

The tackle took Moses off his feet, and they crashed from the platform onto the sand in a tangle of limbs.

A breathless gasp escaped Moses as he landed, the air being swept completely from his lungs. Ramses wasted no time, flipping Moses onto his back, straddling him, and with firm hands gripping his shoulders.

“Moses - what are you doing? Have you lost your mind? ”

Moses’s chest heaved. His eyes darted between the guard and the old man, still cowering just steps away.

Ramses followed his gaze.

“Get back to your duties!” The Prince Regent barked at the guard.

The man hesitated, glancing from Ramses to the younger prince below him, then gave a hasty bow and retreated.

“And you,” Ramses said, motioning to the old man, “you’re dismissed.”

The old man said nothing, but gave Moses a bewildered look before shuffling away slowly, returning to the heavy task of carrying his burdens.

Ramses looked down at Moses, still pinning him in place, his knees pressed against the exposed skin of Moses’s thighs. 

They both breathed heavily, and Ramses held onto him tightly, the rush of adrenaline in his mind insisting on incredulity and pressing Moses for answers.

“What were you thinking?” Ramses demanded. “If I hadn’t stopped you, you could have killed him!”

Moses said nothing. He just stared up at Ramses, lips parted, his eyes wide with dawning horror.

“I -” His voice cracked. “I wasn’t thinking. I just - he kept hurting him, and I couldn’t -” He broke off and looked away, unable to find the words to continue.

I almost killed someone.

The full weight of it was crashing down now. 

He hadn’t meant it out of anger. He was driven by an impulse born of anxiety and fear, and for a heartbeat, he felt terrifyingly close to the kind of man he didn't want to be.

Reality struck him in that moment, and he finally met Ramses’s demanding, insistent gaze.

His eyes reminded him of Seti’s burning, all-seeing stare, and set his defenses on high.

“Get off me!” Moses yelled, twisting beneath Ramses’s grip.

“No!” Ramses barked, tightening his hold and pushing Moses firmly into the sand. “I won’t let you run away from me this time!”

Moses shoved against Ramses’s chest with both hands, but Ramses held firm, muscles straining. “I’ll do as I please,” Moses hissed, rage bubbling up from somewhere deep and cracked. “Release me, Ramses!”

“No, Moses, I’m trying to protect you!” Ramses shouted back. “You think throwing yourself at a guard will change anything? You’ll only get yourself hurt!”

“I am hurt!” Moses yelled. “I can’t pretend that I'm the same as I was! Everything, all of this… it’s all broken!”

Ramses flinched.

Moses bucked again, this time twisting sideways and yanking his arm from Ramses’s grasp.

With a sharp shove to the older prince’s shoulder, he finally slipped free and stumbled to his feet.

He didn’t even look back.

“Moses!” Ramses called after him, but Moses was already descending the scaffolding, taking the steps two at a time, his form retreating into the sun-backed dust of the courtyard.

The silence that followed was thick and paralyzing.

The commotion had caused the workers to freeze mid-task. Guards, overseers, and architects stood idle and whispered in clusters, wide-eyed.

Ramses stood alone at the top of the scaffold, his chest still rising and falling from the effort of holding Moses down and losing him again.

His eyes swept across the site.

“What are you all staring at?” he barked suddenly, voice rumbling like thunder. “ Get back to work! ”

The order jolted everyone into motion. Slaves scurried back to their loads, scribes returned to their sketches, and the guards snapped to attention. The sound of movement slowly resumed, but the air remained heavy with all they had witnessed.

Still alone above them all, Ramses stared down at the path Moses had taken, his expression unreadable, save for the tension in his jaw and the way his hands clenched - his body still remembering the feel of Moses’s body beneath him as he fought to break free.

He couldn't stand it anymore.

Chapter Text

Moses stomped so fiercely through the corridors that his footsteps echoed like warnings around the corner of every hall. Busy servants jumped at the sound, and made their way quickly from view, no one foolish or daring enough to follow the royal.

He threw back the curtains at the threshold of his quarters and proceeded in, turning back for a moment to close the thick doors he normally kept open and inviting.

Moses preferred the open air flowing through his chambers, but today, longed for the stiffness and silent privacy of his rooms.

The doors closed with a resolute thud - an unspoken command to stay away.

Moses didn’t bother undressing.

He didn’t care if he lacked dignity or poise as he crossed his chamber and threw himself onto the bed, the cushions barely softening the impact. His chest heaved as he lay there face-down, his fists buried in the silk covers, knuckles tight and trembling.

His skin still burned .

He could feel the places where Ramses’s hands had gripped him - the shoulders, his arms - even the ghost of Ramses’s knee pressing into his thigh still pulsed faintly under the surface.

Moses let out a sound of frustration, somewhere between a growl and a groan, and shoved himself over onto his back, staring blindly at the ceiling.

I can’t believe he tackled me. He thought, frustration and embarrassment rising within him. But… If he hadn't… 

Moses dragged a hand down his face and gripped the edge of the mattress.

He felt like he was coming apart.

I can’t keep doing this, Moses thought, his fingers curling into his palms. I can’t keep pretending that I belong here, walking between two worlds that will never accept each other - that will never accept me.

He looked down at his palms and turned his hand over, the turquoise ring glistening.

What was he supposed to do now?

He couldn't live like this - conflicted, constrained, silent .

He closed his eyes.

A part of him wished he could unlearn everything he knew and return to the time when he laughed at Ramses’s side, free of questions and truths.

But he couldn’t, and the very fact taunted him.

Moses remained secluded in his chambers until the sun had dipped low. Outside, the sounds of the palace quieted - footsteps faded, voices dulled. But inside, Moses’s mind was still screaming.

He stood near the window now, clutching the sill, his eyes distant as they stared out at the Nile, the emerging stars glistening on its surface.

I could leave. He thought.

Tonight. No words or ceremony - no one to convince me I only need to stay and endure.

He contemplated the idea. How easy it would be to dawn a cloak and walk through the lower gate while the guards changed shifts - he could slip into the shadows of the city and be leagues away by morning.

His heart pounded. He thought of his mother and of Ramses. It felt akin to betrayal, but staying felt like suffocation.

Moses sighed deeply and was about to turn from the window - perhaps to pack, perhaps just to collapse again - when the door creaked open behind him.

“Moses?” Ramses inquired, voice quiet and tentative.

Moses didn’t reply, but Ramses entered the room anyway, closing the door softly behind him.

“I was told you came straight here after the temple.” Ramses continued. “I brought some food.” 

Moses heard the slight clattering of metal as Ramses placed his tray onto the table nearby. 

“Why are you here?” Moses asked, turning to face the older prince who stood in front of him with uncharacteristic hesitation.

“I wanted to see that you were alright.” Ramses offered. “I was… rough with you earlier. But I felt like holding you down was the only thing I could do. I just… I panicked. You were about to do something that couldn’t be undone.”

Moses turned away from him again. “Thank you, but I'm fine. You don’t need to concern yourself with my worries.”

Ramses took a step forward and placed his hand on Moses’s shoulder. “I’m trying to understand what’s happening with you, Moses. Truly. But you won’t let me.”

“You don’t want to understand,” Moses finally said, his voice flat. “You want things to go back to how they were.”

Ramses paused, his breath catching.

“Yes,” he admitted. “Part of me does, because you were more… you. And you were with me.”

“I’m not the same person anymore.” Moses replied, voice heavy with emotion.

“Then who are you, Moses?”

Moses let out a soft, bitter sigh. “I don’t know anymore. But… I can no longer stand idle knowing my livelihood is being built on the backs of people’s suffering.” He tightened his jaw, his decision made.

Ramses moved in front of Moses, eyes bearing down on him as hard and heavy as his hands grasping his shoulders.

“You’re not leaving.”

Moses shook his head. “Ramses -”

“No.” Ramses refused. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to walk away. Not again.”

“Ramses…”

“If all you do is run, you’ll never be free from your torment.” There was silence for a moment before Ramses continued.

“I’ll fix it.” He said. “All these things that plague you, I'll see that they’re undone. I swear to you. Just…” Ramses’s grip tightened, sending the faintest sensation of trembling through him. “Please Moses, don’t leave me.”

Moses’s breath caught.

In all their years together, he had never heard Ramses beg .

But here he was - eyes glistening and fists trembling, the facade of the future Pharaoh stripped away and replaced with something raw and real .

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Ramses whispered. “But I can’t do any of it without you.”

Moses stammered at his words, and Ramses reached out like a man about to lose the one thing that tethered him to the world and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Moses stiffened at first - startled, uncertain - but Ramses didn’t let go. His arms held him like he was afraid Moses could be blown away like sand in a stray gust of wind.

Slowly, Moses’s hands lifted.

One hesitated near Ramses’s back.

The other curled into the fabric over his shoulder.

Moses pressed his brow to Ramses’s temple and let his eyes fall shut.

Just for now, he let himself be still.

Let himself be held .

Moses stayed still in Ramses’s arms, feeling the press of his chest with every shaky breath. The room around them had fallen silent - only the faint reverberation of two hearts trying to match each other’s rhythm pulsing in their ears.

Then Ramses spoke, voice low beside Moses’s ear.

“I don’t understand what’s happening to you,” he murmured. “I don’t understand why you see the world so differently now. Why everything feels like it’s slipping away.”

His arms tightened slightly around Moses’s back.

“But I want to try. I want to understand. If it means you’ll stay... I’ll do anything. ”

Moses’s thoughts were too tangled to say anything in return.

Ramses’s grip shifted - his hands sliding lower, pressing more firmly between Moses’s shoulder blades. His fingers dug in, not harshly, but with an aching need to keep Moses there , with him . Like he could mold their bodies into one shape, and that might make this moment last forever.

The intensity of it startled Moses.

“…Ramses?” he said quietly, a tremor in his voice. “You’re holding me like…” He trailed off, unsure how to name it. He pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

Ramses didn’t answer immediately. His chest rose and fell against Moses’s, and his hands stayed where they were, unmoving.

“When you told me you weren’t my brother,” he said at last, his voice tight, “I told myself it couldn’t be true. Because if it was... it meant I would lose you.”

He swallowed hard.

“But then I realized - if you’re not my brother…” Ramses’s gaze locked onto his, vulnerable and burning, “then I don’t have to pretend anymore.”

Moses blinked. “Pretend what?”

Ramses hesitated, but only for a breath.

“That I’ve only ever loved you like a sibling.”

Moses froze, his hands still resting on Ramses’s arms, his mind desperately trying to make sense of the situation.

“Ramses… I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Ramses’s expression didn’t waver. “I didn’t understand it at first either. I - I didn’t want to. I thought it was loyalty, or fondness, or fear of being left behind. But then… I started seeing the way I looked at you. The way it hurt when you pulled away from me. When you smiled at someone else. When you left.”

He lifted one hand to cup the back of Moses’s neck, tentative, reverent.

“I don’t know what this feeling is fully,” Ramses whispered. “But I know that I want you. Here. With me always.”

Moses could only stare.

The air between them was heavy, crackling with the weight of what had been said and the tension of what might come next.

Moses didn’t know how to breathe.

The weight of Ramses’s confession hung in the space between them, heavy and undeniable, like the press of stone walls closing in. He felt the warmth of Ramses’s hand at the back of his neck, the lingering pressure of his body close against his.

Moses didn’t know this feeling for Ramses, the man he had called brother all his life, but he wasn’t inclined to reject it. 

Instead, he lingered in his embrace, but looked away.

“Ramses,” he said softly, “I don’t know what to say.”

Ramses's fingers tightened for the briefest second, like he feared those words would be followed by rejection, but Moses didn’t push him away.

“I don’t… dislike this,” Moses went on, voice quiet, searching. “But I’ve never thought of you as anything more than my brother, my best friend… The Prince Regent.”

He looked back up, his brow drawn, eyes uncertain. “This - what you’re feeling - it’s all new to me. And right now, I already have so much in my head, I can barely stand it.”

Moses slowly stepped back. Ramses’s hands slipped from his skin with reluctance, dragging across his arms and finally falling away like reluctant vines unwrapping from a branch.

“I just… need time,” Moses said. “Time to think. To figure out where I stand. To figure out what I'm going to do - what I can do . ”

Ramses looked at him for a long moment. His expression flickered - hurt, pride, need - but then it softened. He gave a slow nod, lips pressed in a tight line.

“Alright,” he said, voice low.

He started to turn away, then hesitated again. “I do mean it, Moses.” he added. “Every word.”

“...Thank you.” He replied.

Ramses paused at the door and looked back one more time.

His gaze lingered, full of yearning. Then, with a quiet breath, he finally said, “Goodnight, Moses,” and left.

Moses stood there in the dim light, surrounded by silence. He touched his own arm absently, where Ramses’s hand had rested - it still felt warm.

He walked back to the bed and sat down slowly, the thoughts pressing in again - now not just of slaves and bloodlines and guilt, but of Ramses.

Not just the brother.

But the man.

And the look in his eyes when he said, “I want you.”

Chapter Text

The opulence of Ramses’s chambers felt suffocating in the quiet. The golden accents on the walls, the polished stone floors, the carved crocodiles that flanked his doorway - everything glowed faintly in the firelight, mocking him with perfection in a moment he had never felt more flawed.

He sat on the edge of his bed, still clothed, staring into the shadows.

Moses was going to leave.

He had stood there in his arms and said he didn’t know how he felt. That he needed time - that he didn’t know who he was anymore.

Ramses raked a hand over his head, exhaling hard.

He wanted to fight it. To push. To tell Moses that everything could still be the same - but it couldn’t, because Moses was changing. And Ramses…

He was still trying to catch up.

He leaned back against the pillows, trying to puzzle it out - the slaves, the suffering, the way Moses had looked at that old man like he was staring into the depths of the underworld. 

Why did it matter so much to him?

Why was it so personal ?

Ramses closed his eyes.

It was only a moment before sleep pulled him under like a tide.

His mind stirred.

The sun beat down like fire, but Ramses did not feel its heat.

He stood high on a platform, draped in ceremonial white, gold gleaming from his arms and brow. In his hands he held the crook and flail, his symbols of absolute power as Pharaoh.

Below him, the world was chaos.

Slaves moved in endless rows, dragging blocks twice their size across scorching sand, their feet burning with every step. Their backs bent like reeds, and every slowed movement was met with urgent fury by way of the whip. Dust rose in the air, choking and blinding those below him, but his gaze pierced through it all. Every movement was clear beneath his all-seeing eyes.

And then, he saw Moses.

His shendyt was tattered around his waist - no golden thread or finery adorned him. Instead, where he once wore his polished cuffs, loose shackles clung fiercely to his skin, rubbing his wrists red and raw.

His feet left a trail of blood as he walked across jagged stone, and his sunburnt back turned crimson with every fresh wound.

“Moses?” Ramses whispered - but it didn’t pass his lips. He saw the man he cared for being beaten in front of him, but his body wouldn’t obey his command to act.

Ramses watched as Moses’s knees buckled and he collapsed into the dust, dropping his charge.

A guard descended upon him at once.

“Lazy dog!” the man shouted, instantly bringing the whip down across Moses’s back.

Moses cried out - the sound a blood curdling scream that rattled Ramses deep in his heart.

He tried to crawl forward, reaching weakly with one hand, but the whip struck again, spraying blood into the sand.

“Stop!” Ramses finally moved his body, lunging forward at the guard like a feral beast, but he was pulled back by the ankle before he could make it.

He looked down.

Chains coiled around him, tying his body to the dias, refusing to let him stray.

“Moses!” Ramses cried out again, and the scene shifted.

He was seated on the throne in the royal hall. Surrounded by guards and nobles and marble grandeur. And below him, on the floor, Moses knelt.

He was frail as he sat before him bleeding, in chains, and trembling.

“Please Ramses,” Moses whispered, barely able to lift his head. “Please don’t do this.”

Ramses opened his mouth to speak - but the voice that came out was almost unrecognizable.

It was him, but colder, indifferent, sending chills through his subconscious mind.

“Let him be an example.” He declared, pointing at Moses as if lightning were to fly from his fingertips and strike him down.

The guards descended on Moses like a pack of starved lions. They tore Moses’s tunic from his body, leaving him bruised and bare, then forced him to his knees.

Ramses nodded, pleased, while inside the real him was screaming.

The guards beat him with rods as the court watched, first in silence, then growing amusement until they finally broke out into hollow, sadistic laughter.

Moses’s eyes lifted and met Ramses’s gaze.

He saw the deep hurt and heartbreak he had caused.

Then the whip cracked again, and Ramses watched as the soul fled from Moses’s eyes.

Like he was dead.

Ramses sat bolt upright in bed, sweat pouring down his face, his chest heaving like he’d been running for days.

The dream clung to him like a shroud.

He could still hear Moses crying out - and even worse - that dead, hollow look in his eyes.

Let him be an example.

He pressed his hands over his face, trying to still the tremor in his fingers.

It wasn’t real. It hadn’t happened.

But it could have. He thought to himself. It could have been real.

Ramses wanted to push the thoughts aside, but they were something that could not easily be cast out. 

Is this what Moses saw? Was he truly bearing witness to these horrors every day since he’d learned he was born a Hebrew?

If it was, Ramses could understand how it would drive the younger prince to change so deeply.

He sighed, a long, exhausted breath passing his lips.

There was no way he could go back to sleep after this.

Ramses rose and left his room, moving through the halls like a shadow. He had on simply decorated sandals and threw a robe loose around his shoulders.

It was too early for many to be wandering about the palace, though some stirred in the dimly lit corridors as he made his way back on the path he had just walked hours ago.

He paused at a familiar door - Moses’s. The polished wood gleamed faintly in the half-light. 

Ramses slowly pushed them, opening them just enough to see inside.

Moses lay curled in his bed, one arm twisted under his pillow, the other flung loosely across his torso. His brow was furrowed, his lips parted, breath uneven.

Even in sleep, he looks troubled . Ramses thought - his heart ached at the sight.

Moses , the mischievous, clever prince, now trapped in the same web of unrest Ramses had just escaped from minutes ago.

He sighed lightly and stepped back, pulling the door gently shut, letting the click of the latch settle in the quiet corridor.

He lingered in place, staring at nothing.

He hated how clearly he remembered Moses’s voice. “If I hadn’t been taken in, I’d be out there, suffering like them.”

Ramses let his back rest against the cool wall. The memory of his dream resurfacing and lingering like smoke in his lungs.

A shiver passed through him, and he wrapped his arms across his chest. 

Seeing Moses be beaten and abused troubled him deeply, and he was pained to admit Moses was right about what his fate would have been had the gods not intervened.

To Ramses, slaves had always been a fixture of palace life - a pillar of their kingdom’s power. They were always there, obedient and silent.

But when he saw Moses in their place, he saw the cruelty and contempt for the slaves for the first time.

It was too much.

I don’t even know where to begin.

Chapter Text

The first hints of sunrise painted the sky in faint orange as Ramses stepped into the shadowed stone corridors leading to the labor yards. He walked slowly, his head down, trying to collect his thoughts, before finally ascending the overlook where nobles and overseers often stood to give commands.

But this time, he was there simply to observe.

The moment he arrived, the atmosphere shifted.

Guards snapped upright and the few overseers attending the morning duties stood taller as he stepped into the sun.

The workers - slaves - looked down and quickened their work.

No one met his gaze - no one dared.

Ramses furrowed his brow.

They’re afraid of me.

Until now, he had thought it was reverence - the simple act of his presence demanding awe and respect.

But now, as he stood above them and truly looked - seeing the way their bodies stiffened, their eyes darted and their hands trembled - he understood.

He watched as a young boy, no older than ten, fumbled with a stack of bricks. One slipped, and the sharp crack it made on the stone floor echoed.

The boy flinched, visibly braced for punishment, but he was lucky none came.

Ramses felt an unfamiliar weight settle into his chest.

Is this what Moses sees?

He looked across the yard - not just at the slaves, but at the guards and architects. Their practiced indifference allowing them to confer casually as if these workers were no more than tools. 

It had always been normal, and Ramses himself had seen no issue here until just hours ago.

He folded his arms behind his back and stared, silent.

Not issuing orders, praising or punishing.

Just watching.

It was exhausting.

He exhaled slowly and turned to leave, the thought of the beaten and bloodied Moses tormenting his mind, but a sound stopped him before he could step away.

“ Ramses. ”

He turned.

Pharaoh Seti approached, his bearing regal and commanding even at this hour, the serpents atop his Nemes headdress glinting in the sun. Two guards flanked him at a respectful distance, but Seti waved them off as he stepped beside his son.

“I don’t often see you awake at this hour,” the Pharaoh remarked, his tone mild but laced with approval. “It pleases me to know you take your duties seriously. Very becoming of a Prince Regent.”

Ramses bowed his head slightly. “Thank you, Father.”

Seti surveyed the yard with a practiced eye. “The temple site is coming along well - though I heard there was a commotion yesterday. Something about shouting on the scaffolds?”

Ramses kept his voice even as he responded. “Ah, yes. Moses is still adjusting to his role as Chief Architect. He was out in the sun longer than he should have been, and I believe the heat… disoriented him.”

Seti’s brow rose. “Disoriented him?”

“He believed he saw a guard mistreating a worker. It wasn’t serious,” Ramses lied, “but it upset him enough to raise his voice.”

The Pharaoh hummed, clearly displeased. “He must learn to temper that dramatism. Outbursts like that cannot happen again.”

Ramses said nothing. His hands were behind his back, fingers clenched.

“You did well to calm your brother,” Seti continued. “And to keep the project on track. That’s the discipline of a future Pharaoh.”

“Thank you,” Ramses said again, though the words sat bitter in his throat.

Seti turned his sharp gaze on him. “And how was he by the evening? I assume he recovered?”

Ramses hesitated.

His mind flashed with Moses’s voice whispering, I just need time.

The feel of Moses’s arms beneath his, and the way he rested his forehead against his own creeped to the forefront of his mind. He quickly shook it off.

“I’ve decided he should rest today,” Ramses said carefully. “He’s… better. But I want to ensure he regains full clarity.”

Seti nodded. “Very good. This phase of uncertainty he is experiencing will pass.” He said simply. “Moses has always been emotional - idealistic - but he is loyal. Once he understands his place in this kingdom, he will serve it well.”

The Pharaoh’s gaze swept the laborers below - stooped, silent, and straining under the rising sun.

“All he needs is guidance,” Seti added. “And for you to remind him where he stands.”

Ramses nodded, though the motion felt mechanical. “Yes, Father.”

Remind him where he stands. He repeated, thoughts churning inside him.

How could he do that when Moses was changing just as quickly as the shifting desert sands? Not to mention that things had changed so dramatically between them that even Ramses was on uneven ground.

Where does he stand? Ramses thought, trying to understand what Moses’s place could be in Memphis, but perhaps more selfishly, what his place could be in his life.

Chapter Text

Moses awoke slowly, the light already full and golden behind the curtains. The air was warm, still, and far too quiet for a palace already teeming with life.

He blinked up at the ceiling, body heavy with exhaustion but mind unwilling to rest. He had not dreamed like he had of recent - not vividly at least - but his sleep had felt shallow, filled with flickers of motion and soft echoes of Ramses’s voice, of pain and need.

He sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. A soft knock sounded at the door, followed by the creak of it opening.

A servant entered, bowed silently, and placed a tray of food on the table. He met Moses’s eyes just briefly - something new and knowing flickering in the look.

He couldn’t place what it was.

The servant bowed again and quickly stepped out without a word, leaving Moses slightly perplexed.

He ate a meal of honeyed bread and dried fruit before setting out from his chambers moments later, determined to find some peace in his day.

He made his way through the sun-dappled halls toward the royal stables, one of few places that didn’t feel heavy with expectation and the torment of slaves.

His horses stirred when he entered, one of them snorting softly in recognition, and Moses smiled for the first time in a while.

He approached one of his chestnut mares. He was told she was initially quite stubborn, but after years of training, was finally presented to him as a gift from visiting nobles. Ramses, of course, was given the stallion they had brought with them.

Moses stroked her neck gently, the beast nuzzling into his palm, and he traced the curve of her shoulder, distracted.

He was thinking about him again - Ramses.

Not as the Prince Regent or future Pharaoh, but the brother he used to dare into diving off the palace docks. Who he stole sweets from the kitchens for when he was trapped in his studies - who laughed louder when Moses laughed with him. 

The man who tackled him to the ground with too much force yesterday - and then held him with those same arms so tenderly last night.

Moses swallowed hard.

He could still feel Ramses’s weight atop him as he was pushed into the sand - the heat of his body crashing against his own. The hands that gripped his shoulders... and later, the same hands gently curling around his back with aching reverence.

He remembered the way his voice had wavered when he said, “I don’t have to pretend anymore.”

Moses looked down at his own hands, now resting on the horse’s flank. His turquoise ring shimmered, a silent reminder of the weight between them. Their promises as young, naive princes to always be together, and now, Ramses’s confession.

It had always been simple before. Moses would tease, Ramses would chase… They would fight, then laugh, then race across the desert like they were untouchable.

Moses exhaled through his nose and returned his hands to his sides.

He decided to put his thoughts away for now and mount up. He would feel the breeze on his face and the wind-whipped sand pepper his skin.

It would be the peace he needed to think things through. The palace was loud and bustling, but the desert was a void.

Moses urged his steed forward, the city quickly fading behind him, swallowed by golden dunes and heat-hazed distance. 

The warmth wrapped around him like a familiar cloak, seeping into his skin until the pulse of the earth beneath him felt like an extension of his own heartbeat.

Memphis was far now, barely a speck on the horizon.

Moses reined his horse in gently, letting her trot to a stop atop a high dune. 

The wind tugged gently at the red scarab necklace around his neck, and he sat in the saddle staring out into waves of sand - untouched, infinite, unbound.

Could I even survive if I had left?

He imagined walking into the vastness, leaving behind names and gold and his station and security. He had knowledge of many things, but would he be prepared to live that life? Would he be free to choose his own fate, or would he simply be lost - dooming himself to wander the desert until starvation and lack of water claimed him.

He was so caught in the stillness of it all that he didn’t hear the second horse until it was nearly upon him.

Moses turned to the sound of pounding hooves and took in the sight of a large, black stallion cresting the hill behind him, its rider guiding it with practiced urgency.

Even with his sidelock blowing wildly about and his half-fastened robe coming undone by the wind, he still carried the air of a man raised to be king.

“Moses!” Ramses called out as he pulled hard on the reins, abruptly stopping only paces away. He dismounted swiftly and ran to him across the sand, breathless. “By the gods- I thought -!”

He reached the mare and placed a hand on her side, as if the motion would keep the horse from running if told.

“I heard you took a horse from the stables,” Ramses said quickly, voice taut. “I was thinking about last night and-” He faltered, jaw tightening. “I was worried you had left . ”

Moses blinked, startled by the vulnerability in his voice, and slowly dismounted.

“I’m sorry.” he said as his feet landed firmly on the sand. “I just needed to find somewhere to clear my head. I didn’t mean to cause concern.”

Ramses stared at him for a heartbeat longer, searching his face, as if trying to determine whether he was telling the truth.

Then, without a word, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Moses, pulling him close.

It wasn’t a fierce or desperate grip this time.

It was one of relief - of reunion.

Moses stood still for a moment, caught between surprise and the uncertainty of this new development nagging at the back of his mind. 

But the warmth of Ramses’s body on his coaxed him, and his hands slowly rose until they rested against Ramses’s sides.

“I said I wouldn’t leave,” he murmured.

“I know,” Ramses said, voice muffled against his shoulder. “But… I was worried you changed your mind.”

The wind passed gently across the dunes, whispering through the silence between them. Ramses’s arms were still around Moses, steadfast and sure - and Moses couldn’t pull away, he didn’t even want to.

“Ramses,” he said softly. “When you told me you'd do anything to keep me with you… did you mean it?”

“I did,” he replied without hesitation. “I meant it with everything I am.”

Moses could hear the conviction in his voice. He wanted it to be true, but the silent request he was making of Ramses was almost impossible.

“I know I haven’t always seen the world the way you do,” Ramses continued. “But I’m trying to understand, Moses. And something’s already changing in me.”

Moses furrowed his brow slightly. “What do you mean?”

Ramses took a slow breath. His hands loosened their hold only to slide to Moses’s shoulders  - still close and grounded.

“I had… a dream,” he said, voice low and tentative.

“What dream, Ramses?” Moses asked.

He glanced away as though the memory pained him.

“You were… a slave.”

Moses’s eyes widened.

“I watched on as you were beaten, left chained and bloody, and made to bow before me. You looked at me and begged… Your eyes -”  his voice caught.

Moses stilled, caught off guard by the sheer grief expressed by his words.

“When I woke it - it was like I was drowning.” His hands curled slightly on Moses’s arms.

“I went to the Temple site, and every face I saw just reflected that horrible nightmare back to me.” Ramses shook his head and swallowed hard. “I don’t understand it all yet - all these changes in you - but… I think I know why you want it to end.”

Moses looked down at the sand and let the words settle in him. 

They weren’t spoken only to tether Moses to Ramses. He was visibly shaken, sharing an honest, deep-seated fear. Moses could hear it in his voice, in the way his hands held him like something precious, in the way his heart beat rapidly against his chest as he recounted the nightmare.

It wasn’t a performance - Ramses spoke the truth - he was changing. 

Moses took a short step back to see Ramses clearly, not fully removing himself from the older prince’s grasp.

In his eyes, Ramses had never seemed like anything more than his brother and friend, but the man he looked at now was neither.

Moses was drawn to him - his stature, his confidence, and even his vulnerability beckoning him closer. Only one thing was now certain in Moses’s mind.

“I want to stay with you, Ramses.” Moses whispered. “I believe you mean what you said, and I… think I might be changing too.”

Ramses’s heart thumped.

Moses looked to the horizon, pensive, and continued. “I’ve thought about many things, and the only certainty I’ve decided amidst all of this chaos is that there can be no life beyond the city if you are not in it.”

Ramses didn’t speak.

He wrapped his arms around Moses again - tighter this time - and he buried his face in the crook of his neck.

He exhaled, his breath warm as it radiated across Moses’s skin.

And then, he felt the soft, reverent press of lips just above his collarbone.

Moses’s breath caught.

His eyes fluttered shut as he fell into the sensation, and his hands came up instinctively to press against Ramses’s chest - but he didn’t push him away.

Moses was uncertain of what to do, but his curiosity over this new bond between them was only piqued further as Ramses trailed gentle, barely detectable kisses up his neck and to his ear.

Moses moaned slightly at the feeling and shifted, earning a short, deep chuckle from Ramses that echoed in his ear.

“You’re pushing your luck.” Moses whispered.

“So you’re saying there’s luck to be pushed?” Ramses retorted breathily.

Moses pushed against him gently, and Ramses relented.

He wore a familiar, prideful smirk, as if he had just won some sort of game. Moses rolled his  eyes dramatically and looked away, nothing more needing to be said.

Chapter Text

Moses and Ramses stood in silence for a moment.

Then, quietly, Moses asked, “So… what do we do now?”

“For now?” Ramses glanced around them at the endless stretch of dunes. “We return to the palace.”

Moses raised a brow.

“I told Father you were resting from heat sickness today.” Ramses said. “If you’re out here all afternoon riding across the desert like some Midian wanderer, it’ll be harder to sell that story.”

Moses chuckled, the light, genuine sound catching even him off guard.

Ramses grinned.

Moses shook his head, embarrassed that such a simple thing could make the Prince Regent so happy. He couldn’t understand it.

Moses moved toward his horse and mounted in a smooth motion, reins loose in his hands.

Ramses followed suit, pulling himself up onto his stallion. 

The two horses sidled together, until Moses gave his mare a subtle nudge forward - just a pace ahead.

Ramses narrowed his eyes. “Oh no, not this again.”

He spurred his stallion forward to match, but Moses’s horse bolted forth, quickly putting distance between the two.

Ramses smirked to himself. “Always the troublemaker.”

The desert air was filled with the pounding of hooves and the bright echoes of playful banter as the two princes raced across the sand - sunlight on their backs, wind brushing across their skin, and something unspoken catching between their smiles.

The horses galloped through the outer gate, hooves kicking up dust as the palace walls came into view. Ramses and Moses both slowed, their steeds snorting and stamping as they came to a halt before the stables.

“I clearly won,” Ramses declared as he dismounted, brushing sand from his robe with an exaggerated flick.

“I heartily disagree,” Moses replied, swinging down from his mare.

“You can deny it all you want, Moses.” Ramses replied. “But it won’t change the truth.”

Moses handed his reins to a stable boy absent mindedly, the words ringing deeper in him than intended.

Ramses noticed the drop of his eyes and as they stepped into the marble entryway of the palace. He wanted to reach out for him, and began to do so until he saw Pharaoh Seti emerging from an interior corridor, flanked by two royal guards.

Moses and Ramses straightened.

“Ah,” Seti said, his tone formal but not unkind. “You return.”

Ramses felt for a moment as if he’d been caught doing something unscrupulous, and a tension tightened in his chest.

“Moses,” the Pharaoh continued, walking forward. “I trust you’ve recovered?”

Moses’s  thoughts leapt unbidden to the Temple, the slaves, the guard’s whip… his own rage. He lowered his eyes slightly and nodded.

“Yes, Father. I have.”

Seti studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Very well. I trust you will remember to carry yourself with strength and dignity going forward. Especially when among those who depend on your guidance.”

Moses nodded again, the words weighing heavily on his mind.

He hadn’t seen Seti since the night the truth of his origin had been spoken aloud. He hadn’t forgotten the moment, and his words echoed aloud in his mind. 

“Oh Moses, they were only slaves.”

Moses found it hard to meet his eyes now. He had been raised to respect this man - and he had - but knowing the terrible act he committed unbalanced him, and Seti seemed to notice.

The Pharaoh’s gaze softened - just faintly. Even with the changes between them, he still saw Moses as his son and wanted to give him time to adjust. It didn’t occur to him that there was a possibility Moses wouldn’t return to being the same as he was before. 

He looked on to Ramses who stood with his full attention on his father. It pleased him to see his son so attentive.

“You both have duties this evening,” he said. “The harvest celebration. It will be a formal thanks to the gods for the bounty of this season. The people will expect to see their princes leading the prayers.”

“Of course, Father.” Ramses said. “We were just on our way to prepare.”

“Good.” Seti replied. “The people need to see a united royal family. Let them give thanks with confidence in their rulers.”

“Yes, Father.” Ramses leaned his head forward slightly and Moses mimicked the action.

Seti nodded and turned, walking down the corridor without another word.

The two princes stood in silence until the sound of his footsteps faded.

Moses slowly raised his head, though the somber look in his eyes did not leave him.

“The harvest celebration…” He said slowly, the two beginning to walk towards their quarters.

“I had completely forgotten,” Ramses admitted with a groan. “We’re supposed to be grateful for grain and olives while dressed like golden statues.”

He chuckled to himself, but the sound faded when he turned to look at Moses.

His expression was subdued - shoulders drawn in, gaze distant, steps more deliberate. He wasn’t looking at Ramses anymore. He wasn’t really looking at anything.

Ramses frowned, slowing his pace to match.

“What’s wrong?” he asked gently.

Moses blinked, as if just pulled back from some far place.

He gave a small shake of his head and straightened. “Nothing.”

Ramses eyed him, pressing.

“I just haven’t seen him in a while.” Moses finally added, quieter now. “Not since… Well…”

Ramses nodded slowly. “He didn’t bring it up.”

“He didn’t.” Moses agreed.

They walked a few more steps in silence, then Moses glanced at him and offered a faint, almost apologetic smile. “Sorry. There’s a lot on my mind right now.”

“I understand.” Ramses said softly, his voice edged with comfort and affection. 

They didn’t speak as they continued through the palace halls, but Moses felt calmer from Ramses’s presence, even as his thoughts beat relentlessly against his head.

Chapter Text

Moses had taken it upon himself to begin burning incense as soon as he arrived in his room. He had never done it himself outside of ceremony, and he felt somewhat awkward when his attendants walked in and were confused to be met with the scent of calming lotus and myrrh.

He had hoped it would help to ease his nerves, but unfortunately, it did little to help him release his tensions.

Moses stood still with arms outstretched as servants fastened an ornate linen robe across his chest. The ceremonial clothing was a soft ivory, trimmed with colorful thread and beads. Bracelets of hammered bronze slid onto his wrists, and a wide collar of polished turquoise and carnelian settled around his neck with practiced ease.

One of the servants carefully adjusted his sash while another brushed down the shoulders of his robe. They moved efficiently, respectfully, with just a touch more deference than before. He caught their sidelong glances and registered them as curiosity.

So, word had spread, then.

Moses thought about his argument with Ramses at the temple site and the content of their recent conversations. The palace was a place of whispers - it was only a matter of time before everyone knew the truth about him. 

Perhaps this slight shift in their unspoken relationship was because the servants now knew he was born of the same people. That fact added with his actions on the scaffolding the other day could have given them a sliver of hope that things could change.

Moses swallowed at the enormity of it, and the weight of his clothes pressed in on him, heavier than before.

The procession began almost as soon as he had arrived.

Moses stood beside Ramses at the top of the ceremonial steps, facing a great altar where a clay effigy of Osiris had been placed beside baskets of grain, dates, and dried fish - offerings from the royal family to the gods in gratitude for the harvest.

Before them stood Pharaoh Seti and Queen Tuya, resplendent in their ceremonial regalia, watching with the calm dignity of those born to be worshipped.

Moses moved in sync with Ramses, the ritual words flowing from memory.

They poured water over the offerings, raised their hands in unison to the sky, and spoke the required prayers.

The crowd of nobles followed every beat and bowed their heads until finally the ceremony faded into celebration.

Moses was relieved his part in the ceremony was over. He still had to play his role as a prince, however, though he had never felt so uncertain in his life.

He straightened his spine and kept his expression serene as he moved among the nobility. He joked, answering polite questions, and offered quiet commentary, drinking from a shallow goblet of wine that was never allowed to empty.

He did everything expected of him, though his eyes kept drifting to the raised dais where Seti and Tuya sat, overseeing the festivities like gods in human form.

He also often glanced at Ramses who laughed and gestured animatedly, golden and adored, surrounded by ministers and officials who were always eager to please him.

He made it look easy to be the Prince Regent. How he stood, and smiled, and how he never failed to win others over - if not with his rakish charm, then his status. 

Moses looked to the edge of the courtyard where servants rushed about with platters of roasted lamb and spiced fruit, careful not to be noticed.

A sudden motion caught his eye and he turned, squinting to see a young servant who had spilled a jug of wine at the edge of the gathering. 

Before he could even kneel to clean it, a senior attendant struck him hard across the face, knocking him back.

Moses was too far to hear the words that followed, but he frowned as the music continued.

His jaw was tight as he observed, hand firmly clenched around his goblet while the words of the general in front of him recounting a recent run in with desert marauders faded into the background.

He couldn’t intervene, and the inaction burned in him like poison.

Moses took a sip from his goblet, the sweet, heady wine tingling his taste buds.

He let it dull the edges of his thoughts as the celebration reached its crescendo.

Laughter echoed across the temple walls as musicians played more boldly, and dancers moved among the nobles like swirling fabric come to life.

Moses stood near the balustrade, one arm leaning against the cool stone railing while his other busied itself with more wine.

The sipping had morphed to gulping now, and the flush of alcohol colored his cheeks faintly.

“ There you are. ”

Moses turned to see Ramses, weaving past a cluster of nobles and making his way toward him with a half-finished drink in hand and a perfectly content smile.

He looked warm with drink - relaxed and just unsteady enough in his step that Moses knew he wasn’t fully aware of the depth he himself had sunk into.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Ramses said, voice low and pleased as he came to Moses’s side. “I thought you may have slipped away without telling me.”

Moses gave a slow smile, tired around the eyes. “I’m surprised you noticed.”

“I notice everything about you,” Ramses replied, a little too honestly, before taking another sip of his wine.

Moses looked away quickly.

Ramses didn’t acknowledge his distant attitude as he leaned against the balustrade beside him, their shoulders nearly touching.

“You aren’t enjoying yourself?” Ramses prodded.

Moses let out a short breath - too brief to be laughter, too bitter to be amusement. “I’m afraid I'm not in the right state of mind.”

Ramses took a sip from his goblet, and Moses downed the last of his drink.

“The crowd is beginning to thin.” Ramses stated. “I believe father would give us permission to leave if we asked.”

Moses felt a new, drunken thought invade the back of his mind, the warmth budding in his chest no longer only the result of drink.

He turned his head opposite from Ramses and coughed, as if expelling the thought from his mind.

“I suppose I’ve had enough wine for the evening.” Moses responded. “And certainly more than enough smiling.”

“Then I'll escort you.” Ramses said, straightening and offering his arm with a small grin. “We can't have an inebriated prince stumbling about the Harvest Celebration.”

Moses snorted lightly. “You’re one to talk.”

Ramses just smiled as he led Moses to the royal dais where Pharaoh Seti and Queen Tuya still presided, eyes following them even through the haze of incense and celebration.

Ramses bowed lightly before them, Moses struggling to do the same while leaning on his arm.

“Father,” Ramses said smoothly, “Moses has indulged a little more than usual. With your permission, I’ll escort him to his chambers and retire for the evening afterward.”

Seti waved a hand dismissively. “Very well. The celebration is nearly ended.”

“Thank you, Father.” Ramses bowed again, Moses falling into the motion along with him.

Queen Tuya eyed the both of them, her gaze searching, but without scrutinization.

“Take care of your brother, Ramses.” She said finally, and Ramses nodded before stepping away, the two disappearing into the torch-lit halls of the palace while the music faded behind them.

Chapter Text

The door closed with a soft click behind them as Ramses led Moses into his room.

Moses didn’t wait for ceremony as he shrugged off his ornate collar and let it fall with a muted clatter onto the nearest table. His sandals followed, unfastened clumsily as he made his way to the edge of his bed, where he sat with a heavy sigh.

Ramses lingered by the door, watching him.

The stress Moses carried was fully visible now. His shoulders drooped, and his expression - now free from the eyes of the court - fell into open exhaustion.

Ramses crossed the room, the effects of wine evident in the slight sway of his gait. He sat beside Moses, close enough for their knees to brush.

“You seem upset. I thought you were just drinking to relax.” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“In a way, I was.” Moses said, “But also, maybe to forget.”

Ramses was silent as he tentatively reached out, brushing his fingers along Moses’s arm.

“Is there some way I can help?” He asked, his voice lower now.

Moses didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he let his thoughts linger to the sensation of Ramses’s warmth caressing him, pulling him in much like the bouquet of the sweet wine he had indulged all evening.

Ramses leaned in slowly until his forehead rested against Moses’s. 

“I just want to take it from you,” he murmured, “this weight you carry.”

His hand moved from their place on his arm and trailed upwards to his jaw, then down Moses’s neck, tracing every outline of his body, each movement slower than before, more purposeful.

Moses inhaled softly. “What are you doing?”

Ramses smiled, intoxicated and honest.

“Pushing my luck.”

Moses let out a breath and closed his eyes, the world narrowing to only the sensation of the older prince’s presence and touch.

Ramses moved in cautiously, reverently placing his lips on Moses’s neck, carefully following the line his fingers had gone.

His hands moved with a gentle boldness, rough fingers slipping beneath Moses’s linen robe, exploring the warmth of the bare skin beneath.

Moses’s breath caught in his throat, his muscles tensing from the anticipation rising in him.

His hand rose, nervous but certain in intent, coming to rest at Ramses’s back. His fingers curled into the fabric of the older prince’s robe, silently giving permission, and simultaneously asking for more.

Ramses responded to the cue urgently and shifted, guiding Moses back onto the cushions.

Their mouths found each other - Ramses’s passionate kisses deep with hunger, and Moses’s with a slowly growing eagerness that surprised him. 

Ramses caressed the back of his head and pulled him closer, their breath and bodies now fully intertwined. Each kiss was slow and deep, as if Ramses was trying to memorize the very shape and feeling of Moses’s soul on his.

Moses’s robe slipped from his shoulder, baring more of him to Ramses’s hands. 

The Prince Regent ran his fingers across Moses’s taught chest, slowly drifting lower until he reached Moses’s waist.

He ran a finger along the tied knot of his shendyt, and Moses moaned softly, causing Ramses to smirk, pleased and excited by the reaction.

He leaned into the younger prince’s neck.“Can I take that as permission?” He asked, voice dripping with want.

Moses met his gaze breathlessly, and Ramses’s heart throbbed as he took in the glassy, longing look in his eyes.

Ramses pressed his lips against Moses’s once again, who met him impatiently with his own.

He felt the last bit of his restraint crumble beneath him, and the rhythm of their movements began to shift - what once was tentative exploration, now a desperate, aching need that threatened to consume them both.

Ramses carefully undid the tie of Moses’s clothes, followed quickly by his own.

His muscles flexed as he moved his hands along Moses’s body and absorbed the feeling of his skin like scripture until finally grasping his thighs and revealing to himself the sight of Moses’s shared pleasure.

Ramses’s thoughts were consumed by lust at the subtle noise Moses made as his body was exposed. He shivered beneath him, hips shifting upward, desire building fast and unfamiliar in his veins. 

They had never known this kind of intimacy with another - not this intimacy of pure passion and aching need - but it enveloped them like a thick, ethereal force which neither of the princes cared to escape.

The room blurred around them as the heat of their bodies, the tangle of limbs, and the sound of stifled moans filled the space between breaths.

Ramses began carefully in his movement, watching Moses for any sign of discomfort. 

He bared his weight down and into him slowly, Moses taking every bit of his member inside him with nervous tension.

“You can relax, Moses.” Ramses whispered, leaning forward slightly, planting gentle kisses on his chest.

Moses took a breath and loosened his muscles, settling into the cushions below him.

Ramses pushed deeper, almost unable to breathe at the sensation of Moses’s entrance gripping him so tightly.

“Ah… Moses…” He grunted, completely consumed by the feeling.

Moses shut his eyes tightly and reached out to grasp his shoulders, steadying himself against Ramses as he worked into a steady rhythm.

Their bodies pressed against each other, Ramses’s muscled arms wrapped tightly around Moses’s waist, pulling him closer and closer as their pleasure built to climax. 

“R-ramses…” Moses huffed his name breathlessly as the feeling of fullness in his body overwhelmed him.

It was the very thing that pushed Ramses over the edge, the pair finally crossing the point of no return.

Chapter Text

The chamber was wrapped in silence, save for the gentle rustle of linen and the faint song of birds just outside the window.

Ramses stirred first.

The warmth of the bed still clung to his skin, and so did the memory of Moses beneath him - their bodies pressed close. He could still feel that moment when the barriers between them finally crumpled.

A slow, private smile crept across his face as he turned over.

Moses lay beside him, half tangled in the bedsheets. The morning sun cast a faint glow onto the line of his back and his tousled hair.

Ramses reached out, fingers traced down to Moses’s shoulder, then lingered there, gently kneading.

“Moses,” he whispered. “Wake up.”

A quiet groan was the only response.

Ramses chuckled lightly at his disgruntled lover and leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on his shoulder.

Moses shifted slightly but didn’t open his eyes. “Already?” He mumbled.

“It’s morning,” Ramses said, voice low and fond. “As much as I’d love to stay here with you, I'm afraid our presence will be missed.”

Another muffled sound passed his lips as he turned, then finally, Moses’s eyes opened, blinking at the light. “You mean your presence.” Moses quipped lightly. 

“I mean our .” Ramses continued, fondly stroking the line of Moses’s jaw.

Through the haze of sleep, Moses started into the Prince Regent’s eyes. Not a thought came to his mind in the moment, just feelings of calm and security. 

A beat of eternity passed between them before heavy reality settled in Moses’s consciousness.

He pulled his gaze away from Ramses and cast it to the side, the tension in his features returning like a familiar ache.

Ramses’s smile faltered.

“What’s wrong?” Ramses cupped Moses’s cheek, silently asking to meet his eyes. 

Moses pulled away gently and exhaled, rubbing his hands over his face. “What did we do…”

Ramses frowned. “We didn’t do anything we didn’t both want.”

Moses sat up slowly, the soft white sheets falling to bare his chest to the morning light. 

“That’s…” Moses sighed and leaned his elbows onto his knees. He gripped his hair with his hands and held as if fighting off an agonizing headache. “I know that, Ramses. But that isn’t the problem.”

“Then what is ?”

Moses looked toward the window - beyond it, the city was bustling and he did not hear the birds as Ramses did. It was the sound of laborers who had long since begun their daily toil which reached his ears.

“I forgot about it,” he murmured. “I stopped thinking about all of it. The whips and their cries…” Moses shook his head. “And while they suffered, I was here - wrapped in your arms.”

Ramses straightened, sitting up as well. “You needed a moment of peace. That’s not a crime.”

“So do they , Ramses! But they don’t get peace, and neither should I!” Moses snapped and he sighed again, swallowing the bile that began to creep up into his throat. “I shouldn’t be doing this… Not when I know what’s happening just outside the door.”

Ramses’s jaw tightened. “Punishing yourself and feeling guilty won’t save them, Moses. There’s only so much you can do as you are.”

“I know that,” Moses replied. “I just - can’t ignore it. Not even for you.”

A beat of heavy silence hung between them.

Ramses’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “You think I’m ignoring it?”

Moses didn’t answer.

Ramses stood slowly, retrieving his shendyt from where it had fallen the night before.

He pulled it on with sharp, practiced movements, not looking at Moses.

“I want to help you, Moses. But change doesn’t happen in a day,” he said flatly. “We’d be lucky to see anything significant over the course of our life.”

He hadn’t intended the words to seem cruel, but Moses stared at him as if physically struck.

Ramses paused, his hands still at his sash. “Moses…” He began quickly, attempting to recover from the statement. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -”

“I understand.” Moses cut in. “Thank you for your company, Ramses. I’m sure I'll see you again soon.”

Ramses didn’t like the formal dismissal, and for anyone besides his Father, he would usually not allow it to stand. But for Moses, the one he loved more than Egypt itself, he felt a slight deference. 

Ramses finished tying off his shendyt and turned towards the door.

“Fine. I’ll leave you to your conscience,” he said quietly, and swiftly exited the room.

The door closed behind him with a soft, hollow thud.

Moses remained where he sat, eyes clenched tight and heart full of heavy emotion, his fingers tangled in his hair.

“Gods help me.” He whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”

Chapter Text

The soft click of the door echoed behind him louder than it had any right to.

Ramses stood still in the hallway, his hand resting on the handle. He felt as though something inside him had just been closed off as well - cold, and final.

The marble corridor stretched before him, pale and polished, but the sunlight that reflected off it seemed duller than it had in Moses’s chambers.

Ramses drew in a slow breath and let it out carefully, trying to center himself.

He’d said the wrong thing.

Only hours ago, Moses was in his arms. He felt his warmth pressed against his bronzed skin, and finally everything felt whole. It was something Ramses had never experienced with anyone before, and he longed to have it back.

But now he was standing outside the younger prince’s room like a dismissed courtier, his words still echoing in his mind.

"I shouldn't be doing this... Not when I know what's happening just outside the door… Not even for you."

Ramses ran a tense hand across his head and started walking, his pace slow and deliberate.

He’d grown up believing there was always an answer. That with enough power and decisiveness, one could shape the world to their will. But the challenge Moses posed was great, and suddenly power alone didn’t seem to be a solution to his pain.

Ramses’s steps eventually brought him to the eastern balcony overlooking the temple grounds. From here, he could see the outer walls of the Luxor Temple reconstruction site, the sun already high over the bustling labor yards.

Even from this distance, he could make out the small, slow-moving figures under the harsh sun. He imagined Moses watching the same view, seeing only the pain and injustice of it all.

Ramses clenched his jaw.

Before now, he had never questioned the way things were. Why would he? Egypt is the divine order, and the kingdom doesn’t run on dreams and feelings - it runs on discipline, labor, and law.

But now…

Now he could only think of the Moses in his nightmares - beaten, humiliated, and emotionally gone. 

It felt that with every passing day since learning he was born of a slave, Moses’s cheerful demeanor was fleeting. 

Every moment that they used to playfully quip and tease was slowly being replaced with one where Moses would turn away from his touch out of despair.

He hadn’t intended to be cruel when he told Moses that change would be difficult. It was the truth - Egypt is not such an easy thing to mold, especially since he’s not yet Pharoah. He didn’t intend Moses to believe he meant the difficulty would keep him from trying.

I promised I would do anything for his sake. Ramses thought. I don’t intend to break that promise.

The Prince Regent straightened slightly as he heard a tentative step behind him. 

“Not now,” he said dismissively.

The approaching guard paused, bowed, and quietly stepped away.

Ramses gripped the edge of the balcony. The stone was cool against his palms.

Was he being selfish? For wanting to hold onto what they had even if the world outside hadn’t changed?

He supposed it was. But he was in love, and love can make you do selfish things.

Ramses took a breath in.

No… I have to be greater than that. He thought.

The Prince Regent closed his eyes and let thoughts of Moses cross his mind like a warm wind passing over the desert sands.

The memory of his smile and his laughter brought him peace, and the vivid image of how tenderly he held his brother in his arms filled his heart with longing.

No, changing Egypt would not happen overnight, but the seeds of change had to be sown soon. If not because of its rightness, then only so that Ramses could feel the warmth of that body against his own again.

His resolve would not falter - he would have an audience with his Father about the slaves, and he would do it now.

Chapter Text

The throne room felt stifling to Ramses as he entered, the heat of the morning sun summoning two women with large, feathered fans on either side of his Father who sat high on his alabaster throne.

Incense drifted lazily in the air, perfuming the space with rich myrrh and cedar. Courtiers stood at attention along the walls, murmuring in low voices that fell silent in bows as the Prince Regent passed.

Seti looked at his son expectantly, the crook and flail resting on his lap, humming with command.

Ramses approached with measured calm, bowing deeply at the foot of the dais.

"Rise, my son," Seti said, his voice as firm and polished as the stone beneath them. "It pleases me to see you at this hour. So few young men seek to begin the day in counsel."

Ramses straightened, hands folded behind his back in practiced composure. “Thank you, Father. I hoped to speak with you before the day’s duties fully began.”

Seti inclined his head. “Speak then.”

Ramses hesitated only a breath. “I have been reflecting on the current state of our labor force - specifically, those who serve in the construction yards and fields.”

Seti arched a brow, mildly intrigued. “The slaves?”

“Yes.” Ramses nodded. “They are numerous, and yet we rarely speak of them outside disciplinary reports or resource allocations. But I’ve begun to wonder if… more might be done to maintain their output. To preserve their endurance.”

A subtle shift passed over Seti’s features - interest mingled with scrutiny.

“It does not become you to think of them, Ramses. They are but tools,” the Pharaoh said easily.

Ramses felt the smallest prick of upset as he thought of how Moses would feel if he heard those words, but he knew he could not betray his intentions.

“I understand, Father. But tools must be kept in serviceable condition, yes?”

“Hmph.” The Pharoah chuffed lightly, a touch of indignance and amusement in the sound. “Go on.”

Ramses clasped his hands tighter behind his back, simultaneously relieved and intimidated by being allowed to continue speaking this far. 

“During the reconstruction of Luxor Temple, I’ve observed overexertion, untreated injuries and malnourishment. All of these have or will lead to delays, damage to work structures, or even loss of life that must then be replaced with fresh stock.”

He paused, choosing his next words with care.

“If we were to… implement a few small measures to preserve their strength - perhaps additional water during the hottest hours, or a brief reprieve for those working under the heaviest loads - it could lead to increased efficiency. Healthier laborers produce more consistent results.”

Seti regarded him for a long moment, tapping the arm of the throne once with his index finger.

“You would have us coddle them.”

Coddle? Ramses struggled to keep his tone even. “I would have us protect the empire’s investments, Father. These workers uphold the very monuments to our greatness. To allow them to deteriorate unchecked is to undermine our legacy.”

Seti tilted his head thoughtfully, his expression unreadable. “An interesting argument. And not entirely without merit.”

Thankful that the Pharoah’s value of the dynasty swayed him to listen further, Ramses let the lightest sigh pass between his lips. He was not finished, however, and needed to take this opportunity to press the issue.

“It would cost little to provide.” He continued. “A few barrels more of water - the simplest grain rations. Even rotating them in and out of the sun would do to improve longevity.”

Seti exhaled through his nose, contemplative. “Your concern is… novel.” He stated. “But you speak as befitting of a future ruler. This pleases me.”

Ramses bowed his head slightly. “Thank you, Father. I wish to one day be a ruler who serves the Gods and the throne with the wisdom and foresight of my predecessors."

“Though your demeanor brings me pride, Ramses, I would rather you focus on military readiness, or temple diplomacy,” Seti said with a faint edge.

The Prince Regent stiffened for a moment, bracing for the rejection that was sure to come. 

The Pharoah took a breath.“But… if this is where your attentions are drawn, I suppose it is not entirely wasteful.”

Ramses’s ears pricked as his Father tapped the throne again. 

“Very well. You may begin with one of these adjustments. Have the overseers implement a midday watering for the laborers working on the Luxor Temple’s east side.”

Ramses blinked. He hadn’t expected a concession so easily. His heart leapt for a moment at the victory, but Seti’s tone made clear this was to be a test - not a surrender.

“Thank you, Father. I’ll see it done at once.”

Seti’s gaze sharpened. “Do not let this… humanitarian impulse make you soft, Ramses. The Pharaoh must command respect and awe, not affection.”

“I understand,” Ramses said, swallowing the dryness in his throat.

“You walk a careful line,” Seti continued, rising slowly from the throne, the gold on his robes shimmering in the light. “You must remember, if you give too much to those beneath you… they begin to forget their place.”

Ramses bowed again, deeper this time. “I will remember, Father.”

Seti studied him for a moment longer, then nodded and turned to confer with a nearby scribe.

Ramses remained still until he was dismissed, then turned and exited with graceful precision. His heart pounded beneath his ribs, but he kept his face composed.

It wasn’t much - just water - a token gesture.

But it was enough to prove to Moses that his promise was more than empty words.

As the footsteps of the Prince Regent grew further away from the Throne room, Pharoah Seti summoned two high priests to his side.

“Hotep, Huy.”

A tall, lanky man in white robes appeared at the Pharoah’s side followed by a squat, round one.

“How can we serve you, my lord?” The two said in unison, prostrating themselves deeply before their king.

“I would like you to watch over my sons. Discreetly, if possible.”

“Of course, your eminence. May I inquire as to if there is something specific we should be watching for?” The shorter one asked.

The Pharoah thought for a moment before eyeing the archway through which Ramses had passed only moments ago.

“Actions or words that in time could threaten the balance of our dynasty.”

Chapter Text

It was a long time after Ramses departed before Moses finally left his room.

After a light breakfast of bread and dried dates, Moses entered the halls and began to walk. He wanted space away from his chambers where the mess of guilt and warmth of his and Ramses’s shared night still held.

He wandered towards the palace gardens. They were quiet at this hour, shaded by the tall palms around its edges and cool from the fountain at its center. 

Moses found himself seated on a stone bench beside the lotus pool, eyes fixed on the way the lilies floated weightlessly across the surface.

He wanted to be calmed by it, but there were more pressing issues at hand than his inner peace.

Moses slid the dark black wig from his head and ran a hand through his natural auburn curls, still tangled from sleep. 

His body ached faintly from the intimate moments he shared with Ramses the night before.

Longing, embarrassment, and guilt flashed through his mind in an instant. It was almost too much for one person to bear.

Moses placed a hand on the base of his spine and stretched, the sensation of pain quickly followed by a crack of relief.

As his muscles groaned beneath his skin, the familiar rustle of fine silk stirred behind him.

Moses turned instinctively to see Queen Tuya standing alone, her servants likely dismissed the moment she spotted the young prince.

“Hello Moses. I didn’t expect to see you so soon after the Harvest Ceremony,” she said, not unkindly.

He stood at once and bowed his head towards the Queen.

“Oh please,” she chided softly, motioning for him to sit again. “I know you have been through much lately, Moses, but to my children I wish to be more your Mother than your Queen.”

Moses nodded slightly and sat again.

Tuya sat beside him, her presence grounding. For a while, they simply watched the lilies in silence.

“Your brother,” she began at last, and Moses stiffened. “I heard he had a council with Pharoah this morning. It ended when Ramses was granted permission to allow the laborers at Luxor Temple midday water and rest. A small gesture, but unexpected. Your influence, I assume?”

Moses’s eyes widened slightly. “I… didn’t specifically ask that of him.” Moses replied, shaking his head. “I only spoke to him from the heart - and it seems he listened.”

Tuya smiled gently. “Of course he did.” Her affectionate voice softened as she intonated. “He always does, where you’re concerned.”

Moses settled on the words. It was true - more often than not, Ramses would do as Moses bade, even if in the past it led to disastrous results. 

Would this time be the same?

The hot sun beat on his back as he contemplated, staring now at the long shadows which cast across the garden’s patterned tiles.

The Queen sighed. “Ramses has always been drawn to you - even as a boy, he would give in to your will without thinking of the consequences.” Tuya shifted and angled her knees towards her son before speaking again.

“He cares deeply for you, Moses.” She stated. “Do you care for him the same?” 

Moses stirred and eyed the Queen cautiously. He knew from her tone that she was alluding to a much deeper connection between them - one that he had hoped would stay hidden for some time.

“How do you…?”

Tuya raised a hand. “Moses, I know my sons. The way Ramses so tenderly led you from the celebration last night may have escaped your father’s scrutinizing gaze, but not mine. After he left your chambers this morning, I’d imagine my assumptions about your changing bonds are correct.”

Moses clenched his jaw. He felt exposed, unsure of what the next best course of action was. 

“Last night… It - it was only for a moment.” He replied.

“Moments can be powerful,” Tuya said definitively. “And dangerous.”

Moses glanced sideways at her. “Is this a warning?”

The Queen closed her eyes. “I wish it wasn’t, my son.”

Moses lowered his gaze. “Thank you, Mother, but there’s really nothing to worry about.”

Tuya lifted an eyebrow.

“Last night I was feeling unwell and Ramses escorted me back to my chambers. That’s really all there was.” Moses paused for a moment before quietly, solemnly adding, “It won’t happen again.”

The Queen sighed. “Moses, please don’t misunderstand. I wish happiness for both of my sons. But your safety is more important than the smiles you share.”

She placed a hand on Moses’s back and stroked his spine gently.

“I wish it weren’t so, but there are many eyes in the palace, Moses, and many ears. Some belong to those who care for you and others… do not. If you and Ramses are not careful, you may place each other in the path of greater dangers than heartbreak.”

“I understand,” Moses said quietly.

Tuya moved her hand to rest on his shoulder and held him firmly. “You are wise, Moses. Wiser than many born to rule. But remember - sometimes what makes a thing dangerous is not its existence… but the lengths people will go to hide it.”

Moses gave a faint nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“I know you will.” The Queen replied as she gracefully rose to her feet.

Tuya reached forwards and cupped Moses’s face in her hands, then leaned forwards to plant a gentle kiss on his brow.

He listened as the sounds of her footsteps faded and shifted to that of the locusts chirping in the bushes nearby.

Moses remained on the bench long after her departure, until the lengthening shadows planted cold kisses on his bare toes and he finally made to stand.

Perhaps he had been too hard on Ramses. After all, the very fact that he agreed to help him better the lives of the slaves was something Moses never imagined he could hope for.

His brother was taking a heavy burden upon his shoulders by choosing to soothe Moses’s wounds and right the wrongs of an ageless dynasty.

And Ramses was right - change could not happen in just a day. He needed to give him time, and more importantly, needed to apologise. He wanted to thank him for following through and speaking with their father, and clarify that his guilt stemmed only from his powerlessness and not for what transpired between them.

Memory of Ramses’s lips on his neck charged across his mind’s eyes and brought heat to his ears.

No, he would never regret the night they shared.

Chapter Text

The sun hung heavy in the sky as Moses approached the edge of the Luxor Temple site. 

From afar, the clamor of chisels on stone and the grunts of men pushing sledges echoed across the dusty expanse. Sweat dappled the backs of the slaves as they worked, and dust clung thick to skin and hair alike.

It was the same scene as always, except for one thing.

Large ceramic jars of water stood under shaded awnings near the center of the yard. Slaves were lining up in small groups, filling clay cups and passing them amongst each other. 

The youngest ones drank the liquid eagerly, while the adults eyed it with an air of caution and looked around as if expecting a trick - or a punishment to follow.

Moses slowed his steps, taking it in.

The mercy looked strange in a place built on suffering.

He watched as one man - an older laborer with scars down his back - held a cup in both hands and stared at it for several moments before his eyes flicked toward an overseer suspiciously. Only when the guard gave a curt nod did he take a small sip.

A young boy near him whispered, “Do you think they made a mistake?”

“No,” the older man whispered warily. “But don’t expect that this treatment extends beyond today. They could take this water away from our very insides if they so wished.”

The child’s face scrunched as he carefully pushed his cup away from him and Moses sighed at the scene, a knot forming in his stomach.

Even if Ramses made a hundred changes like this, healing would take more than years - it would take generations .

“Moses.”

He turned. Ramses was striding toward him from the scaffolding line, golden jewelry glinting in the sunlight against his strong chest, his expression unreadable.

Moses stepped forward to meet him. “Ramses. Can we speak privately?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

As the two walked off together along the edge of the temple wall, two other figures watched them from a shaded alcove. 

Hotep and Huy, dressed in light desert robes and cloaks against the heat, exchanged a glance before following quietly.

Moses and Ramses continued around the bend and stopped near a grove of date palms, shielded from view of the laborers and presumably out of earshot.

Ramses leaned back against one of the trunks, brushing sweat from his brow. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you again so soon.”

Moses glanced to the side. “I wasn’t sure either,” he admitted. “But… I’ve done some thinking about things, and I heard what you did for the slaves… They don’t seem to believe it.”

Ramses nodded. “How could you expect them to? That kind of trust has long since been broken.”

A beat of acknowledgement passed between them and Moses cleared his throat.

“I wanted to thank you,” Moses began clumsily, “and to apologize.”

Ramses’s eyes softened. “You don’t have to. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“I do, and there is.” Moses said, locking his eyes with Ramses’s. “You didn’t deserve to be treated the way you were this morning.” He took a breath. “Much has happened these days, and you’re right that feeling guilty alone accomplishes nothing - that the change I want will take more time than possibly you or I could ever give. There is little I can do to help, but not nothing. And you… you can do so much more - and you’re willing - for which I'm grateful.”

Ramses sighed and pushed his back off the tree behind him, taking a step closer to Moses.

“I’m sorry.” Moses continued. “And I wanted you to know that I don’t regret giving myself to you last night. This morning I was just letting myself feel guilty for being born lucky enough to have the opportunities I do. And I was upset about it, but I didn’t want you to feel -”

“Moses.” Ramses placed a gentle finger on his brother’s lips. “You’re rambling.”

Moses looked away for a moment, face flushed. “All I mean to say is… I’m sorry.”

“I’ve gathered that.” Ramses chuckled, moving his hands to Moses’s shoulders. His smirk shifted slightly before he spoke again, his demeanor becoming more serious. 

“I was never upset with you. Instead I was more angry at myself.” Ramses replied. ‘I should’ve chosen my words more carefully too. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I wasn’t willing to work for the changes that need to be. And after I had left, I was afraid that you might have thought I only pretended to care about your woes in order to bed you.”

Moses’s eyes searched his. “I know you better than that.”

Ramses closed his eyes and pressed his head against Moses’s. The silence passing between them morphing from awkward tension to comfort.

“It will take time, Moses. But I meant what I said before - I want to try. I will try.”

“I know.” Moses murmured. “I believe you.”

Ramses stepped closer to him and pulled Moses into a sweltering embrace.

The shared heat between their connected bodies under the shade of the date palms rivaled the blaze of the sun’s powerful glare.

Moses settled into the stillness as Ramses held him, breathing him in like a balm.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

“It’s only been half a day.” Moses said, voice hushed and trembling.

Ramses dipped his head and pressed a soft kiss just below his collarbone, “I know. But be it hours or days, your absence weighs on me the same.”

Moses chuckled lightly. “You know, before, I never thought you would be such a smooth talker.”

“I’m only telling the truth.” Ramses replied, the warmth of his breath wrapping around the line of Moses’s neck as his hand wrapped firmly around his waist.

“Ramses…” Moses whispered, hesitating for a moment. “Not here.” 

The Prince Regent sighed and loosened his grip. “I won’t push you for more,” Ramses said. “But… if we could have moments like this, even just this - I would be content.”

Moses nodded slowly, resting his hand over Ramses’s heart as he pushed him gently away.

“If it’s the right time and place… I won’t deny you.” Moses replied.

Ramses’s smile returned to his face. “I’ll be waiting for the opportunity.”

The two princes finished their conversation and departed for the temple with lighter hearts than before - but only a pace away, twin shadows lingered in their wake.

Hotep and Huy silently rose from the brush behind the grove of palms. They had witnessed enough.

Hotep’s eyes were narrow, calculating. “We should tell the Pharaoh.”

“Immediately,” Huy agreed as they retreated quickly onto the desert path, like vipers fleeing with stolen knowledge.

Chapter Text

For the first time in a while, Moses’s day ended without the dramaticism and woe he had become so used to.

Ramses was making an effort to help the slaves - proving the sincerity of his promise - and Moses was able to stand at his side, comfortable in the knowledge that change would come.

He returned to his rooms and left the door ajar like he had during the days before he learned of his birth.

The sheer curtains hanging over the entrance of his chambers fluttered gently as a light breeze gusted through the windows. 

Moses released a relaxed sigh as he imagined the visage of Ramses quietly parting the fabric and closing the space between them. 

He laid on his bed as thoughts of the touches they shared lingered on his mind. 

Warm emotions swirled in the pit of his stomach as he closed his eyes in search of sleep.

When Ramses had told him he thought of Moses as more than a brother, he hadn't known how to feel. But now, there was no doubt in his mind that he longed for his affections.

The image of the Prince Regent’s face in the afternoon sun lingered behind his eyelids, as vivid and warm as the press of his body beneath the date palms. Moses could feel the ghost of his arms around him, the whispered words that still played in his ears.

“...If we could have moments like this, even just this - I would be content.”

Moses smiled lightly to himself, thinking only of Ramses until his mind finally went quiet and drifted into a deep slumber.

Hours passed and the darkness shifted.

Moses was within the throes of sleep as two shadowed figures approached him. 

His eyes shot open as a sudden hand clamped down over his mouth.

Moses jolted - fully awake in an instant as he twisted his body in resistance. 

He thrashed as the weight of his assailant pressed into him and another hand wrapped around his throat and squeezed tight.

Moses’s gasps turned to chokes as panic surged through him.

With a primal, instinctive shove, he landed a solid kick against one of the figures. 

The man grunted and stumbled backward, crashing into the stand that held his bronze candelabra. Metal clanged loudly against the floor, and the hands of the other man which gripped his mouth and throat loosened slightly.

Moses attempted to throw a punch at him, but the other assailant was back on his feet and intercepted the attack, roughly taking hold of his arms. 

Something coarse - cloth or rope - wrapped around his wrists and tightened until his skin burned.

Moses tried to scream, but the muffled sounds couldn’t pass the palm pressing into him. 

He felt the grip on the base of his throat tighten and his vision blurred. He tried to kick again, but the fight was futile now. 

Moses watched through hazy eyes as a third attacker appeared. There was no remorse as he gripped his jaw and pinched Moses’s nose closed, cutting off the only air he had been successful in claiming throughout his struggle.

A few more desperate seconds passed and Moses’s body finally succumbed to the assault - the room tilted violently, his limbs slackened, and everything went dark.

…

Moses opened his eyes to pitch black and the lurching sensation of motion.

A dull ache pulsed behind his temples, and his throat was raw and dry. His hands were bound, and a gag was between his teeth in place of the hands that had suffocated him before. 

Moses took a shaky breath in through his nose, more dust than air entering his lungs. 

A sudden, violent cough shook him, the following gasps of dusty air burning in his lungs.

Something heavy shifted outside - the sensation of movement coming to an abrupt halt.

The sudden change made him dizzy.

A slice of moonlight poured into the enclosed space as a small door was slid back to reveal him.

Moses blinked hard against the glare, barely registering the silhouette of the man standing there before a rough hand grabbed his arm and yanked him forward.

Moses inhaled sharply, his body aching from the remnant pain of the assault and having been left to lay unconscious on a hard surface.

He struggled to stand as he was led into the night, the cool wind chilling him as he stumbled forward, barely able to keep pace with his captor.

He squinted and scanned his surroundings - to his sides was only the flat horizon and above he saw countless stars in the sky. Before him, the dark silhouette of a building grew larger in his eyes.

Moses struggled to examine the man in front of him, hoping to find some sort of clue as to who he was or why this was happening - that was when he saw it - a familiar golden edge to a scimitar hanging at his side. 

The moonlight clearly illuminated it - the mark of the royal guard.

His stomach turned.

The Pharoah… Moses thought, finally gaining some clarity.

The guard stopped in front of the dark building, reaching forward to shove open the door as another man appeared behind Moses and began to unbind his hands.

The feeling of cold, sharp metal traced quickly across his wrists as Moses’s hands were cut free.

He brought them to his front and rubbed them protectively, feeling a slight slickness of blood where the knife had carelessly cut into his skin. 

The guard untied the cloth gag which was secured tightly around the back of Moses’s head, then relentlessly shoved him forward as the heavy door before them swung open on creaking hinges.

Moses barely managed to catch himself as he was tossed carelessly onto the stone floor.

“You will remain here.” The guard finally spoke. “You will be cared for, fed, and kept in good health. But you will not return to Memphis, and you will speak to no one outside this place. Guards will remain to ensure your comfort and compliance.”

Moses’s breath caught as he whirled around to meet the man’s eye. “Why?” Was all he could manage to ask.

“Pharoah’s orders.” He replied.

Then, the door closed and Moses was left alone in the flickering dark - the wind howling against the stone like an injured dog separated from the rest of its pack.

Chapter Text

Moses sat frozen for several moments, listening to the shifting sands just beyond the stone walls.

He rose slowly to his feet and stepped forward to press his palm to the heavy door - solid wood and iron - it didn’t budge.

He slammed his fist into it. “Let me out!” Moses yelled, his dry throat scratching with the words.

There was no response.

After a few more attempts, the once Prince of Egypt released an irritated sigh, relenting to the confines of his situation.

He had no idea how long he was unconscious, no clue where he was, and no idea what direction to turn to find the city again.

His choices were limited. 

Moses rubbed an exhausted hand through his hair and slumped along the door to the ground. He held his face in his hands as he lamented.

What will Ramses think when he finds out Moses is gone? 

Would he think he left willingly? No - Moses had told him once that he didn’t want a life without him in it. 

He released a heavy sigh and opened his eyes again, noticing the empty spot on his finger where his turquoise ring normally sat.

He had taken it off before retiring that evening - Moses could only hope Ramses would find it and know that it would never have been left behind willingly. 

As his eyes adjusted to the low light, his gaze shifted to take stock of the room. 

Around him he could make out the plain stone walls, simple woven rug on the floor, and a cot with a few sheets against the far wall. Opposite that was a chair and table near a thin, rectangular window which provided the only view of the outside.

A few other items were about the room - empty shelves near the chair and a pitcher, bucket, basin, and crude stool behind a screen near the door. 

In all, the room was spare but not cruel. It certainly wasn’t like his chambers in the palace, but he supposed it was still better living conditions than what was provided to the slaves.

Moses pushed himself off the floor and crossed to the window, frantic, hopeless thoughts pooling into his mind as he looked out at the stars. 

Why would the Pharaoh send him here?

Did he learn about him and Ramses?

How did he know? How much did he know?

Moses thought about what the Pharaoh would have done if he had seen first hand his two sons embracing. Just how horribly they would have been punished if he saw them with their lips on each other’s.

He had been fearful of it coming to light, but never truly considered the consequences before.

Did he know too, of everything they had said about relieving the slaves? 

It went against the very philosophy which Pharaohs for centuries had ingrained as law in governing all of Egypt - he would have seen it as a threat. And when this radical idea worked itself deeper into the next king’s heart with every moment he and Moses spent together - it was too much to be ignored.

Moses turned to the cot and sat, his back resting against the cool stone wall behind him, sending a chill down his spine.

He looked to his aching wrists - still stinging slightly from where the knife had grazed him when his bindings were cut. 

He slid down the wall and laid onto his side.

The Pharaoh had to know everything. There was no other explanation for this - for removing him so forcefully from Ramses’s life.

If he believed Moses was the source of change in Ramses, he would strike him from the picture to preserve the image of Egypt - keep it untainted by the soft-heartedness of a slave-born prince who dared to whisper heresy into his heir’s ear.

But then, why didn’t he kill me? Moses thought.

He was glad for the fact the Pharaoh hadn't - but why sequester him to this peculiar form of exile? 

Moses ran a hand over his taught brow.

He should have been more careful - should have listened to his Mother’s warning.

Speaking so candidly with Ramses in the grove of date palms could very well be the reason for all of this.

Someone must have heard us. He thought bitterly.

“ ...There are many eyes in the palace, Moses, and many ears. Some belong to those who care for you and others… do not. ”

He let out a tense sigh as he clenched his eyes shut.

Tomorrow… Would Ramses be looking for him?

How long would he have to wait before he could see him again?

Would he ever?

Moses pushed the thought away.

No - I will… I have to.

Chapter Text

The morning sun filtered through the slatted windows of the Prince Regent’s chambers, casting long golden streaks across the polished floor.

Ramses stirred beneath the linen sheets, the scent of myrrh and sun-warmed papyrus lingering in the air. For a moment, all was still.

Then memories of yesterday returned - the heat of Moses’s breath on his throat, the soft laughter… That embrace under the date palms.

His skin warmed at the thought, and a deep-seated longing for more encroached on his mind.

A rare smile ghosted across Ramses’s lips. He lay still a moment longer, indulging in the sweetness of it.

I’ll have to provide that time and place today. He thought.

He rose from bed with a quiet breath and crossed to the balcony, the morning already warm on his bare chest. From here, the city of Memphis rolled out in sprawling ochre and alabaster, the Nile winding like a silver ribbon beyond the rooftops.

Soon, Moses would be waking too - hopefully to the same sense of peace.

Servants filtered in and out of his room as the morning rolled on, and Ramses sat at the low breakfast table, his robe loose around his shoulders as he enjoyed a plate of warm, honeyed bread and melon slices.

The workers eyed him warily as he ate in silence, unaccustomed to seeing Ramses with such a calm demeanor. He didn’t ask for more drink or food, or to have the incense sticks re-lit - and when he was finished eating, he never even beckoned for servants to assist him with changing clothes.

As he went about dressing, all he could think about was their shared embrace in Moses’s chambers only nights ago. How he ran his hands along the lines of Moses’s body with an almost unbearable tenderness until he was finally allowed to do more. 

He could still feel the shape of his body below him.

How he ached for that feeling again.

Eager to see the younger Prince, Ramses finished his preparations for the day and made for the temple site.

Today, the overseers at Luxor awaited his inspection, and the midday sun would press its weight on the workers soon after.

He worked diligently for nearly two hours, his ears focused on the sound of the scaffolding around him, hoping he might recognize the sound of his brother’s steps soon.

He wrote it off as oversleeping when the steps did not come. 

If Moses was finally granted a peaceful sleep after so many nights of torment, he hoped it would be taken advantage of.

After a mid-day meal, Ramses walked the edge of the labor grounds, consulted with the architects, and offered a few words of encouragement to the guards implementing the new water protocol.

Still, there was no sign of Moses.

Satisfied that his work was complete enough for now, Ramses excused himself to search.

First, he leaned his head into Moses’s chambers. The room was tidied and pristinely kept - no sign of the younger Prince having been in it any time recently.

Next, he checked the gardens and the statues they sometimes climbed atop. There was no sign of him.

Finally, he pulled one of the guards aside.

“Has Prince Moses passed through this way?” Ramses asked.

The guard bowed. “Not to my knowledge, my lord.”

Ramses frowned, an edge of worry sliding closer to the surface. 

He dismissed the man and left, a growing urgency evident in his stride.

He made for Moses’s rooms again, hoping that perhaps by now he had returned from his escapade. And if he hadn’t, he decided, he could wait for him there.

The room looked just as it had when he checked in before.

The bed was made and the floor swept. No sandals left askew, no tunic draped over the back of a chair, no water jug half-finished on the table.

Everything seemed to be in its place - except Moses.

And… the ring .

On the bedside table, gleaming softly in the afternoon sun, the turquoise ring he had given Moses sat undisturbed.

Even through all that had happened, Moses had worn it every day since receiving it.

Ramses reached for it slowly, as if touching it might scare it away. 

The ring was cool in his palm, small and familiar - and all wrong, somehow, to be sitting there alone.

Ramses stared at it, unmoving for several seconds. He felt his throat tighten, his stomach twist.

Had Moses… left it deliberately?

No. That can’t be.

Ramses shook his head at the thought. But then - why was it here?

Doubt slid in, quiet and cruel. 

Was this his way of saying goodbye? Had last night meant more to me than it did to him?

Ramses closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. 

He wouldn’t let his mind spiral into betrayal and bitterness. Not after all of the moments they shared, and especially not without knowing the truth.

Perhaps Moses had only taken it off to bathe. Or to sleep. Or perhaps it had slipped free during the night and a servant had returned it here without thinking.

Still… it left a hollow ache in Ramses’s chest. A growing, shapeless fear he couldn’t quite name.

He slid the ring into the folds of his shendyt and left the chambers without a word, his jaw and mind set.

Ramses moved through the halls of the Palace like a man possessed.

He checked the library, the kitchens, the armory, and even the servants’ courtyards.

Nothing.

Everywhere he turned, someone shook their head.

“No, my Prince. I have not seen him this morning.”

“Forgive me, my lord - I assumed he was with you.”

The replies grew more apologetic and uncertain with every one of Ramses’s quickened steps.

He questioned everyone - guards at the outer gates, chambermaids scrubbing mosaics, even two young stable boys grooming a pair of war horses - no one had seen his brother since yesterday.

By the time Ramses stood before the massive carved doors of the audience chamber, his mouth was dry and his chest tight with apprehension.

Two guards pulled open the doors with a creak of effort, revealing the Pharaoh seated high upon his alabaster throne, councilors murmuring at his sides.

Seti looked up at once.

“Ramses.” His voice was calm, steady.

“I have come to seek your council on something urgent, Father.”

Pharaoh Seti looked down at him and nodded.

“You may approach.”

Ramses strode forward, barely sparing a glance for the scribes and advisors who bowed at his passing.

“It’s about Moses,” he began. “I’ve searched every part of the palace - his chambers, the grounds, the temple yard. He’s nowhere to be found - no one has seen him since last night.”

The Pharaoh sat back slightly, folding one leg over the other in a measured movement. “Perhaps he rose early and took to the city. He has done so before.”

“I thought the same, Father, but for him to have gone and yet not one person saw their Prince depart? It does not sit well with me.” Ramses’s tone wavered between formality and unease as he spoke. “My concern was only further piqued when I found something just as out of place.”

He reached into his sash and withdrew the ring, holding it up for his father to see. “He left this behind.” He stated. “He never removes it.”

Seti eyed the turquoise ring with the faintest of frowns. “A troubling sign,” he said at last. “But let us not leap to conclusions. There could be many reasons for his absence.”

Ramses’s grip on the ring tightened. “With respect, Father, I truly believe something’s happened to him. I would not interrupt your sessions without sufficient cause for concern.”

Seti gave a slow nod and raised a hand.

“Summon the Guard.” He commanded. “Have a search conducted through the city. Find the whereabouts of my son and bring him to me - spare no expense in your efforts.”

A steward bowed and swiftly disappeared.

Seti looked back to his heir and rose from his throne slowly, descending the few steps to stand in front of his son. 

“Have faith that he is well, Ramses.” Seti said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Moses is beloved by all of us. I will not allow harm to come to him.”

Ramses met his father’s eyes - his infinite gaze full of gravity. He wanted to believe the words. He needed to.

“Thank you, Father,” he said quietly.

Seti nodded once, the perfect image of a Father extending comfort to his son. 

“Go now. The guard will report to me as soon as he is found.”

Ramses gave a stiff bow, the ring still cradled in his palm as he exited the throne room.

Moses… Please return to me soon.

Chapter Text

Weeks went by and Moses’s world shrunk to four walls and a narrow slit of sky.

The desert wind whispered beyond the stone window, hot and constant, rustling the edge of the pale curtain that fluttered just enough to suggest there was life beyond the walls.

The guards outside his small hut did not speak to him. 

Moses didn’t care to engage them in conversation anyway - nothing they said could free him from this prison.

And though he was taken care of - food and scrolls and stationary to keep him occupied - it was a prison nonetheless. 

Moses’s mind often drifted back to wonder what exactly the Pharoah’s plan was. Once he died, who would keep Moses here? Unless there were outstanding orders to have his son killed alongside him when the time came. But then, why bother keeping him alive now?

He ran a tired hand down his face and fell into the chair nearest the window.

The afternoon light cast golden bars across the smooth floor. Moses traced the outline of it until his eyes caught a glimpse of a small beetle scuttling towards the wall.

He watched the bug amble along the shadows until it emerged onto the bright windowsill, the particles of dust on its tiny back gleaming in the sun. The beetle shook a little bit before hopping off the ledge into the sands below. 

Moses wished he had that sort of freedom, but even if he could leave, he wouldn’t know where to go.

He could never return to Memphis while the Pharoah was alive, but would Ramses forgive him if he chose to wander into the desert instead of return to him? 

If you and Ramses are not careful, you may place each other in the path of greater dangers than heartbreak.

The words echoed in his mind again, heavy with unheeded prophecy.

He hadn’t listened. He had become too comfortable with the idea of love - enough to think it  might be stronger than danger, or that it could even be the cause of change in Egypt itself.

But Seti had seen that Moses, born of a people enslaved, was whispering ideas that did not belong in his golden halls. He had seen how closely Ramses clung to him - and how far that influence might stretch.

Moses leaned back in the chair and let his head drape over the rest. 

Why spare me? He thought.

Only one answer seemed plausible, and it caught in his throat like a thorn:

Because he still sees me as his son.

Seti had always been a ruler first, a father second. And in this, Moses had been a threat too costly to ignore, but too beloved to destroy.

Moses lifted a hand above him and stared at the ridges of his knuckles, at the palms that had never known a day's true labor and yet felt so heavy now.

He wondered where Ramses was. If he was looking for him or if he believed Moses had abandoned him.

He closed his eyes.

If only I’d held him longer that morning... if only I had told him everything I now want to say.

A shadow passed over the window’s light - likely a servant arriving with his next meal.

Moses didn’t rise.

There was no appetite left in him - not for food, not for hope.

Only for the memories he clung so fiercely to his heart.

…

Another day passed and the late afternoon sun bled across the desert sky, casting gold and bruised purple across the dunes.

Moses sat near the window again, letting his body soak up the warmth of the remaining day’s sun before the chill of night came.

His body was aching and hollow with hunger. He had refused the meal brought to him last night and this morning too - whether out of stubbornness, sorrow, or some faint need to control something , even his own misery, he wasn’t sure. But now, his stomach gnawed at itself, and a dull haze clouded his thoughts.

Worse than the hunger was the longing.

His body still remembered Ramses’s hands. His arms. His voice. The quiet “I missed you” murmured in the shade of the date palms.

It felt like years ago..

Moses’s mind wandered and he thought of the night he had been made Chief Architect. The turquoise ring Ramses placed on his finger that gained even more meaning to him over time.

He had been untouchable then - crowned not by birth, but by bond.

And then, he met Tzipporah, the Midian girl.

He remembered returning to his chambers only to find the woman gone. And how he had chased her, driven more by fascination than anything, into the heart of the lower town.

Everything that followed had completely shattered his reality. 

He had heard the song, and it showed him the weight of Egypt’s glory.

The woman and man who had claimed to be his siblings had sung it in whispers, but it had struck him like thunder. The lullaby that haunted his dreams since childhood. The melody that didn’t belong to palaces and perfumed halls.

“Hush now, my baby…”

He could still hear it, faint and echoing, like wind through reeds.

Were they truly my blood? he wondered.

Did he have brothers and sisters who toiled in the dirt, who remembered him as a child carried away by the river?

He would never know, and he could do nothing for them now.

The ache in his chest swelled. He rubbed his eyes with one hand, the world swimming in a blur of grief and heat - until something on the horizon caught his attention.

He blinked.

Beyond the dunes, just cresting the golden rise of sand - a figure.

It looked like a camel led by someone cloaked in dark fabric, their face obscured by distance. The sun lit the edges of their silhouette like flame.

Moses’s heart kicked against his ribs.

It was the first time he had seen sign of anyone besides the palace guards and servants out here.

He looked away and blinked again, knowing full well that desert heat could trick the minds of the weak. He didn’t think he was hallucinating, but he had to be sure.

When he looked again, they were still there.

He watched as the figures moved slowly - but with purpose. 

Not wandering. Not lost.

They crested another dune and vanished, but Moses’s breath was tight in his chest now. 

His mind was racing.

They were going somewhere. Maybe following a path he couldn’t see.

He looked out at the long stretch of desert again, calculating.

He didn’t know where he was. Had never tried to flee because the desert was endless and deadly. A wrong direction could mean death within days - less if he failed to find water. But this traveler… if he could reach them and ask them…

Moses’s fingers curled tightly against the armrests of his chair. 

A vague and risky plan began to bloom in his chest.

He would have to wait until nightfall. He will have gotten his next meal by then, and the guards would be tired from another day in the sun. 

He would run while the world was cloaked in shadow, hoping he could get enough distance that catching him would be impossible in the night. 

He would find the trail left by the traveller and follow them. And with any luck, he would find his way to civilization and come up with a way he could go back home to Ramses again. 

The idea burned inside Moses’s chest, filling him with hope and desire.

This was probably among the most idiotic things he would have ever done, but that foolhardy version of Moses was more true to himself than the one who sat idly by waiting in a hut in the desert.

He stood and took in his surroundings, knowing he only had hours now to prepare the things he needed.

For the first time in a long while, Moses was determined to act, and he would make sure to do everything he could to ensure his efforts to flee would not be in vain.

Chapter Text

The desert had grown still under its cloak of night. 

Pale moonlight spilled across the sand outside Moses’s window, shimmering off dunes like silver dust. He had paced the edges of his room until the soles of his feet ached. The silence had grown too loud, too unforgiving.

There was no time left for waiting.

He stepped back into the shadows beside the door, breathing shallowly. He’d run through the plan in his head a hundred times: distract the guard, incapacitate him, flee.

Just if he would do that successfully… Well, he would find out soon.

His heart thundered in his chest as he reached for a shelf covered in scrolls and bronze plates.

It was time to act.

Moses drew a steady breath then yanked the shelf from the wall - flinging it and its adornments haphazardly across the floor.

The bronze plates made an especially loud clattering sound as they landed, startling even him -  though he was the cause.

Only a moment of heavy silence held before the sound of the guards' keys slapped against the wood of the door outside. 

Moses threw a cloak over his shoulders and pressed his body against the wall next to the door.

He watched with apprehension as the heavy latch turned, and a guard burst in, weapon half-raised.

In one swift motion, Moses lunged and slammed the heel of his hand into the guard’s neck. The man stumbled forward, and Moses stuck out his leg, tripping the man who couldn’t catch himself properly before toppling to the floor.

The second guard was just behind him, and Moses had little time to act.

He reached down to the guard on the floor and snatched the man’s short blade from its sheath, then slipped out of the door onto the sand where he wavered unbalanced by the soft ground.

The second guard was upon him now with a bundle of rope at his side.

Moses ran.

His muscles which had grown stiff with disuse burned with every stride he took. He could hear the rapid, wild drumbeat of his heart in his chest. 

He heard a thwip and the rope grazed his foot, having barely missed its mark. 

The cold night wind pushed against him as his fervent desire to get away increased with every step.

He heard the guard shouting at him as he ran, and it occurred to him for the first time the trouble they would be in if they didn’t bring Moses back safely.

It was a painful revelation, but he couldn’t stop now. 

The rope lashed at him again, and this time coiled itself around Moses’s knees, pulling him face-first down into the sand.

His jaw and nose ached, but there was no time to console himself.

Moses acted immediately, using the knife he had taken to cut himself free - he was lucky the guard who owned it had kept it so sharp.

The final fiber of rope severed and gave way, releasing the binds around Moses’s legs. 

But just as he was unbound, a hand reached out to grasp him. 

The guard said nothing as he roughly grasped for Moses’s head. His hand settled on Moses’s hairpiece, and in return, Moses delivered a sharp kick to the man’s lower abdomen.

The guard keeled over, and Moses pried himself from under his grasp, losing his wig in the process.

He scrambled to his feet and began to run again, sprinting as far away as he could into the darkness.

Moses ran until his lungs screamed and he finally had to slow. Over the dunes, the sound of distant shouts rose and echoed across the horizon.

He sank down into the sand, sliding his cloaked back along the cold dune and taking heavy, heaving breaths. 

He hoped that the darkness was thick enough to obscure his presence now, though he would have to stay low to avoid the possibility his silhouette would be illuminated by the large, full moon.

Moses allowed himself a few more moments to catch his breath, but knew he couldn’t stay put long. He was still too close to the guards, and if the wind picked up more, the tracks left by the traveller would be lost.

He took one more breath before pressing on, using the sound of the guard’s muffled shouts as an anchor - telling him which direction he came from and where he should go.

The light of the moon was as much his friend as it was his enemy. Moses needed it to find the shifts in the sand where the camel had been, and hoped he would see something promising soon.

He crested a dune and tripped on a rock, stumbling down the other side, legs collapsing beneath him as he slid through the loose sand. He caught himself hard at the bottom, coughing as sand flung into his nose and mouth.

It was certainly not the most graceful position he’s ever been in, and it made Moses think of how Ramses would’ve chastised his clumsiness.

But he would’ve helped him up, too.

Moses sighed as he sat up straight and brushed the sand away from his body.

He trembled slightly from the cold, but also from the memories.

If he sat in them too long, he knew he would be able to do very little but despair.

He had to push himself on - it was the only way he knew he could see Ramses again.

Deciding his brooding had lasted too long already, Moses made to stand.

There was a sound - a shuffle, then a whisper.

Moses hadn’t heard it until it was too late.

Torches illuminated his surroundings, casting him into harsh shadows as rough, calloused, hands seized his shoulders.

Moses reached for the short blade he had taken and gasped as someone wrenched his arms behind his back and forced him to his knees. Another figure tore the blade from his grip and kicked it away. He tried to fight, but fists and boots slammed into his ribs, jaw, and gut.

He hit the sand hard, head reeling.

Laughter echoed around him, then voices, harsh and clipped - it wasn’t the palace guards.

Moses was held up by the hair as rough hands tugged the cloth at his waist, searching for something in the folds of his shendyt. They snapped the gold medallion from around his neck, cut his cloak away from him, and even took his sandals.

In moments, anything of value was gone.

“Should we take him with us? He could be sold as good stock.” A sharp, slimy voice asked.

“Let... me… go .” Moses snarled and strained against the assailant’s grasp. 

The man holding him tightened his grip on his hair and tossed him back into the sand.

“Tsk… So disobedient. He’s clearly had no experience as a slave. Let’s just leave him. It’s a long journey on foot and the whelp looks like he hasn’t done a day of work in his life.”

“Well…” The slimy man took a step closer to Moses’s abused body, his voice tinged with contemplation. “He could be a slave suited better for other work.”

The very insinuation filled Moses with disgust, rage, and panic simultaneously. 

The larger assailant reached out to lift Moses up by his hair again.

“Hassan, bring the torch closer.” He stated.

Moses seethed as a third man holding a torch approached. The face of the man holding him was made visible now, his dark, strong jaw peppered with black hair. His eyes scanned Moses as if appraising an object.

Moses focused on the man’s crooked nose and viciously spat, the wad of saliva landing just underneath his right eye.

“Bastard!” The man threw Moses onto the ground again and instantly planted a foot in his side.

He brought his arms over his face to protect himself, but could do little in terms of defense as the assault continued. His strength quickly waned, and adrenaline was no longer enough to keep his arms raised. 

Moses’s mouth filled with a strong, iron-tinged taste and he could only breathe shallow, wheezing breaths. He coughed - a warm, thick liquid passing between his lips.

The man finally stopped the beating, sparing Moses only one more moment of his attention in order to spit on him.

“We’ll let the desert finish him off. It’ll be a nice, slow death.” He said finally, voice drenched with satisfaction. “Let’s go.”

There was no more discussion as the group departed, leaving Moses stranded in the sand.

With nothing left but the linen wrap around his waist, Moses felt the cold bite him crueler than before.

He pulled his knees closer to his body and tucked his bare feet into himself, his body instinctually attempting to keep what warmth it could.

Moses coughed again as the night air assaulted his lungs.

He was right when he thought this would be the most idiotic thing he’d ever done - he hadn’t even considered marauders a possibility. 

Moses closed his eyes as he let out another shaky breath.

I’m sorry, Ramses. He thought as his eyes began drifting closed. I was a fool.

Chapter Text

The sun burned high over Luxor Temple, gilding the scaffolds and statues in molten gold. Such vivid scenes would often fill the Prince Regent with pride, but now, Ramses hardly noticed.

He moved through the days like an automaton - signing orders, overseeing block placements, approving measurements and materials. His hands worked, his voice spoke, but his thoughts always - always - drifted back to Moses.

It had been weeks - weeks since Ramses last heard his voice or seen those sparkling, defiant green eyes, wide with fire and truth.

He forced himself to fill his role, and he had been, but every day without Moses - his friend, his brother, his lover - hurt more than the last.

At first, he'd hoped Moses would return the next morning - flushed from some un-princely adventure or late-night pondering. If it were so, Ramses could forgive him - maybe use the situation as an excuse to chastise and tease him until they fell into each other's arms. 

But, when the next morning turned to evening, none of the explanations he had come up with held anymore. Time dragged by at an agonizing pace after that, and it wasn’t until the third week of Moses’s absence the guards returned with news.

Their findings: Moses had been abducted - by the slaves. 

Ramses wanted to unravel.

“How could this have happened?” Ramses was an unyielding force as he furiously paced the floor of the throne room where his father delivered the news.

“The slaves have history of discontent with the dynasty, Ramses.” The Pharoah stated. “I warned you that too much leniency could cause those beneath us to forget their place, and now you see first-hand the consequences of your actions.”

Ramses was incredulous. Could it really be true? The people that Moses sought to save, the ones he shared blood with… betrayed him out of spite? 

Moses was the only hope they had in Memphis. The fools who took him would be sorry. Anyone who knew, anyone who stayed silent - their friends, their families - they would all pay the price for taking Moses away from him.

“Where did they take him?” Ramses asked, and his father stepped down from his dais to place a steadying hand on Ramses’s shoulder.

He looked deep into his son’s eyes, reflecting a certain distant sadness in his gaze.

Ramses felt a sudden strike through his heart.

“Father… please. You cannot tell me he’s been -”

The Pharoah nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

“No… No .” The Prince Regent took a step back

“Ramses.” Pharoah Seti said his name calmingly, but Ramses would not hear it.

It was too much. He had just won Moses’s affections, just held him in his arms and met his lips with his own. He agreed to help him find peace and bring it to the very people who sought to destroy him. And now - now Moses was gone. Swept away like prints in the shifting sands.

What was left of him? Memories… the ring - all but a trinket now.

Ramses stood stiff as the Pharaoh approached again, taking him into his arms. “I am grieving with you, my son. We will make the slaves pay for this crime against the kingdom - our legacy.”

Yes… Ramses thought. They will pay dearly.

Seti’s arms slackened, and Ramses bowed wordlessly, not waiting for permission to leave for his rooms. 

He reached into the folds of his pocket and clutched the turquoise ring tightly in his fist. 

He threw the door to his chambers open without ceremony, slamming it on the hard, alabaster walls.

Ramses paced, holding the ring so tightly his knuckles lightened. 

Moses’s face appeared in his mind, and the life they shared flashed before his eyes.

Ramses threw a heated punch at his wooden bedpost, splintering it slightly and burying shards in his hand.

For a moment, he could only stare at the broken thing. He watched as the blood he had left behind began to drip onto the bed below.

Moses would hate to see him like this.

…But he’s gone now.

Ramses took a long, drawn breath in through his nose, then pulled the pieces of wood from his knuckles and flicked them onto the floor.

He wandered to the balcony and stepped into the cooling air, looking onto the horizon and feeling his heart shift from rage to deep lamentation.

“Why?” He whispered to himself. “ Why ?!?” 

Ramses shouted at the sunset, as if the brilliant red, pink, and orange hues personally offended him.

He hung his head low, clenching his eyes shut as vexed, sorrowful tears began to spill forth.

He had never felt so helpless, so angry… so alone.

A knock on his door disturbed his grieving.

“ What ?” Ramses hissed at the caller, barely able to keep the ire from his voice.

“Evening meal, my lord.” The voice returned.

Ramses didn’t have the energy to think on it further. “Fine.” He said simply. 

He turned back to the view of the city as servants took turns placing trays of food and drink on the grand table near the front of his room.

He allowed the shuffle of servants to pass until he heard the door close tightly behind them.

Ramses sniffed and sighed.

The expectations he was born with still had their weight, even in times of such great loss - perhaps only in the dead of night would he find time to weep. 

“...My lord.” A very quiet, hesitant voice called for him.

He did not recognise it, but turned to see, ready to strike from history the one who would dare press him further this day. 

A woman with thick, curly brown hair prostrated herself fully before him, palms pressed flat to the marble. The lines of her simple dress were dusty from the city, and tattered no doubt from years of work. She was no simple servant or courtier - she was a slave.

Chapter Text

“How dare you seek to address me.” Ramses seethed, re-entering his chamber to approach where she lay. “After what your people have done, you have little right to even breathe in my presence.” 

“Your Highness,” she continued, breath quivering. “Please forgive me. I had to speak with you - there was no other way -”

“To your knees.” Ramses’s voice was low and sharp as he circled the woman, edging closer to his collection of blades mounted on the wall.

The woman obeyed, rising to sit back on her knees but keeping her head bowed low.

Ramses’s gaze lingered on her for only a moment before plucking a curved ceremonial scimitar from its bracket. He drew it smoothly from its sheath and turned it in his hands, watching the dim light catch on its polished edge.

The woman’s shoulders tensed, but she said nothing.

“I will allow you only one chance to explain your purpose here. You have no right to force an audience with the Prince Regent.” Ramses said coolly. “If your explanation does not satisfy me, I will take your life as the first of the many slaves who will see their end in retribution for the death of my brother.”

“Please, your Highness, I come to you at such great cost precisely because of Moses.”

Ramses stiffened, pointing the scimitar at the woman with little mercy.

“How dare you refer to a Prince of Egypt so disrespectfully! How audacious of you to even mention him after what your people have done!”

“I apologise, highness.” The woman bowed lower. “But please, you must listen! He may still be alive! Please, please hear what I have to say.”

With her last words, she boldly looked the Prince Regent in the eyes. 

Ramses stilled, his grip on the scimitar slackening as he stared into the familiar gaze.

“...Who are you?” Ramses asked.

“My name is Miriam, your Highness.” She broke eye contact to look at the floor again, and Ramses felt a pang in his heart as if something precious had been ripped away. “I am… I am -” She hesitated for only a moment before finishing “I am Prince Moses’s blood-born sister.”

There was silence.

Ramses stared at her and the air was somehow even heavier than before.

But that glint in her eyes - there was no mistaking it - it was the same as Moses’s.

“Explain.” It was all Ramses could think to say as shock and realization settled on him.

Miriam swallowed. “When your father gave the order to have the children of the Hebrews cast into the Nile, my mother… couldn’t bear it. She placed Moses in a basket and sent him down the river. I followed him. I watched as he was tossed about the tides, thrown like cargo on the waves until he was found… lifted from the water and placed into royal arms.”

The woman closed her eyes and took a breath, preparing to say more. “I’ve watched him ever since, from afar… Praying he would grow up safe in the walls of the palace. And I hoped one day he would return to us, but when that day came, he didn’t know who we were - or even who he was. But now… Now he’s gone, and whispers have risen among the groups of the lower town. Whispers that have been kept only in the homes of the slaves who know…”

“Know what?” Ramses asked.

She met his gaze. “Moses was not taken by our people.” Miriam stated. “He was taken by palace guards.”

Ramses went slack-jawed at the pronouncement. 

“You…” He began, formulating his thoughts. “Do you have proof of this?”

The woman nodded slightly. “Only some, your highness… Testimony, perhaps enough for you to go on. There is not much I can do to investigate, but… there’s a servant,” Miriam said breathlessly, “one who tends the halls near his quarters. She told me she heard a noise on the night he vanished. A loud, shattering crash, as if large plates of metal had been dropped to the ground.”

Ramses nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“Later that night in the lower town, others claimed they saw unknown, cloaked men traveling through with cargo on a sledge. The only identifying feature was a band of gold on the hilt of their blades.”

“Why didn’t you speak of this sooner?” Ramses pressed. “If these observations are true then it’s possible Moses could have been saved! We would've been able to track them!”

Miriam looked at the floor again. “Please understand, your highness. It is not so easy for slaves to get an audience with a noble - especially one of the royal family. And the men that night… If it really was the palace guard, we couldn’t possibly approach them. If anyone knew what we had seen… If anyone thought we would talk…” Miriam shook her head. “To involve the guard means that someone very powerful is responsible for this… The danger of speaking was too great, and it was not only my life at stake - I only came to you now because our people are being blamed for a crime they did not commit. One that will put so many innocent lives in danger…”

Miriam lowered herself to the floor again, palms flat on the stone. “Please. I know I’m just a slave in your eyes, but I would give anything to see him safe again, and if you do believe me - even a little - then I beg you not to give up searching for him.”

Ramses stood still for a moment before sliding the scimitar through the wrap around his waist and folding his arms.

There was too much to process, but he agreed with one thing. 

If the palace guards were involved, then Moses’s disappearance could only have been conducted by someone with as much power as him. Other than his Mother, Father, and Moses himself, there were very few people who fit the profile.

Somehow, the thought made it all worse.

A queasy feeling worked its way through Ramses’s head and he rubbed his temples, hoping for relief. 

“You have said your piece… Leave.” He said quietly to Miriam. With so much to consider, there was nothing else he could say today. 

Miriam stood slowly and crossed to the door, reaching an uncertain hand for the handle, wondering if she had really done everything she could.

“Why did you come to me with this?” Ramses asked quietly from across the room.

Miriam did not turn to look at the Prince as she responded. “Because I believe you care for him like I do.”

She waited a moment for him to respond, but when she was met with silence, began to open the latch to exit the room.

“...I will look into your claims.” Ramses muttered.

Miriam smiled privately to herself. “Thank you, your Highness.”

Chapter Text

Moses stirred to consciousness, his breath catching as his eyes opened to filtered light and the scent of herbs and linen.

A low canopy of woven cloth rustled gently above him, casting soft shadows across the tent’s walls. For a moment, he didn’t move - unsure if he was alive, or merely dreaming some cruel mirage.

Pain returned first. A deep ache in his ribs, sharp throb in his jaw, and the dull burn of bruises he could not yet see. 

He felt the weight of blankets - several of them - tucked around his body like a shroud. He felt too, the firm compression of bandages at his waist and shoulder. Someone had treated his wounds.

The last thing he remembered was sand in his mouth and blood on his tongue, then the glint of torches followed by scathing laughter and pain.

His breath quickened.

Was I taken again? Have I only traded one prison for another?

He tried to sit up, gasping at the pain that lanced through his side. He gritted his teeth as his body was forced back down onto the mat again, the strain too much to bear.

Moses took deep, measured breaths to draw his attention away from the pain and tried to focus on surveying the interior of the tent.

It was large and rectangular, with three posts holding it above him.

Moses could hear the faint creak of leather straps as the posts shifted in the breeze.

He lay still for a moment, staring at the weave of the ceiling, his thoughts swimming between clarity and the heavy fog of exhaustion.

He was alive. That much was certain. And yet, part of him had half expected - even welcomed, at the time - the idea that the beating in the desert would have been the last thing he’d feel.

But no - someone had pulled him from the sands. Someone had wrapped his ribs, bound his shoulder, and laid him beneath these blankets as though he mattered.

Satisfied he was in no immediate danger, Moses shifted the blankets off of his frame and began to inspect his body. Beneath the linen, his chest and arms were bandaged in layers, the white cloth stained here and there with the faint brown of dried blood. His skin was mottled with bruises - deep purple and red, some yellowing at the edges - a brutal map of the desert marauders’ cruelty.

His fingers brushed along the wrappings at his side. The tenderness there made him wince, and the ache in his jaw throbbed dully as if to remind him how close he had come to not waking at all.

He braced one hand on the low mat and tried again to push himself upright. His ribs protested sharply, and for a breath, the edges of his vision darkened. But he tightened his jaw and pushed through it until he was sitting.

Moses took some time to breathe before deciding he needed to get up fully - he had to know what awaited him beyond the tent.

To stay standing was a challenge would be an understatement. 

Moses’s knees buckled almost immediately, forcing him to catch himself against a wooden pole supporting the tent’s frame. He stayed there for a moment, forehead resting against the smooth grain, drawing in shaky, grounding breaths.

When he was certain his legs would hold, he crossed the short space to the flap of the tent. His fingers curled around the edge of the heavy fabric, and with a quiet breath, he pulled it open.

Sunlight spilled in, washing over his face and warming his skin.

The view beyond was peculiar - not like anything he had ever seen.

Bright colors, lively sounds, and the feeling of busyness surrounded him. He took in the view of the settlement stretched out in a small crescent of low, mud-brick homes and hide tents. 

Thin, wooden fences ringed it all, and beyond that lay only the open desert.

Moses continued to observe from his place in the tent and watched as men worked steadily at repairing nets, mending sandals, or leading goats along simple rope tethers. 

Women ground grain beneath shaded awnings or hung bright cloth to dry in the sun while children darted between them, shrieking with laughter.

There was simplicity to it, but also a deep, timeless tranquility.

Moses felt something in his chest tighten.

How many years… how many generations had I lived above such people, blind to the truth that this was possible? That life could be like this, without cruelty or chains?

The thought settled heavy in him. How many of the slaves in Memphis had ever known such a day? How many children had ever played without the constant shadow of labor and punishment?

His throat ached.

Someone passed by the tent just then -  a young woman carrying a basket of bread. At seeing his face, she quickly darted away and he heard the sudden shuffle of bare feet against sand and the excited chorus of younger voices somewhere nearby.

“He’s awake!” one of them called, high and bright.

The sound of the declaration startled him enough that he let the flap fall closed, retreating back into the dim shelter of the tent. He wasn’t sure if he should wait here or attempt to step outside, wary of what kind of welcome - or judgment - awaited him.

It wasn’t long before the flap parted again.

A tall, broad-shouldered man entered, his white beard billowing slightly as the breeze followed him inside. Behind him came several young women and girls, all with the same dark, watchful eyes, and one more woman - a familiar face.

Tzipporah.

Moses stiffened.

“Peace be upon you, traveler,” the man said warmly, taking notice of Moses’s tense demeanor.

The man inclined his head slowly. “I am Jethro, high priest of Midian and chief of this settlement.” He gestured to the group behind him “...and these are my daughters.”

Moses, still unsteady on his feet, inclined his head in return and the younger women giggled. A few of them even blushed slightly and looked away.

Tzipporah threw her eyes to the side - Moses couldn’t tell if it was in disapproval or amusement.

“My younger girls were at the watering hole when they saw your body lying in the sands,” Jethro continued. “It frightened them enough that they rushed home and we were able to retrieve you while you still had breath.”

Moses nodded. The man before him came off as warm and kind, but also commanded a sort of ethereal respect - it was quite a contrast compared to the Pharoah.

“Thank you.” Moses spoke, his voice cracking slightly at its dryness. “I am grateful for your care. Although…” He glanced at Tzipporah, some guilt panging in his heart. “I am unsure I’m worthy of it.”

Jethro smiled knowingly. “Nonsense - this is the very least we could do for the man who helped my daughter escape the city. You are very welcome here, Prince of Egypt.”

Moses glanced at Tzipporah, surprised he could be welcomed into her home after the way he had treated her. She simply looked on, studying him carefully.

Moses shook his head, his voice low. “I… am sorry for the trouble my presence caused her. I never meant -”

Jethro raised his hand and Moses ceased to speak. 

“Apologies are not necessary.” He smiled gently. “For her safe return, I thank you.” 

A beat of silence passed between them and Moses simply nodded, still uncertain he deserved this mercy.

Jethro continued. “You are among friends here. And while you heal, you will be our honored guest. Tonight, we’ll hold a feast in your honor!” His voice boomed and the women and girls behind him chattered excitedly.

The words honored guest sat strangely on his ears. But he did not have a convincing enough reason to refuse the man. Moses hesitated and glanced again toward Tzipporah, hoping she may show disdain for him enough that he could refuse. But there was no condemnation in her face - only a slight, quiet grin.

He had no choice but to accept.

Chapter Text

The stars came early over the desert, blooming like blossoms made of fire one by one in the indigo sky. Beneath them, the camp came alive with music, laughter, and the warmth of a dozen small fires.

Children weaved through the gathering with clay bowls and bread loaves balanced in their arms. Men passed cups of spirits between them while women served dishes from wide platters and tossed herbs into the flames for their scent.

Moses sat just outside the main tent on a woven mat laid with fruits, roasted vegetables, and a bowl of lentil stew. His body still ached, but his bandages had been freshly changed, and a woven cloak now lay warm over his shoulders.

He ate slowly, still feeling a bit unsure and uncomfortable among the strangers. After everything that had happened, he was wary and confidence greatly reduced from what it had been since his last moments in Memphis. He supposed that’s why it felt to awkward earlier when Jethro had referred to him as Prince of Egypt.

The man in question sat near the fire, hands folded, quietly observing the camp’s joy. The Midian priest seemed content simply to witness, like a weathered guardian statue. 

Moses hadn’t seen such a calm before.

To the man’s left was Tzipporah, who had not spoken to Moses much since his awakening. He now knew that she was Jethro’s oldest daughter, and had some time to watch how she interacted with the others in the settlement. 

It was clear she was a natural-born leader and had earned the respect of men and women alike.

To think that the nobles of Egypt would have had her reduced to less than a trinket.

Moses still carried guilt about it.

He watched on as one of her young sisters sat in front of her and she began to braid her hair.

The tenderness and attention between the sisters reminded him faintly of Ramses.

Just the gentleness of the interaction… the rightness of their proximity.

Suddenly the wind blew, and the warmth of the fire pivoted away from him, bringing a chill to the back of his neck.

He pulled the cloak tighter around him, doing little to fight the small, hollow feeling pulsing in his chest.

“You’re regaining your strength quickly,” a deep, resonating voice said.

Moses looked up to see the high priest taking a seat at his left. He nodded.

Jethro lifted a small tankard of wine and gestured towards the fire. “Good food and good people - they mend more than wounds.”

“I’m grateful,” Moses replied, voice quiet. “I hope I’ll be able to repay your kindness.”

The older man waved a gentle, but dismissive hand. “You owe us nothing,” he said. “But… I sense a weight on you. Perhaps one that not even our food can lift?”

Moses smirked lightly and set his bowl aside, staring into the flickering sparks of the fire. The shadows of the flames reached toward him as he thought.

He had only just met this man - his daughters - all of his people. And yet, he felt strangely at peace here. As if he could trust them with his very soul.

“Truth be told, there are many things that trouble me.” Moses admitted solemnly, and the light of the fire danced in the dark gleam of his eyes.

“Yes…” Jethro returned thoughtfully. “The life of man - both terrible and great - is laden with challenge.” He folded his hands gently in his lap. “Though of course, the heaviness of the challenge, the burdens we must carry - one must only choose to share them to lessen it.”

Moses stared deeply into the fire, pensive almost to the point of lulling himself into a trance. He was unaware as Tzipporah tilted her hear slightly and glanced in their direction, listening in from nearby.

“I’m afraid I can no longer risk sharing my burdens.” Moses sighed. “There was one with whom I had once, and it only led to disaster.”

Jethro hummed. “You seem to blame yourself for whatever befell you. But our fate is written in the stars - predetermined even before our first breaths. What you or your trusted one has suffered, there is a reason for it. Something that will lead you to be a better human, and take up a better place in life.”

“If it was predetermined that my life be this way, then I must have offended the Gods and damned to an existence of misery.”

Jethro closed his eyes, empathy and despair evident in his demeanor.

Tzipporah gently patted her sister on the head and sent her off, then moved to sit on the other side of Moses.

She placed a soft hand on his shoulder, the touch pulling him away from the enchanting dance of the flames.

“If I were to ask, would you tell me your life has been nothing but woe from the day you were born? That you truly never enjoyed a moment of peace, happiness, or love over the many years you’ve been alive?”

So many thoughts jumped to Moses’s head. The love he had received from his Mother, and pride bestowed upon him by Seti - the days in the sun with Ramses. How they chased each other, laughed, teased… loved. 

No… He thought to himself. To say I hadn’t been blessed when I had him in my life would be a discredit to all he means to me.

When Moses did not respond, Tzipporah continued.

“On the night we met, I thought you were the most conceited man I had ever known. But only hours later, I saw there was goodness in you when you helped to set me free.” Tzipporah placed her fingers on the side of his jaw and beckoned him to meet her eyes.

“To claim damnation on your life is to throw away all the good you’ve done unto others, and all the good they’ve done to you.” She let her hand fall from his face as they held each other’s gaze.

“As my father says, suffering is not without reason. With it - through it - we learn, and we grow. Is there not something your pain gave you that you would truly be better off without?”

Moses contemplated the implication.

What had he learned through the trials of months past?

Before… he was living blindly.

He did not see the struggle of the slaves nor hear their cries for help. He did not know he wasn’t born privileged, only thought that respect and awe was owed him.

He did not know he was born a slave - he did not know his siblings were more than a single, royal brother.

And perhaps just as important as the rest, he didn’t know that Ramses loved him - and he never would have.

It was true what she said - the challenges he’d faced and scars he’d earned revealed so much more than his quiet life as a Prince ever would. So, perhaps they were right. Perhaps this had to happen.

And now, now he was free. 

Free in a way that made him cold - free in a way that made him lost - but for the first time ever, he could see everything completely clear.

He had thought that to change Egypt and save his people, he had to rely on power - power he did not believe he himself could wield.

He looked to Ramses and depended on him to be the one to orchestrate change.

But power wasn’t what he needed.

He needed strength of will, bravery, and selflessness.

Moses could have acted boldly, could have spoken up and encouraged the change, but instead he whispered talk of ideas in shadowed corners and quiet places.

He had been afraid, then - a coward. But now could be different.

Moses stared up at the stars, thinking about his home. Not Memphis, not the palace or the lower towns where he’d been born a slave - neither were right.

His home was Ramses… just Ramses. His arms, his presence. 

He had to thank him - had to apologise for putting so much on his shoulders while he sat in his shadow.

Ramses had shown courage where Moses had none. He took on his burdens and calmed him, not stopping to consider the weight he already carried on his back. 

If his life was written in the stars, one piece of his story had already become clear, and that was that the Prince Regent would always be in it.

“I have to return to Memphis,” Moses said at last.

Chapter Text

Jethro looked at the young man beside him and smiled slightly at his resolve.

“The capital city is quite a distance from here, young Prince.” He said. “I’m afraid you will need to stay and heal, for a time.”

Moses nodded. He would need all his strength on the day he returned.

Unasked questions lingered in the air as the fire began to die, bringing their discussions to an end.

“For now, it is time to rest.” Jethro remarked. “Tzipporah, if you could help the Prince back to his tent - show him the way.” He asked.

Tzipporah nodded as Moses’s voice quietly rose towards the wizened man.

“Moses…” He offered.

Tzipporah’s eyes widened slightly and Jethro smiled again.

“I wish you a restorative slumber, Moses.”

…

Moses slept peacefully that night. His mind was devoid of thought as it lingered in the realm of unconsciousness, and when he opened his eyes to the gentle, filtered sunlight coming through the woven fabric of the tent, it remained blank.

He blinked as small particles of dust danced playfully in the rays of light and his ears adjusted to the sounds of life already meeting the morning air just beyond the tent walls.

Tzipporah was the first face to greet him.

“You’re awake.” She stated as she entered the tent with a small plate of food and clay pitcher.

Moses sat up, his body protesting loudly at the movement as he adjusted.

“So I am.” He responded.

Tzipporah set down her things on a short table near the entrance of the tent and fetched a roll of bandages before approaching him.

“Can I change your dressings?” She asked.

Moses nodded. “I’d be grateful for the help.”

Tzipporah quietly went about removing, washing, and replacing the bandages on Moses’s body. Her hands were deft as she completed the task, only causing Moses to flinch once when she tied a knot with the gauze around his ribs.

“Ah..!” Moses cried suddenly. 

“...Sorry.” She muttered.

“Was that payback?” Moses asked jokingly.

Tzipporah smirked.

“If it was?” She asked.

Moses let out a small laugh. “Well, I’d say I deserved it.”

Tzipporah finished her work and came around to the front of him, sitting on the edge of the mat.

“The night when you distracted the guards to keep them from finding me, I knew there was a sliver of good in you, but now…” She thought her words over for a moment. “Well, you just seem very different.”

Moses rubbed the back of his head guiltily.

“Well… A lot has changed since then.”

Tzipporah nodded. “So it seems… Can I ask you something?”

Moses nodded.

“What exactly… happened to you?” She asked earnestly.

Moses wanted to laugh at how complicated the answer to such a simple question was.

But he told her - he didn’t know why. 

He explained how the night she had gone he learned he was born a slave, how he had been advised to forget and be content with his life, how the toil of the slaves became clear to him, how he hoped to help them through the Prince Regent - his brother Ramses - and how he could no longer stand to see the injustice of it all.

The only thing he kept out was Ramses’s declaration of love for him and the events related specifically to it. Recapping their separation in such detail was too painful.

“I see.” She said at last. “The Pharoah had you removed from Memphis because you wanted to change the lives for the slaves…”

Moses sighed wearily. “That’s the heart of it.”

Tzipporah stood and stretched. “You know, you’re lucky he didn’t just kill you.”

“I know.” Moses replied. “I so often wondered why he hadn’t.”

Tzipporah chose not to comment on it further and crossed the room to get a cup of water for them both.

“If your goal is to free your people from slavery, then why do you seem so insistent on returning to Memphis? I would think you need time not only to heal, but to come up with a plan, perhaps gather resources, and even followers before you return to fight.”

Moses shook his head. “No, I’m not intending to wage a war. All that will accomplish is death, and it would all be on my hands.”

“I understand that force is never desirable, but is there any other way to win their freedom?”

Moses wasn’t sure there was, but… “I have to try.” He answered, taking a long, drawn sip from his cup.

Tzipporah narrowed her eyes at him cautiously.

“What do you plan to do?” She asked.

“I need to have an audience with my father… With enough discussion, he may come to understand-”

“Moses…” Tzipporah chastised. “He had you kidnapped in the middle of the night and whisked away to a storehouse in the middle of the desert just because you whispered those ideas in the halls of the palace.”

“I know, but-”

“No, that train of thought is incredibly naive. I’m not helping nurse you back to help just to see you get yourself killed.”

“Tzipporah, I have to go back.” He insisted.

“I understand, but perhaps after you’ve come up with something more. This plan of yours as it is now… It’s-”

“Tzipporah.” Moses cut in, voice low. “I’m going back.”

Her eyes widened at his suddenly loud, stubborn insistence. 

“Is that the only reason?” She asked suddenly.

Moses looked at her, startled. “What?”

“To talk to your father, to free your people. Is that the only reason you’re pressing to be so reckless and return as soon as you’re physically able?” She tilted her head slightly. “To risk yourself like this… to walk back into a lion’s den just to speak a few words? There must be more to it.”

Moses swallowed. This woman held many qualities, and perception certainly was one.

“There is.” She said affirmingly when Moses did not reply. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Moses ran a palm down his face and held it there, as if shielding his gaze would keep her from knowing all his secrets.

He sighed deeply, feeling the unspoken weight of expectation pressing in on him.

“Yes…” He replied finally. “There is another reason… There’s someone still there. Someone I…” He paused and let his hand fall from his face. “My brother, Ramses.”

Tzipporah’s expression shifted to one of quiet surprise.

“The Prince Regent?” She asked. “He means so much to you that you would face certain death to see him again?”

“Yes.” Moses answered without hesitation. “I’d do anything.”

Chapter Text

The halls of the palace seemed darker tonight than ever before. 

Though torches flickered in their sconces as Ramses passed, his expression was drawn in one of determination and apprehension, casting shadows of its own to those around him.

He made his way to the familiar door and dismissed the guards with a sharp nod. Why they continued to stand guard there while the primary occupant was missing, he didn’t know.

The wooden door creaked faintly as he opened it, stepping into Moses’s chambers for the first time in weeks.

Just as before, the room was still.

Everything remained in its place. Shelves stacked neatly with scrolls, the basin by the far wall filled with still water. Even the bed was perfectly made - and it bothered him to no end that it hadn’t been touched once since that night.

He pushed the morose thoughts away and focused on the task at hand. He wanted to investigate the room again, see if there was something he could’ve missed. Miriam had said the servant heard a crashing sound… There has to be some sort of evidence of that.

Ramses stepped into the room farther, his eyes scanning every surface. He dropped to a slow crouch and swept his fingers along the floor near the doorway - hoping to find some sort of evidence of damage etched into the stone, though unlikely.

He stood again and thought for a moment that ironically, Moses would probably be better at this than he was 

The smile the thought brought to his face faded quickly as reality returned to weigh down on him again. 

He thought about the day they had shared together before he disappeared. How Moses returned to his chambers at the end of it all.

What would he have done next…? Ramses pondered.

Ramses himself had decided to rest for the night. He returned to his chambers, dressed down, then laid awake in bed reminiscing before drifting off into sleep.

He wandered to Moses’s untouched bed and dared to stir its stillness by sitting at its edge. He thought about how it all could have happened. 

To be taken in the middle of the night with so little word of a struggle… It meant Moses must have been ambushed - attacked in the middle of the night with no warning, no way to fight. 

Ramses gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. The thought filled him with absolute unyielding fury. 

He took a moment to breathe - his anger wouldn't help Moses. 

After some time, Ramses stood again, his foot sliding to the side slightly and knocking a tall candle holder at the end of Moses’s bed. 

It teetered in place, unbalanced, and Ramses reached out to steady it before it fell.

It must've been fate, because that's the only reason he noticed.

Ramses brushes his fingers across the candlestick he held - it was dented. 

Something so slight, yet he knew the imperfection couldn't have always been there - the goods in royal quarters were always of the highest quality - it wouldn't have been placed here with a defect.

Ramses kneeled to the ground and felt again, this time noticing a difference.

Faint marks - a few shallow scuffs in the stone - almost invisible beneath the shifting light of torches on the walls.

The dent and damage to the floor were so easy to miss - he already had, once - but together, they painted a very different picture than the one he had been led to believe.

Ramses exhaled slowly, his heart sinking deeper into his chest.

The evidence of it all pointed to the fact that Miriam was telling the truth. But if it were so… the thought made him sick.

The pharaoh's words rang out in his mind. Too much leniency will cause those beneath us to forget their place… Now you see first-hand the consequences of your actions.

Ramses’s fists clenched at his sides. He didn’t want to believe it - couldn’t.

But the pieces were aligning, and they pointed in one direction.

The only man with the authority, the reach, and the reason to send Moses away.

Pharaoh Seti.

His father.

Ramses had never anticipated he would feel such a sense of betrayal - especially not from the man he had so long aspired to be.

In an instant, everything he felt for his father was in question.

He had lied to him, betrayed him, and betrayed Moses. He was even willing to claim his younger son had died rather than reveal his hand.

But Ramses knew the truth now, and with just a bit more evidence, he would have all he needed to confront his father.

Chapter Text

The door to Moses’s chambers shut behind him with a soft click, muffled by the silence that pressed in around Ramses like a shroud.

None of it was enough. Not truly . The word of a slave and a slight imperfection in polished metal - it would never hold weight against the authority of the Pharaoh. Confronting him now, with nothing but suspicion and fear in his heart, would do nothing but cost him the only advantage he had - that his father wasn’t aware Ramses knew of his treachery. 

Showing his hand too early could mean the difference between life and death for Moses - if he was still alive.

Ramses had to believe it.

He turned and began walking purposefully through the stone halls of the palace, torch casting long shadows that warped along the walls. Servants passed him silently, bowing as they always did, and still the silence screamed louder than anything.

He rounded the corner at the end of the hall which led to the slavemaster’s quarters. He would request an audience with Miriam this time, ask if she had more information, and tell her that what she had shared with him, he believed to be right. 

A palace guard stood just outside the slavemaster’s quarters, and Ramses issued the order to him.

“Tell the slavemaster that I wish to see the one known as Miriam at once. I’ll be located in the gardens.”

The guard stood stiff and nodded, “Yes, your highness.”

Ramses began walking to their meeting place where he would wait - hopeful there was more to learn from the bold woman he had summoned.

A request from a royal could never be ignored, but Ramses was surprised when it was less than fifteen minutes before the garden gate creaked open, and the slave woman stepped through, head bowed.

Ramses stood and turned to receive her, the firelight from the nearby brazier glinting off her dark hair and that of a figure behind her.

The man who followed was someone Ramses had never seen before. He was taller than Miriam, and his posture was tense and defensive - eyes quick to scan their surroundings like a cornered animal looking for an escape.

Ramses’s expression hardened immediately. 

“Who is this?” he demanded, stepping forward and eyeing the man coldly.

Miriam quickly lowered herself to her knees in respect, but the man remained upright for a beat too long before begrudgingly kneeling beside her.

“This is my brother, Aaron, Your Highness,” Miriam said quickly. “He insisted on coming when he learned I was meeting you again.”

“I did not ask for him,” Ramses said. “Why is he here?”

Aaron raised his chin slightly - not enough to be insolent - but enough for it to be seen he was speaking. 

“Because she’s too bold, your highness.” He said, his voice clipped. “I hadn’t known about her prior plans to meet you, and I’m worried for her safety.”

Ramses’s gaze narrowed. “Are you suggesting that you believe my intentions are threatening?”

“No, your highness!” Aaron responded quickly. “It is just that even when others intend good, bad things may befall a slave regardless. I only want to ensure she remembers her place, for her own safety.” Aaron replied with a measured tone.

Ramses glanced between them. The protectiveness in Aaron’s stance made it obvious how much he cared for his sister. He wondered… would he feel the same way for Moses - the brother he once knew?

And Miriam - Aaron was right in that she was bold, perhaps often not to her own benefit - but she reminded Ramses of someone.

Of Moses.

She had the same fire - the same fearlessness in the face of power.

And… the willingness to throw herself in harm’s way for the people she loved.

Ramses rubbed his brow lightly and smirked. “He was like that, too.” He muttered.

Miriam’s gaze softened and Aaron cocked his head, unbalanced by the Prince Regent’s lack of formality.

“You may rise.” Ramses said, stepping out of his nostalgia to address his reasons for summoning them. “I summoned you here to exchange information - no more. As for the threat of danger,” he said, eyeing Aaron. “I can assure you I have no ill will.”

Miriam rose without hesitation, and Aaron followed suit - albeit still uncertainly.

“I looked into your claims,” Ramses began, facing the woman. “I found evidence that points to the idea that Moses was taken in the night.”

The siblings stiffened, standing with their full attention on his words.

“The crashing sound you described - I believe it was the candelabra next to his bedside. It’s damaged - and goods like that don’t make it into the palace, especially in royal quarters. Paired with your claim that the unknown men traveling through the city that night were palace guards - I can see no other explanation. Now, I only need to confirm that is true as well.”

Aaron sighed. “You don’t believe her?” he asked. “After the risk she took to tell you what she knew?”

“Aaron…” Miriam chastised quietly.

Ramses lifted a hand. “It’s not that I don’t believe her - it's that the word of a slave regardless of my support still would not stand against the Pharaoh. I need irrefutable proof if I am to publicly approach my father.”

Aaron stood in shock, clearly terrified to be hearing such blasphemous words.

Miriam didn’t waver. “I understand. I’m grateful you considered my words enough to look into them seriously, so thank you, your highness.”

She nodded her head forward as Aaron flailed a bit at her side, clearly uncomfortable with how easy it had become for Miriam to address the Prince Regent.

“No, if there’s one thing I’ve learned from this, it’s that your station does not define your honor.” Ramses stated.

Aaron sighed through his nose and exchanged a quick glance between the two of them. What he was seeing was truly foreign.

“In any case,” Ramses continued. “I wanted to ask for your assistance again.”

Miriam stood straight. “I’ll do whatever I can to help make sure Moses is safe.”

Aaron flinched at hearing the titleless name, but Ramses wouldn’t condemn her now - not as he had before.

“If Moses is alive, they have to be keeping him somewhere. And as with any imprisonment, then there has to be some kind of sign of it - inconsistencies in logs of the food stores or water rations, or perhaps a new, unnoticed rotating guard.”

Aaron flinched - and it did not go unnoticed.

“Aaron?” Miriam asked quizzically.

“Hmm. What?” He asked, not so covertly.

“What's wrong?” Miriam pressed.

“Nothing. There’s nothing.”

“Did something I say prompt your memory?” Ramses insisted.

“Not… especially.” He deflected.

“ Aaron .” Miriam shoved an elbow into his side.

The older brother winced slightly and sighed. “Your insistence to get us involved in this mess is going to land us an early death - I mean, even earlier than I expected.”

“If you know something, say it now.” Ramses warned. “If you don’t, the two of you may die as soon as tomorrow if my father decides to begin punishing your people to cover up his misdeeds.”

The threat was unnecessarily heavy, but had the intended effect.

Aaron stood stricken with fear, and relented.

“It’s - it’s not much.” He prefaced. “It’s only that recently on my way home - just an hour or so before sundown - two palace guards and a servant have been leaving the city. It’s something that is still relatively new, but I didn’t think much of it.”

Miriam’s eyes widened. “Aaron, why didn’t you tell me this?”

“Because, Miriam. I was afraid of what you’d do with it. I don’t want to be filling your head with crazy ideas - if it’s the palace guard, or anything to do with anyone besides other slaves in the first place - it’s better to keep your head down and ears closed.”

As the two siblings quarreled, Ramses’s thoughts were racing.

If it’s true, and there’s a nightly guard leaving the city, the chances they are going to Moses is extremely high. He… He really may be alive.

“Where?” Ramses asked suddenly, interrupting their banter.

“T-the eastern wall.” Aaron continued, stricken by the seriousness in the Prince Regent’s tone. “They should have already left by now, though.”

“How long ago? And what’s their mode of travel?”

“An hour, maybe more.” He confirmed. “They ride horseback.”

Ramses didn’t exchange parting words as he rushed past the pair and exited the garden.

His mind was set on getting to the stables and following - tracing that thin thread of possibility that trailing the deployment would lead him straight to Moses again.

I’ll go myself, this time. He thought. And I won’t stop until I find him.

Chapter Text

The sun had set a few hours ago and Tzipporah was by Moses’s side, removing his bandages for the final time.

He had not fully healed - his ribs still ached in the morning and his steps were stiff by nightfall - but the worst of his pain had long since passed and the wounds on his face had faded from deep, gnarly purple to light yellowed bruises. The broken skin on his back and hands had finally scabbed over too.

For now, he moved slower than he once did, but he could move - and that was enough.

In return for the shelter and care he’d received, Moses offered what little help he could. 

When he was strong enough, he hauled small buckets of water from the well, helped grind herbs for the healers, carried planks and baskets - anything that kept him moving and kept his thoughts from returning to those lonely, desolate corners of his mind.

The now weeks spent with the Midians made him appreciate their quiet, peaceful way of life and the simpleness to it. 

How nice it would be, if I could bring this to my people . He thought, though he was certain that based on how well his ideas were received before, if he continued down that path once he returned to Memphis he would place himself and even Ramses in the way of further harm.

Moses sat cross-legged on his mat, thinking as Tzipporah crossed the room to dispose of his wrappings.

Although he was so sure of it before, inside he had wavered occasionally on his decision to return to the Palace. It wasn’t because his determination to help the slaves was waning, but because his concern for Ramses and desire to keep him safe was growing.

The longer he spent away from him, the more he wanted to be by his side - but at the same time, he knew his distance and lack of interference with the affairs of the capital was keeping Ramses safe.

Moses sighed and rubbed his temples.

Tzipporah didn’t miss the signs of distress.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, making her way across the room to him again.

“Nothing.” Moses replied lazily.

Tzipporah shot him a look, one eyebrow raised as if to say ‘ I don’t believe that for a second.’

You’re thinking about the Prince Regent, aren’t you?”

Moses snorted lightly. “You’ve come to know me rather well.”

“Well, if there’s anything I’ve learned about you during your time here, it’s that your love for him is not merely superficial. Whenever you seem distressed, it seems like it’s always him on your mind.”

Moses laughed. “Yes, well. You’re right. There isn’t a day I go without thinking about him.”

“...So what’s the matter?” She asked, slowly lowering herself on the mat next to him.

“I was just thinking that if I go back… it may put him in danger this time.”

“You think the Pharaoh would harm his own son?” She pressed.

Moses looked Tzipporah in the eye, wordlessly stating the obvious. 

“Right… But I mean, his heir?”

He turned his gaze away and thought for a moment. “I don’t know, really. But if I went back and my father decided to do away with me for good, I don’t know what Ramses would do. They could start a feud - one that I assume would be bloody and long. They are both particularly stubborn men, after all.”

“I see.” Tzipporah commented. “So you’re afraid that while the Pharaoh may not harm him directly, it may happen through other means.”

“Yes, I suppose.” Moses confirmed. “But I don’t want to give up on my people - the only way to help them is to return. I’m just… afraid of the risks.”

“Of losing him?” She whispered.

“...Yes.” Moses replied.

Tzipporah scooted closer to Moses and brought his head to rest on her shoulder. Her long strands of bejeweled hair fell around him as he leaned into her.

“I’m sorry. This decision is not an easy one.” She sympathised.

Moses nodded slightly. “I just don’t know if it’s more selfish to go, or to stay.”

Tzipporah ran a comforting hand over his shoulderblades, following a small, back and fourth pattern to draw warmth to the places she touched.

“Do you think Ramses loves you the way you love him?” She asked, for once forgoing his title.

Moses hummed slightly, thinking.

The memory of Ramses’s voice - his touch, the heat of his presence - it returned to him in droves.

Moses never would have thought the two would become close in this way, and since the day they were separated he was left with an ache in his chest he couldn’t hope to close without him.

“He was the one who said as much first, actually.” Moses recounted with a smirk. “He said he wants me with him… always.” 

Tzipporah smiled. “Then he probably misses you a great deal.” She said.

“So you think I should go back?”

Tzipporah sighed lightly and took a careful breath. “I think… that he would want you there. That if he is the kind of person you say he is, he’s probably been looking for you all this time.”

Moses tensed, emotion welling up inside him.

“You think so?” He asked, the firelight of the nearby lantern dancing a lonely, red solo and casting the light onto the tent walls.

“Yeah.” She whispered.

Moses couldn’t help but feel the tears well up in his eyes.

Oh how he hoped it was true - that even now, Ramses was holding onto the hope that Moses was alive and they would be reunited.

He held his tears in place - he didn’t want to cry - it would only make him feel Ramses’s absence that much more.

“I want to see him.” Moses sniffed. “I know I should be going back for the people - to do right by them and try to make amends for the wrongs I've done. But really… really I just want to be by his side.”

Tzipporah pulled him closer and he trembled slightly, trying desperately to hold himself together against the great forces that pulled at his heart.

“You’re a good man, Moses.” She commented. “You have much love to give, and in a few more days you should be almost completely healed.”

She paused and gently nudged him off of her shoulder to look him in the eyes. “When you are ready, I will lead you to him again.”

Moses closed his eyes and bowed his head forward, trying still to keep his tears at bay.

“Thank you, Tzipporah.” He whispered.

Chapter Text

The moon was sinking now, dragging the stars lower into the haze above the dunes. 

Ramses had made his way through the Eastern gate on the back of his stallion only an hour ago and raced along the trail the guards had left before him, using a lantern to show the way.

After galloping for some time, he came to a brisk halt when he saw the group he had been trailing highlighted by the moon on the horizon.

Ramses extinguished his lantern and continued on, slowing his horse to a careful trot as he followed silently until a large, squared silhouette came into view.

It was a building - rough, and made from stone which rose like a foreign article in the sand. 

The group had stopped in front of the building and went inside.

Ramses’s heart clenched.

Is this where they’re keeping him? He thought. In a hovel made of stone?

Ramses halted in the shadow of a dune and slipped from his horse’s back without a sound.

He walked towards the building and saw a light piercing through the darkness on the other side.

Ramses moved closer to it and the voices grew louder.

He stopped beneath a small, square and narrow window which had been chiseled directly into the stone. 

The voices he had heard were clearer now, and had burst into laughter.

Ramses slid up against the wall and carefully peered inside.

Three guards lounged around a crude wooden table strewn with smooth game pieces and small piles of coin. Two more guards and a servant stood near the door - presumably the group he had followed here.

One of the men seated at the table passed a bottle to the men standing - the liquid inside sloshing as it was roughly transferred from one hand to another.

Ramses continued to look for signs that Moses had been there - scanning the room from top to bottom in hopes there would be something. 

In the corner was a bed, clean and freshly made - opposite that was a washbasin, then shelves with scrolls and neatly folded cloths - a table set with fruit and bread. 

None of it was typical for a guard station, and if it had been some sort of outpost, why hadn’t he been made aware of it? 

Ramses frowned.

Then, his eyes caught on something on the far shelf - just beside the stacked scrolls.

A thin, gold ring around some sort of black -

Ramses froze - his breath catching in his throat.

Moses’s hairpiece.

Rage ignited in Ramses’s chest, fast and hot. His blood pounded in his ears. The game table, the laughter, the stolen piece in this desolate place - it all fueled his rampage as he turned sharply from the window and strode to the front of the building, fists clenched.

With no thoughts to the contrary, he raised his leg and slammed his heel into the door.

The old wood cracked open with a thundering crash, the hinges shrieking in protest as the door swung wide and slammed into the interior wall.

The laughter inside died instantly.

The guards shot to their feet, scrambling for weapons, only to stop cold at the sight of the man in the doorway.

Ramses’s silhouette filled the frame, the robe he had taken from the stable whipping furiously about in the desert wind, allowing the moonlight to catch the blade at his hip and the glint of wrath in his eyes.

“ Where is Moses ?!” he roared.

No one spoke.

The servant dropped the bottle of liquor he had been given to hold which shattered loudly, echoing across the stone walls.

The five guards stared in stunned silence, caught between disbelief and terror.

Ramses took a step forward, each word a blade: “You dare to lie to the Prince Regent? You dare to imprison a son of Pharaoh? Answer me now, or by Ra, I will strike each of you down where you stand!”

The guard closest to him stammered, “Y-your Highness, we - we don’t know -”

“ Don’t insult my intelligence!” Ramses snarled, his voice thunderous. “You were seen leaving the city that night - I know what it is you carried and I have seen evidence of his presence with my own eyes! Where is he?!”

One of the guards tried to speak again, but his words fumbled and died beneath Ramses’s furious glare.

The Prince Regent didn’t hesitate to pull the blade from his side.

“ Speak . ” Ramses said, placing the point of the blade to the nearest guard’s chest. His voice was deadly quiet now, the false calm seeping with more warning of danger than any shout. “Where. Is. Moses?”

The guard looked at the others, pale and stammering. The servant had already backed into the corner, pressing himself flat against the stone.

“I - I swear to you, Your Highness,” he choked, hands trembling where they hovered above his waist, “we - we were following orders.”

Ramses took a step forward. “Whose orders?” He asked, though he was sure he already knew.

The guard swallowed thickly. “The Pharaoh’s.”

Ramses’s grip tightened on the hilt.

“The night the prince disappeared,” another guard offered quickly, sweat beading at his temple, “We were ordered to remove him from the palace and bring him here. No one else was to know. We were told he was a… a threat to the crown. That he needed to be - kept away.”

“So you shackled him like a criminal and left him to rot in the desert?!” Ramses’s voice shook with barely restrained fury.

“We - he wasn’t mistreated, Your Highness,” the first guard insisted, though he shrank back beneath Ramses’s advancing blade. “We were told to care for him. Feed him. Keep him safe - but hidden.”

“ Safe ?” Ramses barked a bitter laugh, dropping his blade sharply to the floor. “I see. So if you’re just carrying out your orders, then he must be here, isn’t that so?” He asked, and the guards exchanged glances.

“W-well…” A third guard, a young looking man with dirty brown hair, finally spoke. “He escaped.”

“ What ?”

“A few -” the young man began, barely above a whisper. “A few weeks ago, he -”

“A few weeks ?!” Ramses demanded.

The man was too terrified to continue speaking and stood petrified, face grown pale with terror. 

“Please, your highness,” the first guard spoke again. “He’d knocked out one of the guards and slipped into the night. We did try to track him, but…” He faltered. “We - couldn’t find him.”

The world blurred at the edges of Ramses’s vision.

“You lost him…” he said slowly. “You let him run off into the desert alone - unarmed and unprepared - and yet still , you lost him?”

None of the guards spoke.

Ramses’s fury built until he couldn’t contain it. 

With a deep, anguished yell, he swept his sword across the table, shattering the clay cups and game pieces and sending coins flying against the walls.

“Because of your incompetence - the Prince could be dead!” He seethed.

He turned on them again, blade lifted high, but for a moment - just a moment - his hand trembled.

Dead.

The word echoed in his skull like a drumbeat.

He staggered a step backward, dropping the point of the blade to the floor.

“Get out of my sight,” he growled. “Before I make your blood pay the price for your failure.”

The guards didn’t need to be told twice. They fled the room, boots pounding against stone, the servant vanishing with them into the darkness.

Ramses stood alone now in the flickering half-light, chest heaving.

He looked again at the hairpiece on the shelf, his hand reaching for it with reverence. He turned the gold hook over in his palm, then clenched his fist around it.

“You’re not dead,” he whispered. “You can’t be... You can’t be.”

But in truth, he didn’t know.

And that uncertainty burned more than any wound.

Chapter Text

The great doors of the throne room slammed open just as the sun had risen in the morning sky.

Ramses strode in without fanfare, dust clinging to the hem of his robes, his eyes hard and fixed on the man seated at the top of the marble steps. Tuya was already there, standing beside Seti with a grave expression, her brows drawn tight in concern.

The court was not filled then, but all the bodies present stilled at the Prince Regent’s sudden appearance.

Seti raised his chin at the sight of his son, regal and unmoved. “So,” he said. “You return.”

Ramses came to a halt just before the dais. His voice was low and thunderous. “If you know where I’ve gone, then you must know what I’ve learned.” Ramses took a breath. “ How could you , father? Why did you send him away? Why did you lie to me about his death?” He asked, half blaming, half lamenting over the words.

A flicker passed over the Pharaoh’s face - brief, like a shadow of something far more human than he ever allowed to surface - then it vanished.

“I did what I must,” he said calmly.

Tuya turned to look Ramses. “Please, don’t quarrel with him, Ramses,” she said softly. Her tone was heartbreak, barely veiled.

“You too, Mother? You knew?” Ramses said painfully. “Must I be betrayed by all those by whom I thought I was loved?”

The Queen’s face fell, sadness worn clear in her expression. It was obvious that Moses’s banishment was something she did not condone herself, but felt she lacked the ability to overturn.

“Well I hope you’re pleased with the outcome of your plan.” Ramses said coldly. “Because when I found where you were keeping him, he wasn’t there.”

The royal couple’s eyes widened.

“What was the point in imprisoning him just to let him wander off into the desert? Because of you, he may be -” Ramses’s voice cracked, he didn’t want to say the words out loud.

The Pharaoh turned to glare at the guards who had followed Ramses into the room - they stood cowed, and by their wavering statures, he knew what his son said was true.

Seti furrowed his brow, and though he would never admit it aloud, he feared that his actions may have been a mistake.

“My intentions in separating you from your brother was only to protect the interests of the dynasty.” He began. “His soft heart, particularly concerning the slaves, was a threat to the stability of the kingdom, and Egypt does not bend to sentiment.”

“I know you would not share his ideals, father. But Moses is a good-natured, kind man, and my intention was to have him by my side when I take up the throne in my time. You had no right to -”

Seti’s eyes flashed, and he stood. “I had every right!” His voice thundered. “You were blinded by love and weakness - and I will not let that love make a mockery of our kingdom.”

“You already have!” Ramses rose his voice at his father fiercely for the first time and a wave of stunned silence washed through the chamber. Tuya’s breath caught audibly, and even the guards shifted uneasily.

Seti stared down at his son and Ramses met his gaze without flinching.

“I believed you,” Ramses continued. “I believed that everything you taught me - honor, discipline, loyalty - meant something. But now I see it was only loyalty to you - not to Egypt or its people - and certainly not to your family.”

“You will hold your tongue!” Seti roared.

“No - I won’t.” Ramses stood his ground and the Pharaoh’s face froze.“I’m not your servant and I will no longer be led by the hand of a dishonest man.” Ramses said, stepping forward.

Seti stood still, surprised. Never had his son spoken so brashly to him - he didn’t know what to say.

“I am your son, yes. But I am also the Prince Regent of Egypt, and my claim on the throne will be respected, as shall my wish to bring my brother back home.”

Pharaoh Seti ground his teeth while Tuya exhaled shakily, her hand pressed to her lips.

When his father didn’t reply, Ramses decided to press his boldness even further.

He turned to the line of guards standing along the walls. “Send out our riders - search beyond the outpost and follow the desert trails. You will find Moses, and you will bring him home.”

The guards hesitated, uncertain, and their eyes flicked to the Pharaoh.

Seti stood silently and stared at Ramses.

The tension between them stretched until it was thick with oppression.

Then, with a slight incline of his head, Seti gave his approval.

That was all the guards needed.

They turned and left the chamber at a run, their sandals striking the polished stone like thunder as they went to carry out Ramses’s order.

The Prince Regent stepped down from the dais without a word, making his way for the grand doors again.

“Ramses,” Seti called at last, his voice dry with disdain. “You’ve chosen the hardest path - one that may well destroy you, Moses, and all of Egypt with you.”

Ramses didn’t look back.

“Egypt is enduring, father.” Ramses said, “It is only you that cannot handle the change.”

And with that, he left, leaving the throne room in stunned silence behind him.

Chapter Text

The morning sun cast warm golden light across the dunes as the Midian settlement stirred to life.

The scent of herbs and fresh bread lingered in the air, drifting from stone ovens while families gathered for the first meal of the day. Children’s laughter echoed faintly between the low huts, and nearby animals bleated lazily in the gentle warmth.

Moses stood near the edge of the settlement, hands dipped into a clay basin of water. His fingers traced the line of his jaw, now hidden beneath a scruff of new growth. 

The bruises on his ribs had faded to dusky shadows, and the ache in his limbs had mostly disappeared. Today, for the first time since waking in a tent that was not his own, he felt like he might stand tall again.

He held a thin blade to his face - it was dulled from years of use, but it was enough. 

Moses shaved in silence, wiping the blade clean against a cloth and studying his reflection in the still water. 

The man who stared back was not the prince who had left Memphis - his hair was longer, his natural bronze curls hanging loose only a few fingers width above his shoulders.

He wondered how Ramses would tease him if he saw him now. He always had joked about his very un-royal head of hair - never cruelly, of course - just in a kind of friendly, goading way that Moses found himself missing.

Behind him, soft footsteps crunched on small rocks in the sand. 

“You missed a spot,” came Tzipporah’s voice lightly.

He smiled faintly and touched his chin. “No I didn’t.”

She laughed comfortably. “You look much less like a desert nomad now. Perhaps instead like someone who might be remembered in the palace.”

He shook his head, gently. “I’d rather not be remembered by everyone in the palace,” he said.

“Just the Prince Regent?” She asked.

Moses nodded. “Yes, just Ramses - though I'm sure I won’t escape my Mother’s gaze, should it land on me.”

Tzipporah stilled, mood falling somewhat sullen. “Moses, I know I told you I would lead you to Memphis again - and I would never go back on my word,” she began. “But… are you sure you’re ready?”

It was an inquiry out of sincere concern for the man, and Moses knew it.

He smiled gently at her. “Thank you, Tzipporah. For everything you and your family has done for me. You don’t need to worry though - I’m ready. I won’t be returning with wounds or the need to have you patch me up again.”

He playfully jabbed an elbow at her side and she pushed him away.

“You are one of the most reckless, stubborn men I have ever met.” She laughed.

“It’s not the first time I’ve been told that, and it won’t be the last.” Moses replied. 

They walked together to a communal table where warm bread was served, and clay jugs of water and milk were passed down the row of people. 

Moses sat beside Tzipporah, tearing his bread slowly, savoring every bite of it as Jethro’s daughters chittered and laughed amongst themselves.

He let his eyes travel across the people who had taken him in so freely. Their kindness still overwhelmed him - the peace they had earned, defended, and quietly lived was something he would miss, but the pull to return to Ramses was greater than this.

He was ready, and his resolve finally drawn.

Today was the day he would leave, and with any luck, reunite again with the man he loved most.

When the meal was nearly done, Jethro stood from the end of the table and approached.

He held a bundle in his hands - a deep red cloak, woven with gold thread at the edge and fastened with a small bone clasp. 

“You’ll need this,” the elder said, draping it across Moses’s shoulders with a fatherly kind of care. “You’ll find the wind to be a little less friendly as you ride.”

Moses stood and faced him, feeling bashful again by the kindness shown him. “I… I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You already have,” Jethro said. “You brought my daughter back to me once, and now you’ve honored our home with your presence. You have been gracious and kind, and we are proud to have known you.” He stated warmly.

Moses smiled and felt the woven threads under his fingers. No matter the finest things he received, he would always prize this above all else. It meant so much more to him than the price of the fibres it was sown with - it was a symbol of all that he learned here, all the things he wanted to share with his people.

Tzipporah stood to his left, adjusting her own scarf. “I’ll take him as far as the gates,” she told her father. “From there, he says he knows the way.”

“I do,” Moses said softly. “Every step.”

The three looked at each other nostalgically, the air filled with the bittersweet feeling of goodbyes - but it was not to last.

A voice shouted across the encampment.

“Riders!” a man cried, running in from the dunes. “Riders approach from the West!”

All at once, movement erupted like a stirred hive. Mothers gathered their children and pulled them into the safety of their huts. Elders beckoned the youngest toward the tents, and men and women of able strength took up staffs and sickles - anything that could serve as a weapon - and rushed to the edge of the camp.

Jethro’s jaw tightened. “Desert thieves?”

Tzipporah grabbed Moses’s wrist. “Come on!”

But Moses broke from her, his eyes already fixed on the distant horizon. He ran to the top of the nearest dune, sandals kicking up sand. There, with the wind cutting through his new cloak and the sun at his back, he narrowed his eyes toward the distant figures.

A line of riders crested the hills - six, maybe seven in total. 

The one at the front led the charge with confidence, their black stallion kicking up a trail of golden dust behind them.

Moses’s breath caught.

Even at a distance, there was no mistaking that horse - the proud bearing, the way it willed itself easily across the desert sands as if it ruled them itself.

A stunned whisper escaped him.

“Ramses.”

Chapter Text

At first it felt like a dream - like a mirage of heat conjured him from the sand or a ghost shaped by longing.

But the figure on horseback didn’t vanish with the whipping of wind. 

Instead, it came closer, and closer still, until Moses could see the familiar cut of the rider’s shoulders, and the dark, swaying sidelock swept behind him by the force of his steed’s powerful strides.

It was Ramses - really, truly him.

Moses felt the weight of the Prince Regent’s gaze settle on him as his horse kicked faster against the ground, surging far ahead of the others with urgency, his figure drawing closer at a reckless pace. 

Moses felt his breath catch. 

His heart leapt in his chest, soaring as the realization hit in full - He found me .

A stunned laugh burst from his chest - sharp, warm, incredulous. 

Moses pressed a hand to his forehead as if it might keep him grounded in the moment. Then, he laughed again, louder this time.

The joy on Moses’s features spoke volumes as the Midian people around him began to settle in place, dropping their guard as they too, realised the truth of the situation.

Tzipporah nudged his arm playfully, “I told you he was searching.” She said with a smile.

Moses couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

“Ramses!” he shouted, voice cracking in the air. He took off running, his red cloak waving behind him, the golden, accented thread shimmering in the sun.

His heart was pounding - breath burning in his chest as his feet carried him across the warm desert sand.

The stallion skidded to a halt at the foot of a dune, and Ramses was already on the ground before it stopped completely.

He leapt from the saddle, his wrap fluttering as he hit the ground and sprinted toward the only man he had ever truly loved.

They collided with a force that knocked the breath from both of them and landed them in the dusty Earth.

Their bare arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, then waists - their heads tucked into each other’s necks as if trying to hold every piece of the other in place.

It was so visceral it was almost surreal. 

Moses didn’t stop the tears that willed themselves from his eyes now. He coughed and sniffed, overworked by the sheer relief of being in his arms again.

Ramses pressed his forehead against Moses’s temple and let out a sound that was half-laughter, half-sob - perhaps the sound of something broken being made whole again.

Moses didn’t care that the sand stung his skin as it was pressed hard into the Earth, or that his cloak was caught under Ramses’s knee - he didn’t even mind that they were in the middle of the desert with a dozen Midianites and guards staring at them, utterly bewildered.

He only knew that Ramses was here, and to him, it was all that mattered.

“I missed you,” Ramses whispered softly, running a careful, reverent hand across Moses’s damp cheek. “Every day I lived - every breath I took - I missed you with all of it.”

Moses swallowed thickly. “I wanted to be with you, Ramses. I wanted to return -” He began, tears streaming from his eyes, but Ramses pressed a finger to his lips.

“You’re with me now, and I’m never letting you go again.” He said, pulling Moses closer to his body, their chests pressing in on each other so hard that they could feel each other’s rapid heartbeat.

The two remained like that for a moment longer before Ramses finally relented and pulled Moses upwards to stand in front of him.

“Ramses…” Moses began carefully, a heavy realization dawning on him that he could not afford to ignore. “What about father?”

Ramses rested his hands on Moses’s arms and held him firmly in place - as if something would come to take him away without a moment’s notice. 

“He’s allowed you to return.” He replied.

Moses’s eyes widened. “W-what? But I don’t understand. Why would he-”

“He gave me a warning.” Ramses started. “He said that I have chosen to walk a path that would lead to the destruction of Egypt - and us.” he added. “But I won’t continue to live without you - especially knowing that you’re here - safe… alive.”

“So, he still wishes for my banishment.” Moses surmised.

“I believe he does… but I will be the next Pharaoh - and whether he likes it or not, I will have you lead by my side.”

Moses shifted in place - conflicted about many things - but confident in the fact that he too, wanted the same.

“Moses.” Ramses said again, using his thumb to guide his chin upwards and meet his eyes. “Will you return with me?” He asked. “Will you stay by my side and be a Prince of Egypt again?”

Moses already knew the consequences of his choice - how difficult the road ahead would be, how painful it was to make and ensure change in Egypt, how it was undeniable he would never be able to look the Pharaoh in the eye again until the day he passed into the other world - but despite all that, he wouldn’t ever consider wavering from his choice.

Abandoning all of his reservations and doubts, Moses did something that truly caught Ramses by surprise.

With a bold, joyous confidence, he pressed his lips into Ramses’s, embracing him fully and openly for the first time.

The Prince Regent didn’t hesitate and returned the affection hungrily - his tongue parting Moses’s lips to meet the wet, hot warmth of his mouth.

Ramses moved his hand lower under Moses’s cloak until it rested in the small of his back, and finally… finally , the two felt whole again.

Chapter Text

Ramses would’ve given up anything to have made that moment last forever, but after some time, their two bodies had to pull away.

Moses’s cheeks were flushed red as he huffed, and Ramses looked similar - though his eyes were tinged with a hint of desire that unrivaled even the greed of the gods.

He cleared his throat. “So… who are they?” Ramses asked, his attention turning to the group of onlookers behind Moses.

The younger prince turned and glanced at the group, motioning for a few of the people to come forward.

A large, sturdy older man stopped in front of them with a tall, slender woman clad in blue at his side.

Ramses recognized her instantly.

“You…! I remember you.” He said.

Tzipporah smiled. “Hopefully not going to offer me up to Moses again, I hope.” She quipped.

Ramses stood stricken with guilt and embarrassment.

“N-no.” He said. “And for back then, I am truly sorry.” He added.

Tzipporah’s eyes widened. “I-” She started, shocked. “Th- thank you…”

Jethro watched the exchange with a wide grin, and Moses continued.

“They found me in the desert after I had received some wounds.” He started, and Ramses stood, alarmed. 

“You’re hurt?” He asked protectively, hands automatically reaching out to inspect him.

“Not anymore.” Moses confirmed, hoping to calm him. “They and their people cared for me and healed me when I was at my weakest - I owe them everything.”

Ramses looked toward the tall, greyed man next to Tzipporah who stepped forward.

“So this is the man you would cross the sands to find,” he said to Moses. “I have heard much of you, Prince Regent.” He stated, nodding his head forward slightly.

Ramses bowed his head respectfully in return. “You have my deepest gratitude for saving him.” He said. “Is there anything I can do in return?”

Jethro shook his head. “We ask for nothing - we only hope that the kindness we show here is shown to others.”

Ramses nodded seriously. “With Moses at my side, it is my hope that we will build a greater Egypt - one that would share your sense of compassion and loyalty.” He glanced at Moses then before adding, “I believe together, that we will.”

Moses stepped toward Jethro and extended a hand. “Thank you - for everything. I hope to return one day, if you’ll have me.”

Jethro reached out to grasp the younger man’s smaller hand and patted it firmly. “You will always have a place among us,” he said with a smile.

Tzipporah took a step closer to Moses and held out a hand of her own.

“Try not to throw yourself into the desert again, will you?” she teased gently, though her eyes were shining with emotion. 

Moses looked back at her with overflowing feelings of appreciation and ignored her gesture to instead pull her into a fierce hug.

Tzipporah stiffened in surprise for a moment, then settled, returning Moses’s show of affection.

“Thank you.” Was all he could say.

She nodded - the two had grown to be such a close pair over the weeks that had passed, and parting would be more difficult than either of them cared to imagine.

“You know, I was looking forward to riding back with you.” She said. “Promise me you’ll return and go for a ride with me some day?”

Moses chuckled lightly. “I will.”

Ramses gave the trio all the time they needed until finally, Moses turned his way again.

He extended a hand, beckoning him into his arms again. “Are you ready?”

Moses took it without hesitation. “Yes.”

With one final look at the people who had brought him hope again, Moses stepped away. 

He and Ramses walked together side by side toward the waiting horse, the two of them now ready to start their journey.

The desert stretched before them, but this time, they would cross it together.

Not to return to a life once lived - but to a life filled with all the possibilities that waited for them, warm and welcoming on the horizon.

Chapter Text

For Ramses, the ride back to the palace was practically unbearable as the weight of Moses's body pressed into him from behind.

Sharing a saddle only made waiting for the moment they would finally be alone together again that much more difficult, and his patience was quickly burning from both ends.

Despite the temptations, Ramses pushed them away to focus on the discussion that needed to happen.

Together, they recounted their stories and filled the holes in each other’s tales.

By the time they had finished discussing, the sun was setting on the horizon and the hooves of the horses finally hit the sturdy foundation of a city built on stone.

As they passed through the main gate, onlookers gathered in the streets to watch as the Prince Regent and his guard strode through the city on the back of their horses. 

The people’s hushed, excited words rose around them like the pale moon beginning to show over the horizon.

Moses gripped Ramses’s waist tightly, a flutter of anxiety passing through him as he had steadily become recognized by the citizens.

He wanted to be confident as he once was, and knew it would take time to gain it again - especially now that his confidence would no longer be due to ignorance and self-righteousness.

Moses sighed.

“I know.” Ramses whispered, answering the unspoken call to comfort the man behind him. “We’re different people now, Moses. We still have some growing to do, and plenty of changes to make, but we’ll walk this road together.”

Ramses took one hand from his reins and held Moses’s tightly.

Moses smiled. “I know… Thank you.”

Ramses smiled lightly and the pair continued in silence until they were upon the steps to the palace.

At the top, they saw a pair of tall, regal figures waiting for them.

“Mother and Father.” Ramses said, somewhat apprehensive about Moses seeing them again so soon.

He pulled his stallion to a stop and slid out of the saddle first, offering a hand to Moses to assist him.

Ramses leaned forward as the younger Prince’s feet hit the ground. “You don’t have to see them yet, if you’re not ready.” He whispered.

Moses patted the back of his hand lightly and pushed it away - resolve evident in his eyes.

“No, I'll speak to them now.” He said, beginning his ascent to meet them.

Ramses passed the care of his steed to a nearby servant and followed behind him, feeling both nervous for and protective of Moses. 

The two walked in silence, Moses’s heart beating loud with every careful step he took towards the Pharaoh.

And then, finally, only a single stair remained.

Moses stopped and bowed.

Seti’s eyes widened, and Tuya’s shined with unmistakable sorrow.

She was the first to act, stepping from her place above him to be at his side and pull him into a tight embrace.

The Pharaoh didn’t scorn or disapprove - he did nothing but look on, unmoving, as the tender scene unfolded before him.

“Welcome home, my son.” Tuya whispered quietly in his ear.

Moses dropped his head into her shoulder as they embraced, feeling the warmth and love they had once shared spread between them like a healing balm.

If there was one thing he had learned from the Midians, it was forgiveness, and he was prepared to offer it whole-heartedly.

“Thank you, Mother.” He whispered back.

A slight shudder shook through the Queen, and a singular, silent tear fell onto his shoulder - a deeply repentful apology offered, and accepted.

She removed herself a moment later, stepping back and up the steps again, returning to the Pharaoh who remained still in his place.

“So you’ve returned.” He finally spoke.

“I have.” Moses replied, and he felt Ramses’s posture straighten behind him.

Seti let out a long, burdened sigh. “Do you know why it was I had you sent away?” He asked.

“I believe that I do.” Moses said.

“Yet you’ve come back anyway… Have you no concern for the future of Egypt?” He said disapprovingly.

“The reason I've returned is precisely because I do.” Moses replied with a measured tone. “I plan to stand by Ramses’s side when he ascends, and together we will strengthen Egypt.”

“You too, choose a difficult path, Moses.” Seti warned.

“I do.” He replied coolly. “But the man who raised me taught me to stand unwavering in the face of a challenge.”

The slightest flash of a grin flashed across Seti’s features - so faint that it was perhaps not noticed by anyone, but it had been there nonetheless.

He simply nodded.

“I will not apologize for sending you away.” 

“I know. But I hope you’ll welcome me home anyways, father.”

Moses stood with his head inclined at the Pharaoh who inspected him, surprised at the visage of the grown man before him.

Without another word, he turned and began to step away.

Tuya followed a step behind, turning to take one more look at her sons and share a last bittersweet smile before she too, disappeared into the haze of incense wafting about the entrance to the palace.

Moses felt a sturdy hand press onto his shoulder and Ramses sighed.

“Things have changed much since we were children.” He remarked solemnly.

Moses grasped his hand and pulled it in front of him, threading Ramses’s fingers between his own.

“They certainly have.” He said.

Ramses’s eyes glinted.

“You must be tired from the journey.” He remarked.

“I am.” Moses confirmed. “It would probably be best for me to eat, bathe, and retire for the evening.”

Ramses began to pull Moses up the final steps to the palace, leading him gently by the hand.

“I suppose that’s a good plan.” He said. “Though I heard the candelabra in your room is dented - hardly in a state for a son of Ra to lay eyes on.”

Moses chuckled lightly. “I see. Do you think I might find another room suitable to host me on such short notice?”

“I think you might.” Ramses said mischievously, turning back to look Moses in the eye and pull his body close.

The two stared into each other’s eyes, the faintest light of the setting sun reflecting off of Ramses’s gaze into the gentle, cool illumination of the rising moon in Moses’s.

They fell into each other passionately, lips meeting to kiss in a deep, bonded kiss that transcended to the heights of the heavens themselves.

It had been so long, but now, they were finally home.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t much longer before Moses had replenished himself and bathed, then strode into Ramses’s chambers.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, the older prince swept him off his feet and kicked the door shut behind them, carrying Moses tenderly in his arms.

“R-ramses!” Moses exclaimed suddenly. “Be careful.”

Ramses didn’t reply as he lowered Moses onto his bed, setting him down gently as the cool, clean sheets caressed the bare skin of his back.

Moses playfully pushed him away as he was released from his arms, then froze when their gazes collided. 

Ramses's eyes were glossed over with a thick, heated lust that made Moses redden.

“I missed you.” Ramses said again, this time his words rumbling deep and heavy with insinuation. 

He leaned over and planted hungry, lingering kisses on Moses’s chest. 

The younger prince couldn't help but writhe under the sensation, his fingers twisting to grasp at the bed dressings as if holding them would help keep him from melting in Ramses's grasp.

“I want you.” Ramses whispered, his voice seeping of sweet longing. 

To him, Moses was the substance on which he became intoxicated - and he wanted more, all that he could take.

Moses reached out and held Ramses on either side of his face, staring back intently, his own desire growing like an unchecked wildfire in his chest. 

“Then take me, Ramses.” He said, pulling him in for an eager kiss. 

The two met with driven, hurried passion as their tongues teased and entwined. 

Ramses bit Moses's bottom lip softly, a small whimper escaping the man beneath him as he began to taste him more. 

He ran his hands through Moses’s unruly hair and grasped it firmly, pulling him into an even closer, deeper embrace.

Moses reached for Ramses's waist, clumsily attempting to undo the wrap of his shendyt as his body twisted, enthralled underneath him. 

When his hands finally finished their work, Moses broke the kiss and pushed Ramses onto his side. 

He dropped to his knees and kissed the inside of Ramses's thighs, working his way up to his lower abdomen and back down to kiss the slick head of his engorged cock.

Ramses moaned. “M-moses.” He gasped, reaching to grab his hair again and pull him closer - begging. 

Moses answered his call eagerly, licking the folds of his tender skin below and trailing his tongue along the length of his shaft until finally taking the entire member into his mouth. 

Ramses lifted his hips and pressed further into Moses, pulling him even closer to bear down on him. 

Moses sucked him with increasing pleasure, his own erection beginning to drip with excitement as he brought Ramses closer to satisfaction. 

A shudder passed through the Prince Regent as Moses trailed his hands down his hips, teasing him further with the added sensations. 

Ramses would have let him carry his euphoria over the edge, but he wanted more of Moses. 

He pulled the younger prince’s head back, releasing himself from the feeling of the warm, wet, delicious pressure that had been enveloping him. 

Ramses sat upright and summoned Moses to his side, patting the space in the bed next to him. 

Moses obeyed the instruction easily, falling beside him and parting his legs with enthusiasm. 

“Ramses…” Moses breathed hotly, and the Prince Regent couldn't help but notice the trail of glistening saliva dripping from his soft, sultry lips down to the point of his chin. 

An animalistic desire took over as Ramses positioned himself over him and gently probed his entrance. 

“I missed you.” Moses whispered. “And now that I have you again, I want to feel you inside of me.” 

Ramses leaned forward and locked Moses in a long, drawn kiss.

“You'll have me.” Ramses replied, pushing himself further against him. 

“All of me.” He said, finally pushing inside, Moses's body curling underneath him from pleasure. 

He grasped the base of Moses's cock and began to stroke it in rhythm with his slow, careful thrusts. 

“Nngh…” Ramses muttered, the sensation of Moses's tight hole teaching him the definition of absolute pleasure. 

Moses too, stiffened beneath him, his erection growing harder in Ramses's hand. 

“Moses…” Ramses huffed, his senses standing completely on pins, threatening to give way beneath him. 

“R-ramses… Don't stop…” Moses cried. 

And it pushed him over the edge. 

A sudden, powerful force rippled through their bodies, and Ramses fell forward into Moses's lap. 

The two moaned together as they came, sweat beading their brows and stars clouding their vision as they basked in the afterglow. 

Ramses flipped onto his back and held Moses’s hand tightly, running his thumb across his knuckles.

For some time, they just laid there - neither of them speaking - only breathing together to create a perfect pattern of harmony. 

Then, Ramses stirred.

“Moses.” He called gently. 

Moses opened his eyes to meet his insistent, serious gaze. 

“What is it?” He asked. 

Ramses reached for something in the folds of his discarded clothing, then brought his hand behind Moses’s back, pulling him closer as he continued.

“I want to be by your side for the rest of my life.” He whispered. “I'll do whatever it takes - anything - to make that happen.”

He paused and pulled a light blue trinket from his pocket, bringing it in front of Moses’s eyes. 

“I know it meant something different when I gave it to you,” he began, and Moses’s vision blurred with tears as the sight of that cherished turquoise ring filled his vision again. “But I know that as we have grown, it's meaning too, has changed.” 

Ramses clutched the ring in his fist and pulled Moses’s hand closer, holding it near to his heart. 

“I hope you'll carry it with you again.” He said. “And when you look at it, you'll think of me - of the promise I'm making, right now, to be with you until the end of our days.”

Moses clenched his eyes shut tightly, blinking away the tears that had swelled up in his eyes. 

“I love you, Moses.” 

Moses parted Ramses's closed fist to feel the cool metal and stone of the ring press against his palm. 

“I love you too, Ramses.” 

Ramses pulled Moses into a soft, delicate kiss that stretched into the wee hours of the night. 

And as the ring passed back to the hand of it's intended, all felt whole in the world again. 

Chapter Text

The years that followed were full of change.

Pharaoh Seti continued to rule for a time, keeping some distance from his sons until he passed into the afterworld, followed by his benevolent Queen less than half a decade later. 

Miriam and Aaron were given the chance to finally meet their brother, and in time they became instrumental in helping to reform the flawed, ancient systems of slavery Egypt had been built upon.

Tzipporah was invited to Memphis as a guest this time, and welcomed into the palace along with her family to share their stories and inspire healing and kindness in the hearts of those who were not so keen to change.

But not every day was easy.

More than once, Ramses and Moses both had their life threatened due to their radical proposals, but when Ramses finally rose to take his father’s place, more people began to listen and understand the need for the changes they were trying to make.

Luxor temple was the last building to be completed on the backs of the slaves, and though Ramses offered to have it demolished and re-built anew, properly this time as a commemoration to the slave’s freedom, Moses denied it.

It stood as a symbol of an era now passed, and an admission of the wrong that the generations of kings imposed on the people.

But it was also proof that Egypt could be changed - through the words and actions of those brave enough to try it.

As for the younger prince, he often walked the gardens and rode with Ramses across the warm desert sands.

They visited the outpost he had been imprisoned once, and spent their evening re-writing the sullen memories he had of that small, cold, stone room.

Now when he thought of it, it was only Ramses that rose in his memory.

In the minds of their people, the two were entirely inseparable - one did not mention the Pharaoh without muttering his partner’s name too - and their relationship became a symbol of enduring and harmony which accented the theme of their intentions for the world.

Moses was never seen without his strong, bold, turquoise ring, and Ramses the shining, resilient, ruby ring which Moses had gifted to him on the year anniversary of their reunion.

They lived for generations, every day filled without an absence of love or effort.

And by the time they were old and grey and heard Ra calling them home, they knew they could pass into the afterlife in peace. 

For in this life, they had done everything they could to change Egypt for the better. 

And in the next...

Ramses clutched Moses's hand tightly as they drew their final breaths.

In the next... They would still be together.