Lion Head Mesa radiance of heaven ☥

at a month's age, khaemwaset had become ever more imperious. he did not shy from a retinue of watchful mazoi and fawning fellahin — he expected an entourage.

all eyes had been upon him since he had drawn first breath, and this pleased the little prince very much.

while he did scramble, round-bellied and still unsteady, after his sisters and brother, he had lately been seen adopting a slower gait, a meandering pace. and after lustily gorging himself that afternoon, the boy found himself energetic, toddling out into the red halls.

hehe couldn’t resist

his mother was with him. he seemed to enjoy company, and enjoyed the adoring eyes of the fellahin upon him. she herself enjoyed his adoring eyes, which were softest when upon his family now. there was a clever gleam in them she could never forget, and she smiled to think of her father as she watched him move. might this be a young Ramesses? she had never thought to imagine him so young! 
the Pharaoh moved slowly with him through the red hall, grander than any whelping site with more room for her young to move. her own movements were inherent, but also learned—she had watched her father very closely. it was perhaps how she knew him to be within the young Khaemwaset, awakening! 
an imperious gesture to one fellahin brought forth new furs to languish upon. Toula did just this, soft eyes finding another fellahin who happily moved to fan them. the days were still warm!

yay! :D

everyone bowed to mother. everyone bowed to father.

everyone bowed to him.

in their bent heads he found his place: standing atop them.

it was too hot to recline with his mother, and too restless for him to retire to his own rest. khaemwaset padded here and there, boredly batting a very precious seastone across the floor as if it were nothing.

she observed him. gemstone gaze watched each move, each precious breath. as he moves to bat away the sea stone, she rises—another lesson is due, it seems. he was young and learning, and likely did not know the difference between what was precious, what was not—nothing was a rarity for them. they were surrounded by riches. and so a bauble could be the same thing as any old pebble to them.
Toula is gentle as she picks it up between her teeth. she drifts again to her furs, and places it down between her forelegs as she reclines to into a sphinxlike position. Khaemwaset, she summons him with a smile, do you know what this is? she inquired, pointing to the very thing he had swept aside with her muzzle.

"no." his voice was babyish, a boy's voice, but the eyes which regarded his divine mother with her due of adoration seemed to see more. he saw the glow of the jewel in her arms and wanted it, but his respect for her was so great that he only lay down before her.

attempting to arrange his arms and legs in her same gilded elegance, khaemwaset gazed up at pharaoh. "what is it?"

his eyes glowed a moment later, as if at the remnants of some private joke. "mother," the prince added, mouth curved in a glittering smirk.

it is the first stone of trade between ourselves and the moonwolves of the Sea. it is the physical manifestation of a new beginning, she hums, rolling the stone over with her paw slowly. now she saw his want for it. more than one lesson to be learned, and his patience would be rewarded. this particular stone you will not see it’s like of in our desert. it is unique. no other possess it. even where it has been retrieved from, it is rumored to be uncommon. for more than one reason does something so small mean so much, she watches her son, singing the siren song of rarity. she desired what few, if any, could possess. 
we are Gods. we are given most everything freely, the offerings abundant. but the things that have made me the richest of Pharaohs come from the things I have not disregarded or discarded for it’s smallness. we are more refined, more cultured, than any other who would, a rich laugh came from her then, eyes twinkling as though to say, could you imagine—ah, we are better than such insipid stock! 
this thing, I leave in your care. you will be trusted with many things. you will learn to rule. you will aid in expanding our trade, finding more beautiful and rare things. but first, you will show me that you can take some care, came her test, as she wondered who she might make her own heir. now her paw lifted, and she gave the stone to him. a lesson that not all things could be taken, and not all things would be given freely—but that there was always a way. and then, once provided—to not lose sight of it. 
Toula shared his smile. strange, somehow, to hear him speak this word. strange as she looked into his gaze and saw her father. remembered the care in which he raised her, taught her. he had given her everything, as she would to her children—but she would give them more. lessons she had learned when he had gone to the Land of the Reeds. lessons she had shared with him in prayer. 
my son, she answered in turn, voice amused as she wondered, do you remember?

trade.

despite how mother explained it, khaemwaset was not yet old enough to understand that this was the standpoint upon which riches were channeled into akashingo, upon which their might relied.

we are better. more godly. we are blessed, he heard in her cultured voice, and now he looked at the stone with more thoughtfulness. he held it carefully and did not roll it upon their elegant floors.

they looked curiously at one another, he and she, and he gave her that brazen reflection of rashepses' own grin and perhaps something ancient lay behind it now. "this is mine," khaemwaset said quietly to himself, gazing at the jewel and then back to his holy mother.

"how do we have more?"