Lion Head Mesa [m] cut out my heart and you leave me bleeding

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if you have time, for @Ramesses ?

Charles' relations to Ramesses were awkward at best. The touches that Pharaoh planted at times on his earlobes were what stuck through the drunken haze the most of all. He had gone from asking himself what is wrong with me for liking men to asking himself what is wrong with me for not accepting a literal God's invitation to have a good time. The longing was still there, and it would not wane no matter how little time Charles spent with the Pharaoh, and no matter how much he drowned himself in the berries.

Feeling brave after getting himself drunker and drunker on berries that night, the Prince found himself on his way to the Pharaoh's chamber. He grew more and more nauseous on the way there and ended up reeling towards the side of the hallway, where he smacked his body to the wall and allowed the world to spin a bit.

The intensely uncomfortable feeling of his throat trying to escape through his mouth came up as he started to retch. Charles swallowed, just in time, with the taste of sick heavy on the back of his throat. He leaned drunkenly against the side of the wall and looked ahead, to where Pharaoh's chambers were, while his courage started to dissipate.

charles was roused. the fellahin spoke of the prince's mercurial moods and his constant demands for wine. 
the sound of retching roused the pharaoh. he sent jawahir away, instructing the jewel to bring water. and then he himself came to greet the man with a single level look of lapis eyes.
"why do you overindulge, charles?" he asked, inviting the man inside even as the fellahin returned with sodden moss, and held it to the sickened man's lips.
"come inside." it was a command.

Footsteps fell to Charles' ears before he looked up to see the Pharaoh. His vision was blurry and muddled. The words made a wry chuckle fall from Charles' lips. Why do you overindulge? What a question. It was one that Charles had asked himself many times, but the only thing that he could think of was that he must be stupid. There must be something wrong with him. That's what he had been told his entire youth, after all, and now that he was an adult, he found that his mother had been right all along; there was something wrong with him. He did not deserve what he had here in Akashingo.

Perhaps that's why he overindulged.

Charles did not like being force-fed the water from the moss. This was not the first time that happened. Yet with Pharaoh staring at him demandingly, he allowed some of the water to drip from the moss into his parted lips. He started to cough after that and continued to lean against the wall, dazed, until Pharaoh 'invited' him in.

The coywolf followed into Pharaoh's room, like lamb to the slaughter. He was not sure what he feared more; Ramesses' anger or Ramesses' forgiveness. Or perhaps it was that forbidden touch, the one that he craved most of all of them. Oh, how he longed to be truly free. This was a place where one could attain such things. And yet...

ramesses turned now the blistering lapis gaze upon the man sodden and reeking of drink. "i have given you akashingo. i have placed a beautiful woman as your bride. she gave herself as wife and you —" the impotency with which charles had treated the first political marriage of the mesa infuriated ramesses.
he steadied himself. "bring honey and meat," he snapped to a servant. "no berries." he would bring charles out of this stupor and into some semblance of sobriety before he lashed with his words again.
pharaoh sat heavily upon his throne. "the least you might tell is if you performed with lilitu at very least." 
for he wondered.
and now he would know.
ramesses was regal, enmarbled, alabaster.

Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: sexual themes / suggestion

Charles wanted nothing more than to get himself together, but it was so hard. He thought of the words Tavina had whispered into his ears — please him, lord Charles. blame her. receive a new wife. — and that was all he wanted, but attaining it seemed like an impossible hurdle to pass over. Ramesses spoke to him angrily, speaking of all the things that he had given Charles. Of course, it was a mistake to give all these things to him in the first place. Charles had known that in his heart the moment he had received them. He wondered every second of every day; why? He had waited for the catch every moment of every day and yet it had never come. And still he wondered: Why?

Clearly, he did not deserve it, and once more it was proven.

Despite his anger, Ramesses ordered the servants to get honey and meat. Charles did not know if these were for him, of course. Maybe Ramesses was just hungry. He thirsted for berries, so he could forget about it all and get drunk. Well, y'know. Even more than he already was.

Ramesses asked, then, once Charles had settled inside of the chambers to look up at the Pharaoh far away upon his throne, if he had 'performed' with Lilitu. Charles felt his cheeks flush, as he did not like to discuss such things, but he also felt an indignant chill and he could not stop himself from blurting out — Of course I did! He knew it wasn't him. It was her! Blame her. She's the one who is the insult! Gently. She deny to give me children, then leave! Oops. I had a daughter. I know it's not me.

Did he perform? Yes. Did he enjoy it? Well, no, of course not, because he (less and less) secretly still thirsted for a whole different sort of companionship. But that did not mean that he could not fake it and pretend that it was not some girl he did not care about beneath him. He had done it with Nyra, to prove himself, and he had done it again with Lilitu. Except this time it had not given him children. Charles actually had looked forward to that. He thought he could clean himself up if he had to be a father. He'd never been allowed to be much of one for Lotus. Yet, Lilitu had taken that away from him, as she had many more things by leaving to Brecheliant.

the servant set the food down before charles and crept away. ramesses looked severely upon the man. "she was a beautiful and pristine bride." but the prince was correct. he had proven himself before, while perhaps lilitu had not truly submitted in her wifely duties.
nevertheless, she was gone, and he would not act on his authority to recall her. "there is no reason for her to return unless it is in the springtime, to try again." and there was no reason to subject her to such humiliation. not if charles was unwilling to become someone worthy of the match that ramesses had made.
"if you are correct, then the marriage can be anulled easily. but choose wisely. you are a prince of akashingo. you must be married. that is not for negotiation if you are to continue enjoying your position."
the lapis eyes hardened. "send your wife a thoughtful gift. the fellahin will assist you. woo her while you make something of yourself here. my words on this matter will not be the last you hear."
now he was silent. pharaoh waited.

The food was for him; the coywolf looked surprised, but he indulged nonetheless while Ramesses spoke.

Charles did not know what 'pristine' meant. Whatever the case, it had not helped them along. Ramesses said that she should not return unless it was spring time again. Charles felt that she should do whatever he said -- he was her husband, after all. Should he not have the right to make her do whatever he wanted? Could he not somehow stop her from insulting him so?

But the words of the Pharaoh were, of course, sensical. Even though he was drunk and dizzy, Charles could tell that. He should make something of himself. But that was not something he was good at.

The coywolf nodded several times, clearly agreeing with the sense in the Pharaoh's words. And yet... Before he knew it, the words were out in a drunken slur -- Why am I Neb? Ramesses had made him so, had offered him this position, yet it was clear to anyone else that Charles was undeserving. What did the Pharaoh see in him?

Charles hoped, now that the question was asked, that the answer would be something... Inspiring. Something that would actually make him believe he could make the positive changes that Ramesses demand of him.

"because i see greatness in you, charles, despite all that has happened." ramesses looked coolly upon the man. "i think there is a cruel steel in you that you hide with drink and shouting." pharaoh leaned forward upon that throne. "i could use such a blade."
akashingo had training, trade, rich food, and guarded gates. charles could do anything he sought. and pharaoh would ensure he received it. "i have seen your dealings with the servants. i know you can be crafty. and i need a network of our own in the mountains, and beyond."
light, the implication that he did not trust mereo.
his lazuli eyes alighted on the man and he was silent for a moment.
"suppose i dissolved your marriage to the princess lilitu and made of you a fellahin?" the thought was swift and titillating. his lazuli eyes hardened. "would you like this, charles?"

Charles did not see the same within himself that Ramesses spoke of. He enjoyed the luxury that he was given, but Charles had no idea what to do with it; point in case his current situation. He liked the berries too much and even though he had, against his own tastes, tried and done everything that was asked of him, he still failed. Just like always. It was no surprise to the coywolf. He was used to it. He really wanted to learn the culture of Akashingo and surpass himself like Ramesses wanted him to, but it felt as if he was trying to dig a hole without any tools to speak of, and that meant that the process was very slow, if at all.

As Ramesses described what he saw in Charles, the coywolf felt a swirl of fire in his stomach, but it diffused as soon as Ramesses said that he wished for Charles to leave — he'd sort of forgotten that detail — especially because Charles was unsure that he was good enough to do anything alone. He was more of a second violin kinda guy, really...

In the silence that followed, Charles tried to find words to say. Something like, I'll try harder or do you really think I could be your blade? or perhaps, what he felt the most, a determined then help me become that blade. But before Charles could utter those last words when he had finally found them in the tangles of his drunk mind, instead Ramesses uttered another sentence.

One that surprised Charles more than it should have. It took all of the air out of him; all of the determination from his mind and made him forget what he was going to say in the first place...

Instead, he felt the familiar sting of defeat and all he thought was, See? You ruin it again. Good work. Like when he had fled from the Glen or when he had been chased out of Redhawk Caldera. This whole time he had been silent, and only the craftiest of minds could have deciphered the storm of emotions within the coywolf for he tried to hide them as he went along.

Instead of answering the question, Charles said, somewhat indignant, Why would you do that if you think I can be blade? The last word rolled off his tongue awkwardly, because it was not a word that Charles had ever taken to his mouth before.

ramesses watched charles in silence, his mind poring over what it was the coywolf kept behind his long ears and somber face.
how beautiful the prince was! pharaoh chose not to regret the ascension, only how quickly he had done it.
his laughter poured richly, filling the throne room. "i mean to test your devotion." but charles had surprised him. the man had wrapped his tongue around the word blade and did not release.
ramesses thought it was a fine glittering hook to be lodged at the corner of the prince's mouth, but he meant it genuinely.
"be my blade. go to the mazoi and train. take a name of akashingo. i will consult the priests as to a proper title for a prince of the mesa." yet the lazulite eyes shone and the marble-wrought mouth was not yet finished speaking.
"but i do not think you need the distraction of a marriage. do these things for me, shape yourself, and i shall give you a beautifully trained concubine of your own. and she surely will give you children."

I mean to test your devotion. My devotion? Charles said, the word rolling off his tongue awkwardly, but his gaze fierce and intent despite his drunkenness. The coywolf knew the word, but he had never uttered it and he did not know its true meaning, only from the context he had gathered from it being used. Many used it differently. Charles knew it could be used in sexual context — but also in other — which made it even harder for him to decipher what it was that Ramesses tried to say.

A task followed. Train? Charles had trained with the Saints and he had been poor at it. He did not think that he was made for fighting. He was too small and weak, and unwilling and, truthfully, too scarred, to be truthful.

The mazoi? Charles knew some of the politics around the Mesa, but honestly not very much. He thought of telling that he would be bad at training, but he knew what it meant to have his.. devotion.. tested — one way or another.

The thought of having a concubine did not excite Charles very much beyond the fact that it would mean that he should not carry the responsibility of the children; whether a pairing succeeded or not was up to the woman, then, and he just needed to try his best. He knew that he was capable, after all, for he had produced a child once before. Charles was not excited by these thoughts, but he was excited to think about having a family of his own; especially if he were to ascend to higher standings within Akashingo. To be a powerful man and have his life under control... it seemed so far away now, but these thoughts truly filled Charles with an excited anticipation.

Perhaps it was the berries that gave Charles the courage to do what he did next; what he would never when he was sober. He leaned forward to the Pharaoh and he said hoarsely, almost secretively, as though he was proposing something entirely forbidden — What else can I do for you, Pharaoh?

"our guards. our elite." vipers striking. but akashingo could use more of them, and centralized beneath a single man — a single fierce prince — their reliance upon mereo could be reduced.
ramesses did not want makono thronged by the mazoi of akashingo. the image was too much for the deepening shadows of suspicion which so often flanked his heart in these times.
when charles leant closer, when pharaoh caught the scent of good wine on his breath, when the warmth from the beautiful and long-loved ears was finally his to feel, ramesses was still as carved stone.
the offer was clear.
his lips were soft, the brush of them against charles' own almost platonic in its gentle nature. but the desire was rearing in his lazuli eyes, stallions of lapis driving his heartbeat.
and if there was no resistance in the prince then, pharaoh meant to pull him closer. "show me your loyalty."

The elite. Charles did not think that he was much of a guardsman, honestly. He didn't think there was anything prestigious about it at all. He thought it was more of a punishment. Perhaps if the Pharaoh had described the image that he had in his head of this prince heading troops, noble and galant, swift like the river, it might be different. The image that the Pharaoh had painted of the coywolf was much different — much better — than the so proclaimed prince could think of himself. Charles did not have a wild imagination, so he could not even fathom at this point that this is what Ramesses might think. He had never considered himself more than a mouse or a toy to the Pharaoh; did not understand that he perhaps was truly coveted or desired, let alone appreciated.

No, he did not understand those things, but he understood at least some of the workings of his own twisted mind. He understood that the Pharaoh wanted him in some way — though in the coywolf's mind, only to play with him; all of this seemed like a cruel joke to him — and he understood that he in turn wanted Ramesses. It had not always been that way, but there was something about the man and the power that he exuded as he sat atop his throne that had always allured to Charles. Charles didn't know what'd brought him back — or rather, why the ringing of Ramesses' words in his ears had brought him back — but he knew that he wanted to be close to the Pharaoh. Whether it was lust, power, or something else entirely, he did not know.

In this moment, it did not matter, as it was all a drunken blur.

Pharaoh was cold and at the same time inviting; a mix that Charles did not consider possible until now. It left him without breath. Ramesses' eyes blazed like Charles had seen them never before, and the touch of their lips sent a shiver down his spine. His hackles were raised, but inside he felt a fire roaring like he never had before. Charles allowed himself to be pulled closer, and he hesitantly nipped at Pharaoh's ears and the fur in his neck; hesitant for the first half a minute or so, perhaps, before fully and surprisingly forcefully committing himself to this path that he had chosen; finally giving in.

we can fade this here maybe..? :) but also fine to continue or do a fade of the scene & continue after.