Lion Head Mesa shaduf [m]

The Pharaoh's sudden anger surprised Charles and it visibly shook him. He looked away and licked his lips in subconscious submission. Already he missed and longed for Ramesses' nearness, but he did not dare ask for it.

At the question, Charles' large ears drooped a little and he continued to look away. He could feel that Ramesses had come closer again. With some shame tainting his voice Charles admitted, No, I did not. Involuntarily his thoughts were carried back to those moments. How he had wanted Osiris to maul him. How he had challenged him on purpose. Perhaps it was jealousy over Leta, or perhaps it was something else altogether.

Ramesses' words fell heavy on Charles. He wanted to be defiant and question Ramesses — perhaps for the same reasons that he had questioned Osiris — but the memory of what Osiris had done to him was paralysing any action. He didn't want that to happen again. Why didn't the real world work the same way that his interactions with his family had? Why didn't he ever get what he wanted? He had everything he could ever hope for here, and he had just been told he could continue to enjoy it. But it was too much, too soon, too everything — he didn't deserve any of it, and he didn't know what to do with it now that he had it. His head was spinning, from the berries and the gravity of thinking back to Osiris. Charles just kept staring blankly at a piece of wall in these great chambers, showing only small signs of stress as his mind reeled and wallowed in big stress and he tried desperately to get himself under control.