Lion Head Mesa sycamore of the sky ☥

"ba!"

the boy's voice was imperious.

as royal child, he knew no hierarchy. he, his sisters, and their brother fed at the breast of the divine, nurtured by voices which had been sculpted in god-forges. he had three equals. he had none.

as royal child, he knew a hierarchy, sensed the unfurling ivory wings behind his small shoulders and the glowing queen's-eyes floating at his right before he knew a single word.

and now, straightbacked and pudge-bellied, imperious even so, khaemwaset raised his tiny paw and again squealed "ba!" into the corner of the room. a servant had come from there and brought something forward to his mother's royal bed. the prince did not see them now, his eyes barely focused, but his inherent arrogance was wakening.

his command would be heard.

ungainly and milkfat, khaemwaset tipped then roundly to one side, caught by a royal arm and a laugh.