Lion Head Mesa Tiger lily

"a king." khaemwaset smiled, though the expression did not reach his kohled eyes and gave the boy an appearance of sternness there in his gaze. a feather rested silken upon one eartip, and he watched his hand in the pool's mirror, reaching almost to flick the pale wisp away.

it accented the precious hue of her eyes, khaemwaset decided, and let the swanfeather alone as neith's praise radiated around him, uplifting the dark prince. "den is firstborn. you heard father and the high priest," came his reminder for her ears. there was no reason to scold; he only affirmed what he and neith knew.

once more they gazed together into the pool; he felt her eyes move over his reflection and found it more bearable than if his sister had only stared into his own face. he was proud beneath her perusal, flashing some early imitation of rashepses' brash grin.

den was firstborn. but that did not mean khaemwaset could not be king, and he knew it, these embryonic ambitions nurtured further by neith's confidence in him. "do you not want to be pharaoh, sister?"

father was powerful. eyes admired him. hearts adored. he commanded akashingo and even the storms bowed to him. and mother was pharaoh. the Horus Throne; yes. khaemwaset wanted to sit there one day, and he had no need for a king beside him. he would have a queen.