Sunset Valley he stole her youth

home is where the heart is. it's a nice sentiment ... but the scorned prince had no use for such things; a cold outlook borne of the fact that he had no idea where home was. his heart had lain so dormant, it's proud song suffocated by the dismissal of his pharaoh-father. swallowed by the merciless jaws of ammit. the would've-been pharaoh was stripped of his identity despite the fury of a scorned god burning in the cavern of his chest.
but his studious gaze watches her, following the softening of her expression, the aversion of her gaze to the ground. he gets the inkling of a suspicion that there's a tale there.
...don't have a home my heart calls such, either. if the charred thing in his chest could even beat. he pauses, weight shifting. where d'you call home?