Sunset Valley he stole her youth

silatuyok.
the scorned prince takes in her name and tucks it away, though not before trying it out, testing the weight of it and how it sounds rolling off his tongue, silatuyok.
it carries with it a weight of unfamiliarity; a foreignness. it does not move the same way on his tongue as the names of his own culture.
he does not offer his own right away, flitting between them as if they were pages that he did not wish to read. did it matter who he was? even as he strove to embrace what his pharaoh-father had only ever attempted to snuff out of him, he was not sure that his names fit him. at least not anymore. not yet.
vhagar. he speaks as she leads the way, remembering the word being whispered and carried along the cavernous walls of the temple den from time to time. even as he speaks it now, claiming it as his own, there is something in it that feels ancient, heavy, armored.