Lion Head Mesa rekhyt

Prince of the Crimson Land, son of the great Pharoah Ramesses, and his queen Treva. These titles paled in significance to the one he carried deep within his heart. Twin of muat-riya. 

The drifting snowflakes settled in his fur and he watched them mingle with the grains of sand. His ears kept angled in the direction of his father to show he was listening but Sethnakht always seemed deep within his own world of dark thoughts. A thinker, not a fighter. Wise Sethnakht, unfeeling Sethnakht. Prince Sethnakht.

Would it ever be that he was just Seth?

He walked beside the Pharaoh today, careful to keep a few paw steps behind the older man. Always careful. Even since he was just a pup he had a way of understanding things others did not say, and he studied what they did. The fellahin behind them were almost silent. They too understood where they must stay. Not just behind them in the physical body, but in every other aspect. Like worms groveling in the dirt beneath the proud wolven feet. Disgusting.

Another year. Sethnakht did not miss the meaning behind this. He made the decision then to be bold today. "If I could spend every waking moment studying, I would, father." Something in his eyes gleamed. "I have learned of an ancient tradition in recent days. One to keep bloodlines pure."

The youth said no more. That was enough. He thought Ramesses cunning enough to read into it. Perhaps he was not. Perhaps Seth was the only damn wolf with any brains in this forsaken place. The thought amused him to no end.