Lion Head Mesa Soldier Prince

Hoping for this to be a merc trade thread! Maybe @Ramesses

Siptah was practicing the shielding position Germanicus had taught him. He had no sparring partner, for it was quite early in the morning, and he wasn't sure who to ask. He hadn't seen the soldiers much, but he figured they were busy investigating Satsu's death, or else they had left already.

The Prince had an imaginary opponent, and he circled it, dashing in once or twice for a quick jab. Training kept his body and mind busy, so he had no time for sorrow. At least, not until the night — they were still hard, but he had very private quarters and furs to muffle his tears. The time of mourning would soon be over... and then what?

ramesses paused to watch his son. 
the roman dog had kept his word. he saw the makings of it already in siptah.
he did not announce himself, merely descended to stand before the young falcon, muzzle tipped and eyes alit with a knowing blue light. 
he drew himself up and nodded. they would go on, and he would be siptah's opponent.

His father appeared, and Siptah eyed him for but a moment, then aiming another jab at his imaginary opponent. He paused only as Ramesses approached further, and at the look in his eye, Siptah understood. He bowed his head, then took up the defensive posture Germanicus had taught him. He would aim a quick, closed-mouthed strike at his father's shoulder, then attempt to dance away.

he swiped his paw quickly toward the boy's head. "when i was little older than you, my father, your grandfather who was the great seti, placed me as captain of the guard. and though i was not truly in charge, i too went to battle young."
he paused, then lowered his muzzle, snaking it quickly toward siptah's right cheek.

Siptah ducked the blow to his head, and he grinned at his father, taking to circling him as he spoke. The boy Prince puffed in response, "I want to learn to fight so that I can defend Akashingo. Whoever killed mother..." How he wanted to know who it was, so he might seek retribution. But, he was perhaps still too young. He could not do much damage yet.

He was not paying enough attention in his prickle of anger, and Ramesses struck his check, causing him to leap back and bristle, baring his teeth. He circled once more, then decided to feign a strike at his father's flank, to see what he might do.

"yes." ramesses lifted his head. "a prince will not only fight on one front. a soldier can, but if you want to be pharaoh, you must understand that attack comes also through words. both those which are said and those which are unsaid."
he dodged, though he was not swift enough to evade his son completely.
"if you go to our ally, and they ask 'who killed your mother?' what would you say?" ramesses waited, poised.

Tag for reference!

"I want to be Pharaoh. One day." It was the first time ever admitting these words. The Prince looked to his father, unabashed. "Makono told me she's going to Mereo, and Ashikaga to Brecheliant." It made sense that he would stay here, to train for his future. For the future of Akashingo.

His feint was only partially successful. He struck again, aiming for a foreleg. Ramesses' question hung heavy in the air. Siptah paused, to meet his father's gaze.

"I would say it was @Jawahir." He had no proof, just a suspicion, and a great dislike. It was enough, for him.

gonna start them a new one <3 we can wrap this one whenever!

he looked down at his son.
in the days to come, the mereo wolf would come to ramesses with the same suspicion.
pharaoh snapped for siptah's nape.
"what punishment would you give, lord prince?"

Germanicus had told him to listen to his instincts, and when his father struck for the nape of his neck, he did just that. He reared up, claws splayed out as he swiped at his father's face. "Exile. Her and her children." Prince Siptah did not yet have enough hate in him to want their deaths.

ramesses nodded.
he circled to the left, cheek stinging.
"an enemy in exile is still alive. suppose she raised her children as enemies of the palace."
pharaoh rushed siptah, hoping to throw him down this time.

Siptah swallowed, meeting his father's gaze. Would he really kill Jawahir, and two pups? They had to be close to Siptah's age. Would killing a child be so easy? His thoughts made him falter, and Ramesses easily knocked him on his back, pinning him down. His instincts told him if this was a real fight, he'd still be dead. Would he be Satsu, next? He still had much to learn, and much growing to do.

Looking up at his father from the ground, Siptah huffed, "I don't know. What would you do?" He got up, shaking the red dust from his pelt.

"when i was a boy, my father sired two new sons upon his concubines." ramesses did not explain the word. it was not yet for siptah, though the time would arrive when his heir would come of age and be given tribute. such gifts were historically in the form of those to serve in the new harem. it would not do for a son to dabble among his father's consorts.
enough upon that. "they were my brothers, but they were not my mother's children. fearing her wrath, my father sent these young princes into immediate exile with their mothers. they would live, but in some tiny corner of his kingdom, where Ra burns hotly and the dry time is long."
"but my mother was not a fool. she waited until the caravan had taken the mothers and the children, and then she sent her own guards into the desert after them." he looked at siptah. how awful it was that he would have no queen mother to protect him with such ferocity. ramesses had little doubt that treva might have been the one poisoned had satsu still been alive.
"a child who grows in exile might still be raised in hatred. learn mercy, my son, but learn also when there is no room for mercy."
"jawahir and her children serve me. they serve akashingo. watch them. do not trust them. but they must keep their lives."

Concubine. It was a foreign word to him, and his father did not elaborate upon it. Siptah frowned slightly, though he knew better than to ask. He kept quiet as Ramesses spoke. The Pharaoh spoke of exile, and while it was not ideal, Siptah thought keeping one's life was of utmost importance.

Except it sounded like the people in this story had not lived. Prince Siptah shivered slightly. He looked to his father, almost desperately, and he asked, "How am I to know which to use where?" The boy was quickly learning that he was resentful, holding grudges easily. He resented Jawahir, and by extension her whelps. He'd not even met them properly yet. He wished they all were not here. He wished for his mother back.

But wishes rarely came true.

pharaoh shook his fine head. "that i cannot teach. it is only learned through observation."
there would be much to see in the months to come.
he stretched a pale hindlimb. "come. we will go down and bathe in the river. we will say our prayers while we wash. these are called 'ablutions,' and they are very pleasing in the sight of the gods."
cleanliness was an act of divinity.

last from me <3

Siptah sighed, but nodded all the same. If his father could not teach it, Siptah would have to become more observant. As his father beckoned to him, the Prince followed, tail lifting slightly. He enjoyed spending time with his father, and getting closer to the Gods would always be a plus, especially as he wanted to be Pharaoh, one day. When their time together was done for the day, the Prince would return to his chambers, feeling the ache of his body from the spar. It had been a good day.