Disclaimer: Little Sister's Keepress is not the writer/creator of the storyline and all its components in The Prince of Egypt. Philip LaZebnik and Nicholas Meyer are. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Thou shall not steal. Plagiarism is a dastardly deed. Thank you.
Apologies for everything wrong in this piece.
Summary: Sometimes, he thinks, this world is not enough to define his brother. To define this breath of life between them.
Solidify the Intangible
By Jan J. (P.J.P.), Little Sister's Keepress
Whisper. Whisper. Whisper.
Why won't anyone talk to him directly?
He is the Prince of Egypt for Ra's sake! Or at least one of the Princes of Egypt.
Rameses is tired of the watching eyes—the eyes that balk from his when he stares them down.
Moses does not hide from him. He confronts Rameses' stare joyously like all eager little brothers palpitating to prove Big Brother wrong.
Moses tries Rameses' patience sometimes, but the elder knows it is not on purpose. Moses has a certain sincerity and kindness when he is laughing on the Prince Regent's account.
"Moses!" Rameses bellows. This yell alone would knock out Bastet's yowling (if she were); the magnitude of it is divine.
The whispers stop. Moses appears by his side almost instantly.
"You screamed, Your Majesty?" the younger quips with laughter in his irises.
"What have I done?" Rameses asks sternly. "Or, as it is the case, what have you done, Moses?"
The younger quiets down. His face is marred by otherworldly devastation and remorse. This is not his jaunty Moses.
Rameses cannot breathe for a second. For one second, he sees Fear. He tastes Fear. He smells Fear.
"I cannot tell you, Brother," Moses solemnly replies. He turns away. "But I know that I must leave you."
Rameses then hears Fear.
"Moses." Rameses' voice rumbles with denial. He moves to clasp the other.
Rameses touches Fear.
"No!" Moses seemingly glides away. "I am harming you, Rameses. I cannot stay."
"What do you mean? Whatever it is, I can fix it, Moses!" begs the Prince Regent.
Moses faces him. He smiles. He reaches out a hand to Rameses' forehead and stops. "I promise that you will be fine alone. You will do fine alone," he reassures. "You always were strong, my Prince."
Rameses feels Moses' hand on his eyebrow.
"Good-bye, Brother," the second Prince of Egypt whispers. "Be well."
Rameses tries to block Moses from exiting, but he finds himself slumped against a wall. His vision is blurry. He does not see Moses. Soon his eyes are closing against his will.
Rameses is confused. He thought that everyone would be hunting for Moses.
Father found him. Found Rameses. Seti smiled sadly at his son when he tried explaining why he was on the ground. "You have been unwell for quite a while, Rameses," Seti would only say.
Mother . . .Mother looked heartbroken. She hugged him. In fact, she is hugging him at this exact moment.
"Did you find Moses?" he questions with passionate hope.
She is distraught.
"Rameses, we told you . . ."
"What are you saying?" he asks.
She pauses. "Rameses, Moses was never here."
The Prince of Egypt blinks.
"How can you utter this?" he demands. "Moses is your son. He is a Prince of Egypt. He is my brother!"
Tears leap from Mother's eyes.
"My son, you will get well. The priests . . .the gods will answer our prayers," she whispers. "Soon you will realize the truth."
She embraces him as if he is dying.
Rameses wishes he were dying. But then Moses would not get to see him, would he?
He does not understand.
It is late at night. There are no whispers.
Rameses is staring at the murals before him. The light flickers like his heartstrings.
He does not understand.
He sees his other self on the wall—an artist's rendering of him—as part of the procession.
But where is Moses?
The Prince Regent does not understand. Moses is supposed to be next to him.
He longs to see Moses' smile.
But Rameses is alone.
One day, he will see Moses.
But, for now, he has a duty. A duty to Egypt. A promise to his absent brother.
Rameses will be well. After all, he is strong.
He prays that Moses—wherever he is—will be strong, too.
Dedication: To those who wanted more