Title: Something That Never Happened.
Disclaimer: I don't own Prince of Egypt or any of the characters used in this fic. I make no money from writing this, either.
Summary: A sort of 'if only' story. If only Rameses had listened to reason.
I'd just like to take this opportunity to say that I am very freaked out that I even completed this, so please bare with the grittiness. Also, a little explanation:
I have looked everywhere for Rameses son's name, and I cannot find it. I waded through the Egyptian history and got the super-massive black hole of all headaches. Then, I decided to just find a fitting name from a baby name book and got another headache. Do you know how hard it is to find an Egyptian name in those baby books? Ten thousand Hebrew, English and other such nationalities, but less than two hundred Egyptian—and most are for girls! So, no reviews about the son's name, unless you have it. Reviews are good, but please, please, please, no words about the boy.
Sef- Egyptian lion god in Book of the Dead/Yesterday.
"Rameses, you bring this upon yourself…"
It had been hours since Moses had uttered those words; the weight of them hanging around the palace, and around Rameses, like the worst incense ever made. It left a bad feeling about the pharaoh and even as he tucked his son into his bed just down the hall from his own, he couldn't shake it off.
The silk fabric slithered between his strong fingers as Rameses brought the thin blanket just below his son's chin. The young boy was tired and Rameses could see the sleep creeping into his eyes even as he stretched and tried to remain awake for a little longer.
Rameses smiled down at the young prince, "Good night, Sef. May the gods visit you in your dreams and give you wisdom."
He leaned down to give his son a kiss on the forehead, but, surprisingly, a little hand held Rameses back, his son now blinking back sleep much harder. He leaned up and gave his father that look Rameses had come to associate with his unfailing curiosity. Only, this also seemed…more serious.
"Father," the prince started, "When that man came into the temple…I heard you talking about how things were. What did you mean by that?"
Rameses' throat suddenly seemed quite dry. He swallowed a couple of times, very little saliva forming even with the added effort and he thought about how he should explain this to his son. Should he lie? Should he say his son had misheard? Should he just tell him to go to sleep?
Dark eyes, such a mirror reflection of the boy's would-have-been uncle, stared up still, wanting to know and Rameses decided, despite every teaching and instinct in him that spoke to the contrary, that he should just say what he had to. He loved his son, he should at least try to give him the truth.
"… A long time ago, before you were born, that man, Moses, lived in the palace. He… if he had stayed, he would have been your uncle. But he left."
The little prince entwined his fingers with the pharaoh's, his father's large hand set atop his little chest, thoughts circling his young mind and noticing how the same thing might be happening as well within Rameses's mind. Behind those suddenly sad eyes.
"Why did he leave?"
Rameses gave a heavy sigh and rubbed the ridge between his eyes, "…He found out about something that happened only a little while after he was born. When he was living among the Hebrews, before he came here, your grandfather sent out an order to take all of the newborn slaves and send them into the Nile."
"Send them into the Nile," Sef gasped in absolute horror at the mere thought, "Y-You mean kill them?"
As though a sudden memory of exactly when he had asked this same question to his own father, Rameses imagined what his son imagined. Although, unlike his own thoughts, so long ago now, his mind cut to what had happened really just recently—his brother standing on the Nile's shore as Rameses sent his guards to drag Moses to the boat, that staff being placed in the water and the salty liquid changing a horrible crimson that stained the pharaoh's hands and clothes.
Rameses choked back the sudden bile in his throat, "Yes."
"But why would he do something like that? Father, why?"
Grasping for whatever amount of reason there was or could have been, Rameses repeated back to his son exactly what Seti had said to himself, "They might have risen against us."
Sef blinked up and asked in only a way a child ever could, "But, if grandfather hadn't done that, then their God wouldn't be so angry now, would He?"
As if a giant slab of stone were pressed to his back, Rameses felt a cold chill run through him. How awful it was, when one so young was more right than any adult. Even if that adult was his father and lord of Egypt.
"It's no good talking about what once would have been, my son," Rameses answered finally, feeling so tired all of a sudden.
The way the prince spoke was pleading, but kind and understanding, "I know that you are pharaoh, but, maybe you should talk to Moses again? He's your brother, maybe you should listen to him."
"I'll sleep on it, alright?" Rameses practically whispered, "Go to sleep now, my son."
"Promise you'll talk to him? If you make up, then, maybe you could be brothers, and I could have an uncle."
Rameses smiled, kissing his son once more on the forehead.
"Good night, Sef."
"Good night, father."
Finally, the young prince let go of his father's hand and curled up onto his side, making himself much more comfortable and dozing off almost instantly.