‘Mm, isn’t it obvious…?’ Could it be that Moses still thought of him as a brother despite everything? He, who would have committed the most grievous sin of killing his own sibling, blood related or not? His stubbornness made him want to hold onto the image of Moses and his God being his eternal enemy; not just to himself, but to Egypt as well. How shamed he had been to know that his faith in his own gods was not enough to deter all that happened, that his powers were like a grain of sand within the chaotic waves of the sea: minuscule, and ultimately, unimportant. Such had shaken him to his very core, a reminder that despite being akin to a deity to his people, he was not truly one.
‘God-King’ in title, but mortal in flesh.
He hated the weakness of his own form (the sun was ever shining, ever prominent and powerful, yet he could never become the sun). ❝You still see me as your elder brother?❞ There was such incredulity in his tone, inflection upon that single question as it tapered off before he burst into a fit of laughter. ❝What a fool you are! I would have thought age would have made you wiser, Moses! Ahahahaha!❞ Hand lifting, he slid it through his hair, slicking it back as both a sign of frustration and amusement all in one. Such a bright smile should not be aimed in his direction. He did not deserve it, nor did he want it. His heart would not be softened by this, for there was no forgiveness within him to offer. However, it was true that right now, they were ‘allies’ more or less. He need not forgive his brother just as Moses need not forgive him either. They simply had to work together on a common goal.
Nothing more, nothing less.
The Grail in its monumental and sadistic humor seemed to love summoning mortal enemies and placing them within the same building, but one had to make do. They were but ‘Servants’, after all. There was naught that could be done about such a thing except simply accepting it as a fact and moving on. Laughter stilling, he wiped the edge of his eye to brush away a tear that had collected at the corner of it. ❝I know there is nothing that can deter such ridiculous levels of obstinacy, and so you are free to do as you wish. Simply know that I do not return the sentiment.❞
He chuckles, but it eventually subsides to a thin line. “…You never change, do you, Ramses?”
Loud yet brilliant, stubborn and proud, such is how he knew Ramses even as the years tried to temper that indomitable soul with the same disposition of their father ( stolid and distant, luminescent but austere—a shoreline never to be reached ). He knows in his heart that his brother is more than that heavenly bloodline; he knows that his brother could have been so much more than the deep footsteps of his forefathers if he dared to try. Alas, it was never meant to be.
From the moment he uttered his first words as a babe and recognized the man before him as his brother, he only ever wanted to make everyone around him happy—sacrifice the self for the sake of the many. Such is the bittersweet mantle draped around his shoulders as the pharaoh laughs at him daring to become sentimental, for revealing the humanity long-since discarded the moment he heeded the call of the burning bush. He endures the laughter with a serene expression, understanding the incredulity of everything that pours from his lips and the cruelty that Moses inflicts upon Ramses by continuing to care as if nothing transpired between them. If even murderers can be deemed saints then what would that make him? ( He delivers salvation at the cost of more lives than he can stand to bear—the awful stench of death clinging to him still )
“You... you can hate me as much as you like… But it doesn’t change the fact that we once grew up together, that not a day has passed where I didn’t worry... about.. my arrogant brother…” Hushed tones carry his voice with a somber traumerei. Futility echoes in his stumbles and slowed speech, but he is nothing if not genuine—he has always pushed to speak the truth and only the truth, even if everyone else thought him a false shepherd until the very end.
And is it not natural for the younger to admire the older? Moses certainly admired, believed in, his brother—more than anyone in the world—remembering that glorious incandescence long after everything was said and done. His greatest supporter and motivator, cheering for him still as Egypt’s light refuses to shine upon the children of God. Mauve meets gold as he draws breath in painstaking preparation for what he is about to say next.
“And... I know you feel the same way.”
