Some stuff you might want to know before reading this:

The Season of Inundation was one of the three seasons in the traditional Egyptian calendar, and referred to the annual flooding of the Nile. Without the flooding, the crops wouldn't grow, and people would starve.

Set and Horus are two Egyptian gods. Set is the God of chaos, and was especially sacred to Rameses and his father, Seti. He seduced his nephew Horus in an attempt to gain power over him, and that's pretty much all you need to know for this story.

The Valley of the Kings is where dozens of Egyptian pharaohs are entombed, among them Rameses.

Osiris is the god of the afterlife, murdered by his brother. He is considered a god of rebirth and renewal.

A shewt is one of the five parts of an Egyptian soul, and is represented by the shadow.

Ka is another part of the soul, essentially the life force.

In the Season of Inundation, Rameses dreams of death.

The rising water brings with it celebration; the gods have seen fit to grant them one more year of plenty—but he can find no joy in it. He prods at the edges of this newborn grief within himself and marvels at its depth. Time flows past him as steadily as the Nile; when he is of age, a few short months from now, he will be regent at his father's side. He imagines instead sinking into the muddy water, the stars blotting themselves black with the ink-stained cloak of night.

At the first banquet, held to open the festivities, the two princes sit beside each other, to the right of the pharaoh. Moses notices his brother's silence and is louder than he usually is. He slings a casual arm around Rameses' shoulder and gulps down a goblet of wine. The crowd around them is loud enough that Moses tilts their heads together when he speaks.

"Why has the light fled from your face?" Moses wonders loudly, a wide grin failing to mask the real concern in his eyes. "Come; let's join the revelers in the streets." His fingers stroke lightly against Rameses' spine, thin and dry and suddenly intolerable. Moses is too close—has always been too close—for a brother. And though Rameses loves him for it, he finds it suddenly acutely constricting.

Rameses pushes Moses' hand away. "I have no need for your concern," he says, with more venom than he intended. "Leave me."

He goes to bed early, and dreams of torches in the streets and a river red with wine, and Moses, always Moses, beckoning and laughing and drawing him in.

Seti takes him to visit the Valley of the Kings. The air is thick with the smell of the flood, so that Rameses nearly chokes. They abandon their servants and tread the holy ground alone. The sun boils down and Rameses imagines it stripping the skin from their bones, leaving their ka bare and unprotected.

"This is the final resting place of all the great pharaohs who have ruled over these lands," Seti intones. "Someday, perhaps soon, this will be my resting place. Someday it will be yours."

Wind whips the sand around their feet so that there is hardly an earth to stand on—he imagines sinking into it, falling through the world and past the remains of the ages that have passed away.

At night he prays to Osiris to guide him safely through death, to whatever might come after. Water creeps up to the palace, to the temple. He clutches his linens about his shoulders and that night he dreams of the gods, pale green skin and the heads of beasts, pressing the life from his chest.

In the early hours of the morning, when the moon still paints the river white, Rameses slips from his chambers and slides through deserted halls to the river, which no longer has any discernible banks. The water is cooler at night but still warm enough to startle. Rameses inhales deeply before shedding his clothes and wading in. When the water reaches his waist he leans back and floats, still and slow.

The shifting of feet is all that it takes to alert him to Moses' presence.

"I followed you," his brother says simply. Of course he did—it is an irritating, presumptuous little brother habit of his, and one that Rameses is immeasurably fond of. It is as though he has a second shewt forever behind him—another part of his soul.

Rameses paddles languidly to shore and tugs at his brother's ankle. Moses does not need much prompting to slide in beside him, and the two are weightless beside each other, parallel as they let the current play loosely with their limbs. The lapping water brings Moses' wrist to Rameses palm, and he can feel the life pulsing there, as immediate and necessary as the Nile.

"You shouldn't be afraid," Moses tells him. "Someday you will be a great pharaoh—the greatest there has been, perhaps."

And—perhaps—he will be. But what he fears is the immensity of the life stretching out before him, alone. I cannot rule without you at my side, he wants to tell Moses. I will not let Osiris tear me from you. The words come easily to his mind but his mouth refuses to move. You are as much my soul as I am.

He says nothing, but curls his fingers lightly about Moses' arm, feels the pulse point there. The brief contact, his wrinkling hand over Moses' cool, slick skin, is enough to make him shiver.

Rameses opens his eyes as Moses pulls away, but he does not follow his brother's movements as Moses shifts upright. The water comes up to Moses' neck, nearly, and he braces himself with a hand on Rameses' shoulders.

"If you do end up doing horribly," Moses says, teasing, "then I can take over for you." Moses licks his licks and smiles, kohl-rimmed eyes bright and mischievous. Rameses lies utterly still in the water and thinks of Set's lust for Horus, of defiling and dominating and something beneath that, trembling and undefined.

When Moses bends down to kiss his lips, Rameses rests an unsteady hand on his brother's neck. Water trickles down Moses' face and collects in the soft hollow of Rameses' collar bone. Floating in the Nile, in the middle of the night, Rameses is not afraid to die.

"You will be a great pharaoh," Moses murmurs into Rameses hair. "And I shall be proud to stand by your side." Rameses tilts his head back until his eyes are underwater and feels Moses' fingers at his throat and Moses' lips pressing open and wet at his neck.

They say the kings are divine, descended from the mighty Osiris, but—gasping beneath his brother's twisting fingers—Rameses does not feel particularly holy, nor does he wish to.

"My brother," Moses' voice sings, high and clear. "I treasure you above all men."

Rameses shudders and Moses moves to lock his brother in a tighter embrace. Their breath mingles in the air between them.

"Moses," Rameses whispers. "You mustn't ever leave me."

Moses says nothing. His lips on Rameses', his hand curling in Rameses' hair, the delicate press of their bodies beneath the surface of the water—

For now, it's promise enough.

Author's Note: Wow, it is weird to be back on after more than a year! But I really wanted to publish this here. I've been looking for Rameses/Moses for YEARS, and I'm willing to bet someone else has been, too. They have awesome chemistry...for animated characters.

It was a little tricky writing this, trying to sort out Bible!canon from the movie!canon from actual historical events. Since apparently no historical Moses actually existed, I just used movie!canon for him. Rameses was a little harder, since he actually existed, and is known as Rameses the Great. In movie!canon, he let the slaves escape and apparently was a pretty bad pharaoh. In real life, the story of the Exodus never happened and Rameses led the Egyptians to countless victories in battle and was a great architecht and city-builder.

Any corrections on the Egyptian terminology I used would be welcome!

One final thing: while researching this fic, I came across a REALLY interesting essay on homosexuality in ancient Egypt that can be found at

http : / / epistle . us / hbarticles / ancientegypt1 . html

I highly recommend reading it, and some of the other articles on that site. It's truly fascinating.

Hope you enjoyed! Reviews are always appreciated.