At what point indiscriminate chance and simple good fortune became God's work, Aaron was not sure.

He much preferred to quote the former, since the few things in their lives that weren't governed by Egypt had very little pattern to them. Poor timing brought them bad things, and sheer dumb luck brought them good things.

Miriam disagreed. But then, her faith had always been very different to his.

Whether she considered the events of Moses' seventeenth birthday as anything but the most beautiful blessing and smallest of miracles, Aaron never thought to ask. He didn't think it significant enough - content in only the knowledge that it made his sister happy - and wouldn't even imagine questioning it until many years later.

Celebrations held in the palace meant that everything had to be perfect. Fresh food had to be made, a vast amount of cleaning to be done. Fine gifts to be embroidered, carved, molded or sewn.

And, of course, restorations and repairs to be made. Which called for building to be completed.

Building needed materials. Heavy materials - Vast amounts of water and stone that needed transporting to their proper place within the Pharaoh's home.

Aaron was unfortunately accustomed to carrying said materials to where they were needed within the quarries. But taking them up to the palace was another matter entirely.

Reaching the palace meant climbing steps.

Lots of steps.

He'd tried to count them when he was younger, when he had only been expected to carry bundles of straw. He'd reached a number somewhere past two hundred, before becoming distracted.

He never completed the count, even though he'd had quite a few opportunities to do so. It wasn't easy to focus on tallying your footfalls when you were carrying something much heavier than straw on your back.

Jagged stone scraped his skin as Aaron hauled the sack over his shoulder, letting it drop callously to the floor. It joined a collection of similar bags, all filled with the same pieces of stone. As soon as he had dumped his cargo, his hands joined the many others in sifting through the sacks, tossing rock after rock onto the growing piles that surrounded them.

The towering heaps never seemed to change in size, never rising higher than Aaron's head as he continued to deposit armfuls of rock at their base. It probably had something to do with the column of people taking the freshly sorted materials upon their own backs, hoisting them into new sacks so they could be transported to their final destinations inside the palace.

It was an efficient system, it really was. One that was difficult to appreciate if you were an unwilling part of, however.

Tedious as it was dividing the peddles from the boulders, Aaron was quietly grateful to have the weight off his back. The edges of his vision were filled with similar expressions of relief, even as the empty sacks were dragged up again, their owners beginning their climb back down the colossal staircase.

Aaron almost wanted to grumble as he took the last stone from his own sack, huffing as he turned it over in his hand, frowning irritably at the thing. A huge anti-climax, if he said so himself. The hand-sized rock was his one-way ticket back down from the palace - to pick up yet another load of stone and make yet another trip up the never-ending flight of steps. Sometimes on the way up, he wondered if he'd actually make it to the top. He always did, but the fact that the thought occurred spoke volumes.

Wrapping the neck of the sack around his hand, he swung the empty bag over his shoulder. He moved to make his way back down the stairs, sparing just enough time to touch the arm of another worker briefly. A older man, supported by a walking stick, who's wrinkled hands shook with each stone he lifted. Aaron's free hand held on for the smallest of moments, the other slave smiling tiredly back at him before continuing to sort through his own pile of stones.

It was enough to keep Aaron's spirits up. As up as they could be, at least, as he made his way through the pillars of the palace entrance, ready to rejoin the column retracing themselves back down the steps.

Fate had other plans.

"Brother, you are a man now! And it's high time you started to enjoy the benefits of being one!"

Why Aaron stopped at such a foreign shout, one that couldn't possibly concern him, he couldn't say. The fact that he not only stopped, but turned his head towards the noise, was an even greater mystery.

"And, in celebration of your arrival, seventeen years to this day - I offer you your pick of the finest slaves in all the lands combined!"

Aaron's expression quickly turned from curiosity to one of cold disgust. The brief pause in the speech, broken by the surrounding people's cheers, was enough to survey the scene more closely, however.

Though far enough away not to notice him, Aaron could still make out the smiling features of the man atop his wooden podium, addressing the crowd. A group divided, it seemed, between delighted-looking nobles - who had apparently turned up for the event - and a mismatched group of slaves, huddled between the audience's rows.

They were an irregular bunch. A mix of skin tones and hair colors, of features from Midian to Nubia and back. Not one of them recognizable. None of them like the workers continuing to haul stones twice their weight up the palace steps. Aaron felt a bitter smile tug at his mouth. Apparently a Hebrew slave just wasn't exotic enough for Egypt's second prince. He was regretfully unsurprised.

"You're too kind, Rameses!" A second voice spoke above the crowd, laughing as a second figure appeared on the podium, "But how can I make such a choice, you've given me far too many options!"

The man who spoke, his hand rising only to fall lovingly upon Rameses' back, had the sack slipping from Aaron's shoulder. It hit the floor with a dull hiss, dust escaping from within. Though his fingers still held tightly around its neck, the watching slave no longer paid it any attention.

His eyes were focused too heavily on the two princes, their smiles illuminated in the sun as they looped their arms around each other. Stood closely together, as brothers.

"I thought you'd say that." Rameses continued, ruffling the neatly cut hair atop his sibling's head, "I know you too well, little brother."

Little brother. The words were spoken so softly, few felt their painfully sharp edge.

"So, to aid your judgement and to entertain on such a magnificent day," With his arms spread wide, Rameses made a sweeping gesture as he stepped back from his brother, "I have devised a test!"

The Egyptian crowd let out a clamor of excitement, formed of gasps and cheers and bouts of laughter. All of what they saw simply an extravagant game, but with people as the board's pieces. Inanimate and none of their concern.

Entertainment as its finest, Aaron thought - something he quickly squashed back into the depths of his mind with a shake of his head. Miriam always said staying out in the heat too long made him bitter. Despite him never, ever voicing these things out loud - especially not within reach of his sister. Somehow though, she knew anyway - As if even the quietest of thoughts were readable to her from his eyes alone.

"The first slave to bring two buckets of water from the river to my brother will win a place in the palace - the rest will be set to work building their Pharaoh's legacy." As if that wasn't incentive enough, Rameses added with a laugh, "I don't think there is need for a reminder of which is the better."

The elder prince shrugged, glancing at the brother by his side, whose face was alight with excitement and anticipation. Rameses chuckled, looking back down at the bewildered slaves below.

He gestured towards the pile of wooden pails, stacked haphazardly at the foot of the podium.

"Well?" He asked, "What are you waiting for?"

The top of the palace steps erupted.

Dust swept up in a cloud of storming feet as the group of men scrambled over each other to grab a pair of buckets for themselves, much to the watching Egyptians' delight and amusement. A commotion that continued as the slaves raced to descend the stairs, tripping over each other as they fought to reach the front of the column. Heads of all kinds turned to follow them as they ran, stumbling and sliding as some lost their footing, the largest of their number merely leaping over the tumbling bodies to carry on their strides.

The pair of princes overseeing the chase let out noises of childish excitement, pointing towards the distant river.

Aaron's gaze followed their gestures, squinting against the sunlight. The Nile shifted and shimmered where it curled across the horizon, glinting like polished metal. He almost felt sorry for the slaves who had began this test with such haste, knowing how truly far away that golden water was. And there was more than just the straight white roads of the Egyptian city to travel through; the runners would then have to navigate the jagged rocks and winding alleys of his own people's dwelling. Even the most muscular of men would fall down from exhaustion by the time he reached the river's edge, let alone make it all the way back - carrying two buckets of water, no less.

If said man didn't know the way, of course.

Or wasn't used to running such a distance, having never done it before.

The idea that blossomed at the back of Aaron's mind, new and small and not fully formed, was not one he actually entertained himself. It must have shown through in his eyes though, or maybe his staring at the glittering river gave more away than he would like - because someone else seemed to have caught on.

A tap on his shoulder, and Aaron jumped, turning in fear to the man who stood beside him. The same man whom he had shared a smile with earlier - a smile that still remained even now.

The stranger squeezed his arm, much like before.

And in his free hand, he offered Aaron his staff.

Miriam always said staying out in the heat too long made him bitter. Despite him never, ever voicing his thoughts out loud - especially not within reach of his sister. Somehow though, she knew anyway - As if even the quietest of thoughts were readable to her from his eyes alone.

Maybe it wasn't just a skill of Miriam's, to be able to tell what her brother thought just by looking at him. Able to hear all the tiniest of thoughts and ideas he would never dare put into words.

Maybe Aaron was just terrible at hiding them.

With a confused glance and a wise nod in response, it took only a moment for Aaron to follow the stranger's gaze, to look across the scene still beside him. The princes and their audience had spread apart, all of them fighting for the best view of their entertainment - but that was not what the old man wanted him to see.

No - It was the something much quieter.

The pair of buckets that remained at the base of the podium.

Aaron was terrible at hiding his thoughts sometimes.

Especially when it came to ideas offering solutions to seemingly unsolvable problems. Like stopping Miriam from staring out the window anymore, gazing up at the palace.

Ideas that offered to ease her worries, to give her back the comfort she found in knowing Yocheved was watching over Moses. Ideas that were reckless, foolish, and reliant on more than all their good fortune combined.

And also completely irresistible.

Fingers wrapped around the wooden branch, Aaron barely had time to thank the man - his mind too focused on his bare feet skidding on the smooth stone of the palace floor. He forced himself not to trip as he weaved his way through the distracted bodies spectating the race, knowing that one stumble now would cost him this one window of opportunity.

He reached the podium, both hands now tightly gripping the staff, as if his life depended on it. With a speed and precision he didn't know he possessed, he dipped the stick's end, hooking it under one, then both, of the roped bucket's handles. In a single sweeping gesture, he raised the pair together, bringing the staff swiftly across his shoulders to hold it firmly with both hands.

The pails dangled carelessly from either end, swishing back and forth as Aaron straightened up, his eyes falling on the podium's occupants.

Well, one of them at least. Rameses was too occupied with the race, laughing as he cheered the runners on, too busy watching to pay mind to the slave as his feet. His company, however, was not so oblivious - his sharp gaze peering directly at the man below him.

Moses looked down at Aaron, though his expression - much to the elder's surprise - did not hold malice or distaste. Instead, it was simply intrigued.

The two of them shared the briefest of pauses - The prince frowning in curiosity, and Aaron staring back, breath held in alarm. Yet Moses did not move to question him, nor try and prevent what he was trying to do. The younger man merely smiled crookedly, and stayed quiet.

Aaron took that silence as permission, a nagging voice in the back of his mind reminding him that he was wasting time. And that was what mattered most in that moment - time.

'Run, Aaron!'

The voice he heard in his ears, calling from a memory he couldn't quite place, set his legs into motion. One after the other, dodging through the crowd, feet pounding against the warm stone. Steps started disappearing under him, moving in a blur as Aaron started to sprint, staff braced against his shoulders and pails knocking against his arms as he ran.

Because when God sends you an opportunity, you don't ask why it was sent.

A/N: Lo-and-behold, this fic actually has a plot to it! Shocking, I know. Anyway, thank you for reading - if you've got this far, you're a trooper!