"One day, we'll destroy each other."

He said as calm as the setting sun, leaving behind trails of violet to decorate the golden horizon across the sand dunes. He wasn't looking down at him, but rather, kept his head up, so that he had a view of his profile - and defined jaw. Strength. A nobleman. His lips were upturned to the slightest wind, and his eyes, now a tranquil shade of dark red, remained still. He breathed out through his nose, and dug his heel into the sand, watching it topple over his linen threaded shoe. He didn't want to admit to the grim reality, that this was true.

He felt like he owed this young Pharaoh, when he really owed nothing.

Deep down, there were repercussions that extended darker than the abyss of the evening. Things he couldn't explain - the repression of his childhood that had been ripped away by authorities the young Pharaoh had no part of. Then again, somebody had to pay for his pain, and he'd lash out like the angriest of asps to prove a point.

Though to attack the Pharaoh, would be like attacking himself. He couldn't remember much past the sacrifical burning that was going to take place, outside of him kneeling down, dirtying his knees and wiping and cleaning out burns that took weeks to heal. Even now, he still had scars left behind by the ordeal. This is why he was in debt, because this man, had saved his life. Though, fate was spiraling them into a new picture.

"That day will come." He said at last, with the ghost of night draping itself across his tanned cheeks, his lavender eyes protruding under white bangs. He felt nothing. Nothing yet, at least. He was still young, and his thoughts were as blurry as his first morning view of his cave's den.

He heard him shift, and finally drop, with the layers and layers of fine cloak draping down with him. He had first approached covered from head to toe - his Eye of Horus headdress had been undetectable. At first, he'd mistaken him for a begging peasant, until he had spotted the red eyes when he lifted his head. 'I came to see you.'

Now they sat, like this in the sand, and he was stretching his legs out, seeming unafraid of being without guards around somebody like him. He was considered dangerous, and unruly, but the presence of this young ruler, did nothing to make his skin crawl. Not yet. Not until he was going to grow into having somebody to blame. He flinched, because he felt fingers on his. Unlike his calloused skin, this feel of skin was soft and well taken care of. Something about it was too comforting for his taste, but he allowed it.

"One day, I could kill you."

Soon they would bury their words and themselves under the depths of stone, and then find each other again - one empty vessel to another.