Pharaoh Pt 3

Part 3 I published on TH (kat_rina_art) a few weeks ago. This image is of Pernicious, a character in Pharaoh's story.

   Pharaoh stepped quietly through the dungeon behind the arena. The metallic scent of blood clung to the air, and talon scraped against stone as he worked through the bottom tier of the dungeons. Along the way, Pharaoh gave water to several prisoners, who watched him wide-eyed and warily. Distant shouts echoed through the bars, and chains rattled from within the cells. He picked up discarded bones and fur as he walked, placing them in one of the bags slung around his neck.
After a couple empty cells, Pharaoh arrived at the cell of a large Sandwing with speckled mauve scales and a dark purple sail. Her wings shone with stars and a line of black scales ran down her sides. She looked up at him with weary violet eyes.
"Pernicious," Pharaoh greeted the hybrid, dipping his head. "I brought more water, and this," he said, offering her a waterskin and holding out a suture needle. Pernicious had been wounded in the arena earlier, and prisoners' injuries were most often not tended to. She accepted the water and poured some on her wound, a gash along the side of her shoulder. He reached inside the bars to help her stitch the wound shut, and she winced.
"Thank you," she said, her voice rasping. Pernicious had already fought three times since she arrived in the dungeon two weeks ago, and Pharaoh could tell she was exhausted. He didn't have authority in the dungeon, nor did he have any keys, so just coming down and opening their cage wouldn't be an option. Pharaoh usually tried to speak to many of the prisoners at least a little, but Pernicious was easier to convince to talk to him than most others in the dungeon. Which, he figured that it made sense for prisoners to not want to speak to him.
"Don't thank me," he replied gently. As they sat there in silence, Pharaoh lashed his tail. "Ghost is dead." He said, looking down at his talons. He had already spoken with Pernicious before about the uneasy prospect of Mirage's ambition, and the hope that Xerocole would take the throne first, but the topic would hardly leave his mind for long. It was one thing for Coyote to keep the Arena running as it has since founding or for Xerocole to try to shut it down if she became queen, but if Mirage took the throne he could only imagine. Leagues more blood would be shed under her rule, and he imagined she would probably force even more dragons into fights with petty laws.
"What happened?" Pernicious asked, unspoken thoughts stirring behind her eyes. Pharaoh sat completely still, looking at Pernicious seriously.
"They found his body in the desert, just left there, torn open and abandoned," he said, his voice low as discomfort crept through him. "Mirage murdered him, I know it."
"Pharaoh, do you know what Silver Serpent is?" She suddenly asked. Pharaoh thought, but felt no familiarity. He shook his head.
"What's that?" Pharaoh asked, tilting his head. She shook hers, and seemed to think for a moment.
"Might be worth looking into, I suppose. I don't know," she said. Pharaoh sat still for a moment, thinking to himself in an uncomfortable silence. After a minute, Pharaoh shifted to his feet, taking the empty waterskin from the night before with the needle.
"I'll bring more water next time. Good luck," he told her, dipping his head to her before stepping away. Along the way, he helped to clean up other prisoners' messes and pick up the bones from their meals. A Rainwing he passed requested that he bring something other than meat for him. Nodding silently, he noted to check the kitchens for the next time he visited. As Pharaoh made it to the exit, he saw a Sandwing guard eyeing him. Adopting a more serious expression, Pharaoh stood with his head raised and bristled his spine.
"Is something wrong?" he challenged, and the guard stiffened. Had he seen Pharaoh speak with the prisoners?
"No, Prince," the guard responded curtly, offering Pharaoh a slight bow. Pharaoh lingered for only a moment longer, lashing his tail as he left. There wasn't anything he could really do if the guard had known something, or even if he told anyone - but he tried sometimes to be at least a little intimidating.
It was a long walk up the stairs from the dungeon to the surface, and Pharoah's talons echoed down the endless staircase like snakes rattling in the distance. As he reached the exit on the surface, a chill went down his spine. Stepping through the doorway, Pharaoh saw his mother, Queen Coyote, striding down the hall. When she saw him, a flash of inquisitive intent glinted in her eyes, and she quickened her pace. He walked calmly toward her, the bags of bones and waterskins around his neck clacking together like kicked stones and wet clay.
"Good evening, mother," Pharaoh greeted her as she came close, offering a deep bow. She looked him up and down for a moment, before snagging a talon on his bags and furrowing her brow.
"What do you need these for?" she questioned, the rubies in her crown like burning embers in the hot firelight. Pharaoh looked down at his own talons.
"I was only helping to clean up, discarding the waste and all that," Pharaoh said, half-opening one bag to show the Queen the bunch of bloodstained bones and fur. She dropped the bags and her face flashed disgust, before she looked down at him unreadably again.
"Very well. I'd just hope you're not getting too social," Coyote said, waving her tail. "Off you go, then." She was moving away from him before she'd even finished speaking, and Pharaoh nodded curtly before stepping quickly down the hall.

After he'd finished taking care of the bones and bags, Pharaoh returned to his quarters and lie by the window, watching the night sky beyond. There was only one moon tonight, a waning crescent in the inky blanket of stars above. His starry night faded into sleep, and the next day came without warning.