once the queen had insisted khusobek take some bit of finery for himself.
a necklace with a red stone. simplistic and left to dust in his chambers. he meant it a way to reward one of the
fellahin for their extended service.
it was thus that he lay upon his pallet in the heat of the day and
@Eset came to his mind, she who had not touched him but had laid out the more ornate points of his room.
in time, khusobek sent another to find her and to bring her, his eyes fixed to the entrance.
She thinks first she will not answer his summons. Talk grew limbs in the palace, all the mazoi would now know she is the Queen’s and not so beholden to the demands of the lowborn.
And the soldier- she suspects as a consequence of their last parting she is a fellahin who’s name now sours his tongue. She will tell herself it is in an interest to smooth over resentment that she will come to fill his doorway and for no darker intrigue.
Khusobek glitters upon his bedstone, red growing on him like flames.
“My Lord,” she delivers a customary greeting, eyes shifting from the mazoi to give a glance about the chamber to see that all was in order- no spill to clean nor glass to fill.
Nothing. She returns her eyes.
just a ramble of khu lore smfh
eset, lovely fellahin who had become proud in the palace. yes. it was what palaces were meant to do, and he approved in his own silent way. only the most ambitious of servants could break from that class and perhaps marry upward, or become the concubine of a noble, an assured position with its own benefits.
he wondered how his own fared without the man of the home there to mediate any — difficulties between she and his wife. baketmut had been the only way khusobek had a son of his own. the fact that the concubine had given a son at once while she went on to conceive daughters a second time had humiiated his wife henuttawy. he could only hope she was not so harsh upon baketmut in his absence.
benefits, indeed. but it was one of the highest roles a servant woman could achieve, unless she found some lonely and lesser noble to give her a small estate and a handful of servants. but such marriages had always been arranged by pharaoh, and it was unlikely for a fellahin to become a noble.
why was he thinking of this? of home, of his own estate, his servants, the good beer. the lack of courtplay. the familiarity of his women and children.
but it had never been enough, and he was a fool to pretend otherwise. a rich home, a wife, a concubine, and four children had not kept him from going to hatshepsuun's bed at once, the taste of her power too relentless for her palace captain to even consider foregoing.
the red stone had been polished, its woven circlet dusted carefully as he waited. no one could call the small crimson rock a gem, but it held its own luster, and the craftwork of the binding was skilled. he blinked and returned to himself, pouring back into the small room and akashingo.
she entered. khusobek straightened, and held it out upon his paw. "it is proper that you are rewarded for your service, eset. you made my quarters welcoming. i was not going to add anything to them. but returning in the evening has been pleasant."
the stone glinted in the center of his rough palm.
Absolutely love being treated with your characters’ insights <3
It is beautiful. Heartfuls of metal, properly cast with delicate plating. The red stone flares beneath tapered light, glistering in unison are her eyes. There’s a pleasing contrast over rutted hand. An opulent tribute.
The jagged truth of this is aimed at her across his room. She tenses, bandaging before the cut, eyes downcast.
He mocks her. And why should he not? She has done the same to him.
“I cannot accept this.”
What would he have her do? Play at Queen in the dust of her crude dwelling? There would never be occasion for a coyote servant to don such a splendoured thing.
of course she did not take the offering. this was no act, khusobek felt; it was eset's genuine face, and natural reticence in her station to dismiss the gift.
"you can and you shall," the mazoi rumbled, and the necklace was held ever straighter, more aloft, until it caught the shimmering glow of sunshine in the corridor and fairly scintillated beneath both their gazes.
"come here. let me put it on you." pleasure now, to see her undone by this offering that would be paltry to royal eyes. there was both goodwill and selfishness in the act, but truly khusobek wished to see the red stone at her throat.
He looks pleased. It is inappropriate and he knows it. She will not be convinced of this genuine show of good faith, and even then she likes the mazoi better the way he was before- bitter and incensed by war. Easy to predict.
She complies in stepping forward and turning her back to him, stilling in anticipation of the collar’s weight. Unbidden comes a flickering memory of her claws over his neck.
“Your Queen owns many gilded collars I imagine,” she glances aside but will not see him behind her. Improper; a pushback, if only to convince him this did not hold sway.
his touch was deft and light. khusobek did not linger. his breath riffled through several hairs along her nape. "our queen owns every collar in akashingo. but this one is mine, to share of my own accord."
circling, until eset was before him with her proud back to his bedfurs. the red stone glinted from its new backing of obsidian. "it suits you," khusobek said, and stepped beyond her, back to his couch and the cup of wine upon a shelf.
Close warmth and then the cool arc of absence. Her throat is heavy. Perhaps it is ordinary, though not to her. She looks down at the pendant’s luster: imperial red.
She stands a moment before turning. He will not be baited and she has courtesy enough to lower her knife, trading it for a brush of eyes over the hard lines of his rust-colored face. She is not so naive to believe this comes free of obligation.
“What do you want, Khusobek?”
Had he not everything? The wine, the luxuries, hemets and fellahin for his bed?
at first khusobek did not answer, throat bobbing as he swallowed the rest of the wine in a draught and sat back upon his pelts with a sigh.
of course he wanted her. of course he wanted also to send her to the chambers of zaahira as a gift. but moreso than that, the man was feeling the sting of ambition as toula's suitors gathered.
"you have the ear of the queen and the respect of the other servants. speak warmly of me when you are asked why this was given." ambition must be slowly built, and it started with the loyalty of those lowest.
his eyes drifted with his usual interest upon eset as the wine took hold.
A bribe.
To think for even a moment she could have believed this to be given in earnest. Around her neck the metal coils. But there is no burr of irritation in her manner. She prefers this honesty. She lifts her chin in a fixed show of indifference.
“What are your designs upon the throne?” She asks pointedly. He will give her that much.
khusobek's eyes only glinted in answer. eset was swift. "my designs are the same as any subject of akashingo's: that no foreigner sit upon our throne."
the mazoi leant back upon his elbows. "for now we have no pharaoh and her power is absolute. but when she marries, he will be pharaoh, and all this will be his dominion."
the icewater eyes gleamed in the gentle light. "and all the fellahin will belong to him also." did she now understand? "support the prince. encourage him to put forth his claim as pharaoh. you will be hebsut one day, i am sure of it. and i will be jodai."
khusobek searched for eset's comprehension.
“Thank you for that eye-opening explanation, mazoi.” Her pale eyes shiver over his volatile blue.
That he took her for simple is nothing new. Fellahin are uneducated, underestimated. It serves her most to be of little import.
“I am no sheep in your flock,” her voice is bereft of its characteristic softness. “But so long as our ambitions align,” She nods.
If the Queen herself could not hold the title. Pharaoh Senmut. There could be no others.
"if you understand so much, then do not play-act with me, fellahin," khusobek rejoined, matching her tones and suddenly wishing more wine. "i was sent to safeguard the queen. nothing will stand against me."
his eyes fell to the glimmering jewel at her throat and he softened. "that becomes you." no other servant could boast so much; it proclaimed her status as favoured.
"do not mistake me for a shepherd, eset. i am a wolf." his eyes, hot upon her face, her mouth, her limbs, the necklace; and then a blink, chin raised to dismiss.
“I do what I must,” A low hiss that dares to refute, “I will not get in your way so long as you are not in mine.”
She straightens, pulling back into submission.
“Understand, I must stay vague. I cannot say who this is from. I cannot afford to have the implications hanging over my reputation here.” A gift like this with his name on it could make her seem a kept woman. Less desirable in the eyes of the nobility. She wanted to be seen for her work here, and not as a mazoi's plaything.
“I will speak highly of you.”
For a moment his look roves, hungry for what she could give. She allows it. The necklace tightens, the stone sears.
He is quick to dismiss her and she is too quick to turn for the archway.
thanks for this! literally so fun! <3
why not? why not play the harlot in name if not in deed for khusobek? he glimpsed a great sense of her pride in that moment, her careful propriety, and her terms were accepted with a nod.
eset went away. khusobek lay back upon his pillows, thinking idly of calling for that new one, inji.
but the remembered tone of the red stone at eset's throat kept him as he was.
khusobek did not want the throne. at his station, all he could do was dream of such power. his lover had been a pharaoh. he simply did not dream of being beholden to the whim of country and a childish queen with her own bloodline to sow.
sleep, again, evaded him until the early hours. melody did not summon him. his flesh ached.