Two Eyes Cenote flesh & toil

heavy steps sought out @Eset.

he had not seen her — since. not alone, only in passing, each in their duties.

khusobek found his shoulders tight with the anticipation of seeing her again, for he had watched her slowly grow in power.

quietly, he waited in a silent corridor beneath the strange earth, hoping to hit her ear as he called her name.

She hears her name on his voice. A long drawn breath is followed by a soundless release, obedient steps lead to where Khusobek stands solidly in red.

There is something dark and biding about the mazoi, and Eset, repulsed by her own fierce callousness, feels herself stiffen at the sight of him. Poised deference she hopes veils this as she looks into his face silently for a moment and then away.

The hall is stifling.

“How are the accommodations here, my Lord?” The tone is clinical.

the jewel held brilliance but no warmth. khusobek was dismayed to see that eset's eyes did not change for him.

"they are empty," he told her on a brusque note, cold eyes searching. and then, relenting.

"the queen will retain her fellahin and guards on her honeymoon. you will be here longer than i. so, what do you think of muat-riya?"

were they to engage now in a different sort of locked horns?

The dark brows of her face slip before pulling back up into a look of quiet impasse. “They will be filled.”

Her tail ticks once with a muted flourish. It is difficult not to look at him, even when she fears seeing the proof of her lapse.

“There is much work to be done here,” a vague answer is given in response. She had a good deal of impressions and she paired them equal parts caution. “Why do you ask, my Lord?” He had not summoned her here for small talk.

But a question of her own, one that has weighed heavy and circles back to their initial agreement, “Is the Epra-ha prepared to ascend?”

Her eyes cast forward.

"so you believe it should be he," khusobek glowed, her question unanswered, thinking himself to have caught eset in a summary deceit. but there was none. she was loyal to queen and hereditary prince as any of their lot should be.

the crocodile simply found the devotion to senmut quite misplaced.

"i have heard no such rumblings," he told her, leaning one hard shoulder against the wall. "but now there are five who could fit onto that that throne: senmut, thutmose, rashephses, the princess ashikaga, or the queen herself. it is unwise to place all your hopes in one man, eset. men are fallible."

the teeth, glittering in a knife-grin.

“So you believe it should not,” she counters, “and who wins your loyalty?”

She watches as he amuses himself, this game that was to him a laugh, or perhaps with levity that was intent to finesse something. Almost impulsively she had his own bearing reflected, shedding careful neutrality. Her eyes flick up to his. It seems a concession for him to talk about who she was.

“How helpless. It is a wonder I’ve survived at all without your sage advice, mazoi,” she whispers with derisive charm.

"rashepses. he is a man, with a man's red blood. senmut belongs to the gods and he is food for them in a way he can never be devoted to a woman. that is why he will not be pharaoh."

eset's eyes swallowed him, seared his blood to a heated point; he pushed away from the wall. "it will be rashepses you stand behind, rashepses you serve. it will be to him you announce the birth of princes and princesses, as hebsut." his eyes shone, and he moved as if to kiss her, though did not truly touch. "you will survive it. but you have not served a pharaoh."

She does not anticipate his suddenness, she takes an involuntary step back, muscles tightening over the intrusive edge in her stomach. He could upbraid an uncivil tongue, though she does not think he will while she walks in the light of Queen Toula’s favor and it is this which leads her to bridle taller to take in the full measure of his cold eyes. Her veins lit.

Hebsut.

Is he an ally or an opponent?

He could want to breed fear. Scared servants are easier to control. He could build up a dependence, so when she needed guidance, she would come running. A pawn moved by his hand. She hadn’t served a Pharaoh, but she had served men. She recognized the ancient patterns. Repressive. Bureaucratic.

She was to be in control now. Five to vie for the seat of Pharaoh, but one board to play upon- scrubbed, designed, mounted by her hand.

“I can handle Pharaoh,” a careful intake of breath. Her eyes pass between his then down to his mouth. She thinks about war. She thinks about taking her lips to the rough jaw of Sobek.

in truth, khusobek did not know what he wished. the queensguard flourished in intrigue; without such, he was bored. empty. hungry.

empty.

he saw her eyes flit to his mouth; khusobek felt he knew what she thought, even if her loveliness was indeed inset with an iron brace of stubbornness. 

perhaps they might be allies. the crocodile knew where his lot must fall. it did not mean he trusted the prince, or even enjoyed his company. but ambition knew no father, no brother, no end. and jodai meant closeness to the Horus Throne in a way that allowed a man to touch his own fate.

"good then," and his own look upon her dark countenance was caress, "for you may very well be called upon to handle pharaoh, eset."

he wanted her; he wanted her, now, here, unheedful of visiting emissaries or the eyes of their royal herself.

but khusobek stepped to pass, their shoulders brushing; he did not think she would stop him.

A need tightens. But she would not stop him, instead press into the stone wall behind her, punctuating the returned silence with two sharp intakes of breath.

She did have worry now. But it was not for herself, it was for Toula, who deserved a partnership, one the fellahin was certain would be honored and shared by Senmut. Had she not seen something real, a true tenderness form between them? After-which, she’d been quick to write off both the commander and the prince from the river kingdom.

And Khusobek; he was complex to her, in a way she could not parse. So she wouldn’t. He remained somewhere midfield, where she forbid herself to be pulled. But when next he returned to his chamber, it would be laden with comforts; rich pelts and marbled meats, fermented berry-wine, cedar scents, and all the glittering splendors to please the senses.

Filled. She never wanted to hear a critique on her work again.

A third breath and Eset again straightens her composure, returning to task.

<3!!

the crocodile would return that night to a feast; he gorged himself on finest drink and the quivering fat of duck cut from its bones, on sweets of wildflower and honey; he flung himself back on silken fur and wondered if pharaoh himself had lived so well.

he slept without calling for company of a spice-tasted sort.

the next day's patrol stood khusobek in the sun for a long while, enough to near be blinded by a glitter near his paw when Ra's eye turned upon it. smoothing golden sand, he discovered something warm to the touch, mid-sized, and incomprehensible enough to bring a smile for hard lips.

wrapped in a soft if plain portion of sheepskin, it would glow for eset's eye that evening, its sunset shade vibrant against the wool.

and by its plainness might she see that he had found and prepared it himself. not the discarded idle stone of a long-dead necklace, not the hungers of his body answering her own, perhaps not even something useful.

but it was there all the same, and as khusobek stood beside the queen's door that night, he hoped the strange stone with its inner blossom had held the heat of the sun until eset touched its surface.