Sly Fox Sand Dunes arid

siani had never seen so much sand before. it stretched out endlessly in all directions, golden and warm beneath her paws, shifting with each step. the sun hung high, beating down, making the air waver in the distance like water that never came.

but she wasn't bothered. no, she was far too busy watching a tiny beetle skitter across the sand in front of her.

she dropped low, belly brushing against the warmth of the earth, ears perked as she tracked its movements. with a careful paw, she nudged at it, watching as it flipped onto its back and struggled for a moment before righting itself.

you're tough, she murmured, tilting her head. she gave it another gentle poke, watching as it adjusted, determined to continue on its way.

the desert was big, empty, but she wasn't alone. not as long as she had this little beetle to keep her company.

samirseti watches her from the heights of the dune.

a woman.

she tracks a beetle, nudging it along. her beauty is not lost on the pharaoh. here, amidst the endless sands, she is alone, and in need of harbor.

let vahanet be that.

still, he does not move. the desert demands patience, and samir is well-versed in its teachings. she will sense him soon enough. when she does, he will descend.

the beetle wobbled under her touch, determined despite her gentle prodding. siani giggled softly, tail flicking behind her as she rested on her elbows, chin just barely brushing the warm sand. she liked this little thing, admired its stubbornness.

but then, something shifted. not in the sand, not in the sky—within her.

instinct prickled along her spine, warning her that she was no longer alone. the desert, vast and empty, should have carried no eyes but the sun’s. yet she felt them. a presence. a watchful weight pressing against her back.

slowly, she lifted her head, turning her gaze from the tiny beetle to the crest of the dune.

and there he stood.

lanky, poised, statuesque beneath the sun’s glare. he was golden in the light, a figure carved from the very sands themselves. she did not flinch, did not cower—curiosity replaced any fear she should have had.

oh! she murmured, mostly to herself.

then, a smile—small, playful.

have you come to play with us?

from his perch atop the dune, samirseti remains silent for a moment longer. a specter in black and gold, his gaze burning brand.

he steps forward, descending the dune with a feline grace.

the beetle scuttles beneath her, fleeing the encroaching shadow of the pharaoh.

samirseti watches it go with cold eyes. what a poor, unfortunate girl—lost within the desert's amass, making friends of bugs.

samirseti halts, the ghost of a smile curling upon his lips. it seems he had things to attend. perhaps a family. and then with a scarred foreleg, he sweeps. and you, girl? have you a family?

siani swallows, throat bobbing as her gaze flicks from the displaced beetle to the man who had cast it aside. the desert was silent save for the wind whispering over the dunes, tugging at her veil, her silks.

her fingers twitch where they rest against the sand, curling slightly. she does not flinch beneath his gaze, though it weighs heavy.

i did. the words are soft, quiet, yet they carry. she lifts her chin, meeting his eyes with something careful, something guarded. i am a handmaiden of princess madhuri.

a pause. her breath stills.

but i do not know where she is.

a handmaiden with no princess, a murmur; words neither cruel nor kind, merely an observation.

his head tilts, the faintest shift in expression—thoughtful, considering.

then you are untethered, he decides. a lone star in a sky too vast to navigate alone.

his tail flicks, sand whispering beneath its movement. he shifts forwards where sands spill onwards down dunes, and extends the girl a paw to take.

i am pharaoh samirseti of vahanet, god-king of the lotus sands, suten sa ra. a voice smooth, gilded with the weight of divinity. my queen is never without need of hemetu.

you are welcome with us. first: what is the name of this girl?

siani lowered her head quickly, a knee-jerk reaction to the weight of his title, to the smoothness of his voice that coiled around her like a serpent.

forgive me, pharaoh, she murmured, ears pulling back slightly. i did not mean to speak so... familiar.

her voice was soft, careful, like stepping over loose stones in a river. untethered. the word rang in her ears, and she did not know if she liked it. but it was true. she had no princess. no purpose.

her gaze flickered toward his extended paw, then back up to his face. was this an offer? a command? she did not know, only that she could not refuse.

my name is siani, she finally answered, a breath of hesitation lingering in her tone. i will serve as you see fit.

his paw does not lower. it remains, an unspoken invitation, a silent decree.

"no, siani. you will serve as the gods see fit."

he steps closer, casting a long shadow over her form.

"and they have delivered you here. a vessel waiting to be filled."

his chin lifts, appraising.

"so tell me, daughter of the shifting sands—" a pause, the barest smile. "—do you wish to be remade?"

siani swallowed hard, the weight of his gaze pressing down upon her like the desert sun.

she nodded, head dipping low, eyes briefly to the sand beneath her paws before flicking back up.

yes, pharaoh. her voice was steady, but there was a tremor beneath it—whether from fear or reverence, she did not know.

her throat tightened.

i will serve as the gods will it.

she breathed in the heat, the dust, the scent of him—strength and power wrapped in gold.

remake me.

"good," he purrs, a quiet thing, low and indulgent. she is willing, eager, but untouched by the true weight of her words.

innocent.

how fun.

samir chuckles, soft as shifting sand, and turns, his stride fluid, expectant. samir would have fun unfurling her, seeing what might unravel.

"come, hemetu," he laughs softly to her, and leads her into the hearth of vahanet. where she would serve—him, and his wife; both in completely different ways.