Lion Head Mesa milkweed

truthfully, she could not bring herself to face another until well into the late afternoon.

she continued to turn away every face at her door. she continued to refuse things offered to her. she did not spoke a single word more than was needed, to keep prying eyes and ears at bay.

the sun had begun its descent by the time she followed down @Senmut's trail. her steps heavy, her eyes worn by her emotions.

yet otherwise she remained composed as she came upon him.

her need for him was perhaps exposed in how raw her voice cut.

hem,

she did not taunt him in these dark hours upon her.

senmut loved the water. 

swimming was one of the singular pleasures possessed by a fellahin. for that was where his parentage hailed, and it was a fact that did not embarrass the hard-working boy.

when the princess materialized out of the darkening air, it would be just as senmut was pulling himself from the river's edge. water streamed from his coat. she was tearstained and much changed from the first time he had seen her.

the princess makono was upright and pale, like the curve of the full moon. touched in gold like her father, she wore his imperial stare. but where his was unmoving, hers was fathomless. she was breathtaking, a jewel which held brilliant fire. 

"amiirad," senmut whispered, creeping with wet fur to lie at her paws. he was shaken by the vision of makono where nazli had brought warmth.

she said nothing of the wet state of his fur, of the gaze she had but for a moment upon him in the water.

she said nothing as he crept to her paws, her title on his tongue. she found only heartache in hearing it now. but how could he know?

he lied upon the earth that had once felt so blessed.

she sat upon the ground, gazing down at him still at her paws and feeling utterly empty. as if she had poured the contents out of her heart in earlier tears. unable to summon a single feeling now.

not even pride nipped at her.

you are devoted to akashingo, but not from here. not yet long rooted in us.

she whispered to him in all things said.

i need your ears, i need your words. they must stay here between us and the Gods.

she spoke of his origins. senmut tensed.

he sat upright, the picturesque view of a scribe. "dictate to me, great one." she invoked the right of royalty to scribe, and that was her anonymity in his silence.

he wondered if this was taught to the children of royalty, or if they grew knowing.

for a moment she grew tense.

she wondered if somehow the words may leave here, but had her father not suggested this very thing? to go and speak to the priests?

the bond felt withered.

i cannot be pharaoh of akashingo. she told him finally, voice still a hoarse whisper.

i cannot feasibly be queen of akashingo without a pharaoh either. she wished to cry once more but no tears would come to her. even if she wished for them to.

tell me, hem, please. is to expect anything else to try and change Ma'at? does this land not have what i wish?

princess makono was disconsolate in the role appointed her.

but he did not understand her ambition to be pharaoh! they lived and died at the whims of others. and what of the brothers she would displace from their place in that line of men?

but she knew the words. the ways of Ma'at. the word of that name. senmut blanched beneath his crimson fur. "when you die, Ma'at weighs your heart against Her feather. she is truth and morality. she is The Way."

his heart raced.

"if you could travel to the underworld, divine one, without dying, and bring back a vision of Ma'at —" his voice trailed, for now they delved to dark places. "why do you desire to be pharaoh?" his electric eyes were solemn, turning away from her now.

she felt grim.

darkened further by the words of the hem, but these were the things she needed to hear. even if they caused her heavy eyes to close for a long moment.

not caring anymore if he could not gaze upon her. perhaps there was comfort in her not being seen fully in these vulnerable moments.

my mother passed not so long ago, hem. they mourned and mourned. she was the first queen of akashingo. i am the image in her wake and yet i feel so far from her now.

her heart hurt worse now.

still i have learned my lessons of royalty, even already completed an emissary task to a military outpost. pharaoh says i have done more than of all his children — more than crown prince.

she felt far away, as if she was out there on the water, floating along.

i have the makings to carry the images of both my mother and father. to maintain the divine and flourish the lands we claim. is it immoral to wish to carry these things on? will she weigh my heart and find —

she could not speak further.

the princess poured out her heart.

she envied. she had done much for akashingo. she was beyond her young life. and yet she would not be handed the scepter to the kingdom.

senmut knew he must tread softly now. he shook his head. "none of your desires could be immoral. it is — right, to command that which you deserve, divine one." the hem's voice was earnest; his gaze moreso, forgetting only for a second that she was royal and he a servant.

"she could not find you without fault. you must only continue to prove to pharaoh that it must be you. that you alone can change Ma'at."

to command that which she deserved.

how she wished so horribly that she could bring herself to weep again. that Ma'at Herself may hear her tears and see the work makono did. that her father may see what the hem saw, what Ma'at saw. or perhaps the problem was that he did.

still he did not bend.

she looked deep into his face now. her hurt exposed for him in a way none had ever seen it.

she felt bare before him, before the Gods and Goddesses.

he told me you'd say Ma'at cannot be changed. had it been a lie? had he not expected the hem to say the things he did now?

what will be done if the time comes and still he does not see me as fit? if he still believes Ma'at cannot be changed despite all my efforts?

senmut was quiet.

she was so young, not even a year. and yet already she had done more for akashingo than him. his eyes were respectfully downturned, but his heart raced with the ferocity of the living God.

"amiirad. do you know how one takes the crown from the crown prince?" here he truly was treasonous, compelled by the way she was open and tearstained before him.

would she dread the answer?

would the truth set her free? shake her off this course?

her gaze was desperate, a silent plead in her look. her lips quivered for a moment before she could bring herself to speak.

tell me, hem.

his voice dropped to a whisper.

"it is said that ramesses the second was not the first chosen as crown prince. two brothers before him died. it was not until his conquest at kadesh that seti named him." what did she know of her father's origin? senmut was a backwater fellahin, but even across rough water did the stories come.

the young priest drew a breath and bowed low, prostrating himself once more. "do not be impatient, princess. gather your own court. know who in the palace will be loyal to you."

she felt...betrayed.

the fracture in her heart amplified into a canyon. her own father had not been chosen as crown prince. two before him. not a word of any of this.

had he felt ashamed? had he thought he might have silenced her pride if he said nothing of this?

she was advised to not wait, to gather a court now. find those loyal to her. she liked to think she saw this in the hem before her. for him to have so boldly told her information that had not even spilled over her father's lips.

she looked upon him with heavy favor now.

her eyes wet near the corners now. she could feel a repeat from earlier. she knew she would crumple in on herself before long.

thank you, hem. she cooed through a half-broken voice. prepared to leave now, but she would have a fine meal sent to him from one of the fellahin's later. uncertain how else to payback the man without raising eyebrows towards their directions.

she needed time in these long few hours to come.