Lion Head Mesa thirteenth

we can bts or thread out these references!

senmut was a we'eb no longer.

in three private ceremonies was he made a full priest. the first was with pharaoh, who adjudged him worthy of the light of Amun. the second was with nala, where she bestowed the grace of Hathor upon him. and the third was the sanctified words he had said at the creek.

the hem walked with purposeful strides. regular worship, new respect, and the favour of the gods had lifted his head. 

now he came to the chambers of the crown prince @Makono and cleared his throat. "please announce me," he asked the servant and when he was admitted, settled his eyes upon the divine young god.

she had thought the work of a soldier had kept thoughts of senmut at bay.

but then arose the problem that when she did not think of senmut, she missed nazli fiercely. so they ran her mind in equal turns in her scarce silent moments.

now she was preparing in her chambers for the day. a fellahin had worked out the tangles of her fur and the knots in her shoulders. quickly she sent the fellahin away when the priest sought to arrive.

come, she ushered him in warmly and with delight.

furs that had remained in a place he had once taken up residency in, during her most vulnerable moments. now remained vacant and yearning for his presence.

the prince too seemed older, wiser, hung with new stresses.

senmut wondered silently where she had gone alone.

ironically, he had come to her with the talk of marriage on his lips, until he recalled that only pharaoh could give a priest leave to marry.

the memory of their kiss had never left him, had marred him, had shaped him.

"where did you go?" senmut found himself asking, and thought makono might know of what he spoke.

he asked and for once she held her heart close.

i could ask the same thing, you know.

her gaze softly simmered upon him. a flare of confidence and the scent of the feminine were not lost upon her. the training of a soldier had only made her all the more aware of those finer details!

she waited, with bated breath, daring him to speak.

senmut felt his face redden beneath the short cream and crimson fur of his face. but this time he did not sway.

he had become — more.

"i worship with the new priestess of Hathor. we spend long days together now, beneath the teachings of akhtar."

averted! or perhaps not!

a million little reactions flited in her mind.

she wondered at once if all she did for those she kept close was for nothing, if she ought to burn every one of them and rebuild at once. for she could have any she asked after!

it was a flare of the dramatics befitting a teenage royal.

and what has akhtar taught you now, senmut?

her brow hitched eye and the embers of her jewel gaze lit further.

senmut did not understand what the prince meant. or rather, he did, he simply did not want to accept that she had become so brazen!

he lowered his head to the floor before the divine heir.

"he has taught me more hymns and more prayers. i am now able to access the magick teachings of Osiris, great one."

senmut did not rise.

have you come to only speak of teachings?

her gaze left him now, trailed to the stone walls. she did not bid him to rise and she did, fully, expect him to stay lowered to the ground.

a protected, paranoid ego had been wounded.

she wished for him to fix it.

the crown prince was cold toward him. he was not told to raise his head.

it was clear she desired more and senmut sought it, grappling.

Amun prevailed upon the priest and steadied his tongue. 

"i bring a warning against your father," senmut said, an act of treason alone.

blindsided!

what?

her tongue pressed sharply against the back of her teeth as her gaze returned back to him at once. a jut of her chin the only instruction for him to now rise.

senmut was dizzied and wearied. he sat upright but dared not look even toward her sacred shadow.

"your grandfather seti suffered a great madness before death. now its shadow visits his son." surely she had heard the cursing in the hallways, the way that great pharaoh had become erratic. the way he kept the prince charles close to him once more.

senmut sought confidence. "seti struck at his son. and it was his son who replaced him."

she glowered, simmered, burned.

it felt as if her brain suffered a great million deaths at once. that all at once she must pull on a pale, serious face. a mask to close her heart from the world around her.

she stood.

tall, sharp, molded by the roman in her stance.

in a single moment she thrashed with a sharpness unbecoming a composed royal. a nearby fur tattered and sent sliding across the dusty floor. she was thankful it was not trinkets or plating. less they shatter and skitter, bring forward nosy attendants.

no.

only senmut would be witness to this small outburst.

a harder stance taken now. another thing gathered up from her time in mereo. a few small steps to bring her face to senmut's own. so that she might bare her breath upon the fine hairs that covered surely pale skin.

tell me it is a lie, hem.

but her whispered and strained voice betrayed her, for she knew he would not say such to her mindlessly.

for a moment it seemed his warning burnt in makono too.

but no; he saw her anger was righteous.

senmut sat miserably, shoulders hunched and ears splayed; he shut his eyes when she became a soldier and ordered him to say otherwise.

"it is so, great one."

a breath.

"seti was in his sixth year when it came to him. your father —" is far younger "— may well live just as long." the priest at last looked as far toward the heir as he dared. "i caution and implore you not to move rashly. simply be ready, divine one, be ready to take power when it is given."

sixth year.

her father was what? into his third, his fourth? she had not even yet fully reached her own first! yet the look and burden upon her shoulders felt as if she had lived all combined lifetimes. sixth, fourth, first.

akashingo cannot have madness or shadows haunting us, hem. for surely he knew, he understood. should the palace fall into a dark, dark time it would mar them. weaken them.

crush them.

am i to simply wait until...

her father struck her first? a tactician's mind overcame her as she slumped over a bed of furs. fuming and frustrated in her thoughts.

what? his sixth year? until the madness burns all around us?

senmut shook his head. "to move now, when he has the love of fellahin and the loyalty of allies would plunge akashingo into danger of abandoment."

for the others must not know. senmut crept close but did not look upon her stunned, stricken visage again. 

"merit his confidence. keep it. placate him until such a time as he —" dies. succumbs. is killed.

"or instruct those closest to you on what must be done and bide your time." senmut did not know the nature of her work with mereo, only that surely it must be of some use one day.

"you know the power in divine blood, heir to the Horus Throne."

of abandonment?

she dared to think that she would hold it all together. perhaps she'd lose siblings. but she imagined many would still stay. if only to see the freedom of a time beyond the pharaoh they knew now.

a bitter thought.

nazli, senmut. could khaba be trusted not to flip? a nasty thought. she had yet to test bayek in full, but the man held promise. she flipped upon thoughts of the long-time sesh tavina. perhaps the new priestess? which would in turn give her the sesh, no?

she knew mereo thought of themselves as more of an outpost.

perhaps...perhaps if she bid them freedom, they would bid akashingo the same.

would germanicus risk it? maybe the angered officer with his ire upon the palace would cherish the chance.

two must be tested in full before i call them my closest, hem. she stretched out, a soft flare of hackles along her spine. if i give you the task of testing them? any can bend the knee to a royal. not all will listen to those of your like.

she did not mean it in an ill way.

so already she gathered her loyal.

senmut saw now that she had put such into motion even if she had only just comprehended.

"how would you have me test them, great one?" the young priest asked silently, as if he did not this very second turn his back upon her father! upon all known ways of akashingo!

"if you choose this path, divine one, you must make your choices now." his voice was slow, the tones of a floating advisor. "what will be done with the other children of pharaoh. what will be done with his queen." a man might stamp out all his father's lineage to begin his own.

but she was not a man. she was crown prince of akashingo.

oops all dialogue

words must be given to them. ones that should come back to my ears if they are true, but not so harsh as to warrant punishment if caught by pharaoh.

a tricky thing, but she trusted senmut to carry this task out.

the jodai. the medjay.

soldiers. hardy bodies. most of her faith already laid with the jodai, but as long as pharaoh stood she knew he might come first.

as for the collection of royal family?

they will all hate me. i wish to give the world to toula, but perhaps not here. for she was no son of pharaoh and her heart seemed entirely content to remain on its pious path. ashikaga...i do not know. her brows knitted together harshly. if sethnakht cannot bend the knee then...he has signed his own fate, no?

a reminder that if siptah returned while things unfolded she might too have to drive a dagger through his heart. far more literal this time.

the queen? who is to say she did not kill my own mother to get that seat? or that she is so fickle she might flee the moment the royals no longer stem from her.

blood already stained her hands even if she could not see it yet.

she hated how she longed for the roman in these grim moments.

right back for u senmut loves 2 chat

how he hated this! how he knew it must be done, for the sake of akashingo. 

and how many times had the forbears of makono sat like this in similar halls in similar whisperings, viziers and priests and nobles and heirs, all quietly aligning their futures behind a new vision before the old one could end.

the young priest considered what he might ask these men.

"your father has brought wealth and prosperity to akashingo. you must prove yourself to do the same. bring victory. bring tribute. gain the confidence of his vizier."

senmut inhaled. "pharaoh puts out his hand to seek a marriage for toula. offer to take this task from him. in this way you will think of your sister first and ambition second. but to the prince you must show mercy and understanding. to establish yourself as head of a lineage you must maintain the divinity of the bloodline."

did he speak as priest? as vizier? as traitor? senmut did not know. nor did he understand the wisdom which flowed through him now. "ashikaga must be kept as queen's-heir, should —" the current queen find a harsh and early end.

"your father may sire new princes this year, great one. think upon this also."

anger boiled and rolled like tsunami waves. it churned in silent starts only to crash against her mind with the might of a thousand soldiers.

she had already done so much!

she had half a mind to plunge the sword now and be rid of all of these problems at once. it would be hasty, nasty, such things could not happen right away.

even if she wished it, in this moment of bitter venom.

maintain divinity, maintain, maintain, maintain...

her brain buzzed with it. as if she did not carry enough divinity to bless any that so much as had the blessing to touch her! and it was then she looked upon senmut, with a gaze of smoldering, ravenous love. could she? could he?

no — or perhaps he might have said as much.

or perhaps he did not wish it to be.

be my vizier, senmut. in the coming weeks, months, years. her gaze was hot upon him, but it was not with the brunt of her anger.

without you i would burn the whole palace down in the dead of night.

and the hardness of her voice suggested she was not far removed from the idea at all.

such an honor and a curse she pressed upon him now!

senmut bowed his head. "i will be this to you, divine one." and his voice rang with truth. 

when he raised his eyes, they were wet with worshipful tears. senmut knew that he would serve her until the end of days, no matter how much this pledge might shorten his own.

rise,

her vocal chords became strumming guitar strings, vibrating words in the back of her throat.

she stepped, to place her forehead to his. to close her own wetting eyes. her voice a thrumming whisper.

i have much love in my heart for you, hem.

but she must set him free in these dark hours. to let him work in his own ways.

<3

"and i for you," he said, voice catching.

oh, he loved her! by hathor! and it was nothing that akashingo's pharaoh might see as love. it was a purest devotion, for makono wavered ever closer to the vision of the god she one day would fully embody.

he kissed the floor once more, turned, and was gone, the straight-laced scribe filled with visions of what akashingo might be when that day came.