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ugliness.

it shaped his jaw.

it shaped his eyes.

the red sand burnt his calloused paws and the long weeks of travel had reduced the palace man to sinew.

sinew and wormwood.

this was where hatshepsuun meant for him to be and so khusobek, ever-faithful dog, called out for audience.

The ink black heart of Akhtar grew darker with oil slick by the day. He had gone, he had seen, observed, but it seemed as though he had been set free for a time.

The priest did not like this. He had not lost his mind in those desert dunes for this.

In aggravation did his bowl strike the floor, swept off its pedestal by a carelessly flung forelimb. He stood, staring at it for a moment, before he released an inarticulate sound of rage and stormed out of his rooms. He needed air, yes! Fresh, beautiful air!

As soon as he exited the caverns, the call reached his ears, and who was he to ignore it? 

He came on light feet, heavy lidded eyes catching sight of the sinew man and his ice eyes even from this distance.

He wanted to smile, coy, like a cat, but he kept his smile nice. Akhtar waved his tail in the air as he came closer, placid, like a dairy cow.

Many greetings~! What brings you to the borders of Akashingo?

bouncing step.

unhardened. unhurried.

this must be a priest, one of the few who could afford to move with lacking in alacrity.

"i am khusobek, of hatshepsuun's court. she is the Royal Aunt to your queen." his voice was a grunted pustule of rust. "i am sent as ushabti, to be used where she sees fit."

unused. unflattering.

and the bitterness swam in motes around the guard.

From the man came information.

He was a gift, it seemed, from Toula’s aunt. Akhtar didn’t even know she had an aunt! He’s never actually thought to ask (nor had he particularly cared)! He blinked, slow and casual, using the lazy outward appearance to study the man’s outward appearance. He was a fine specimen, and were he king, perhaps he would have thought twice about letting this one go.

He wasn’t though. That thought tasted like sour grapes. He idly noted that he should go get some actual fruits, maybe it would bring him to peace.

Well, well met. I am Akhtar, priest of Toth. A bit more keen eyed now, the dog leaned from toe to toe, before falling back on his pawpads with a muted thump and a small rise of dust.

You appear to have travelled quite some way, mm? Come, come, I will take you to the throne room. His sweeping feather of a tail danced over his haunches as he turned a bit to the side, waiting a few moments, before he would lead the way.

priest of toth. khusobek watched the switching hips of the other man and frowned.

nothing more was said.

he was here for whatever ineffectual and weak-boned royal that this palace had put upon their throne. why hatshepsuun did not simply wish to snuff out this line was beyond his understanding.

perhaps it was better to be this way. he was silent upon their journey, noting all and saying nothing.

He would lead the man of distant deserts into the red stones and land, his ever bobbing tail a beacon to be followed. Akhtar thrives in this, he thought privately, proudly, of himself. The sand, the heat, why had he ever left.

You will go

I will go

Ah right, that.

He would come to a halt just outside the throne room, hailing down and speaking to a fellahin passing them by for them to announce them to both Senmut and @Toula , before he would settle against a stone wall, one shoulder leant against it.

His eyes, now dark in the shadow that swept over the rock he leant against, still watched the man, even in the unsettling blackness that brown had become.

they two were announced, and they would find Toula laying in repose upon her throne. how many times had she sat beside it, near her mother or father? she felt lucky to have always been so interested—but only wished that they could see her now. would they be happy with her? proud?
fellahin fanned her with frond leafs, brought to them by a trader. she looked fondly upon the priest before her gaze turned to the newcomer. and now Toula Herself was announced to them. it was then she languidly pushed herself into a prim, neat seat.
from her royal aunt, they said! a gift, truly. what are your talents, ushabti? she asked, voice warm. she moved no more as of yet.

a throne room made for a woman.

but it was a girl who sat in it now, lazily shaded by fronds. the reek of royalty was all around her.

the priest announced him, gave his titles, his relation to the family across the sea. "i was overseer of pharaoh's guard there, though i am also able to efficiently direct fellahin as well."

as khusobek spoke, he was thinking of hatshepsuun, of her regal mouth and striking eyes, how he had been snared by her serpent's body and given all, only to be cast off once wrung out.

"use me as you will, divine one."

he said no more.

Akhtar greeted Toula with a lazy curl of a smile and a low dip of his body, before he would range to the side all over again, settling out of the way to watch. As if this was a pit fight and he a many ringed noble seeking to sate his bloodlust in the actions of another man.

But it would not be that.

It would be fun though, would it not?

Oh absolutely, that.

But Akhtar would wish no harm upon Akashingo’s young queen, so he settled in the red dust, reaching up to adjust himself and cursed beneath his breath. Damn him, he’d forgotten his skin in his rooms! A decided pout settled on his features, but he quickly smoothed it out.

Toula, with a look to a fellahin, saw to the comfort of the Hem. he was brought clean furs to relax upon—all while she considered the man before her. 
his experience was a boon. perhaps he might become the same here; her gemstone gaze roved innocently over him, in a way to take his measure. have you the same ambitions here? to be overseer, she wondered. 
all had their use here—but Toula would see to it that they were happy with their tasks, too. or did you prefer the directing of the fellahin? her unwavering voice pressed gently; he had a choice in this, and she would have him see it.

yes, in this girl-child he saw the stamp of seti.

but where khusobek had expected yet another bratling, he found only a gentle face with no airs more than those she had been god-granted. yet he did not trust her, and would not. what did the seed of royals need with him?

"i would prefer the choice be left to one more noble than i, great one," khusobek chose a moment later, standing still and straight beneath the velveteen prod of her young voice.

Akhtar felt solidly in the background, and he did not know how he enjoyed it. But, one of the fellahin was quick to provide him furs, and he flashed a smile their way as he settled on them, sprawled like a rich lady across a chaise.

If he had hands, perhaps he’d have used his to swirl a glass of red wine ominously. But, he didn’t have those, so he merely watched, amusement dancing in his eyes, at the back and forth between the two.

how curious! though she supposed that it was not—he was from a court different than her own. a man molded to please. and no doubt her royal aunt wished to ensure that she was happy! 
it is my want to see your stay one in wish you feel most fulfilled. if your preference is for me to choose, then I shall—but if you are unsatisfied, I ask you to tell me, came her light voice. assimilate amongst the mazoi. establish yourself amongst them—and speak with our Erpa-ha. you may be called to arms soon, she informed, not wishing for him to be caught off guard. she was taking him, as it seemed, at his word.
and if he wished to be the overseer of their own, she had things to think of too! but first—eat, and rest if you are weary, Toula watches him with a sharp gaze, seeking any sign of dissatisfaction upon his features.
she had not dismissed the Hem for a reason. her attention was upon him as much as it was the Mazoi-to-be.

khusobek looked at the girl queen, at her delicacy.

how easy it might be to snap her bones and kill her attendants.

but that was not why he had been sent. and what was more, a fierce pharaoh and two blood-brothers roamed outside akashingo. killing this toula would result in nothing but his own death.

"i obey," he grunted. the mazoi. the guardians. he preferred it there after all.

Akhtar watched the proceedings, flicking his eyes between the two as each spoke. The man subservient, the girl kind. And he, witnessing it all.

Andesha, keen eyed nightingale, was not here to whisper into his ear what she observed either. He had sent her to find Ahu. In that moment, he missed the bird almost as much as he missed Ahu, or perhaps the treachery they plotted together. He could not say for certain.

His brown gaze found Toula’s blues, watching the man, who he looked to as well, before he began examining his paws and the feathering on his legs, only his ears showing he was still intent on the conversation.

Toula did not have the same eye as he, but had enough sense to understand, as the Mazoi looked at her, her mortality. divine though she was, it was a mortals flesh that the royal inhabited. but be that as it was, she was unafraid of death. not in that reckless, devil may care sort of way—but in a way that, as she looked upon him, would plainly reveal that her end was a thing to be embraced. it would not be the permanent end, and perhaps she like her father might ascend. 
her gaze was still soft, not moving from him. unflinching in the face of what she saw, she saw it all unfold. yes, yes, she would die—I know, those soft eyes of hers seemed to say—as all things did. 
but it would not be today. go, then, she bid, gesturing to the halls where a fellahin awaited to lead the way. now her gaze turned Akhtar; she gestured nearer to her, where yet another set of furs were set down for him. but she would not speak until the sounds of the newest Mazoi’s departure faded to nothing.

the the priest did not speak.

nor did the queen.

the mazoi was dismissed. he bowed as low as he might deign for hatshepsuun, then turned and left the cloying presence of holy man and young royal.

Akhtar watched the man leave, his eyes flicking over his steel form with a glitter of appreciation. He was a simple man, he could appreciate a well built soldier.

His eyes lifted from the man to the girl across the way, offering her a smile.

He seems like a tough nut to crack. Came his idle half joke of a comment, smile indulgent.