Lion Head Mesa yoakenoyume

The woman dreamed, but the guard did not stir from his post.

Even when the dreams took over her, soft noises slipping from her muzzle into the bedchamber, Arsenio only stood with a rigid expression and stiff frame. Beneath the stony exterior, the misthofóros wondered what the Pharaoh would think if he could hear the sweet breaths fall from his queen’s lips as she rested, if he dared to think of what her dreams might betray to the man who watched outside her bed space.

When the queen woke, Arsenio still did not stir. A gentle smile curved the edges of his lips, however, and he hummed a quiet tune into the echoing chambers.