Two Eyes Cenote calling the scarlet sands

everything had been leading to this. all roads ended here.
in the days before, zaahira had oft spent her afternoons overseeing, organizing, planning. while it had not been necessary, she humbly assisted the fellahin where she could; she gave her creative insight with the design of toula's outfit, she helped set up decor and hunted for meat and berries and garnishings. when she was not doing such, she kept her post where she always was: at pharaoh's shoulder, like a little bird perched upon a branch.
they had, perhaps, conversed about the visions of satsu and ramesses. either way, the fury of the shabti's spirit seemed to have been felt by akashingo's people; it had not gone unnoticed. the air had been — tense. the gods have chosen you for a reason, zaahira recalled telling her; you were born to become pharaoh.
zaahira firmly believed this.

and now the day had come.

that morning, the first thing zaahira had done was vomit up the contents of last night's dinner — meat, and far, far too much liquor. her head reeled. she ate breakfast with jittering paws, paced the halls frantically; and inji had spared a moment to help her get dressed.
a jet-black skin that once belonged to a rat snake, tossed 'round her neck as if it were a scarf, and dabbed upon her eyes was paint made from crushed cornflower. a soldier's armor.
bodies filter into the flowering room; faces are registered, names are exchanged, and formal bows are given to those of foreign lands. the nervousness is thick within her voice, even as she tries to soothe it with all the power in her bones.
she settles among her peers as the voice of senmut flourishes within the halls. her eyes settle upon toula, at first, and oh, how incredible she looks! not girl, but woman; not woman, but god.
and then there is rashepses.
he, too, is crowned; semer-wati, king consort. and where zaahira should have felt glee, instead a bitterness simmers lowly beneath her surface. she had always told herself she would throw a metaphorical shoe at the altar if they were to wed.
but instead, she finds the eyes of pharaoh, the glimmer of unadulterated, girlish joy crystallized in the seaglass, and from the masses she casts a feeble smile.
if he makes you happy.
to you alone, no matter what, i am eternally devoted.