Lion Head Mesa Tiger lily

She returns her brother's smile with a beaming grin that lights up her whole face.

“Maybe daddy always will be,” Neith supposes. So little of her girlhood had been spent concerning future titles. It was morbid to think about gazing upon Akashingo’s thrones one day and not seeing mother and father sitting there. But she’d been contemplating it now since their naming ceremony, newly awakened to the inveterate purpose of she and her siblings.

A cheek turns quickly away from her brother’s cheeky play, reproving his plashes with chuffs that strive to be quiet. She flexes a small paw and cups a feather as it passes over her rippling reflection.

“Daddy doesn’t look at me the way he looks at you and Den,” the amiirad expresses in her own secret whisper. Neith had never acknowledged it before– truthfully, because she sometimes felt more like a decorative emblem to her brothers’ divinity. The girl had learned in her readings this was the supportive role a Queen was to embody, but it was not the incarnate power of her own mother.