Lion Head Mesa stele

He complimented her—a blush would rise beneath her fur, though it was the way her head tilted in a manner of self awareness. There was no beauty to be found here—but it was kind of him to imply such. Reyson, though—she believed he found her pretty.

So when the regal man replied with masked vagueness, she could feel her heart sink within her chest. It was one of two possibilities: either Reyson had partaken in such intimate actions with the beautiful inhabitants of this man’s empire and the Pharaoh merely tried to guard her heartbreak by remaining so vague… or he was simply implying guilt where none were.

But what guilt would it truly be? She claimed Reyson to this man, but in truth, they tentatively courted. If he were to bed another on one of his trips, was it a true betrayal to her? When she was the one who had insisted they move slowly as they navigated whatever budding relationship they had?

So in thought she barely felt the brush of ivory fur to her own silver—his comment of a Mereoan soldier a solid statement she knew to be true. Her fuzzy mind tried to circle back to Germanicus—to how she had felt in those few moments with the Imperator. His duty had been obvious to her just in that short time—and while Reyson claimed he would drop duty for family if she requested it… could she truly make him do so? What if he became miserable?

“I think… They must place what they do to the forefront of everything, and to survive what they bear… They must place all else in the shadows.”