Lion Head Mesa she is good, but she lies

backdated to 5/20

Tavina's poison had not worked.

The babies lived, and Maegi felt as if she were slowly dying. Her belly grew rounder; her mood sank lower. And it was past the point that she could hide it from the Pharaoh.

Perhaps he'd heard rumors already.

Nevertheless, she darkened the door of his chambers this afternoon, taking a breath to steady herself. The seizures had been more frequent since the near-abortion and she did not want to risk falling into another one before her leader.

But could she help it? It's Sheogorath, she reasoned. Nothing I can do.

About anything, really. Maegi sits at Pharaoh's threshold, helpless and miserable. Maybe he'd send her away. Maybe she'd die, and the pestilence within her womb alongside her.

And Mou, still lost. . .

he had foregone berries and the pleasure of the fellahin.
the days remained cool and often dewy in the mornings. ramesses found himself rising with the sun, opening his eyes as akhtar began the morning's prayers.
they would remain in mourning for some time.
with clearer mind, pharaoh found himself introspective. at times he spoke to himself.
when maegi came to him, his newly sharpened eyes saw her curved sides and understood.
the soldiers were in the palace.
"you have gotten yourself into trouble," pharaoh observed. he leant forward upon his throne and motioned her closer.

You don't know the half of it, Maegi replied, with a watery attempt at a smirk. She sighed, then, coming closer at his gesture and settling upon her haunches. She was on edge, her spine ramrod straight, despite her fairly close relationship with the Pharaoh.

She gave him an inquisitive look. Am I still welcome here? she asked without further preamble. Despite. . . Maegi trailed off, motioning to her belly.

Being a noble had given her privileges; this she knew. But she did not know if Ramesses was protective enough of his own offspring to boot other children from the ranks. She didn't mind the forced exodus of whatever demon spawn grew within her, but she did hope that he took pity on her, specifically.

She drew a deep breath, waiting for his response.

pharaoh gazed at her. maegi was so otherwordly, eldritch. sometimes it scarcely seemed real that she should speak to him at all. and yet she did. he was not sure why she seemed so much sharper now, and his eyes slid thoughtfully to her belly.
"everything has a price. everything can be bartered." he had no suspicions of who had fathered her children, nor was he ready to ask. "the children of a noblewoman, provided she chose someone of her own rank, would be reared and educated alongside mine. i would retain the final decision on future roles or marriages, but it would not be a hard life to have them here."
more children in akashingo meant more adults one day. on its face he could see no reason why not. he would never be the one tending her brood.
the lazuli eyes sparkled with curiosity. who had she chosen? and when had this even happened?

Of her own rank. So a noble, then, she replied, lifting her brow. If I'm not mistaken, that leaves me little Gucci and that ragged young man, Charles. Or Lilitu, the girl, if she so chose. . .

Regardless, none of those options suited her much.

And if I don't choose? Maegi continued. I have a husband, Pharaoh. Whether he's alive or dead, I don't intend on replacing him.

And did it really matter if these pests never had a named father? They could become fellahin, for all she cared. Sheogorath's earthly seed could rot.

Her chin was high, but her eyes respectful, fixed on Ramesses' white-gold sternum.

a long silence followed. ramesses remained implacable. "and was your husband here to impregnate you, maegi? were you blessed by the gods? or did you only follow nature to where you find yourself now?" he shifted slowly, an ivory gold-gilt serpent uncoiling gently upon his throne. 
"your children will be bastards otherwise. will the world take favorably to more of them, do you think?" he himself would not. maegi had come to him with her predicament. this was his assistance.
"prince charles is promised to princess lilitu. gucci alone would hold the nobility that this marriage needs to command. it is too late to search for another man."
his voice was even. would she find him cruel or pragmatic?
"who sired them?"

He was.

In her addled mind, he had been. She opened her mouth to say just that and could have voiced it, had Ramesses not carried on. He was Mou in that moment, whomever the corporeal form had been.

There would be no arguing with the Pharaoh, though, and Maegi was too tired to try.

Bastards they would be, name or no name.

Their sire is Sheogorath, she replied, deadened eyes shifting to light upon his face. But I will marry Gucci. For all you've done for me. . .I will do as you ask.

Her head began to pound, and her vision blurred, but Maegi dug her toes into the earth, gritted her teeth, desperate to hold onto consciousness for a few minutes longer.

ramesses enjoyed capitulation. it was not that he meant maegi ill-will or disrespect; he enjoyed her and held no judgement that she had found pleasure after much pain.
but the talk of this husband rankled him. the poisoner belonged to akashingo now, and by proxy to him. every step she took now was to be in service of the palace. it was how this extension of luxury worked.
and who was sheogorath?
she seemed sickened. ramesses did not understand that. was it the fact that gucci was not a wolf? certainly maegi knew that there were many heads under this roof. "go and rest," pharaoh murmured in a voice that was almost affectionate. "i shall send tavina to you."

Tell her to bring poppies, she replied, and found herself unable to speak further. She gave a gracious nod to Ramesses for his mercy and turned, stomach churning as she left his chambers.

Gucci. Husband.

It wasn't as if she disliked the little dog—quite the opposite. But she saw him more as a child, or at the very least an underling, despite their shared nobility. To be married to him. . .

But it could be worse.

It was worse.

Everything was worse.

Maegi collapsed upon reaching her own room and dry heaved, unable to bring anything up.

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