Lion Head Mesa ascendant

pharaoh was sickened and furious. his belly felt in a bile. he left the day's work to his queen and went to his throne room, bellowing that no one should come to him, save for the priests @Akhtar and his pupil. he ordered sharply as well that prince @Siptah and princess @Makono be bid to come at once.
change, change, and more of it. ramesses grew into a fine pale stormcloud of pure ire as he waited stiffly upon his throne for his children and the holy men to arrive.

she had the advantage of knowing what this meant.

if a room existed with only the pharaoh, the priests, and her brother...well there was no punchline. only the sickening knowledge that the time had come.

she would pull herself together. regal and dignified before them all.

Siptah responded to the summons at once, curious, but that died as he came into the throne room and saw, and felt, his father's rage. He knew not of the happenings within Akashingo — the royal wedding had gone well, so why was he so angry? Knowing he was going to find out, Siptah stood in silence. He regarded his sister for a moment before turning his eyes back on Pharaoh.

The priest was less outwardly angered, but you could see it in his steps, the low, sharp striding.

The more he had thought of it, the more the rage burned low and icy. He had been drunk when he gave Senmut his approval, and he had told the boy to give the royals what they demanded. He did not blame him.

But the girl. Now that he was clear headed and sobered, this was an outrage to him. A sacrifice, uncleared to himself, and used as a power grab.

The gods were not tools.

Akhtar slipped into the throne room with a quiet, murmured acknowledgement to his Pharaoh, coming to stand near him. His face was a mask, but his eyes had turned to a sharp burn of brown, less fire, more ice.

senmut had been with nazli before the dawn, and he had not seen the princess and her father leave the palace. suppose he had! then he could have stopped her. 

the young we'eb followed the high priest in a timid silence. pharaoh was angrier than he had ever seen the man, and akhtar stood rooted in the same royal fire.

senmut slunk to the left hand of his master and sat straightbacked, ready to record as scribe.

he looked toward no one in the room, but his heart raced with the rightness of it all.

pharaoh watched as they gathered, each of them. and still he was silent. still he was implacable. 
until at last he shifted forward in his throne and looked to the high priest, then to siptah. "your sister makono wishes to be crown prince in akashingo. she desires to follow me upon the throne."
to akhtar, now: "your student conspired with the amiirad. he knew the ways of the sacrifice to the Apis Bull. and he scorned them in loyalty to princess makono."
ramesses' voice was heavy, but he had no judgement.
"the gods have moved with with the princess. they speak to her. they sanctioned that she should stand in the sacrifice's blood. she has sought to change Ma'at, and Ma'at, for her, has changed."
and that could not be denied.
pharaoh stared at his daughter. "makono understands the law of succession. she understands divinity. she understands where her place should be. and yet her spirit calls with the voice of a man for my crown, and Amun has blessed her."
he lifted his chin. "siptah. if you recognize makono's claim, and will observe it, then you will be her Divine Consort when she takes the crown." 
now his attention was weighted upon his strong son. "but if you do not, then makono must be be declared as contender."
ramesses looked at the high priest once more. "hem akhtar. please tell to the royal children how a dynasty ends when the gods are displeased."
he wanted to hear from no one save for the holy man first.

there was not a need for her voice.

pharaoh said everything. all of it had been laid clear. some part of her worried for the we'eb, but that felt so far out of her reach in this room! and, oh, her heart reached for her brother.

to make him see whatever everyone else seemed to.

to understand she did not move with malice. to know there was still room for him here, with her. that it did not need to end much like the sacrifice had.

for him to understand that she still loved him.

there were far uglier ways for these things to rise between them.

but for now she could only stand. blinked, far away through eyes once more not her own. she wondered if her brother would break her heart, and had she broken his? how badly?

the hem would speak.

she would listen.

Gladly

Akhtar’s voice was made to ring over crowds and skies, to call forth the attention of gods.

Now, his voice rumbled like an approaching thunderhead as he stepped forward, half his face falling into shadow.

Children. Both reminder and rebuke. There are a thousand tales of kingdoms, kings and queens. Those that fight for them. There are many you do not know, for one reason or another. But there are many who will never be known.

The gods watch our every action. Displeasure brings disdain, and disdain brings ruination. Not to just you, but all. Your people, your families, your kingdoms. Locusts, plagues, disease and famine. The gods will wage war, and you will always be on the losing side. His brown eyes looked like flints of hard stone, unbroken and as sharp as the tip of a spear. His voice rose in searing heat, the drumbeats in his ears growing louder.

You will die. And your kingdom with you. His eyes trailed to the Amiirad.

You called for the attention of the gods, Princess Makono, and you have received their eye. Ensure they like what they see. His grim intonation rung like a funeral bell, his eyes becoming distant and clouded, and his breath inhaled cold, as though the reaper stood over his head with scythe poised.

the young prince said nothing.

princess makono too was quiet.

akhtar rained fire upon them with his words. senmut closed his eyes but when he opened his gaze once more it was to search for the expression of the amiirad.

ramesses knew the words, the prophesies, the lore, the law. he watched makono first, and then siptah, as akhtar poured out wormwood over their ears.
both of them regal and gilded; each of them divine. he wished siptah would capitulate. he wished makono would see reason.
worry and anger vied in his heart.
"speak!" he suddenly shouted, his voice reverberating around the throne room.

the hem told tales, lore, warnings.

none of them cowed her. nothing could, in these moments she became resolute. for her talks with the we'eb had not warned her of anger. that her strivings were not immoral.

she played by every other rule.

she only broke here, to rise where she must, where she was called.

her father's voice, the loud scorching marks of a dragon's fire against her heart. but how could she fault him? how could she fault anyone who may look or speak upon her with a harshness?

to break thousands of years of tradition was not small, it would inspire fear in those who did not understand — but those who did, saw her greatness already.

my claim is true, and i stand upon it. the gods have placed their eyes upon me, Ma'at has changed for me. she stood, tall now. chin tipped up with royalty.

i am contender, if my claim is not seen by first crown prince.

could she hear a heart break? she was bound to find out.