Lion Head Mesa bird of paradise

she slept well into the late morning.

she thought she had heard @Nazli at some point but figured it nothing more than a dream.

and her dreams had been wild. a constant roar. a replay of her gifted sacrifice, of crimson and ivory in an intertwined way. she was not sure she was grateful to leave the dreams.

the waking world was bright.

her head throbbed.

she did not know if senmut was somewhere here, stowed upon furs that had been offered. perhaps he had already slipped away before any prying eyes questioned.

the palace beyond her door seemed empty, hushed in the wake of last night. she wondered if anyone had carried any words of displeasure with her show to pharaoh.

it did not matter.

her court had peace.

she could not help but keep an eye out for either her treasured fellahin or even the pharaoh @Ramesses himself, as she slunk along the halls. returning to the sight of her sacrifice.

by all rights he should be angry with her, his little golden statue. but he was not; he was ever-moved and aware that the favour of Amun loomed over her shoulder.
pharaoh moved with decisive steps. makono was no longer abed, and he saw a fluid grace in her that had not been there before the sacrifice. an assuredness. 
he was not sure how to feel about it.
"princess," he greeted, as they met in the halls. his lapis eyes were knowing. he fell into step alongside her, silent.

the hall may as well have cracked beneath their paws. a canyon between them still.

yet neither one acknowledged it. he moved alongside her, as if things had gone back to a simple time. she missed it. deeply and dearly.

pharaoh, she addressed him in the same way she had been greeted. she felt she knew better now than to give more than she was given in return. perhaps it was selfish, a sour ego. yet she felt well assured of this manner of things now.

the ceremony was beautiful.

words of a diplomat, rather than a daughter.

pharaoh did not answer.
in the light of day the scene was more graphic, more powerful. the blood had blackened beneath even the morning sun, and ravens rose in murders from their royal tread.
ramesses ordered away any attendants near. he stood gazing hard upon the sacrifice, at its greatness, its stillness.
the silence went on and on, until his voice sounded again, though he did not look toward her.
"did your pet we'eb tell you that only the crown prince kills for the Apis Bull?"
his voice would be unreadable.
another stretch of quiet. "suppose i took from your brother's head the uraeus of power and gave it to you. suppose i humiliated him before akashingo because you have earned the title and he has not. you love him and he does not deserve that slight." no inflection. "how would it bode well for your rule then?"
but it was not a question to which ramesses sought an answer; yet he was wordless now, for he know makono would speak profoundly.

-vibrates the whole time writing this-

he went on.

and she found with a great suddenness that his words did not smack her nearly as hard as they once did. no, she had been weaved in the comfort of her treasure, of the we'eb. of even the beastly mazoi!

did her father know those things? did he understand that her heart could not break twice for him?

she would not allow it.

and suppose the people see he has not earned the title, but that they turn their eyes to see i have. tell me then how it bodes for his own rule?

but she was not done! speaking with a coldness, but not the bitterness of the dried blood before them.

there were two before you. it was an ugly thing to say before him, before the sacrifice she had given in grandness. tell me, now, is one before me so taboo then?

!!!

makono challenged him, and not only this, but moreover in the voice of reason and politics and positioning he had taught to her. there was no evidence of it; his face had gone smooth and marbled as his beloved child spoke.
so senmut had brought word of the old family. of course he had, and after a brief rise of anger, ramesses knew he could not hold the hem accountable. the little peasant had only done as he was bid, which was serve faithfully and loyally.
"you are correct. there were two before me." and perhaps the unrippled surface of his rich voice would prove in itself a warning before what came.
"the first was amenhotep. it is said my mother had him poisoned in infancy to displace his own as my father's favourite concubine." now he bestowed upon her the history ill-gotten, in all its ugliness.
"the second was akhenaten. he broke beneath the pressures and threats of the harem; he railed against the gods and renounced them, save for one. save for Ra. and for his hubris Ra burned his eyes from his head. my brother was found dead in the desert. by the time he could be carried back to the palace, the sand in the khamsins had scoured his face to nothing."
and still ramesses did not look at her.
the blood oozed and dried.
"when i was born my father was old. i was his heir. i was the last son, not the first choice. my ambitions took me to kadesh and after my victory he declared me regent. and then to ensure that every heir i produced was divine, and to ensure that my many sisters and i were not divided after his death, he married me to one of them."
voice, leaping with bitterness beneath the long chains of resolution.
now did pharaoh turn his gaze, heavy and ironwrought, to his child. "if you mean to be pharaoh, you will make siptah your Divine Consort. you will not deviate from the path laid. you will compromise here, nekubi makono, and not divide akashingo with infighting."
his voice was cold. "that is the taboo. not so there. but it is so in this wilderness. it is the final way forward. if you mean to shift Ma'at, you will understand what cannot be changed."

she had hit something.

not the gold they were weaved of, but oil. slick and rich in and of itself. coating her and flattening every ripple in herself.

the first was poisoned by his own mother. the next raged against gods, save for Ra. only to be turned upon by the very same. burned by the sands, as if Ra had not done enough.

for these tales she looked upon the horse. sitting and oozing. bubbling. flies collected along it where the ravens had left. symbolic as it soured.

she could not imagine siptah as a Divine Consort.

but she had not imagined any other either, had she?

does he know? or has he closed his eyes so as to not see it all? can he be trusted to be Divine Consort or will all of this already divide?

and for the first time since their falling out, she sought his advice here. in truth, in strength.

she looked to her father now.

makono did not resist.
something loosened inside ramesses, some sinking of relief. "no. he does not. you must come to the same agreement before anything is announced. unless you cannot. then i must declare you in opposition to one another."
and she would not like to hear that, but ramesses was grave, feeling rather drawn as he felt himself draw a heavy curtain across — "makono." voice a roll of thunder in the desert. "you break with a thousand years of tradition if you do this."
the gravity of change could be a falling stone.
"i am not helpless in this. i will stand upon the side of Ma'at. i will consult the priests and the queen." ramesses was servant only to the gods, and if it was willed, he would change the edict.
but makono must step forward now. she must assert herself as champion of her own wants.
"if you can come to your choice, i will declare it. if you cannot, i will set you as Crown Intended the first of the new year." sokha had spun the hour for a feast.
he hoped it would not be a war.

if her brother could not see what everyone else did, they were forced to dispute it in a different matter.

her heart thrummed in her chest. lively and vibrant. uncertain, but unwilling to waver. breaking a thousand years of tradition! it was no easy feat, she could not walk with peace into it. but she could be confident. collected.

she could count on the ears of we'eb senmut, of nazli. need be she could pull khaba closer.

we will be in opposition if need be. she decided then and there. yet it was not with pleasure or even a backbone of iron. it was a grim fact, one she stared into the face of now.

i do not wish to put a strain upon our trip as his first emissary work, but it does not feel well to hide it longer than needed.

she seated herself now.

there was a fraction of the strength in her now that had been shown last night.

and there was less in him than he had expected. "i have two sons and three daughters. i did not expect for your ka to be male." was there humour here? perhaps. unaddressed. nuanced. he moved onward, feeling the great weight of exhaustion settle into his chest.
"you will have more brothers. you will have more sisters. and i will rule till death. if you make an enemy of siptah, then your little siblings will see this and remember when they are old enough to strike at you."
pharaoh's crown came to he who survived.
the task at hand. "i will call for both of you. begin your discussion in my throne room." and he would take no sides.
"if you cannot be diplomatic, then siptah alone will go to epoch. you will stay here in thoughtfulness."

her ka.

male.

she did not feel it, but she did not speak it. even as the threat of siblings below her came to a top. they are welcomed to do as i have done. it was their right, as it was her right. how could she fault any other for doing what she did?

i understand.

for her morning had only begun and she felt drained already. dreaming of a shadowed place, to lie in wait until her father called.

you have heard me clear as day. i am grateful for this, you know.

she was grateful; she shattered the faience names of a hundred dead men who rolled in their painted tombs and she was grateful.
and pharaoh thought then, and piercingly, that her mother and his first love, one and the same; that he heard her laughter from over his shoulder, and smelled the rich fragrance she had always worn.
he ordered her away with a flick of his tail.
and when pharaoh was alone, alone and staring at the sacrifice, two hot tears dripped once from his face and became one with the bleakened gore.