Lion Head Mesa serekh

the evening's shadows filled the palace. the hallways were quieter now a number of attendants had gone with the queen and princess. ramesses drifted. he had not been able to remove the sear-cut image of her form flickering almost weakly in the corridor.
and so gripped by the long held desire and entitlement of his rank, pharaoh returned to his throne room and began to bark orders to those remaining.

***

night had come. the pharaoh had been bathed in the wellspring and buffed with pine and cedar until his coat fairly glowed. the sleeping-skins were pristine, and at the eating-mats there rested a generous amount of the winterdrink.
resplendent, gilded; ramesses lifted a languid limb and sent a servant to bring @Nazli. he sat upon his throne in repose to wait, lips moving in prayer to Amun.

Orders flowed through fellahin, who would react and accommodate, until Nazli came aware to the wants of Ramesses. It was time.

Her anxiety peaked with the first mention. In a hurry the fellahin tending to her were quick to tidy her furs, decorate her with flowers, anything that would make her more of an entree for Ramesses; she insisted on the bone necklace in a sudden wave of need, and would go nowhere without it. The reeds were fastened soundly to her neck.

From there she was escorted to the pharaoh. She was cautious the entire time, not hurrying. The fellahin with her pressed her for more urgency and yet she could not move faster, feeling like every step was weighted. When she came to the doorway she took a breath, then stepped inside.

Within the chamber there was quiet. She smelled fresh meats, the cloying scent of more flowers- and there, sprawled and waiting, saw the pharaoh.

it was an odd and beautiful thing, a filling of a great circle as at last nazli stood before him. pharaoh descended the rough steps below his throne with proud movements, coming to stand before her downturned eyes.
he saw her made satin, garlanded with flowers; he saw the little talisman around her neck and stared at it for a moment before a slow honeyed smile crossed his face.
"do you fear me, nazli?" ramesses asked softly, close enough to touch though he did not. "look at your pharaoh."
the command was gentle, easy; in the next moment he would steer them both toward the cups of waiting drink, the food that would be left untouched at least by him.

He was a serpent, the way he moved and the way he spoke. If she looked now would he be crowned with a cobra's mantle? A flickering tongue?
He commanded her eyes upon him and, after training, she knew to obey so up those dark eyes came. Was she afraid of him? Yes; he was a much more than her. He was divine.
Did he expect an answer? She followed him to where the wine sat, and the food.
I am nervous, sir. A soft answer, appeasing. Sokha and Sayf have prepared me, but I'm... I'm still only a fellahin, and you're... pharaoh!
Not to mention, her best friend's father.

ramesses hummed a light laugh at that; he lifted a pale paw. "drink," he said, the liqueur already burning a hot path from heart to veins to belly to loins. "shall we speak plainly then?" he said. perhaps sugared words were not what she wished.
perhaps her delicate ears needed easier fare. "i am certain you have been told what to expect." he sat back upon the low couch and regarded the fellahin across from him. 
"ask your questions. even if they do not have anything to do with this, at hand." he meant to be gracious, even as his lazuli eyes compelled her closer, to open, to speak.

Nazli had never tried the strong drinks, not even during the wedding. That was a privilege of the guests, and the divine, after all. Now she was being offered everything she had ever dreamed of tasting: the finest meat cuts carefully prepared, special wines shared only with a chosen few. That was how she would look at this! A moment, a night, where she could play at fantasy.

So, when Ramesses offered the wine, she would drink. With the food she would spare some moments to taste and revel. Though he offered her a space to ask her questions, she found she had little to say.

One thought did plague her. Something she was shy to bring up, however, the wine loosened her tongue and softened her resolve.

I know what to expect. It has been shared with me in my lessons. I only wonder... why, ahm... why me? But she knew that too, to a point. It was his prerogative to sample his own supply: wines, meats, and flesh.

indulgently he watched her savor the fine food and drink, until sipping brought her to question. he wanted to answer that this was his right but it felt as though it might harm the fineness of the moment.
"why not?" was his answer, a fine and milkweed challenge, accompanied by a flash of a smile. "do you have a lover in your heart, tucked beneath this very roof?"
he took another good draught of the drink, settling back onto the satin fur of the pelt-cushions. "i intend fine things for you, nazli."
but first she must have a sense of her own power, how to move in the world. in a way there was freedom.
ramesses remained soft, approachable; his eyes bid her speak again.

Why not?

Who could love her beneath this roof? Did she even want that? It didn't matter; she was here for one reason and it was Ramesses who would dictate the rest of her life.

Fine things...? She repeated, and sipped more wine. It made her warm and dizzy, and she soon found it hard to sit still or even to stand! So she found a soft place to lay, and tried to stay attentive.

I am not made for fine things. I clean, I... hunt, that was new and nobody knew of it, but now she spoke openly of what she learned in Mereo, and couldn't stop! What good am I?

conversation was one of the marks for a good courtesan. but ramesses saw none of that in nazli now, only a girlish downturn with a soft voice.
it was his divine right to touch her now, but he did not, only gazed at the gentle contours of her body in the half-light.
she spoke and he heard doubt. trepidation. it occurred to ramesses that for all her noble training she was not ready.
"you have the beauty of a budding lotus," he told her, all rife with smiles and priests'-poems. "in this space, your pleasure as well as mine is held sacred." a fellahin did not leave his bedchamber without having experienced much sensation of their own.
it was his way to give back, somehow, to work beyond indulgence for a true and magnificent connection.
the lapis eyes then filled with tiredness. he beckoned nazli closer to him, to lie softly near. "tell me your desires," ramesses said gently, a soft arm about her now.

Through his talk she heard Senmut, she saw Senmut, and felt at-ease. He invited her close, and the drink made her want to be there; it felt much like the priests bed from the night of the wedding - soft, spacious, warm.

What did Nazli desire?

She was quiet and tried to think, but found the wine had slowed the process. Some ideas came easily and made her smile and even laugh to herself, imagining smaller scenarios.

Bathing with Makono.
Chasing the runner birds across the snow.
Watching the sunrise with Senmut.

I want... did she even know? Nazli had such a small life with limited experience, so what could she even ask for? It was not her place to desire things, even within this fantasy space, as she played at being royal.

She found herself coveting the physical presence of the man, his warmth, the solidity of him. The wine spiced her breath. I want to be someone else.

"and who is it you want to be?"
ramesses touched nazli with a chaste brush to her cheek, then a pulling away. "you might be mistress to a prince. or perhaps the splash of life on the arm of a holy man, until he knows all that Amun grants him is through you."
once in his father's great vast court, which he himself had almost replicated — once he had been a speaker of stories and riddles. many had thought him too young to carry a prophet's voice, until they had heard it.
nazli would now.
"you love the crown prince." it was not delivered in a tone that welcomed denial. "she is my heir. you want to serve her, beyond me." no rancour. no bitterness. ramesses wanted only to know he was right.

He did speak in riddles! It was hard for her to follow with the wine growing stronger within her, blurring things in her head. Mistress. Holy man. The prince. Nazli no longer thought of what worried her because she was so addled by the wine and words.

But he spoke of Makono now. What wouldn't she do for the crown prince? I would do anything for her, she crooned now, flustered all over again at the memory of the baths, although it was now only a haze. Anything.

I do love her. My sister - my Makono, but... She changes. And I am changing. It was all so confusing. When did it get easier? The girl sighs and presses her forehead in to the man's chest, forgetting for now his divinity, and seeking only comfort.

a low sound of assent came from the pharaoh. as nazli curled into him, he pulled her closer. but his eyes were fixed on the far wall as he thought of makono, beautiful, ambitious makono.
how long did he have?
how long would he grant?
"yes. but she must change. and so will you."
the night's ardor seemed a hundred miles below his surface, and so pharaoh kept the fellahin close, if she slumbered, until she sobered.
"now," ramesses said when they had both surfaced from the swimming of heady drink, "go and rest. take the day for it," he ordered gently. she was no less lovely but all of him, all of him was turned to the love and fear and anger toward his own divine heir. 
nazli had pleased him with her conversation. he would call her another time.

Nazli made a small sound, and startled herself; she had been drifting somewhere between awake and asleep, comforted by the warmth of the body next to her, and dizzy from the drink. It was a little sigh that roused her and then she could focus again upon the man's words, although she didn't fully grasp at what he was saying, not in her condition. She'd had too much too fast - her nerves making quick work of her ability to regulate her choices.
Now, go and rest.
He was dismissing her? She lifts her head and looks sleepily upon the gilded face of the pharaoh, blinks, and realizes she's not been the most invigorating company. What would her tutors think? Worse, what did he think? He had not tried anything - which she was pleased with, to be truthful - but Nazli knew she had a role to play and the delay, while desirable, only made her feel guilty.
She opened her mouth to say something, but heard Sokha's voice in the back of her mind: do not question him, he is our pharaoh. Do as you are bade, girl.
Nazli accepted the order. If he was happy then she did her job, although - she couldn't fathom how he could be pleased with her, as he hadn't gotten what he'd wanted, and their conversation was already dissolving in her mind. She gave a slow, practiced bow to him and pulled away from his embrace, then moved with an unsteady, almost weaving gait towards the door.
Uncertain how she felt in that moment, she was happy enough to be dismissed, and to find her way back to her own little alcove to sleep off the wine.