Lion Head Mesa Influx

“Here arrives Prince Rashepses of Ta-senet, Iry-pat of the right bank.”

He arose in full state with his retinue to officiate his coming, festooning with gilded wealth, a trio of trotting goats and other accouterments leading up from the South. A sampling of the bride price offered by the river kingdom.

The group of courtiers parted and the Prince’s dark stride cut through them, long strands of his black nape caught abeam in the high desert winds.

He tilted his own muzzle back to sing for Toula. For his Queen.

hope u don't mind me! involvement in this can be shortlived <3

An arrival.
A man. A man, again, another one, seeking Queen Toula's hand. And she bristles as she stalks closer to him; the cloud of red sand beneath her feet.
Immediate judgment from wildfire eyes, hard as metal as they pass over his inky figure. He is proud. Does he think himself special?
But even still, she says nothing beyond what is necessary. You stand on Akashingo's ground, ruled by Muat-riya Isetnofret Toula, Queen of the Red Serpent, Divine Wife of the Gods. nostrils flare. Zaahira herself is nobody important; least of all to this one. She cuts to the chase. Do you seek audience?

all are welcome to join =)

In great contrast to the Prince’s own invitation is the comely soldier who apparated from the upland to receive his assembly, a blatant distrust in the eye not withheld. The Prince passed through the ruck of courtiers to meet them.

He was not dissuaded by the objectionable welcome, it told him the mesa had been in reception of many Princes contending for the favor of their Majesty. One of his maidservants begins to speak before being silenced by a swift clip of the Prince’s ear.

“What is your name, warrior of Akashingo?” He slid an interested gaze over the servicewoman.

<3

A rude shut-down of his servant; one that she takes note of, a silent, salty rage stewing in the pit of her stomach. Do not think of treating our fellahin that way, she swallows the grunt that threatened to heave from her nostrils, and in its place is complete stoicism. the Queen will not take kindly to that.
But she supposed she was not meant to turn him away. Perhaps her first impression was wrong; maybe, just maybe, he'd impress her.
She's asked her own name. Zaahira. Mazoi. Protector of the Queen. a glisten to her eyes in the boiling desert sun. Come. You must meet with our erpa-ha, @Senmut. who she then calls for with a short howl; an alert that she will not be coming back to the palace alone. And with a flick of a spiny tail, she gestures for the suitor to follow her into the passageways.

The pushback was sharp, venomous, and surprising. Prince Rashepses, the man who wielded mandates from the gods, was left even more intrigued to meet with this kingdom’s sovereigns, where royal guests were subjected to such acts out of turn.

His own soldiers moved to flank him. The Prince stilled them with his paw. A brief silence descended, broken only by the baying of the goats.

“Zaahira, mazoi, Protector of the Queen. When you are a Prince, there are many who wish to speak on your behalf. I like to speak for myself, ” he spoke generously in the space between them. “Shall we allow your Queen to do the same?”

His look was courteous as he stepped back to address his fleet. “Now, we are not here to sour the good populace of the mesa, are we men? Please, escort us to your erpa-ha.”

smeared with paint once more, senmut turned to receive the whispers from one of the fellahin: that another prince had come, bringing with him an impressive retinue and — livestock?

intrigued despite his immediate weariness at testing yet another man, senmut gave quiet instructions for a meal to be laid in his quarters, for the prince's servants to be given rest among the fellahin of akashingo, for the mazoi to be warned in readiness of the traveling soldiers who would join them in their barracks.

those unwolf animals were to be guarded in the open-air throne room.

he himself washed in the wellspring; toweled vigorously by an attendant with a soft skin, he paced down the hallway for where he expected zaahira had taken them: to his rooms. the servants would precede him, laying out fine dishes of steppefowl and mutton with wildflower honey and the ever-present potent berries.

senmut himself let the prince wait, and did not arrive until he had been arrayed in the fine white cougar-skin signalling his rank as high priest in addition to erpa-ha. his eyes were touched with fine black ash at their corners, lengthening their look, and he entered his rooms in quiet state. eset's words remained with him.

"i am senmut, erpa-ha and hem netjer tepi of akashingo. by the hand of the Godswife, i am made whole."

he stood before the taller man, seeking into the gold and fine dark features for something more concrete, a true offering for the queen of his land.

He leered, rapturous of the palace’s cavernous beauty, augmented by his share of the fermented berries, of which two were already missing before the decorated erpa-ha swept into the chamber. Away he turned from the fine frescos to see the Prince.

“Erpa-ha Senmut!” His voice bellowing and rich as he clasped an arm about the red priest, pulling him into an embrace to unite them like two old friends. “Prince Rashepses of Ta-senet.”

“Such hospitality you bestow,” his glittered look commended the rockbed Prince, the disorderly behavior of the Queen’s guard willingly overlooked for now. “We received your summons last season. We were delayed. My father has joined our ancestors in A'Aru. My brother now sits upon the throne of the river kingdom.” And Rashepses remained the last unwed son. He reached for a third berry.

“How does Akashingo fare?” He asked, looking now more deeply into the erpa-ha's face while allowing the tartness to steep on his tongue.

hira out!

She would not stick around.
A low gesture of her head is given in a silent introduction; Rashepses, Senmut, back again; and when she sees so that her presence is no longer necessary, she hands the black swan over to the resting prince.
But a passing glance over the redlined figure of the erpa-ha is given as she makes her exit from his quarters. Her eyes gleam with something unknown.
If she were asked, she would have said he looked a bit more like himself.

he was seized, embraced; senmut stiffened at the sudden familiarity, which he enjoyed only when he sought it out from among his servants. and yet he relented, and offered something like a smile.

"my condolences. may your father find amusement and rest in the Land of Reeds," the erpa-ha said with genuine feeling. so he was a younger prince, perhaps. one to marry for an alliance and perhaps reap its benefit beneath his own dynasty.

but why come so far for akashingo? did he intend to bring her back with him? "please, join me. we have done well in trade and in number. the queen stands prepared to seek out her summer palace and wedding estate," he said lightly, taking a bit of berrywine as he settled across his couches.

The Erpa-ha hardened. The riverprince smiled. He was stiff like the stone of his halls, while Rashepses was fluid, like the spray of his river. He knew rock could be carved, smoothed by the abrasion of water coursing along it. And now water had come to Akashingo.

“No condolences necessary. We will meet again,” when he has risen to Pharaoh. “And perhaps you will make merry with us when the time comes, Erpa-ha! Now that you are, as you say, ‘made whole’.” It was the blatant amusement on his lips that would tell Senmut everything he needed to know of Rashepses' mind. A man-made prince would never find equal measure among those born to godhood, as both he and the Queen were. Perhaps that is why the Erpa-ha had not taken his own sovereign in marriage.

The obsidian prince reclined then and indulged in all of Akashingo’s offered luxuries. First the poultry, then the honey, and berries between each tasting.

“Tell me more of your Queen. She remains unwed?”

something golden was in the set of jaw and eye; the fellahin become priest become prince, the river-mud of aswan breathed upon by gods-breath — he saw the fecund glimmer for what it was: an answering holiness.

"i will drink with you all night, good prince."

he heard the slight; it was taken, dissolved as parchment clenched in a hidden hand. he had their ruler's trust. rashepses had nothing.

"of her own accord, she remains Divine Wife to the Gods," senmut murmured quietly, reaching for a pair of pleasantly biting berries. "her soul is pious. it was she who ordered that more altars be built this past year. she is kind, above all else; the lowest of the fellahin has her heart and ear, as she cares for their very ka."

"she is daughter to ramesses the second, granddaughter to seti, great-granddaughter of thothmes the bull. bintanath, meritamun, and the Great Royal Wife tuya, only a few of the queens behind her lineage." senmut's voice had taken on a languid, meandering tone, and he took another berry as his body relaxed.

a game.

"tell me of you, prince rashepses. a man of your age might have two wives and a concubine by now. why have you saved yourself?" assumption; dry. senmut knew the antics of his betters.

Rashepses had nothing. Yet.

He listened to this ‘new money’ man as he chewed and drank, partaking ravenously as the journey had been long, and too-long he had gone without customary riches. Hungry eyes reached back to the erpa-ha at his questioning. The riverprince smiled.

The stone bed man knew how to throw his element, and Rashepses knew how to take a hit. He was youngest of three brothers.

“Of my own accord, I remain unwed. My soul is pious. I build altars, many this past year. Above all else, I care for people, for their very ka,” he laughed then before refocusing, “I am a man like you, no?”

“I was chief architect under my father. I am not experienced in matters of the state. But it was my father’s dying wish that all his sons be Pharaoh.” He took a swig.

“So, here I am, Senmut. I will find your summer palace. I will celebrate your Queen’s coronation with your men. Then, I will make her my bride.”

He challenged. In truth, he did not mind the stoneprince. He found him quite beautiful, quite wellspoken. But if the Queen was going to marry him, she already would have.

"are you so certain she will choose you, prince? she has a commander before her, a courtier, a romantic." he did not name himself as challenger to rashepses, wishing to know how the man might fare being led in such a direction.

the meat-offerings of akashingo were rich and sweet, though both tastes turned to chaff in his mouth, to see such ribald confidence. suppose the queen were responsive to it. did he himself wish to serve beneath this man as pharaoh?

senmut knew he would retain his title as high priest so long as the queen held influence. but rashepses did not seem a man who would permit the eclipse of a royal woman, even one so blooded as their ruler.

the mockery spiked along his tongue. he felt emboldened by the drink. and yet he bided his time.

“I am not a commander, nor a courtier. I wouldn’t call myself a romantic, either,” he mused with pursued lips. “But, I am honest.” And how many men could say that, he wondered? Could the redstone prince?

“I’ve no patience for deceit layered beneath flowery language. My time here is limited. I work hard. I want to make things. And if the Queen too values this, then together we will make Akashingo the greatest power of the realm.” He slid a tongue over his teeth and settled back, burning delightfully under the effects of the berries.

His jaws parted to laugh, “Really, I can’t think of anything more romantic than that.”

ambitious. he was the opposite of the queen in all ways; where she was thoughtful, rashepses was a force. where she might use kindness, senmut sensed this one would use a harsher tactic.

attempting to be objective, the hereditary prince asked himself: was not the blending of opposites a natural pull? balance in both directions.

it was unfortunate that senmut saw much of ramesses in the brash and handsome prince himself.

would his queen see it?

he trusted implicitly her choice. he must, and he must stand protector over the path she chose to travel. his lot was with her, and if it was rashepses that the red queen placed on the Horus Throne, then senmut would abide, would even become subservient if she asked it of him.

she was his ruler beyond any pharaoh who might stand lawful and full of edicts beside her.

"limited? do you have somewhere to be, lord prince?"

“Yes. As do you, to A’Aru. A prince has a hundred enemies. That day for us may come sooner than we’d like,” his voice was steady, nearly accepting. A Pharaoh’s reign was not often long. If time was fleeting, there was none of it to squander. On trivial rivalries, either. If this man Senmut wanted health for his pack and his Queen, then they were not enemies, regardless of the breeding that substantiated Rashepses’ superiority over the hereditary prince.

“Tell me, Erpa-ha, of your wants for this kingdom, and for yourself,” he inquired. At leisure now with one hunger appeased and worn muscles obliged, he focused only on the refinement of this priest, the pleasing furl of his mouth, and the grace of his posture.

it was an appeal to spirituality, a quality of which senmut approved despite himself. rashepses claimed to be no wielder of courtcraft and yet in his very directness he created an image that was doubtful to be upheld.

at least to senmut's mind. "i dream of the queen bringing us into a dynasty of peace and prosperity, those things which have marked her reign." he allowed himself to smile. "my happiness is at its most healthful when she is joyous. i want the gods to remain pleased with akashingo, and they have given us that in all ways since she became queen."'

“I raise a glass to you, Erpa-ha. We will work together to see the Gods are pleased, the Queen has her joy- and as well, you have your's,” a lisped oath from a tongue gone lazy with liquor and eyes heavy.

He took up his drink and emptied the dish then rose with a gracious dip of nose to the stoneprince.

last for me! <3

likewise; the prince raised his own, and together they drank before rashepses rose gracefully.

senmut did not need to dismiss him; he embraced the departure with a smooth, slightly open expression as the berries worked their potency.

three princes and one throne.