Two Eyes Cenote love, love, love—

@Zaahira was near, as she often was—the chaste and pious Toula was not ever without the watchful eye of her own most trusted when in the company of men, a lesson in decorum and the ways of being a proper lady by @Tavina. the Queen would not invite scandal! 
always within sight, but not always heard at least—the rush of a stream, the roaring of falls, the howling of the winds. 
her heart raced as she thought of him. and nearing his own chambers, Toula loosed a feminine, trilling whistle for him to come meet her with a grand smile upon her lips. 

attn @Rashepses!

can be a cameo or not! whatever u guys prefer <3

Rashepses.
Oh, how that ball of hatred swelled every time she thought of him. How she loathed the way her Queen seemed to fall at his feet; the way he had charmed her into thinking he is more than a snake in the metaphorical boot.
But as she had promised, Zaahira would not leave her alone with him. A leer of wariness given to her golden woman as they approach his chamber. Are you sure he is who you want?
What was she to do if the answer was yes? And better yet, who else was there for her to give her hand?

Happy to have Zaahira stay!

Providence was discovering what already is, like a language, or a spirit. For him, it was a whistle. Gentle in tune, but capturing the echo of something like yesterday: the foolhardy child Raemka paddling in the riverwake of his older brothers, or the young princess Toula reciting words for her Goddess Iset. A time before they had evolved in pre-determined ways, whittled and fitted into their ranks.

Rashepses became the figurehead.  His father in A’Aru would carry pride. Yet, somehow, he longed to return to where he’d been all those years ago. And he could by her whistle, which drew him swiftly from his chamber where he stood wordlessly drinking her pale gold before reaching to kiss her paw.

“You were on my mind,” he breathed, amusement playing upon his lips. He glanced at Zaahira and drew nearer.

“You are always there.” But she knew.

kindling, again—she did not know of Zaahira’s hatred, only of her mistrust. and the days spent with him she hoped might ease this, but now Toula sought to ease her own heart. in her Erpa-Ha had she sensed something—and that something, she did not know. perhaps it was that he was a man, and Rashepses born a God; perhaps it was only you when for Toula, the moment the Sphinx had first written her, for the first time, there was Him—
and you were in my dreams, she answered, turquoise eyes bright as they looked to him. as his gaze turned toward Zaahira, Toula moved to step into his line of sight as he moved nearer.
she needed him to look upon her, wholly—to see her, as she needed to see him then. I must know, Rashepses—…are you here, only to become Pharaoh? if I were in that seat, if you were King—could you love me?

<33 !!

Silence hangs heavy upon the mouth of the chosen jodai.
Toula is to be pharaoh.
She had wished for it, prayed for it in secret, but never before had she thought this would be considered; said aloud by the woman herself. Zaahira thought to give Rashepses a smile; I told you so; but it does not come. The Queen now offers him her hand. The knife-stab of his jaw, the strike of smooth voice, a memory: you will bow to me.
She will not. He just does not know it yet.

King? King? A King did not rule a desert realm.

Was he here to become Pharaoh? Yes. He was. Third-born Pharaoh in a long familial line of Pharaohs. Supreme judge and head of state, a fulfillment of his father’s dying wish to unite all his children among the reeds. Rashepses had not come here to be deemed anything other. He came for the throne of Pharaoh.

But he stayed for Toula. His affection for her, his desire, his love- it was not predicated upon who between them held ultimate authority.

He reached for her arm, the one that bore his gift, the pelt-leather bracelet with the crude inscription, and held it before her eyes.

“What does it say?” He asked her.

the things there, that they two looked upon, legible for their eyes in that their hearts knew it’s meaning. and she looked to his, tears pricking the corners of her gaze. I want for you to be my husband, she breathes, but Ma’at—She has spoken to me. more than just Her. the Gods, they ask me to be Pharaoh, did he understand? 
she wondered if she must set him free, as she had Senmut. free to pursue Pharaonic greatness, as he had intended. she finds herself less prepared for this, and asks the Gods to lend her Their strength.
will you stay? comes her gentle voice, her gaze holding his as she moves to touch his own arm, chaste, hopeful! must you leave?

Royal guard.
Fan bearer on the right side of the pharaoh.
She says nothing, but her eyes cut sharply to the smarmy mug of chosen consort; you will bow to her. Just as Zaahira had chosen so readily to do — just as the Gods willed for her to do.
She keeps her place and makes it clear by the set of her shoulders that if he is to disobey, if he is to cause a scene — if violence at his hands were to fall upon their kingdom, then a fire would be lit beneath him, and Zaahira would breathe life into it.

How tender his heart in her girlish grace. Yet he knew he would be always the laughing stock amongst his brothers, that his father would carry the shame of a failed son, and his mother, too.

A great shade was cast over his sun by the thought of smothering their growing fire, and in the turquoise gloss of her eyes, he found thus that he could not part with her- and he was unwilling to do so for title alone.

There was a future here for him, if not in the way he had imagined, but still in the way of partner to his flame.

The prince from Ta-senet was quiet, but in his mind a decision had long ago been made. In a fluid kneel he poised so Toula stood over him, where the bright rays of Ra framed her crown like the golden disk of Aten.

“Then I bow to you. It is you I want- this marriage. For you to be the mother to my children. To build the kingdoms of Akashingo and Muat-Riya together. To shepherd a new age greater than any have known before.”

“Marry me, Pharaoh Toula,” between the obsidian of his own paws, he held her ivory.

it took every bit of her to not sob as he knelt before her then, speaking to her so—oh! and in this moment, he gave up what few other men would—and he stayed, he stayed!
she thanked the Gods by name, every one, as she beheld him. and as he held her paw between his, Toula knew only that I will, soft enough for him alone to hear at first, as her eyes searched his own—but no deceit there, no trickery,
I accept your proposal, Sphinx Rashepses. we shall do all those things, and more, for she was inspired to more greatness by him now, he who did not shirk from her becoming who the Gods would have her be. he who embraced her, as she had been and as she would be!

He has accepted it!
To say Zaahira had been colored surprised would be an understatement. Shocked pale, she watches the exchange in a continued, echoing silence;
King Consort Rashepses.
Pharaoh Toula.
She searches the firelight gaze of the sphinx for signs of ulterior motivation, of a plan, and finds instead what she can only assume to be a genuine admiration. Her trust is not earned; not yet, not in entire; but she is satisfied for the moment.

And more.

For long her paw bore his kiss.

A love in defiance of your father, in defiance of the womb that birthed you and all that your blood was bred to do.

He cast out of his mind that which taunted, before it could worm deep into his bones.

He looked into her eyes, gaze intent, and saw his future.