Two Eyes Cenote stars, aligning

it was with slow steps that she moved to the place that @Senmut then occupied. the Gods had been asked, and the Gods had answered. did he know it, now? sense it? 
she was announced, and entered his own beautifully decorated receiving room quietly. not for the first time was she awed by the work of Eset—Eset, who she must keep safe and protected. and she not the only one—
I know now, she said to him, gaze still tracing over the ornaments Eset had thoughtfully decorated with, the Gods, They have come to me. my eyes, they have been opened to the past—and I see the future They would have me pursue here.
perhaps it was the mortality that was left in her father, the part that wanted to protect her, that brought forth his advice. but Toula saw now she also must think for herself—saw now that she could. 
we must prepare now for my coronation—as Pharaoh, it was now her gaze turned to him, no question being asked—not now.

Ma'at moved as Ma'at had not moved before.

no sleep had found the priest since their move to what would be known henceforth as muat-riya. and still he moved with confidence and perhaps even vitality.

khusobek had brought news of nazli; she lived!

legend too, had stirred awake.

now there remained only incense, a hundred prayers, fasting, meditation. his room too had been washed to gleaming stone and blue-glowing; his sleeping quarters were simple, senmut falling back onto the appointments of a we'eb as he pursued his gods.

a low bed of fine fur, a small altar to Amun. a wall with the start of a new painting, brushes dropped here and there haphazardly. no throne. 

but where his queen now stood was studded with sapphire-like stones, rich featherings and stands of colorful desert flowers, fine skins for the floor and the couch alike. he bowed at once.

his ears trembled, his skin turned to fire and then cooled with relief.

Ma'at, indeed! senmut was struck silent with awe and fear at the work of the gods, and so overcome he was that he could not speak. but bid him to lift his head, and she would see it in his eyes: the acceptance, the encouragement. the adulation.

"it will be done, divine one. you shall inherit your father's titles."

and now his countenance changed to one of concern; what of the princess? what of the prince rashepses and his rash men?

no argument—only acceptance. perhaps he already knew, then. he would see to it that all was done—
but she saw the concern on his face. it took a moment, but she was quick to understand. more decisions to be made. 
I will accept the proposal of @Rashepses, she said with a small smile, if he is content and prepared to become my King Consort. 
he loved her, didn’t he? and she… loved him. it must be love, this flame he had lit within her. this flame that grew with each look—the passing glances, the ones that lingered. 
and Senmut… only the Gods knew but, she loved him too! and it was for this reason she did not marry him, so that he might be free to marry who he truly wished. 
and until such a time that we have children—I had considered to make @Ashikaga my heir, now she considered Senmut, wondering what he might make of this thought. she saw the wisdom in it; should she come to pass before that time, the Royal blood would still inherit the throne.

ice sparkled suddenly through his veins, for senmut entertained no ideas that such a man would be content as Consort, to be called upon for the siring of sons and daughters but in possession of no pharaonic power.

that was what a Consort had always been — unless she meant also for this to change.

the Horus Throne moved from his hand — the moment, bittersweet.

"the prince proves to be decisive and elegant. he will make a proper companion, perfected by your divinity."

to ashikaga; he considered this, and then, for senmut knew he must speak directly for his queen, "on the birth of your first child, she will be demoted for their crown. will she accept this?" and then, because there was more trepidation within, "if the prince does not accept your offer, will you seek to content him or turn him away, great one?"

I grant to her autonomy in all other things, she spoke softly, but in this—she will have no choice. perhaps by then there will be something more for her to create, in Pharaohs name, my name! where she might be content as Queen. she did not think it ugly ambition that caused Ashikaga to reach for the throne. it was something else, but something misplaced—
everything that Akashingo needed was in her. the Gods had only wanted her to see it now. 
I do not know, she admitted then, voice fragile for a moment. mortality she was aware of—heartbreak, she had not considered. no promise of Pharaoh was ever made—the idea of it existed, only because there was none. only that with my blood, marrying me might mean one could be elevated to such a title while I am Queen. but he is an Amiir, as I once was an Amiirad—and he recognizes the Gods. I do not think he would defy Ma’at, nor duty, that was not the question, she knew—the question was what she would do. 
I will know in the moment his own heart—and that is how I shall decide our course, Toula determined. would he be satisfied, or was he hungry for only power, and not her love?

senmut saw the strategy in his queen's wise choices, and something like a smile lifted a good deal of the anxieties from his own features. now his mind touched on what her own had already considered at length; her death would leave akashingo with no royal blood to lead.

by defining ashikaga as such, she gave safeguard to a future, even one that lacked her presence.

his forehead touched the smooth floor before her.

more to ask! suppose ashikaga sought a prince or Consort of her own. would the lineage then be reared as one, or would it split in two?

summoning rashepses twice would end any concern of yet another man asserting his bloodline.

but his queen spoke softly of love, of love, and senmut knew these things were unstudied books for her experience. all of her poise, her intelligence, her knowingness; he had seen love burn these things as a fire licks the end of a field.

and yet, he wished this for her; he wished the conflagration of passion and heart-string hopes, and thought fiercely if rashepses showed any shade of ramesses, the dark laughter would end in the same poison. at his hand, this time.

death was love's opposite. he would not have toula nor akashingo tormented yet again.

a piece of senmut grew still and cold, to know he could harbor such thoughts. "you are eternally wise, great one. i believe too, she must have duties of her own. queenship would bestow this. and Ma'at moves among us. this will be shown also to your Consort."

who, in the end, perhaps would not be rashepses if he reached for more.

and you, she breathes then, speaking without really thinking, not fully—have you any wishes to marry? he, as prince, could pick who he wished!
she watched him, not knowing whether or not she wished to hear a name—not knowing if she hoped she might hear her own, even still.

nazli.

the one he had failed. the one he had not protected. the one who had suffered until senmut had rallied himself and stood at the hand of his pharaoh, before her father.

senmut, who had brought death. nazli who had carried it.

could there be a future after such ugly things?

and; furthermore; legend now sat in his mind. she did not touch the places where nazli reigned, but she had begun to forge affectionate pathways of her own. it would be a disservice to suddenly put her aside, would it not? he had shared with her devotion to their queen, in all ways; his desire, his body, his wants, they belonged to his ruler.

"it is only you who occupies this desire, great one," senmut said, his eyes alit with a genuine torchlight; there could be no other, for his devotion to the gods and by them, his pharaoh, would always hold the highest rank. 

unfair to nazli. unfair to legend. senmut was wine to be drunk.

somehow, she had not accounted for that. for this. the Sphinx was fire that warmed, consumed—but Senmut was something else entirely. was his element air, the way the breath was stolen from her? 
no. he was water. how many times had he revealed to her her own reflection in his calm waters? how many times had he healed the hurts of her spirit? how many times had he manipulated his own current, to keep her afloat?
she became aware that she, though, was fire—burning still, burning even without the Sphinx. this flame, always within her, that Rashepses first brought to life—
water that surrounded her then, muffled her hearing, that both dulled and heightened her senses. was it her fire in his gaze? or his own? 
in love and in lust both Toula was naive. she was still, watching him with searching eyes, echoing, only me?

for her a thousand times would he divert a river, uproot a mountain. for senmut was fellahin first and priest second, and prince third; servant to the darkness of fallow earth, servant to the gods, servant to queen, servant to pharaoh.

for senmut found in him the exquisite pleasure of service to those divine; fulfillment; contentment.

he was no romantic but he had learned what it might appear; he was not a man one might look upon and see lover, but senmut understood truth, and saw well enough which filled her unsaid gaze now.

to find it inside himself, wavering;

in daring touch he reached forward to brush breath from the inside of her wrist up into the crook of her elbow; never quite touching her hallowed person and yet allowing the whisper of thin hairs to speak for themselves as he woke them with the soft wind of his exhale.

"only you, pharaoh."

awoke them, awoke her—something hungry, deep within. yearning and reaching, but she did not yet know what for. Pharaoh, he called her—
what magic is this? she asked, eyes searching. he had not so much as touched her, and her knees felt weak—all of her felt weak! 
and he was so often her strength! 
there was both a want and a fear to yield to this feeling, only—only she did not know how, and…
you are certain? her words were breathier, sounding unlike she ever had—a strangers voice, but yes, she had spoken!

"this is a taste of the Divine Spark, great one." but senmut spoke in this moment as a man, not as a priest. "this searching is what brings you to the arms of a lover at all. only Amun knows how life suddenly becomes. we only touch its power through pleasure."

allowing himself at last to see her as beautiful, to see the streamlined limbs and delicacy of wrists with which she meant to cradle an empire. how her eyes were more than fine lazuli, they were the piercing sapphiric gossamer of inlaid hieroglyphic. how they were limned in lush obsidian.

how very much of him she carried, and yet so much was her own, ordained by her own presence.

"i am certain." the moment lengthened, thrummed between them — he let himself relax. 

"this sensation, do you feel it for rashepses, divine one?" senmut asked; daring; he did not want her choice to change based upon a moment at last shared.

pleasure. it sounded like passion—and if it were so, she knew she felt that for him then. was it something to be indulged within? 
no! she heard Tavina, heard her lessons. only, different. one could taste the fermented berry, but one should not have too much—leave that to the others, …
different. the same. what was a taste? what was an overindulgence? @Eset—she needed her, 
I am certain. as he relaxed, Toula contemplated stepping nearer or retreating. right, wrong—I am certain—
Rashespes! his question asked, the man named, Toula found the part of her afloat then slowly brought to anchor, back to her body. warm, she felt so very warm! would such a thing… be abnormal? to feel it, for more than one?

"not at all. it is holy, this — sensation, to be shared with whom you desire."

not everyone desired was deserving; not all deserving were desired in the same way.

they gentled the moment between them, and perhaps it was for the best.

"you are queen. soon you will be pharaoh. you may love many in a long life, divine one."

Toula stared openly at him, a gaze hungry and yearning and full of much wonder. this proximity was all at once too much and yet not enough. to move toward it, or to run away? but it was to be shared, and so she might have moved nearer—
but his next words tempered her, some. yes, Pharaoh—she remembers herself, remembers… 
I wish for you to preside over this ceremony, love, he said, she would love many. and already she knew it to be true. as she looked upon him, she knew what it was in her heart for him. 
unrequited. and now, Nazli has returned. there should be happiness in her heart for him. and she felt that there was—that he might at last find his own happiness, his own love. that thought, in truth, did make her smile. Nazli is returned. all the things we have wished for her—her freedom, her choice in who she might someday marry… they are hers, and she wondered if now he might set his sights upon her.
she did not want to set him free. but she knew that she must—that he, too, must now know she empowered him and provided him with his own.

it would be so.

"you bestow upon me a great honor, divine one." and it was so! scribe, servant; elevated;

he was not surprised to find the shimmer of tears in his eyes as he bowed deeply.

and nazli! nazli; yes; free. free to love. to marry.

but as the queen moved from Divine Wife to pharaoh incarnate, another must serve in a marriage to their gods.

and it was senmut. it must be.

"i wish only for her happiness, pharaoh."

her happiness. yes—love, that. as I wish for yours. did he see this? understand it? Toula moved to gently kiss his brow, the gesture chaste—pious. 
he, too, would be forced to nothing. he need only ask! but in her mind, she would have loved to have paired them—
she would speak with the girl. see her own mind on the matter of love. see, also, what Nazli wanted for herself. 
I find myself very tired—I will retire to my own chambers now. I wish you sweet dreams, she waited a moment longer, for any final words from him.