Firefly Glen [PHE] senet dogs ☥

princeling solemnly stared up at the terrace where the divine pair of akashingo sat apart from the young royals.

something was wrong. in all of him, khaemwaset knew it; in all of him he was attuned, his eyes unblinking and his body tense.

what had happened?

Merneith was invigorated by the day’s joyous affairs and was late to perceive how the air had changed.

A fellahin approached. Mother and father no longer laughed, their voices dropped uncommonly low.

Khaem was unsettled.

The princess stared. Stared, and tried to conciliate the alarm that seized her breathing.

"it's all right. they have all the power they need," khaemwaset murmured absent-mindedly. he put an arm around neith, reacting to her fear with protection.

"i hope they tell us," he went on. "we are royalty. we should know all that goes on." and now his eyes moved to their mother, up there with the semer-wati on the hill.

pls lmk if this isn't okay <3 feel free to skip or ignore

the royal children eye their parents nervously. tiye, too, kept an ear open to their hushed words. tragedy seemed to follow the kingdom, from the peasants to the royal family.

she approached the pair, an offering of food ready. but tiye wasn't stupid — she could see the worry that furrowed their little brows, and the limpness of their tails.
things will be okay. is the only veil of comfort she could drape over the both of them. though they were so young, somehow the fellahin who was their senior instead felt so small in comparison.

Neith stares at Khaem’s profile, which has gone flinty. His way, perhaps, when he’s trying to not to feel too much, to protect his siblings. But who would protect him?

She’s taken into his arms and is soothed by the twinning heartbeat. She feels herself nod in unity.

Why shouldn't they know all? Gods are omnipresent.

“Shall we ask?” She peers to her brother. She would not have the confidence to do so, except that she wouldn’t be alone. Khaem would be there beside her.

The amiirad recognizes the Muat-riyan girl from the healing circle earlier that day and acknowledges her kindness. "Thank you. I am princess Satriya Merneith, and this is prince Khaemwaset. Do you know what is going on?" She inquires, hope in the scarlet eyes.

a servant drew close, murmuring. neith addressed her with the usual soft-snow regard that was becoming her own elegance. khaemwaset, who registered the fellahin as little more than a throw-pillow, turned away from their conversation.

now miss t was approaching mother and father; the prince got to his own feet with a dismal look, jealous that the sesh should be received while he had been left here as an infant might.

the mouthful of a title spills from one whereas the other doesn't even pass her a glance. tiye pretends to memorize neith's whole title while restraining a roll of her eyes. how pretentious these little rolly-pollies were! ugh! i already knew your names anyways! and i'm your senior!

but her name is not asked for, so it will not be given. probably because it just wasn't important enough to learn. she can't be too upset; she agreed to that when she decided to become fellahin.

i don't know what's going on, your Highnesses. but your parents will figure it out, like they always have and always will. tiye makes distance between herself and the royals.
i can sing, or.. tell you a story, or do anything else to entertain you, if that'll help.

The older girl gave no name. Perhaps it was unfitting of a servant to introduce themselves without royal invitation, so the princess makes her inquiry as her brother turns.

“I saw you earlier at the healing circle, you came with Miss Tavina from Muat-riya. What is your name, fellahin?” She asks, briefly wondering if the girl’s voice is as pretty as she looks. But she is quick to decline the offer of a story or song, “no, thank you.”

The amiirad wanted to hear what was transpiring. Neith takes a breath and pads slowly through the grass, closer to the scene unfolding up on the hill.

they persisted, neith with her politeness, the girl with her lilting voice. at last khaemwaset looked at the servant, truly stared at her, seeing the hue of her eyes and how she seemed at once both like them and not. "we are a bit old for stories and songs," he said slyly. "tell us about muat-riya instead. i understand the palace is ours too," he purred, preparing a glittered smile for his sister and a more malicious smirk for the fellahin.