Firefly Glen [PHE] Iwn

forward dating a day, say the 6th?

It was not the evening he had planned for his wife. Atop a hill some yards away from the jostling crowds and festivities where @Nasima had been watching their godlings, the fellahin had arranged a berth of newly acquired bear pelts from the moon kingdoms and scattered the downy furs with white lily petals. A five course meal had been devised, presenting rare specialties from each visiting territory.

Rashepses would have made love to Pharaoh under the stars on these pelts, and now they tore beneath arduous pacing.

Word had come up from Muat-riya. One of their own children, attacked. A dangerous prisoner, released. It wouldn’t stand. Payment would be made in spilled blood. Semer-wati faced @Toula, tensed. The jovial festivities made for an unfavorable war-room.

“We must return home. Tonight,” his voice is gruff. An emblazoned gaze circled his jewel’s face before flicking upon their children playing in the meadows below.

at the very least, she had been given time to appreciate what he had done for her. they sat before one another, she feeding him and he feeding her—delighted laughter rang in the air,
and then the news came. what was this feeling within her? it gripped her, it was terrible and cold and dark and she wondered if this was madness. it consumed her.
it was not—it was rage. rage at the injustice, at the cruelty. an eye for an eye would make the whole world blind—how funny, to have taken this as truth once! how sweet the sentiment! such was only true if the same face accepted such vicious treatment.
she would not. could not. who was she? what was this thing inside of her? Toula looked to her children playing in the glade, saw @Khaemwaset peering upward. it could have been any one of them.
she thought of the bear skull she had gifted @Kukutux, the claw and fang marks that engraved it—
motherhood had not softened her. but it had changed her. she looked back to Rashepses. the fire of his gaze raged in the blue-flame of her own. they die for this, whisper-quiet, for his ears only—it will never be any one of them!
Safiya. oh, Safiya! no time for tears, not until the work was done. she was not only mother, now. she spoke as Pharaoh. they die for this—a command delivered. one she herself would work to see done.

Words carried malice in those perfect tones, the voice of Pharaoh firm, crackless. Seasoned. Toula’s eyes darkened now and that reality ripped through Rashepses. He could not look at her without feeling a love so sharp.

Semer-wati bent his head, taking the small, smooth paw into his own, holding it to the side of his cheek. It was a silent promise of what those paws would do.

“They die for this.”

In violent acts would manifest the fate of all mortal men. “The mercenaries will be sent South, Pharaoh. We will hunt them to extinction.”

With a rigid gaze he looked down into his wife’s eyes, a deeper green in the night with flecks of turquoise light that shone in them. The same gemstone regard she gave to their son. Behind them sounded the joyous laughter of their children.

He would never let anything happen to them.

she pressed her right to be here.

while the children's pretty governess occupied them, tavina strode up the small rise and approached the divine pair.

her stride was determined; her bow was low but brusque. "servants talk," was all she said to explain her apparent familiarity with the rumours swirling through two camps. "what is to be done?" the sesh asked, not daring to settle as she stood upon unsteady ground.

she was grateful for him, his stalwart support. he was unafraid of her decree—he embraced it. embraced her. their children watched, and she leaned in to kiss him. there will be nothing left of them once we are done, she breathed, soothed—a moments peace, to believe in this conclusion.
but Tavina reminded there was still work to be done! she withdrew, looked to the Sesh. we go. the hunt begins—but there will be no trial for what they have done to our Mazoi. only an execution, she breathed. servants talk—let Tavina continue and end the conversation with this. her mercy ended when the kingdoms children were involved—and she would let her actions reveal as much. 
Toula looked to her husband. the children should know there is a scourge to be wiped clean from this world—and that we two shall see it done. that we are protectors of the realm, a heroes work was sometimes bloody. but it might be good, to understand that—to be unafraid of it, though still to not be reckless in pursuit of it. we shall pray to Sekhmet with them, and leave Her a grand offering before we depart, a good lesson, she thought, as the camp was packed.
she looked to Tavina, who had reared her—she wondered if such a thing was unwise. were they too young? should it wait, until it all was done? she quietly wondered, and listened for the words of husband and the mother that she had left.

Semer-wati returned Toula’s ardent kiss, raising her chin with his paw, and coursing it down the side of her throat. Only a moment’s peace, of what had been stolen from them this night.

Rashepses turned to the inquiry of the sesh, “a girl from Muat-riya’s been injured. She has been brought to the red palace for healing. All of us will return to Akashingo tonight. Then @Mesen-ka and I will leave for Muat-riya at first light. You will barricade yourselves within the mesa until I send word of our victory,” he spoke to his wife, then, pressing an urgent kiss to the crown of her head.

“We will speak with the children together.”

whether or not these brash young wolves liked it, their palace was beneath siege. all this talk of bloodshed and revenge was just that — talk. she was exasperated by it! yet to hear they were to be moved to the mesa was a relief, however, and she gave a slight nod.

tavina wanted to suggest that the little royals be left behind for this. surely she and nasima were capable enough. but now all she could think of was "which child?"

she understood why she could not go with them, to gather the infidels, to bring them to camp—she was Pharaoh, and not an expendable piece. but she did not think her husband was, either, nor the man he listed—another new father. 
and she was no warrior. she had no wish to be, even then. but still, she must look upon the face of the man that did it. perhaps they might look upon her and think her to be the weakest link—but it was something all of them would know. she contemplated. we do not smell of Akashingo, nor of Muat-Riya. it might be best, husband, if you and I go forth—we tell the camps here of what has transpired, they fortify their defenses. our enemies might expect an army—do you think that they would expect traders? her eyes are bright with the beginnings of a plan, and she looks to Tavina. 
their children would be safe here. the name, the name—Toula knows the girls sister is here. she rounds Tavina, so the children cannot read her lips. she leans into her ear, so no others can hear the name. our Safiya, comes her heartbroken voice.

Adamant refusal was held only by Semer-wati’s tightly pressed lips as he looked into his wife’s face, incensed like he’d never before seen her.

“Ready your things, sesh. The girl needs immediate medical attention,” gruffly he spoke and with simmering eyes excused the doctor. This was a conversation between Pharaoh and King, and when they were alone he regarded his wife fiercely.

“Out of the question, Toula,” Rashepses’ face soured, golden eyes flashing brighter in the moonlight. None spoke to Pharaoh this way. In a reversal of tradition she held the ultimate authority. The riverking had scorned his lineage by releasing his rights to the title– and now she threatened his very reason for doing so; this love, and the family they built together. The black hackles stood.

“A mother should stay with her children, where they will be safely guarded,” he takes up more words, muscles in the clenched jaw leaping. She would not deny the roles of man and woman. For long moments he paced, lips peeling, ears flattened, then at last turned back to her with a deepened look that was almost vulnerable.

“My love, I cannot lose you.”

none had refused her, none, not ever—and it was only her surprise that kept her quiet. she watched Rashepses, wondering what the meaning of this was. as he paced, she stepped into his path when she saw the vulnerability there, the fear.
she thought of tradition—not merely that of mothers, but of Pharaohs. perhaps all would stay behind, rather than dirty their paws—and Toula herself was not a warrior! it would be easy to give into this fear she shared with him.
Rashepses, she breathed, I want to be by your side. in this, in everything, she stepped toward him, eyes filled with that same vulnerability—that same love. I want to do this, together. and if it pleases you, we can summon @Mesen-Ka and invite the moon warriors to follow us. you are strong and you are fierce—I want to see you this way, in your element. you can drag this mongrel to me—you can bring him to his knees for me. for I want to finish this monster, the faces of her children, of Tiye, of the young of Muat-Riya flashed in her mind. she moves to hold his paw, we must! 
they two, uniters or kingdoms—bringers of Justice. together, my love, she murmured, standing taller, eyes filled with the want of many things—most of all, him. would he refuse her this? could he not see as she did, the power they two had together?

tavi out! tag for ref!

safiya.

she shut her eyes with a crisp nod. the semer-wati dismissed her, which annoyed tavina as much as anything else. there was no time to exchange any look with toula; she only gestured at pharaoh in an assuring way and turned to stride straight-backed to muat-riya's camp. unfortunately for poor @Tiye, she too must come along. such a state of affairs.

From his chosen sprung all the wrath and flames of a warrior goddess, and as he fretted Rashepses knew these were the ideals that bound them eternally and soldered their love.  His Toula; graceful as a swan with the feral power of the mesa lioness.  On his face reluctance threaded with the equal want to see the hand that passes the laws pass also her claws. His eyes upon her flared like great fires, tail rearing high, the back of his hand finding the flaxen velor of her heartshaped face.

Punishment from the gods was a terrible thing, and yet he could imagine nothing more beautiful than the strike of his wife's own claw and fang. His dark posturing reformed to obsidian armor, wrapping as protective chainmail around the golden stirrings of Pharaoh.

Memory returned the oath that brought him to her. They were the shepherds of a new age, him and her, and they would act as one, showing their godlings the adamantine strength of a union between Gods.

“Yes, Pharaoh. We will seek out the moon warriors. You and I will go together.”

And they would not do their murdering from the shadows. They would lay siege to these hellhounds and rip their sordid hearts from themselves.