Two Eyes Cenote strife

attn @Khusobek !! or anyone who would be visiting him  

it took days for Toula to come to terms with what she had done. weeks, perhaps. and even then perhaps she had not yet arrived to the end of that road—that she had killed someone. she felt in turmoil over it, and in prayer she wept and wept for the one no one else would shed tears for. he had been an evil man, yes, but did that give her the right to end him? she understood she was a Goddess, but a mortal coil twisted around her beating heart. it grew barbs and thorns. 
it was past time to end her isolation—to return to duties, to become better than she had been. but as she looked upon the broken Khusobek, anger again stirred within her. how? how? look what they had done to him—and still they had the boy, 
she walked toward the limp man. still he breathed. for all the teeth that had come against him, he held on. how tightly? even above herself, she prayed for him. Khusobek, she whispered, can you hear me? how far away was he? could he return?

muat-riya's crocodile lay in silent repose. 

broad chest rose and fell with even breaths. he had been sedated for weeks now, cleansed, washed, combed. but some goodly portion of his muscled body had wasted away. his left ear was gone, ripped almost cleanly off.

but he lay on his right side for the worst of the wounds: skinned from skull-base to beyond his shoulders, the flesh was a large pink sea of slow-mending scar-tissue, a macabre cowl if he awoke.

over him, pharaoh whispered. 

listening gods shook their heads in gentle murmuring among one another. she did not know, she still did not know.

but of course she did not know! how could she? stories buried, names stricken from stelae and memory. not even the man who lay silent had ever been given these things to understand.

blood, royal. golden. bluest. it ran in khusobek as it had run in ramesses, for seti was a man with many tastes. one divine wife in tuya. seven more political marriages. innumerable concubines, servant girls, slaves.

to young amunet had been born khusobek, and because she had come from a family of memphis nobility, her name was well-known — which gave her crocodilisk boy claim to seti's throne. it was not so great a grasp as to be far within his reach, but more than enough to threaten Great Royal Wife tuya.

amunet was killed and her body buried far in the desert, beyond recovery. khusobek was delivered into the hands of palace guards. a waif, his bearer had said, left behind at the doors of the palace. lastly, the pharaoh seti had been informed that mother and child succumbed to an unfortunate fever. if he had ever suspected his queen, he said nothing.

when hatshepsuun struck down the coup of her brother ramesses to take seti's throne, she had retained khusobek with no knowing of his origins.

now this forgotten prince, this lesser brother; he lay with blood shared betwixt he and toula, the only current threat to rashepses' own lineage. how sweet the irony; how bitter its unknowing.

in his slumber, the captain groaned aloud.

cameo unless addressed! <3

curled against the far wall on a spotless bed of pelts was tavina. her back to the door, she found that pharaoh's perfume announced the divine girl before she entered the room.

steadying her breathing to appear asleep, the sesh shut her eyes. roundabout was evidence of her long work, and she felt it would not be like toula to wake her.

but the purple gaze stared unseeing at the stone, remembering the black fury upon the face of their semer-wati as he swept down from his post to mete out a terrible pain.

and it was not the bruising beneath her eye which commanded such anguish.

she looked over the great work of the Sesh. she could smell no sickness, see no infection. she notes, then, the sleeping woman—Toula pauses only to grab a fur and pull them around her tutor to ensure her comfort, her warmth. Toula trusted she was asleep, and had no reason to linger near her—especially when Khusobek made a sound…
Pharaoh was quickly to his side. was that an affirmation? his breathing pattern looked the same, as did all else… she moved to gather some water to bring to his mouth through moss, and would press it gently there in offering. it would dribble slowly, slowly—her eyes remained upon the patient, now. 
her eyes watered. she remembered that it was not Akashingo that had done this, begun this. but that there might be another lain out this way by the hands of their enemy. it seemed an inevitable thing. if they did nothing, they would surely return to press. but should they do something—
what would her father do?

wake! sang the voices.

khusobek fell through himself in a void.

his mouth opened birdlike for the cool water; he was not himself and yet in some subtle movements his commanding spirit showed its glow to pharaoh.

into more peace he relaxed, a deeper sleep. paws twitched as he fought the inner darkness. but the captain did not wake.