Henna

 “Our Iset,
Our noses are towards earth,
Our ears towards heaven,
You have your magic,
You have powers of the goddess,
And amulets carry your protection, great one,
Guarding the wearer’s heart.
May those who grieve,
As once you grieved Osiris,
Restore breath to their loved ones,
As our Mother revived her beloved God.”


 The girl sings over a small stone of red-jasper and adheres it with acacia sap upon a thin twine of raffia. It is the first amulet, and intended for Aiesha. She brings every wearer into mind as she crafts, instilling her own blessing along with Iset’s power into the stones. But she cannot quell the ease in which Charmion surfaces there—

 And then she is daydreaming! Not only of her loyal fellahin, but imagining what it is like to kiss someone. Her heart beats out wildly fast and she wonders if anyone passing might even hear it!

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 her voice was a hymn which drew leonine step in that direction. his sister bent over materials, singing to the goddess as she fashioned together something he could not quite see.
 but his mind was not upon sacred baubles. her fate had been revealed, and khaemwaset wondered if she had heard. if she knew.
 the prince had no words to speak. he remained at her side, casting an ebonwood shadow over what he was able to now glimpse; an amulet.
 the dreariness in his heart ate at him, and he turned his eyes over the ceaseless sand.

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 “Khaem!” She burns! A paw flutters nervously against her neck. Can he see it written all over her? She could not meet his face squarely, much less speak the words of girlish imaginings! Still, that all this was kept secret from him was maddening! Unnatural!

 “It’s too hot this afternoon, let’s go find shade.” She tries to hide from his face at first, gathering all her supplies into a leafy sling she’d borrowed from Miss T. But she could not long withhold from him, and soon the princess was looking for her brother’s gilt gaze. His unhappiness comes grimly into focus.

 “What makes you frown like that?” Neith ducks her face beneath his, so he might delve into her eyes instead of his feet. She gathers an arm around his and feels the thrum of his blood against her chest.

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 he allowed himself to be led away, to be embraced; such was the angst in his heart that for once he scarcely noticed the girlish glowing of her exquisite face.
 "i spoke with father. we had a meeting in the old land with a cousin of ours, the pharaoh samirseti" his shoulders were perhaps squared more than a boy of his age should feel; "father said he would marry to make children, and that he would not marry from our family because of this."
 his palm cupped the amulet; khaemwaset stared at its delicate fineness. "i went to father again, to ensure you will not be married to someone outside akashingo." who dictated such things? and where was pharaoh's word in all this. "he said you are to marry den one day, and i will marry satakhetem."
 he held her gently, eyes closed. "i was happy only to know you will be staying among us, sister."

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 Oh—

 Oh—

 Her thoughts whirl. She knows not what to think. Khaem’s breath plays in her fur and she feels it tickling like small kisses.

 Of course she anticipated that she would marry one of her brothers, their parents had prepared them since infancy to emulate the marriage of Iset to Osiris. So why did Neith feel herself wanting to cry for no reason at all?

 “We— we’ll still be together. Right? You and I?” They had made this promise to one another, in the gardens at the red mesa. Merneith did not think she could tolerate this new life if Khaem was not beside her.

 But he would have Satakh. Merneith aches so badly with jealousy that it’s all over her, and only one thought pulses stronger:

 I don’t want to marry Den.

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 their thoughts aligned in this moment more than perhaps either of them knew. khaemwaset was miserable at the idea of eventually losing merneith to her preordained fate. he remembered the passion of father's voice, the explanation of those weights which his son now carried.
 father had said he would be pharaoh.
 did not pharaoh deem what he wished? have what he wanted?
 his golden eyes were resolute upon her; khaemwaset studied her face, saw that neith too would surrender, and hated this. "i will be with you always. nothing could take me away."
 their hands laced together as a new reality unfolded, one in which their warmth would not be so, and anger rose virulent inside the prince. "i told him it was not what i wanted."
  khaemwaset had said far more than that.

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 Like one heart shared between them Neith can feel the strum of Khaem’s anger. Her first impulse is to bring her arms around him and lavish a thousand kisses on his face until he can do nothing else but explode with laughter! He’d go back to being assured and she a sunny optimist who’d never had a sullen day. But the princess is wise enough to know it couldn’t be the same between them. She did not know how to explain that she would not love Den as she did Khaem. It was just him, always.

 Although he was still there in front of Neith, wrapped in her arms, she knew he would grow strange from her, as mother and father did when they left and went away. Khaem’s was the only love in her life that hadn’t ever once turned from her. The idea that she would lose it scared her.

 Tears! Tears again threaten to push out past garnet eyes and the princess must blink rapidly to drive them away as she looks into her brother’s face.

 “What do you want, Khaem?”

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 her tears sparkled violently inside khaemwaset's own heart like shards of crystal. "you, neith. it is you i want."
 the words were exhilarating to say; he was sickened by their adrenaline which shot through him as if it were a spear. but their genuine pleasantry warmed him, and he held her for a moment, to steady himself upon the lintel of her always love.
 was it so for her? his heart spoke in yes, a praise of song to rival his sister's own voice.
 "but father says i must change Ma'at to be pharaoh. he says den will be Crown Prince until i do this. but it has been done before. i am to be an emissary soon, neith."
 khaemwaset studied her face. "it is my chance to stand alone before the gods and ask them for what my heart needs to be whole."

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 Beneath his eyes Neith plants a kiss each upon the gilt lines, then pauses to consider the handsome face. And simply, she cannot decide what she loves most about her brother, but in this moment it is the way he makes her feel, like her heart is racing over the sands towards a miracle. She desires an eternity of now.

 “Oh Khaem— I want to be at your side forever. I will make a good Queen to you, I promise I can,” her voice is warm with affection while his own carries the power of Pharaoh. She feels an answering flush cross her skin.

 “An emissary… you are leaving?” Her eyes meet his. In so many ways her brother was grown, but he was a boy still! “I will speak with mother. I will pray to Iset that we might be married.” Married!

 They are gods at the dawning of the world and Neith’s hope is so bright she can see nothing apart from her Pharaoh’s glistening night.

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 married! had his heart ever felt as if it were a flute before? a high and soaring thing, Horus Himself spreading majestic golden wings upon the torrent of his heartstruck glide. "pray to Iset, snt. — my sister i will make a sacrifice at each altar to ensure i return."
 let Ma'at change for me!
 her forehead brushed now by the shyness of his own kiss, reflective gold shimmering in trueborn pools of vulnerability. only she drew these things from him, and he saw them now; crowned in aurae and aplomb, sitting upon new thrones in this Land of Reeds to rule eternal.
 now he stepped away from her, reluctance limning his movement; "the sooner i go, the sooner i am able to come back. i must see the high priest and then i will choose my retinue. be well. be well; i will see you before i leave."
 impulsively he seized soft neith's paw; he brought his reverent bow to her crooked wrist before he turned to leave her there, a strong-backed young deity on stride to destined gold.

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 She offers her head beneath Khaem’s kiss, surrendering to the only love in her life that allowed her to have a firm grip on happiness, despite everything that could ruin what had cultivated between them.

 What if mother and father forbade it? What about Satakh and Den? What if the Gods’ were silent, or otherwise did not deign to answer?

 “However great your love for me, I return it to you one hundredfold,” she smiles, reaching to press her lips into his own crown as he bows. So enthralled by his pharaonic grace is Neith that she lingers a moment longer to watch his retreat over the sands.

 A fel wind passes over girl, whispering circles around her lone figure like sardonic laughter and she shivers in superstitious awe. It is dangerous to pique the gods with demands— briefly, Merneith wonders if she and her brother ask for the impossible.

 But one thing was certain: nothing felt more natural than her love for Khaem.

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