“You worry too much!” He declared as Zein said he was going to get something to clean his wound with. Zein was boring sometimes, the man needed to learn how to let go of things and just live! What fun was life if you were too busy worrying about things like cleaning wounds right away? Azarion would make him have fun today at this festival, whether he liked it or not. It was supposed to be fun, right? What was the point if things weren’t fun?

Azarion sat himself at the table, grinning at Kesi as she did the same. The woman looked absolutely depressed, but he didn’t feel bad. Kesi’s moods swung quicker than anything else, and he was sure that soon enough she would be feeling something else. He was just used to dealing with her being all over the place. It was who she was.

And just like that, she looked pissed, and was stating that Zein was her new best friend, and the large man let out a laugh. This wasn’t the first time she had declared they were no longer friends. She always came back around and the two of them were back to... well what ever their friendship was. His relationship with Kesi was like none of his other relationships. She was wild, and he loved the changes. It kept things interesting when she was unpredictable.

He let Zein tend to his stab wound, his focus on the woman who sat across from him.

A woman brought their drinks, and still his gaze remained on Kesi, the grin still on his face.

“Are you really so offended by a prank? I hope you are. It means I got you good.” He stated, not sorry at all about scaring her. It had been funny, and he hoped that where ever Nem was, he had seen the whole thing and had thought it was just as funny as Azarion did.

He would tell his leader the tale later when the two of them had a moment to themselves, certain that Nem would want to hear the whole thing from Azarion’s perspective.

He picked up the drink that had been placed in front of him, downing it all in one go as Zein tended to his wound.

“Come on Zein, enough fussing with the wound, get to drinking!” He declared. Now that his duty to Nem had been done, he wanted to get drunk, and with the amount of naked people parading around that day, he wanted to indulge himself in some other whims.

Azarion was not exactly known for keeping himself from being hedonistic. What ever he wanted, he tended to take. His only consideration was the safety of his circus family, and making sure he didn’t so anything to upset Nem. Other than that, he had not a care in the world.

He touched lightly at the bruises on her neck as she mentioned them, the memory not forgotten by the heir, nor was the suspicion that had caused such actions. Ana was lucky that all she had come out of that encounter with was some slight bruises, though he would not say such things. He was no longer angry as he had been that day, but to say his feelings for her had returned to normal would be false. His suspicions would likely be called paranoid if he had told anyone of them, but nonetheless she had sealed her fate and Hena had set a slave to follow her in the shadows and observe.

“Hardly noticeable, no man other than myself should be close enough to see.” He stated simply, hand dropping from where he had gently touched the bruises. Then she was settling with her back against him, and he let her without protest, going back to the wine that filled his cup, taking another drink. They were here after all to drink until they couldn’t any more and then allow the Nile to wash everything away.

He didn’t miss her gaze in the direction of the offending woman, Chione in the distance with some man, clearly enjoying the festivities. He made no comment nor did he tense and giveaway the fact that he had seen her gaze turn that way. She must not think he suspected anything if he was going to prove that there was indeed something to suspect her of. If such things were true, she would truly face his anger then.

“More wine?” He offered, holding his own cup for her to drink from, a gentle smile on his face, no sign of the danger that lurked below the visage of unassuming heir.

The two would sit there and drink, and enjoy their evening as Hena had intended, and if Ana slipped up and his slave told him of such things, he would deal with that in the moment.

Despite his suspicions and intended consequences if he was right, he still loved the Greek woman who now sat here in his arms.

Seemingly out of no where he placed a kiss on her cheek before whispering to her.

“As long as the Gods allow us both to draw breath, my heart is yours.” Akhenaten spoke, ensuring only she would hear his words, words that he truly meant. He did his best to allow his suspicions and ill feelings to fall to the wayside so he could enjoy the day with her, as they used to before the run in at the tavern.

The brightness of the sun was deflected by eyes rimmed with kohl and set with disappointment. The way she flitted around her husband was intentional, as if she wished to condense the heat around them and inject it into his veins. There was a desire to hurt, whether sloppily or calculated, but all the more demure and ladylike for the setting. Onuphrious was right. There was no need to cause a scene. The Queen presided alone over the event, a woman coming into her own, Iaheru could respect the young woman, even if there was a deep pity for her condition.

It must hurt, Iaheru thought to herself as they tiptoed to the shoreline, sandals moistening in the mud. To be that thin and delicate with child. Iaheru wasn't sure how she had succeeded in that life, though she was never as thin and delicate as the Queen, or her own daughters for that matter. If she had been, no one would have seen evidence of it under her concealed presentation. Pregnancy suited the Queen, as it did all women. The glow of life Hathor painted on the pinnacle of the woman's cheeks a testament to the health of Egypt itself.

"Oh, they don't." Iaheru slightly flicked her foot in the water. The sun made white patches in the contours of the river. "I thought I'd get lucky, maybe a crocodile will swallow me whole. Perhaps an asp will bite our ankles and we can die in each other's arms..."

"Wouldn't that be a tale for the ages?" She looks up at her husband, wondering if it was the wine fueling the conversation or her own proclivity for tragedy. "You, me, and the poison we share."

All the while, the real reason she was here, her daughters, dismissed by her grip on Onuphrious. It was as it always had been, the two lovers, now estranged, engulfed in one another's attentions to pay mind to their children in desperate need. Two narcissists obssessed with image giving way to each other's preening.

Iaheru intended in her heart of hearts to live as she always had, beyond reproach and above respect. Her musings of death were only trivial, provoking if she could scheme in the heat and her mild intoxication. She was less concerned with death as she was with legacy, foresight her husband fretted over at night as well. Never was their legacy at greater risk of unraveling.

She was never one to publicly indulge in her vices. Even in private, her life was marked by a great restraint, a taut band that recently snapped in her great public humiliation. Once, she considering this modesty a strength. After all, doe eyes and concealed hair baited secrets to curl around her ears like a golden cuff, the wine soaked tongue of strangers finding refuge in the restrained woman. Sober women seldom shared tales. There were many a celebrations where she held back the wigs of the less fortunate to cleanly wretch into vacant (and sometimes, occupied) gardens. She would dab away regretful tears of high ladies in their lowest points with her symbol of dignity, the edges of fine headscarves numerously stained by tear stokes of kohl.

As she walked beside Onuphrious, she leans into her mild intoxication, her body braced against his. For but a moment, she felt whole, like the wound he ripped in the center of her chest had been stitches together and sealed with honey. An apothecary's handiwork and herbs stitching her together in a way that rectified the brutal way she was tore apart by the two men that touched her life.

"Yes, our legacy will be greater."

The lie felt good on her lips, greeted by his in his stark admission and tender kiss that followed. His careful words always had a way with her, twirling in her mind and sending a warmth throughout her core. She couldn't help but break the kiss with a smile, a giggle ripping through her chest. Her youth revitalized, as if she was a girl in court again hoping to catch his gaze. Iaheru offered him a flirty wink in the present, her lips remaining pursed as she continued with him deeper into the water.

The ripples of the Nile rested below her breasts, her body leaning closer to Onuphrious' own as she was submerged further. Edges of her white headwrap frayed in the water like lily pad roots. Do you have anything, Iaheru?


She knew him long enough to know what he desired, and the numbness invited her into its fold. Oh, that would be sublime.

Her lips curled into a wicked grin and she holds both of his elbows, pulling him closer with caution to his staggered gait, her idea infecting her with child-like glee.

"I don't have anything, Onuphrious." Her gaze shifts to the servants tending to Akhenaten and Anastasia. Retainers of all ilk were circling the festivities. She spotted one of Neithotep's favored, and she delicately pointed the woman out to Onuphrious. "But I'm sure Neithotep does. It's about time our children did something for us."

Iaheru rose from the water, white cloth shellacked to her body like a Grecian statue. If the sun shone the correct way, the whiteness of her gown hinted at transparency. Hailing the retainer when the water rose to her knees, Iaheru glanced back to her husband giddily as the confused servant was forced to hike up skirts and deliver a small, silk pouch of substance into the Sirdsett's outstretched hands. Oh! The privileges of being Sirdsett. Neithotep would certainly seethe and rant whenever she emerged.

She skipped back into the water, joining her husband where she had left him, dangling her prize at nose level. "And what of my shameful dalliances, Sirdar?" She rested her other hand on the back of his neck, warm from the sun's relentless beams. A moment of intimacy passing between them as their eyes locked. Iaheru blushes, taking a step back as she realized what she had done... What she was doing.

Fiddling inside the pouch, three vials fall into a smoothed palm. Oh, she thought, a party pack. Delightful.

She extended her bounty to Onuphrious, taking two into her possession and tucking the extra into the folds of her headwrap. "You go first," she pressured, hands shaky with nerves at the sheer absurdity and betrayal of character.

The words breathed into her ear twirled around her mind, pollen lost to the wind as her fingers rolled over the phial in her palm. Condensation collected in a delicate sheen.

Just tell me, my dear, that you still love me.

Of course she did. How could she not after all these years? Her lips part to answer as his short, cropped hair, dipped beneath the water. A creature just out of her grasp. A apparition in his absence, existing in parsed words and allusions, no one quite comfortable to address his... abandonment. Yes. Abandonment.

Her neck tilted her head upwards, her eyes tracing the clouds as she screwed the tiny cork off between thumb and forefinger, the particle floating away on the ripples of the water. Further and further...

The opium numbed her throat, such a small amount nestling in the pit of her belly and invigorating her muscles before allowing them to slack. Her colossus rose from the water, formidable and masculine, and, once again, she found herself braced against his skin, her body leaning into his as the opium dulled the day beautifully. Her children's vices erased, her heart reveling before he inevitably pulled away...

Their image had to be rectified, and Onuphrious was a man of goals above all else, what compelled him to stay by her in the water? What compelled the words that emanated from his lips that Iaheru couldn't quite place? Do you still love me? Do you love me? Forgotten... Love. Just tell me.

Her fingernails left light imprints on his chest as the strength of the high washed over her. She felt the distinct pang to submerge herself in the water, to remove the wraps that confined her, to feel the sun on her skin as she felt the sun in her body...

"I'll always," she whispered as a hand extended to his hair, combing through the curls as her eyes close. That would be a sufficient enough answer because she meant it. How could I not? Rang in her head like bells. Had opium been the answer all along? That their nature needed dulling, erosion to a battered shore...

"D-ddd-oooo," she stuttered like the wily daughter prancing among friends and allies alike. This opium was quite strong, but Iaheru managed if she concentrated. A breathy laugh passes her lips. "Do you fee-eeel this?" She slurred, quite contented, a childish pang gripping to him, scared he'd leave.

And with very little control over her impulses, she expressed as much. "Stttaaay. St-tayyy ne-near me. B-b-by my side." Her head finds the crook of his chest, pressing her ear to it momentarily. Her place. It fit so perfectly after all this time.

Kahi might not have felt that she knew herself, but Khufu felt fairly confident he knew who his wife was as a person, at least for the moment. She was like some magical being, ever changing, evolving into someone stronger than she had been before. He had watched her grow from the oppressed young woman in Judea to the confident young woman she was right now.

Khufu was caught off guard as Kahi jumped and wrapped her legs around him, but he laughed while making sure that they didn’t both fall over when suddenly he was supporting her weight as well as hers. This was definitely a lot more bold than she usually was in public, but he didn’t mind. Even if he wasn’t drunk, he wouldn’t have minded. He had never been overly conservative, in his opinion there was nothing wrong with a husband and wife showing affection in public.

Definitely not during this festival.

“Come my love, your beauty will bless the very river itself.” He said with a grin as he wrapped his arms carefully around his wife to make sure she would not fall off of him. Everyone and everything else around them had been forgotten, in the moment there was only them, the river, and the God that they were honouring that day.

He walked forward with her, his eyes focused only on her face, mentally noting just how absolutely beautiful she was. He had thought so the moment he had first laid eyes on her, and the more years they spent together, the more he thought she was the most gorgeous woman that had ever been made by the Gods.

He carried her into the water, wading in until they were deep enough.

“Hold your breath.” He said with a grin, and he took a deep breath himself, holding it as he fell backwards into the water, taking her with him.

He let go of her a bit in the water, not holding her too tight in case she wanted to swim up. It didn’t take him long to surface himself, letting the air out that he had been holding. He moved one hand up to push his wet hair out of his face. The water was a bit sobering, though he was still rather drunk, he could think at least a little clearer.

“Now, we remove our clothes, and we remain in the waters, and we let the river bring us healing and fertility.” He said with a little grin. They hadn’t had any troubles with fertility in their marriage, their children made that obvious.

After that, he moved to remove his own clothing, waiting for her to remove hers as well. She hadn’t had a problem with the differences between acceptable nudity from her homeland to his upon moving there. She had almost seemed happy to be able to show off her body, despite already having secured a husband before even being allowed to do such things.