slowly did khaemwaset relax until at last he had become the shining paragon of grace which birth had bestowed upon him. it surprised Horus to know that there was a sort of dissent behind the closed ranks of jakten, and he nodded once but did not answer.
this question asked by setemhotep rode pharaoh's mind, and he turned over and over the ancient weight of histories and names to which he could not place faces, only names.
or namelessness.
at last a sigh issued gustily from pharaoh's chest. no, he said at last. i do not believe it. and i do not want it. but then i think, setemhotep, khaemwaset went on, searching for the sky through the wound branches, that if i were to die tomorrow, that satriya should wake without a pharaoh, there is no way to save my sister.
the modulated voice of a god went on, but his eyes had become wet.
if something should befall me, she must maintain control. as pharaoh all heads here would bow at her feet, but she would be relegated to choosing inferior consorts. if she remained as Wife to the Gods, she must marry and legitimize one as pharaoh. in times past this has been -- generals. priests. viziers. loyal egyptians, but common by comparison. i can see no way to avoid insult to her royal blood.
allow a servant to sit upon the throne, or worse, a foreign prince. allow lesser men to fill the harem, to give merneith a chance for half-divine children. if i were to ensure that this line goes on, there is a chance to keep our mighty succession from its first breaking in many years.
but if i do this, i risk her heart, setemhotep, and mine as well.