At Khaemwaset's no, a bit of tension Hotep had not realized he held loosened.

He thought of all the many and more things he could say, to encourage, to challenge, to critique. Questions he might ask. Holy words he might recite. It took some time, but Hotep nodded in careful consideration to show Pharaoh's words did not go unheard. Indeed, they were weighed with great respect.

And horror.

For at a point did all anxiety returned tenfold, and Hotep shook. Only faintly, but in a way beyond his control.

You are the living Horus, the mighty bull who is tall of plumes... He recited, fighting to lock a piece of himself away that was not fit for the eyes of his god-king, and grateful for the many years of practice in obeisance and advisement to steady his voice, Your belief is a powerful thing. If you were to die, we would bury you in a tomb of magnificence. We would fashion a ka for your ba to receive offerings from. You would travel West in the form of Osiris, and from there, you could still protect our Queen with all the ferocity of your godly stature. And that is only if a thing here could kill you, my lord. The space between realms is thin. There have been dreams, signs, voices on the wind. Phoenix Rising hears the words of Khentyamentiu as if he stood beside her. And have you not passed through Duat already?

In this regard, Khaemwaset had more power than most.

Queen stands by your side, her shoulder next to yours as you give offerings and pass decrees. It may be wise to include her also in such planning, for it is her future that would be dictated. The heart is a sacred thing, Pharaoh, to risk either of yours upon an uncertain altar in her absence is... treacherous. And there the measure of Hotep's voice fractured.

He looked away, mortified by the weakness of his body after so many months spent in recovery. But it was not a weakness of the body, not really. I learned, in my life before, the tale of a Pharaoh who was very mighty. Strong and fierce and hot-blooded, as the heir-Horus should be. He, too, felt burdened by weight of all expectation, and — he had in his heart great love for another. A sour recitation, yet like an oozing wound, Hotep could not stop it. He wondered in anxious sudden bitterness if this was why he had been saved by the gods. A story only he could tell. But the demands of godhood were greater. So in rashness, he upended Heaven, and laid its fractured pieces at their feet.

Hotep swallowed, and his jaw clenched so tightly he wondered the teeth did not fracture, The one he sought took great offense to this, would never have desired it, and all affection or certainty turned to red sand. In this, Great Pharaoh, you are blessed that your love and your duty may align. Do not shatter one against the other.