for Sapair / Merneith , whichever you're more in the mood for :) sorry this isn't very good im bad at starters

---

y'var'la had never considered herself the type to get homesick, but they were guests here. though she could make a stranger's place her playground at court, this was no sussex.

the sun had dipped low, bleeding gold through the bristling grass as evening settled over the hollow. today had been quiet—blissfully so, considering the circumstances.

slipping down onto her haunches, she rolled a sore shoulder and drifted her attention drifted over the half-seen shapes of others posted nearby. guards, she had hoped. caution looked better than bravado on any kingdom.

---

it’s wonderful :D

Every morning Sapair sent out a patrol, but they returned each evening without having discovered any signs of distress or discordant armies from outlying kingdoms. Satriya had found her rhythm; a blessing to the king’s jodai.
But there were times when his own mind thumbed the memories in old Nubia. He should yearn for his sons. Instead, it was for the march and the great desert where his regiments had straddled an offshoot of the river nile. Where war bore down at all four corners.
In vital work, his mind honed.
In restlessness, it wandered out with sundown eyes to trail along the fine-boned shoulder favored in a stretch.

y'var'la felt his stare before she turned to meet it. dusk painted an already figure bronze figure in hues of lavender, taller than herself with double the muscle. she shifted only enough to stretch one limb forward, claws digging into the packed earth, and eased out just as fast.

she cast her eyes to him as she came out of it, ears tipping his way with a blithe expression. more than three seconds is often considered staring, you know, the words came without turning her head, steady and unruffled. a jest.

“It’s been much longer than that,” he didn’t smile, didn’t even twitch the dark corners of a mouth gone weary from such efforts. He gazed on still.
“But not long enough to figure deception from good company.” Jodai breathed through his teeth, eyes rounding now where they please. Over shoulders and hips, up over nape and where a flush of darkness met the cusp of her fine nose.
“You’ve been quick to earn Pharaoh’s trust, Y’var’la.”

her ear flicked, the smallest movement, more acknowledgment than reply. the man leers without fanfare, blaze-orange irises clinging to her figure. if he sought her discomfort, he'd wouldn't find any. shameless, then, she remarked. i’d almost think you were suspicious, jodai.

a small shift of weight, a flick of her tail through the dust. the pharaoh values utility, she went on, quieter. i’m good at being useful. the stretch of her mouth hinted at something that wasn’t quite a smile, brief and perhaps too knowing. do you question my intentions, sapair?

“Should I?” His eyes blinked slow, returning to their fixture of her face. A far-off laugh channeled between them, the kingdom’s convivial prattle over supper.
“Tell me of your experiences at court.” His was the voice of an overseer, making sturdy the young hawk's throne of Satriya. Testing Y’var’la’s own place as chancellor and advisor to Khaemwaset's fledgling kingdom.

y’var’la’s ears tipped, a subtle acknowledgment that she heard the test beneath the question.

decidedly, she indulges his question. court life teaches you quickly, she began, voice even, almost conversational. everyone smiles, but few mean it—then there are ones who never smile at all. her eyes flicked to him then, a quiet, assessing glance. intentions are currency. you learn to read them or you will die pretending they aren’t there.

she drew a slow breath, gaze drifting toward satriya’s camp. i've brokered alliances. settled disputes. kept tempers from ruining treaties. a slight pause. and when necessary, i uncovered truths others preferred stayed buried. it is not listed to be boastful, only repeating the list of tools she’d learned to use.

He found she spoke in circles not uncommon of the courtly kind, but his soldier’s mind demanded directness and he indicated so with a grunt.
“Speak now of your intent,” jodai gruffed, eyes hard. “Do you enjoy these court games? Or is it the wealth you chase? Status. Luxuries. A mate and a heavy womb.”
She was young, and a young woman must want for many things.

y'var'la let out a soft, incredulous breath, a laugh. you make me sound like a thief in your granaries. her tail flicked once, a lazy sweep of amused disbelief. if i wanted wealth, i’d have stayed where the gold was already piled high, nor would i be sleeping under open sky with sand in my fur.

her gaze sharpened then, cool and clear. i want security. for myself, for those i stand beside. status is a tool, not a hunger. power keeps danger at arm’s length. a beat. that’s all.

as for the rest—his last line earned a slower blink, a faint curl of her lip that wasn’t quite a smile. i don’t much take to men, she says, but one is welcome to try, her eyes slide over him, brief but pointed. i’ve never been ungrateful to a generous partner. it is not so much of an offer as it is curious thought, a fact. she does not take him for the sort to find love in nobles.

“Everyone’s a thief in my granaries until proven otherwise.” His eyes burned cold and long while the woman huffed her offense. He would not taunt a desire for safety. Beyond battle and the bloodied clash of teeth in Pharaoh’s service, maintaining safety was a mazoi’s purpose.
But Y’var’la’s words are their own tease, and a firelit gaze tracked the line of her shoulders down to the slender length in her legs once more.
“Perhaps you take better to women.” His mouth bends. Jodai’s eyes reveal want.