Shall We Play A Game 008

Sidon was a fine city, as far as Egyptian cities went. It helped that it was more Kinahhu than it was Kemeti, as it were, having only been conquered a generation ago, but to Mattizawa of the Mitanni it was still an Egyptian city. It wasn’t home, in Wasuhanni, nor was it even the rather tolerable lands of the Hatti.

But it was as close as he could get in his time of exile, and though he loved the daughter of his sister deeply -and he did love her, Shai reminded him greatly of his beloved sister, and was as smart and fiery as she was diplomatic and wise- he could not spend all of his time safely tucked away in the noble quarter of Memphis nor the estate in Amarna he had lived in since his house had lost the throne of the Mitanni Empire to the brilliance of Kail Mursili, the treachery of it’s soldiers and citizens, and -more importantly of all- the clever loyalty and stalwart heart of Yuri Ishtar.

Ah, Yuri. Now there had been a woman fit for a king! A fighter, a wildcat, in public and private alike, and smart. Smarter than nearly any woman he had ever known -again, only his sister could compare. Perhaps that was why he had liked the girl so much, the similarities to his beloved Tatukia-, she had managed to manipulate his own people into supporting her as if she was a royal of their own kingdom. What’s worse, she had been entirely genuine in her efforts! Not a single deed nor action of hers had been a cold-hearted or cynical ploy, not from the very first. Oh, they had had an effect beyond kindness, of course. Her boon for killing the lion he had meant to execute her with had been for him to treat his prisoners of war well, neatly winning the favor of his people and making irrelevant his plans to have her slaughtered on the road back to Hattusa.

“My Love, I saw something a moment ago in an Ahhiyawan stall. May I go and take a look?” his concubine, Nadia of Babylon, asked excitedly from beside him, beaming in delight when he gave an indulgent wave of permission. He watched her go, followed discretely by a pair of their guards, and shook his head. She had been another example of Yuri Ishtar’s kindness and cleverness, not only convincing him to spare his now-lover’s life, but to truly come to love her and flee with her to the safety of Egypt. A great kindness on the Hittite princesses’ part, given Nadia’s plot -at the behest of her sister Nakia- would have seen Yuri dying quickly and painfully on the tip of his blade.

He frowned thoughtfully to himself as he cast his thoughts back to the letter he had received from the uncle of his niece, Ankhenadin. A poisonous man, who Mattizawa had immediately recognized as a jealous schemer from the outset, and one with designs on power beyond his rightful grasp and ability, but one who he had to admit did have Egypt’s best interests at heart.

Perhaps his view of what those best interests were and how best to accomplish them were…skewed and at best outlandish, but his patriotic fervor could hardly be doubted. As such, Mattizawa was fully prepared to believe that the man was deeply concerned by Shai’s apparent favouring of a Hittite prince for her suitor. And not just any prince, but Hasamelli himself. ‘The Anvil of Hattusa’, his soldiers had called the man during the short-lived war waged between their kingdoms. As poetic a title as his own, but a far kinder and more polite one than ‘The Bloody Prince of Darkness’.

As far as Ankhenadin was concerned, Hasamelli was the greatest existential threat that Egypt had ever faced, bound and determined to seduce away their mutual niece and ruin her kingdom for the sake of his own while defiling her body with all manners of wickedness. ‘The Doom of Egypt’, the man had nonverbally thundered through the message, who must be stopped at all costs. He had fallen out of favour with their Queen, he claimed, and pleaded for Mattizawa to come to Memphis and remind her of the evil to be found in the hearts of Suppiluliumas’ house.

Yet while Mattizawa had, indeed, immediately set out from Byblos -where he had been advising the commanders of the northern garrisons on Hittite tactics- for the capital, he was rather less sure of what he would do when he got there. It was, of course, entirely possible that his fellow uncle’s concerns were well founded. It would hardly be the only time a foreign spouse tried to tear down their new home in support of their old, though he knew quite well it wasn’t nearly as common as the bards and playwrights would claim, but he had met Hasamelli in both the field of battle and off of it. Had spoken with the man, face to face, and taken his measure.

Hasamelli Kutruwah was not the sort of man to do such a thing. The man very well could seek to seduce his niece, to win her heart. Mattizawa had no doubt of that, and he didn’t doubt that the man had goals outside of simply finding his niece beautiful or the like. That much was obvious and expected, but the point was that Hasamelli was not interested in tearing Egypt down to raise the Hittites up. No, whether it was loyalty to his bride and her nation itself, or his desire to ensure he can be a powerful pillar of support to Mursili, the red-haired Hittite prince would ensure that Egypt remained mighty.

Not that any of that meant he wasn’t going to reintroduce himself to the man and get to know him better before advising his beloved sister’s daughter what course of action she should take, and try to put the fear of the gods into the man while he was at it. The male kin of a prospective bride had obligations, after all, and Shai had neither the parents nor the brothers to do it, so the right and duty fell to him. Besides, it would be nice to see Yuri Ishtar again, and see what she was like when she wasn’t plotting to escape his seraglio, capturing his cities, killing his soldiers, or otherwise rearranging life and the natural order of things as he knew it.

“Mattizawa.” Nadia’s voice broke him from his thoughts, and he frowned as her turned his attention to her. She rarely ever called him by his birth name, preferring more affectionate epithets, and she never sounded so serious. Not that she was a brainless bed-warmer, of course, but she wasn’t exactly the sternest of individuals either. The look on her face and the way the guards that had accompanied her were looking around had him dropping a hand to his sword and loosening it in it’s sheath. Before he could say a word and ask what had happened, she continued. “Mattizawa, we have to get to Memphis as soon as we can. Urhi Shalma is here, I saw him in a caravan passing through the market. A caravan heading to the capital.”

“Urhi? The priest? Your sister’s favored servant?” the deposed crown prince of Mitanni frowned, vaguely remembering a handful of references to the man, and she nodded a bit shakily. His eyes narrowed and he looked around, eyes searching the faces around them as he dredged up his memories. “The priest that plotted with you to ensure Yuri Ishtar’s death, on behalf of your sister. Who is now, you say, on a caravan heading towards Memphis, where Yuri Ishtar and her hand-maidens are in company to Kail Mursili’s closest brother and my niece?”

“Yes, my prince. I fear that he means to strike at the Hittite royals again, on my sister’s behalf. We have to warn them. The caravan will reach Memphis in some two months, I heard a shop-keep say, but if he procures horses of his own…” Nakia confirmed, and Mattizawa swore softly under his breath, looking to one of his guards.

“To the docks, immediately. Find a fast ship and a skilled captain. We must take to the sea and outrun him.” he ordered, and the man bowed and rushed to obey. Beckoning the rest to follow, he followed at a more sedate, though still swift, pace. “Did he spot you, Nadia?”

“I don’t believe so, my prince, I was amongst a crowd and he wasn’t looking directly at me. But I fear for your niece and for Egypt if he succeeds in his plans.” she shook her head, looking very much like she wanted to wring her hands, and he grunted in agreement.

Unlike Hasamelli, Nakia was more than willing to destroy everything and anyone that got in the way of her goals, her plots and plans. That was dangerous enough as it was, but Urhi Shalma was as devious and brilliantly cunning as he was monstrous. So long as he carried out his queen’s will, he didn’t care what happened to anyone in his way, and he would use and discard any possible tool in the effort. The threat by proxy to his niece was not an insignificant one, and he wasn’t stupid enough not to grasp what would happen if it seemed to the Hittite Royal Family that Hasamelli and Yuri Ishtar were slaughtered in the heart of the Imperial Capital by Egyptians.

Mattizawa would not allow the same sword that had fallen on his own nation to fall on that of Shai.

The docks of Sidon bustled with the usual afternoon activity, and for once in his life Mattizawa was irritated by the hustle and bustle that was so severely slowing him down. Sailors, soldiers, and merchants alike scattered out of his path, more than a few sending curses, threats, and dark looks after him, but he didn’t notice -nor would he have cared if he did- as he strode purposefully through the chaos, his mind racing through possibilities. Behind him, Nadia hurried to keep up a pace her finely-made dress had not been designed for, her sandals slapping against the worn stone of the harbor, his guards clattering along behind in an untidy clump.

"My prince." the guard he sent ahead called, gesturing toward a sleek trading vessel with a carved falcon prow. "The captain claims he can make Memphis in eight days with favorable winds, and he is provisioned and prepared to depart."

Mattizawa approached the vessel, taking in its well-maintained rigging and the practiced efficiency of its crew. He was no sailing-master, but he knew skill when he saw it, and this crew was skilled indeed. The captain—a older, weathered Kinahhi with skin like tanned leather—bowed slightly at his approach.

"You seek swift passage to Memphis?" the man asked, eyes calculating the worth of his potential passengers, and Mattizawa made sharp cutting gesture with his right hand to cut off whatever haggling or sales-pitch the man might intend to make.

“I am Prince Mattizawa of the Mitanni, brother to Tatukia, called Nefertiti in these lands. Uncle to Ankhesenamun, Pharoah of Egypt.” He introduced himself bluntly and firmly, dusting off his not-so-old command presence from those not-so-distant days leading armies into battle. Gratifyingly, the captain immediately stiffened into some sort of attention, his eyes widening as he seemed to realize the gravity of the situation. “I must reach the capital as soon as possible, I must speak to my niece and see to her safety immediately. Price is irrelevant, speed is all that matters. How swiftly can you get me there?”

“Seven days, but if you go ashore in Sena and acquire horses as often as you can through position or purse, you can reach Memphis in three. It will be a hard ride, even for a soldier, my prince.” the captain responded promptly, the warning respectfully given, and Mattizawa’s eyes tightened. That wasn’t ideal, Nadia certainly wasn’t able to ride so swiftly, but perhaps…

“How long would it take a single man, riding a single horse or riding river boats, to make the same distance?” he asked, trying to work out how much time he had, and the captain frowned for a moment and scratched at his bearded chin.

“A horse alone, from Sidon? Fourteen days, perhaps more or perhaps less, depending on how hard he pushed the beast, but it wouldn’t change much either way. With the river boats, perhaps twelve days.” he responded, peering at Mattizawa somewhat knowingly. “Whomever it is that you race, my prince, aboard my ship you will outrun them.”

"Good. Enough talking. We depart immediately." Mattizawa commanded, tossing a heavy pouch of silver to the captain, all the coin he carried on him. "The same again when we reach Sena. A promised backed by the royal family."

The captain weighed the pouch in his hand, nodded once, and began barking orders to his crew. Within moments, the dock erupted into purposeful chaos as ropes were untied, cargo secured, and sails unfurled. Within the half-hour, the ship was passing the breakwater and turning south-west, running before a strong wind with a determined man glaring into the distance standing at the prow.

I will not let the last of my family fall prey to the machinations of that Babylonian witch. He thought darkly, hand tight on the hilt of his sword. And if that means ensuring that the Hittites disappear before they can drag her into their dynastic squabbles, then I will see them on their way without a moment of hesitation. He inhaled deeply, jaw clenched tight. I could not save you, sister. Couldn’t stop you from being sent here to die.

But this land, the plots and plans of kings and queens, will not take your daughter from me too.

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Shai moaned softly, her fingers tangled in her cousin’s hair, her body rocking in time with the thrusts of Neferure’s fingers between her legs. Her head would be rolling on her pillows if it wasn’t for the fact that Mana and Bakara were pressed against her sides, laying kisses up and down her neck as they caressed her breasts. It was all amazing, of course, as it always was when she and her lovers could truly indulge in one another. Something that had been rare since this entire courting event had begun, given all the extra time she had spent entertaining the various dignitaries, which of course meant her typical duties couldn’t be done when they ought to, which had meant her free time -already a rare thing- had vanished entirely. And not just for herself, but for her Guardians, which was why their beloved Isis wasn’t also present, something that made all of them unhappy. Though she had been quite firm that they make love to one another all the same, and so here they were, locked in the throes of passion.

"Please…Neffy~!" Shai gasped, arching her back as Neferure curled her fingers just so, finding and grinding the pads just so against that perfect spot that made stars burst behind her eyelids, the tension coiling tighter in her belly. "I need—"

"We know exactly what you need, beloved." Mana whispered against her ear, nipping at the lobe with gentle teeth. "Don't we, sisters?"

Bakara hummed in agreement, her mouth abandoning her Pharoah’s throat and closing around an arousal-hardened nipple, tongue swirling and teeth nipping in a way that made the royal's toes curl against the silken sheets. The scent of arousal and perfumed oils hung heavy in the air, mingling with the sweet incense burning in the corner brazier, and soft music streamed in from the curtained side-room holding the same handful of trusted musicians that played at her baths. Eunuchs, one and all, raised from birth to entertain the women of the royal house in the midst of their most private and intimate moments without being able to take impermissible pleasure from the doing.

Neferure withdrew her fingers suddenly, earning a desperate and unhappy whine from Shai's lips, but before the Pharaoh could protest further, her cousin's mouth replaced them, tongue delving deep and making her cry out in pleasure. Mana and Bakara exchanged knowing looks over their beloved's trembling form, their own arousal evident in their flushed cheeks and quickened breathing, and they leaned across their love to give one another a fierce kiss, massaging Shai’s breasts with one hand each, while the other went between the opposite pair of legs.

"You taste like honey and ambrosia, my queen." Neferure murmured against Shai's sex, her words sending vibrations through the royal's core, tearing another moan from her throat. "Sweet enough for the gods themselves."

Shai's hips bucked involuntarily as Neferure's tongue found that perfect rhythm, her eyes locked onto the sight of her Shadow and her Mage kissing one another as they slowly stroked each other’s folds, the sight giving her almost as much pleasure as their hands on her breasts and her cousin’s tongue between her thighs. This, she knew, was true happiness. Those that she loved, together almost in their entirety, her room full of the smell and sound of their mutual adorations for one another. The only thing that was missing was Isis, and…

“Oh!” she whimpered at the thought, unbidden but increasingly common, of Hasamelli joining her family in their chambers. Of his muscled body looming over her or spread out beneath her, of watching him slowly drive her Mana wild, or hold her fierce Bakara down and rut her like a beast in the fields…!

The fantasy sent her tumbling over the edge with a cry that echoed through the chamber, her body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed through her. Neferure gentled her ministrations, helping her beloved through the aftershocks with soft kisses and tender caresses, while Mana and Bakara broke their kiss to help coax her along with gentle touches and murmured words of love and encouragement.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Shai collapsed back against the cushions, her chest heaving as her legs loosened the hold they had at some point taken around Neffy’s head. Neferure crawled up her body, leaving a trail of kisses along her trembling thighs and quivering stomach before capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. She moaned into her cousin’s mouth at the taste of her own pleasure on those full lips.

"My queen," Neferure whispered against her mouth, tone teasing. "you seemed particularly... inspired this evening. And loud as well, even for a tongue as prone to singing sweetly as yours."

Shai felt heat rush to her cheeks that had nothing to do with her recent climax. Had she really been so transparent, had it really been so obvious that something unusual was happening? She glanced at Mana and Bakara, who were still slowly pleasuring one another despite having shifted out of Neffy’s way, their eyes half-lidded but watching her reaction carefully.

"I was thinking of all of us," Shai admitted, her voice husky as she hedged around the fullness of the truth. "Together. Complete."

"Including Isis," Bakara murmured, arching slightly and moaning softly as Mana hit a particularly pleasant spot in her depths. Catching her breath, she continued. “And perhaps a certain northern barbarian?”

“Was it…is it really so obvious?” Shai mumbled, confessing instantly as she looked down briefly, before looking up again and shrugging as best she could under the current circumstances.

"Perhaps only to those who know you as intimately as we do, my love," Mana replied, a bit more smoothly than her current partner had managed, her fingers still working their magic between Bakara's thighs. "Your breathing changes when you think of him. Your pupils dilate."

"And you've been daydreaming far more frequently during council meetings," Neferure added, brushing a strand of hair from Shai's flushed face, the two of them smiling at one another in mingled affection and satisfaction as they listened to the other two finally cum together. "Staring at nothing with that particular smile. To say nothing of the fact that you seem to have little patience for your other suitors. Only Enlil-Nirari had any degree of real attention from you, and even that was…diminished."

Shai bit her lower lip, feeling caught but not entirely displeased. It wasn’t as if her lovers and Guardians didn’t know that she favored the Hittite prince. "I cannot help it. I know I vowed to give it until the end of the month, and I will, but I think my decision has already been made. Did you know he hasn’t taken anyone to bed since he arrived here? Even Enlil-Nirari has had a handful of encounters, though at least he has restricted himself to the whores, but Hasamelli has done nothing.”

“Oh, I don’t know about nothing. According to the servants responsible for his rooms, some rather thickly seeded hand-cloths have been kept separate from the rest of his garments nearly every night.” Bakara huffed a tired but sated laugh as she and Mana slumped tiredly down beside the cousins and cuddled closer to them. Grinning a bit blearily at her Queen, she continued. “Apparently, they’ve heard him ‘take himself in hand’ a few times while working in the outer portions of his suite. All of us feature quite prominently in his desires, but you most of all, beloved, and he’s been staining cloth thick enough they have to be burned near-nightly because of it.”

Shai felt a pleasant shiver run through her at the thought of Hasamelli pleasuring himself while thinking of her—of them. The image was unexpectedly arousing, and she found herself wondering what the Hittite prince might look like in such a vulnerable moment, those wine-red eyes hazed with desire, his strong warrior's hands working himself to completion.

"Is that so?" she managed, attempting to sound casual despite the way her heart quickened, and a treacherous curiosity of how thick his seed must be if the servants had to burn the cloth rather than wash it clean lanced through her mind and straight to her still-warm sex. "Well, I suppose I’m even more pleased, then, by his restraint in not finding himself company if he is so…virile and full of want.”

"Indeed," Neferure murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Shai's temple. "It speaks well of his character that he would deny himself release with others when he could easily command it. A prince of his stature could have his pick of willing companions, for coin or freely given alike."

"Or unwilling ones, for that matter." Mana added more darkly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on Shai's skin. "Many men of power take what they desire without thought for consent. That he restricts himself to his own hand suggests a respect for boundaries that is... uncommon among royalty. Unlike many of your other would-be suitors."

Shai nodded, though her mind wandered again to the image of Hasamelli alone in his chambers, his powerful frame taut with need as he brought himself to orgasm while thinking of her, ruining the cloth in his hand, leaving it…however men left such things, which she had only the meanest understanding of. The thought sent another flutter of heat through her already sensitive body.

“I agree, and good riddance to bad rubbish. Shai did the right thing by getting rid of those nasty fucks.” Bakara, apparently recovered enough from her pleasure at Mana’s hands to be foul-mouthed once again, sneered from her side. “Once Shai picks the Hittite and sends the last of these pricks packing, that will be the end of it.”

"Not quite the end." Shai murmured, a shadow passing over her features as she shifted against the plush cushions and pillows. "There is still the matter of my uncle. Akhenadin grows more insistent in his letters, and I fear he will not accept my choice gracefully."

“My father has proven…intractable. I had hoped that he would come to understand that Hasamelli is a decent enough man, but he has done anything but.” Neferure agrees with a sigh, shifting back a bit so that she and Shai can see Mana and Bakara without craning their necks. “I fear that we will need to dismiss him from your Court sooner rather than later, meryt.”

"Perhaps we will. No, let’s be honest. We already do. But his influence with the priests and certain nobles cannot be dismissed, and that makes dealing with him so much harder than it might otherwise be." Mana reminded them all, especially the somewhat bloodier-minded Bakara. "If he moves against your decision publicly, it could create difficulties for the kingdom. The last thing we need is some sort of insurrection or internal strife when we’ve turned away dozens of princes and potentates. Internal weakness paired with ill-feelings on the part of other nations would be suicidal."

“I dunno about that, I don’t think he’ll forment actual rebellion.” Bakara denied immediately, getting arched eyebrows in response, and she rolled her eyes. “Look, I hate the old fucker more than anyone and anything in this world, you all know that. But if there is one, single, solitary compliment I can give him, it’s that he is one hell of a patriot. He won’t do anything to make it easier for our enemies to hurt us.”

"True enough," Neferure conceded, though her expression remained troubled. "But patriotism can be twisted into justification for terrible acts. He may convince himself that removing Hasamelli, or even forcing your hand through more drastic means, serves Egypt's greater good."

Shai felt a chill run through her despite the warmth of her lovers' bodies pressed against her own. The thought of her uncle's machinations casting shadows over what should have been a time of joy and anticipation made her stomach tighten with unease.

"What sort of drastic means?" she asked quietly, though she suspected she already knew the answer.

"The kind that ambitious men resort to when they believe the crown is ‘in need of guidance’ and the realm ‘in need of stability’." Mana replied grimly, more than familiar with such efforts. "Palace coups. Arranged accidents. Claims of foreign influence or corruption that require immediate intervention for the good of the realm."

"Then we must ensure that when I announce my choice, it is done in such a way that opposition becomes impossible, or at least an act of genuine madness." Shai said slowly, mind racing as she tried to divine a solution to the threat inherent in her lovers’ predictions. "A grand ceremony, perhaps. Something that demonstrates divine approval of my decision. If I were to use the Items, all of them, and summon The Three, no one could possibly argue that my choice in husband was a poor one. It would be heresy, greater still than speaking against me could ever hope to be.”

“Anyone that tried would be likely torn apart on the spot, I have to agree.” Bakara agreed, sounding impressed. “That’s brilliant, Shai.”

The other three women exchanged glances, and Shai could see the mixture of admiration and concern in their eyes. Using all seven Millennium Items in a single ceremony was not something undertaken lightly. The magical strain alone would be immensely dangerous, to say nothing of the political implications of summoning the Three God-Beasts before the entire court for what amounted to settling an argument.

"It would certainly send a message, an inarguable one." Neferure said carefully, neither approving nor disapproving. "But meryt, the risk to you personally... channeling that much power at once, even with the rest of us acting as conduits..." she shook her head.

"I can handle it, with you all helping me." Shai replied with more confidence than she felt. Truth was, unison casting with all seven of the Millenium Items was something that had only been done once before, to ward Memphis from the Hittite armies and magicians long enough for Shimon to arrive from Saqqara and summon The Forbidden One. And that was a far more passive act, performed by far older and more experienced Item Bearers, than this would be. "And the symbolism would be unmistakable. The gods themselves blessing my union in a way that cannot possibly be misunderstood or misinterpreted."

“…let us plan for it as a possibility, and seek out other means of handling the situation. I trust us to succeed, and the benefits are clear, but I cannot support it as our first solution.” Neferure’s voice was firmer this time than the last, shaking her head again, harder this time, holding up a firm hand when three mouths opened. “I will not discuss this any further right now. In fact, none of us will discuss it further until Isis is here. I might be more powerful, but Isis’ connection to the gods is greater by magnitudes. We will see what she has to say.”

It wasn’t often that Neferure put her foot down or pulled rank, by nature and by culture she submitted to Shai’s will, but their family had learned a long time ago to heed her when she did act out of character. The only that they could do was murmur their acceptance, with varying degrees of enthusiasm and begrudgement, and she made a soft sound of satisfaction before smiling at them again.

“Good. I love all of you, and I won’t see you come to harm because of my father’s foolishness. If need be, I will deal with the threat he represents myself, and that will be the end of it.” she declared, before sitting up entirely. “Now, a bath for all of us, I think, with a bit more intimacy in the effort, to end the night. Shai has to tolerate another oaf for our sakes tomorrow, so let’s make sure tonight is the best it can be, hmm?”

She slipped from the bed and swayed her way across the room towards the bath chambers, leaving her three lovers staring after her perfect, plump rear with rekindled hunger, before they scrambled to follow. The night wasn’t over yet, Neffy was right about that, and they meant to eke out every moment of pleasure that they could while they had the time.

They never knew when they would have it again, after all.