They share similar doubts, so torn about each other on two differing levels. He doubts his nobility, his confidence stemming from a life led to believe he was destined for a throne and therefore worthy of all that was given him. Was he really all that they claimed once the crown was thrown away and his station was at the grace of a Desertist Teke? Were the women simply placating a prince when they spoke of his poetry and compliments so fondly? Were the men just cautious not to disrupt the pride of their would-be king? The Priest of Qetesh had taught him what he was meant to do, of course, as a Priestess of Min had taught him what a Mare was meant to do - neither had told him of a deficiency, but what if they too had only sought alms for their temple?

She is the first he had bedded as himself, all of himself, and nothing veiling him behind preconception. The Priest had been strictly for self-study, the Priestess had found a newly grown colt become a stallion at her tender mercy, Indira had slaked the warfevered version of him reawakened after years of stagnation as a stallion since the Priestess had lessoned him. Sayyida had gotten from him his naked soul, body, and mind.

She, he thought, shared similar concerns. Her ability, her lack of knowing his name, his lack of knowing hers, and if she were as any other woman he had heard of - she likely questioned his devotion. For all that he was not rampantly seasoned in women, having saved himself as was right to when one had no First Wife, he had not been utterly without excursions with his brothers. It was not only Aldebaran who had flirted, who had laid across a woman’s back and plucked at her withers while withstanding the compulsion to finish the deed they had thought to trick him into. It was no wonder that young mares, having seen his own youth, doubted a man’s resolve in remaining true to the Oath of Husband.

Her beauty beguiles him, it enchants him, it makes his body tense just thinking of another night like they have just enjoyed (for all that the morning after found them sore for their lessons in endurance). It was perhaps a curse for her that she was wed to the brother famed for his endurance, come to think of it, in comparison to the brother with the romantic touch or the other who was joked and notorious for his sprinting instead.

Ah, the mind of a male, though. He is afraid for his performance the same way she is afraid of his not having devotion. A product of their sex and the cultural difference experienced by one or the other. He begs her to give him time to earn her affection nonetheless, whatever foolishness that might be, and she turns into him with warmth and comforted return on his own gentle entreaty. His words soothe her, compliment her, claim her over again and she does not leave him in doubt, either. They are newlyweds, new lovers, and it shows in just how very insecure they both have become when Min and Qetesh did not ride them in the night to couple beneath the stars through their servant’s flesh.

"No, no, no, my love. My own heart would cease to beat if you asked it of me. I need only you. I regret nothing of us, I only wish..." He waits with baited breath, aching to know what wish he might grant after she so readily and eagerly granted his-- “I only wish that I could have come to you as a True Wife should.” She speaks his own mind, “You are to me a truer wife than any woman will ever be,” he murmurs into her mane in earnest-- but she has gathered herself and his ears flick to hear the words she speaks as she embraces him back.

"I pledge to always be faithful to you, my husband. I will be obedient to your wishes, and to support you in all things."

He knows these words -- he knows them and they punch him in the chest as if she could simply rip his heart from his chest. He is surprised, struck dumb by the familiarity of them. They are of great importance to her and he looks into her eyes as she moves to smile at him. "I do not even know the name of my alzawj, but I know my heart to be true."

“My wife, I receive your obedience with pleasure and will treasure your support in all things. I accept you and unite soul to soul in return for your promised faithfulness. I do this so that you may be called True Wife, beloved among women, and be made one with my flesh as is right in the sight of Allah.”

He says it as if entranced, surprised to know the whole verse by memory after such struggles in the practicing. “ϩⲓⲙⲉ… 'ant… Amira Sayyida bint Abdullah--” He sounds as if he loses his breath, “By the whimsy of Set--” he tries again, he backs up seven steps, sweeping one foreleg beneath him and craning his neck, “as-salām ʿalaykum, Amira Sayyida zawja Antares, ⲧⲁϭⲟⲓⲥ, ⲡⲁ ⲕⲗⲟⲙ ϩⲓⲙⲉ.”