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It was one of the most important festivals of the year, so they had to take this part seriously. Their people certainly did. Following the ritual calendar was just part of their duties as gods.
This particular ceremony would begin the season of sowing. After the huge city-wide banquet, Nabu and Amun would enter the main temple of Ay-Khanoum, and Rukkhadevata along with the jinn would lead the people out to the fields and walk among them, bestowing the blessings of fertility and growth upon the starter grains. This was how their lands had grown from villages in Lower Setekh to upper Setekh and Khaj-Nisut, to become Valivija, and to become greater still to encompass Al-Asif and Damavand Mountain and the Vourukasha Oasis in the east, and the lands of Avidya and the waters of Ardravi to the west. And all of it, all the people in all the villages in those lands, looked towards Ay-Khanoum for guidance.
So Nabu and Amun kept their faces carefully still as Rukkhadevata grew a wreath of wound redcrests and padisarahs and tied them together with it. Nabu had used to preside over this part herself, until she established her priesthood and handed that responsibility to her high priestess. Now her high priestess, Merari, accompanied Rukkhadevata as she raised glasses of wine to the two gods' lips.
Ferigees and Liloupar each had a bowl of wine in their hands. They took those bowls and went down the rows of chanting priests and priestesses and raised it to their lips as well, and all drank. Everyone was dressed in their ritual regalia, with Amun in his full headdress and Nabu dripping with small tourmaline stones hanging from her embroidered clothing. She had even thrown on the translucent face veil she normally didn't wear when she was dancing in the outfit.
Finally, once all had had their drink, Nabu and Amun carefully rotated in their parts of the wreath, which lay loosely around their arms. This was the most personally tricky part of the entire ritual, oddly enough. If they broke the wreath here by accident, it would be considered a bad omen for the season, so Nabu suffused it with her own power just to be careful. Amun even used to break it when it tickled against his chest hair, so now he shaved his entire torso for the occasion. (A bit of a shame, in Nabu's opinion, but ritual was ritual.)
They faced each other, and Amun's high priest stepped forward, followed by the other priests. Each one of them deposited a different valuable object on the altar that was behind them. A gleaming khopesh, a jar of date wine, gold and silver scarabs, bowls, and metal amulets...
Nabu and Amun had done this long enough that they could control their faces and not get bored, but Nabu still caught a glimmer of teasing amusement in Amun's bright eyes. She tried not to smile too widely in a way that would be too apparent to observers, but she still let her mouth twitch under the sheer silk of her veil.
Rukkhadevata cleared her throat.
“Lord of Flowers,” she called out, and Nabu looked at her. “Do you accept the gifts of the Lord of the Desert, offered as payment?”
“I do,” Nabu replied. “These are good and worthy gifts. May the sun smile upon the fields of sprouts that I pledge my daughters and I shall protect in the fields, in exchange for these gifts.”
Nabu's priestesses raised their voices in song, and Nabu nodded towards Amun. They rotated again carefully, facing the doors of the temple. Their respective high priests each opened one of the doors, and the two gods entered the darkness of the temple.
At this point, their public-facing role in this ritual was over. Nabu and Amun both sighed with relief and shrugged out of the wreath. Keeping it intact, the two of them placed it hanging on the door handles.
Amun immediately set aside his golden staff. Then they looked at each other and shared a laugh.
“You look as beautiful as ever,” Amun said, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. He brushed Nabu's veil off her shoulder.
“I think I have it easier than you,” Nabu replied, looking above his eyes. “I don't have to wear a heavy headdress for hours on end. Bend down so I can help you.”
She helped him take off the weighty golden headdress, hearing him sigh with relief as it came off. She placed it on a head-shaped stand that they left in the temple bedroom for exactly this purpose. In the meantime, Amun took off his wide metal usekh collar. They shed the more onerous parts of their robes, leaving them hanging on hooks and stands, and then turned to face each other.
He cleared his throat. “So, we can do what everyone out there thinks we are doing, or we can play twenty squares or senet. It's entirely up to you.”
“Hm. Last year we played twenty squares and you lost too quickly for my taste.” Nabu shook her head.
“Hey! You just got lucky that time.” Amun objected, crossing his arms. Nabu smirked a little. He was too easy to bait. “I think luck is on my side this year,” he continued.
Nabu made up her mind, and smiled.
“I think this year... you have paid for my services, Lord of Sand, and I would like to give you that which you have paid for.” Nabu nodded, and was pleased when she saw the apple of his throat move up and down as he swallowed his nervousness. “Oh, gracious, Deshret, haven't we done this enough times that you shouldn't be nervous?”
“I-I know that, but...” He took a breath. “I do not want to take... this opportunity for granted. It would be like taking you for granted, and I....”
He shook his head, and Nabu felt the tips of her ears burn with slight embarrassment. It was annoying, how they had done this for hundreds of years and yet Amun could always reduce her to a blushing young woman with the right words and charm.
His words, his eyes, the warmth of his body and embrace... they made it so easy to ignore a certain castle that hovered in the sky far away.
Thankfully, in the darkness of the main temple, she could not see it. Much easier to keep her focus down here, on the god-king they called the Son of the Sky.
(Perhaps the ritual was for her too, to ground her in the here and now.)
She smiled, setting her thoughts aside.
“Oh, sweet Amun.” She placed her hand on his throat, and slowly, tantalizingly, pulled it down his bare chest, then when she heard him catch his breath, she used a fingertip to draw a small spiral above his stomach.
She lowered her voice. “Come, Lord of Sand, and serve me on this ritual bed.”
Amun took a breath. “Yes, Lord of Flowers. Anything you desire.”
She took a seat on the bed as Amun undid the knot that held his linen shendyt around his waist. He let it fall to the floor, standing bare before her, covered only in the rust-red tattoos that decorated his dark skin.
Nabu nodded, regarding him.
“Is it an acceptable offering?” he asked.
So he was still leaning on ritual. Well, she could reply in the same way. They were stuck here the whole day, anyway. She had plenty of time to get him to loosen up before they would have to face the public again.
“From you, Amun? Always,” she said. She reached up to grab his arm. “Come here, and make me sing your praises.”
He put a hand behind her head. “Accept my worship, Nabu,” he murmured.
Their lips met in a kiss.
Perhaps this was indeed all part of a ritual-- but that didn't mean they couldn't enjoy themselves within those limits.