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The sun itself rose and set on war in Egypt, the distaste of Greeks coated the lips of every fool swaying in the streets and traipsing through the courts. Perhaps, if she thought less of herself and was uneducated enough to vocally yearn for a pointless war, she too could curry favor with the pharaoh she thought even less of. Iaheru had very little respect for military men, though the subject of the night had impressed her in spite of his former profession and with his curious demeanor.
She had invited Neithotep, a noticeably reserved force in the Sheifa Saraayaa, to a dinner. The saraayaa matched her daughter's malaise, as activity had slowed with the impending war. True finery in storage had been moved to the large saraayaa in Thebes and it was only time before the family would relocate to the compound to the south. Yet, the fountains still trickled over translucent shells retrieved from deep waters, the snake tongued lips at the forefront of a grand entrance the forefront of a new era falling on the great city of Cairo.
They would assemble tonight in a breezy room on the second floor of the saraayaa, nearer to the children's wings and adjacent to Sutekh's former study. For a while, Iaheru had boarded up the room in efforts to preserve his essence. This was short lived. Life moved onward and she had the contents of the room, save for the sentimentality of Sutekh's ledgers, poems, and lessons, burned in a gaping pit in their courtyard. Pitching things from the second story below as her husband stood on the opposite mezzanine. It had truly been a momentous year.
Tonight, she had a small table set with light foods, lamb, and honey cakes for later. She expected that tonight with Neithotep would go over as well as the afternoon she set Sutekh's study on fire. Nevertheless, it had to happen. "Good evening, Nia." Iaheru's heart eagerly beat in response to genuine happiness that her daughter even came to share dinner with her regardless of the ultimate outcome of the evening.
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The sun itself rose and set on war in Egypt, the distaste of Greeks coated the lips of every fool swaying in the streets and traipsing through the courts. Perhaps, if she thought less of herself and was uneducated enough to vocally yearn for a pointless war, she too could curry favor with the pharaoh she thought even less of. Iaheru had very little respect for military men, though the subject of the night had impressed her in spite of his former profession and with his curious demeanor.
She had invited Neithotep, a noticeably reserved force in the Sheifa Saraayaa, to a dinner. The saraayaa matched her daughter's malaise, as activity had slowed with the impending war. True finery in storage had been moved to the large saraayaa in Thebes and it was only time before the family would relocate to the compound to the south. Yet, the fountains still trickled over translucent shells retrieved from deep waters, the snake tongued lips at the forefront of a grand entrance the forefront of a new era falling on the great city of Cairo.
They would assemble tonight in a breezy room on the second floor of the saraayaa, nearer to the children's wings and adjacent to Sutekh's former study. For a while, Iaheru had boarded up the room in efforts to preserve his essence. This was short lived. Life moved onward and she had the contents of the room, save for the sentimentality of Sutekh's ledgers, poems, and lessons, burned in a gaping pit in their courtyard. Pitching things from the second story below as her husband stood on the opposite mezzanine. It had truly been a momentous year.
Tonight, she had a small table set with light foods, lamb, and honey cakes for later. She expected that tonight with Neithotep would go over as well as the afternoon she set Sutekh's study on fire. Nevertheless, it had to happen. "Good evening, Nia." Iaheru's heart eagerly beat in response to genuine happiness that her daughter even came to share dinner with her regardless of the ultimate outcome of the evening.
The sun itself rose and set on war in Egypt, the distaste of Greeks coated the lips of every fool swaying in the streets and traipsing through the courts. Perhaps, if she thought less of herself and was uneducated enough to vocally yearn for a pointless war, she too could curry favor with the pharaoh she thought even less of. Iaheru had very little respect for military men, though the subject of the night had impressed her in spite of his former profession and with his curious demeanor.
She had invited Neithotep, a noticeably reserved force in the Sheifa Saraayaa, to a dinner. The saraayaa matched her daughter's malaise, as activity had slowed with the impending war. True finery in storage had been moved to the large saraayaa in Thebes and it was only time before the family would relocate to the compound to the south. Yet, the fountains still trickled over translucent shells retrieved from deep waters, the snake tongued lips at the forefront of a grand entrance the forefront of a new era falling on the great city of Cairo.
They would assemble tonight in a breezy room on the second floor of the saraayaa, nearer to the children's wings and adjacent to Sutekh's former study. For a while, Iaheru had boarded up the room in efforts to preserve his essence. This was short lived. Life moved onward and she had the contents of the room, save for the sentimentality of Sutekh's ledgers, poems, and lessons, burned in a gaping pit in their courtyard. Pitching things from the second story below as her husband stood on the opposite mezzanine. It had truly been a momentous year.
Tonight, she had a small table set with light foods, lamb, and honey cakes for later. She expected that tonight with Neithotep would go over as well as the afternoon she set Sutekh's study on fire. Nevertheless, it had to happen. "Good evening, Nia." Iaheru's heart eagerly beat in response to genuine happiness that her daughter even came to share dinner with her regardless of the ultimate outcome of the evening.
Neithotep knew Narmer H’Haikkadad had been to visit their saraaya in the days prior, but thought little of it until tonight. It was common enough for her mother to receive noble visitors, and the Sirdar of Hei Haikkadad seemed a likely candidate for such a visit. However, being summoned to a private dinner with Iaheru so soon afterward and the accompanying look on the face of the slave who’d brought said summons… It made Nia uneasy.
She had a feeling she knew what this dinner might be about, and if she was right, there would be more things burning in the saraaya tonight.
Clad in a black linen kalasiris with a golden shawl pulled tightly around her shoulders, Nia walked into the airy room upstairs where her mother awaited her. Her steps were slow and hesitant, her face gaunt with a weary exhaustion. She’d been out all night the evening before; while that wasn’t unusual for her, the reasoning behind it was what left her fatigued and in pain. It was the reason she covered herself so carefully, hiding the evidence of her late-night interlude to the Evening Star Palace. When her mother managed to corner her, she had a tendency to ask far too many questions. Given her rather erratic behavior in the recent weeks, she had no doubt such questions would emerge at this dinner. There was no need to outright invite the inevitable by leaving herself exposed.
“Good evening, Mother,” Nia returned Iaheru’s greeting amicably enough, smoothing the skirt of her kalasiris as she took a seat opposite the Sheifa matriarch. Her dark eyes roamed over the table with mild interest, the savory scents of garlic and coriander pleasantly wafting under her nose. The fact that so many of her favorite foods were in attendance only made her that much more suspicious, shifting uneasily in her seat before turning her attention back to her mother.
She started tearing delicately at the hunk of lamb on her plate, placing a piece on her tongue and chewing it slowly. No matter how uncomfortable she was with the thought of this dinner, she had to admit everything looked and smelled delicious, and the meat lived up to its decadent aroma. Swallowing the morsel she’d sampled, she licked her lips and met her mother’s gaze with a speculative look in her own.
“Your dinner invitation was unexpected,” she remarked idly, taking a sip from the cup of cool water resting near her plate. Gently swirling the liquid before she set it back down, Nia took another bite of the lamb. Tilting her head curiously and trying not to sound as skeptical as she felt, she asked, “Is it a special occasion?”
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Neithotep knew Narmer H’Haikkadad had been to visit their saraaya in the days prior, but thought little of it until tonight. It was common enough for her mother to receive noble visitors, and the Sirdar of Hei Haikkadad seemed a likely candidate for such a visit. However, being summoned to a private dinner with Iaheru so soon afterward and the accompanying look on the face of the slave who’d brought said summons… It made Nia uneasy.
She had a feeling she knew what this dinner might be about, and if she was right, there would be more things burning in the saraaya tonight.
Clad in a black linen kalasiris with a golden shawl pulled tightly around her shoulders, Nia walked into the airy room upstairs where her mother awaited her. Her steps were slow and hesitant, her face gaunt with a weary exhaustion. She’d been out all night the evening before; while that wasn’t unusual for her, the reasoning behind it was what left her fatigued and in pain. It was the reason she covered herself so carefully, hiding the evidence of her late-night interlude to the Evening Star Palace. When her mother managed to corner her, she had a tendency to ask far too many questions. Given her rather erratic behavior in the recent weeks, she had no doubt such questions would emerge at this dinner. There was no need to outright invite the inevitable by leaving herself exposed.
“Good evening, Mother,” Nia returned Iaheru’s greeting amicably enough, smoothing the skirt of her kalasiris as she took a seat opposite the Sheifa matriarch. Her dark eyes roamed over the table with mild interest, the savory scents of garlic and coriander pleasantly wafting under her nose. The fact that so many of her favorite foods were in attendance only made her that much more suspicious, shifting uneasily in her seat before turning her attention back to her mother.
She started tearing delicately at the hunk of lamb on her plate, placing a piece on her tongue and chewing it slowly. No matter how uncomfortable she was with the thought of this dinner, she had to admit everything looked and smelled delicious, and the meat lived up to its decadent aroma. Swallowing the morsel she’d sampled, she licked her lips and met her mother’s gaze with a speculative look in her own.
“Your dinner invitation was unexpected,” she remarked idly, taking a sip from the cup of cool water resting near her plate. Gently swirling the liquid before she set it back down, Nia took another bite of the lamb. Tilting her head curiously and trying not to sound as skeptical as she felt, she asked, “Is it a special occasion?”
Neithotep knew Narmer H’Haikkadad had been to visit their saraaya in the days prior, but thought little of it until tonight. It was common enough for her mother to receive noble visitors, and the Sirdar of Hei Haikkadad seemed a likely candidate for such a visit. However, being summoned to a private dinner with Iaheru so soon afterward and the accompanying look on the face of the slave who’d brought said summons… It made Nia uneasy.
She had a feeling she knew what this dinner might be about, and if she was right, there would be more things burning in the saraaya tonight.
Clad in a black linen kalasiris with a golden shawl pulled tightly around her shoulders, Nia walked into the airy room upstairs where her mother awaited her. Her steps were slow and hesitant, her face gaunt with a weary exhaustion. She’d been out all night the evening before; while that wasn’t unusual for her, the reasoning behind it was what left her fatigued and in pain. It was the reason she covered herself so carefully, hiding the evidence of her late-night interlude to the Evening Star Palace. When her mother managed to corner her, she had a tendency to ask far too many questions. Given her rather erratic behavior in the recent weeks, she had no doubt such questions would emerge at this dinner. There was no need to outright invite the inevitable by leaving herself exposed.
“Good evening, Mother,” Nia returned Iaheru’s greeting amicably enough, smoothing the skirt of her kalasiris as she took a seat opposite the Sheifa matriarch. Her dark eyes roamed over the table with mild interest, the savory scents of garlic and coriander pleasantly wafting under her nose. The fact that so many of her favorite foods were in attendance only made her that much more suspicious, shifting uneasily in her seat before turning her attention back to her mother.
She started tearing delicately at the hunk of lamb on her plate, placing a piece on her tongue and chewing it slowly. No matter how uncomfortable she was with the thought of this dinner, she had to admit everything looked and smelled delicious, and the meat lived up to its decadent aroma. Swallowing the morsel she’d sampled, she licked her lips and met her mother’s gaze with a speculative look in her own.
“Your dinner invitation was unexpected,” she remarked idly, taking a sip from the cup of cool water resting near her plate. Gently swirling the liquid before she set it back down, Nia took another bite of the lamb. Tilting her head curiously and trying not to sound as skeptical as she felt, she asked, “Is it a special occasion?”
Iaheru absorbed her daughter's presence, wondering if years of lessons had tamed Neithotep's wildness, if she had finally burnt out, or if something else entirely had happened. Reports of crime were up towards the docks and though Neithotep was adventurous, she was not stupid. If anything Iaheru did right it was that her children were not insufferable. They were competent, or, at the very least, emergently capable.
"I remember when eating together wasn't unexpected or special," Iaheru tilted her head wistfully, remembering the days long ago when they'd all sit in the reception and eat together. Akhenaten and Neithotep would pair off whereas Sutekh and Nefertaari were better suited to each others studious natures. She and Onuphrious would sit together at the head of the table, close enough together that they'd share stains should meat splatter or sauce drip, basking in the fulfillment of the intelligent and enjoyable brood of children they raised. These days were not likely to return, but perhaps they could manifest on a smaller scale. Iaheru doubted this evening would be remembered fondly and she knew that it was indeed, special, despite her sloppy dismissal of the notion. "But we do have some matters to discuss," Iaheru dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a rough napkin. As she waved down her servants, she ordered that two bottles of wine be brought up from the reserves.
Once the servant left, Iaheru fidgeted with a ring before she brought Neithotep a less controversial proposal:
"Do you remember Greek lessons? I think we'd all benefit from learning some Greek," Iaheru pushed around the meat on her plate, wondering why she chose meat tonight rather than eggplant or legumes. "In fact, have you given thought to continuing your education, Neithotep?"
"Where is your life going now?" Iaheru continued, trying her very best to sound congenial more so than hawkishly maternal. "What are you progressing towards? What do you know?" Iaheru raised an eyebrow, not wanting to outright admit her plan for fear of Neithotep's reaction. Matriarchal narcissism falsely assured Iaheru that she had been effective in concealing the nature of Narmer's visit and, as the result of this ego, she danced around her own daughter with the prospect of marriage not quite unsaid.
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Iaheru absorbed her daughter's presence, wondering if years of lessons had tamed Neithotep's wildness, if she had finally burnt out, or if something else entirely had happened. Reports of crime were up towards the docks and though Neithotep was adventurous, she was not stupid. If anything Iaheru did right it was that her children were not insufferable. They were competent, or, at the very least, emergently capable.
"I remember when eating together wasn't unexpected or special," Iaheru tilted her head wistfully, remembering the days long ago when they'd all sit in the reception and eat together. Akhenaten and Neithotep would pair off whereas Sutekh and Nefertaari were better suited to each others studious natures. She and Onuphrious would sit together at the head of the table, close enough together that they'd share stains should meat splatter or sauce drip, basking in the fulfillment of the intelligent and enjoyable brood of children they raised. These days were not likely to return, but perhaps they could manifest on a smaller scale. Iaheru doubted this evening would be remembered fondly and she knew that it was indeed, special, despite her sloppy dismissal of the notion. "But we do have some matters to discuss," Iaheru dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a rough napkin. As she waved down her servants, she ordered that two bottles of wine be brought up from the reserves.
Once the servant left, Iaheru fidgeted with a ring before she brought Neithotep a less controversial proposal:
"Do you remember Greek lessons? I think we'd all benefit from learning some Greek," Iaheru pushed around the meat on her plate, wondering why she chose meat tonight rather than eggplant or legumes. "In fact, have you given thought to continuing your education, Neithotep?"
"Where is your life going now?" Iaheru continued, trying her very best to sound congenial more so than hawkishly maternal. "What are you progressing towards? What do you know?" Iaheru raised an eyebrow, not wanting to outright admit her plan for fear of Neithotep's reaction. Matriarchal narcissism falsely assured Iaheru that she had been effective in concealing the nature of Narmer's visit and, as the result of this ego, she danced around her own daughter with the prospect of marriage not quite unsaid.
Iaheru absorbed her daughter's presence, wondering if years of lessons had tamed Neithotep's wildness, if she had finally burnt out, or if something else entirely had happened. Reports of crime were up towards the docks and though Neithotep was adventurous, she was not stupid. If anything Iaheru did right it was that her children were not insufferable. They were competent, or, at the very least, emergently capable.
"I remember when eating together wasn't unexpected or special," Iaheru tilted her head wistfully, remembering the days long ago when they'd all sit in the reception and eat together. Akhenaten and Neithotep would pair off whereas Sutekh and Nefertaari were better suited to each others studious natures. She and Onuphrious would sit together at the head of the table, close enough together that they'd share stains should meat splatter or sauce drip, basking in the fulfillment of the intelligent and enjoyable brood of children they raised. These days were not likely to return, but perhaps they could manifest on a smaller scale. Iaheru doubted this evening would be remembered fondly and she knew that it was indeed, special, despite her sloppy dismissal of the notion. "But we do have some matters to discuss," Iaheru dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a rough napkin. As she waved down her servants, she ordered that two bottles of wine be brought up from the reserves.
Once the servant left, Iaheru fidgeted with a ring before she brought Neithotep a less controversial proposal:
"Do you remember Greek lessons? I think we'd all benefit from learning some Greek," Iaheru pushed around the meat on her plate, wondering why she chose meat tonight rather than eggplant or legumes. "In fact, have you given thought to continuing your education, Neithotep?"
"Where is your life going now?" Iaheru continued, trying her very best to sound congenial more so than hawkishly maternal. "What are you progressing towards? What do you know?" Iaheru raised an eyebrow, not wanting to outright admit her plan for fear of Neithotep's reaction. Matriarchal narcissism falsely assured Iaheru that she had been effective in concealing the nature of Narmer's visit and, as the result of this ego, she danced around her own daughter with the prospect of marriage not quite unsaid.
Nia, too, remembered those days of familial closeness with a fond wistfulness, unknowingly longing for the same things as her mother, albeit for different reasons. Granted, she’d never been close to most of her family, but when Sutekh had still been in the saraaya, things were different. Her parents had kept their attention on him and Nefertaari, their golden children who would carry the Sheifa name to new heights. Meanwhile, she and Akhenaten had gone largely undisturbed, free to roam the streets of Cairo and indulge in whatever they wished while Iaheru and Onuphrious were occupied with their more promising offspring.
But now, that was all gone, disappeared like it had never existed. Akhenaten was the new heir to Hei Sheifa, and their days of careless fun and mindless indulgence were at an end. Iaheru had latched onto her youngest child with the voracity of a lioness taking down its prey, and suddenly Nia’s partner in crime was gone. With the loss of her favored son and Nefertaari frequently occupied with Onuphrious, Iaheru’s nattering attention had started to shift more in Nia’s direction, as well, and that shift was not one that the young woman was fond of. She did not like this dinner nor the overly casual attitude her mother exhibited. She couldn’t help but feel like she was being bribed.
But we do have some matters to discuss.
There it was, right there. Wistful but distant affection followed by the inevitable clinch… Her suspicion only doubled, and she was losing her appetite by the second. Opening her mouth to question what those matters might be, she was surprised by the next question Iaheru asked, and closed it again. Greek lessons? Education? Nia had never taken much to her lessons when she was young, and therefore they had not continued longer than they absolutely had to. Why was this coming up now?
“Why should we study the language of the country we’re going to war with?” she countered blithely. “His Royal Majesty seems very convinced that Greece will crumble at our hands. Maybe they ought to be learning Coptic.” Truth was, she didn’t care much about the conflict either way, and merely said it to be combative. She was grateful for the war only in that Iahotep would be gone for at least a few weeks. Perhaps by the time he returned, he would not want her anymore. And even if that were not the case, at least she’d gain a reprieve.
There was always the chance he might not even return. It was a secret longing, and a poignant one, but dangerous. No matter how cruelly he treated her, no matter how much she despised him, was it inherently blasphemous to long for the death of one’s king? Would the gods know and punish her for it?
As if I’m not already being punished enough.
Iaheru’s line of questioning continued, and Nia’s gaze narrowed. She didn’t like these discussions about her future; they inevitably led down a path of anger and bitterness that did nothing to endear mother to daughter, nor daughter to mother. Where was her life going? What was she progressing toward? They were questions she had no answers for, and even if she did, she doubted her mother would like them. The Sheifa matriarch may have thought she was being clever with her tiptoeing around the real purpose behind this dinner, but Nia wasn’t fooled. She knew there was something else going on here, and these questions were only serving to highlight that suspicion, rather than detract from it.
“You and I both know I have little ambition, Mother.” Her response was flat, sullen, her eyes on her plate in front of her instead of meeting Iaheru’s. She looked up only when the slave returned with the bottles of wine her mother had requested, the man pouring them each a glass before disappearing again. Taking a swallow of hers, Neithotep still kept her face carefully averted as she continued, “The life I want is the life you say I can’t have. What do these questions matter when you’re just going to tell me what I must do anyway?”
At that, Nia did dare a look at Iaheru, though it was quick, the word of a second, before she was taking another sip of wine and glancing away again. “So, what is it, Mother? What must I do this time?”
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Nia, too, remembered those days of familial closeness with a fond wistfulness, unknowingly longing for the same things as her mother, albeit for different reasons. Granted, she’d never been close to most of her family, but when Sutekh had still been in the saraaya, things were different. Her parents had kept their attention on him and Nefertaari, their golden children who would carry the Sheifa name to new heights. Meanwhile, she and Akhenaten had gone largely undisturbed, free to roam the streets of Cairo and indulge in whatever they wished while Iaheru and Onuphrious were occupied with their more promising offspring.
But now, that was all gone, disappeared like it had never existed. Akhenaten was the new heir to Hei Sheifa, and their days of careless fun and mindless indulgence were at an end. Iaheru had latched onto her youngest child with the voracity of a lioness taking down its prey, and suddenly Nia’s partner in crime was gone. With the loss of her favored son and Nefertaari frequently occupied with Onuphrious, Iaheru’s nattering attention had started to shift more in Nia’s direction, as well, and that shift was not one that the young woman was fond of. She did not like this dinner nor the overly casual attitude her mother exhibited. She couldn’t help but feel like she was being bribed.
But we do have some matters to discuss.
There it was, right there. Wistful but distant affection followed by the inevitable clinch… Her suspicion only doubled, and she was losing her appetite by the second. Opening her mouth to question what those matters might be, she was surprised by the next question Iaheru asked, and closed it again. Greek lessons? Education? Nia had never taken much to her lessons when she was young, and therefore they had not continued longer than they absolutely had to. Why was this coming up now?
“Why should we study the language of the country we’re going to war with?” she countered blithely. “His Royal Majesty seems very convinced that Greece will crumble at our hands. Maybe they ought to be learning Coptic.” Truth was, she didn’t care much about the conflict either way, and merely said it to be combative. She was grateful for the war only in that Iahotep would be gone for at least a few weeks. Perhaps by the time he returned, he would not want her anymore. And even if that were not the case, at least she’d gain a reprieve.
There was always the chance he might not even return. It was a secret longing, and a poignant one, but dangerous. No matter how cruelly he treated her, no matter how much she despised him, was it inherently blasphemous to long for the death of one’s king? Would the gods know and punish her for it?
As if I’m not already being punished enough.
Iaheru’s line of questioning continued, and Nia’s gaze narrowed. She didn’t like these discussions about her future; they inevitably led down a path of anger and bitterness that did nothing to endear mother to daughter, nor daughter to mother. Where was her life going? What was she progressing toward? They were questions she had no answers for, and even if she did, she doubted her mother would like them. The Sheifa matriarch may have thought she was being clever with her tiptoeing around the real purpose behind this dinner, but Nia wasn’t fooled. She knew there was something else going on here, and these questions were only serving to highlight that suspicion, rather than detract from it.
“You and I both know I have little ambition, Mother.” Her response was flat, sullen, her eyes on her plate in front of her instead of meeting Iaheru’s. She looked up only when the slave returned with the bottles of wine her mother had requested, the man pouring them each a glass before disappearing again. Taking a swallow of hers, Neithotep still kept her face carefully averted as she continued, “The life I want is the life you say I can’t have. What do these questions matter when you’re just going to tell me what I must do anyway?”
At that, Nia did dare a look at Iaheru, though it was quick, the word of a second, before she was taking another sip of wine and glancing away again. “So, what is it, Mother? What must I do this time?”
Nia, too, remembered those days of familial closeness with a fond wistfulness, unknowingly longing for the same things as her mother, albeit for different reasons. Granted, she’d never been close to most of her family, but when Sutekh had still been in the saraaya, things were different. Her parents had kept their attention on him and Nefertaari, their golden children who would carry the Sheifa name to new heights. Meanwhile, she and Akhenaten had gone largely undisturbed, free to roam the streets of Cairo and indulge in whatever they wished while Iaheru and Onuphrious were occupied with their more promising offspring.
But now, that was all gone, disappeared like it had never existed. Akhenaten was the new heir to Hei Sheifa, and their days of careless fun and mindless indulgence were at an end. Iaheru had latched onto her youngest child with the voracity of a lioness taking down its prey, and suddenly Nia’s partner in crime was gone. With the loss of her favored son and Nefertaari frequently occupied with Onuphrious, Iaheru’s nattering attention had started to shift more in Nia’s direction, as well, and that shift was not one that the young woman was fond of. She did not like this dinner nor the overly casual attitude her mother exhibited. She couldn’t help but feel like she was being bribed.
But we do have some matters to discuss.
There it was, right there. Wistful but distant affection followed by the inevitable clinch… Her suspicion only doubled, and she was losing her appetite by the second. Opening her mouth to question what those matters might be, she was surprised by the next question Iaheru asked, and closed it again. Greek lessons? Education? Nia had never taken much to her lessons when she was young, and therefore they had not continued longer than they absolutely had to. Why was this coming up now?
“Why should we study the language of the country we’re going to war with?” she countered blithely. “His Royal Majesty seems very convinced that Greece will crumble at our hands. Maybe they ought to be learning Coptic.” Truth was, she didn’t care much about the conflict either way, and merely said it to be combative. She was grateful for the war only in that Iahotep would be gone for at least a few weeks. Perhaps by the time he returned, he would not want her anymore. And even if that were not the case, at least she’d gain a reprieve.
There was always the chance he might not even return. It was a secret longing, and a poignant one, but dangerous. No matter how cruelly he treated her, no matter how much she despised him, was it inherently blasphemous to long for the death of one’s king? Would the gods know and punish her for it?
As if I’m not already being punished enough.
Iaheru’s line of questioning continued, and Nia’s gaze narrowed. She didn’t like these discussions about her future; they inevitably led down a path of anger and bitterness that did nothing to endear mother to daughter, nor daughter to mother. Where was her life going? What was she progressing toward? They were questions she had no answers for, and even if she did, she doubted her mother would like them. The Sheifa matriarch may have thought she was being clever with her tiptoeing around the real purpose behind this dinner, but Nia wasn’t fooled. She knew there was something else going on here, and these questions were only serving to highlight that suspicion, rather than detract from it.
“You and I both know I have little ambition, Mother.” Her response was flat, sullen, her eyes on her plate in front of her instead of meeting Iaheru’s. She looked up only when the slave returned with the bottles of wine her mother had requested, the man pouring them each a glass before disappearing again. Taking a swallow of hers, Neithotep still kept her face carefully averted as she continued, “The life I want is the life you say I can’t have. What do these questions matter when you’re just going to tell me what I must do anyway?”
At that, Nia did dare a look at Iaheru, though it was quick, the word of a second, before she was taking another sip of wine and glancing away again. “So, what is it, Mother? What must I do this time?”
Though defiant, Iaheru could not have been more proud of Neithotep's reaction. As disrespectfully blase as it was, it was the confidence in her daughter's defiance that affirmed Iaheru's decision to approach the subject with Neithotep. Her daughter's determination and stubbornness rendered her prepared for the aughts of marriage. She would not have any of her daughters submit or be party to the fickle desires of men.
It was the woman who pushed the sun across the sky in Egypt. Not soldiers. Not men. Not Pharaohs. But women. Women in the streets, laborers, servants, slaves, courtiers, Queens breathed life into a kingdom. In a kingdom that worshiped natural beauty, it went without saying that the root of all beauty emanated from the finer gender. The creator herself towed the sun across the arc of the horizon while the performance of men stole the sweat from the ever laboring brow of women, collectively. "I think you have all the ambition in the world, Neithotep," Iaheru squinted her eyes, her tone indicating neither sarcasm nor encouragement, each word stuck in the gelled air between them.
Iaheru let the comments about Greek dissipate, there was no need to express her distaste towards war and the Pharaoh at the moment, especially so to her daughter, ever brash, and with a tongue ever quick to slip between her teeth. "Language is an invaluable skill, it was merely a suggestion to combat the unknowns in our future," Iaheru managed. The Greek truly wasn't a serious suggestion, merely something to distract from the ultimate discussion.
"I haven't asked much of you. This was not fair. Let's make this clear, much was always expected of you. I'm sorry if you thought otherwise." Iaheru's eyes narrowed, her own stomach twisted into knots over the prospect of arranged marriage. The concept of the arranged marriage was a stabbing pain between two collarbones, a reality distinct from her own lived experience with Neithotep's father. Perhaps arranged marriage was for the best: love tended to be tumultuous and very rarely understanding, the contractual undertones of an arranged marriage was something Neithotep probably grasped more than love. Even Iaheru wrapped herself around the distance and constancy of contracts, wondering if her own arranged marriage had been undermined by their fondness, a trial that Neithotep would never have the luxury of determining for herself. "You have a potential suitor. It is a good match. I expect that we meet him soon."
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Though defiant, Iaheru could not have been more proud of Neithotep's reaction. As disrespectfully blase as it was, it was the confidence in her daughter's defiance that affirmed Iaheru's decision to approach the subject with Neithotep. Her daughter's determination and stubbornness rendered her prepared for the aughts of marriage. She would not have any of her daughters submit or be party to the fickle desires of men.
It was the woman who pushed the sun across the sky in Egypt. Not soldiers. Not men. Not Pharaohs. But women. Women in the streets, laborers, servants, slaves, courtiers, Queens breathed life into a kingdom. In a kingdom that worshiped natural beauty, it went without saying that the root of all beauty emanated from the finer gender. The creator herself towed the sun across the arc of the horizon while the performance of men stole the sweat from the ever laboring brow of women, collectively. "I think you have all the ambition in the world, Neithotep," Iaheru squinted her eyes, her tone indicating neither sarcasm nor encouragement, each word stuck in the gelled air between them.
Iaheru let the comments about Greek dissipate, there was no need to express her distaste towards war and the Pharaoh at the moment, especially so to her daughter, ever brash, and with a tongue ever quick to slip between her teeth. "Language is an invaluable skill, it was merely a suggestion to combat the unknowns in our future," Iaheru managed. The Greek truly wasn't a serious suggestion, merely something to distract from the ultimate discussion.
"I haven't asked much of you. This was not fair. Let's make this clear, much was always expected of you. I'm sorry if you thought otherwise." Iaheru's eyes narrowed, her own stomach twisted into knots over the prospect of arranged marriage. The concept of the arranged marriage was a stabbing pain between two collarbones, a reality distinct from her own lived experience with Neithotep's father. Perhaps arranged marriage was for the best: love tended to be tumultuous and very rarely understanding, the contractual undertones of an arranged marriage was something Neithotep probably grasped more than love. Even Iaheru wrapped herself around the distance and constancy of contracts, wondering if her own arranged marriage had been undermined by their fondness, a trial that Neithotep would never have the luxury of determining for herself. "You have a potential suitor. It is a good match. I expect that we meet him soon."
Though defiant, Iaheru could not have been more proud of Neithotep's reaction. As disrespectfully blase as it was, it was the confidence in her daughter's defiance that affirmed Iaheru's decision to approach the subject with Neithotep. Her daughter's determination and stubbornness rendered her prepared for the aughts of marriage. She would not have any of her daughters submit or be party to the fickle desires of men.
It was the woman who pushed the sun across the sky in Egypt. Not soldiers. Not men. Not Pharaohs. But women. Women in the streets, laborers, servants, slaves, courtiers, Queens breathed life into a kingdom. In a kingdom that worshiped natural beauty, it went without saying that the root of all beauty emanated from the finer gender. The creator herself towed the sun across the arc of the horizon while the performance of men stole the sweat from the ever laboring brow of women, collectively. "I think you have all the ambition in the world, Neithotep," Iaheru squinted her eyes, her tone indicating neither sarcasm nor encouragement, each word stuck in the gelled air between them.
Iaheru let the comments about Greek dissipate, there was no need to express her distaste towards war and the Pharaoh at the moment, especially so to her daughter, ever brash, and with a tongue ever quick to slip between her teeth. "Language is an invaluable skill, it was merely a suggestion to combat the unknowns in our future," Iaheru managed. The Greek truly wasn't a serious suggestion, merely something to distract from the ultimate discussion.
"I haven't asked much of you. This was not fair. Let's make this clear, much was always expected of you. I'm sorry if you thought otherwise." Iaheru's eyes narrowed, her own stomach twisted into knots over the prospect of arranged marriage. The concept of the arranged marriage was a stabbing pain between two collarbones, a reality distinct from her own lived experience with Neithotep's father. Perhaps arranged marriage was for the best: love tended to be tumultuous and very rarely understanding, the contractual undertones of an arranged marriage was something Neithotep probably grasped more than love. Even Iaheru wrapped herself around the distance and constancy of contracts, wondering if her own arranged marriage had been undermined by their fondness, a trial that Neithotep would never have the luxury of determining for herself. "You have a potential suitor. It is a good match. I expect that we meet him soon."
Nia’s hands stilled on the table, body going taut when Iaheru finally admitted the reason for all of this—the choice foods, the sweet wines, the deceptively calm congeniality her mother tried to present. A suitor. It was just as she’d suspected and just as she’d feared. Her stomach clenched, her throat went dry, and for a long, shuddering moment, the woman thought she might weep. She stared at her plate, eyes hard as she let the wave of anger and uncertainty wash over her.
Marriage. While the idea itself was not one that repelled her, the idea of a marriage she didn’t choose… now, that was repulsive. Flirtatious and promiscuous she’d always been, but Neithotep was a romantic at her core. A marriage to a man she did not love, a union arranged by her parents, was one of her worst nightmares, the looming responsibility the tumultuous young noblewoman had been fighting to avoid for so long.
And beyond all that, how would Iahotep react? He was so possessive of her, so bitingly jealous. If she told him she was to be married, would he rescind his claim or simply dig his claws in deeper? Would he even allow it?
“A suitor,” Nia repeated, her voice devoid of emotion. “A good match. A good match for me or a good match for you?” Whipping her gaze back to Iaheru’s, mahogany orbs were filled with defiant anger, her fingers white-knuckled where they gripped the stem of the wineglass. “Who is it, Mother? Is it Narmer H’Haikkadad?”
A lifted brow dared the Sheifa matriarch to contradict her, jaw clenching painfully tight. “I know he was here to talk to you. Is this why?” Slowly, Nia’s head shook back and forth, the fingers of her free hand tapping impatiently on the table. “No. I don’t want to marry the head of a Hei. I don’t want to be a Sirdsett.” She’d effectively be of the same rank as her mother, the matriarch of a household she didn’t want. For a woman who loathed accountability and responsibility, it seemed the worst possible position to thrust her in beyond being the queen herself.
Her face still held that defiant tilt as she raised her chin, her posture almost childishly spiteful as she stared Iaheru down. “If I’m right, and it’s him… I won’t. I won’t do it; you can’t make me. Nefertaari should be a Sirdsett, not me. I’d only bring more ruin to Hei Haikkadad than they’ve brought upon themselves.” Nia was not as keen on Court gossip as so many of the other courtiers her age, but even she was aware of the rumors that surrounded the Hei’s monetary state. Was that what this was about? Was their union meant to be what saved Hei Haikkadad from more financial decline?
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Nia’s hands stilled on the table, body going taut when Iaheru finally admitted the reason for all of this—the choice foods, the sweet wines, the deceptively calm congeniality her mother tried to present. A suitor. It was just as she’d suspected and just as she’d feared. Her stomach clenched, her throat went dry, and for a long, shuddering moment, the woman thought she might weep. She stared at her plate, eyes hard as she let the wave of anger and uncertainty wash over her.
Marriage. While the idea itself was not one that repelled her, the idea of a marriage she didn’t choose… now, that was repulsive. Flirtatious and promiscuous she’d always been, but Neithotep was a romantic at her core. A marriage to a man she did not love, a union arranged by her parents, was one of her worst nightmares, the looming responsibility the tumultuous young noblewoman had been fighting to avoid for so long.
And beyond all that, how would Iahotep react? He was so possessive of her, so bitingly jealous. If she told him she was to be married, would he rescind his claim or simply dig his claws in deeper? Would he even allow it?
“A suitor,” Nia repeated, her voice devoid of emotion. “A good match. A good match for me or a good match for you?” Whipping her gaze back to Iaheru’s, mahogany orbs were filled with defiant anger, her fingers white-knuckled where they gripped the stem of the wineglass. “Who is it, Mother? Is it Narmer H’Haikkadad?”
A lifted brow dared the Sheifa matriarch to contradict her, jaw clenching painfully tight. “I know he was here to talk to you. Is this why?” Slowly, Nia’s head shook back and forth, the fingers of her free hand tapping impatiently on the table. “No. I don’t want to marry the head of a Hei. I don’t want to be a Sirdsett.” She’d effectively be of the same rank as her mother, the matriarch of a household she didn’t want. For a woman who loathed accountability and responsibility, it seemed the worst possible position to thrust her in beyond being the queen herself.
Her face still held that defiant tilt as she raised her chin, her posture almost childishly spiteful as she stared Iaheru down. “If I’m right, and it’s him… I won’t. I won’t do it; you can’t make me. Nefertaari should be a Sirdsett, not me. I’d only bring more ruin to Hei Haikkadad than they’ve brought upon themselves.” Nia was not as keen on Court gossip as so many of the other courtiers her age, but even she was aware of the rumors that surrounded the Hei’s monetary state. Was that what this was about? Was their union meant to be what saved Hei Haikkadad from more financial decline?
Nia’s hands stilled on the table, body going taut when Iaheru finally admitted the reason for all of this—the choice foods, the sweet wines, the deceptively calm congeniality her mother tried to present. A suitor. It was just as she’d suspected and just as she’d feared. Her stomach clenched, her throat went dry, and for a long, shuddering moment, the woman thought she might weep. She stared at her plate, eyes hard as she let the wave of anger and uncertainty wash over her.
Marriage. While the idea itself was not one that repelled her, the idea of a marriage she didn’t choose… now, that was repulsive. Flirtatious and promiscuous she’d always been, but Neithotep was a romantic at her core. A marriage to a man she did not love, a union arranged by her parents, was one of her worst nightmares, the looming responsibility the tumultuous young noblewoman had been fighting to avoid for so long.
And beyond all that, how would Iahotep react? He was so possessive of her, so bitingly jealous. If she told him she was to be married, would he rescind his claim or simply dig his claws in deeper? Would he even allow it?
“A suitor,” Nia repeated, her voice devoid of emotion. “A good match. A good match for me or a good match for you?” Whipping her gaze back to Iaheru’s, mahogany orbs were filled with defiant anger, her fingers white-knuckled where they gripped the stem of the wineglass. “Who is it, Mother? Is it Narmer H’Haikkadad?”
A lifted brow dared the Sheifa matriarch to contradict her, jaw clenching painfully tight. “I know he was here to talk to you. Is this why?” Slowly, Nia’s head shook back and forth, the fingers of her free hand tapping impatiently on the table. “No. I don’t want to marry the head of a Hei. I don’t want to be a Sirdsett.” She’d effectively be of the same rank as her mother, the matriarch of a household she didn’t want. For a woman who loathed accountability and responsibility, it seemed the worst possible position to thrust her in beyond being the queen herself.
Her face still held that defiant tilt as she raised her chin, her posture almost childishly spiteful as she stared Iaheru down. “If I’m right, and it’s him… I won’t. I won’t do it; you can’t make me. Nefertaari should be a Sirdsett, not me. I’d only bring more ruin to Hei Haikkadad than they’ve brought upon themselves.” Nia was not as keen on Court gossip as so many of the other courtiers her age, but even she was aware of the rumors that surrounded the Hei’s monetary state. Was that what this was about? Was their union meant to be what saved Hei Haikkadad from more financial decline?
Words, as pointed as they were, rolled off the woman's face in a cold sweat materializing on the periphery of her hairline. There was nothing about this that made Iaheru pleased- not her daughter's reaction, perhaps not the prospect of arranging her children's marriages. Yet, there was something inside of her, perhaps delusional intuition, that steeled her decision to have the meeting continue.
Iaheru let the woman spill in front of her, rambling onwards as she processed the shock of inevitability. Each of Neithotep's concerns, Iaheru could rebut and combat them with a counter point. There was a petulant tendency for Iaheru to simply cross her arms and demand that Neithotep do as she bid simply because Iaheru was her mother.
That would not do. Iaheru didn't think that little of herself to default to age ranking to win arguments. She didn't deem it respectable. However, her children didn't seem to respect her for rhetoric regardless of how it was delivered. Wine washed over her tongue, though it was the least of the bitterness that coated her throat. "He seemed quite smitten with you," Iaheru smiled lightly, her own newly found affection for the gentle military man almost enough to will the match into existence immediately.
She cut into a small slice of lamb, as she chewed through the fatty stripes in the marbled meat, Iaheru ruminated on what she would say next. "And you won't be Sirdsett. His nephew will be Sirdar once he comes of age. You'll merely have a sweet husband who seems to be lost in your wits." Iaheru paused, staring into her daughter's similar, but enraged eyes, "You may have to be Sirdsett for a year or two at most."
"I would never marry my daughter to a man she couldn't manipulate," Iaheru dropped her fork to punctuate this fact. She was controversially proud of this, considering the misfortune of the poor Hathesput and Iahotep, someone so frail and young married off to someone harsh and unbecoming. "And Narmer H'Haikkadad is likely your best bet for a kind, amenable man in Egypt. They're truly few and far between. Irregardless, you will always have the upper hand just because of who you are and secondly because of a prominent name."
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Words, as pointed as they were, rolled off the woman's face in a cold sweat materializing on the periphery of her hairline. There was nothing about this that made Iaheru pleased- not her daughter's reaction, perhaps not the prospect of arranging her children's marriages. Yet, there was something inside of her, perhaps delusional intuition, that steeled her decision to have the meeting continue.
Iaheru let the woman spill in front of her, rambling onwards as she processed the shock of inevitability. Each of Neithotep's concerns, Iaheru could rebut and combat them with a counter point. There was a petulant tendency for Iaheru to simply cross her arms and demand that Neithotep do as she bid simply because Iaheru was her mother.
That would not do. Iaheru didn't think that little of herself to default to age ranking to win arguments. She didn't deem it respectable. However, her children didn't seem to respect her for rhetoric regardless of how it was delivered. Wine washed over her tongue, though it was the least of the bitterness that coated her throat. "He seemed quite smitten with you," Iaheru smiled lightly, her own newly found affection for the gentle military man almost enough to will the match into existence immediately.
She cut into a small slice of lamb, as she chewed through the fatty stripes in the marbled meat, Iaheru ruminated on what she would say next. "And you won't be Sirdsett. His nephew will be Sirdar once he comes of age. You'll merely have a sweet husband who seems to be lost in your wits." Iaheru paused, staring into her daughter's similar, but enraged eyes, "You may have to be Sirdsett for a year or two at most."
"I would never marry my daughter to a man she couldn't manipulate," Iaheru dropped her fork to punctuate this fact. She was controversially proud of this, considering the misfortune of the poor Hathesput and Iahotep, someone so frail and young married off to someone harsh and unbecoming. "And Narmer H'Haikkadad is likely your best bet for a kind, amenable man in Egypt. They're truly few and far between. Irregardless, you will always have the upper hand just because of who you are and secondly because of a prominent name."
Words, as pointed as they were, rolled off the woman's face in a cold sweat materializing on the periphery of her hairline. There was nothing about this that made Iaheru pleased- not her daughter's reaction, perhaps not the prospect of arranging her children's marriages. Yet, there was something inside of her, perhaps delusional intuition, that steeled her decision to have the meeting continue.
Iaheru let the woman spill in front of her, rambling onwards as she processed the shock of inevitability. Each of Neithotep's concerns, Iaheru could rebut and combat them with a counter point. There was a petulant tendency for Iaheru to simply cross her arms and demand that Neithotep do as she bid simply because Iaheru was her mother.
That would not do. Iaheru didn't think that little of herself to default to age ranking to win arguments. She didn't deem it respectable. However, her children didn't seem to respect her for rhetoric regardless of how it was delivered. Wine washed over her tongue, though it was the least of the bitterness that coated her throat. "He seemed quite smitten with you," Iaheru smiled lightly, her own newly found affection for the gentle military man almost enough to will the match into existence immediately.
She cut into a small slice of lamb, as she chewed through the fatty stripes in the marbled meat, Iaheru ruminated on what she would say next. "And you won't be Sirdsett. His nephew will be Sirdar once he comes of age. You'll merely have a sweet husband who seems to be lost in your wits." Iaheru paused, staring into her daughter's similar, but enraged eyes, "You may have to be Sirdsett for a year or two at most."
"I would never marry my daughter to a man she couldn't manipulate," Iaheru dropped her fork to punctuate this fact. She was controversially proud of this, considering the misfortune of the poor Hathesput and Iahotep, someone so frail and young married off to someone harsh and unbecoming. "And Narmer H'Haikkadad is likely your best bet for a kind, amenable man in Egypt. They're truly few and far between. Irregardless, you will always have the upper hand just because of who you are and secondly because of a prominent name."
The disgust was plain on Nia’s face as Iaheru spoke—not necessarily disgust for Narmer himself, but for the reasons her mother had picked him. How could she do this? How could she even entertain such an offer without warning her first? It should not have surprised her, and yet it did.
Perhaps surprise wasn’t the right word. Perhaps betrayal was better.
“He does not even know me,” she snapped back at the Sirdsett’s insistence that the Sirdar was smitten with her. “And if he did, I don’t think I’d be his type. I do know he’s not mine.”
Each word Iaheru spoke only seemed to anger Neithotep further, color rising in her face and her jaw clenching tighter by the second. Why her? She wasn’t the oldest; she shouldn’t be the one married off first, especially if it wasn’t a marriage she wanted. If she and her sisters were to be bartered off like livestock, shouldn’t Nefertaari be the first to go?
“You just don’t get it, do you?” Nia said when her mother finally stopped talking, head slowly shaking back and forth. She pushed back from the table and stepped away toward the window, gazing bitterly outside. “I don’t want a man I can manipulate. I don’t want a ‘kind, amenable man’ whose ‘lost in my wits.’ I want someone I love, and someone who loves me. Someone who knows me and accepts me the way I am, that won’t force me into a position I don’t want or into a mold I don’t fit.”
The words she spoke were as much for her mother’s benefit as her own, her rant a stream of empty wants that meant nothing while the Pharaoh held her in thrall. Perhaps Narmer was a better option than Iahotep, but what guarantee did she have that the Pharaoh would release her if she wed? Somehow, she doubted that would ever be the case, and then she’d be stuck with two men she was begrudgingly beholden to instead of one.
Heated eyes flicked back toward the Sheifa matriarch, Nia’s mouth twisting into a sour mask of anger. “You know, I really thought you would actually understand that, Mother. I know that we see many things very differently, but you got to marry the man you loved. Why is it that I cannot do the same?”
Her mouth twisted further, her fist clenching at her side. “Or are you punishing me because I’m not the daughter you wanted? Is that why I’m the one being married off instead of Nef?” There was a hurt in her eyes that Neithotep tried desperately to conceal, but once exposed, it was hard to stash away again. “Are you just trying to get rid of me? Pushing me out of the way so you can spend more time on your more promising children?”
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The disgust was plain on Nia’s face as Iaheru spoke—not necessarily disgust for Narmer himself, but for the reasons her mother had picked him. How could she do this? How could she even entertain such an offer without warning her first? It should not have surprised her, and yet it did.
Perhaps surprise wasn’t the right word. Perhaps betrayal was better.
“He does not even know me,” she snapped back at the Sirdsett’s insistence that the Sirdar was smitten with her. “And if he did, I don’t think I’d be his type. I do know he’s not mine.”
Each word Iaheru spoke only seemed to anger Neithotep further, color rising in her face and her jaw clenching tighter by the second. Why her? She wasn’t the oldest; she shouldn’t be the one married off first, especially if it wasn’t a marriage she wanted. If she and her sisters were to be bartered off like livestock, shouldn’t Nefertaari be the first to go?
“You just don’t get it, do you?” Nia said when her mother finally stopped talking, head slowly shaking back and forth. She pushed back from the table and stepped away toward the window, gazing bitterly outside. “I don’t want a man I can manipulate. I don’t want a ‘kind, amenable man’ whose ‘lost in my wits.’ I want someone I love, and someone who loves me. Someone who knows me and accepts me the way I am, that won’t force me into a position I don’t want or into a mold I don’t fit.”
The words she spoke were as much for her mother’s benefit as her own, her rant a stream of empty wants that meant nothing while the Pharaoh held her in thrall. Perhaps Narmer was a better option than Iahotep, but what guarantee did she have that the Pharaoh would release her if she wed? Somehow, she doubted that would ever be the case, and then she’d be stuck with two men she was begrudgingly beholden to instead of one.
Heated eyes flicked back toward the Sheifa matriarch, Nia’s mouth twisting into a sour mask of anger. “You know, I really thought you would actually understand that, Mother. I know that we see many things very differently, but you got to marry the man you loved. Why is it that I cannot do the same?”
Her mouth twisted further, her fist clenching at her side. “Or are you punishing me because I’m not the daughter you wanted? Is that why I’m the one being married off instead of Nef?” There was a hurt in her eyes that Neithotep tried desperately to conceal, but once exposed, it was hard to stash away again. “Are you just trying to get rid of me? Pushing me out of the way so you can spend more time on your more promising children?”
The disgust was plain on Nia’s face as Iaheru spoke—not necessarily disgust for Narmer himself, but for the reasons her mother had picked him. How could she do this? How could she even entertain such an offer without warning her first? It should not have surprised her, and yet it did.
Perhaps surprise wasn’t the right word. Perhaps betrayal was better.
“He does not even know me,” she snapped back at the Sirdsett’s insistence that the Sirdar was smitten with her. “And if he did, I don’t think I’d be his type. I do know he’s not mine.”
Each word Iaheru spoke only seemed to anger Neithotep further, color rising in her face and her jaw clenching tighter by the second. Why her? She wasn’t the oldest; she shouldn’t be the one married off first, especially if it wasn’t a marriage she wanted. If she and her sisters were to be bartered off like livestock, shouldn’t Nefertaari be the first to go?
“You just don’t get it, do you?” Nia said when her mother finally stopped talking, head slowly shaking back and forth. She pushed back from the table and stepped away toward the window, gazing bitterly outside. “I don’t want a man I can manipulate. I don’t want a ‘kind, amenable man’ whose ‘lost in my wits.’ I want someone I love, and someone who loves me. Someone who knows me and accepts me the way I am, that won’t force me into a position I don’t want or into a mold I don’t fit.”
The words she spoke were as much for her mother’s benefit as her own, her rant a stream of empty wants that meant nothing while the Pharaoh held her in thrall. Perhaps Narmer was a better option than Iahotep, but what guarantee did she have that the Pharaoh would release her if she wed? Somehow, she doubted that would ever be the case, and then she’d be stuck with two men she was begrudgingly beholden to instead of one.
Heated eyes flicked back toward the Sheifa matriarch, Nia’s mouth twisting into a sour mask of anger. “You know, I really thought you would actually understand that, Mother. I know that we see many things very differently, but you got to marry the man you loved. Why is it that I cannot do the same?”
Her mouth twisted further, her fist clenching at her side. “Or are you punishing me because I’m not the daughter you wanted? Is that why I’m the one being married off instead of Nef?” There was a hurt in her eyes that Neithotep tried desperately to conceal, but once exposed, it was hard to stash away again. “Are you just trying to get rid of me? Pushing me out of the way so you can spend more time on your more promising children?”
The more she tried to explain, the more the people around her seemed to strike against her, buttressing against what she thought to be so simple. Wine had colored her cheeks, braids pulled tightly against tense temples and a throbbing need to have Neithotep understand her.
They were lost to one another, possessing entirely different Northern stars that guided them across choppy seas. Iaheru needed her daughter to understand that love did not yield to stability. Was it not a testament to Iaheru's love for her daughter to provide a better life for her through correcting the mother's mistake? Iaheru wondered for a brief moment if she had inherited her tragedy from her mother, that if her own blood had betrayed her and now her daughter. Perhaps Neithotep's stubborness and libertine inclinations were complements of her inheritance.
"You don't know that he isn't your type, Neithotep," Iaheru bit her lip, her stoicism smoking with the kindling Neithotep heaped onto a metaphorical brush fire. "You don't know if he's going to force you into a mold you don't fit!" Voice rising, Iaheru crosses one leg over the other after she brings herself closer to the table. "You've certainly forced him into a mold."
It was when her daughter brought up her own marriage that Iaheru melted, fury boiled beneath the surface of her skin. "And yet, look at what happened with the man I loved. It doesn't matter Neithotep. Do you think I wasn't forced into positions I didn't ask for!" Her jaw mimics the clench of her daughter's, Iaheru's fingers gripping the edge of a mango wood table as dilated pupils remained pried open, bulging from high cheekbones in a striking resemblance to the woman next to her. "Do you think that I consciously chose this outcome for our family!"
Iaheru rises, abruptly, from the table with her wine trembling in her hand. She feels as if she can't walk, can't speak, and she doesn't feel the need to explain what happened to Neithotep, or really anyone. Neithotep certainly didn't deserve that level of vulnerability.
In fact, no one had asked Iaheru what happened to her that night twenty years ago. No one had cared. Not even her husband who had so tenderly loved her before. No one had asked what it was like to raise a son, to touch a body that had been produced as the result of an unwanted touch. What it was like to hold her beloved son and be reminded of this intense secret and shame of a double life. That was not to change tonight.
"I'm not trying to punish you. I'm trying to protect you. None of us are safe anymore and it's my fault," Iaheru walked away swiftly, finding it impossible to look at her daughter, with her head uncharacteristically cast downwards. The revelations had constricted her chest and each breath made her ligaments ache for the past comfort she'd found in Onuphrious. With the realization it would never happen again, this ache morphed to stabbing pins and needles pressing against vessels and capillaries constricted by residual distress.
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The more she tried to explain, the more the people around her seemed to strike against her, buttressing against what she thought to be so simple. Wine had colored her cheeks, braids pulled tightly against tense temples and a throbbing need to have Neithotep understand her.
They were lost to one another, possessing entirely different Northern stars that guided them across choppy seas. Iaheru needed her daughter to understand that love did not yield to stability. Was it not a testament to Iaheru's love for her daughter to provide a better life for her through correcting the mother's mistake? Iaheru wondered for a brief moment if she had inherited her tragedy from her mother, that if her own blood had betrayed her and now her daughter. Perhaps Neithotep's stubborness and libertine inclinations were complements of her inheritance.
"You don't know that he isn't your type, Neithotep," Iaheru bit her lip, her stoicism smoking with the kindling Neithotep heaped onto a metaphorical brush fire. "You don't know if he's going to force you into a mold you don't fit!" Voice rising, Iaheru crosses one leg over the other after she brings herself closer to the table. "You've certainly forced him into a mold."
It was when her daughter brought up her own marriage that Iaheru melted, fury boiled beneath the surface of her skin. "And yet, look at what happened with the man I loved. It doesn't matter Neithotep. Do you think I wasn't forced into positions I didn't ask for!" Her jaw mimics the clench of her daughter's, Iaheru's fingers gripping the edge of a mango wood table as dilated pupils remained pried open, bulging from high cheekbones in a striking resemblance to the woman next to her. "Do you think that I consciously chose this outcome for our family!"
Iaheru rises, abruptly, from the table with her wine trembling in her hand. She feels as if she can't walk, can't speak, and she doesn't feel the need to explain what happened to Neithotep, or really anyone. Neithotep certainly didn't deserve that level of vulnerability.
In fact, no one had asked Iaheru what happened to her that night twenty years ago. No one had cared. Not even her husband who had so tenderly loved her before. No one had asked what it was like to raise a son, to touch a body that had been produced as the result of an unwanted touch. What it was like to hold her beloved son and be reminded of this intense secret and shame of a double life. That was not to change tonight.
"I'm not trying to punish you. I'm trying to protect you. None of us are safe anymore and it's my fault," Iaheru walked away swiftly, finding it impossible to look at her daughter, with her head uncharacteristically cast downwards. The revelations had constricted her chest and each breath made her ligaments ache for the past comfort she'd found in Onuphrious. With the realization it would never happen again, this ache morphed to stabbing pins and needles pressing against vessels and capillaries constricted by residual distress.
The more she tried to explain, the more the people around her seemed to strike against her, buttressing against what she thought to be so simple. Wine had colored her cheeks, braids pulled tightly against tense temples and a throbbing need to have Neithotep understand her.
They were lost to one another, possessing entirely different Northern stars that guided them across choppy seas. Iaheru needed her daughter to understand that love did not yield to stability. Was it not a testament to Iaheru's love for her daughter to provide a better life for her through correcting the mother's mistake? Iaheru wondered for a brief moment if she had inherited her tragedy from her mother, that if her own blood had betrayed her and now her daughter. Perhaps Neithotep's stubborness and libertine inclinations were complements of her inheritance.
"You don't know that he isn't your type, Neithotep," Iaheru bit her lip, her stoicism smoking with the kindling Neithotep heaped onto a metaphorical brush fire. "You don't know if he's going to force you into a mold you don't fit!" Voice rising, Iaheru crosses one leg over the other after she brings herself closer to the table. "You've certainly forced him into a mold."
It was when her daughter brought up her own marriage that Iaheru melted, fury boiled beneath the surface of her skin. "And yet, look at what happened with the man I loved. It doesn't matter Neithotep. Do you think I wasn't forced into positions I didn't ask for!" Her jaw mimics the clench of her daughter's, Iaheru's fingers gripping the edge of a mango wood table as dilated pupils remained pried open, bulging from high cheekbones in a striking resemblance to the woman next to her. "Do you think that I consciously chose this outcome for our family!"
Iaheru rises, abruptly, from the table with her wine trembling in her hand. She feels as if she can't walk, can't speak, and she doesn't feel the need to explain what happened to Neithotep, or really anyone. Neithotep certainly didn't deserve that level of vulnerability.
In fact, no one had asked Iaheru what happened to her that night twenty years ago. No one had cared. Not even her husband who had so tenderly loved her before. No one had asked what it was like to raise a son, to touch a body that had been produced as the result of an unwanted touch. What it was like to hold her beloved son and be reminded of this intense secret and shame of a double life. That was not to change tonight.
"I'm not trying to punish you. I'm trying to protect you. None of us are safe anymore and it's my fault," Iaheru walked away swiftly, finding it impossible to look at her daughter, with her head uncharacteristically cast downwards. The revelations had constricted her chest and each breath made her ligaments ache for the past comfort she'd found in Onuphrious. With the realization it would never happen again, this ache morphed to stabbing pins and needles pressing against vessels and capillaries constricted by residual distress.
Neithotep watched Iaheru as anger finally started to color her actions, that cold and calculating exterior crumbling to the fire beneath. If nothing else, she actually felt some sort of sick satisfaction in provoking such a reaction from her stoic mother, though that satisfaction was tinged with a healthy amount of guilt. She understood better than anyone what Iaheru had gone through, though luckily she had yet to bear any children from it. She took her tea religiously in prayers that would never happen, but she knew such methods could fail. But the thought of bringing Iahotep’s child into this world…
Her body shook in a profound shudder. She could never allow that to happen.
Taking a deep breath, her guilt finally overtook her satisfaction, the fight draining from her as she watched the play of emotion over the Sirdsett’s face. The last thing she wanted was to feel empathy for her mother, the woman who had denied her of so many things throughout the years, but her mind stubbornly insisted on reminding her of the things she had provided. Sure, Iaheru had never been the warmest of caretakers, and she doubted that would ever change, but Nia had never wanted for anything. She had a roof over her head, food in her belly, clothes on her back, and in spite of her constant rebellion, a mother who did her best to guide her, even when life threatened to tear the whole family to shreds. If she was being honest with herself, she had to admit (albeit silently) that she had never done anything to help ease the tension that lingered day after day in the Sheifa household. If anything, she had only added to it.
“You can’t protect me, Mother,” she heard herself say, even though the words were nearly soft enough to be inaudible. The tremble in her tone was nearly imperceptible, even if the shaking of her hands was plain for the world to see. “No one can. And it’s not your fault. It’s mine.”
Slowly, ever so slowly, Nia approached the Sheifa matriarch and placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. Her body was taut with information withheld, a secret so large it could destroy her family even further. It could destroy her future family and any prospects she might have held for them.
It could destroy her. It probably would.
“I… am sorry for what happened to you,” she said, almost reluctantly, though her speech rang with sincerity. It was an odd bond she shared with her mother, a strange link that somehow pulled them together, even if Iaheru remained unaware. Two women of the same Hei forced by two different pharaohs… She might laugh at the irony if she wasn’t one of the women affected. “I know that it wasn’t something you wanted, even if you couldn’t refuse. And I know the consequences of that night are reaching farther than I’m sure you ever thought they would.”
Many saw Neithotep H’Sheifa as a shallow, wanton girl, and that was true to a certain extent. However, the young noblewoman could be surprisingly astute, even if those moments were strung few and far between in her brief moments of lucidity. Especially recently, when the only way she could deal with the lot she’d been dealt was overindulgence in the vices she had always enjoyed so much before. Now, they were crutches, coping mechanisms, a chemical way to ensure that she didn’t abandon all hope and simply throw herself at the mercy of the rougher waters of the Nile.
“I know you didn’t choose this, and I know that if you could go back and change it, you would. And as women, choice is something we’re deprived of far too often. That is why I wish so fervently for my own choices. For the chance to take control of something, just one aspect of my life, before it’s all snatched away again.”
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Neithotep watched Iaheru as anger finally started to color her actions, that cold and calculating exterior crumbling to the fire beneath. If nothing else, she actually felt some sort of sick satisfaction in provoking such a reaction from her stoic mother, though that satisfaction was tinged with a healthy amount of guilt. She understood better than anyone what Iaheru had gone through, though luckily she had yet to bear any children from it. She took her tea religiously in prayers that would never happen, but she knew such methods could fail. But the thought of bringing Iahotep’s child into this world…
Her body shook in a profound shudder. She could never allow that to happen.
Taking a deep breath, her guilt finally overtook her satisfaction, the fight draining from her as she watched the play of emotion over the Sirdsett’s face. The last thing she wanted was to feel empathy for her mother, the woman who had denied her of so many things throughout the years, but her mind stubbornly insisted on reminding her of the things she had provided. Sure, Iaheru had never been the warmest of caretakers, and she doubted that would ever change, but Nia had never wanted for anything. She had a roof over her head, food in her belly, clothes on her back, and in spite of her constant rebellion, a mother who did her best to guide her, even when life threatened to tear the whole family to shreds. If she was being honest with herself, she had to admit (albeit silently) that she had never done anything to help ease the tension that lingered day after day in the Sheifa household. If anything, she had only added to it.
“You can’t protect me, Mother,” she heard herself say, even though the words were nearly soft enough to be inaudible. The tremble in her tone was nearly imperceptible, even if the shaking of her hands was plain for the world to see. “No one can. And it’s not your fault. It’s mine.”
Slowly, ever so slowly, Nia approached the Sheifa matriarch and placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. Her body was taut with information withheld, a secret so large it could destroy her family even further. It could destroy her future family and any prospects she might have held for them.
It could destroy her. It probably would.
“I… am sorry for what happened to you,” she said, almost reluctantly, though her speech rang with sincerity. It was an odd bond she shared with her mother, a strange link that somehow pulled them together, even if Iaheru remained unaware. Two women of the same Hei forced by two different pharaohs… She might laugh at the irony if she wasn’t one of the women affected. “I know that it wasn’t something you wanted, even if you couldn’t refuse. And I know the consequences of that night are reaching farther than I’m sure you ever thought they would.”
Many saw Neithotep H’Sheifa as a shallow, wanton girl, and that was true to a certain extent. However, the young noblewoman could be surprisingly astute, even if those moments were strung few and far between in her brief moments of lucidity. Especially recently, when the only way she could deal with the lot she’d been dealt was overindulgence in the vices she had always enjoyed so much before. Now, they were crutches, coping mechanisms, a chemical way to ensure that she didn’t abandon all hope and simply throw herself at the mercy of the rougher waters of the Nile.
“I know you didn’t choose this, and I know that if you could go back and change it, you would. And as women, choice is something we’re deprived of far too often. That is why I wish so fervently for my own choices. For the chance to take control of something, just one aspect of my life, before it’s all snatched away again.”
Neithotep watched Iaheru as anger finally started to color her actions, that cold and calculating exterior crumbling to the fire beneath. If nothing else, she actually felt some sort of sick satisfaction in provoking such a reaction from her stoic mother, though that satisfaction was tinged with a healthy amount of guilt. She understood better than anyone what Iaheru had gone through, though luckily she had yet to bear any children from it. She took her tea religiously in prayers that would never happen, but she knew such methods could fail. But the thought of bringing Iahotep’s child into this world…
Her body shook in a profound shudder. She could never allow that to happen.
Taking a deep breath, her guilt finally overtook her satisfaction, the fight draining from her as she watched the play of emotion over the Sirdsett’s face. The last thing she wanted was to feel empathy for her mother, the woman who had denied her of so many things throughout the years, but her mind stubbornly insisted on reminding her of the things she had provided. Sure, Iaheru had never been the warmest of caretakers, and she doubted that would ever change, but Nia had never wanted for anything. She had a roof over her head, food in her belly, clothes on her back, and in spite of her constant rebellion, a mother who did her best to guide her, even when life threatened to tear the whole family to shreds. If she was being honest with herself, she had to admit (albeit silently) that she had never done anything to help ease the tension that lingered day after day in the Sheifa household. If anything, she had only added to it.
“You can’t protect me, Mother,” she heard herself say, even though the words were nearly soft enough to be inaudible. The tremble in her tone was nearly imperceptible, even if the shaking of her hands was plain for the world to see. “No one can. And it’s not your fault. It’s mine.”
Slowly, ever so slowly, Nia approached the Sheifa matriarch and placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. Her body was taut with information withheld, a secret so large it could destroy her family even further. It could destroy her future family and any prospects she might have held for them.
It could destroy her. It probably would.
“I… am sorry for what happened to you,” she said, almost reluctantly, though her speech rang with sincerity. It was an odd bond she shared with her mother, a strange link that somehow pulled them together, even if Iaheru remained unaware. Two women of the same Hei forced by two different pharaohs… She might laugh at the irony if she wasn’t one of the women affected. “I know that it wasn’t something you wanted, even if you couldn’t refuse. And I know the consequences of that night are reaching farther than I’m sure you ever thought they would.”
Many saw Neithotep H’Sheifa as a shallow, wanton girl, and that was true to a certain extent. However, the young noblewoman could be surprisingly astute, even if those moments were strung few and far between in her brief moments of lucidity. Especially recently, when the only way she could deal with the lot she’d been dealt was overindulgence in the vices she had always enjoyed so much before. Now, they were crutches, coping mechanisms, a chemical way to ensure that she didn’t abandon all hope and simply throw herself at the mercy of the rougher waters of the Nile.
“I know you didn’t choose this, and I know that if you could go back and change it, you would. And as women, choice is something we’re deprived of far too often. That is why I wish so fervently for my own choices. For the chance to take control of something, just one aspect of my life, before it’s all snatched away again.”
Iaheru had not always felt this isolated. Perhaps, during a time in her younger years she could remember empathizing with the frogs that zigzagged through the reeds of the Nile. She could feel the distress emanating from her father, a man at the whims of a wife touched by madness and promiscuity. After all, Iaheru certainly internalized the shame her mother lacked. When she and Onuphrious caught each other’s gaze- whether it be their saraaya or on a dirty flat boat beyond Thebes- they’d explode in a fine golden dust of pure joy and love. Dark eyes fixated on each other’s strengths and acknowledge the flaws all the same.
Imophethatsuma had claimed more than her body for a night, he had taken with him a jewel of humanity. Iaheru was never quite the same, her eyes twinkle dimmed, her motherhood distancing from diligent care to obsession. Food never tasted the same. Her skin bristled against touch, her sleeves grew longer and her wraps constricted tighter around a face that lost luminescence. Beginning in the smallest of her capillaries and vessels, vitality returned with time and misplaced love. When the Pharaoh died, a silent pulse of gold cloaked Iaheru in security. Perhaps the repercussions of an unwanted night would remain wrapped in the Pharaohs dressings, deep within a pyramid to never witness light.
But her daughter’s words tonight, they unraveled each binding encasing the dead Pharaoh. Iaheru’s chest fluttered with surprise: the past was resurrected, unbeknownst to Iaheru, and Neithotep’s sincerity and poise startled an obsessive mother. The young wife in Iaheru was consoled, no one had ever apologized to Iaheru for what had happened, only ever heaped blame onto a painfully arched spine. It was this recognition that Iaheru yearned for, but never quite knew, and now that she had it, she wasn’t sure it brought her any consolation.
A mere night was not enough to restore the damage of twenty-two years. “There’s no use to wish the past away,” Iaheru’s left eye blinks, leaving a kohl track lining the contour of her face. Iaheru could feel the thud of her pulse in her eardrums. “And I never said I wouldn’t consider your choice, Neithotep.”
“I merely asked if you would visit the saraaya. I did not want you to accompany me on false pretenses,” Iaheru removes her daughter’s hand, holding it between two of her own, connecting with a sharp twist of pain twisting her abdomen.
Iaheru ends with a feeble smile, her eyes blurred by the smoke of the past, how pervasively it wafted from the corner of other’s lips following her name. “We can’t have secrets in this house,” Iaheru spoke in a tone barely above a whisper to prevent her voice from cracking and to maintain the binds of steely, calculated visage. She parts from her daughter, wrapping a fringed shawl tightly around stiff shoulders as she walked away in long, graceful strides.
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Iaheru had not always felt this isolated. Perhaps, during a time in her younger years she could remember empathizing with the frogs that zigzagged through the reeds of the Nile. She could feel the distress emanating from her father, a man at the whims of a wife touched by madness and promiscuity. After all, Iaheru certainly internalized the shame her mother lacked. When she and Onuphrious caught each other’s gaze- whether it be their saraaya or on a dirty flat boat beyond Thebes- they’d explode in a fine golden dust of pure joy and love. Dark eyes fixated on each other’s strengths and acknowledge the flaws all the same.
Imophethatsuma had claimed more than her body for a night, he had taken with him a jewel of humanity. Iaheru was never quite the same, her eyes twinkle dimmed, her motherhood distancing from diligent care to obsession. Food never tasted the same. Her skin bristled against touch, her sleeves grew longer and her wraps constricted tighter around a face that lost luminescence. Beginning in the smallest of her capillaries and vessels, vitality returned with time and misplaced love. When the Pharaoh died, a silent pulse of gold cloaked Iaheru in security. Perhaps the repercussions of an unwanted night would remain wrapped in the Pharaohs dressings, deep within a pyramid to never witness light.
But her daughter’s words tonight, they unraveled each binding encasing the dead Pharaoh. Iaheru’s chest fluttered with surprise: the past was resurrected, unbeknownst to Iaheru, and Neithotep’s sincerity and poise startled an obsessive mother. The young wife in Iaheru was consoled, no one had ever apologized to Iaheru for what had happened, only ever heaped blame onto a painfully arched spine. It was this recognition that Iaheru yearned for, but never quite knew, and now that she had it, she wasn’t sure it brought her any consolation.
A mere night was not enough to restore the damage of twenty-two years. “There’s no use to wish the past away,” Iaheru’s left eye blinks, leaving a kohl track lining the contour of her face. Iaheru could feel the thud of her pulse in her eardrums. “And I never said I wouldn’t consider your choice, Neithotep.”
“I merely asked if you would visit the saraaya. I did not want you to accompany me on false pretenses,” Iaheru removes her daughter’s hand, holding it between two of her own, connecting with a sharp twist of pain twisting her abdomen.
Iaheru ends with a feeble smile, her eyes blurred by the smoke of the past, how pervasively it wafted from the corner of other’s lips following her name. “We can’t have secrets in this house,” Iaheru spoke in a tone barely above a whisper to prevent her voice from cracking and to maintain the binds of steely, calculated visage. She parts from her daughter, wrapping a fringed shawl tightly around stiff shoulders as she walked away in long, graceful strides.
Iaheru had not always felt this isolated. Perhaps, during a time in her younger years she could remember empathizing with the frogs that zigzagged through the reeds of the Nile. She could feel the distress emanating from her father, a man at the whims of a wife touched by madness and promiscuity. After all, Iaheru certainly internalized the shame her mother lacked. When she and Onuphrious caught each other’s gaze- whether it be their saraaya or on a dirty flat boat beyond Thebes- they’d explode in a fine golden dust of pure joy and love. Dark eyes fixated on each other’s strengths and acknowledge the flaws all the same.
Imophethatsuma had claimed more than her body for a night, he had taken with him a jewel of humanity. Iaheru was never quite the same, her eyes twinkle dimmed, her motherhood distancing from diligent care to obsession. Food never tasted the same. Her skin bristled against touch, her sleeves grew longer and her wraps constricted tighter around a face that lost luminescence. Beginning in the smallest of her capillaries and vessels, vitality returned with time and misplaced love. When the Pharaoh died, a silent pulse of gold cloaked Iaheru in security. Perhaps the repercussions of an unwanted night would remain wrapped in the Pharaohs dressings, deep within a pyramid to never witness light.
But her daughter’s words tonight, they unraveled each binding encasing the dead Pharaoh. Iaheru’s chest fluttered with surprise: the past was resurrected, unbeknownst to Iaheru, and Neithotep’s sincerity and poise startled an obsessive mother. The young wife in Iaheru was consoled, no one had ever apologized to Iaheru for what had happened, only ever heaped blame onto a painfully arched spine. It was this recognition that Iaheru yearned for, but never quite knew, and now that she had it, she wasn’t sure it brought her any consolation.
A mere night was not enough to restore the damage of twenty-two years. “There’s no use to wish the past away,” Iaheru’s left eye blinks, leaving a kohl track lining the contour of her face. Iaheru could feel the thud of her pulse in her eardrums. “And I never said I wouldn’t consider your choice, Neithotep.”
“I merely asked if you would visit the saraaya. I did not want you to accompany me on false pretenses,” Iaheru removes her daughter’s hand, holding it between two of her own, connecting with a sharp twist of pain twisting her abdomen.
Iaheru ends with a feeble smile, her eyes blurred by the smoke of the past, how pervasively it wafted from the corner of other’s lips following her name. “We can’t have secrets in this house,” Iaheru spoke in a tone barely above a whisper to prevent her voice from cracking and to maintain the binds of steely, calculated visage. She parts from her daughter, wrapping a fringed shawl tightly around stiff shoulders as she walked away in long, graceful strides.
Neithotep knew the brief connection between she and her mother was fleeting, and she always wondered how it seemed these short connective moments always came in the wake of anger. Why did it always take the clarity of rage to humanize Iaheru, to make her more than just the obstacle standing in her way, but rather an actual woman? The jaded daughter often failed to see the person behind the carefully maintained mask the Sheifa matriarch regularly donned, but when she lost herself to emotion, it was then Nia was given sympathetic glimpses to the woman beneath.
Part of her wanted to tell Iaheru where she’d been spending so many of her nights, to watch more of that fury rise and color the Sirdsett’s face as she realized how little she truly knew of her children’s lives. Not only that, but she wanted Iaheru to know that she truly did understand—that one night could change one’s life forever, and not necessarily for the better. She wanted to reach out to her mother and try to bridge the gap that was forever growing between them, to tell her that she wasn’t alone, but as she opened her mouth to do so, that’s when Iaheru pulled away.
Opportunity gone, Nia fell silent again and tucked her mad thoughts away for another time; it was better the Sirdsett didn’t know, if only for the havoc she could wreak because of it. Her mother was a woman with little to lose, and Nia didn’t want to be the one to push her into risking what she still had left. Another time, perhaps, another fight. With their mercurial shifts in attitude toward each other, the young noblewoman doubted this would be her only opportunity.
“I will go with you to Saraaya Haikkadad,” Nia murmured as Iaheru started walking away, a humble enough concession in lieu of anything else she may have wished to say. She would accompany Iaheru, yes, but whether or not she agreed to the proposed match remained to be seen. It would take a hell of a lot of convincing to push Nia in the direction her mother wished her to go, but at least this was a start. She knew there were worse men she could be forced to spend her life with than Narmer H’Haikkadad. The sadistic man who’d already claimed her was one of them.
We can’t have secrets in this house, were Iaheru’s parting words, and Nia clenched her jaw against them. It was nothing but secrets in Hei Sheifa, and she doubted that was likely to change any time soon. That already fragile trust had been broken first by Iaheru herself, and her daughter was following closely behind. Secrets were both the glue that held them all together and the knife that tore them all apart. She doubted she was the only one among the Sheifa children who kept them, though she equally doubted any others would be of the same magnitude.
She lingered a while longer in the room, watching the door where her mother had departed. Sirdar Narmer H’Haikkadad. Sirdsett Neithotep H’Haikkadad. Perhaps there were women out there who would love to hear their names accompanied by such a title, but Nia was not one of them. At least the Pharaoh cannot make you Queen, she thought to herself as she finally made to depart, slaves quietly taking her place to clear away the remnants of dinner.
It can always be worse, Nia. It can always be worse.
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Neithotep knew the brief connection between she and her mother was fleeting, and she always wondered how it seemed these short connective moments always came in the wake of anger. Why did it always take the clarity of rage to humanize Iaheru, to make her more than just the obstacle standing in her way, but rather an actual woman? The jaded daughter often failed to see the person behind the carefully maintained mask the Sheifa matriarch regularly donned, but when she lost herself to emotion, it was then Nia was given sympathetic glimpses to the woman beneath.
Part of her wanted to tell Iaheru where she’d been spending so many of her nights, to watch more of that fury rise and color the Sirdsett’s face as she realized how little she truly knew of her children’s lives. Not only that, but she wanted Iaheru to know that she truly did understand—that one night could change one’s life forever, and not necessarily for the better. She wanted to reach out to her mother and try to bridge the gap that was forever growing between them, to tell her that she wasn’t alone, but as she opened her mouth to do so, that’s when Iaheru pulled away.
Opportunity gone, Nia fell silent again and tucked her mad thoughts away for another time; it was better the Sirdsett didn’t know, if only for the havoc she could wreak because of it. Her mother was a woman with little to lose, and Nia didn’t want to be the one to push her into risking what she still had left. Another time, perhaps, another fight. With their mercurial shifts in attitude toward each other, the young noblewoman doubted this would be her only opportunity.
“I will go with you to Saraaya Haikkadad,” Nia murmured as Iaheru started walking away, a humble enough concession in lieu of anything else she may have wished to say. She would accompany Iaheru, yes, but whether or not she agreed to the proposed match remained to be seen. It would take a hell of a lot of convincing to push Nia in the direction her mother wished her to go, but at least this was a start. She knew there were worse men she could be forced to spend her life with than Narmer H’Haikkadad. The sadistic man who’d already claimed her was one of them.
We can’t have secrets in this house, were Iaheru’s parting words, and Nia clenched her jaw against them. It was nothing but secrets in Hei Sheifa, and she doubted that was likely to change any time soon. That already fragile trust had been broken first by Iaheru herself, and her daughter was following closely behind. Secrets were both the glue that held them all together and the knife that tore them all apart. She doubted she was the only one among the Sheifa children who kept them, though she equally doubted any others would be of the same magnitude.
She lingered a while longer in the room, watching the door where her mother had departed. Sirdar Narmer H’Haikkadad. Sirdsett Neithotep H’Haikkadad. Perhaps there were women out there who would love to hear their names accompanied by such a title, but Nia was not one of them. At least the Pharaoh cannot make you Queen, she thought to herself as she finally made to depart, slaves quietly taking her place to clear away the remnants of dinner.
It can always be worse, Nia. It can always be worse.
Neithotep knew the brief connection between she and her mother was fleeting, and she always wondered how it seemed these short connective moments always came in the wake of anger. Why did it always take the clarity of rage to humanize Iaheru, to make her more than just the obstacle standing in her way, but rather an actual woman? The jaded daughter often failed to see the person behind the carefully maintained mask the Sheifa matriarch regularly donned, but when she lost herself to emotion, it was then Nia was given sympathetic glimpses to the woman beneath.
Part of her wanted to tell Iaheru where she’d been spending so many of her nights, to watch more of that fury rise and color the Sirdsett’s face as she realized how little she truly knew of her children’s lives. Not only that, but she wanted Iaheru to know that she truly did understand—that one night could change one’s life forever, and not necessarily for the better. She wanted to reach out to her mother and try to bridge the gap that was forever growing between them, to tell her that she wasn’t alone, but as she opened her mouth to do so, that’s when Iaheru pulled away.
Opportunity gone, Nia fell silent again and tucked her mad thoughts away for another time; it was better the Sirdsett didn’t know, if only for the havoc she could wreak because of it. Her mother was a woman with little to lose, and Nia didn’t want to be the one to push her into risking what she still had left. Another time, perhaps, another fight. With their mercurial shifts in attitude toward each other, the young noblewoman doubted this would be her only opportunity.
“I will go with you to Saraaya Haikkadad,” Nia murmured as Iaheru started walking away, a humble enough concession in lieu of anything else she may have wished to say. She would accompany Iaheru, yes, but whether or not she agreed to the proposed match remained to be seen. It would take a hell of a lot of convincing to push Nia in the direction her mother wished her to go, but at least this was a start. She knew there were worse men she could be forced to spend her life with than Narmer H’Haikkadad. The sadistic man who’d already claimed her was one of them.
We can’t have secrets in this house, were Iaheru’s parting words, and Nia clenched her jaw against them. It was nothing but secrets in Hei Sheifa, and she doubted that was likely to change any time soon. That already fragile trust had been broken first by Iaheru herself, and her daughter was following closely behind. Secrets were both the glue that held them all together and the knife that tore them all apart. She doubted she was the only one among the Sheifa children who kept them, though she equally doubted any others would be of the same magnitude.
She lingered a while longer in the room, watching the door where her mother had departed. Sirdar Narmer H’Haikkadad. Sirdsett Neithotep H’Haikkadad. Perhaps there were women out there who would love to hear their names accompanied by such a title, but Nia was not one of them. At least the Pharaoh cannot make you Queen, she thought to herself as she finally made to depart, slaves quietly taking her place to clear away the remnants of dinner.
It can always be worse, Nia. It can always be worse.