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Rigid shoulders were wound tightly with anxiety and the stress of a particularly difficult day at work. Ships had not arrived nor had they departed on time. She was missing the Queen's second shipment of oysters despite searching the entire storehouse for their special crates. Inventory for silks was the slightest off, but not enough to chalk it up to routine loss. Routine loss had to be minimized, though, but after such a stressful day Iaheru wasn't about to descend into an individualized fury over 20 bolts of silk.
If she were to liquidate this storehouse, a feat she had accomplished thrice before, she'd be able to purchase half of Cairo. This was the most secure of her buildings, constantly patrolled by her guards and only her most trusted vendors provided the privilege of slips. She scattered her valuables about the storehouses so as not to create liability, but this storehouse was the most active, and subsequently, the one she personally oversaw.
Iaheru found that the best way to protect her valuable trades was to expedite them. One cannot lose what has already been sold. Yet, she was in the presence of her son, here, in this storehouse, who had lost and gained the world all at once. Thinking her heart would leap seeing him here, as she did when he was but a young man, learning from his father at the time and his mother how to keep ledgers and schedule shipments, but it remained steady. It was as if her son had never been stripped of a name and slathered in a new one foreign in her mouth.
His name wasn't just foreign, it hurt. "Sutekh," she wraps him in an embrace tightly. He smelled different, of a richer incense and finer oils. Although he was raised in an environment as opulent as a palace, he wasn't as stifled by formality or the distinct fear of poison in his eggplant, or arrows through his window at night. "It has been too long," she followed, leading him through the customs house to an old desk. Papyrus was neatly stacked and separated by dyed corners. Ochre for manifests. Indigo for transactions. Green for inventory. Iaheru had stacked these on a stone countertop behind her desk, readying them to be stacked away in the locked cabinets above and condensed by her or her manager the next day. There was a tickling feeling in her ears that this meeting would run long and expected to sleep in late the next morning.
Reclining on a chaise, Iaheru had laid a light spread of refreshments, wine should Sutekh desire. She had settled on mint tea. All of her servants had been cleared for the evening for the potential heresy they might speak, so she had steeped this tea over some hot coals in a metal bin that also served to heat their feet. Though active, her circulation had deteriorated with her age, and the nights were sometimes unbearable to the tips of her toes. Set, her most loyal, and his regiment patrolled the storehouse, making sure whatever was spoken within the house would be kept within the four walls.
Sutekh had the choice of either the desk or one of the many chaises and chairs assorted in the private room Iaheru used for dealings and official business. Sparsely decorated for the Sheifa's palate, the room still boasted a subdued, professional wealth. "I hope your arm is strong and the palace hasn't put you out of practice," Iaheru sipped calmly on her tea, the dim light of capiz sconces casting intensity on an already overbearing love she held for him. "I hear you are off to war."
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Rigid shoulders were wound tightly with anxiety and the stress of a particularly difficult day at work. Ships had not arrived nor had they departed on time. She was missing the Queen's second shipment of oysters despite searching the entire storehouse for their special crates. Inventory for silks was the slightest off, but not enough to chalk it up to routine loss. Routine loss had to be minimized, though, but after such a stressful day Iaheru wasn't about to descend into an individualized fury over 20 bolts of silk.
If she were to liquidate this storehouse, a feat she had accomplished thrice before, she'd be able to purchase half of Cairo. This was the most secure of her buildings, constantly patrolled by her guards and only her most trusted vendors provided the privilege of slips. She scattered her valuables about the storehouses so as not to create liability, but this storehouse was the most active, and subsequently, the one she personally oversaw.
Iaheru found that the best way to protect her valuable trades was to expedite them. One cannot lose what has already been sold. Yet, she was in the presence of her son, here, in this storehouse, who had lost and gained the world all at once. Thinking her heart would leap seeing him here, as she did when he was but a young man, learning from his father at the time and his mother how to keep ledgers and schedule shipments, but it remained steady. It was as if her son had never been stripped of a name and slathered in a new one foreign in her mouth.
His name wasn't just foreign, it hurt. "Sutekh," she wraps him in an embrace tightly. He smelled different, of a richer incense and finer oils. Although he was raised in an environment as opulent as a palace, he wasn't as stifled by formality or the distinct fear of poison in his eggplant, or arrows through his window at night. "It has been too long," she followed, leading him through the customs house to an old desk. Papyrus was neatly stacked and separated by dyed corners. Ochre for manifests. Indigo for transactions. Green for inventory. Iaheru had stacked these on a stone countertop behind her desk, readying them to be stacked away in the locked cabinets above and condensed by her or her manager the next day. There was a tickling feeling in her ears that this meeting would run long and expected to sleep in late the next morning.
Reclining on a chaise, Iaheru had laid a light spread of refreshments, wine should Sutekh desire. She had settled on mint tea. All of her servants had been cleared for the evening for the potential heresy they might speak, so she had steeped this tea over some hot coals in a metal bin that also served to heat their feet. Though active, her circulation had deteriorated with her age, and the nights were sometimes unbearable to the tips of her toes. Set, her most loyal, and his regiment patrolled the storehouse, making sure whatever was spoken within the house would be kept within the four walls.
Sutekh had the choice of either the desk or one of the many chaises and chairs assorted in the private room Iaheru used for dealings and official business. Sparsely decorated for the Sheifa's palate, the room still boasted a subdued, professional wealth. "I hope your arm is strong and the palace hasn't put you out of practice," Iaheru sipped calmly on her tea, the dim light of capiz sconces casting intensity on an already overbearing love she held for him. "I hear you are off to war."
Rigid shoulders were wound tightly with anxiety and the stress of a particularly difficult day at work. Ships had not arrived nor had they departed on time. She was missing the Queen's second shipment of oysters despite searching the entire storehouse for their special crates. Inventory for silks was the slightest off, but not enough to chalk it up to routine loss. Routine loss had to be minimized, though, but after such a stressful day Iaheru wasn't about to descend into an individualized fury over 20 bolts of silk.
If she were to liquidate this storehouse, a feat she had accomplished thrice before, she'd be able to purchase half of Cairo. This was the most secure of her buildings, constantly patrolled by her guards and only her most trusted vendors provided the privilege of slips. She scattered her valuables about the storehouses so as not to create liability, but this storehouse was the most active, and subsequently, the one she personally oversaw.
Iaheru found that the best way to protect her valuable trades was to expedite them. One cannot lose what has already been sold. Yet, she was in the presence of her son, here, in this storehouse, who had lost and gained the world all at once. Thinking her heart would leap seeing him here, as she did when he was but a young man, learning from his father at the time and his mother how to keep ledgers and schedule shipments, but it remained steady. It was as if her son had never been stripped of a name and slathered in a new one foreign in her mouth.
His name wasn't just foreign, it hurt. "Sutekh," she wraps him in an embrace tightly. He smelled different, of a richer incense and finer oils. Although he was raised in an environment as opulent as a palace, he wasn't as stifled by formality or the distinct fear of poison in his eggplant, or arrows through his window at night. "It has been too long," she followed, leading him through the customs house to an old desk. Papyrus was neatly stacked and separated by dyed corners. Ochre for manifests. Indigo for transactions. Green for inventory. Iaheru had stacked these on a stone countertop behind her desk, readying them to be stacked away in the locked cabinets above and condensed by her or her manager the next day. There was a tickling feeling in her ears that this meeting would run long and expected to sleep in late the next morning.
Reclining on a chaise, Iaheru had laid a light spread of refreshments, wine should Sutekh desire. She had settled on mint tea. All of her servants had been cleared for the evening for the potential heresy they might speak, so she had steeped this tea over some hot coals in a metal bin that also served to heat their feet. Though active, her circulation had deteriorated with her age, and the nights were sometimes unbearable to the tips of her toes. Set, her most loyal, and his regiment patrolled the storehouse, making sure whatever was spoken within the house would be kept within the four walls.
Sutekh had the choice of either the desk or one of the many chaises and chairs assorted in the private room Iaheru used for dealings and official business. Sparsely decorated for the Sheifa's palate, the room still boasted a subdued, professional wealth. "I hope your arm is strong and the palace hasn't put you out of practice," Iaheru sipped calmly on her tea, the dim light of capiz sconces casting intensity on an already overbearing love she held for him. "I hear you are off to war."
As the evening sun dipped low in the sky, casting the world in its bright, fiery glow, the Bastard Prince of Egypt could feel an odd sort of calm settle over him. For the first time in a long while, his heart felt no more turbulent than the light ripples of the Nile lapping against the sides of the barge as it slipped into an all too familiar dock. The young man hadn’t thought that this level of internal peace was possible any longer. Not when his existence now felt as if he was caught up in an inescapable, chaotic and cruel storm. Until this very moment, he had felt helpless to the how the winds of fate blew him about as they worked with the harsh waves of reality made ever effort to drown him for daring to dream that there would ever be a safe place to come to port again.
He had now found that safe place.
When the Prince was younger, the storehouse had always been a safe haven. It was the one place he could go with his parents and not have to worry about the chaos of the Saraaya following them. As he stepped off the royal barge, borrowed from the half-sister he didn’t know he had until a scant two months ago, he was overcome with all the heartwarming memories that he had of this building. Glancing towards the hall that led to the labyrinth within, he could remember trailing after his father, desperately trying to keep up with the older man as he taught his son the importance of trade and commerce. Sutekh knew that just down the corridor was a grand office with a small desk in the corner of it where the boy would sit and focus on his studies as Onuphrious conducted business; quietly exposing the boy to such dealings before he was old enough to truly understand what was occurring. The smallest of smiles crept onto his face as these memories and countless others flashed through his mind. It faded though as the recollections of the only man he had ever called ‘Father’ also stirred up more recent memories… ones that tainted all the ones that came before. Memories that were so vile and rotten that they twisted the good ones, leaving Sutekh with a sickening knot in his stomach.
As the smile faded, he tried to not let himself recall the lessons he had with Onuphrious here as the young man left the dock, making his way into the storehouse. The building was a maze of passages with various meeting rooms and cavernous stock rooms that were difficult to navigate on the best of days. Everything was so scattered and bordered on nonsensical, all to deter any thieves who were clever enough to get past the litany of armed guards surrounding the building. There was an order to it, of course, but that was a treasured secret of the Sheifa family. This hadn’t been much of a threat in recent years, not after several nasty rumors had circulated surrounding how the last men to try had been sent to the prison with mashed hands.
However, Sutekh was able to find his way through the corridors with ease. This was due in part to the fact that his journey was unimpeded by the men who could recall when the boy was free to travel hear whenever he wished and not just under the cover of dusk. His pace was brisk and his glances at the soldiers lining the halls were brief. Maybe a lifetime ago, he may have ignored them entirely, but an uneasiness had been placed in the young man since discovering the truth of his bloodline. Fellow soldiers were no longer merely brothers-in-arms or valued servants that provided safety. No, his change in status had warped his view of those who wielded spears and swords. Every clenched fist could carry orders from the Pharaoh who hated the boy who had the audacity to merely exist. For Sutekh, soldiers were no longer symbols of safety, not even if they were firmly in his family’s employ.
Though, just like Onuphrious, that was something that he did not want to think about. Not when those soldiers reminded him of the uncertainty that came with his own recent promotion in the military and his precarious position in the household of a general.
It seemed to be that everything in this building was seemingly being tainted with the bitter taste of his bastard blood, but Sutekh knew that there was one room here that he could rid himself of the sourness. There was one space where everything could seem right. It was not that difficult to understand how a space could have that power when Sutekh came to a sudden halt outside a rather ornate door with more soldiers stationed beside it than elsewhere in the building. He knocked sharply on the decorated wood, letting the person within know that at long last her boy had arrived. Sutekh didn’t wait for an answer though, he couldn’t. Not after hearing the faintest of noises just beyond the door and the prospect of reuniting with the person on the other side was far too tantalizing to wait another moment. Surely, she would forgive his rudeness, seeing it for the eagerness that it was.
After all, he could never do wrong in her eyes.
“Mother,” Sutekh said quietly, his voice almost full of disbelief that this reunion was even happening. That didn’t stop him from moving forward to accept Iaheru’s open, loving embrace. The young man held his mother tight, tighter than most sons at his age should, but Sutekh couldn’t help it. He had missed her. The prince had missed her more than he had missed his youngest sister, his father, and… Ra almighty, almost as much as the entirety of the life he had left behind when he was sent to Cairo that fateful night. After all, how could he not? She was his mother and they had been forced apart for two months. Two long, dreadful months trying to make sense of a new life that he didn’t belong in which was only made worse by the endless questions that only she held the answers to.
He quietly nodded at the statement that it had been far too long since the pair had seen each other. It was true and simple enough that it needed no more elaboration. Not when these two months had felt more like two years with all that had occurred in that short period of time.
Sutekh was very reluctant to let go, almost as if some childish part of him feared that the separation would be another extended one, but when his mother moved away the boy didn’t protest. In fact, he tried to appear unbothered as if the simple moment of familial love hadn’t happened in the first place. It was a false shield of bravery that Iaheru would be able to see right through, knowing her oldest son. She knew the boy well enough to see through the veil of calm momentarily slipped in order to give way to the slight look of worry and fear that had seemingly been etched into his face since moving into the palace. He didn’t even realize that the now-familiar paranoid thoughts that echoed about in his head allowed for this to happen. He had just gotten so used to them that they were his new normal.
Which was no different than the near-constant pang in his stomach that roared to life when a delicious smell made its way to the boy. Sutekh turned slightly to see a small platter of food at the center of the configuration of chaises. Oh, how his mouth practically watered at the sight of it. A golden plate was stacked high with his favorites: figs and dates; skewers of light proteins ranging from lamb, beef, fish and every kind of meat in between; cheese spreads set out among artisan bread and all sorts of honied treats scattered about. He couldn’t pull his eyes off of it as his stomach grumbled, surely loud enough that Iaheru would be able to hear it. Sutekh knew that unlike foods at the palace, these snacks would be safe for him to eat. After all, the woman’s loyalties truly lied with her children, all of them, and not with just the Pharaoh. He trusted that she would never dare to dream of harm the boy who had always been the apple of her eye. This simple fact was almost enough to encourage the boy to pounce upon the platter like a cat making a kill, but he forced himself to keep it together long enough to gracefully sit down in the plush chair across from his mother.
It was only after Sutekh poured himself the smallest amount of wine,(heavily watering it down) did he dare to reach for the platter set before him. He did not want to alert Iaheru how worried he was about the threat of poison in his sister’s household, so he gingerly picked up one of the lamb skewers. It was his hope that he didn’t come off too eager to pick the little cubes off of the stick and pop them into his mouth. Sutekh thought that it was nearly impossible to not scarf down the food, but his desire to reassure his mother that he was fine was enough to keep him restrained for the moment. Between the rage that she surely suffered at the hands of Onuphrious, the frustration that came with training Hena, and general stress that had followed in the wake of Sutekh’s removal from the household, she surely did not need fears of her son starving to death to worry about as well. Little did the middle child know that he had already been betrayed by his own rumbling stomach and his decision to reach for the meats rather than the sweets. That alone was out of character for him given how much of a sweet tooth he had had while living in the Sheifa household.
Sutekh became aware of just how poor of a job he was doing when the older woman finished questioning him about the rumors of him going to war. Only then did the boy realize that had quickly downed two of the meat skewers and already reaching for his third. Sutekh’s cheeks flushed a bright red when he became aware of his actions. Quickly, he pulled his hand back and disguised his eagerness with a white lie, “My apologies, they just don’t make them the same way in the Palace.” It was simple enough that Sutekh thought that Iaheru would buy it. After all, in a weird sort of way, it was true as Sutekh had never had to fear them being poisoned when he lived at home.
Either way, Sutekh was glad that his mother had offered him a distraction of sorts. Even though talk of his promotion was not something that Sutekh would have been eager to discuss, he latched onto it. That way, at least, he would be able to keep his mind off of the food in front of him. “It would take more than a crown to put me out of practice, mother.” Sutekh quipped back with the faintest hint of a smile. He could remember all the times he had begged her to be let out of his lessons so he could go practice archery in the courtyard. He might have been weaker than he had been two months ago, but his arm was just as strong as ever. Especially when it was an excellent distraction from the politics that he found himself caught up in and an excellent stress reliever.
For the longest time, Sutekh had thought that this love of his for the bow and arrow stemmed from the stories of conquests and glories that he had grown up with. Recently though, he had begun to wonder that if there was a deeper reason for his lifelong desire to join the military. Could this be his father’s blood showing? After all, like the Sheifa children, Sutekh had taken after his mother’s looks. Imopehatsuma had to appear in him in other ways and it was well-known that the former Pharaoh had been the epitome of a warrior-king. It was more than plausible for this to be true, but Sutekh would never know. Not until he reunited with the man he never had the chance to call ‘Father’ in the underworld.
Regardless, Sutekh would like to think of the military as a way to connect with his father he would otherwise never personally know. Or at least that was what he had thought he could do before the current Pharaoh had corrupted this love of Sutekh’s. “It is true. Our King of Kings has personally promoted me to the rank of Deputy-General. I am to report to the battlefield alongside the rest of the Naddar Harakat during the muster.” The boy’s voice was solemn as he conveyed the news to his mother. Even though this was the sort of thing that would have excited the boy to no end a few months ago, this was no longer the case. Both he and his mother knew that Pharaohs were not the sort of people to give gifts freely, especially powerful ones that held the possibility of Sutekh forming his own Hei if he could convince 100 men to profess their loyalty to them. Not when the receipt had the blood needed to stake a claim to the throne. It didn’t matter if the newly appointed officer was vocal in his desire to return to the Sheifa household, not steal the crown from his younger sister. Iahotep was not a politician, he was a soldier. Every action he made must be treated as such.
Every instinct in Sutekh told him that he should not report to the muster, but he couldn’t deny the wishes of the Pharaoh. The boy had no choice in the matter.
As the conversation dulled for a moment as this harsh reality lingered in the air, a lurking question pulled himself to the forefront of his mind. This was one that been plaguing him for months, ever since he learned the truth of his parentage and came to begrudgingly accept it. It was something that was always with him, but he had no one to voice it to. Not when the only person who would be willing to give him any sort of answer had been six when their father had died. He was afraid to seek out others who might have known the answer as him demonstrating the slightest interest in the subject might have triggered the ire of Istheperu or Iahotep. However, he was free to ask now. Yet, he was still afraid.
Afraid that he would upset Iaheru.
Afraid that he would disrupt the peaceful calm he had so longed for.
Afraid of the truth.
However, Sutekh had to know. He couldn’t go his entire life ignoring the half of him that had caused so much pain without him lifting a single finger. It was only right that the boy learned the truth about his father… and himself. “Mother?” He cautiously asked, voice quavering slightly as the bastard born from such an honorable and proud woman tried to find a way to convey all the mysteries that he wanted the answers to in a single sentence, “Am I like him?” His eyes darted up to catch her gaze, silently pleading for her to tell him the truth as no one knew Imopehatsuma like she once had. Only she had seen the side of the man that Sutekh feared the most and she would have been able to see if that side of him could come roaring to the surface or if he had been spared from the monster blood that had encouraged the Pharaoh to take what wasn’t his and bring about Sutekh into the world.
He just had to know.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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As the evening sun dipped low in the sky, casting the world in its bright, fiery glow, the Bastard Prince of Egypt could feel an odd sort of calm settle over him. For the first time in a long while, his heart felt no more turbulent than the light ripples of the Nile lapping against the sides of the barge as it slipped into an all too familiar dock. The young man hadn’t thought that this level of internal peace was possible any longer. Not when his existence now felt as if he was caught up in an inescapable, chaotic and cruel storm. Until this very moment, he had felt helpless to the how the winds of fate blew him about as they worked with the harsh waves of reality made ever effort to drown him for daring to dream that there would ever be a safe place to come to port again.
He had now found that safe place.
When the Prince was younger, the storehouse had always been a safe haven. It was the one place he could go with his parents and not have to worry about the chaos of the Saraaya following them. As he stepped off the royal barge, borrowed from the half-sister he didn’t know he had until a scant two months ago, he was overcome with all the heartwarming memories that he had of this building. Glancing towards the hall that led to the labyrinth within, he could remember trailing after his father, desperately trying to keep up with the older man as he taught his son the importance of trade and commerce. Sutekh knew that just down the corridor was a grand office with a small desk in the corner of it where the boy would sit and focus on his studies as Onuphrious conducted business; quietly exposing the boy to such dealings before he was old enough to truly understand what was occurring. The smallest of smiles crept onto his face as these memories and countless others flashed through his mind. It faded though as the recollections of the only man he had ever called ‘Father’ also stirred up more recent memories… ones that tainted all the ones that came before. Memories that were so vile and rotten that they twisted the good ones, leaving Sutekh with a sickening knot in his stomach.
As the smile faded, he tried to not let himself recall the lessons he had with Onuphrious here as the young man left the dock, making his way into the storehouse. The building was a maze of passages with various meeting rooms and cavernous stock rooms that were difficult to navigate on the best of days. Everything was so scattered and bordered on nonsensical, all to deter any thieves who were clever enough to get past the litany of armed guards surrounding the building. There was an order to it, of course, but that was a treasured secret of the Sheifa family. This hadn’t been much of a threat in recent years, not after several nasty rumors had circulated surrounding how the last men to try had been sent to the prison with mashed hands.
However, Sutekh was able to find his way through the corridors with ease. This was due in part to the fact that his journey was unimpeded by the men who could recall when the boy was free to travel hear whenever he wished and not just under the cover of dusk. His pace was brisk and his glances at the soldiers lining the halls were brief. Maybe a lifetime ago, he may have ignored them entirely, but an uneasiness had been placed in the young man since discovering the truth of his bloodline. Fellow soldiers were no longer merely brothers-in-arms or valued servants that provided safety. No, his change in status had warped his view of those who wielded spears and swords. Every clenched fist could carry orders from the Pharaoh who hated the boy who had the audacity to merely exist. For Sutekh, soldiers were no longer symbols of safety, not even if they were firmly in his family’s employ.
Though, just like Onuphrious, that was something that he did not want to think about. Not when those soldiers reminded him of the uncertainty that came with his own recent promotion in the military and his precarious position in the household of a general.
It seemed to be that everything in this building was seemingly being tainted with the bitter taste of his bastard blood, but Sutekh knew that there was one room here that he could rid himself of the sourness. There was one space where everything could seem right. It was not that difficult to understand how a space could have that power when Sutekh came to a sudden halt outside a rather ornate door with more soldiers stationed beside it than elsewhere in the building. He knocked sharply on the decorated wood, letting the person within know that at long last her boy had arrived. Sutekh didn’t wait for an answer though, he couldn’t. Not after hearing the faintest of noises just beyond the door and the prospect of reuniting with the person on the other side was far too tantalizing to wait another moment. Surely, she would forgive his rudeness, seeing it for the eagerness that it was.
After all, he could never do wrong in her eyes.
“Mother,” Sutekh said quietly, his voice almost full of disbelief that this reunion was even happening. That didn’t stop him from moving forward to accept Iaheru’s open, loving embrace. The young man held his mother tight, tighter than most sons at his age should, but Sutekh couldn’t help it. He had missed her. The prince had missed her more than he had missed his youngest sister, his father, and… Ra almighty, almost as much as the entirety of the life he had left behind when he was sent to Cairo that fateful night. After all, how could he not? She was his mother and they had been forced apart for two months. Two long, dreadful months trying to make sense of a new life that he didn’t belong in which was only made worse by the endless questions that only she held the answers to.
He quietly nodded at the statement that it had been far too long since the pair had seen each other. It was true and simple enough that it needed no more elaboration. Not when these two months had felt more like two years with all that had occurred in that short period of time.
Sutekh was very reluctant to let go, almost as if some childish part of him feared that the separation would be another extended one, but when his mother moved away the boy didn’t protest. In fact, he tried to appear unbothered as if the simple moment of familial love hadn’t happened in the first place. It was a false shield of bravery that Iaheru would be able to see right through, knowing her oldest son. She knew the boy well enough to see through the veil of calm momentarily slipped in order to give way to the slight look of worry and fear that had seemingly been etched into his face since moving into the palace. He didn’t even realize that the now-familiar paranoid thoughts that echoed about in his head allowed for this to happen. He had just gotten so used to them that they were his new normal.
Which was no different than the near-constant pang in his stomach that roared to life when a delicious smell made its way to the boy. Sutekh turned slightly to see a small platter of food at the center of the configuration of chaises. Oh, how his mouth practically watered at the sight of it. A golden plate was stacked high with his favorites: figs and dates; skewers of light proteins ranging from lamb, beef, fish and every kind of meat in between; cheese spreads set out among artisan bread and all sorts of honied treats scattered about. He couldn’t pull his eyes off of it as his stomach grumbled, surely loud enough that Iaheru would be able to hear it. Sutekh knew that unlike foods at the palace, these snacks would be safe for him to eat. After all, the woman’s loyalties truly lied with her children, all of them, and not with just the Pharaoh. He trusted that she would never dare to dream of harm the boy who had always been the apple of her eye. This simple fact was almost enough to encourage the boy to pounce upon the platter like a cat making a kill, but he forced himself to keep it together long enough to gracefully sit down in the plush chair across from his mother.
It was only after Sutekh poured himself the smallest amount of wine,(heavily watering it down) did he dare to reach for the platter set before him. He did not want to alert Iaheru how worried he was about the threat of poison in his sister’s household, so he gingerly picked up one of the lamb skewers. It was his hope that he didn’t come off too eager to pick the little cubes off of the stick and pop them into his mouth. Sutekh thought that it was nearly impossible to not scarf down the food, but his desire to reassure his mother that he was fine was enough to keep him restrained for the moment. Between the rage that she surely suffered at the hands of Onuphrious, the frustration that came with training Hena, and general stress that had followed in the wake of Sutekh’s removal from the household, she surely did not need fears of her son starving to death to worry about as well. Little did the middle child know that he had already been betrayed by his own rumbling stomach and his decision to reach for the meats rather than the sweets. That alone was out of character for him given how much of a sweet tooth he had had while living in the Sheifa household.
Sutekh became aware of just how poor of a job he was doing when the older woman finished questioning him about the rumors of him going to war. Only then did the boy realize that had quickly downed two of the meat skewers and already reaching for his third. Sutekh’s cheeks flushed a bright red when he became aware of his actions. Quickly, he pulled his hand back and disguised his eagerness with a white lie, “My apologies, they just don’t make them the same way in the Palace.” It was simple enough that Sutekh thought that Iaheru would buy it. After all, in a weird sort of way, it was true as Sutekh had never had to fear them being poisoned when he lived at home.
Either way, Sutekh was glad that his mother had offered him a distraction of sorts. Even though talk of his promotion was not something that Sutekh would have been eager to discuss, he latched onto it. That way, at least, he would be able to keep his mind off of the food in front of him. “It would take more than a crown to put me out of practice, mother.” Sutekh quipped back with the faintest hint of a smile. He could remember all the times he had begged her to be let out of his lessons so he could go practice archery in the courtyard. He might have been weaker than he had been two months ago, but his arm was just as strong as ever. Especially when it was an excellent distraction from the politics that he found himself caught up in and an excellent stress reliever.
For the longest time, Sutekh had thought that this love of his for the bow and arrow stemmed from the stories of conquests and glories that he had grown up with. Recently though, he had begun to wonder that if there was a deeper reason for his lifelong desire to join the military. Could this be his father’s blood showing? After all, like the Sheifa children, Sutekh had taken after his mother’s looks. Imopehatsuma had to appear in him in other ways and it was well-known that the former Pharaoh had been the epitome of a warrior-king. It was more than plausible for this to be true, but Sutekh would never know. Not until he reunited with the man he never had the chance to call ‘Father’ in the underworld.
Regardless, Sutekh would like to think of the military as a way to connect with his father he would otherwise never personally know. Or at least that was what he had thought he could do before the current Pharaoh had corrupted this love of Sutekh’s. “It is true. Our King of Kings has personally promoted me to the rank of Deputy-General. I am to report to the battlefield alongside the rest of the Naddar Harakat during the muster.” The boy’s voice was solemn as he conveyed the news to his mother. Even though this was the sort of thing that would have excited the boy to no end a few months ago, this was no longer the case. Both he and his mother knew that Pharaohs were not the sort of people to give gifts freely, especially powerful ones that held the possibility of Sutekh forming his own Hei if he could convince 100 men to profess their loyalty to them. Not when the receipt had the blood needed to stake a claim to the throne. It didn’t matter if the newly appointed officer was vocal in his desire to return to the Sheifa household, not steal the crown from his younger sister. Iahotep was not a politician, he was a soldier. Every action he made must be treated as such.
Every instinct in Sutekh told him that he should not report to the muster, but he couldn’t deny the wishes of the Pharaoh. The boy had no choice in the matter.
As the conversation dulled for a moment as this harsh reality lingered in the air, a lurking question pulled himself to the forefront of his mind. This was one that been plaguing him for months, ever since he learned the truth of his parentage and came to begrudgingly accept it. It was something that was always with him, but he had no one to voice it to. Not when the only person who would be willing to give him any sort of answer had been six when their father had died. He was afraid to seek out others who might have known the answer as him demonstrating the slightest interest in the subject might have triggered the ire of Istheperu or Iahotep. However, he was free to ask now. Yet, he was still afraid.
Afraid that he would upset Iaheru.
Afraid that he would disrupt the peaceful calm he had so longed for.
Afraid of the truth.
However, Sutekh had to know. He couldn’t go his entire life ignoring the half of him that had caused so much pain without him lifting a single finger. It was only right that the boy learned the truth about his father… and himself. “Mother?” He cautiously asked, voice quavering slightly as the bastard born from such an honorable and proud woman tried to find a way to convey all the mysteries that he wanted the answers to in a single sentence, “Am I like him?” His eyes darted up to catch her gaze, silently pleading for her to tell him the truth as no one knew Imopehatsuma like she once had. Only she had seen the side of the man that Sutekh feared the most and she would have been able to see if that side of him could come roaring to the surface or if he had been spared from the monster blood that had encouraged the Pharaoh to take what wasn’t his and bring about Sutekh into the world.
He just had to know.
As the evening sun dipped low in the sky, casting the world in its bright, fiery glow, the Bastard Prince of Egypt could feel an odd sort of calm settle over him. For the first time in a long while, his heart felt no more turbulent than the light ripples of the Nile lapping against the sides of the barge as it slipped into an all too familiar dock. The young man hadn’t thought that this level of internal peace was possible any longer. Not when his existence now felt as if he was caught up in an inescapable, chaotic and cruel storm. Until this very moment, he had felt helpless to the how the winds of fate blew him about as they worked with the harsh waves of reality made ever effort to drown him for daring to dream that there would ever be a safe place to come to port again.
He had now found that safe place.
When the Prince was younger, the storehouse had always been a safe haven. It was the one place he could go with his parents and not have to worry about the chaos of the Saraaya following them. As he stepped off the royal barge, borrowed from the half-sister he didn’t know he had until a scant two months ago, he was overcome with all the heartwarming memories that he had of this building. Glancing towards the hall that led to the labyrinth within, he could remember trailing after his father, desperately trying to keep up with the older man as he taught his son the importance of trade and commerce. Sutekh knew that just down the corridor was a grand office with a small desk in the corner of it where the boy would sit and focus on his studies as Onuphrious conducted business; quietly exposing the boy to such dealings before he was old enough to truly understand what was occurring. The smallest of smiles crept onto his face as these memories and countless others flashed through his mind. It faded though as the recollections of the only man he had ever called ‘Father’ also stirred up more recent memories… ones that tainted all the ones that came before. Memories that were so vile and rotten that they twisted the good ones, leaving Sutekh with a sickening knot in his stomach.
As the smile faded, he tried to not let himself recall the lessons he had with Onuphrious here as the young man left the dock, making his way into the storehouse. The building was a maze of passages with various meeting rooms and cavernous stock rooms that were difficult to navigate on the best of days. Everything was so scattered and bordered on nonsensical, all to deter any thieves who were clever enough to get past the litany of armed guards surrounding the building. There was an order to it, of course, but that was a treasured secret of the Sheifa family. This hadn’t been much of a threat in recent years, not after several nasty rumors had circulated surrounding how the last men to try had been sent to the prison with mashed hands.
However, Sutekh was able to find his way through the corridors with ease. This was due in part to the fact that his journey was unimpeded by the men who could recall when the boy was free to travel hear whenever he wished and not just under the cover of dusk. His pace was brisk and his glances at the soldiers lining the halls were brief. Maybe a lifetime ago, he may have ignored them entirely, but an uneasiness had been placed in the young man since discovering the truth of his bloodline. Fellow soldiers were no longer merely brothers-in-arms or valued servants that provided safety. No, his change in status had warped his view of those who wielded spears and swords. Every clenched fist could carry orders from the Pharaoh who hated the boy who had the audacity to merely exist. For Sutekh, soldiers were no longer symbols of safety, not even if they were firmly in his family’s employ.
Though, just like Onuphrious, that was something that he did not want to think about. Not when those soldiers reminded him of the uncertainty that came with his own recent promotion in the military and his precarious position in the household of a general.
It seemed to be that everything in this building was seemingly being tainted with the bitter taste of his bastard blood, but Sutekh knew that there was one room here that he could rid himself of the sourness. There was one space where everything could seem right. It was not that difficult to understand how a space could have that power when Sutekh came to a sudden halt outside a rather ornate door with more soldiers stationed beside it than elsewhere in the building. He knocked sharply on the decorated wood, letting the person within know that at long last her boy had arrived. Sutekh didn’t wait for an answer though, he couldn’t. Not after hearing the faintest of noises just beyond the door and the prospect of reuniting with the person on the other side was far too tantalizing to wait another moment. Surely, she would forgive his rudeness, seeing it for the eagerness that it was.
After all, he could never do wrong in her eyes.
“Mother,” Sutekh said quietly, his voice almost full of disbelief that this reunion was even happening. That didn’t stop him from moving forward to accept Iaheru’s open, loving embrace. The young man held his mother tight, tighter than most sons at his age should, but Sutekh couldn’t help it. He had missed her. The prince had missed her more than he had missed his youngest sister, his father, and… Ra almighty, almost as much as the entirety of the life he had left behind when he was sent to Cairo that fateful night. After all, how could he not? She was his mother and they had been forced apart for two months. Two long, dreadful months trying to make sense of a new life that he didn’t belong in which was only made worse by the endless questions that only she held the answers to.
He quietly nodded at the statement that it had been far too long since the pair had seen each other. It was true and simple enough that it needed no more elaboration. Not when these two months had felt more like two years with all that had occurred in that short period of time.
Sutekh was very reluctant to let go, almost as if some childish part of him feared that the separation would be another extended one, but when his mother moved away the boy didn’t protest. In fact, he tried to appear unbothered as if the simple moment of familial love hadn’t happened in the first place. It was a false shield of bravery that Iaheru would be able to see right through, knowing her oldest son. She knew the boy well enough to see through the veil of calm momentarily slipped in order to give way to the slight look of worry and fear that had seemingly been etched into his face since moving into the palace. He didn’t even realize that the now-familiar paranoid thoughts that echoed about in his head allowed for this to happen. He had just gotten so used to them that they were his new normal.
Which was no different than the near-constant pang in his stomach that roared to life when a delicious smell made its way to the boy. Sutekh turned slightly to see a small platter of food at the center of the configuration of chaises. Oh, how his mouth practically watered at the sight of it. A golden plate was stacked high with his favorites: figs and dates; skewers of light proteins ranging from lamb, beef, fish and every kind of meat in between; cheese spreads set out among artisan bread and all sorts of honied treats scattered about. He couldn’t pull his eyes off of it as his stomach grumbled, surely loud enough that Iaheru would be able to hear it. Sutekh knew that unlike foods at the palace, these snacks would be safe for him to eat. After all, the woman’s loyalties truly lied with her children, all of them, and not with just the Pharaoh. He trusted that she would never dare to dream of harm the boy who had always been the apple of her eye. This simple fact was almost enough to encourage the boy to pounce upon the platter like a cat making a kill, but he forced himself to keep it together long enough to gracefully sit down in the plush chair across from his mother.
It was only after Sutekh poured himself the smallest amount of wine,(heavily watering it down) did he dare to reach for the platter set before him. He did not want to alert Iaheru how worried he was about the threat of poison in his sister’s household, so he gingerly picked up one of the lamb skewers. It was his hope that he didn’t come off too eager to pick the little cubes off of the stick and pop them into his mouth. Sutekh thought that it was nearly impossible to not scarf down the food, but his desire to reassure his mother that he was fine was enough to keep him restrained for the moment. Between the rage that she surely suffered at the hands of Onuphrious, the frustration that came with training Hena, and general stress that had followed in the wake of Sutekh’s removal from the household, she surely did not need fears of her son starving to death to worry about as well. Little did the middle child know that he had already been betrayed by his own rumbling stomach and his decision to reach for the meats rather than the sweets. That alone was out of character for him given how much of a sweet tooth he had had while living in the Sheifa household.
Sutekh became aware of just how poor of a job he was doing when the older woman finished questioning him about the rumors of him going to war. Only then did the boy realize that had quickly downed two of the meat skewers and already reaching for his third. Sutekh’s cheeks flushed a bright red when he became aware of his actions. Quickly, he pulled his hand back and disguised his eagerness with a white lie, “My apologies, they just don’t make them the same way in the Palace.” It was simple enough that Sutekh thought that Iaheru would buy it. After all, in a weird sort of way, it was true as Sutekh had never had to fear them being poisoned when he lived at home.
Either way, Sutekh was glad that his mother had offered him a distraction of sorts. Even though talk of his promotion was not something that Sutekh would have been eager to discuss, he latched onto it. That way, at least, he would be able to keep his mind off of the food in front of him. “It would take more than a crown to put me out of practice, mother.” Sutekh quipped back with the faintest hint of a smile. He could remember all the times he had begged her to be let out of his lessons so he could go practice archery in the courtyard. He might have been weaker than he had been two months ago, but his arm was just as strong as ever. Especially when it was an excellent distraction from the politics that he found himself caught up in and an excellent stress reliever.
For the longest time, Sutekh had thought that this love of his for the bow and arrow stemmed from the stories of conquests and glories that he had grown up with. Recently though, he had begun to wonder that if there was a deeper reason for his lifelong desire to join the military. Could this be his father’s blood showing? After all, like the Sheifa children, Sutekh had taken after his mother’s looks. Imopehatsuma had to appear in him in other ways and it was well-known that the former Pharaoh had been the epitome of a warrior-king. It was more than plausible for this to be true, but Sutekh would never know. Not until he reunited with the man he never had the chance to call ‘Father’ in the underworld.
Regardless, Sutekh would like to think of the military as a way to connect with his father he would otherwise never personally know. Or at least that was what he had thought he could do before the current Pharaoh had corrupted this love of Sutekh’s. “It is true. Our King of Kings has personally promoted me to the rank of Deputy-General. I am to report to the battlefield alongside the rest of the Naddar Harakat during the muster.” The boy’s voice was solemn as he conveyed the news to his mother. Even though this was the sort of thing that would have excited the boy to no end a few months ago, this was no longer the case. Both he and his mother knew that Pharaohs were not the sort of people to give gifts freely, especially powerful ones that held the possibility of Sutekh forming his own Hei if he could convince 100 men to profess their loyalty to them. Not when the receipt had the blood needed to stake a claim to the throne. It didn’t matter if the newly appointed officer was vocal in his desire to return to the Sheifa household, not steal the crown from his younger sister. Iahotep was not a politician, he was a soldier. Every action he made must be treated as such.
Every instinct in Sutekh told him that he should not report to the muster, but he couldn’t deny the wishes of the Pharaoh. The boy had no choice in the matter.
As the conversation dulled for a moment as this harsh reality lingered in the air, a lurking question pulled himself to the forefront of his mind. This was one that been plaguing him for months, ever since he learned the truth of his parentage and came to begrudgingly accept it. It was something that was always with him, but he had no one to voice it to. Not when the only person who would be willing to give him any sort of answer had been six when their father had died. He was afraid to seek out others who might have known the answer as him demonstrating the slightest interest in the subject might have triggered the ire of Istheperu or Iahotep. However, he was free to ask now. Yet, he was still afraid.
Afraid that he would upset Iaheru.
Afraid that he would disrupt the peaceful calm he had so longed for.
Afraid of the truth.
However, Sutekh had to know. He couldn’t go his entire life ignoring the half of him that had caused so much pain without him lifting a single finger. It was only right that the boy learned the truth about his father… and himself. “Mother?” He cautiously asked, voice quavering slightly as the bastard born from such an honorable and proud woman tried to find a way to convey all the mysteries that he wanted the answers to in a single sentence, “Am I like him?” His eyes darted up to catch her gaze, silently pleading for her to tell him the truth as no one knew Imopehatsuma like she once had. Only she had seen the side of the man that Sutekh feared the most and she would have been able to see if that side of him could come roaring to the surface or if he had been spared from the monster blood that had encouraged the Pharaoh to take what wasn’t his and bring about Sutekh into the world.
He just had to know.
Iaheru had heard the barge dock, knowing that the young man remembered his father's teachings from the prow of flat boats and sea vessels alike. Though they were rare occasions, whenever Sutekh and Onuphrious, even Nefertari with her cunning and smooth words convincing her dear father to let her join, Iaheru would wave from the docks. Her stiff chin, rigid composure foreboding against the blue waters of the Nile, the River's jewel portrayed feminine power. Supremacy. Invincibility. She had a brutal past, but a beautiful life. Something that she had so foolishly forgotten in the past several months.
And how the dear man in front of her had paid for carelessness and vanity. Whatever happened to birthing him in Thebes within the depths of the Sheifa manor? Paranoid and hawking over a child Onuphrious was ecstatic to present to the world. He had, to his understanding at the time, sired a strong son. The heir to a powerful name. There was nothing that made Onuphrious happier, and, by extension, his glee and devotion poured through Iaheru.
Sutekh held onto Iaheru, his muscles pressing into her. She fought back a beam and kept her reserved smile. It felt like two months prior.
She shrouded her son in protection for his first years. Iaheru isolated with her children rather than leaving them to servants and slaves. Nursing Sutekh longer than her others, fearful that a wet nurse would poison the boy. From the time Sutekh writhed in his swaddle, Iaheru panting with sweat wetting her hair, matting it to her face, she knew he was Imopehatsuma's son. It was Onuphrious' adoration that compelled Iaheru to put aside grief and trauma to behold her beautiful son. Selfishly, through Sutekh she healed, and she knew this secret was hers alone to bear.
But she knew Imopehatsuma She knew him from intimate parties hosted at the palace and her compound. She knew him in his humanity descended from godhood, his shortcomings, his rich past and insecurities when he sought her out for guidance and mathematical expertise. She knew him for that night when she refused his touch and somehow lived to cry under him as he gave her the joy and pain of her life. It was Isetheperu that kept her sleepless in the boy's infancy, a woman Iaheru now mirrored in cunning and spite. Iaheru finally understood what it was to lose a child in an incomplete sense, her son gone but only a river away, the palace, viewable from her compound foreboding and mocking.
Imopehatsuma wanted nothing more than a son. In the way the Pharaoh deprived Iaheru of personhood, Iaheru intentionally deprived Ra on Earth his heir at the expense of Sutekh, Hathesput, and her own daughters. The lie twisted her life and the lives of thousands now off to a silly war waged by a fool. And when her son's ravenous hunger gave way to the paranoia she once bore, a heaviness in her chest slowed her breathing. "They make them better at the palace," she counters, a raising of her eyebrow compelling the boy to eat his fill.
When the topic of war comes up, Iaheru's mask breaks momentarily. Her distaste for war was known far and wide. Almost treasonously so. This hatred paled in the sadness she felt when she realized her editing her composure for Sutekh. Had she become this disingenuous out of image or survival? "As you deserve, I couldn't be more proud," Iaheru sipped her tea. "Of course, I have nothing but reverence for our King of Kings," Iaheru rolled her eyes, placing the cup on the low table in front of her and collecting her dates. After she mulled over her words, they come out straightforwardly and elegantly, "I pray for their loyalty to your dear sister. If I could find her smuggled oysters, I'd have you take them back to her."
"My sadness for her situation is half of my guilt for yours," Iaheru frowned. "Which is immense."
And then, the man who seemingly defined her life came into question. His demeanor, his likeness to her son who bore equal parts Onuphrious and Iaheru despite the lacking blood relation. Iaheru was familiar, although not in magnitude, to the curse of blood. For years her hair wrapped tightly to her scalp to purge herself of her mother's notoriety. This revising spirit was the inheritance of her children. It was why Iaheru was all the more adamant that Sutekh not practice the bow. To not take to the sword before Onuphrious and the elder Sheifa demanded her support. In her coping with Sutekh's prowess like the warrior Pharaoh, she reminded herself that Imopehatsuma, save for his unforgivable moments and the brushes on the low of Iaheru's back at parties for the years to come, taunting, he was not routinely cruel. "In all his best ways, Sutekh," she placed her hand atop of his.
"You must understand," she swallowed a lump in her throat, eyes cast to the floor before they find the courage to return to eyes like his father's. "Imopehatsuma was cunning, smart, loved for his might. But so was your grandfather, so was your fath... Onuphrious." Iaheru felt a sharp pain in her chest as she grips her son's hand tighter, "But I know this for sure."
"I know that you would never throw your son out of a house you don't own with nothing for something the son cannot control," she took a deep breath for the strength to summon the unspeakable words, bitter and devastating in their delivery, "And I know you'd never abuse your power and rape. These things I know for sure."
Iaheru stares blankly, removing her hand from Sutekh's and returning to her tea. Sipping coolly, her mind finds the words she means to say all along. “The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.”
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Iaheru had heard the barge dock, knowing that the young man remembered his father's teachings from the prow of flat boats and sea vessels alike. Though they were rare occasions, whenever Sutekh and Onuphrious, even Nefertari with her cunning and smooth words convincing her dear father to let her join, Iaheru would wave from the docks. Her stiff chin, rigid composure foreboding against the blue waters of the Nile, the River's jewel portrayed feminine power. Supremacy. Invincibility. She had a brutal past, but a beautiful life. Something that she had so foolishly forgotten in the past several months.
And how the dear man in front of her had paid for carelessness and vanity. Whatever happened to birthing him in Thebes within the depths of the Sheifa manor? Paranoid and hawking over a child Onuphrious was ecstatic to present to the world. He had, to his understanding at the time, sired a strong son. The heir to a powerful name. There was nothing that made Onuphrious happier, and, by extension, his glee and devotion poured through Iaheru.
Sutekh held onto Iaheru, his muscles pressing into her. She fought back a beam and kept her reserved smile. It felt like two months prior.
She shrouded her son in protection for his first years. Iaheru isolated with her children rather than leaving them to servants and slaves. Nursing Sutekh longer than her others, fearful that a wet nurse would poison the boy. From the time Sutekh writhed in his swaddle, Iaheru panting with sweat wetting her hair, matting it to her face, she knew he was Imopehatsuma's son. It was Onuphrious' adoration that compelled Iaheru to put aside grief and trauma to behold her beautiful son. Selfishly, through Sutekh she healed, and she knew this secret was hers alone to bear.
But she knew Imopehatsuma She knew him from intimate parties hosted at the palace and her compound. She knew him in his humanity descended from godhood, his shortcomings, his rich past and insecurities when he sought her out for guidance and mathematical expertise. She knew him for that night when she refused his touch and somehow lived to cry under him as he gave her the joy and pain of her life. It was Isetheperu that kept her sleepless in the boy's infancy, a woman Iaheru now mirrored in cunning and spite. Iaheru finally understood what it was to lose a child in an incomplete sense, her son gone but only a river away, the palace, viewable from her compound foreboding and mocking.
Imopehatsuma wanted nothing more than a son. In the way the Pharaoh deprived Iaheru of personhood, Iaheru intentionally deprived Ra on Earth his heir at the expense of Sutekh, Hathesput, and her own daughters. The lie twisted her life and the lives of thousands now off to a silly war waged by a fool. And when her son's ravenous hunger gave way to the paranoia she once bore, a heaviness in her chest slowed her breathing. "They make them better at the palace," she counters, a raising of her eyebrow compelling the boy to eat his fill.
When the topic of war comes up, Iaheru's mask breaks momentarily. Her distaste for war was known far and wide. Almost treasonously so. This hatred paled in the sadness she felt when she realized her editing her composure for Sutekh. Had she become this disingenuous out of image or survival? "As you deserve, I couldn't be more proud," Iaheru sipped her tea. "Of course, I have nothing but reverence for our King of Kings," Iaheru rolled her eyes, placing the cup on the low table in front of her and collecting her dates. After she mulled over her words, they come out straightforwardly and elegantly, "I pray for their loyalty to your dear sister. If I could find her smuggled oysters, I'd have you take them back to her."
"My sadness for her situation is half of my guilt for yours," Iaheru frowned. "Which is immense."
And then, the man who seemingly defined her life came into question. His demeanor, his likeness to her son who bore equal parts Onuphrious and Iaheru despite the lacking blood relation. Iaheru was familiar, although not in magnitude, to the curse of blood. For years her hair wrapped tightly to her scalp to purge herself of her mother's notoriety. This revising spirit was the inheritance of her children. It was why Iaheru was all the more adamant that Sutekh not practice the bow. To not take to the sword before Onuphrious and the elder Sheifa demanded her support. In her coping with Sutekh's prowess like the warrior Pharaoh, she reminded herself that Imopehatsuma, save for his unforgivable moments and the brushes on the low of Iaheru's back at parties for the years to come, taunting, he was not routinely cruel. "In all his best ways, Sutekh," she placed her hand atop of his.
"You must understand," she swallowed a lump in her throat, eyes cast to the floor before they find the courage to return to eyes like his father's. "Imopehatsuma was cunning, smart, loved for his might. But so was your grandfather, so was your fath... Onuphrious." Iaheru felt a sharp pain in her chest as she grips her son's hand tighter, "But I know this for sure."
"I know that you would never throw your son out of a house you don't own with nothing for something the son cannot control," she took a deep breath for the strength to summon the unspeakable words, bitter and devastating in their delivery, "And I know you'd never abuse your power and rape. These things I know for sure."
Iaheru stares blankly, removing her hand from Sutekh's and returning to her tea. Sipping coolly, her mind finds the words she means to say all along. “The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.”
Iaheru had heard the barge dock, knowing that the young man remembered his father's teachings from the prow of flat boats and sea vessels alike. Though they were rare occasions, whenever Sutekh and Onuphrious, even Nefertari with her cunning and smooth words convincing her dear father to let her join, Iaheru would wave from the docks. Her stiff chin, rigid composure foreboding against the blue waters of the Nile, the River's jewel portrayed feminine power. Supremacy. Invincibility. She had a brutal past, but a beautiful life. Something that she had so foolishly forgotten in the past several months.
And how the dear man in front of her had paid for carelessness and vanity. Whatever happened to birthing him in Thebes within the depths of the Sheifa manor? Paranoid and hawking over a child Onuphrious was ecstatic to present to the world. He had, to his understanding at the time, sired a strong son. The heir to a powerful name. There was nothing that made Onuphrious happier, and, by extension, his glee and devotion poured through Iaheru.
Sutekh held onto Iaheru, his muscles pressing into her. She fought back a beam and kept her reserved smile. It felt like two months prior.
She shrouded her son in protection for his first years. Iaheru isolated with her children rather than leaving them to servants and slaves. Nursing Sutekh longer than her others, fearful that a wet nurse would poison the boy. From the time Sutekh writhed in his swaddle, Iaheru panting with sweat wetting her hair, matting it to her face, she knew he was Imopehatsuma's son. It was Onuphrious' adoration that compelled Iaheru to put aside grief and trauma to behold her beautiful son. Selfishly, through Sutekh she healed, and she knew this secret was hers alone to bear.
But she knew Imopehatsuma She knew him from intimate parties hosted at the palace and her compound. She knew him in his humanity descended from godhood, his shortcomings, his rich past and insecurities when he sought her out for guidance and mathematical expertise. She knew him for that night when she refused his touch and somehow lived to cry under him as he gave her the joy and pain of her life. It was Isetheperu that kept her sleepless in the boy's infancy, a woman Iaheru now mirrored in cunning and spite. Iaheru finally understood what it was to lose a child in an incomplete sense, her son gone but only a river away, the palace, viewable from her compound foreboding and mocking.
Imopehatsuma wanted nothing more than a son. In the way the Pharaoh deprived Iaheru of personhood, Iaheru intentionally deprived Ra on Earth his heir at the expense of Sutekh, Hathesput, and her own daughters. The lie twisted her life and the lives of thousands now off to a silly war waged by a fool. And when her son's ravenous hunger gave way to the paranoia she once bore, a heaviness in her chest slowed her breathing. "They make them better at the palace," she counters, a raising of her eyebrow compelling the boy to eat his fill.
When the topic of war comes up, Iaheru's mask breaks momentarily. Her distaste for war was known far and wide. Almost treasonously so. This hatred paled in the sadness she felt when she realized her editing her composure for Sutekh. Had she become this disingenuous out of image or survival? "As you deserve, I couldn't be more proud," Iaheru sipped her tea. "Of course, I have nothing but reverence for our King of Kings," Iaheru rolled her eyes, placing the cup on the low table in front of her and collecting her dates. After she mulled over her words, they come out straightforwardly and elegantly, "I pray for their loyalty to your dear sister. If I could find her smuggled oysters, I'd have you take them back to her."
"My sadness for her situation is half of my guilt for yours," Iaheru frowned. "Which is immense."
And then, the man who seemingly defined her life came into question. His demeanor, his likeness to her son who bore equal parts Onuphrious and Iaheru despite the lacking blood relation. Iaheru was familiar, although not in magnitude, to the curse of blood. For years her hair wrapped tightly to her scalp to purge herself of her mother's notoriety. This revising spirit was the inheritance of her children. It was why Iaheru was all the more adamant that Sutekh not practice the bow. To not take to the sword before Onuphrious and the elder Sheifa demanded her support. In her coping with Sutekh's prowess like the warrior Pharaoh, she reminded herself that Imopehatsuma, save for his unforgivable moments and the brushes on the low of Iaheru's back at parties for the years to come, taunting, he was not routinely cruel. "In all his best ways, Sutekh," she placed her hand atop of his.
"You must understand," she swallowed a lump in her throat, eyes cast to the floor before they find the courage to return to eyes like his father's. "Imopehatsuma was cunning, smart, loved for his might. But so was your grandfather, so was your fath... Onuphrious." Iaheru felt a sharp pain in her chest as she grips her son's hand tighter, "But I know this for sure."
"I know that you would never throw your son out of a house you don't own with nothing for something the son cannot control," she took a deep breath for the strength to summon the unspeakable words, bitter and devastating in their delivery, "And I know you'd never abuse your power and rape. These things I know for sure."
Iaheru stares blankly, removing her hand from Sutekh's and returning to her tea. Sipping coolly, her mind finds the words she means to say all along. “The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.”
Here in the aftermath of everything being unraveled, Sutekh wasn't sure where he stood in regards to the actions that his mother had taken. In many ways, he was beyond grateful for the lies that she had told. Through her longstanding deception that had ultimately cost them both so much that it could not accurately be put into words, the woman before him had secured him a happy upbringing. Sutekh had grown up in a world that was safe and the dangers of royal life could not touch him. He had been free to play and follow his own pursuits rather than be trained like a charming pet monkey in preparation for a future coronation. Most importantly though, Iaheru had given him a father who had loved and cared for him more than anything else in this world. For twenty-four years he had been Onuphrious’s shining gem and Sutekh had flourished in this light. It was a simple truth that he would not be the same man before Iaheru today if he had not had those years of guidance and love, molding him into the capable Prince he had to become. Had Iaheru been honest about Sutekh’s parentage, the boy never would have had that chance and he would not have the ten additional years of fond memories that been stolen away from his sister.
However, he couldn’t deny that there was a small part of him that was angry with the deceptions. Sutekh would never admit it, but as wonderful as his life had been with the Sheifas, the boy felt as if he too had been robbed of the chance to know his father. He had been shielded away from Imopehatsuma for the first fourteen years of his life and now only had vague memories from court sessions to lean upon when it came to knowing the man who sired him. Flashes of brief greetings were just simply not enough for Sutekh. Not when he had the strong connection he had held with Onuphrious to compare these fleeting moments against. Imopehatsuma was a stranger to Sutekh. He was an enigma. Nothing more than crumbling paint on palace walls and fading memories of those who knew him. It seemed rather cruel that Sutekh would never have the chance to sit with the man who would seemingly define Sutekh’s legacy. He would be forever judged by the actions of a man who was no more substantial than a ghost in the walls of a place that would never feel like home.
As much as Sutekh longed to know the man who had sired him, to be able to sit with him for even an hour, just to understand who he was, the boy knew that such information would come at a cost.
If that was not already clear enough in the warm room, his mother’s words about his sister’s situation solidified that. Sutekh grew quiet in the wake of what she said as he understood inherently what the alternative that she was describing would have constituted. The only way Hatshepsut could have avoiding being married to such a monster was Sutekh becoming pharaoh in place of Iahotep. Truthfully, he didn’t know how he felt about this alternate course of history. The last two months of living in the palace had been miserable enough. He didn’t know how he was going to make it to the new year while living under that roof -- how could he have spent a lifetime ruling all of Egypt from such a stifling place? Not to mention from such a young age as the only way this could have ever happened was if Imopehatsuma had recognized Sutekh as his son while he was still living within the mortal realm. If Sutekh had become pharaoh, he would have done so at fourteen… that is if he had managed to live that long underneath the angry eyes of Isetheperu. His entire existence was an insult to her capabilities as a wife to the former Pharaoh. If she had not failed to keep Imopehatsuma’s attentions, Sutekh would have never been born. He was already aware of how deeply she hated him. Sutekh did not want to imagine how that insult would have been deepened if the boy had displaced her own daughter.
Though Sutekh couldn’t deny the plain truth that he would have been a far more capable leader than Iahotep. If it had been him on the throne instead, there would be no war with Greece looming on the horizon. Not a single mother, wife, or child would have to mournfully say goodbye to their men, unsure if they would ever see them again. That alone almost made Sutekh wish that Iaheru had sacrificed his childhood to keep the male Naddar line on the throne.
Almost.
Sutekh remained quiet in regards to this, unsure if there was anything that he could say given how the chance for such a decision was now ten years gone. He and his mother could discuss the what-ifs to kingdom come, but that would not summon Imopehatsuma from his grave. That would not change the fact that Sutekh was a bastard and was excluded from the line of succession. These things could not be changed and Sutekh had more than learned that spending too much time dwelling on the unchangeable past was not healthy. Instead, he reached for more of the delicious meats, hiding his silence through such an indulgence.
His thoughts though drifted back to the war and how devasting it would be for Egypt. Win or loss, any conflict was not good for the economy. That was something he had learned within these four walls through both the wisdom of Onuphrious and the bright flame of Iaheru’s rage when things fell into chaos. Conflict in any form on such a large scale would be disastrous for nearly everyone -- but Sutekh could not deny that there was one shining light in this death sentence that Iahotep had handed down to him. Sutekh had scoffed at her earlier praises upon the King of Kings as he could see right through them to what opinions she truly held for such a foolish man -- but now it was his turn to laud such kind words upon the very same man who wished to see him dead. “This gift might be a blessing in disguise... ” Sutekh muttered as he finally allowed himself to address a quiet hope that had bloomed in him since that fateful dinner where he had learned the news, “The promotion between Captain and Deputy General is meant to be arduous, taking a man years upon years of back-breaking work and dedication to accomplish. The leap between Deputy General and General though…” The boy trailed off, letting the woman fill in the blanks of what her like-minded son was thinking. It was common knowledge that in order to build a Hei, one must become a general, and in order to ensure that, one hundred men needed to turn away from their harakat and agree to form a new one under the man in question.
If Sutekh could convince the right amount of men to do that, he could force Ia’s hand into allowing the boy to form his own Hei. He could be legitimate again -- but under a new name, far away from an inheritance from the throne that he did not truly want. The boy could be safe once again, free to live the life of Sirdar like he had been raised for.
However, getting there would be quite a challenge.
Sutekh was entering this war as a newly instated Deputy General. He was more than well aware that there were already whispers circulating about his inexperience and there were even false claims of favoritism regarding this promotion of his and many believed that his short term as Captain in the Sheifa harakat was not nearly long enough to justify such a promotion. (They were clearly wrong, of course -- but it wasn’t as if Sutekh could set the story straight with the consequences of speaking ill about the Pharaoh being so high.) Iaheru’s son was not foolish enough to think that it would be easy, or quite frankly, remotely feasible given all the obstacles that would be in his way. However, if he could survive this war, he would have that title of Deputy General for life. Sutekh could return to the military camps and work endlessly to get to that end goal of having his own Hei and having his own destiny that was not tied to his residency at the Evening Star Palace.
Sutekh would give anything to get out of those stone walls.
At the mere thought of destinies, the conversation shifted towards the one that had been unwillingly carved out for the mother and son duo by the king who could not understand that not everything belonged to him. Sutekh visibly relaxed a bit when Iaheru affirmed with every ounce of motherly love within her that her son was not the monster that he feared his father to be. That he was far more sensible and compassionate than Imopehatsuma had ever been and the few traits that he feared might come roaring to life within him had long ago been stifled by his other father.
He clutched onto her tight grip, conveying how grateful he was for such reminders without uttering a single word. In truth, Sutekh wasn’t sure that he could at this moment as the relief swept through him like a tidal wave. He needed to hear these things, to be reminded that he was not some dirty thing that the Queen had taken pity on as she had never known the novelty of having a sibling. That he was still worth more than his tainted bloodline and he could still be all those great things that he had been raised to be. To anyone who was not in his shoes, such reminders would seem to be unneeded as his disgrace had elevated him to the rank of a royal. However, that completely undermined how far he had truly tumbled in his fall from being the Sheifa heir. Yes, he might have gained quite a bit, but he had still lost everything he had ever known. He had lost his future, his safety, but most importantly, he had lost his family. For twenty-four years he had been the middle child in a family of seven. He had a father to help him soar and a mother waiting on the ground when he fell. Now he had been denied that. His siblings were no longer considered his kin despite still sharing Iaheru’s blood. His father had been the one to cast him out and thus far, Iaheru had been the only one to reach out and remind him that he was missed. Not even Nenet had done as much and the two of them had been inseparable as children.
It all hurt. It hurt more than Sutekh could ever put into words.
So he needed that reminder that he was not Imopehatsuma. That he was not the sort of man that would ever go out and cause that sort of pain upon anyone else -- especially after experiencing first hand what the consequences of such carelessness could be. He rapidly shook his head no at her words, affirming that he would never commit the crimes of Onuphrious and Imopehatsuma, men who had put their own selfish desires above the lives of others. The siblings who now saw him as dead might have always made fun of the strong morals that rested in Sutekh -- but it would be the one thing that would set him apart from the men who had an impact on him. Being selfish was now an offense that he would never find it easy to commit.
Sutekh was struggling to convey this on account of the near-silent sob forming deep in his chest as all those fears and worries came to a head within him. Not wishing to alert his mother that he was on the brink of such an emotional reaction, Sutekh kept his words back as he tried to bring the slight hitches of his breath to a halt. Although he was not fully successful, he did manage to keep himself together enough to whisper a simple truth that both of them wished was still true, no matter how impossible it might now be, “It would be so much simpler if I was still a Sheifa.” His tone was mournful and made no attempt to deny his Naddar blood, but instead spoke to the quiet wish that they both shared… that Onuphrious would look past such trivial things as bloodlines and welcome the son that he had raised back into his home where the boy belonged. Even if he could never inherit the position that he had been raised into, life would be so much better for both of them if he could just come home.
However, that was little more than wishful thinking wasn’t it?
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Here in the aftermath of everything being unraveled, Sutekh wasn't sure where he stood in regards to the actions that his mother had taken. In many ways, he was beyond grateful for the lies that she had told. Through her longstanding deception that had ultimately cost them both so much that it could not accurately be put into words, the woman before him had secured him a happy upbringing. Sutekh had grown up in a world that was safe and the dangers of royal life could not touch him. He had been free to play and follow his own pursuits rather than be trained like a charming pet monkey in preparation for a future coronation. Most importantly though, Iaheru had given him a father who had loved and cared for him more than anything else in this world. For twenty-four years he had been Onuphrious’s shining gem and Sutekh had flourished in this light. It was a simple truth that he would not be the same man before Iaheru today if he had not had those years of guidance and love, molding him into the capable Prince he had to become. Had Iaheru been honest about Sutekh’s parentage, the boy never would have had that chance and he would not have the ten additional years of fond memories that been stolen away from his sister.
However, he couldn’t deny that there was a small part of him that was angry with the deceptions. Sutekh would never admit it, but as wonderful as his life had been with the Sheifas, the boy felt as if he too had been robbed of the chance to know his father. He had been shielded away from Imopehatsuma for the first fourteen years of his life and now only had vague memories from court sessions to lean upon when it came to knowing the man who sired him. Flashes of brief greetings were just simply not enough for Sutekh. Not when he had the strong connection he had held with Onuphrious to compare these fleeting moments against. Imopehatsuma was a stranger to Sutekh. He was an enigma. Nothing more than crumbling paint on palace walls and fading memories of those who knew him. It seemed rather cruel that Sutekh would never have the chance to sit with the man who would seemingly define Sutekh’s legacy. He would be forever judged by the actions of a man who was no more substantial than a ghost in the walls of a place that would never feel like home.
As much as Sutekh longed to know the man who had sired him, to be able to sit with him for even an hour, just to understand who he was, the boy knew that such information would come at a cost.
If that was not already clear enough in the warm room, his mother’s words about his sister’s situation solidified that. Sutekh grew quiet in the wake of what she said as he understood inherently what the alternative that she was describing would have constituted. The only way Hatshepsut could have avoiding being married to such a monster was Sutekh becoming pharaoh in place of Iahotep. Truthfully, he didn’t know how he felt about this alternate course of history. The last two months of living in the palace had been miserable enough. He didn’t know how he was going to make it to the new year while living under that roof -- how could he have spent a lifetime ruling all of Egypt from such a stifling place? Not to mention from such a young age as the only way this could have ever happened was if Imopehatsuma had recognized Sutekh as his son while he was still living within the mortal realm. If Sutekh had become pharaoh, he would have done so at fourteen… that is if he had managed to live that long underneath the angry eyes of Isetheperu. His entire existence was an insult to her capabilities as a wife to the former Pharaoh. If she had not failed to keep Imopehatsuma’s attentions, Sutekh would have never been born. He was already aware of how deeply she hated him. Sutekh did not want to imagine how that insult would have been deepened if the boy had displaced her own daughter.
Though Sutekh couldn’t deny the plain truth that he would have been a far more capable leader than Iahotep. If it had been him on the throne instead, there would be no war with Greece looming on the horizon. Not a single mother, wife, or child would have to mournfully say goodbye to their men, unsure if they would ever see them again. That alone almost made Sutekh wish that Iaheru had sacrificed his childhood to keep the male Naddar line on the throne.
Almost.
Sutekh remained quiet in regards to this, unsure if there was anything that he could say given how the chance for such a decision was now ten years gone. He and his mother could discuss the what-ifs to kingdom come, but that would not summon Imopehatsuma from his grave. That would not change the fact that Sutekh was a bastard and was excluded from the line of succession. These things could not be changed and Sutekh had more than learned that spending too much time dwelling on the unchangeable past was not healthy. Instead, he reached for more of the delicious meats, hiding his silence through such an indulgence.
His thoughts though drifted back to the war and how devasting it would be for Egypt. Win or loss, any conflict was not good for the economy. That was something he had learned within these four walls through both the wisdom of Onuphrious and the bright flame of Iaheru’s rage when things fell into chaos. Conflict in any form on such a large scale would be disastrous for nearly everyone -- but Sutekh could not deny that there was one shining light in this death sentence that Iahotep had handed down to him. Sutekh had scoffed at her earlier praises upon the King of Kings as he could see right through them to what opinions she truly held for such a foolish man -- but now it was his turn to laud such kind words upon the very same man who wished to see him dead. “This gift might be a blessing in disguise... ” Sutekh muttered as he finally allowed himself to address a quiet hope that had bloomed in him since that fateful dinner where he had learned the news, “The promotion between Captain and Deputy General is meant to be arduous, taking a man years upon years of back-breaking work and dedication to accomplish. The leap between Deputy General and General though…” The boy trailed off, letting the woman fill in the blanks of what her like-minded son was thinking. It was common knowledge that in order to build a Hei, one must become a general, and in order to ensure that, one hundred men needed to turn away from their harakat and agree to form a new one under the man in question.
If Sutekh could convince the right amount of men to do that, he could force Ia’s hand into allowing the boy to form his own Hei. He could be legitimate again -- but under a new name, far away from an inheritance from the throne that he did not truly want. The boy could be safe once again, free to live the life of Sirdar like he had been raised for.
However, getting there would be quite a challenge.
Sutekh was entering this war as a newly instated Deputy General. He was more than well aware that there were already whispers circulating about his inexperience and there were even false claims of favoritism regarding this promotion of his and many believed that his short term as Captain in the Sheifa harakat was not nearly long enough to justify such a promotion. (They were clearly wrong, of course -- but it wasn’t as if Sutekh could set the story straight with the consequences of speaking ill about the Pharaoh being so high.) Iaheru’s son was not foolish enough to think that it would be easy, or quite frankly, remotely feasible given all the obstacles that would be in his way. However, if he could survive this war, he would have that title of Deputy General for life. Sutekh could return to the military camps and work endlessly to get to that end goal of having his own Hei and having his own destiny that was not tied to his residency at the Evening Star Palace.
Sutekh would give anything to get out of those stone walls.
At the mere thought of destinies, the conversation shifted towards the one that had been unwillingly carved out for the mother and son duo by the king who could not understand that not everything belonged to him. Sutekh visibly relaxed a bit when Iaheru affirmed with every ounce of motherly love within her that her son was not the monster that he feared his father to be. That he was far more sensible and compassionate than Imopehatsuma had ever been and the few traits that he feared might come roaring to life within him had long ago been stifled by his other father.
He clutched onto her tight grip, conveying how grateful he was for such reminders without uttering a single word. In truth, Sutekh wasn’t sure that he could at this moment as the relief swept through him like a tidal wave. He needed to hear these things, to be reminded that he was not some dirty thing that the Queen had taken pity on as she had never known the novelty of having a sibling. That he was still worth more than his tainted bloodline and he could still be all those great things that he had been raised to be. To anyone who was not in his shoes, such reminders would seem to be unneeded as his disgrace had elevated him to the rank of a royal. However, that completely undermined how far he had truly tumbled in his fall from being the Sheifa heir. Yes, he might have gained quite a bit, but he had still lost everything he had ever known. He had lost his future, his safety, but most importantly, he had lost his family. For twenty-four years he had been the middle child in a family of seven. He had a father to help him soar and a mother waiting on the ground when he fell. Now he had been denied that. His siblings were no longer considered his kin despite still sharing Iaheru’s blood. His father had been the one to cast him out and thus far, Iaheru had been the only one to reach out and remind him that he was missed. Not even Nenet had done as much and the two of them had been inseparable as children.
It all hurt. It hurt more than Sutekh could ever put into words.
So he needed that reminder that he was not Imopehatsuma. That he was not the sort of man that would ever go out and cause that sort of pain upon anyone else -- especially after experiencing first hand what the consequences of such carelessness could be. He rapidly shook his head no at her words, affirming that he would never commit the crimes of Onuphrious and Imopehatsuma, men who had put their own selfish desires above the lives of others. The siblings who now saw him as dead might have always made fun of the strong morals that rested in Sutekh -- but it would be the one thing that would set him apart from the men who had an impact on him. Being selfish was now an offense that he would never find it easy to commit.
Sutekh was struggling to convey this on account of the near-silent sob forming deep in his chest as all those fears and worries came to a head within him. Not wishing to alert his mother that he was on the brink of such an emotional reaction, Sutekh kept his words back as he tried to bring the slight hitches of his breath to a halt. Although he was not fully successful, he did manage to keep himself together enough to whisper a simple truth that both of them wished was still true, no matter how impossible it might now be, “It would be so much simpler if I was still a Sheifa.” His tone was mournful and made no attempt to deny his Naddar blood, but instead spoke to the quiet wish that they both shared… that Onuphrious would look past such trivial things as bloodlines and welcome the son that he had raised back into his home where the boy belonged. Even if he could never inherit the position that he had been raised into, life would be so much better for both of them if he could just come home.
However, that was little more than wishful thinking wasn’t it?
Here in the aftermath of everything being unraveled, Sutekh wasn't sure where he stood in regards to the actions that his mother had taken. In many ways, he was beyond grateful for the lies that she had told. Through her longstanding deception that had ultimately cost them both so much that it could not accurately be put into words, the woman before him had secured him a happy upbringing. Sutekh had grown up in a world that was safe and the dangers of royal life could not touch him. He had been free to play and follow his own pursuits rather than be trained like a charming pet monkey in preparation for a future coronation. Most importantly though, Iaheru had given him a father who had loved and cared for him more than anything else in this world. For twenty-four years he had been Onuphrious’s shining gem and Sutekh had flourished in this light. It was a simple truth that he would not be the same man before Iaheru today if he had not had those years of guidance and love, molding him into the capable Prince he had to become. Had Iaheru been honest about Sutekh’s parentage, the boy never would have had that chance and he would not have the ten additional years of fond memories that been stolen away from his sister.
However, he couldn’t deny that there was a small part of him that was angry with the deceptions. Sutekh would never admit it, but as wonderful as his life had been with the Sheifas, the boy felt as if he too had been robbed of the chance to know his father. He had been shielded away from Imopehatsuma for the first fourteen years of his life and now only had vague memories from court sessions to lean upon when it came to knowing the man who sired him. Flashes of brief greetings were just simply not enough for Sutekh. Not when he had the strong connection he had held with Onuphrious to compare these fleeting moments against. Imopehatsuma was a stranger to Sutekh. He was an enigma. Nothing more than crumbling paint on palace walls and fading memories of those who knew him. It seemed rather cruel that Sutekh would never have the chance to sit with the man who would seemingly define Sutekh’s legacy. He would be forever judged by the actions of a man who was no more substantial than a ghost in the walls of a place that would never feel like home.
As much as Sutekh longed to know the man who had sired him, to be able to sit with him for even an hour, just to understand who he was, the boy knew that such information would come at a cost.
If that was not already clear enough in the warm room, his mother’s words about his sister’s situation solidified that. Sutekh grew quiet in the wake of what she said as he understood inherently what the alternative that she was describing would have constituted. The only way Hatshepsut could have avoiding being married to such a monster was Sutekh becoming pharaoh in place of Iahotep. Truthfully, he didn’t know how he felt about this alternate course of history. The last two months of living in the palace had been miserable enough. He didn’t know how he was going to make it to the new year while living under that roof -- how could he have spent a lifetime ruling all of Egypt from such a stifling place? Not to mention from such a young age as the only way this could have ever happened was if Imopehatsuma had recognized Sutekh as his son while he was still living within the mortal realm. If Sutekh had become pharaoh, he would have done so at fourteen… that is if he had managed to live that long underneath the angry eyes of Isetheperu. His entire existence was an insult to her capabilities as a wife to the former Pharaoh. If she had not failed to keep Imopehatsuma’s attentions, Sutekh would have never been born. He was already aware of how deeply she hated him. Sutekh did not want to imagine how that insult would have been deepened if the boy had displaced her own daughter.
Though Sutekh couldn’t deny the plain truth that he would have been a far more capable leader than Iahotep. If it had been him on the throne instead, there would be no war with Greece looming on the horizon. Not a single mother, wife, or child would have to mournfully say goodbye to their men, unsure if they would ever see them again. That alone almost made Sutekh wish that Iaheru had sacrificed his childhood to keep the male Naddar line on the throne.
Almost.
Sutekh remained quiet in regards to this, unsure if there was anything that he could say given how the chance for such a decision was now ten years gone. He and his mother could discuss the what-ifs to kingdom come, but that would not summon Imopehatsuma from his grave. That would not change the fact that Sutekh was a bastard and was excluded from the line of succession. These things could not be changed and Sutekh had more than learned that spending too much time dwelling on the unchangeable past was not healthy. Instead, he reached for more of the delicious meats, hiding his silence through such an indulgence.
His thoughts though drifted back to the war and how devasting it would be for Egypt. Win or loss, any conflict was not good for the economy. That was something he had learned within these four walls through both the wisdom of Onuphrious and the bright flame of Iaheru’s rage when things fell into chaos. Conflict in any form on such a large scale would be disastrous for nearly everyone -- but Sutekh could not deny that there was one shining light in this death sentence that Iahotep had handed down to him. Sutekh had scoffed at her earlier praises upon the King of Kings as he could see right through them to what opinions she truly held for such a foolish man -- but now it was his turn to laud such kind words upon the very same man who wished to see him dead. “This gift might be a blessing in disguise... ” Sutekh muttered as he finally allowed himself to address a quiet hope that had bloomed in him since that fateful dinner where he had learned the news, “The promotion between Captain and Deputy General is meant to be arduous, taking a man years upon years of back-breaking work and dedication to accomplish. The leap between Deputy General and General though…” The boy trailed off, letting the woman fill in the blanks of what her like-minded son was thinking. It was common knowledge that in order to build a Hei, one must become a general, and in order to ensure that, one hundred men needed to turn away from their harakat and agree to form a new one under the man in question.
If Sutekh could convince the right amount of men to do that, he could force Ia’s hand into allowing the boy to form his own Hei. He could be legitimate again -- but under a new name, far away from an inheritance from the throne that he did not truly want. The boy could be safe once again, free to live the life of Sirdar like he had been raised for.
However, getting there would be quite a challenge.
Sutekh was entering this war as a newly instated Deputy General. He was more than well aware that there were already whispers circulating about his inexperience and there were even false claims of favoritism regarding this promotion of his and many believed that his short term as Captain in the Sheifa harakat was not nearly long enough to justify such a promotion. (They were clearly wrong, of course -- but it wasn’t as if Sutekh could set the story straight with the consequences of speaking ill about the Pharaoh being so high.) Iaheru’s son was not foolish enough to think that it would be easy, or quite frankly, remotely feasible given all the obstacles that would be in his way. However, if he could survive this war, he would have that title of Deputy General for life. Sutekh could return to the military camps and work endlessly to get to that end goal of having his own Hei and having his own destiny that was not tied to his residency at the Evening Star Palace.
Sutekh would give anything to get out of those stone walls.
At the mere thought of destinies, the conversation shifted towards the one that had been unwillingly carved out for the mother and son duo by the king who could not understand that not everything belonged to him. Sutekh visibly relaxed a bit when Iaheru affirmed with every ounce of motherly love within her that her son was not the monster that he feared his father to be. That he was far more sensible and compassionate than Imopehatsuma had ever been and the few traits that he feared might come roaring to life within him had long ago been stifled by his other father.
He clutched onto her tight grip, conveying how grateful he was for such reminders without uttering a single word. In truth, Sutekh wasn’t sure that he could at this moment as the relief swept through him like a tidal wave. He needed to hear these things, to be reminded that he was not some dirty thing that the Queen had taken pity on as she had never known the novelty of having a sibling. That he was still worth more than his tainted bloodline and he could still be all those great things that he had been raised to be. To anyone who was not in his shoes, such reminders would seem to be unneeded as his disgrace had elevated him to the rank of a royal. However, that completely undermined how far he had truly tumbled in his fall from being the Sheifa heir. Yes, he might have gained quite a bit, but he had still lost everything he had ever known. He had lost his future, his safety, but most importantly, he had lost his family. For twenty-four years he had been the middle child in a family of seven. He had a father to help him soar and a mother waiting on the ground when he fell. Now he had been denied that. His siblings were no longer considered his kin despite still sharing Iaheru’s blood. His father had been the one to cast him out and thus far, Iaheru had been the only one to reach out and remind him that he was missed. Not even Nenet had done as much and the two of them had been inseparable as children.
It all hurt. It hurt more than Sutekh could ever put into words.
So he needed that reminder that he was not Imopehatsuma. That he was not the sort of man that would ever go out and cause that sort of pain upon anyone else -- especially after experiencing first hand what the consequences of such carelessness could be. He rapidly shook his head no at her words, affirming that he would never commit the crimes of Onuphrious and Imopehatsuma, men who had put their own selfish desires above the lives of others. The siblings who now saw him as dead might have always made fun of the strong morals that rested in Sutekh -- but it would be the one thing that would set him apart from the men who had an impact on him. Being selfish was now an offense that he would never find it easy to commit.
Sutekh was struggling to convey this on account of the near-silent sob forming deep in his chest as all those fears and worries came to a head within him. Not wishing to alert his mother that he was on the brink of such an emotional reaction, Sutekh kept his words back as he tried to bring the slight hitches of his breath to a halt. Although he was not fully successful, he did manage to keep himself together enough to whisper a simple truth that both of them wished was still true, no matter how impossible it might now be, “It would be so much simpler if I was still a Sheifa.” His tone was mournful and made no attempt to deny his Naddar blood, but instead spoke to the quiet wish that they both shared… that Onuphrious would look past such trivial things as bloodlines and welcome the son that he had raised back into his home where the boy belonged. Even if he could never inherit the position that he had been raised into, life would be so much better for both of them if he could just come home.
However, that was little more than wishful thinking wasn’t it?
Her mind sharpened as her son spoke, as he was a gem to Onuphrious, he was golden to Iaheru. Raised in her image, and the images of so many others unspoken in their time, she couldn’t imagine the conflict of blood he felt welled up inside a young man’s heart. It seemed as if all of her children suffered tribulations in the eve of Aylul, the cooler weather setting into the night with purple hued horizons cloaking the evils of night. Wherever Neithotep wandered, whomever Akhenaten traipsed with, Nenet her constant and innocent, Nefertari attached to the unspoken monster, Iaheru took to her storehouses, if only to abandon her flock and mourn the man in front of her. His pain her fault in part.
Iaheru watched the flickers of the candles, eye brimming with tears unfell in the past months. Most of her outlet had been anger before opium clouded her fires. A bristle of wind rattles papyrus stored in wooden cubbies imported, the banner of Hei Sheifa beat against the stone outside, tassels rustling and its pride shining through golden embroidery. How proud she was to have brought up a house prized for peace and commerce. And how proud she was of her son before her, an archer, now a Deputy General. Her eyes mimic candles in their sway back to her thinning son. Now this was his emerging forte Iaheru wished to cultivate, the ability to will the impossible to fruition as she had once before. “You speak a mild heresy,” she smiled, white teeth glimmering with pride. “Speak more, what of a name?”
Her insides burst with happiness, a distinct fervor. She alone had the capital to fund his heresy, her home with its olive grove serving as a saraaya away from the glimpses of Isetheperu and Iahotep, servants loyal to the divisive matriarch. Would she leave the glory of Hei Sheifa, her defining title, her lifelong ambition, her children for her one child? How could she give the world to all five children? Could she subdivide among the worthy? Did she already do so with her compliance regarding Neithotep and Akhenaten, oil to the Sheifa’s water against the prow of ships. For all their familial disgrace, the two certainly bathed in the benefits of its rosewater. And yet, here was her son that bathed in gold and wished to return. A Prince of Egypt, a son of a God, here before her wishing to start anew and return to the old simultaneously. A visage of the sun falling on rigid waters conducive to wreckage.
A manicured hand falls atop of his. “My son,” she whispered, her pain channeling through his palms in a mutual transfer of energy, the best of her blood flowing in his veins as her head picks up. “You were born into complication and this is a sin of my making.”
“You will always be of me,” A singular tear drops down a commoner’s cheek, made noble by a stiff lip and Onuphrious’ name. In that moment she couldn’t bear to be alive, the truth of her life made tangible, the man before her revealed and more vulnerable than she. Lies had thrust him, her treasure, to danger, into a pit of vipers disguised by frescoes and mosaics her son went. Along with Hathesput, they were cornered on all sides by poison and harship, Sutekh certainly with death. “You will always be of me and it isn’t enough,” her tears cascade, voice cracking, “Of but common blood, ascending through what was once love before I lied.”
“He banished you from my home,” Iaheru grips his hand tightly, nails imposing on the warrior’s tanned skin. She remembers that day in a haze, her husband infuriated with her lies as she placed herself between a combative Onuphrious and Sutekh. She kept herself in front of her son for the sake of example, for if she stood near Onuphrious she was certain she’d strike him. Instead, she crumpled at the foot of her fountain, the forked tongue spilling over with glistening rosewater in the beating sun of a summer afternoon, “How could you do this to me!” Iaheru screeched. The entire Ghani district could hear her family’s dismantling in her home. Onuphrious evicted and disowned Sutekh in a home that wasn’t even his.
“I can’t bear to look at him. I see his shortcomings in them all even though I shouldn’t.” She references her children, once thinking that Onuphrious provided no harm to their children’s blood, but now doubting her estimation and resolving herself of motherly guilt.
“And your siblings,” Iaheru lifts her hand from Sutekh’s, furrowing a brow just now developing lines of stress. “Have you spoken with them? I know Nenet mourns you in a profound way. Unable to cope with leaving much, her stutter tenfold… I keep myself busy whereas she seems to wallow.” Her teeth tighten, wondering if he even wished to hear of them, “I will never let Egpyt forget who I am and the respect I deserve.”
“I’ve only looked upon Onuphrious once,” Iaheru admits, staring blankly ahead, “He disgusts me. It’s a bitter drink to swallow, but he should disgust you too.”
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Her mind sharpened as her son spoke, as he was a gem to Onuphrious, he was golden to Iaheru. Raised in her image, and the images of so many others unspoken in their time, she couldn’t imagine the conflict of blood he felt welled up inside a young man’s heart. It seemed as if all of her children suffered tribulations in the eve of Aylul, the cooler weather setting into the night with purple hued horizons cloaking the evils of night. Wherever Neithotep wandered, whomever Akhenaten traipsed with, Nenet her constant and innocent, Nefertari attached to the unspoken monster, Iaheru took to her storehouses, if only to abandon her flock and mourn the man in front of her. His pain her fault in part.
Iaheru watched the flickers of the candles, eye brimming with tears unfell in the past months. Most of her outlet had been anger before opium clouded her fires. A bristle of wind rattles papyrus stored in wooden cubbies imported, the banner of Hei Sheifa beat against the stone outside, tassels rustling and its pride shining through golden embroidery. How proud she was to have brought up a house prized for peace and commerce. And how proud she was of her son before her, an archer, now a Deputy General. Her eyes mimic candles in their sway back to her thinning son. Now this was his emerging forte Iaheru wished to cultivate, the ability to will the impossible to fruition as she had once before. “You speak a mild heresy,” she smiled, white teeth glimmering with pride. “Speak more, what of a name?”
Her insides burst with happiness, a distinct fervor. She alone had the capital to fund his heresy, her home with its olive grove serving as a saraaya away from the glimpses of Isetheperu and Iahotep, servants loyal to the divisive matriarch. Would she leave the glory of Hei Sheifa, her defining title, her lifelong ambition, her children for her one child? How could she give the world to all five children? Could she subdivide among the worthy? Did she already do so with her compliance regarding Neithotep and Akhenaten, oil to the Sheifa’s water against the prow of ships. For all their familial disgrace, the two certainly bathed in the benefits of its rosewater. And yet, here was her son that bathed in gold and wished to return. A Prince of Egypt, a son of a God, here before her wishing to start anew and return to the old simultaneously. A visage of the sun falling on rigid waters conducive to wreckage.
A manicured hand falls atop of his. “My son,” she whispered, her pain channeling through his palms in a mutual transfer of energy, the best of her blood flowing in his veins as her head picks up. “You were born into complication and this is a sin of my making.”
“You will always be of me,” A singular tear drops down a commoner’s cheek, made noble by a stiff lip and Onuphrious’ name. In that moment she couldn’t bear to be alive, the truth of her life made tangible, the man before her revealed and more vulnerable than she. Lies had thrust him, her treasure, to danger, into a pit of vipers disguised by frescoes and mosaics her son went. Along with Hathesput, they were cornered on all sides by poison and harship, Sutekh certainly with death. “You will always be of me and it isn’t enough,” her tears cascade, voice cracking, “Of but common blood, ascending through what was once love before I lied.”
“He banished you from my home,” Iaheru grips his hand tightly, nails imposing on the warrior’s tanned skin. She remembers that day in a haze, her husband infuriated with her lies as she placed herself between a combative Onuphrious and Sutekh. She kept herself in front of her son for the sake of example, for if she stood near Onuphrious she was certain she’d strike him. Instead, she crumpled at the foot of her fountain, the forked tongue spilling over with glistening rosewater in the beating sun of a summer afternoon, “How could you do this to me!” Iaheru screeched. The entire Ghani district could hear her family’s dismantling in her home. Onuphrious evicted and disowned Sutekh in a home that wasn’t even his.
“I can’t bear to look at him. I see his shortcomings in them all even though I shouldn’t.” She references her children, once thinking that Onuphrious provided no harm to their children’s blood, but now doubting her estimation and resolving herself of motherly guilt.
“And your siblings,” Iaheru lifts her hand from Sutekh’s, furrowing a brow just now developing lines of stress. “Have you spoken with them? I know Nenet mourns you in a profound way. Unable to cope with leaving much, her stutter tenfold… I keep myself busy whereas she seems to wallow.” Her teeth tighten, wondering if he even wished to hear of them, “I will never let Egpyt forget who I am and the respect I deserve.”
“I’ve only looked upon Onuphrious once,” Iaheru admits, staring blankly ahead, “He disgusts me. It’s a bitter drink to swallow, but he should disgust you too.”
Her mind sharpened as her son spoke, as he was a gem to Onuphrious, he was golden to Iaheru. Raised in her image, and the images of so many others unspoken in their time, she couldn’t imagine the conflict of blood he felt welled up inside a young man’s heart. It seemed as if all of her children suffered tribulations in the eve of Aylul, the cooler weather setting into the night with purple hued horizons cloaking the evils of night. Wherever Neithotep wandered, whomever Akhenaten traipsed with, Nenet her constant and innocent, Nefertari attached to the unspoken monster, Iaheru took to her storehouses, if only to abandon her flock and mourn the man in front of her. His pain her fault in part.
Iaheru watched the flickers of the candles, eye brimming with tears unfell in the past months. Most of her outlet had been anger before opium clouded her fires. A bristle of wind rattles papyrus stored in wooden cubbies imported, the banner of Hei Sheifa beat against the stone outside, tassels rustling and its pride shining through golden embroidery. How proud she was to have brought up a house prized for peace and commerce. And how proud she was of her son before her, an archer, now a Deputy General. Her eyes mimic candles in their sway back to her thinning son. Now this was his emerging forte Iaheru wished to cultivate, the ability to will the impossible to fruition as she had once before. “You speak a mild heresy,” she smiled, white teeth glimmering with pride. “Speak more, what of a name?”
Her insides burst with happiness, a distinct fervor. She alone had the capital to fund his heresy, her home with its olive grove serving as a saraaya away from the glimpses of Isetheperu and Iahotep, servants loyal to the divisive matriarch. Would she leave the glory of Hei Sheifa, her defining title, her lifelong ambition, her children for her one child? How could she give the world to all five children? Could she subdivide among the worthy? Did she already do so with her compliance regarding Neithotep and Akhenaten, oil to the Sheifa’s water against the prow of ships. For all their familial disgrace, the two certainly bathed in the benefits of its rosewater. And yet, here was her son that bathed in gold and wished to return. A Prince of Egypt, a son of a God, here before her wishing to start anew and return to the old simultaneously. A visage of the sun falling on rigid waters conducive to wreckage.
A manicured hand falls atop of his. “My son,” she whispered, her pain channeling through his palms in a mutual transfer of energy, the best of her blood flowing in his veins as her head picks up. “You were born into complication and this is a sin of my making.”
“You will always be of me,” A singular tear drops down a commoner’s cheek, made noble by a stiff lip and Onuphrious’ name. In that moment she couldn’t bear to be alive, the truth of her life made tangible, the man before her revealed and more vulnerable than she. Lies had thrust him, her treasure, to danger, into a pit of vipers disguised by frescoes and mosaics her son went. Along with Hathesput, they were cornered on all sides by poison and harship, Sutekh certainly with death. “You will always be of me and it isn’t enough,” her tears cascade, voice cracking, “Of but common blood, ascending through what was once love before I lied.”
“He banished you from my home,” Iaheru grips his hand tightly, nails imposing on the warrior’s tanned skin. She remembers that day in a haze, her husband infuriated with her lies as she placed herself between a combative Onuphrious and Sutekh. She kept herself in front of her son for the sake of example, for if she stood near Onuphrious she was certain she’d strike him. Instead, she crumpled at the foot of her fountain, the forked tongue spilling over with glistening rosewater in the beating sun of a summer afternoon, “How could you do this to me!” Iaheru screeched. The entire Ghani district could hear her family’s dismantling in her home. Onuphrious evicted and disowned Sutekh in a home that wasn’t even his.
“I can’t bear to look at him. I see his shortcomings in them all even though I shouldn’t.” She references her children, once thinking that Onuphrious provided no harm to their children’s blood, but now doubting her estimation and resolving herself of motherly guilt.
“And your siblings,” Iaheru lifts her hand from Sutekh’s, furrowing a brow just now developing lines of stress. “Have you spoken with them? I know Nenet mourns you in a profound way. Unable to cope with leaving much, her stutter tenfold… I keep myself busy whereas she seems to wallow.” Her teeth tighten, wondering if he even wished to hear of them, “I will never let Egpyt forget who I am and the respect I deserve.”
“I’ve only looked upon Onuphrious once,” Iaheru admits, staring blankly ahead, “He disgusts me. It’s a bitter drink to swallow, but he should disgust you too.”