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It had been two days (or maybe it was three?) since Neithotep had left her family’s home in Cairo in the middle of the night, stumbling down darkened streets in a haze of crippling pain. Physical and emotional agony alike gelled together into perfect misery, dragging her steps further and further from her mother and Zoser while she desperately sought reprieve from the wounds gashed open with foolish confessions. Why she had thought Iaheru would care, why Nia had even said anything in the first place…
Gods, what was she thinking?
A frantic bid for attention, perhaps, from a woman so caught up in her own problems she couldn’t seem to notice what was happening with her own children. A scream of ‘See me!’ expelled through swollen lips, a cry for her mother answered with seemingly frosty indifference. What more is there to say?
Those words were repeated in a bitter litany as Nia drowned her sorrows. Seedy opium dens and dirty taverns passed through the periphery of her dazed absence, the coldly posed question of, ‘What more is there to say?’ always lingering just on the edge of her conscience. What more was there to say? Everything! There was everything to say! Did Iaheru not realize what Nia was telling her? Did she not care? Or had such a revelation overwhelmed her? Was that why she had reacted in the way she did?
Whatever it was, Nia told herself she didn’t care, burying the sting of it beneath an alcohol and opium induced numbness. It was out in the open now, her greatest pain, waved aside by her own mother. What more could she do? What more could she say?
It was on the third day of her bender that she finally started to come to, to sober up enough to realize where she was and what she was doing. She couldn’t even vaguely recall how she’d ended up on the floor of the Tears of the Nile, but at least she still seemed intact. Had they just… let her pass out here? Had she gotten into a fight? Cautiously reaching up to her face, she could feel no tenderness, so perhaps it wasn’t that. Whatever it was, she needed to leave, because the barkeep was shouting at her that very fact. Okay, maybe she had caused more trouble than she realized.
“Sorry,” she muttered sheepishly as she pulled herself to her feet, a couple of the regulars offering her a sympathetic smile. Why were they looking at her like that? What had she said? What had she done?
“This should cover… whatever,” she said as she walked up to the bar, not meeting the irritated man’s gaze. Emptying the last few coins from her purse, she pushed them over before hastily backing off and heading for the door—like a dog with its tailed tucked between its legs.
Blaring sunlight narrowed her eyes as Nia stepped outside into the bright afternoon, shielding her face from the glare. She needed to get home and get herself into her actual bed, no matter how little appeal such an idea held. If the gods were kind, she could bypass her family entirely as she sought the sanctity of her own room.
The gods were not kind, as it turned out, and it was foolish that Nia had ever expected them to be. Creeping inside the front door and sidling along the wall as her gaze flicked about for signs of anyone else. So far, everything seemed all right, and she thought she might actually make it to her room unnoticed. Once she went to ascend the stairs, however…
Iaheru blocked her path, and Nia was cornered. She had been spotted, and there was nowhere for her to go unless she simply left again. But without any money left, filthy and disheveled, that wasn’t really an option either. Drawing herself up and squaring her shoulders, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at her mother, gaze unblinking as she fought to quell the emotion that threatened to roar right back to the surface.
“I’m going to bed,” she announced, nodding to the stairs. No greeting, no explanation of where she’d been. Perhaps Iaheru would assume the worst, that she’d been in the pharaoh’s presence this whole time. Good. Nia hoped she did.
“Please get out of my way.”
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It had been two days (or maybe it was three?) since Neithotep had left her family’s home in Cairo in the middle of the night, stumbling down darkened streets in a haze of crippling pain. Physical and emotional agony alike gelled together into perfect misery, dragging her steps further and further from her mother and Zoser while she desperately sought reprieve from the wounds gashed open with foolish confessions. Why she had thought Iaheru would care, why Nia had even said anything in the first place…
Gods, what was she thinking?
A frantic bid for attention, perhaps, from a woman so caught up in her own problems she couldn’t seem to notice what was happening with her own children. A scream of ‘See me!’ expelled through swollen lips, a cry for her mother answered with seemingly frosty indifference. What more is there to say?
Those words were repeated in a bitter litany as Nia drowned her sorrows. Seedy opium dens and dirty taverns passed through the periphery of her dazed absence, the coldly posed question of, ‘What more is there to say?’ always lingering just on the edge of her conscience. What more was there to say? Everything! There was everything to say! Did Iaheru not realize what Nia was telling her? Did she not care? Or had such a revelation overwhelmed her? Was that why she had reacted in the way she did?
Whatever it was, Nia told herself she didn’t care, burying the sting of it beneath an alcohol and opium induced numbness. It was out in the open now, her greatest pain, waved aside by her own mother. What more could she do? What more could she say?
It was on the third day of her bender that she finally started to come to, to sober up enough to realize where she was and what she was doing. She couldn’t even vaguely recall how she’d ended up on the floor of the Tears of the Nile, but at least she still seemed intact. Had they just… let her pass out here? Had she gotten into a fight? Cautiously reaching up to her face, she could feel no tenderness, so perhaps it wasn’t that. Whatever it was, she needed to leave, because the barkeep was shouting at her that very fact. Okay, maybe she had caused more trouble than she realized.
“Sorry,” she muttered sheepishly as she pulled herself to her feet, a couple of the regulars offering her a sympathetic smile. Why were they looking at her like that? What had she said? What had she done?
“This should cover… whatever,” she said as she walked up to the bar, not meeting the irritated man’s gaze. Emptying the last few coins from her purse, she pushed them over before hastily backing off and heading for the door—like a dog with its tailed tucked between its legs.
Blaring sunlight narrowed her eyes as Nia stepped outside into the bright afternoon, shielding her face from the glare. She needed to get home and get herself into her actual bed, no matter how little appeal such an idea held. If the gods were kind, she could bypass her family entirely as she sought the sanctity of her own room.
The gods were not kind, as it turned out, and it was foolish that Nia had ever expected them to be. Creeping inside the front door and sidling along the wall as her gaze flicked about for signs of anyone else. So far, everything seemed all right, and she thought she might actually make it to her room unnoticed. Once she went to ascend the stairs, however…
Iaheru blocked her path, and Nia was cornered. She had been spotted, and there was nowhere for her to go unless she simply left again. But without any money left, filthy and disheveled, that wasn’t really an option either. Drawing herself up and squaring her shoulders, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at her mother, gaze unblinking as she fought to quell the emotion that threatened to roar right back to the surface.
“I’m going to bed,” she announced, nodding to the stairs. No greeting, no explanation of where she’d been. Perhaps Iaheru would assume the worst, that she’d been in the pharaoh’s presence this whole time. Good. Nia hoped she did.
“Please get out of my way.”
It had been two days (or maybe it was three?) since Neithotep had left her family’s home in Cairo in the middle of the night, stumbling down darkened streets in a haze of crippling pain. Physical and emotional agony alike gelled together into perfect misery, dragging her steps further and further from her mother and Zoser while she desperately sought reprieve from the wounds gashed open with foolish confessions. Why she had thought Iaheru would care, why Nia had even said anything in the first place…
Gods, what was she thinking?
A frantic bid for attention, perhaps, from a woman so caught up in her own problems she couldn’t seem to notice what was happening with her own children. A scream of ‘See me!’ expelled through swollen lips, a cry for her mother answered with seemingly frosty indifference. What more is there to say?
Those words were repeated in a bitter litany as Nia drowned her sorrows. Seedy opium dens and dirty taverns passed through the periphery of her dazed absence, the coldly posed question of, ‘What more is there to say?’ always lingering just on the edge of her conscience. What more was there to say? Everything! There was everything to say! Did Iaheru not realize what Nia was telling her? Did she not care? Or had such a revelation overwhelmed her? Was that why she had reacted in the way she did?
Whatever it was, Nia told herself she didn’t care, burying the sting of it beneath an alcohol and opium induced numbness. It was out in the open now, her greatest pain, waved aside by her own mother. What more could she do? What more could she say?
It was on the third day of her bender that she finally started to come to, to sober up enough to realize where she was and what she was doing. She couldn’t even vaguely recall how she’d ended up on the floor of the Tears of the Nile, but at least she still seemed intact. Had they just… let her pass out here? Had she gotten into a fight? Cautiously reaching up to her face, she could feel no tenderness, so perhaps it wasn’t that. Whatever it was, she needed to leave, because the barkeep was shouting at her that very fact. Okay, maybe she had caused more trouble than she realized.
“Sorry,” she muttered sheepishly as she pulled herself to her feet, a couple of the regulars offering her a sympathetic smile. Why were they looking at her like that? What had she said? What had she done?
“This should cover… whatever,” she said as she walked up to the bar, not meeting the irritated man’s gaze. Emptying the last few coins from her purse, she pushed them over before hastily backing off and heading for the door—like a dog with its tailed tucked between its legs.
Blaring sunlight narrowed her eyes as Nia stepped outside into the bright afternoon, shielding her face from the glare. She needed to get home and get herself into her actual bed, no matter how little appeal such an idea held. If the gods were kind, she could bypass her family entirely as she sought the sanctity of her own room.
The gods were not kind, as it turned out, and it was foolish that Nia had ever expected them to be. Creeping inside the front door and sidling along the wall as her gaze flicked about for signs of anyone else. So far, everything seemed all right, and she thought she might actually make it to her room unnoticed. Once she went to ascend the stairs, however…
Iaheru blocked her path, and Nia was cornered. She had been spotted, and there was nowhere for her to go unless she simply left again. But without any money left, filthy and disheveled, that wasn’t really an option either. Drawing herself up and squaring her shoulders, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at her mother, gaze unblinking as she fought to quell the emotion that threatened to roar right back to the surface.
“I’m going to bed,” she announced, nodding to the stairs. No greeting, no explanation of where she’d been. Perhaps Iaheru would assume the worst, that she’d been in the pharaoh’s presence this whole time. Good. Nia hoped she did.
“Please get out of my way.”
Her home was one of the few save for Evening Star that had stairs, towering above others in the Ghani district, a testament to her strength and fortitude. The Gods had truly shone upon Iaheru H’Sheifa, once Iaheru of Cairo from the upper merchant’s muddy banks. The Gods dimmed their lights on occasion.They turned the other mighty cheek during desperate nights, and now the inkinesss of the night, dotted with dead pharaohs, had impressed a prophecy to her opposite daughter.
Iaheru recalled the dinner she and Neithotep shared on the eve of a courting with Sirdar H’Haikaddad. The echoes of choices reverberated on the stairwell, their target reflecting from through Iaheru then to Zoser in a depressive fury. Iaheru was famed for her temper, and now famed for the missing triangles in the precipice of her ears crusted with flaking blood. A pristine woman marred by the continuation of a night in distant lands and shores visible from the heap of wealth she enjoyed independent of a distant husband.
Iaheru did the only thing she knew how to confront her daughter, as she did on many evenings to rationalize with Neithotep, playing mind games as she would with Sutekh and Nefertari to bend them to strong will. Neithotep never willed herself to logic, instead taking a flighty approach in the ever discerning eyes of her mother. Now, they were eye to eye, sharing the same marred pasts, and if not by blood, by the bond of women it was their duty to bend the power of men.
“Never forgive me, Neithotep,” Iaheru closes her arms around her core, unable to choke out words internally, yet they emerge externally in her cool, authoritative demeanor. “Never forgive me for what I did, but understand…”
“I could not bear to face my child and my past on the same night. I’ve failed you as a mother, but never as capitally as I did last night.”
And her arms tighten, hair braided even tighter to her scalp and oiled, slick in the sun. “What else is there to say?" She scratches between the rows, strands straining against her manicured nails. "I was begging you to say the words. I was begging for the truth to emerge simply from your mouth. I’m not as smart a woman as those fable me to be. I hope you never forgive me, only come to understand each other in a way only we understand.”
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Sept 15, 2020 1:06:10 GMT
Posted In Seeing Double on Sept 15, 2020 1:06:10 GMT
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Her home was one of the few save for Evening Star that had stairs, towering above others in the Ghani district, a testament to her strength and fortitude. The Gods had truly shone upon Iaheru H’Sheifa, once Iaheru of Cairo from the upper merchant’s muddy banks. The Gods dimmed their lights on occasion.They turned the other mighty cheek during desperate nights, and now the inkinesss of the night, dotted with dead pharaohs, had impressed a prophecy to her opposite daughter.
Iaheru recalled the dinner she and Neithotep shared on the eve of a courting with Sirdar H’Haikaddad. The echoes of choices reverberated on the stairwell, their target reflecting from through Iaheru then to Zoser in a depressive fury. Iaheru was famed for her temper, and now famed for the missing triangles in the precipice of her ears crusted with flaking blood. A pristine woman marred by the continuation of a night in distant lands and shores visible from the heap of wealth she enjoyed independent of a distant husband.
Iaheru did the only thing she knew how to confront her daughter, as she did on many evenings to rationalize with Neithotep, playing mind games as she would with Sutekh and Nefertari to bend them to strong will. Neithotep never willed herself to logic, instead taking a flighty approach in the ever discerning eyes of her mother. Now, they were eye to eye, sharing the same marred pasts, and if not by blood, by the bond of women it was their duty to bend the power of men.
“Never forgive me, Neithotep,” Iaheru closes her arms around her core, unable to choke out words internally, yet they emerge externally in her cool, authoritative demeanor. “Never forgive me for what I did, but understand…”
“I could not bear to face my child and my past on the same night. I’ve failed you as a mother, but never as capitally as I did last night.”
And her arms tighten, hair braided even tighter to her scalp and oiled, slick in the sun. “What else is there to say?" She scratches between the rows, strands straining against her manicured nails. "I was begging you to say the words. I was begging for the truth to emerge simply from your mouth. I’m not as smart a woman as those fable me to be. I hope you never forgive me, only come to understand each other in a way only we understand.”
Her home was one of the few save for Evening Star that had stairs, towering above others in the Ghani district, a testament to her strength and fortitude. The Gods had truly shone upon Iaheru H’Sheifa, once Iaheru of Cairo from the upper merchant’s muddy banks. The Gods dimmed their lights on occasion.They turned the other mighty cheek during desperate nights, and now the inkinesss of the night, dotted with dead pharaohs, had impressed a prophecy to her opposite daughter.
Iaheru recalled the dinner she and Neithotep shared on the eve of a courting with Sirdar H’Haikaddad. The echoes of choices reverberated on the stairwell, their target reflecting from through Iaheru then to Zoser in a depressive fury. Iaheru was famed for her temper, and now famed for the missing triangles in the precipice of her ears crusted with flaking blood. A pristine woman marred by the continuation of a night in distant lands and shores visible from the heap of wealth she enjoyed independent of a distant husband.
Iaheru did the only thing she knew how to confront her daughter, as she did on many evenings to rationalize with Neithotep, playing mind games as she would with Sutekh and Nefertari to bend them to strong will. Neithotep never willed herself to logic, instead taking a flighty approach in the ever discerning eyes of her mother. Now, they were eye to eye, sharing the same marred pasts, and if not by blood, by the bond of women it was their duty to bend the power of men.
“Never forgive me, Neithotep,” Iaheru closes her arms around her core, unable to choke out words internally, yet they emerge externally in her cool, authoritative demeanor. “Never forgive me for what I did, but understand…”
“I could not bear to face my child and my past on the same night. I’ve failed you as a mother, but never as capitally as I did last night.”
And her arms tighten, hair braided even tighter to her scalp and oiled, slick in the sun. “What else is there to say?" She scratches between the rows, strands straining against her manicured nails. "I was begging you to say the words. I was begging for the truth to emerge simply from your mouth. I’m not as smart a woman as those fable me to be. I hope you never forgive me, only come to understand each other in a way only we understand.”
Never forgive me, Neithotep.
Cold eyes stared down her mother, an uncertain flicker passing over her features as unexpected words spilled from Iaheru’s lips. Never forgive her? Easily done. Nia never intended to.
I could not bear to face my child and my past on the same night. I’ve failed you as a mother, but never as capitally as I did last night.
At that, more than a flicker passed over her face, brows drawing together in a frown. She had expected a fight, her mother’s retreat behind a defensive shell, but this? Admitting her faults aloud for Nia to freely hear? Taking the fault on herself? She wasn’t sure how to react to this, if she could take it for what it was. Nia’s trust was not easily given where the Sirdsett was concerned, and so the look she leveled on Iaheru was a skeptical one.
“Yes, you did,” she replied with a bite in her tone, jaw tightening. She wasn’t going to coddle her or tiptoe around her feelings; if Iaheru could bluntly say she was wrong, so could Nia. She was wrong, gods damn it, and it was about time she could look at the younger woman, a reflection of herself, and admit it. She had failed Nia time and time again, but that night overtook them all. The one time her daughter reached out, desperate for understanding, for comfort… What more is there to say?
Iaheru said the words again, Nia almost flinching at the echo of them across her conscience. She went on to explain her seeming indifference, excusing it as an attempt to draw the confession from her in plain words. Bitter, Nia almost laughed, shaking her head in disbelief.
“You are a smarter woman than all fable you to be, Mother, and you and I both know that. Maybe you can pretend that it was ignorance that drove you, but I’m smarter than that, too.” Scoffing, she looked away, veiling the still festering wound with her own callous disregard. She was molded in Iaheru’s image, was she not? What more did she expect?
“You knew what I was saying as soon as I said it,” she hissed, biting off her words in a frustrated exhale. “You just couldn’t accept what’s been right in front of your eyes for weeks.” At that, she did turn to look back at Iaheru, the pain shining through in a dark gaze even as the furious cast of her features remained the same.
“And even now, you seek to placate me with confessions of guilt, begging me not to forgive you when you haven’t even apologized.” Tears shone in her eyes, tears impatiently blinked away as she stared down her mother. “I do understand you, more than I ever wanted to. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to understand me. How cruel that such an understanding should come like this.”
Suddenly aware of the open nature of the foyer, of lashing words echoing from stone walls, Nia glanced around to ensure they were still alone. “Your secret is open and given life, but mine is not. I don’t want to talk about this any more. Not here.”
As angry as she was, Nia knew Iaheru was one of the only people in Egypt who knew what she was going through right now. And it was true; she was desperate for her mother’s understanding, more desperate than she had ever been. How had the Sirdsett carried on all these years, knowing what she knew? Bearing the burden of an illegitimate child on top of it, something Nia was adamant in preventing, Iaheru had pressed on, rising to heights a woman of her birth could only dream of. Even if the daughter did not hold the same ambition, she longed for the same composure to carry such weight.
Or a way to be free of it.
“If you will not let me sleep, can we go somewhere more private, please?” she forced through gritted teeth, as much of a concession as she was willing to give, falling into Iaheru’s ploy as neatly as her mother had likely expected. “All walls in Cairo have ears.”
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Sept 17, 2020 19:04:54 GMT
Posted In Seeing Double on Sept 17, 2020 19:04:54 GMT
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Never forgive me, Neithotep.
Cold eyes stared down her mother, an uncertain flicker passing over her features as unexpected words spilled from Iaheru’s lips. Never forgive her? Easily done. Nia never intended to.
I could not bear to face my child and my past on the same night. I’ve failed you as a mother, but never as capitally as I did last night.
At that, more than a flicker passed over her face, brows drawing together in a frown. She had expected a fight, her mother’s retreat behind a defensive shell, but this? Admitting her faults aloud for Nia to freely hear? Taking the fault on herself? She wasn’t sure how to react to this, if she could take it for what it was. Nia’s trust was not easily given where the Sirdsett was concerned, and so the look she leveled on Iaheru was a skeptical one.
“Yes, you did,” she replied with a bite in her tone, jaw tightening. She wasn’t going to coddle her or tiptoe around her feelings; if Iaheru could bluntly say she was wrong, so could Nia. She was wrong, gods damn it, and it was about time she could look at the younger woman, a reflection of herself, and admit it. She had failed Nia time and time again, but that night overtook them all. The one time her daughter reached out, desperate for understanding, for comfort… What more is there to say?
Iaheru said the words again, Nia almost flinching at the echo of them across her conscience. She went on to explain her seeming indifference, excusing it as an attempt to draw the confession from her in plain words. Bitter, Nia almost laughed, shaking her head in disbelief.
“You are a smarter woman than all fable you to be, Mother, and you and I both know that. Maybe you can pretend that it was ignorance that drove you, but I’m smarter than that, too.” Scoffing, she looked away, veiling the still festering wound with her own callous disregard. She was molded in Iaheru’s image, was she not? What more did she expect?
“You knew what I was saying as soon as I said it,” she hissed, biting off her words in a frustrated exhale. “You just couldn’t accept what’s been right in front of your eyes for weeks.” At that, she did turn to look back at Iaheru, the pain shining through in a dark gaze even as the furious cast of her features remained the same.
“And even now, you seek to placate me with confessions of guilt, begging me not to forgive you when you haven’t even apologized.” Tears shone in her eyes, tears impatiently blinked away as she stared down her mother. “I do understand you, more than I ever wanted to. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to understand me. How cruel that such an understanding should come like this.”
Suddenly aware of the open nature of the foyer, of lashing words echoing from stone walls, Nia glanced around to ensure they were still alone. “Your secret is open and given life, but mine is not. I don’t want to talk about this any more. Not here.”
As angry as she was, Nia knew Iaheru was one of the only people in Egypt who knew what she was going through right now. And it was true; she was desperate for her mother’s understanding, more desperate than she had ever been. How had the Sirdsett carried on all these years, knowing what she knew? Bearing the burden of an illegitimate child on top of it, something Nia was adamant in preventing, Iaheru had pressed on, rising to heights a woman of her birth could only dream of. Even if the daughter did not hold the same ambition, she longed for the same composure to carry such weight.
Or a way to be free of it.
“If you will not let me sleep, can we go somewhere more private, please?” she forced through gritted teeth, as much of a concession as she was willing to give, falling into Iaheru’s ploy as neatly as her mother had likely expected. “All walls in Cairo have ears.”
Never forgive me, Neithotep.
Cold eyes stared down her mother, an uncertain flicker passing over her features as unexpected words spilled from Iaheru’s lips. Never forgive her? Easily done. Nia never intended to.
I could not bear to face my child and my past on the same night. I’ve failed you as a mother, but never as capitally as I did last night.
At that, more than a flicker passed over her face, brows drawing together in a frown. She had expected a fight, her mother’s retreat behind a defensive shell, but this? Admitting her faults aloud for Nia to freely hear? Taking the fault on herself? She wasn’t sure how to react to this, if she could take it for what it was. Nia’s trust was not easily given where the Sirdsett was concerned, and so the look she leveled on Iaheru was a skeptical one.
“Yes, you did,” she replied with a bite in her tone, jaw tightening. She wasn’t going to coddle her or tiptoe around her feelings; if Iaheru could bluntly say she was wrong, so could Nia. She was wrong, gods damn it, and it was about time she could look at the younger woman, a reflection of herself, and admit it. She had failed Nia time and time again, but that night overtook them all. The one time her daughter reached out, desperate for understanding, for comfort… What more is there to say?
Iaheru said the words again, Nia almost flinching at the echo of them across her conscience. She went on to explain her seeming indifference, excusing it as an attempt to draw the confession from her in plain words. Bitter, Nia almost laughed, shaking her head in disbelief.
“You are a smarter woman than all fable you to be, Mother, and you and I both know that. Maybe you can pretend that it was ignorance that drove you, but I’m smarter than that, too.” Scoffing, she looked away, veiling the still festering wound with her own callous disregard. She was molded in Iaheru’s image, was she not? What more did she expect?
“You knew what I was saying as soon as I said it,” she hissed, biting off her words in a frustrated exhale. “You just couldn’t accept what’s been right in front of your eyes for weeks.” At that, she did turn to look back at Iaheru, the pain shining through in a dark gaze even as the furious cast of her features remained the same.
“And even now, you seek to placate me with confessions of guilt, begging me not to forgive you when you haven’t even apologized.” Tears shone in her eyes, tears impatiently blinked away as she stared down her mother. “I do understand you, more than I ever wanted to. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to understand me. How cruel that such an understanding should come like this.”
Suddenly aware of the open nature of the foyer, of lashing words echoing from stone walls, Nia glanced around to ensure they were still alone. “Your secret is open and given life, but mine is not. I don’t want to talk about this any more. Not here.”
As angry as she was, Nia knew Iaheru was one of the only people in Egypt who knew what she was going through right now. And it was true; she was desperate for her mother’s understanding, more desperate than she had ever been. How had the Sirdsett carried on all these years, knowing what she knew? Bearing the burden of an illegitimate child on top of it, something Nia was adamant in preventing, Iaheru had pressed on, rising to heights a woman of her birth could only dream of. Even if the daughter did not hold the same ambition, she longed for the same composure to carry such weight.
Or a way to be free of it.
“If you will not let me sleep, can we go somewhere more private, please?” she forced through gritted teeth, as much of a concession as she was willing to give, falling into Iaheru’s ploy as neatly as her mother had likely expected. “All walls in Cairo have ears.”
Iaheru remained unfazed at her daughter’s words, but her temper raged in the pit of her belly, threatening to rise up her dry throat and set the home ablaze. Destruction beyond the wreckage she made nights ago wouldn’t resolve her daughter’s pain. And despite the differences, and now regretful similarities, they shared, Iaheru couldn’t bear the thought of her children suffering. Neithotep was suffering.
Truthfully, like most aspects of her daughter looking at her, Iaheru didn’t know what she was suggesting. She didn’t notice the bruises or mark the absences as abnormal. Long ago she abandoned the impressment of noble life on her two troubled children and cleaned her hands of their mischief by remaining blissfully unaware. This too had failed them. She doubted either were happy and neither were safe. It was only three months prior that a man ripped her scarf off in the street, and merely four before they were robbed blindly and the sales foyer in Thebes burned with the demise of Hei Sheifa. All of these collective shortfalls half of the destiny the two shared.
Was it her misplaced judgement at the H’Haikaddad gathering? Iaheru’s mere lapse in applause for a spiteful Pharaoh that put her daughters in the sights of a predator? She’d go back and kiss the Pharaoh’s feet should fate be reversed, the vile man’s leather sandals a preferable destiny to the proudest, most ridiculed woman of Egypt. A whisper on Cairo’s walls her own daughter would inherit.
“I am not a routine liar,” Iaheru’s nostrils flare before she reigns in bitterness. “The one lie that has defined my life...” her voice raises and lowers, reminded of Neithotep’s warnings of listening walls and Iaheru’s recent lack of caution. She takes lead over Neithotep, leading the woman to Iaheru’s study to the immediate right of the stairs. A bone inlay desk stood at the precipice of the room, imposing and regal before two chaises and a low, wooden table. Iaheru closes the door behind her, the matriarch foregoing the prominent chair at the head of the room, if only to meet Neithotep on common ground.
Once in private, Iaheru takes stock of her bruised, tired daughter, wondering if now was the right time to settle grievances. Was it not intoxication, of which fatigue certainly counted, that brought them to this rift? The weight of apology fell on her chest, but was she truly sorry? “I’m sorry for what I couldn’t do for you. Now more than ever and the past included. I am not a routine liar.” Part of her repeated that sentiment for affirmation she would not receive. “And though I am cold I do love you in ways you won’t accept. And I’ve tried. By Gods I’ve tried.” Iaheru tried settling into the couch but couldn’t find herself comfortable. So then she remained rigid as the truth between the low table and her daughter.
Her mind flickers to Greece, how she healed there after violation, her times spent aside Onuphrious by necessity of culture. “I’ve tried everything I can, Neithotep, short of asking you. What can I do for you?” Hei Sheifa had a reputation faltering, but wealth beyond measure. Iaheru could do everything short of pulling the moon from the sky for Neithotep, and even then she wasn’t convinced it would be enough for the battered woman before her, “Do you seek to lie as I have? Perhaps yours will stay secret. Do you seek comfort? Reasons? Because I’ll tell you as much as I know…”
“You won’t find it.” Not through love, not through warm comforts, even cold comforts lacked their assurance, not through inevitable self loathing, not through calculations, not through all the riches in the world, not through the dust of numbing opium, not through soul searching and gods. Maybe in death, certainly in vengeance to Iaheru, but cures for wounds inconsolable festered lifelong. Best to cope and avoid the sins of her mother before her, a woman with faults, poised as a virtuous liar and a suspected adulterer.
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Sept 18, 2020 14:25:26 GMT
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Iaheru remained unfazed at her daughter’s words, but her temper raged in the pit of her belly, threatening to rise up her dry throat and set the home ablaze. Destruction beyond the wreckage she made nights ago wouldn’t resolve her daughter’s pain. And despite the differences, and now regretful similarities, they shared, Iaheru couldn’t bear the thought of her children suffering. Neithotep was suffering.
Truthfully, like most aspects of her daughter looking at her, Iaheru didn’t know what she was suggesting. She didn’t notice the bruises or mark the absences as abnormal. Long ago she abandoned the impressment of noble life on her two troubled children and cleaned her hands of their mischief by remaining blissfully unaware. This too had failed them. She doubted either were happy and neither were safe. It was only three months prior that a man ripped her scarf off in the street, and merely four before they were robbed blindly and the sales foyer in Thebes burned with the demise of Hei Sheifa. All of these collective shortfalls half of the destiny the two shared.
Was it her misplaced judgement at the H’Haikaddad gathering? Iaheru’s mere lapse in applause for a spiteful Pharaoh that put her daughters in the sights of a predator? She’d go back and kiss the Pharaoh’s feet should fate be reversed, the vile man’s leather sandals a preferable destiny to the proudest, most ridiculed woman of Egypt. A whisper on Cairo’s walls her own daughter would inherit.
“I am not a routine liar,” Iaheru’s nostrils flare before she reigns in bitterness. “The one lie that has defined my life...” her voice raises and lowers, reminded of Neithotep’s warnings of listening walls and Iaheru’s recent lack of caution. She takes lead over Neithotep, leading the woman to Iaheru’s study to the immediate right of the stairs. A bone inlay desk stood at the precipice of the room, imposing and regal before two chaises and a low, wooden table. Iaheru closes the door behind her, the matriarch foregoing the prominent chair at the head of the room, if only to meet Neithotep on common ground.
Once in private, Iaheru takes stock of her bruised, tired daughter, wondering if now was the right time to settle grievances. Was it not intoxication, of which fatigue certainly counted, that brought them to this rift? The weight of apology fell on her chest, but was she truly sorry? “I’m sorry for what I couldn’t do for you. Now more than ever and the past included. I am not a routine liar.” Part of her repeated that sentiment for affirmation she would not receive. “And though I am cold I do love you in ways you won’t accept. And I’ve tried. By Gods I’ve tried.” Iaheru tried settling into the couch but couldn’t find herself comfortable. So then she remained rigid as the truth between the low table and her daughter.
Her mind flickers to Greece, how she healed there after violation, her times spent aside Onuphrious by necessity of culture. “I’ve tried everything I can, Neithotep, short of asking you. What can I do for you?” Hei Sheifa had a reputation faltering, but wealth beyond measure. Iaheru could do everything short of pulling the moon from the sky for Neithotep, and even then she wasn’t convinced it would be enough for the battered woman before her, “Do you seek to lie as I have? Perhaps yours will stay secret. Do you seek comfort? Reasons? Because I’ll tell you as much as I know…”
“You won’t find it.” Not through love, not through warm comforts, even cold comforts lacked their assurance, not through inevitable self loathing, not through calculations, not through all the riches in the world, not through the dust of numbing opium, not through soul searching and gods. Maybe in death, certainly in vengeance to Iaheru, but cures for wounds inconsolable festered lifelong. Best to cope and avoid the sins of her mother before her, a woman with faults, poised as a virtuous liar and a suspected adulterer.
Iaheru remained unfazed at her daughter’s words, but her temper raged in the pit of her belly, threatening to rise up her dry throat and set the home ablaze. Destruction beyond the wreckage she made nights ago wouldn’t resolve her daughter’s pain. And despite the differences, and now regretful similarities, they shared, Iaheru couldn’t bear the thought of her children suffering. Neithotep was suffering.
Truthfully, like most aspects of her daughter looking at her, Iaheru didn’t know what she was suggesting. She didn’t notice the bruises or mark the absences as abnormal. Long ago she abandoned the impressment of noble life on her two troubled children and cleaned her hands of their mischief by remaining blissfully unaware. This too had failed them. She doubted either were happy and neither were safe. It was only three months prior that a man ripped her scarf off in the street, and merely four before they were robbed blindly and the sales foyer in Thebes burned with the demise of Hei Sheifa. All of these collective shortfalls half of the destiny the two shared.
Was it her misplaced judgement at the H’Haikaddad gathering? Iaheru’s mere lapse in applause for a spiteful Pharaoh that put her daughters in the sights of a predator? She’d go back and kiss the Pharaoh’s feet should fate be reversed, the vile man’s leather sandals a preferable destiny to the proudest, most ridiculed woman of Egypt. A whisper on Cairo’s walls her own daughter would inherit.
“I am not a routine liar,” Iaheru’s nostrils flare before she reigns in bitterness. “The one lie that has defined my life...” her voice raises and lowers, reminded of Neithotep’s warnings of listening walls and Iaheru’s recent lack of caution. She takes lead over Neithotep, leading the woman to Iaheru’s study to the immediate right of the stairs. A bone inlay desk stood at the precipice of the room, imposing and regal before two chaises and a low, wooden table. Iaheru closes the door behind her, the matriarch foregoing the prominent chair at the head of the room, if only to meet Neithotep on common ground.
Once in private, Iaheru takes stock of her bruised, tired daughter, wondering if now was the right time to settle grievances. Was it not intoxication, of which fatigue certainly counted, that brought them to this rift? The weight of apology fell on her chest, but was she truly sorry? “I’m sorry for what I couldn’t do for you. Now more than ever and the past included. I am not a routine liar.” Part of her repeated that sentiment for affirmation she would not receive. “And though I am cold I do love you in ways you won’t accept. And I’ve tried. By Gods I’ve tried.” Iaheru tried settling into the couch but couldn’t find herself comfortable. So then she remained rigid as the truth between the low table and her daughter.
Her mind flickers to Greece, how she healed there after violation, her times spent aside Onuphrious by necessity of culture. “I’ve tried everything I can, Neithotep, short of asking you. What can I do for you?” Hei Sheifa had a reputation faltering, but wealth beyond measure. Iaheru could do everything short of pulling the moon from the sky for Neithotep, and even then she wasn’t convinced it would be enough for the battered woman before her, “Do you seek to lie as I have? Perhaps yours will stay secret. Do you seek comfort? Reasons? Because I’ll tell you as much as I know…”
“You won’t find it.” Not through love, not through warm comforts, even cold comforts lacked their assurance, not through inevitable self loathing, not through calculations, not through all the riches in the world, not through the dust of numbing opium, not through soul searching and gods. Maybe in death, certainly in vengeance to Iaheru, but cures for wounds inconsolable festered lifelong. Best to cope and avoid the sins of her mother before her, a woman with faults, poised as a virtuous liar and a suspected adulterer.
Nia’s jaw was painfully tight as she followed her mother into the study, door closing behind them as she ground her teeth. This was not a conversation she wanted to have right now, not while she was hungover from days of constant imbibement and emotional anguish. Though, perhaps now was the best time to have it, when she was raw and unfiltered, more likely to say the things that bore down on her instead of locking them away.
Apologies spilled from Iaheru’s lips, apologies Neithotep had always longed to hear. To hear that she was wrong, that she had failed her in so many ways. Even if it was what she wanted to hear, she could find little satisfaction in it. Even now, even after everything, at her core, she was still just a hurt little girl reaching for the love of a cold and distant parent. She had trained herself to stop reaching, to turn from her instead, but in spite of it all, Iaheru was still her mother. She should have been the one to comfort her, to pick her up when she fell, and instead… here they were.
And though I am cold I do love you in ways you won’t accept. And I’ve tried. By Gods I’ve tried.
Her eyes stung with hot tears, tears she impatiently blinked away. Nia wanted to believe her, she did… her words rang with truth, and yet time and circumstance had taught her that it wasn’t to be trusted. She insisted she was not a routine liar, and perhaps that was true, but the younger Sheifa had spent so long building her defenses against the elder that they were not so easily shattered.
What had gone so wrong? And when? Were the bonds between them so broken and scattered that they could no longer be put back together? How had they gotten to this place, that she could not even bear to hear the words she had always so desperately longed for?
I’ve tried everything I can, Neithotep, short of asking you. What can I do for you?
What could Iaheru do for her? Was there anything to be done? The matriarch of Hei Sheifa was a fierce woman, that could never be denied, but she was only one person. One Sirdsett against the whims of the Pharaoh did her no good, no matter the fire and flame Iaheru carried. Perhaps it was retribution that she sought, retribution for the past wrongs done to her and cycling instead to her daughter. But what retribution could be found? What chance did either of them have against the King of Kings?
Though she opened her mouth to answer, no words came, and it seemed Iaheru was not finished anyway. Rhetorical questions chased each other to culminate in the assertion that ultimately, nothing would be found. Her knees went out from under her, crumbling onto the chaise as her head fell into her hands. Was that it then? Was it all hopeless? The one woman in Egypt who could understand the pain she bore, and all she could tell her… You won’t find it.
“Is that it, then?” she whispered into her fingers, fingers soon dampened with tears she could no longer hold back. “Is this to forever be my fate? Am I to wait until he finds someone new? Until he dies?”
Looking up from her hands, she took a shuddering breath and reached out for her mother, something she hadn’t done since childhood. Grasping at one of her hands, she took it in both of hers and clutched it desperately tight, an agonized gaze lifting to meet Iaheru’s. “I can’t,” she wailed, voice breaking on a sob. “I would sooner throw myself in the Nile than bear this any longer. There has to be something… anything…”
If there was not… perhaps the waters of the Nile would be a more comforting fate, after all.
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Sept 24, 2020 1:30:48 GMT
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Nia’s jaw was painfully tight as she followed her mother into the study, door closing behind them as she ground her teeth. This was not a conversation she wanted to have right now, not while she was hungover from days of constant imbibement and emotional anguish. Though, perhaps now was the best time to have it, when she was raw and unfiltered, more likely to say the things that bore down on her instead of locking them away.
Apologies spilled from Iaheru’s lips, apologies Neithotep had always longed to hear. To hear that she was wrong, that she had failed her in so many ways. Even if it was what she wanted to hear, she could find little satisfaction in it. Even now, even after everything, at her core, she was still just a hurt little girl reaching for the love of a cold and distant parent. She had trained herself to stop reaching, to turn from her instead, but in spite of it all, Iaheru was still her mother. She should have been the one to comfort her, to pick her up when she fell, and instead… here they were.
And though I am cold I do love you in ways you won’t accept. And I’ve tried. By Gods I’ve tried.
Her eyes stung with hot tears, tears she impatiently blinked away. Nia wanted to believe her, she did… her words rang with truth, and yet time and circumstance had taught her that it wasn’t to be trusted. She insisted she was not a routine liar, and perhaps that was true, but the younger Sheifa had spent so long building her defenses against the elder that they were not so easily shattered.
What had gone so wrong? And when? Were the bonds between them so broken and scattered that they could no longer be put back together? How had they gotten to this place, that she could not even bear to hear the words she had always so desperately longed for?
I’ve tried everything I can, Neithotep, short of asking you. What can I do for you?
What could Iaheru do for her? Was there anything to be done? The matriarch of Hei Sheifa was a fierce woman, that could never be denied, but she was only one person. One Sirdsett against the whims of the Pharaoh did her no good, no matter the fire and flame Iaheru carried. Perhaps it was retribution that she sought, retribution for the past wrongs done to her and cycling instead to her daughter. But what retribution could be found? What chance did either of them have against the King of Kings?
Though she opened her mouth to answer, no words came, and it seemed Iaheru was not finished anyway. Rhetorical questions chased each other to culminate in the assertion that ultimately, nothing would be found. Her knees went out from under her, crumbling onto the chaise as her head fell into her hands. Was that it then? Was it all hopeless? The one woman in Egypt who could understand the pain she bore, and all she could tell her… You won’t find it.
“Is that it, then?” she whispered into her fingers, fingers soon dampened with tears she could no longer hold back. “Is this to forever be my fate? Am I to wait until he finds someone new? Until he dies?”
Looking up from her hands, she took a shuddering breath and reached out for her mother, something she hadn’t done since childhood. Grasping at one of her hands, she took it in both of hers and clutched it desperately tight, an agonized gaze lifting to meet Iaheru’s. “I can’t,” she wailed, voice breaking on a sob. “I would sooner throw myself in the Nile than bear this any longer. There has to be something… anything…”
If there was not… perhaps the waters of the Nile would be a more comforting fate, after all.
Nia’s jaw was painfully tight as she followed her mother into the study, door closing behind them as she ground her teeth. This was not a conversation she wanted to have right now, not while she was hungover from days of constant imbibement and emotional anguish. Though, perhaps now was the best time to have it, when she was raw and unfiltered, more likely to say the things that bore down on her instead of locking them away.
Apologies spilled from Iaheru’s lips, apologies Neithotep had always longed to hear. To hear that she was wrong, that she had failed her in so many ways. Even if it was what she wanted to hear, she could find little satisfaction in it. Even now, even after everything, at her core, she was still just a hurt little girl reaching for the love of a cold and distant parent. She had trained herself to stop reaching, to turn from her instead, but in spite of it all, Iaheru was still her mother. She should have been the one to comfort her, to pick her up when she fell, and instead… here they were.
And though I am cold I do love you in ways you won’t accept. And I’ve tried. By Gods I’ve tried.
Her eyes stung with hot tears, tears she impatiently blinked away. Nia wanted to believe her, she did… her words rang with truth, and yet time and circumstance had taught her that it wasn’t to be trusted. She insisted she was not a routine liar, and perhaps that was true, but the younger Sheifa had spent so long building her defenses against the elder that they were not so easily shattered.
What had gone so wrong? And when? Were the bonds between them so broken and scattered that they could no longer be put back together? How had they gotten to this place, that she could not even bear to hear the words she had always so desperately longed for?
I’ve tried everything I can, Neithotep, short of asking you. What can I do for you?
What could Iaheru do for her? Was there anything to be done? The matriarch of Hei Sheifa was a fierce woman, that could never be denied, but she was only one person. One Sirdsett against the whims of the Pharaoh did her no good, no matter the fire and flame Iaheru carried. Perhaps it was retribution that she sought, retribution for the past wrongs done to her and cycling instead to her daughter. But what retribution could be found? What chance did either of them have against the King of Kings?
Though she opened her mouth to answer, no words came, and it seemed Iaheru was not finished anyway. Rhetorical questions chased each other to culminate in the assertion that ultimately, nothing would be found. Her knees went out from under her, crumbling onto the chaise as her head fell into her hands. Was that it then? Was it all hopeless? The one woman in Egypt who could understand the pain she bore, and all she could tell her… You won’t find it.
“Is that it, then?” she whispered into her fingers, fingers soon dampened with tears she could no longer hold back. “Is this to forever be my fate? Am I to wait until he finds someone new? Until he dies?”
Looking up from her hands, she took a shuddering breath and reached out for her mother, something she hadn’t done since childhood. Grasping at one of her hands, she took it in both of hers and clutched it desperately tight, an agonized gaze lifting to meet Iaheru’s. “I can’t,” she wailed, voice breaking on a sob. “I would sooner throw myself in the Nile than bear this any longer. There has to be something… anything…”
If there was not… perhaps the waters of the Nile would be a more comforting fate, after all.
Iaheru’s eyes flickered as she listens to her daughter, a solitary tear curving around the left side of a powdered face, carving a distinct sadness that would soon be dusted over and her day returned to lectures and statistics. What else is there to say? Lingered in her mind like harmattan. What was there to say? What was there to do?
Her own narcissism twitched at her nose, elongated and strong accompanied by a stiff upper lip. Now was not the time to be vulnerable with such an emotional creature. One that was plagued by the beating of the head in the heat, the throes of revelry pounding at the bloodshot eyes that continued to cry… Oh no, thought Iaheru. Perhaps it was too late and it was all the faults of a mother inattentive.
The churning of the Nile, the creatures that lived beneath the murky waters disturbed by the constant arrival and departures of ships and commerce that moved Egypt, her daughter lost to the whims of the waves? That tore at the woman’s heart in a familiar place. When she wasn’t so hardened, when she wasn’t so stubborn and hellbent on projecting pristine perfection to all of Egypt, she too had climbed to the top of a home, a testament to a woman’s agency, and thought of throwing herself off of the roof. The hand laid atop of hers attaches Iaheru to the moment, the fog of the past lifting as the woman conjured up a distant empathy. Distant, not for the woman before her, but to protect to woman internally.
Another tear falls to match the opposite cheek. “I…” She choked on her words unformed. “I think so, I wish I had something to say.” I am not as smart as I am fabled to be, nor am I a mother of substance.
“I… I don’t share your pain in the exact same way or duration. I would send you to Thebes, only for you to be escorted back and forth to Cairo…”
“I was ever-most sincere about your education,” she purses her lips, referencing the night the mother and daughter spoke of men and choices, Neithotep under the now revealed protection of a shawl. “I found peace in Athenia. I could bear the brushes at parties against the lows of my back on my return, the private meetings that continued past the…” She stops before the utterance comes across her lips. “The constant pressures of lies evaporates across a sea...
“Perhaps you can find that as well.”
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Iaheru’s eyes flickered as she listens to her daughter, a solitary tear curving around the left side of a powdered face, carving a distinct sadness that would soon be dusted over and her day returned to lectures and statistics. What else is there to say? Lingered in her mind like harmattan. What was there to say? What was there to do?
Her own narcissism twitched at her nose, elongated and strong accompanied by a stiff upper lip. Now was not the time to be vulnerable with such an emotional creature. One that was plagued by the beating of the head in the heat, the throes of revelry pounding at the bloodshot eyes that continued to cry… Oh no, thought Iaheru. Perhaps it was too late and it was all the faults of a mother inattentive.
The churning of the Nile, the creatures that lived beneath the murky waters disturbed by the constant arrival and departures of ships and commerce that moved Egypt, her daughter lost to the whims of the waves? That tore at the woman’s heart in a familiar place. When she wasn’t so hardened, when she wasn’t so stubborn and hellbent on projecting pristine perfection to all of Egypt, she too had climbed to the top of a home, a testament to a woman’s agency, and thought of throwing herself off of the roof. The hand laid atop of hers attaches Iaheru to the moment, the fog of the past lifting as the woman conjured up a distant empathy. Distant, not for the woman before her, but to protect to woman internally.
Another tear falls to match the opposite cheek. “I…” She choked on her words unformed. “I think so, I wish I had something to say.” I am not as smart as I am fabled to be, nor am I a mother of substance.
“I… I don’t share your pain in the exact same way or duration. I would send you to Thebes, only for you to be escorted back and forth to Cairo…”
“I was ever-most sincere about your education,” she purses her lips, referencing the night the mother and daughter spoke of men and choices, Neithotep under the now revealed protection of a shawl. “I found peace in Athenia. I could bear the brushes at parties against the lows of my back on my return, the private meetings that continued past the…” She stops before the utterance comes across her lips. “The constant pressures of lies evaporates across a sea...
“Perhaps you can find that as well.”
Iaheru’s eyes flickered as she listens to her daughter, a solitary tear curving around the left side of a powdered face, carving a distinct sadness that would soon be dusted over and her day returned to lectures and statistics. What else is there to say? Lingered in her mind like harmattan. What was there to say? What was there to do?
Her own narcissism twitched at her nose, elongated and strong accompanied by a stiff upper lip. Now was not the time to be vulnerable with such an emotional creature. One that was plagued by the beating of the head in the heat, the throes of revelry pounding at the bloodshot eyes that continued to cry… Oh no, thought Iaheru. Perhaps it was too late and it was all the faults of a mother inattentive.
The churning of the Nile, the creatures that lived beneath the murky waters disturbed by the constant arrival and departures of ships and commerce that moved Egypt, her daughter lost to the whims of the waves? That tore at the woman’s heart in a familiar place. When she wasn’t so hardened, when she wasn’t so stubborn and hellbent on projecting pristine perfection to all of Egypt, she too had climbed to the top of a home, a testament to a woman’s agency, and thought of throwing herself off of the roof. The hand laid atop of hers attaches Iaheru to the moment, the fog of the past lifting as the woman conjured up a distant empathy. Distant, not for the woman before her, but to protect to woman internally.
Another tear falls to match the opposite cheek. “I…” She choked on her words unformed. “I think so, I wish I had something to say.” I am not as smart as I am fabled to be, nor am I a mother of substance.
“I… I don’t share your pain in the exact same way or duration. I would send you to Thebes, only for you to be escorted back and forth to Cairo…”
“I was ever-most sincere about your education,” she purses her lips, referencing the night the mother and daughter spoke of men and choices, Neithotep under the now revealed protection of a shawl. “I found peace in Athenia. I could bear the brushes at parties against the lows of my back on my return, the private meetings that continued past the…” She stops before the utterance comes across her lips. “The constant pressures of lies evaporates across a sea...
“Perhaps you can find that as well.”
Two twin trails of tears marred the otherwise perfection of Iaheru H’Sheifa’s face, and for a moment, her daughter was stunned into silence. Nia could not recall ever seeing her mother cry, not once in her life, though surely the Sirdsett was human and not as infallible as she seemed. Knowing it happened and seeing it were two different things, however, the younger woman’s lower lip trembling in her realization that perhaps her mother was not truly the cold creature she had always projected.
The brief suggestion of sending her away to Thebes was quickly discarded before Nia could even protest; Iaheru spoke just what she knew—the distance would not stop Iahotep, he would summon her regardless. She feared nowhere in Egypt was safe, particularly not on the brink of war. What if Iaheru sent her off to some distance province to live with unnamed relatives, and the battles moved that way? What if the Pharaoh knew where she was and simply took her in the night?
No. No, there was no reprieve to be found there.
The Sirdsett went on to speak of her time in Athenia, the peace she found there amidst her own similar turmoil. Having dropped her gaze again, it lifted once more to meet Iaheru’s, drinking in the slow pause that came before, Perhaps you can find that, as well.
There was a simple sort of elegance to it, the thought of leaving Egypt’s shores behind for the start of something entirely new. But as adventurous as the young noblewoman’s heart tended to be, there was fear there too. How could she fare in a land she did not know, with a language she did not speak? Linguistics lessons had been wasted on her in her youth, retaining only the barest recollection of the simplest of phrases. And the thought of entering a country, one so hostile to her own… what if they just shipped her back? Would her presence even be tolerated? How could they even make this work?
Even with all of those questions, however, even with all of those doubts… it couldn’t be any worse than the alternative.
“Is that… is that even possible?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, a painful hope blossoming within the depths of her dark, watery gaze. “Iahotep, I… I think he watches me,” she admitted, nervous eyes sliding toward the closed door, as if the wood itself might be listening. Who knew what ear might be pressed to the other side? “If I were to set foot on a departing ship, I fear he would know it immediately.”
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Oct 11, 2020 19:17:49 GMT
Posted In Seeing Double on Oct 11, 2020 19:17:49 GMT
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Two twin trails of tears marred the otherwise perfection of Iaheru H’Sheifa’s face, and for a moment, her daughter was stunned into silence. Nia could not recall ever seeing her mother cry, not once in her life, though surely the Sirdsett was human and not as infallible as she seemed. Knowing it happened and seeing it were two different things, however, the younger woman’s lower lip trembling in her realization that perhaps her mother was not truly the cold creature she had always projected.
The brief suggestion of sending her away to Thebes was quickly discarded before Nia could even protest; Iaheru spoke just what she knew—the distance would not stop Iahotep, he would summon her regardless. She feared nowhere in Egypt was safe, particularly not on the brink of war. What if Iaheru sent her off to some distance province to live with unnamed relatives, and the battles moved that way? What if the Pharaoh knew where she was and simply took her in the night?
No. No, there was no reprieve to be found there.
The Sirdsett went on to speak of her time in Athenia, the peace she found there amidst her own similar turmoil. Having dropped her gaze again, it lifted once more to meet Iaheru’s, drinking in the slow pause that came before, Perhaps you can find that, as well.
There was a simple sort of elegance to it, the thought of leaving Egypt’s shores behind for the start of something entirely new. But as adventurous as the young noblewoman’s heart tended to be, there was fear there too. How could she fare in a land she did not know, with a language she did not speak? Linguistics lessons had been wasted on her in her youth, retaining only the barest recollection of the simplest of phrases. And the thought of entering a country, one so hostile to her own… what if they just shipped her back? Would her presence even be tolerated? How could they even make this work?
Even with all of those questions, however, even with all of those doubts… it couldn’t be any worse than the alternative.
“Is that… is that even possible?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, a painful hope blossoming within the depths of her dark, watery gaze. “Iahotep, I… I think he watches me,” she admitted, nervous eyes sliding toward the closed door, as if the wood itself might be listening. Who knew what ear might be pressed to the other side? “If I were to set foot on a departing ship, I fear he would know it immediately.”
Two twin trails of tears marred the otherwise perfection of Iaheru H’Sheifa’s face, and for a moment, her daughter was stunned into silence. Nia could not recall ever seeing her mother cry, not once in her life, though surely the Sirdsett was human and not as infallible as she seemed. Knowing it happened and seeing it were two different things, however, the younger woman’s lower lip trembling in her realization that perhaps her mother was not truly the cold creature she had always projected.
The brief suggestion of sending her away to Thebes was quickly discarded before Nia could even protest; Iaheru spoke just what she knew—the distance would not stop Iahotep, he would summon her regardless. She feared nowhere in Egypt was safe, particularly not on the brink of war. What if Iaheru sent her off to some distance province to live with unnamed relatives, and the battles moved that way? What if the Pharaoh knew where she was and simply took her in the night?
No. No, there was no reprieve to be found there.
The Sirdsett went on to speak of her time in Athenia, the peace she found there amidst her own similar turmoil. Having dropped her gaze again, it lifted once more to meet Iaheru’s, drinking in the slow pause that came before, Perhaps you can find that, as well.
There was a simple sort of elegance to it, the thought of leaving Egypt’s shores behind for the start of something entirely new. But as adventurous as the young noblewoman’s heart tended to be, there was fear there too. How could she fare in a land she did not know, with a language she did not speak? Linguistics lessons had been wasted on her in her youth, retaining only the barest recollection of the simplest of phrases. And the thought of entering a country, one so hostile to her own… what if they just shipped her back? Would her presence even be tolerated? How could they even make this work?
Even with all of those questions, however, even with all of those doubts… it couldn’t be any worse than the alternative.
“Is that… is that even possible?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, a painful hope blossoming within the depths of her dark, watery gaze. “Iahotep, I… I think he watches me,” she admitted, nervous eyes sliding toward the closed door, as if the wood itself might be listening. Who knew what ear might be pressed to the other side? “If I were to set foot on a departing ship, I fear he would know it immediately.”
Iaheru inhaled, the distant smell of rosewater wafting from the perfumed fountain downstairs. How many parties were held in the foyer evaded her, but the constant entanglement of Hei Fakhouri, Naddar, and Sheifa was a story for the ages, a testament to wealth and knowledge unmatched. Supremacy, if a non-royal household could ever ascend.
The parties were demarcated by a distinct anxiety each time they were hosted. Even more so, when she was summoned to the Evening Star Palace for late night calculations to think that the friendly intimacy the Pharaoh and herself always shared would dissolve into the carnal desire that took away her dignity on two occasions. How Onuphrious treasured his wife- the ear to the Pharaoh! Modest and devoted, beyond the servitude expected of arranged matrimony, but true affection and mutual respect. Now ruined, of course, but such was the consequences of lies unrevealed.
Her tears dry quickly on foreign cheeks. It had been a long time since she had wept and she didn’t intend to break the streak. Her mind diverted to the olive groves she replicated in her home. The wines and the stricter culture she adapted to and suited her persona that was juxtaposed against Egyptian revelry. She recalled Zoser, the young scholar as the only liberal minded Egyptian, reprieve in her welcoming solitude.
Neithotep was with her, as in infant in Athenia. Despite this, Neithotep was the most Egyptian woman Iaheru could conceptualize. How would she adjust to a rigid culture? Was she to send her daughter to slaughter nonetheless? At the hands of a lesser government?
And what of the spies Iahotep employed? Iaheru bit her lip, pulling it between two teeth. There were so many moving parts she had to freeze in the honey of time that lulled between desperate silences. “Anything is possible,” Iaheru speaks as a statistician above all else. “Anything is possible with our wealth and influence, albeit waning.”
“I have favors.” She retracted her hand from Neithotep’s, reclined to think about her options ever flowing through her sharp mind. “Of course he watches you, but I watch him.”
“I know violent men, they fancy themselves strategists, but they are merely reactive. We are truly blessed to be women, even in the hardships we face. We take to the mind, the tongue, while men take to the spear.”
“If anyone can, I can. I will.”
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Iaheru inhaled, the distant smell of rosewater wafting from the perfumed fountain downstairs. How many parties were held in the foyer evaded her, but the constant entanglement of Hei Fakhouri, Naddar, and Sheifa was a story for the ages, a testament to wealth and knowledge unmatched. Supremacy, if a non-royal household could ever ascend.
The parties were demarcated by a distinct anxiety each time they were hosted. Even more so, when she was summoned to the Evening Star Palace for late night calculations to think that the friendly intimacy the Pharaoh and herself always shared would dissolve into the carnal desire that took away her dignity on two occasions. How Onuphrious treasured his wife- the ear to the Pharaoh! Modest and devoted, beyond the servitude expected of arranged matrimony, but true affection and mutual respect. Now ruined, of course, but such was the consequences of lies unrevealed.
Her tears dry quickly on foreign cheeks. It had been a long time since she had wept and she didn’t intend to break the streak. Her mind diverted to the olive groves she replicated in her home. The wines and the stricter culture she adapted to and suited her persona that was juxtaposed against Egyptian revelry. She recalled Zoser, the young scholar as the only liberal minded Egyptian, reprieve in her welcoming solitude.
Neithotep was with her, as in infant in Athenia. Despite this, Neithotep was the most Egyptian woman Iaheru could conceptualize. How would she adjust to a rigid culture? Was she to send her daughter to slaughter nonetheless? At the hands of a lesser government?
And what of the spies Iahotep employed? Iaheru bit her lip, pulling it between two teeth. There were so many moving parts she had to freeze in the honey of time that lulled between desperate silences. “Anything is possible,” Iaheru speaks as a statistician above all else. “Anything is possible with our wealth and influence, albeit waning.”
“I have favors.” She retracted her hand from Neithotep’s, reclined to think about her options ever flowing through her sharp mind. “Of course he watches you, but I watch him.”
“I know violent men, they fancy themselves strategists, but they are merely reactive. We are truly blessed to be women, even in the hardships we face. We take to the mind, the tongue, while men take to the spear.”
“If anyone can, I can. I will.”
Iaheru inhaled, the distant smell of rosewater wafting from the perfumed fountain downstairs. How many parties were held in the foyer evaded her, but the constant entanglement of Hei Fakhouri, Naddar, and Sheifa was a story for the ages, a testament to wealth and knowledge unmatched. Supremacy, if a non-royal household could ever ascend.
The parties were demarcated by a distinct anxiety each time they were hosted. Even more so, when she was summoned to the Evening Star Palace for late night calculations to think that the friendly intimacy the Pharaoh and herself always shared would dissolve into the carnal desire that took away her dignity on two occasions. How Onuphrious treasured his wife- the ear to the Pharaoh! Modest and devoted, beyond the servitude expected of arranged matrimony, but true affection and mutual respect. Now ruined, of course, but such was the consequences of lies unrevealed.
Her tears dry quickly on foreign cheeks. It had been a long time since she had wept and she didn’t intend to break the streak. Her mind diverted to the olive groves she replicated in her home. The wines and the stricter culture she adapted to and suited her persona that was juxtaposed against Egyptian revelry. She recalled Zoser, the young scholar as the only liberal minded Egyptian, reprieve in her welcoming solitude.
Neithotep was with her, as in infant in Athenia. Despite this, Neithotep was the most Egyptian woman Iaheru could conceptualize. How would she adjust to a rigid culture? Was she to send her daughter to slaughter nonetheless? At the hands of a lesser government?
And what of the spies Iahotep employed? Iaheru bit her lip, pulling it between two teeth. There were so many moving parts she had to freeze in the honey of time that lulled between desperate silences. “Anything is possible,” Iaheru speaks as a statistician above all else. “Anything is possible with our wealth and influence, albeit waning.”
“I have favors.” She retracted her hand from Neithotep’s, reclined to think about her options ever flowing through her sharp mind. “Of course he watches you, but I watch him.”
“I know violent men, they fancy themselves strategists, but they are merely reactive. We are truly blessed to be women, even in the hardships we face. We take to the mind, the tongue, while men take to the spear.”
“If anyone can, I can. I will.”
Though they were words she had not spoken aloud since childhood, Neithotep loved her mother. If questioned, she would deny it fiercely, but in that moment, as the Sirdsett withdrew her hand and retreated back into herself, Nia was not sure if she had ever loved her more. The cool logic Iaheru had always exuded returned to take the place of drying tears, crisply spoken words falling from her lips with the reassurance that anything was possible with the influence their family had. And gods, but she loved her for it.
Nia bit her lip as she gazed longingly at her mother. Did she dare to hope? Was Iaheru’s own power truly so vast? She was a Sirdsett, yes, but she was still just a woman—a woman whose husband barely even acknowledged her any more. She spoke of the strength and blessings of women, but how much truth was really in those words? Without the support of Onuphrious, would anything even be possible? She didn’t dare to tell her father about any of this, not after his volcanic reaction to her mother’s very similar indiscretion. Would he curse the women of his house? Cast them from his door? Or would he show compassion to his daughter’s plight? Would he even believe it was a plight at all?
No. She would not involve the Sirdar. For now, he must remain in ignorance. He ought to be used to it by now.
There were so alike, she and Iaheru, even if she would rather burn alive than admit it. At that moment, however, she wished there were more similarities between her and the woman across from her. The iron strength she bore, her unwavering composure… these were things Nia had never possessed, and she never imagined she could. Tenderhearted and soft, she had always been, counting them as virtues, but now? She would give anything for that cold aloofness that seemed so easy for her mother. Anything to shield herself from the cruel and manipulative grasp of the Pharaoh. Anything to take back sovereignty of her own body. Her own soul.
Anything was possible, Iaheru said. Anything was possible. “How?” Nia finally whispered, her gaze unblinking as it hungrily drank her in. “Mother, how?” she repeated, a little louder this time as she sat up straighter. “You have learned my secrets, please, I must know yours. How can two women, wealthy and affluent as we are, hope to defy the King of Kings?”
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Though they were words she had not spoken aloud since childhood, Neithotep loved her mother. If questioned, she would deny it fiercely, but in that moment, as the Sirdsett withdrew her hand and retreated back into herself, Nia was not sure if she had ever loved her more. The cool logic Iaheru had always exuded returned to take the place of drying tears, crisply spoken words falling from her lips with the reassurance that anything was possible with the influence their family had. And gods, but she loved her for it.
Nia bit her lip as she gazed longingly at her mother. Did she dare to hope? Was Iaheru’s own power truly so vast? She was a Sirdsett, yes, but she was still just a woman—a woman whose husband barely even acknowledged her any more. She spoke of the strength and blessings of women, but how much truth was really in those words? Without the support of Onuphrious, would anything even be possible? She didn’t dare to tell her father about any of this, not after his volcanic reaction to her mother’s very similar indiscretion. Would he curse the women of his house? Cast them from his door? Or would he show compassion to his daughter’s plight? Would he even believe it was a plight at all?
No. She would not involve the Sirdar. For now, he must remain in ignorance. He ought to be used to it by now.
There were so alike, she and Iaheru, even if she would rather burn alive than admit it. At that moment, however, she wished there were more similarities between her and the woman across from her. The iron strength she bore, her unwavering composure… these were things Nia had never possessed, and she never imagined she could. Tenderhearted and soft, she had always been, counting them as virtues, but now? She would give anything for that cold aloofness that seemed so easy for her mother. Anything to shield herself from the cruel and manipulative grasp of the Pharaoh. Anything to take back sovereignty of her own body. Her own soul.
Anything was possible, Iaheru said. Anything was possible. “How?” Nia finally whispered, her gaze unblinking as it hungrily drank her in. “Mother, how?” she repeated, a little louder this time as she sat up straighter. “You have learned my secrets, please, I must know yours. How can two women, wealthy and affluent as we are, hope to defy the King of Kings?”
Though they were words she had not spoken aloud since childhood, Neithotep loved her mother. If questioned, she would deny it fiercely, but in that moment, as the Sirdsett withdrew her hand and retreated back into herself, Nia was not sure if she had ever loved her more. The cool logic Iaheru had always exuded returned to take the place of drying tears, crisply spoken words falling from her lips with the reassurance that anything was possible with the influence their family had. And gods, but she loved her for it.
Nia bit her lip as she gazed longingly at her mother. Did she dare to hope? Was Iaheru’s own power truly so vast? She was a Sirdsett, yes, but she was still just a woman—a woman whose husband barely even acknowledged her any more. She spoke of the strength and blessings of women, but how much truth was really in those words? Without the support of Onuphrious, would anything even be possible? She didn’t dare to tell her father about any of this, not after his volcanic reaction to her mother’s very similar indiscretion. Would he curse the women of his house? Cast them from his door? Or would he show compassion to his daughter’s plight? Would he even believe it was a plight at all?
No. She would not involve the Sirdar. For now, he must remain in ignorance. He ought to be used to it by now.
There were so alike, she and Iaheru, even if she would rather burn alive than admit it. At that moment, however, she wished there were more similarities between her and the woman across from her. The iron strength she bore, her unwavering composure… these were things Nia had never possessed, and she never imagined she could. Tenderhearted and soft, she had always been, counting them as virtues, but now? She would give anything for that cold aloofness that seemed so easy for her mother. Anything to shield herself from the cruel and manipulative grasp of the Pharaoh. Anything to take back sovereignty of her own body. Her own soul.
Anything was possible, Iaheru said. Anything was possible. “How?” Nia finally whispered, her gaze unblinking as it hungrily drank her in. “Mother, how?” she repeated, a little louder this time as she sat up straighter. “You have learned my secrets, please, I must know yours. How can two women, wealthy and affluent as we are, hope to defy the King of Kings?”
Iaheru was steadfast in her assertions, even if she did not believe them herself. For the sake of her child, a gentle one accustomed to a soft life, she had to project confidence and steeliness. In truth, her husband terrified her. The Pharaoh terrified her. Even the Queen Mother still sent the tip of the razor tickling her spine. If not for her children, Iaheru H’Sheifa would be a coward, more so than she already was.
She took in her daughter for the first time in a long time. Taking in her fear and meshing it with her own. Neithotep had not taken to the lifelong struggle of rage she would inevitably stumble into along her journey of healing. And healing she would, if Iaheru had to lay herself at the altar for Neithotep, she would. To think, earlier in the month she had intended to marry off the woman to another family, all for the sake of saving face and bonding with another House. Had she known, she’d have cloaked her daughter in all protection imaginable, saving her from the wrath of a man who could own all he desired.
Her mind flickered to Onuphrious. Had he been angry at the act or the lie? Infidelity was not foreign to Egyptians, some even encouraged it. Lying, however, was a cardinal sin and evidence of weakness. And that is what Iaheru was vilified for. Silence fell between Onuphrious and herself, damaging a house once fortified by love and order devolved into harmful revelry and disgrace. No, Onuphrious could not know of transgressions revealed on the rooftop. In the same way she threatened the life of those she despised, her husband toed the line between enemy and dear friend each day that passed without his gaze finding hers. The visage of independence in Cairo could only last so long. A reckoning on the doorstep of her home or in Thebes was eminent and, undoubtedly, explosive.
She would not see another child turned away.
“I have nothing left to lose,” Iaheru straightened her back. “I have children, yes, but personally? Socially?” Staring blankly ahead, “I have risen to everything and nothing at all. My daughter bears the same fate I have and I have failed.”
“I would do well to end the suffering of women unnamed. I will claim the Pharaoh one way or another,” Iaheru grits her teeth. “Once my children are safe. Once you are safe…”
“It is worthy of my life.”
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Iaheru was steadfast in her assertions, even if she did not believe them herself. For the sake of her child, a gentle one accustomed to a soft life, she had to project confidence and steeliness. In truth, her husband terrified her. The Pharaoh terrified her. Even the Queen Mother still sent the tip of the razor tickling her spine. If not for her children, Iaheru H’Sheifa would be a coward, more so than she already was.
She took in her daughter for the first time in a long time. Taking in her fear and meshing it with her own. Neithotep had not taken to the lifelong struggle of rage she would inevitably stumble into along her journey of healing. And healing she would, if Iaheru had to lay herself at the altar for Neithotep, she would. To think, earlier in the month she had intended to marry off the woman to another family, all for the sake of saving face and bonding with another House. Had she known, she’d have cloaked her daughter in all protection imaginable, saving her from the wrath of a man who could own all he desired.
Her mind flickered to Onuphrious. Had he been angry at the act or the lie? Infidelity was not foreign to Egyptians, some even encouraged it. Lying, however, was a cardinal sin and evidence of weakness. And that is what Iaheru was vilified for. Silence fell between Onuphrious and herself, damaging a house once fortified by love and order devolved into harmful revelry and disgrace. No, Onuphrious could not know of transgressions revealed on the rooftop. In the same way she threatened the life of those she despised, her husband toed the line between enemy and dear friend each day that passed without his gaze finding hers. The visage of independence in Cairo could only last so long. A reckoning on the doorstep of her home or in Thebes was eminent and, undoubtedly, explosive.
She would not see another child turned away.
“I have nothing left to lose,” Iaheru straightened her back. “I have children, yes, but personally? Socially?” Staring blankly ahead, “I have risen to everything and nothing at all. My daughter bears the same fate I have and I have failed.”
“I would do well to end the suffering of women unnamed. I will claim the Pharaoh one way or another,” Iaheru grits her teeth. “Once my children are safe. Once you are safe…”
“It is worthy of my life.”
Iaheru was steadfast in her assertions, even if she did not believe them herself. For the sake of her child, a gentle one accustomed to a soft life, she had to project confidence and steeliness. In truth, her husband terrified her. The Pharaoh terrified her. Even the Queen Mother still sent the tip of the razor tickling her spine. If not for her children, Iaheru H’Sheifa would be a coward, more so than she already was.
She took in her daughter for the first time in a long time. Taking in her fear and meshing it with her own. Neithotep had not taken to the lifelong struggle of rage she would inevitably stumble into along her journey of healing. And healing she would, if Iaheru had to lay herself at the altar for Neithotep, she would. To think, earlier in the month she had intended to marry off the woman to another family, all for the sake of saving face and bonding with another House. Had she known, she’d have cloaked her daughter in all protection imaginable, saving her from the wrath of a man who could own all he desired.
Her mind flickered to Onuphrious. Had he been angry at the act or the lie? Infidelity was not foreign to Egyptians, some even encouraged it. Lying, however, was a cardinal sin and evidence of weakness. And that is what Iaheru was vilified for. Silence fell between Onuphrious and herself, damaging a house once fortified by love and order devolved into harmful revelry and disgrace. No, Onuphrious could not know of transgressions revealed on the rooftop. In the same way she threatened the life of those she despised, her husband toed the line between enemy and dear friend each day that passed without his gaze finding hers. The visage of independence in Cairo could only last so long. A reckoning on the doorstep of her home or in Thebes was eminent and, undoubtedly, explosive.
She would not see another child turned away.
“I have nothing left to lose,” Iaheru straightened her back. “I have children, yes, but personally? Socially?” Staring blankly ahead, “I have risen to everything and nothing at all. My daughter bears the same fate I have and I have failed.”
“I would do well to end the suffering of women unnamed. I will claim the Pharaoh one way or another,” Iaheru grits her teeth. “Once my children are safe. Once you are safe…”
“It is worthy of my life.”
The years had seen Neithotep grow more and more distant from her coldly aloof mother, taking her indifference as a lack of love for the child she had seemingly abandoned. But perhaps that hadn’t been it at all—perhaps it had been the fault of the daughter that led to the disconnection of the mother, turning away whatever attempt Iaheru made to reach out an amicable hand. There were so many things left unspoken between them, so many injuries buried and stashed away never to see the light of Ra again.
But to hear the Sirdsett speak now, to see the steely resolve that hardened an already stony gaze, Nia knew she had been wrong. Even if she wasn’t the warmest woman, even if she didn’t always seem to understand her wilder children, how could the wayward daughter have ever doubted that she loved them?
The circumstance that bonded them now was a dire one, a helpless situation that, Iaheru was right, no woman should ever know. In that moment, however, Nia was almost grateful for it, that such tragedy could help her to see Iaheru in a new light, one that would ensure she did not forever continue to shun the woman willing to lay down her life so that she might know safety once more.
Before she could think about it further and stop herself, the daughter again took the mother’s hands in her own, squeezing them almost painfully tight. Iaheru spoke of her rise and fall, of everything and nothing she could lose. Was Nia’s life worth what Iaheru suggested? Could she really let her mother take such a burden on herself? She did know one thing—she could not let her bear it alone.
Tugging her hands, Nia rose to her feet and—shockingly—pulled Iaheru into her embrace, arms tucked around the Sirdsett’s waist as if she was only a child again. Burying her face in the woman’s shoulder, she let loose a silent sob, tears staining the expensive fabric that cushioned her head. Her grip was desperately tight, seeking a rare comfort in the Sheifa matriarch, one so rare she could not even remember the last time she had done it.
“I’m sorry,” she wailed into her mother’s shoulder, her words muffled by the gown she wore. “I should have been more careful, I should have stayed out of his sight, I…”
None of it was her fault, none of it, and yet, Nia couldn’t help the guilt that overwhelmed her. Iaheru had already lived through this once in her own life, and now she had to watch her daughter replay the same story she had originally woven. Was it some curse laid on the Sheifa family, that their autonomy should be continuously stolen by one so powerful? What of Nefertaari and Nenet? Were they somehow doomed to a similar fate? Was it the hands of the gods at work, and if it was, why?
“You should not have to suffer further for my sins,” she lamented, her grip never faltering. “I wish I had never even seen his face.”
Finally, she lifted her own tear-streaked face from Iaheru’s shoulder to look into her mother’s eyes. “If you claim him… I…” She shook her head and swallowed hard. “I want to help. I want to be part of his downfall. I want to help you make sure no other woman has to know the same pain we have.”
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The years had seen Neithotep grow more and more distant from her coldly aloof mother, taking her indifference as a lack of love for the child she had seemingly abandoned. But perhaps that hadn’t been it at all—perhaps it had been the fault of the daughter that led to the disconnection of the mother, turning away whatever attempt Iaheru made to reach out an amicable hand. There were so many things left unspoken between them, so many injuries buried and stashed away never to see the light of Ra again.
But to hear the Sirdsett speak now, to see the steely resolve that hardened an already stony gaze, Nia knew she had been wrong. Even if she wasn’t the warmest woman, even if she didn’t always seem to understand her wilder children, how could the wayward daughter have ever doubted that she loved them?
The circumstance that bonded them now was a dire one, a helpless situation that, Iaheru was right, no woman should ever know. In that moment, however, Nia was almost grateful for it, that such tragedy could help her to see Iaheru in a new light, one that would ensure she did not forever continue to shun the woman willing to lay down her life so that she might know safety once more.
Before she could think about it further and stop herself, the daughter again took the mother’s hands in her own, squeezing them almost painfully tight. Iaheru spoke of her rise and fall, of everything and nothing she could lose. Was Nia’s life worth what Iaheru suggested? Could she really let her mother take such a burden on herself? She did know one thing—she could not let her bear it alone.
Tugging her hands, Nia rose to her feet and—shockingly—pulled Iaheru into her embrace, arms tucked around the Sirdsett’s waist as if she was only a child again. Burying her face in the woman’s shoulder, she let loose a silent sob, tears staining the expensive fabric that cushioned her head. Her grip was desperately tight, seeking a rare comfort in the Sheifa matriarch, one so rare she could not even remember the last time she had done it.
“I’m sorry,” she wailed into her mother’s shoulder, her words muffled by the gown she wore. “I should have been more careful, I should have stayed out of his sight, I…”
None of it was her fault, none of it, and yet, Nia couldn’t help the guilt that overwhelmed her. Iaheru had already lived through this once in her own life, and now she had to watch her daughter replay the same story she had originally woven. Was it some curse laid on the Sheifa family, that their autonomy should be continuously stolen by one so powerful? What of Nefertaari and Nenet? Were they somehow doomed to a similar fate? Was it the hands of the gods at work, and if it was, why?
“You should not have to suffer further for my sins,” she lamented, her grip never faltering. “I wish I had never even seen his face.”
Finally, she lifted her own tear-streaked face from Iaheru’s shoulder to look into her mother’s eyes. “If you claim him… I…” She shook her head and swallowed hard. “I want to help. I want to be part of his downfall. I want to help you make sure no other woman has to know the same pain we have.”
The years had seen Neithotep grow more and more distant from her coldly aloof mother, taking her indifference as a lack of love for the child she had seemingly abandoned. But perhaps that hadn’t been it at all—perhaps it had been the fault of the daughter that led to the disconnection of the mother, turning away whatever attempt Iaheru made to reach out an amicable hand. There were so many things left unspoken between them, so many injuries buried and stashed away never to see the light of Ra again.
But to hear the Sirdsett speak now, to see the steely resolve that hardened an already stony gaze, Nia knew she had been wrong. Even if she wasn’t the warmest woman, even if she didn’t always seem to understand her wilder children, how could the wayward daughter have ever doubted that she loved them?
The circumstance that bonded them now was a dire one, a helpless situation that, Iaheru was right, no woman should ever know. In that moment, however, Nia was almost grateful for it, that such tragedy could help her to see Iaheru in a new light, one that would ensure she did not forever continue to shun the woman willing to lay down her life so that she might know safety once more.
Before she could think about it further and stop herself, the daughter again took the mother’s hands in her own, squeezing them almost painfully tight. Iaheru spoke of her rise and fall, of everything and nothing she could lose. Was Nia’s life worth what Iaheru suggested? Could she really let her mother take such a burden on herself? She did know one thing—she could not let her bear it alone.
Tugging her hands, Nia rose to her feet and—shockingly—pulled Iaheru into her embrace, arms tucked around the Sirdsett’s waist as if she was only a child again. Burying her face in the woman’s shoulder, she let loose a silent sob, tears staining the expensive fabric that cushioned her head. Her grip was desperately tight, seeking a rare comfort in the Sheifa matriarch, one so rare she could not even remember the last time she had done it.
“I’m sorry,” she wailed into her mother’s shoulder, her words muffled by the gown she wore. “I should have been more careful, I should have stayed out of his sight, I…”
None of it was her fault, none of it, and yet, Nia couldn’t help the guilt that overwhelmed her. Iaheru had already lived through this once in her own life, and now she had to watch her daughter replay the same story she had originally woven. Was it some curse laid on the Sheifa family, that their autonomy should be continuously stolen by one so powerful? What of Nefertaari and Nenet? Were they somehow doomed to a similar fate? Was it the hands of the gods at work, and if it was, why?
“You should not have to suffer further for my sins,” she lamented, her grip never faltering. “I wish I had never even seen his face.”
Finally, she lifted her own tear-streaked face from Iaheru’s shoulder to look into her mother’s eyes. “If you claim him… I…” She shook her head and swallowed hard. “I want to help. I want to be part of his downfall. I want to help you make sure no other woman has to know the same pain we have.”
When Neithotep moved to bring the woman into an embrace, Iaheru immediately wrapped herself around her daughter, smoothing her hair and simply existing in that painful moment. How had this happened? There were a million questions racing through Iaheru’s subconscious, but her immediate thoughts were blank. Nothing crossed her mind except for how she could possibly be there for her daughter in ways that no one was there for her.
When her daughter offers her assistance, Iaheru shook her head, pleading with the young woman not to silently as she cries alongside her in solidarity. “There was nothing you could do, love, my Nia,” she once again smooths out hair full of tangles from the night before. Perhaps a day of maintenance would serve her daughter well, though Iaheru sat in her salon for solace, she wondered if the space was too quiet to be alone with one’s thoughts. Especially so if Iahotep inevitably plagued her in her spare time. Iaheru knew that even in his death, Imophetasuma descended upon her at the most quiet of moments, instilling a fear that she long fought against. “There was nothing you did or could do, alright?”
“My suffering would be for nothing if I didn’t try to prevent yours,” Iaheru holds her tighter, wondering if such a simple action could inspire more courage within her gut. This attempt fell flat. “It is my prerogative to give you the world.”
"I will let you know," Iaheru blinked away tears, "I still have to scheme... You let me worry about that sweet girl."
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When Neithotep moved to bring the woman into an embrace, Iaheru immediately wrapped herself around her daughter, smoothing her hair and simply existing in that painful moment. How had this happened? There were a million questions racing through Iaheru’s subconscious, but her immediate thoughts were blank. Nothing crossed her mind except for how she could possibly be there for her daughter in ways that no one was there for her.
When her daughter offers her assistance, Iaheru shook her head, pleading with the young woman not to silently as she cries alongside her in solidarity. “There was nothing you could do, love, my Nia,” she once again smooths out hair full of tangles from the night before. Perhaps a day of maintenance would serve her daughter well, though Iaheru sat in her salon for solace, she wondered if the space was too quiet to be alone with one’s thoughts. Especially so if Iahotep inevitably plagued her in her spare time. Iaheru knew that even in his death, Imophetasuma descended upon her at the most quiet of moments, instilling a fear that she long fought against. “There was nothing you did or could do, alright?”
“My suffering would be for nothing if I didn’t try to prevent yours,” Iaheru holds her tighter, wondering if such a simple action could inspire more courage within her gut. This attempt fell flat. “It is my prerogative to give you the world.”
"I will let you know," Iaheru blinked away tears, "I still have to scheme... You let me worry about that sweet girl."
When Neithotep moved to bring the woman into an embrace, Iaheru immediately wrapped herself around her daughter, smoothing her hair and simply existing in that painful moment. How had this happened? There were a million questions racing through Iaheru’s subconscious, but her immediate thoughts were blank. Nothing crossed her mind except for how she could possibly be there for her daughter in ways that no one was there for her.
When her daughter offers her assistance, Iaheru shook her head, pleading with the young woman not to silently as she cries alongside her in solidarity. “There was nothing you could do, love, my Nia,” she once again smooths out hair full of tangles from the night before. Perhaps a day of maintenance would serve her daughter well, though Iaheru sat in her salon for solace, she wondered if the space was too quiet to be alone with one’s thoughts. Especially so if Iahotep inevitably plagued her in her spare time. Iaheru knew that even in his death, Imophetasuma descended upon her at the most quiet of moments, instilling a fear that she long fought against. “There was nothing you did or could do, alright?”
“My suffering would be for nothing if I didn’t try to prevent yours,” Iaheru holds her tighter, wondering if such a simple action could inspire more courage within her gut. This attempt fell flat. “It is my prerogative to give you the world.”
"I will let you know," Iaheru blinked away tears, "I still have to scheme... You let me worry about that sweet girl."
Neithotep was hardly more than a child again as she wept in her mother’s arms, allowing herself to take comfort from Iaheru’s soothing words and caresses. That it should take something so dire to feel like she could hug her mother… One night would not heal the rift between them, but at least it was a start.
The Sheifa matriarch reassured her it was not her fault, that there was nothing she could have done, but still Nia thought perhaps there was something that could have prevented this heartache. If she had not attended the Sed festival, if she had not behaved so provocatively… Then again, would it have mattered? She would have had to return to the Palace at some point, anyway. She was a noble and hardly likely to escape the notice of the Pharaoh. Maybe it was only a matter of time.
Watery eyes gazed into ones so similar to her own, Iaheru blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. Nia couldn’t remember if she had ever seen her mother cry, not even when Sutekh was expelled from the saraaya. That she should be brought to tears now… She nearly started sobbing all over again at the thought. Why had she spent so many years pushing her away? Why had she ever believed Iaheru didn’t care?
“Thank you.”
The words were whispered and shaky, but they held an unprecedented depth of emotion, her grip on her mother trembling, but tight. What more could she say in the face of such sacrifice? The Sirdsett would give up everything for her, and that… There was no way she could ever repay such a debt. All she could do was offer her own aid, what little she could give. She did not have her mother’s strength or connections, nor her intelligence. But whatever she could do, she would. She meant it when she said she would not let Iaheru do this alone.
Raising a hand to rest against her mother’s cheek, Nia offered a melancholy smile, sniffling and impatiently blinking away further tears. “I don’t want the world, Mother. Just the freedom to choose my own path in it. A path where His Majesty cannot walk.”
Reluctantly, she stepped from the woman’s embrace, feeling her absence more keenly than she ever would have before. Almost, she stepped right back into it, but even she had her pride. She was a woman grown, and no matter how childishly she longed for the comfort of her mother, she had to stand on her own.
“I want to go to bed now,” she said, her voice as tiny as the child she felt like. “When you know more, we can talk again. Still, I fear what ears might listen.” Paranoid, her gaze cut toward the door as if there might be someone pressed to the other side. She was quiet for a moment, biting her lip before she spoke again, “Really. Thank you. I don’t… I don’t know how to say how… grateful I am. After the night on the roof, I… I didn’t know what to expect.”
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Neithotep was hardly more than a child again as she wept in her mother’s arms, allowing herself to take comfort from Iaheru’s soothing words and caresses. That it should take something so dire to feel like she could hug her mother… One night would not heal the rift between them, but at least it was a start.
The Sheifa matriarch reassured her it was not her fault, that there was nothing she could have done, but still Nia thought perhaps there was something that could have prevented this heartache. If she had not attended the Sed festival, if she had not behaved so provocatively… Then again, would it have mattered? She would have had to return to the Palace at some point, anyway. She was a noble and hardly likely to escape the notice of the Pharaoh. Maybe it was only a matter of time.
Watery eyes gazed into ones so similar to her own, Iaheru blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. Nia couldn’t remember if she had ever seen her mother cry, not even when Sutekh was expelled from the saraaya. That she should be brought to tears now… She nearly started sobbing all over again at the thought. Why had she spent so many years pushing her away? Why had she ever believed Iaheru didn’t care?
“Thank you.”
The words were whispered and shaky, but they held an unprecedented depth of emotion, her grip on her mother trembling, but tight. What more could she say in the face of such sacrifice? The Sirdsett would give up everything for her, and that… There was no way she could ever repay such a debt. All she could do was offer her own aid, what little she could give. She did not have her mother’s strength or connections, nor her intelligence. But whatever she could do, she would. She meant it when she said she would not let Iaheru do this alone.
Raising a hand to rest against her mother’s cheek, Nia offered a melancholy smile, sniffling and impatiently blinking away further tears. “I don’t want the world, Mother. Just the freedom to choose my own path in it. A path where His Majesty cannot walk.”
Reluctantly, she stepped from the woman’s embrace, feeling her absence more keenly than she ever would have before. Almost, she stepped right back into it, but even she had her pride. She was a woman grown, and no matter how childishly she longed for the comfort of her mother, she had to stand on her own.
“I want to go to bed now,” she said, her voice as tiny as the child she felt like. “When you know more, we can talk again. Still, I fear what ears might listen.” Paranoid, her gaze cut toward the door as if there might be someone pressed to the other side. She was quiet for a moment, biting her lip before she spoke again, “Really. Thank you. I don’t… I don’t know how to say how… grateful I am. After the night on the roof, I… I didn’t know what to expect.”
Neithotep was hardly more than a child again as she wept in her mother’s arms, allowing herself to take comfort from Iaheru’s soothing words and caresses. That it should take something so dire to feel like she could hug her mother… One night would not heal the rift between them, but at least it was a start.
The Sheifa matriarch reassured her it was not her fault, that there was nothing she could have done, but still Nia thought perhaps there was something that could have prevented this heartache. If she had not attended the Sed festival, if she had not behaved so provocatively… Then again, would it have mattered? She would have had to return to the Palace at some point, anyway. She was a noble and hardly likely to escape the notice of the Pharaoh. Maybe it was only a matter of time.
Watery eyes gazed into ones so similar to her own, Iaheru blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. Nia couldn’t remember if she had ever seen her mother cry, not even when Sutekh was expelled from the saraaya. That she should be brought to tears now… She nearly started sobbing all over again at the thought. Why had she spent so many years pushing her away? Why had she ever believed Iaheru didn’t care?
“Thank you.”
The words were whispered and shaky, but they held an unprecedented depth of emotion, her grip on her mother trembling, but tight. What more could she say in the face of such sacrifice? The Sirdsett would give up everything for her, and that… There was no way she could ever repay such a debt. All she could do was offer her own aid, what little she could give. She did not have her mother’s strength or connections, nor her intelligence. But whatever she could do, she would. She meant it when she said she would not let Iaheru do this alone.
Raising a hand to rest against her mother’s cheek, Nia offered a melancholy smile, sniffling and impatiently blinking away further tears. “I don’t want the world, Mother. Just the freedom to choose my own path in it. A path where His Majesty cannot walk.”
Reluctantly, she stepped from the woman’s embrace, feeling her absence more keenly than she ever would have before. Almost, she stepped right back into it, but even she had her pride. She was a woman grown, and no matter how childishly she longed for the comfort of her mother, she had to stand on her own.
“I want to go to bed now,” she said, her voice as tiny as the child she felt like. “When you know more, we can talk again. Still, I fear what ears might listen.” Paranoid, her gaze cut toward the door as if there might be someone pressed to the other side. She was quiet for a moment, biting her lip before she spoke again, “Really. Thank you. I don’t… I don’t know how to say how… grateful I am. After the night on the roof, I… I didn’t know what to expect.”
Her heart, steeled by the trauma she shared with the young woman crumpled against her. Iaheru was foreign to the intimacy, unfamiliar with comfort expected of commoner mothers, no, she had risen to a station beyond coddling.
Yet, a mother was a mother. And she comforted Neithotep in cold comforts and schemes, Iaheru’s only fluent language. Iahotep would be her prize, either through poisoned wine or scrambroiled shellfish her storehouses so frequently gifted Evening Star. Such a prize he was with his jagged, ugly scar that marred his flesh, as if that could deter a viper in the reeds. Her skin prickled with anger.
“I can’t… I can’t dismiss my servants but I will whittle it down to the most loyal of them,” Iaheru addresses the ears to the wall. Certainly, a woman of her stature had secrets to sell, how could she fault upstartedness when she had, at once, profited in the spheres of influence and secrets? “Cairo is your safe haven, as it is mine. As much as it can be.”
“You will find that the marble insulates from heat and whispers alike,” Iaheru relaxed, more at ease talking about her house than to her daughter, reverting to the stark dissonance between the two. Had Iaheru foregone a path traveled for love? For notoriety? Had she not traveled more fulfilling paths out of mere convenience? It troubled her deeply that her prerogative was to give her children the world she had carved for herself, not their own.
“Sleep well, daughter. I have a lot of love in my heart for you.”
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Dec 18, 2020 19:20:23 GMT
Posted In Seeing Double on Dec 18, 2020 19:20:23 GMT
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Her heart, steeled by the trauma she shared with the young woman crumpled against her. Iaheru was foreign to the intimacy, unfamiliar with comfort expected of commoner mothers, no, she had risen to a station beyond coddling.
Yet, a mother was a mother. And she comforted Neithotep in cold comforts and schemes, Iaheru’s only fluent language. Iahotep would be her prize, either through poisoned wine or scrambroiled shellfish her storehouses so frequently gifted Evening Star. Such a prize he was with his jagged, ugly scar that marred his flesh, as if that could deter a viper in the reeds. Her skin prickled with anger.
“I can’t… I can’t dismiss my servants but I will whittle it down to the most loyal of them,” Iaheru addresses the ears to the wall. Certainly, a woman of her stature had secrets to sell, how could she fault upstartedness when she had, at once, profited in the spheres of influence and secrets? “Cairo is your safe haven, as it is mine. As much as it can be.”
“You will find that the marble insulates from heat and whispers alike,” Iaheru relaxed, more at ease talking about her house than to her daughter, reverting to the stark dissonance between the two. Had Iaheru foregone a path traveled for love? For notoriety? Had she not traveled more fulfilling paths out of mere convenience? It troubled her deeply that her prerogative was to give her children the world she had carved for herself, not their own.
“Sleep well, daughter. I have a lot of love in my heart for you.”
Her heart, steeled by the trauma she shared with the young woman crumpled against her. Iaheru was foreign to the intimacy, unfamiliar with comfort expected of commoner mothers, no, she had risen to a station beyond coddling.
Yet, a mother was a mother. And she comforted Neithotep in cold comforts and schemes, Iaheru’s only fluent language. Iahotep would be her prize, either through poisoned wine or scrambroiled shellfish her storehouses so frequently gifted Evening Star. Such a prize he was with his jagged, ugly scar that marred his flesh, as if that could deter a viper in the reeds. Her skin prickled with anger.
“I can’t… I can’t dismiss my servants but I will whittle it down to the most loyal of them,” Iaheru addresses the ears to the wall. Certainly, a woman of her stature had secrets to sell, how could she fault upstartedness when she had, at once, profited in the spheres of influence and secrets? “Cairo is your safe haven, as it is mine. As much as it can be.”
“You will find that the marble insulates from heat and whispers alike,” Iaheru relaxed, more at ease talking about her house than to her daughter, reverting to the stark dissonance between the two. Had Iaheru foregone a path traveled for love? For notoriety? Had she not traveled more fulfilling paths out of mere convenience? It troubled her deeply that her prerogative was to give her children the world she had carved for herself, not their own.
“Sleep well, daughter. I have a lot of love in my heart for you.”
‘I can’t… I can’t dismiss my servants but I will whittle it down to the most loyal of them.’
Nia gave a single nod in response; there was little else that could be done. That she was willing to even do that was enough and spoke volumes of the care Iaheru held for her offspring. To sacrifice some luxury for peace of mind was a hefty loss in a position like theirs, but it was one Nia would happily take. Her siblings on the other hand? Well, it was just a good thing Iaheru wasn’t going to get rid of all the slaves.
Reassuring her in couched terms that her secrets were safe within the walls of their Cairo home, Nia nodded again before turning away and saying she wanted to sleep. The only thing that stopped her leaving the room at that moment was the next words her mother uttered, her heart clenching deep within her chest.
‘Sleep well, daughter. I have a lot of love in my heart for you.’
They were not a family that was overly demonstrative with their affection, and most certainly not the two that stood in that room. ‘I love you’ were not words that were often used within the Sheifa household, and had she been holding anything, she likely would have dropped it. Turning back to look at the Sirdsett, Nia’s face softened for a moment as she hesitated in the doorway.
“I love you, too.”
It was hardly more than a whisper when she spoke, her hand lingering on the doorframe. She opened her mouth for a moment as if she might say something else before changing her mind, closing it, and shaking her head. “Good night, Mother.”
And with that, she was off down the hall, weary footsteps carrying her up the stairs to the reprieve of her bedroom as everything said and unsaid alike echoed off the walls she left behind.
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Dec 29, 2020 22:23:25 GMT
Posted In Seeing Double on Dec 29, 2020 22:23:25 GMT
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‘I can’t… I can’t dismiss my servants but I will whittle it down to the most loyal of them.’
Nia gave a single nod in response; there was little else that could be done. That she was willing to even do that was enough and spoke volumes of the care Iaheru held for her offspring. To sacrifice some luxury for peace of mind was a hefty loss in a position like theirs, but it was one Nia would happily take. Her siblings on the other hand? Well, it was just a good thing Iaheru wasn’t going to get rid of all the slaves.
Reassuring her in couched terms that her secrets were safe within the walls of their Cairo home, Nia nodded again before turning away and saying she wanted to sleep. The only thing that stopped her leaving the room at that moment was the next words her mother uttered, her heart clenching deep within her chest.
‘Sleep well, daughter. I have a lot of love in my heart for you.’
They were not a family that was overly demonstrative with their affection, and most certainly not the two that stood in that room. ‘I love you’ were not words that were often used within the Sheifa household, and had she been holding anything, she likely would have dropped it. Turning back to look at the Sirdsett, Nia’s face softened for a moment as she hesitated in the doorway.
“I love you, too.”
It was hardly more than a whisper when she spoke, her hand lingering on the doorframe. She opened her mouth for a moment as if she might say something else before changing her mind, closing it, and shaking her head. “Good night, Mother.”
And with that, she was off down the hall, weary footsteps carrying her up the stairs to the reprieve of her bedroom as everything said and unsaid alike echoed off the walls she left behind.
‘I can’t… I can’t dismiss my servants but I will whittle it down to the most loyal of them.’
Nia gave a single nod in response; there was little else that could be done. That she was willing to even do that was enough and spoke volumes of the care Iaheru held for her offspring. To sacrifice some luxury for peace of mind was a hefty loss in a position like theirs, but it was one Nia would happily take. Her siblings on the other hand? Well, it was just a good thing Iaheru wasn’t going to get rid of all the slaves.
Reassuring her in couched terms that her secrets were safe within the walls of their Cairo home, Nia nodded again before turning away and saying she wanted to sleep. The only thing that stopped her leaving the room at that moment was the next words her mother uttered, her heart clenching deep within her chest.
‘Sleep well, daughter. I have a lot of love in my heart for you.’
They were not a family that was overly demonstrative with their affection, and most certainly not the two that stood in that room. ‘I love you’ were not words that were often used within the Sheifa household, and had she been holding anything, she likely would have dropped it. Turning back to look at the Sirdsett, Nia’s face softened for a moment as she hesitated in the doorway.
“I love you, too.”
It was hardly more than a whisper when she spoke, her hand lingering on the doorframe. She opened her mouth for a moment as if she might say something else before changing her mind, closing it, and shaking her head. “Good night, Mother.”
And with that, she was off down the hall, weary footsteps carrying her up the stairs to the reprieve of her bedroom as everything said and unsaid alike echoed off the walls she left behind.
