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After a long day of machinations, Iaheru was happy that her children had been recalled to Cairo, where they’d all sit at the wooden table imported from lands afar, carved with motifs of the Nile she cherished so deeply. It was no secret that Cairo was where she thrived, in the brown silty banks among frogs and ships bound to sea. In a not so distant past, her husband would sail to see her at night and sail to Thebes by morning. He was at home in the prow of a ship and she had learned to make home behind him, wrapping her arms around a lean chest, nose finding the crook of his neck to bring in the smells of fine perfume intermingled with dew of sweat.
That was a past life.
Now she had her children, but her children didn’t quite have her. Nenet and Nefertaari took to her, as they always had. Nefertaari always leaned more towards her father, the apple of his eye after the unspeakable was revealed. There was little to worry about with their eldest.
Neithotep embodied to unspeakable. Perhaps this was the reason Iaheru called this dinner. A divided front had injured a member of their fold, unilaterally they could overcome the sins of their mother, at least, Iaheru hoped. Though her daughter’s secret was like the mother’s, unspeakable, Iaheru hoped that the bonds of family would fortify support.
Sutekh, he was not invited. Although he had been invited to his mother’s home. Yes, his mother’s home, a testament to her wealth and prosperity independent of Onuphrious.
Nenet, gentle and sweet. Ever jealous of her sister’s forms and graces. Iaheru took to babying the youngest woman, despite the fact that Iaheru, at Nenet’s age, had already suffered so greatly. It was a mother’s duty to protect, but even Iaheru knew that protection had to withdraw at some point, regardless of affliction.
Akhenaten. Akhenaten. The baby. The spoiled. The flamboyant. In many ways, Iaheru hated to admit that her temper infected her son. His father’s temperament had only be revealed recently, but his mother’s was constant. If she had known the fate of the Sheifa Hei relied on Akhenaten of all people, she would’ve worked twice as hard to cultivate and tame his temperaments and lack of judgement. However, the young man was barely a man. Time had yet to weather childish inclinations and the sickness of wealth beyond measure.
And she, she sat at the head of the table, entirely sinful. Entirely guilty but with a stiff upper lip that demanded the respect she would not receive. As they filed in, like prisoners sentenced to her perception, slaves followed. The rustle of olive trees in the background provided rhythm to their steps as if a dance tickled their toes. Iaheru wore commoner clothes, work clothes from a hard day at the Customs Houses along the riverbanks of Cairo. The faint stain of kohl running around the perimeter of her eyes that the oils couldn’t quite sop up.
“Welcome,” she smiled, plates of appetizers and cheese filling the center of the long canvas runner. How she begged the night to be absent of silence. “I’m happy to have all my children in one place. Come, let’s celebrate our blessings.”
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After a long day of machinations, Iaheru was happy that her children had been recalled to Cairo, where they’d all sit at the wooden table imported from lands afar, carved with motifs of the Nile she cherished so deeply. It was no secret that Cairo was where she thrived, in the brown silty banks among frogs and ships bound to sea. In a not so distant past, her husband would sail to see her at night and sail to Thebes by morning. He was at home in the prow of a ship and she had learned to make home behind him, wrapping her arms around a lean chest, nose finding the crook of his neck to bring in the smells of fine perfume intermingled with dew of sweat.
That was a past life.
Now she had her children, but her children didn’t quite have her. Nenet and Nefertaari took to her, as they always had. Nefertaari always leaned more towards her father, the apple of his eye after the unspeakable was revealed. There was little to worry about with their eldest.
Neithotep embodied to unspeakable. Perhaps this was the reason Iaheru called this dinner. A divided front had injured a member of their fold, unilaterally they could overcome the sins of their mother, at least, Iaheru hoped. Though her daughter’s secret was like the mother’s, unspeakable, Iaheru hoped that the bonds of family would fortify support.
Sutekh, he was not invited. Although he had been invited to his mother’s home. Yes, his mother’s home, a testament to her wealth and prosperity independent of Onuphrious.
Nenet, gentle and sweet. Ever jealous of her sister’s forms and graces. Iaheru took to babying the youngest woman, despite the fact that Iaheru, at Nenet’s age, had already suffered so greatly. It was a mother’s duty to protect, but even Iaheru knew that protection had to withdraw at some point, regardless of affliction.
Akhenaten. Akhenaten. The baby. The spoiled. The flamboyant. In many ways, Iaheru hated to admit that her temper infected her son. His father’s temperament had only be revealed recently, but his mother’s was constant. If she had known the fate of the Sheifa Hei relied on Akhenaten of all people, she would’ve worked twice as hard to cultivate and tame his temperaments and lack of judgement. However, the young man was barely a man. Time had yet to weather childish inclinations and the sickness of wealth beyond measure.
And she, she sat at the head of the table, entirely sinful. Entirely guilty but with a stiff upper lip that demanded the respect she would not receive. As they filed in, like prisoners sentenced to her perception, slaves followed. The rustle of olive trees in the background provided rhythm to their steps as if a dance tickled their toes. Iaheru wore commoner clothes, work clothes from a hard day at the Customs Houses along the riverbanks of Cairo. The faint stain of kohl running around the perimeter of her eyes that the oils couldn’t quite sop up.
“Welcome,” she smiled, plates of appetizers and cheese filling the center of the long canvas runner. How she begged the night to be absent of silence. “I’m happy to have all my children in one place. Come, let’s celebrate our blessings.”
After a long day of machinations, Iaheru was happy that her children had been recalled to Cairo, where they’d all sit at the wooden table imported from lands afar, carved with motifs of the Nile she cherished so deeply. It was no secret that Cairo was where she thrived, in the brown silty banks among frogs and ships bound to sea. In a not so distant past, her husband would sail to see her at night and sail to Thebes by morning. He was at home in the prow of a ship and she had learned to make home behind him, wrapping her arms around a lean chest, nose finding the crook of his neck to bring in the smells of fine perfume intermingled with dew of sweat.
That was a past life.
Now she had her children, but her children didn’t quite have her. Nenet and Nefertaari took to her, as they always had. Nefertaari always leaned more towards her father, the apple of his eye after the unspeakable was revealed. There was little to worry about with their eldest.
Neithotep embodied to unspeakable. Perhaps this was the reason Iaheru called this dinner. A divided front had injured a member of their fold, unilaterally they could overcome the sins of their mother, at least, Iaheru hoped. Though her daughter’s secret was like the mother’s, unspeakable, Iaheru hoped that the bonds of family would fortify support.
Sutekh, he was not invited. Although he had been invited to his mother’s home. Yes, his mother’s home, a testament to her wealth and prosperity independent of Onuphrious.
Nenet, gentle and sweet. Ever jealous of her sister’s forms and graces. Iaheru took to babying the youngest woman, despite the fact that Iaheru, at Nenet’s age, had already suffered so greatly. It was a mother’s duty to protect, but even Iaheru knew that protection had to withdraw at some point, regardless of affliction.
Akhenaten. Akhenaten. The baby. The spoiled. The flamboyant. In many ways, Iaheru hated to admit that her temper infected her son. His father’s temperament had only be revealed recently, but his mother’s was constant. If she had known the fate of the Sheifa Hei relied on Akhenaten of all people, she would’ve worked twice as hard to cultivate and tame his temperaments and lack of judgement. However, the young man was barely a man. Time had yet to weather childish inclinations and the sickness of wealth beyond measure.
And she, she sat at the head of the table, entirely sinful. Entirely guilty but with a stiff upper lip that demanded the respect she would not receive. As they filed in, like prisoners sentenced to her perception, slaves followed. The rustle of olive trees in the background provided rhythm to their steps as if a dance tickled their toes. Iaheru wore commoner clothes, work clothes from a hard day at the Customs Houses along the riverbanks of Cairo. The faint stain of kohl running around the perimeter of her eyes that the oils couldn’t quite sop up.
“Welcome,” she smiled, plates of appetizers and cheese filling the center of the long canvas runner. How she begged the night to be absent of silence. “I’m happy to have all my children in one place. Come, let’s celebrate our blessings.”
A family dinner. Neithotep H’Sheifa wanted to laugh at the thought; the concept of ‘family’ seemed lost on every member of the clan. Even long before their matriarch’s disgrace, a rift had formed between them all—Nia and Hena on one side with the rest sitting so prim and proper on the other. Perhaps there were divides between them, as well, but nothing to the split that saw the ‘bad’ children always lingering on the edge, scorning a family who had left them to their own devices and then expected them to be equipped for the harsh realities of the world they were facing now.
Yes, what a family they were.
That rift had been growing ever deeper in the past months, the revelation of Iaheru’s indiscretion shattering the illusion of an unwavering marriage and sowing discord among the children that remained. The family dynamic would shift to one none of them were prepared for, the fate of the Hei suddenly resting in the hands of the half-forgotten son. And then that rift grew, even coming between the inseparable pair of Neithotep and Akhenaten, forcing doubt into a relationship that had always been so strong. A secret kept, a secret revealed, and all the siblings could do was rage at circumstance that couldn’t be changed.
A secret kept and a secret revealed again, mother and daughter sharing a common bond that neither should have had to endure. Perhaps that was why Iaheru called this dinner now, to prove to her wayward daughter that she was not as alone as she felt, that the Sirdsett had not completely abandoned her wild offspring to the whims of a cruel world. All Nia could think was, Too little, too late.
But even as she took her seat, unusually taking to her mother’s side, there was a quiet gratitude there, one that lay as silent as the revelations shared between them. She nodded to Iaheru as she sat down, glancing about the still empty room. It was shocking that she was the first to arrive to a family obligation; most times, she couldn’t even be bothered to attend. She supposed she felt compelled to do so this time, a debt repaid for a burden she had placed on an unsteady back. It was the least she could do, really. Iaheru had asked her to be here, and she was. That didn’t mean she had to say a word.
“You’re brave, summoning us all together like this,” she muttered to her mother as she smoothed the skirt of her kalasiris, a hint of her old mischief lingering in a midnight gaze. “Did you make a sacrifice to the gods first? I’m sure they’re the only ones who can keep us on a rein now.”
Though perhaps without Sutekh there and with their father still lingering in Thebes, as far as she knew, it would not be such a travesty. Surely, the Hei Sheifa could be tame and amicable for one evening. Right?
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A family dinner. Neithotep H’Sheifa wanted to laugh at the thought; the concept of ‘family’ seemed lost on every member of the clan. Even long before their matriarch’s disgrace, a rift had formed between them all—Nia and Hena on one side with the rest sitting so prim and proper on the other. Perhaps there were divides between them, as well, but nothing to the split that saw the ‘bad’ children always lingering on the edge, scorning a family who had left them to their own devices and then expected them to be equipped for the harsh realities of the world they were facing now.
Yes, what a family they were.
That rift had been growing ever deeper in the past months, the revelation of Iaheru’s indiscretion shattering the illusion of an unwavering marriage and sowing discord among the children that remained. The family dynamic would shift to one none of them were prepared for, the fate of the Hei suddenly resting in the hands of the half-forgotten son. And then that rift grew, even coming between the inseparable pair of Neithotep and Akhenaten, forcing doubt into a relationship that had always been so strong. A secret kept, a secret revealed, and all the siblings could do was rage at circumstance that couldn’t be changed.
A secret kept and a secret revealed again, mother and daughter sharing a common bond that neither should have had to endure. Perhaps that was why Iaheru called this dinner now, to prove to her wayward daughter that she was not as alone as she felt, that the Sirdsett had not completely abandoned her wild offspring to the whims of a cruel world. All Nia could think was, Too little, too late.
But even as she took her seat, unusually taking to her mother’s side, there was a quiet gratitude there, one that lay as silent as the revelations shared between them. She nodded to Iaheru as she sat down, glancing about the still empty room. It was shocking that she was the first to arrive to a family obligation; most times, she couldn’t even be bothered to attend. She supposed she felt compelled to do so this time, a debt repaid for a burden she had placed on an unsteady back. It was the least she could do, really. Iaheru had asked her to be here, and she was. That didn’t mean she had to say a word.
“You’re brave, summoning us all together like this,” she muttered to her mother as she smoothed the skirt of her kalasiris, a hint of her old mischief lingering in a midnight gaze. “Did you make a sacrifice to the gods first? I’m sure they’re the only ones who can keep us on a rein now.”
Though perhaps without Sutekh there and with their father still lingering in Thebes, as far as she knew, it would not be such a travesty. Surely, the Hei Sheifa could be tame and amicable for one evening. Right?
A family dinner. Neithotep H’Sheifa wanted to laugh at the thought; the concept of ‘family’ seemed lost on every member of the clan. Even long before their matriarch’s disgrace, a rift had formed between them all—Nia and Hena on one side with the rest sitting so prim and proper on the other. Perhaps there were divides between them, as well, but nothing to the split that saw the ‘bad’ children always lingering on the edge, scorning a family who had left them to their own devices and then expected them to be equipped for the harsh realities of the world they were facing now.
Yes, what a family they were.
That rift had been growing ever deeper in the past months, the revelation of Iaheru’s indiscretion shattering the illusion of an unwavering marriage and sowing discord among the children that remained. The family dynamic would shift to one none of them were prepared for, the fate of the Hei suddenly resting in the hands of the half-forgotten son. And then that rift grew, even coming between the inseparable pair of Neithotep and Akhenaten, forcing doubt into a relationship that had always been so strong. A secret kept, a secret revealed, and all the siblings could do was rage at circumstance that couldn’t be changed.
A secret kept and a secret revealed again, mother and daughter sharing a common bond that neither should have had to endure. Perhaps that was why Iaheru called this dinner now, to prove to her wayward daughter that she was not as alone as she felt, that the Sirdsett had not completely abandoned her wild offspring to the whims of a cruel world. All Nia could think was, Too little, too late.
But even as she took her seat, unusually taking to her mother’s side, there was a quiet gratitude there, one that lay as silent as the revelations shared between them. She nodded to Iaheru as she sat down, glancing about the still empty room. It was shocking that she was the first to arrive to a family obligation; most times, she couldn’t even be bothered to attend. She supposed she felt compelled to do so this time, a debt repaid for a burden she had placed on an unsteady back. It was the least she could do, really. Iaheru had asked her to be here, and she was. That didn’t mean she had to say a word.
“You’re brave, summoning us all together like this,” she muttered to her mother as she smoothed the skirt of her kalasiris, a hint of her old mischief lingering in a midnight gaze. “Did you make a sacrifice to the gods first? I’m sure they’re the only ones who can keep us on a rein now.”
Though perhaps without Sutekh there and with their father still lingering in Thebes, as far as she knew, it would not be such a travesty. Surely, the Hei Sheifa could be tame and amicable for one evening. Right?
"Anastasia the bard,"
The courier began his rehearsed delivery, and Anastasia was bemused, but also curious enough to hear him out. Not one to indulge herself in the rudeness that some patrons might've in a tavern or on the srtreets, she was remiss for a reason to turn the bard away. Instead, she stood in front of the man in her doorway, a chalice of wine raised near her jawline before she tipped it towards her mouth to take a long sip of it.
"You have been cordially invited to the residence of Iaheru H'Sheifa,"
Wait, what?
The Fallen Star thought that she made a fair impression on the woman when they'd met. She remembered the almost comical offering of her own wine to her, but, in the midst of it all, the matriarch of Hei Sheifa did not seem so averse to her. But, who was? Anastasia did not create a reputation of being some repugnant hussy clinging to the arm of Akhenaten. She did her utmost to present her most beautiful and poised face, just as she had the very day that the young Sheifa met her.
"For dinner with the family."
Oh, shit.
For the sake of the sheer, but exquisite white fabric that so barely covered her body, she did not spit out wine. Instead, she swallowed hard, raising the glass to her lips anew as if holding to it for dear life. Now that, she'd never expected. Was she to meet Hena's father? His sisters? He'd seen the entire harakat at the Sheifa property, but had made herself scarce in the one grand visit she'd paid. Invited to a mess of thieves' machinations and terrified guests, Ana was all too eager to make her daring escape when the shit hit the fan. And she had. It was Akhenaten who'd hunted her down in an angry fit after and then, their relationship bloomed.
"You have three hours to prepare. What is your response?"
What a stick in the mud.
For a man delivering personal summons of a somewhat lighter nature, he had the stone-like visage of terror that the bard could only equate to those who stood in the path of Medusa.
"You may tell your mistress that I am honoured to accept her invitation."
She placed a coin into the courier's palm before he made his way without another word. She found a bubbling excitement dwell within her, then the looming realization that she'd need as much of that three hour window, so she made her haste.
Half the time spent in a luxurious bath of scented oils and flowers, the Greek's limbs felt like jelly when she emerged, adequately pampered to arrive looking every bit the arm candy that she was now. She placed a thin layer of malachite underneath her eyelids, marking the rest of her eye with meticulously applied kohl. Then, carmine fell to her puckered lips, and the nymph was prepared wiht just enough time to arrive at... was this a saraaya?
Ana really didn't know anything about property, so used to being a traveler for little regard for where she rested. Life was different now, and these sorts of dinners were, if anything, to be expected of her.
How foolish she was.
Anastasia left her house in a slow, careful gait, the gentle curves of her body just covered up with a network dress made of finely twisted linens and bound by rings of gold. Upon her throat she wore a matching collar of gold that rested just above her clavicles, layered with similar, but thinner threads that were woven into the garment itself. About her waist and supporting the golden cap that covered her sex from the elements were gold-tinged silks wrapped in a sash. Ready for anything, or so she thought, Anastasia arrived just in time for her to hear the matriarch speak.
The tension in the room was palpable, and she immediately abandoned her illusions of a pleasant dinner party with her not-family.
This is something else...
Too formal to be about her, Ana settled herself next to Hena, placing her hand just above his knee with an affectionate squeeze before taking a kiss from the man directly in front of his family.
"Thank you, for inviting me," she said, before falling into place, a silent witness to what might unfurl.
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"Anastasia the bard,"
The courier began his rehearsed delivery, and Anastasia was bemused, but also curious enough to hear him out. Not one to indulge herself in the rudeness that some patrons might've in a tavern or on the srtreets, she was remiss for a reason to turn the bard away. Instead, she stood in front of the man in her doorway, a chalice of wine raised near her jawline before she tipped it towards her mouth to take a long sip of it.
"You have been cordially invited to the residence of Iaheru H'Sheifa,"
Wait, what?
The Fallen Star thought that she made a fair impression on the woman when they'd met. She remembered the almost comical offering of her own wine to her, but, in the midst of it all, the matriarch of Hei Sheifa did not seem so averse to her. But, who was? Anastasia did not create a reputation of being some repugnant hussy clinging to the arm of Akhenaten. She did her utmost to present her most beautiful and poised face, just as she had the very day that the young Sheifa met her.
"For dinner with the family."
Oh, shit.
For the sake of the sheer, but exquisite white fabric that so barely covered her body, she did not spit out wine. Instead, she swallowed hard, raising the glass to her lips anew as if holding to it for dear life. Now that, she'd never expected. Was she to meet Hena's father? His sisters? He'd seen the entire harakat at the Sheifa property, but had made herself scarce in the one grand visit she'd paid. Invited to a mess of thieves' machinations and terrified guests, Ana was all too eager to make her daring escape when the shit hit the fan. And she had. It was Akhenaten who'd hunted her down in an angry fit after and then, their relationship bloomed.
"You have three hours to prepare. What is your response?"
What a stick in the mud.
For a man delivering personal summons of a somewhat lighter nature, he had the stone-like visage of terror that the bard could only equate to those who stood in the path of Medusa.
"You may tell your mistress that I am honoured to accept her invitation."
She placed a coin into the courier's palm before he made his way without another word. She found a bubbling excitement dwell within her, then the looming realization that she'd need as much of that three hour window, so she made her haste.
Half the time spent in a luxurious bath of scented oils and flowers, the Greek's limbs felt like jelly when she emerged, adequately pampered to arrive looking every bit the arm candy that she was now. She placed a thin layer of malachite underneath her eyelids, marking the rest of her eye with meticulously applied kohl. Then, carmine fell to her puckered lips, and the nymph was prepared wiht just enough time to arrive at... was this a saraaya?
Ana really didn't know anything about property, so used to being a traveler for little regard for where she rested. Life was different now, and these sorts of dinners were, if anything, to be expected of her.
How foolish she was.
Anastasia left her house in a slow, careful gait, the gentle curves of her body just covered up with a network dress made of finely twisted linens and bound by rings of gold. Upon her throat she wore a matching collar of gold that rested just above her clavicles, layered with similar, but thinner threads that were woven into the garment itself. About her waist and supporting the golden cap that covered her sex from the elements were gold-tinged silks wrapped in a sash. Ready for anything, or so she thought, Anastasia arrived just in time for her to hear the matriarch speak.
The tension in the room was palpable, and she immediately abandoned her illusions of a pleasant dinner party with her not-family.
This is something else...
Too formal to be about her, Ana settled herself next to Hena, placing her hand just above his knee with an affectionate squeeze before taking a kiss from the man directly in front of his family.
"Thank you, for inviting me," she said, before falling into place, a silent witness to what might unfurl.
"Anastasia the bard,"
The courier began his rehearsed delivery, and Anastasia was bemused, but also curious enough to hear him out. Not one to indulge herself in the rudeness that some patrons might've in a tavern or on the srtreets, she was remiss for a reason to turn the bard away. Instead, she stood in front of the man in her doorway, a chalice of wine raised near her jawline before she tipped it towards her mouth to take a long sip of it.
"You have been cordially invited to the residence of Iaheru H'Sheifa,"
Wait, what?
The Fallen Star thought that she made a fair impression on the woman when they'd met. She remembered the almost comical offering of her own wine to her, but, in the midst of it all, the matriarch of Hei Sheifa did not seem so averse to her. But, who was? Anastasia did not create a reputation of being some repugnant hussy clinging to the arm of Akhenaten. She did her utmost to present her most beautiful and poised face, just as she had the very day that the young Sheifa met her.
"For dinner with the family."
Oh, shit.
For the sake of the sheer, but exquisite white fabric that so barely covered her body, she did not spit out wine. Instead, she swallowed hard, raising the glass to her lips anew as if holding to it for dear life. Now that, she'd never expected. Was she to meet Hena's father? His sisters? He'd seen the entire harakat at the Sheifa property, but had made herself scarce in the one grand visit she'd paid. Invited to a mess of thieves' machinations and terrified guests, Ana was all too eager to make her daring escape when the shit hit the fan. And she had. It was Akhenaten who'd hunted her down in an angry fit after and then, their relationship bloomed.
"You have three hours to prepare. What is your response?"
What a stick in the mud.
For a man delivering personal summons of a somewhat lighter nature, he had the stone-like visage of terror that the bard could only equate to those who stood in the path of Medusa.
"You may tell your mistress that I am honoured to accept her invitation."
She placed a coin into the courier's palm before he made his way without another word. She found a bubbling excitement dwell within her, then the looming realization that she'd need as much of that three hour window, so she made her haste.
Half the time spent in a luxurious bath of scented oils and flowers, the Greek's limbs felt like jelly when she emerged, adequately pampered to arrive looking every bit the arm candy that she was now. She placed a thin layer of malachite underneath her eyelids, marking the rest of her eye with meticulously applied kohl. Then, carmine fell to her puckered lips, and the nymph was prepared wiht just enough time to arrive at... was this a saraaya?
Ana really didn't know anything about property, so used to being a traveler for little regard for where she rested. Life was different now, and these sorts of dinners were, if anything, to be expected of her.
How foolish she was.
Anastasia left her house in a slow, careful gait, the gentle curves of her body just covered up with a network dress made of finely twisted linens and bound by rings of gold. Upon her throat she wore a matching collar of gold that rested just above her clavicles, layered with similar, but thinner threads that were woven into the garment itself. About her waist and supporting the golden cap that covered her sex from the elements were gold-tinged silks wrapped in a sash. Ready for anything, or so she thought, Anastasia arrived just in time for her to hear the matriarch speak.
The tension in the room was palpable, and she immediately abandoned her illusions of a pleasant dinner party with her not-family.
This is something else...
Too formal to be about her, Ana settled herself next to Hena, placing her hand just above his knee with an affectionate squeeze before taking a kiss from the man directly in front of his family.
"Thank you, for inviting me," she said, before falling into place, a silent witness to what might unfurl.
There were better things Nefertaari could do with her time than spend it among her siblings, but her reputation for being a dutiful daughter spurred her onward. Typically, the first to arrive at the beck and call of their parents, the eldest of Iaheru’s children faltered in the entryway, barely able to conceal the surprise that threatened to appear on her carefully sculpted features. Her jaw tensed and her fingers curled into fists, the tips of her nails biting crescents into the flesh of her palms.
Worse than that, Nia was not the only one that arrived before Nefertaari. Her gaze drifted to Hena and Anastasia, also seated already. That meant that only Nenet was not here yet, which made Nefertaari look even worse. She sucked in a quiet breath of air, a single beat of her heart passing before her mouth opened.
“Nia!” Nef exclaimed. With the use of her sister’s nickname, the woman’s bewilderment became audible. Not one to allow her siblings to show her up generally and without the presence, thus far at least, of their father, Nef took up the chair opposite Iaheru from Neithotep. "How unexpected of you to join us.”
The words were biting, accompanied with a reptilian smile that was a hair too wide for the comfort of most. It tested the bounds of Nef’s beauty, twisting her mouth in such a way. If she had something equally nasty to say to her brother, she failed to disclose as much. If anything, Hena seemed to mostly stay out of her way. There was nothing she could do to take his place short of killing him or marrying him, and the former was a thought she admittedly entertained now and then.
Anastasia was not quite so known to her, and it left Nefertaari curious more so than anything else. If she envied the woman, it was not over her brother. Nefertaari was a product of her parents’ pride, and in her own mind, her only flaw was that she lacked male genitalia. If Anastasia’s level of competence trumped her brother’s—an easy feat if one asked Nefertaari—then perhaps not all was lost.
Rather than vocalize a greeting to the Greek woman, Nefertaari only lifted her chin. It was more than her brother received, which was fleeting glance. “Good evening, mother. It’s wonderful to see you looking so lovely and well,” Nefertaari said, smiling gently to Iaheru.
Always a hard temper to gauge, there was a little more rigidity in Nefertaari’s body language this evening. Her troubles, whatever they were, she would keep to herself in front of their mother. But out of the woman’s sight? It was hard to determine which one got the brunt of her spiteful bitterness.
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Check out their information page here.
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There were better things Nefertaari could do with her time than spend it among her siblings, but her reputation for being a dutiful daughter spurred her onward. Typically, the first to arrive at the beck and call of their parents, the eldest of Iaheru’s children faltered in the entryway, barely able to conceal the surprise that threatened to appear on her carefully sculpted features. Her jaw tensed and her fingers curled into fists, the tips of her nails biting crescents into the flesh of her palms.
Worse than that, Nia was not the only one that arrived before Nefertaari. Her gaze drifted to Hena and Anastasia, also seated already. That meant that only Nenet was not here yet, which made Nefertaari look even worse. She sucked in a quiet breath of air, a single beat of her heart passing before her mouth opened.
“Nia!” Nef exclaimed. With the use of her sister’s nickname, the woman’s bewilderment became audible. Not one to allow her siblings to show her up generally and without the presence, thus far at least, of their father, Nef took up the chair opposite Iaheru from Neithotep. "How unexpected of you to join us.”
The words were biting, accompanied with a reptilian smile that was a hair too wide for the comfort of most. It tested the bounds of Nef’s beauty, twisting her mouth in such a way. If she had something equally nasty to say to her brother, she failed to disclose as much. If anything, Hena seemed to mostly stay out of her way. There was nothing she could do to take his place short of killing him or marrying him, and the former was a thought she admittedly entertained now and then.
Anastasia was not quite so known to her, and it left Nefertaari curious more so than anything else. If she envied the woman, it was not over her brother. Nefertaari was a product of her parents’ pride, and in her own mind, her only flaw was that she lacked male genitalia. If Anastasia’s level of competence trumped her brother’s—an easy feat if one asked Nefertaari—then perhaps not all was lost.
Rather than vocalize a greeting to the Greek woman, Nefertaari only lifted her chin. It was more than her brother received, which was fleeting glance. “Good evening, mother. It’s wonderful to see you looking so lovely and well,” Nefertaari said, smiling gently to Iaheru.
Always a hard temper to gauge, there was a little more rigidity in Nefertaari’s body language this evening. Her troubles, whatever they were, she would keep to herself in front of their mother. But out of the woman’s sight? It was hard to determine which one got the brunt of her spiteful bitterness.
There were better things Nefertaari could do with her time than spend it among her siblings, but her reputation for being a dutiful daughter spurred her onward. Typically, the first to arrive at the beck and call of their parents, the eldest of Iaheru’s children faltered in the entryway, barely able to conceal the surprise that threatened to appear on her carefully sculpted features. Her jaw tensed and her fingers curled into fists, the tips of her nails biting crescents into the flesh of her palms.
Worse than that, Nia was not the only one that arrived before Nefertaari. Her gaze drifted to Hena and Anastasia, also seated already. That meant that only Nenet was not here yet, which made Nefertaari look even worse. She sucked in a quiet breath of air, a single beat of her heart passing before her mouth opened.
“Nia!” Nef exclaimed. With the use of her sister’s nickname, the woman’s bewilderment became audible. Not one to allow her siblings to show her up generally and without the presence, thus far at least, of their father, Nef took up the chair opposite Iaheru from Neithotep. "How unexpected of you to join us.”
The words were biting, accompanied with a reptilian smile that was a hair too wide for the comfort of most. It tested the bounds of Nef’s beauty, twisting her mouth in such a way. If she had something equally nasty to say to her brother, she failed to disclose as much. If anything, Hena seemed to mostly stay out of her way. There was nothing she could do to take his place short of killing him or marrying him, and the former was a thought she admittedly entertained now and then.
Anastasia was not quite so known to her, and it left Nefertaari curious more so than anything else. If she envied the woman, it was not over her brother. Nefertaari was a product of her parents’ pride, and in her own mind, her only flaw was that she lacked male genitalia. If Anastasia’s level of competence trumped her brother’s—an easy feat if one asked Nefertaari—then perhaps not all was lost.
Rather than vocalize a greeting to the Greek woman, Nefertaari only lifted her chin. It was more than her brother received, which was fleeting glance. “Good evening, mother. It’s wonderful to see you looking so lovely and well,” Nefertaari said, smiling gently to Iaheru.
Always a hard temper to gauge, there was a little more rigidity in Nefertaari’s body language this evening. Her troubles, whatever they were, she would keep to herself in front of their mother. But out of the woman’s sight? It was hard to determine which one got the brunt of her spiteful bitterness.
A family dinner was the absolute last thing that Akhenaten wanted to attend. His family was not his family, not in his mind. By name and blood? Sure. But if it was his choice, every single one of them would be cut from the family lines.
It wasn’t his choice though. At least not yet.
It had been hard for him to accept his role as the new heir when it had first been announced, he had hated and dread it. But now? As more and more pieces were falling into place, Hena wasn’t against hurrying his father from his place as head of the house if it came to that. The power and title was becoming more appealing as Hena felt himself slowly changing into a man, grown beyond the simple years of the boy he had been not so long ago,
Today, he attended for one reason and one reason only. Nia. He would go because she would not want to be there on her own, left to deal with their parents and their sisters. It was a good thing that he loved her enough to do such a thing.
In his usual manner, Hena decked himself out in finery. If the family was going to gather, if he was going to be sniped at and judged by his family as usual, he was going to hold himself proud and tall. He would show them, when he had the power. See what his sisters thought when he was in charge of their finances and their futures. Only Nia was truly safe from his future wrath.
He was dressed in a stark white shendyt, outlined in a shimmering gold. His long hair was carefully brushed smooth, the front parts tied behind his head to keep it from his face. Polished and shining, his leaf arm band stood out against the skin of his right upper arm, a band that was an exact copy of one that Nia also owned, a symbol of his bond with her.
He adorned himself with other bits of gold and jewels, enough to make him look the part of a Lord, but not so much it was obnoxious. As he stared at his reflection, he noted how different he looked. A man. No longer a boy.
With that, he left the room to make his way to the table for dinner. Arriving, he noted only his mother and Nia were there. He moved to take a seat beside Nia. Realistically he should be closer to the head of the table, to the right of where his father would normally sit.
Or at the head of the table himself, as he had briefly thought of doing, but he settled instead with Nia. She was the only reason he was even here after all.
Hena turned his gaze on his mother, no love in his eyes or his expression.
“Mother.” he greeted simply, before his attention turned to Nia.
“Nia, you look radiant as always.” He stated, his expression softening as he greeted his favourite person in the world.
Unbeknownst to Hena, his mother had invited his current lover to the dinner. He was not able to hide the surprise on his face as his attentions turned to the door only to see Ana walking in. He quickly wiped the expression from his face, but he was sure that Ana would have seen it.
She took a spot next to him, hand on his knee, and he turned just enough to cup her jaw with one hand and press a kiss to her lips. He couldn’t resist himself around her, not caring if his family was witness to the tender moment between the two.
"It was not I who invited you." He whispered to Ana, making sure only she would hear him. His hand dropped from her cheek.
And then Nef was coming into the room and the displeasure was clear in Hena’s gaze. There was no love lost between him and his siblings, but if there was one that he hated the most, Nef was certainly at the top of the list.
“Nice of you to join us, Nef.” Hena said, an attempted jab at his sister who spent her life kissing the asses of their parents, and who had coveted the attention that Hena had wished for in his youth. She would likely be unhappy that the two siblings who were normally considered unreliable had arrived at the dinner before she had.
Hena’s attention then turned to a slave who stood waiting in the corner, there to serve the family as needed.
“You. Wine. Now.” He demanded, motioning to himself, Nia and Ana. He could care less if his mother or other sister were served any.
Then once more, his attention turned to his mother.
“Will Nenet be joining us? Or has she finally perished in her room by herself?” He asked in a mocking tone. He was sure his sister would die happy if she did so in isolation with nothing but her books.
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A family dinner was the absolute last thing that Akhenaten wanted to attend. His family was not his family, not in his mind. By name and blood? Sure. But if it was his choice, every single one of them would be cut from the family lines.
It wasn’t his choice though. At least not yet.
It had been hard for him to accept his role as the new heir when it had first been announced, he had hated and dread it. But now? As more and more pieces were falling into place, Hena wasn’t against hurrying his father from his place as head of the house if it came to that. The power and title was becoming more appealing as Hena felt himself slowly changing into a man, grown beyond the simple years of the boy he had been not so long ago,
Today, he attended for one reason and one reason only. Nia. He would go because she would not want to be there on her own, left to deal with their parents and their sisters. It was a good thing that he loved her enough to do such a thing.
In his usual manner, Hena decked himself out in finery. If the family was going to gather, if he was going to be sniped at and judged by his family as usual, he was going to hold himself proud and tall. He would show them, when he had the power. See what his sisters thought when he was in charge of their finances and their futures. Only Nia was truly safe from his future wrath.
He was dressed in a stark white shendyt, outlined in a shimmering gold. His long hair was carefully brushed smooth, the front parts tied behind his head to keep it from his face. Polished and shining, his leaf arm band stood out against the skin of his right upper arm, a band that was an exact copy of one that Nia also owned, a symbol of his bond with her.
He adorned himself with other bits of gold and jewels, enough to make him look the part of a Lord, but not so much it was obnoxious. As he stared at his reflection, he noted how different he looked. A man. No longer a boy.
With that, he left the room to make his way to the table for dinner. Arriving, he noted only his mother and Nia were there. He moved to take a seat beside Nia. Realistically he should be closer to the head of the table, to the right of where his father would normally sit.
Or at the head of the table himself, as he had briefly thought of doing, but he settled instead with Nia. She was the only reason he was even here after all.
Hena turned his gaze on his mother, no love in his eyes or his expression.
“Mother.” he greeted simply, before his attention turned to Nia.
“Nia, you look radiant as always.” He stated, his expression softening as he greeted his favourite person in the world.
Unbeknownst to Hena, his mother had invited his current lover to the dinner. He was not able to hide the surprise on his face as his attentions turned to the door only to see Ana walking in. He quickly wiped the expression from his face, but he was sure that Ana would have seen it.
She took a spot next to him, hand on his knee, and he turned just enough to cup her jaw with one hand and press a kiss to her lips. He couldn’t resist himself around her, not caring if his family was witness to the tender moment between the two.
"It was not I who invited you." He whispered to Ana, making sure only she would hear him. His hand dropped from her cheek.
And then Nef was coming into the room and the displeasure was clear in Hena’s gaze. There was no love lost between him and his siblings, but if there was one that he hated the most, Nef was certainly at the top of the list.
“Nice of you to join us, Nef.” Hena said, an attempted jab at his sister who spent her life kissing the asses of their parents, and who had coveted the attention that Hena had wished for in his youth. She would likely be unhappy that the two siblings who were normally considered unreliable had arrived at the dinner before she had.
Hena’s attention then turned to a slave who stood waiting in the corner, there to serve the family as needed.
“You. Wine. Now.” He demanded, motioning to himself, Nia and Ana. He could care less if his mother or other sister were served any.
Then once more, his attention turned to his mother.
“Will Nenet be joining us? Or has she finally perished in her room by herself?” He asked in a mocking tone. He was sure his sister would die happy if she did so in isolation with nothing but her books.
A family dinner was the absolute last thing that Akhenaten wanted to attend. His family was not his family, not in his mind. By name and blood? Sure. But if it was his choice, every single one of them would be cut from the family lines.
It wasn’t his choice though. At least not yet.
It had been hard for him to accept his role as the new heir when it had first been announced, he had hated and dread it. But now? As more and more pieces were falling into place, Hena wasn’t against hurrying his father from his place as head of the house if it came to that. The power and title was becoming more appealing as Hena felt himself slowly changing into a man, grown beyond the simple years of the boy he had been not so long ago,
Today, he attended for one reason and one reason only. Nia. He would go because she would not want to be there on her own, left to deal with their parents and their sisters. It was a good thing that he loved her enough to do such a thing.
In his usual manner, Hena decked himself out in finery. If the family was going to gather, if he was going to be sniped at and judged by his family as usual, he was going to hold himself proud and tall. He would show them, when he had the power. See what his sisters thought when he was in charge of their finances and their futures. Only Nia was truly safe from his future wrath.
He was dressed in a stark white shendyt, outlined in a shimmering gold. His long hair was carefully brushed smooth, the front parts tied behind his head to keep it from his face. Polished and shining, his leaf arm band stood out against the skin of his right upper arm, a band that was an exact copy of one that Nia also owned, a symbol of his bond with her.
He adorned himself with other bits of gold and jewels, enough to make him look the part of a Lord, but not so much it was obnoxious. As he stared at his reflection, he noted how different he looked. A man. No longer a boy.
With that, he left the room to make his way to the table for dinner. Arriving, he noted only his mother and Nia were there. He moved to take a seat beside Nia. Realistically he should be closer to the head of the table, to the right of where his father would normally sit.
Or at the head of the table himself, as he had briefly thought of doing, but he settled instead with Nia. She was the only reason he was even here after all.
Hena turned his gaze on his mother, no love in his eyes or his expression.
“Mother.” he greeted simply, before his attention turned to Nia.
“Nia, you look radiant as always.” He stated, his expression softening as he greeted his favourite person in the world.
Unbeknownst to Hena, his mother had invited his current lover to the dinner. He was not able to hide the surprise on his face as his attentions turned to the door only to see Ana walking in. He quickly wiped the expression from his face, but he was sure that Ana would have seen it.
She took a spot next to him, hand on his knee, and he turned just enough to cup her jaw with one hand and press a kiss to her lips. He couldn’t resist himself around her, not caring if his family was witness to the tender moment between the two.
"It was not I who invited you." He whispered to Ana, making sure only she would hear him. His hand dropped from her cheek.
And then Nef was coming into the room and the displeasure was clear in Hena’s gaze. There was no love lost between him and his siblings, but if there was one that he hated the most, Nef was certainly at the top of the list.
“Nice of you to join us, Nef.” Hena said, an attempted jab at his sister who spent her life kissing the asses of their parents, and who had coveted the attention that Hena had wished for in his youth. She would likely be unhappy that the two siblings who were normally considered unreliable had arrived at the dinner before she had.
Hena’s attention then turned to a slave who stood waiting in the corner, there to serve the family as needed.
“You. Wine. Now.” He demanded, motioning to himself, Nia and Ana. He could care less if his mother or other sister were served any.
Then once more, his attention turned to his mother.
“Will Nenet be joining us? Or has she finally perished in her room by herself?” He asked in a mocking tone. He was sure his sister would die happy if she did so in isolation with nothing but her books.
The matriarch absorbed everything in her domain. She had dressed more casually than most seated and her heart ached for the days where they could gather informally, in work clothes and dusty feet, at a table meant for a bustling, joyous family. Recently, however, Iaheru found that this visage of a joyous family in the days preceding Sutekh’s banishment was a false hope. Everyone here most likely didn’t want to be here now, or, back then. To Neithotep, Iaheru offered a genuinely chuckle, “As if Gods are going to spare us from this.”
Where was Nenet? Probably with a nose in a book or fingers wrapped around a paintbrush or harp strings alike.
To Nefertaari, Iaheru offered a warmer smile, “It’s nice to see that you have returned from Thebes, Nef, I appreciate your presence here in Cairo.”
She observed Akhenaten and Anastasia, wondering if she had told him about their visit not too long ago. Iaheru assumed that the Fallen Star had, even if in passing, but there was an unease about the both of them that Iaheru perceived. And she had been wrong before even if she wouldn’t admit it. There was a curiosity behind keen eyes, wondering if Akhenaten had found love where it wasn’t supposed to flourish, as she did with Onuphrious years prior. Of course, there were duties expected of the young man, but duties were expected of a divergent Onuphrious and he married a barely aligned Iaheru.
The Sheifa empire grew with the complements of two immense forces, as Iaheru looked on shallowness and opulence, the mother determined that Hena and Anastasia would both likely squander the gains made in a lifetime. From the underworld, Iaheru hoped she’d never be free of machinations and notoriety. Lest she live forever, or fail to cross over, she would have to learn that patience Neithotep joked about, how to hand the reins over to the Gods and absolve herself of her family’s misgivings.
Nefertaari had taken to hash. Iaheru predicted the young woman would overindulge.
Where was Nenet?
“Isn't she lovely?” She nodded at her son, the wine being served by servants. They were sparse in the evening chill, a collection of braziers warming the night air and rendering light in the absence of Ra. “Akhenaten, I've not heard from you in some time. Do tell me about life as heir?” Anyone would be able to tell that Iaheru did not mean this seriously, merely saying so to get under her son's skin the way he did hers. Iaheru took a gulp of her wine, reminding herself that she needed to restrain her consumption tonight of all nights, lest hot tempers come to boil and ruin dinner in a fit of steam and smoke.
"Nenet will make her way," she glowered at Akhenaten, biting back a childish inclination to laugh. "I don't wait for trifling." Iaheru snapped loudly, uncharacteristic of a woman that knew the pains of being a retainer and a servant to nobles. "Serve the first course. I'm famished."
"What of everyone?" Iaheru leaned back in her chair as she sent the servants bustling for food. "I'm terribly disjointed with all of my children scattered from Cairo to Thebes."
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The matriarch absorbed everything in her domain. She had dressed more casually than most seated and her heart ached for the days where they could gather informally, in work clothes and dusty feet, at a table meant for a bustling, joyous family. Recently, however, Iaheru found that this visage of a joyous family in the days preceding Sutekh’s banishment was a false hope. Everyone here most likely didn’t want to be here now, or, back then. To Neithotep, Iaheru offered a genuinely chuckle, “As if Gods are going to spare us from this.”
Where was Nenet? Probably with a nose in a book or fingers wrapped around a paintbrush or harp strings alike.
To Nefertaari, Iaheru offered a warmer smile, “It’s nice to see that you have returned from Thebes, Nef, I appreciate your presence here in Cairo.”
She observed Akhenaten and Anastasia, wondering if she had told him about their visit not too long ago. Iaheru assumed that the Fallen Star had, even if in passing, but there was an unease about the both of them that Iaheru perceived. And she had been wrong before even if she wouldn’t admit it. There was a curiosity behind keen eyes, wondering if Akhenaten had found love where it wasn’t supposed to flourish, as she did with Onuphrious years prior. Of course, there were duties expected of the young man, but duties were expected of a divergent Onuphrious and he married a barely aligned Iaheru.
The Sheifa empire grew with the complements of two immense forces, as Iaheru looked on shallowness and opulence, the mother determined that Hena and Anastasia would both likely squander the gains made in a lifetime. From the underworld, Iaheru hoped she’d never be free of machinations and notoriety. Lest she live forever, or fail to cross over, she would have to learn that patience Neithotep joked about, how to hand the reins over to the Gods and absolve herself of her family’s misgivings.
Nefertaari had taken to hash. Iaheru predicted the young woman would overindulge.
Where was Nenet?
“Isn't she lovely?” She nodded at her son, the wine being served by servants. They were sparse in the evening chill, a collection of braziers warming the night air and rendering light in the absence of Ra. “Akhenaten, I've not heard from you in some time. Do tell me about life as heir?” Anyone would be able to tell that Iaheru did not mean this seriously, merely saying so to get under her son's skin the way he did hers. Iaheru took a gulp of her wine, reminding herself that she needed to restrain her consumption tonight of all nights, lest hot tempers come to boil and ruin dinner in a fit of steam and smoke.
"Nenet will make her way," she glowered at Akhenaten, biting back a childish inclination to laugh. "I don't wait for trifling." Iaheru snapped loudly, uncharacteristic of a woman that knew the pains of being a retainer and a servant to nobles. "Serve the first course. I'm famished."
"What of everyone?" Iaheru leaned back in her chair as she sent the servants bustling for food. "I'm terribly disjointed with all of my children scattered from Cairo to Thebes."
The matriarch absorbed everything in her domain. She had dressed more casually than most seated and her heart ached for the days where they could gather informally, in work clothes and dusty feet, at a table meant for a bustling, joyous family. Recently, however, Iaheru found that this visage of a joyous family in the days preceding Sutekh’s banishment was a false hope. Everyone here most likely didn’t want to be here now, or, back then. To Neithotep, Iaheru offered a genuinely chuckle, “As if Gods are going to spare us from this.”
Where was Nenet? Probably with a nose in a book or fingers wrapped around a paintbrush or harp strings alike.
To Nefertaari, Iaheru offered a warmer smile, “It’s nice to see that you have returned from Thebes, Nef, I appreciate your presence here in Cairo.”
She observed Akhenaten and Anastasia, wondering if she had told him about their visit not too long ago. Iaheru assumed that the Fallen Star had, even if in passing, but there was an unease about the both of them that Iaheru perceived. And she had been wrong before even if she wouldn’t admit it. There was a curiosity behind keen eyes, wondering if Akhenaten had found love where it wasn’t supposed to flourish, as she did with Onuphrious years prior. Of course, there were duties expected of the young man, but duties were expected of a divergent Onuphrious and he married a barely aligned Iaheru.
The Sheifa empire grew with the complements of two immense forces, as Iaheru looked on shallowness and opulence, the mother determined that Hena and Anastasia would both likely squander the gains made in a lifetime. From the underworld, Iaheru hoped she’d never be free of machinations and notoriety. Lest she live forever, or fail to cross over, she would have to learn that patience Neithotep joked about, how to hand the reins over to the Gods and absolve herself of her family’s misgivings.
Nefertaari had taken to hash. Iaheru predicted the young woman would overindulge.
Where was Nenet?
“Isn't she lovely?” She nodded at her son, the wine being served by servants. They were sparse in the evening chill, a collection of braziers warming the night air and rendering light in the absence of Ra. “Akhenaten, I've not heard from you in some time. Do tell me about life as heir?” Anyone would be able to tell that Iaheru did not mean this seriously, merely saying so to get under her son's skin the way he did hers. Iaheru took a gulp of her wine, reminding herself that she needed to restrain her consumption tonight of all nights, lest hot tempers come to boil and ruin dinner in a fit of steam and smoke.
"Nenet will make her way," she glowered at Akhenaten, biting back a childish inclination to laugh. "I don't wait for trifling." Iaheru snapped loudly, uncharacteristic of a woman that knew the pains of being a retainer and a servant to nobles. "Serve the first course. I'm famished."
"What of everyone?" Iaheru leaned back in her chair as she sent the servants bustling for food. "I'm terribly disjointed with all of my children scattered from Cairo to Thebes."
“Will Nenet be joining us? Or has she finally perished in her room by herself?” Akhenaten’s words carried down the hall where Nenet was walking up towards the doorway of the dining room. She stopped and listened, arms hugging the book she’d been reading to her chest. It’d be so much nicer if he perished, that spiteful, hateful brat. He and Nia both, with those chips on their shoulders as though they had anything to be terribly offended about. Deep down, Nenet didn’t hate them but she wouldn’t have chosen to be friends with either one of them. They were mean and she usually went out of her way to avoid all of her siblings - except Sutekh. He who was all care and sweetness to her. She felt his loss in the family more keenly than anyone and she wished he was here now.
Well. She’d invited someone who was nice and cultured and clearly cut from better cloth than anyone in that room, save her mother. Khufu would be a life saver, she was sure. He didn’t seem to have these stupid prejudices that the Sheifas suffered from. It was like a plague in the house - all the hatred fostered and nurtured there.
Drawing closer, she kept out of sight, listening for someone to answer Hena’s acidic question.
“Nenet will make her way,” her mother said. Nenet smirked. There. Someone knew. And then, in a remark that Nenet assumed was meant about her, Iaheru added, “I don't wait for trifling.” Nenet’s jaw tightened and her smirk twisted into an altogether unhappy expression. Her feet didn’t move her forward, even when her mother called for the first course to be served. She hung back, pretty sure that she could probably stay up in her room and no one would come get her to make her come down. In fact, she was on the point of skipping the entire meal but the thought of Khufu coming and having to sit in a room of strangers without her was...not kind.
She set her jaw, tightened her arms around her book, and stepped into the room just as her mother was asking everyone how they were and sounding nearly remorseful that they were all hither and thither through Egypt. Without a word, Nenet plopped down on Ana’s other side, barely sparing Hena’s embarrassing mistress a look. She didn’t look at anyone else, either. They’d proved they weren’t worth looking at. Best thing to do was wait for Khufu so she’d have someone to speak to while the rest got up to whatever it was they were doing.
Servants flitted to and fro, bearing dishes and swaying in and out among the chairs so that the diners could serve themselves from the trays before it was whisked away. Primly as you please, she served herself any number of things and set to eating, her eyes on the doorway Khufu would come through, more often than they were anywhere else.
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“Will Nenet be joining us? Or has she finally perished in her room by herself?” Akhenaten’s words carried down the hall where Nenet was walking up towards the doorway of the dining room. She stopped and listened, arms hugging the book she’d been reading to her chest. It’d be so much nicer if he perished, that spiteful, hateful brat. He and Nia both, with those chips on their shoulders as though they had anything to be terribly offended about. Deep down, Nenet didn’t hate them but she wouldn’t have chosen to be friends with either one of them. They were mean and she usually went out of her way to avoid all of her siblings - except Sutekh. He who was all care and sweetness to her. She felt his loss in the family more keenly than anyone and she wished he was here now.
Well. She’d invited someone who was nice and cultured and clearly cut from better cloth than anyone in that room, save her mother. Khufu would be a life saver, she was sure. He didn’t seem to have these stupid prejudices that the Sheifas suffered from. It was like a plague in the house - all the hatred fostered and nurtured there.
Drawing closer, she kept out of sight, listening for someone to answer Hena’s acidic question.
“Nenet will make her way,” her mother said. Nenet smirked. There. Someone knew. And then, in a remark that Nenet assumed was meant about her, Iaheru added, “I don't wait for trifling.” Nenet’s jaw tightened and her smirk twisted into an altogether unhappy expression. Her feet didn’t move her forward, even when her mother called for the first course to be served. She hung back, pretty sure that she could probably stay up in her room and no one would come get her to make her come down. In fact, she was on the point of skipping the entire meal but the thought of Khufu coming and having to sit in a room of strangers without her was...not kind.
She set her jaw, tightened her arms around her book, and stepped into the room just as her mother was asking everyone how they were and sounding nearly remorseful that they were all hither and thither through Egypt. Without a word, Nenet plopped down on Ana’s other side, barely sparing Hena’s embarrassing mistress a look. She didn’t look at anyone else, either. They’d proved they weren’t worth looking at. Best thing to do was wait for Khufu so she’d have someone to speak to while the rest got up to whatever it was they were doing.
Servants flitted to and fro, bearing dishes and swaying in and out among the chairs so that the diners could serve themselves from the trays before it was whisked away. Primly as you please, she served herself any number of things and set to eating, her eyes on the doorway Khufu would come through, more often than they were anywhere else.
“Will Nenet be joining us? Or has she finally perished in her room by herself?” Akhenaten’s words carried down the hall where Nenet was walking up towards the doorway of the dining room. She stopped and listened, arms hugging the book she’d been reading to her chest. It’d be so much nicer if he perished, that spiteful, hateful brat. He and Nia both, with those chips on their shoulders as though they had anything to be terribly offended about. Deep down, Nenet didn’t hate them but she wouldn’t have chosen to be friends with either one of them. They were mean and she usually went out of her way to avoid all of her siblings - except Sutekh. He who was all care and sweetness to her. She felt his loss in the family more keenly than anyone and she wished he was here now.
Well. She’d invited someone who was nice and cultured and clearly cut from better cloth than anyone in that room, save her mother. Khufu would be a life saver, she was sure. He didn’t seem to have these stupid prejudices that the Sheifas suffered from. It was like a plague in the house - all the hatred fostered and nurtured there.
Drawing closer, she kept out of sight, listening for someone to answer Hena’s acidic question.
“Nenet will make her way,” her mother said. Nenet smirked. There. Someone knew. And then, in a remark that Nenet assumed was meant about her, Iaheru added, “I don't wait for trifling.” Nenet’s jaw tightened and her smirk twisted into an altogether unhappy expression. Her feet didn’t move her forward, even when her mother called for the first course to be served. She hung back, pretty sure that she could probably stay up in her room and no one would come get her to make her come down. In fact, she was on the point of skipping the entire meal but the thought of Khufu coming and having to sit in a room of strangers without her was...not kind.
She set her jaw, tightened her arms around her book, and stepped into the room just as her mother was asking everyone how they were and sounding nearly remorseful that they were all hither and thither through Egypt. Without a word, Nenet plopped down on Ana’s other side, barely sparing Hena’s embarrassing mistress a look. She didn’t look at anyone else, either. They’d proved they weren’t worth looking at. Best thing to do was wait for Khufu so she’d have someone to speak to while the rest got up to whatever it was they were doing.
Servants flitted to and fro, bearing dishes and swaying in and out among the chairs so that the diners could serve themselves from the trays before it was whisked away. Primly as you please, she served herself any number of things and set to eating, her eyes on the doorway Khufu would come through, more often than they were anywhere else.
Nia spared a smile for the approach of her brother, her face softening as his did when he seated himself beside her. Thank the gods that at least he would be here; if she must suffer the rest of her family’s presence, she was grateful for a buffer. She was sure it would devolve into various sides taking digs at the other, but she could rest assured knowing she would not be on her side alone.
“Hena. You’re looking fantastic, as well. So handsome.” When he sat, she reached to take his arm, briefly laying her head on his shoulder. “Amazing you haven’t snagged yourself a wife already, looking like that,” she teased, knowing full well his feelings on marriage, so similar as they were to hers.
As if summoned by her statement, it was then her brother’s Grecian mistress arrived, head held high and striding in as if she belonged here. What in the world? What was she doing here? Wasn’t this a family dinner? Since when were mistresses considered family?
For Hena’s sake, though, she didn’t say anything, only sat up straight again and offered the woman a polite nod. If her brother wanted the woman around, she supposed that was all right. But she wasn’t going to go out of her way to welcome her, either, not after she had disappeared that disastrous day of the jewel sale in Thebes. She had not won herself any favor that fateful afternoon, that was for sure. As far as Nia was concerned, Hena could do much better. Maybe someone would wouldn’t abandon him at the first sign of danger.
Once Anastasia was settled, the next to arrive was her eldest sister, Nefertaari, as predictably venomous as ever. Nia suppressed a sigh and simply shook her head; it seemed their brief amity of several nights prior was not set to last. Then again, she hadn’t really expected it would. Nef had probably just been high.
“Nefertaari,” she greeted her sister with a nod as coolly polite as the one she had shown Anastasia. “Always wonderful to see you.” Her voice held the same sarcasm as her sister’s, though without quite as much of the venom. Truthfully, she was just too tired to let the eldest Sheifa child needle her. “Is that a new gown? It really serves to bring out the gorgeous mud tones in your eyes.” Okay, maybe she still had a little fire in her tonight, after all.
Gratefully taking the glass of wine one of the slaves handed her, she smiled in thanks and took a long swallow. This was already going so well, about as well as any of them might have expected. Hena was sniping at Iaheru and Nef, and their mother was sniping right back. The first course was being served, and Nenet was late, though at least she had the grace to remain silent. Well, maybe it wasn’t grace so much as ability.
“Isn’t this nice?” she said as the first plate of food was put in front of her, tearing off a piece of flatbread and stuffing it into her mouth. She glanced around the table with her eyebrow raised, her tone dry as she went on, “All the Sheifa siblings together in one place, and nothing’s even on fire yet. Anyone want to place bets on how long that will take?”
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Nia spared a smile for the approach of her brother, her face softening as his did when he seated himself beside her. Thank the gods that at least he would be here; if she must suffer the rest of her family’s presence, she was grateful for a buffer. She was sure it would devolve into various sides taking digs at the other, but she could rest assured knowing she would not be on her side alone.
“Hena. You’re looking fantastic, as well. So handsome.” When he sat, she reached to take his arm, briefly laying her head on his shoulder. “Amazing you haven’t snagged yourself a wife already, looking like that,” she teased, knowing full well his feelings on marriage, so similar as they were to hers.
As if summoned by her statement, it was then her brother’s Grecian mistress arrived, head held high and striding in as if she belonged here. What in the world? What was she doing here? Wasn’t this a family dinner? Since when were mistresses considered family?
For Hena’s sake, though, she didn’t say anything, only sat up straight again and offered the woman a polite nod. If her brother wanted the woman around, she supposed that was all right. But she wasn’t going to go out of her way to welcome her, either, not after she had disappeared that disastrous day of the jewel sale in Thebes. She had not won herself any favor that fateful afternoon, that was for sure. As far as Nia was concerned, Hena could do much better. Maybe someone would wouldn’t abandon him at the first sign of danger.
Once Anastasia was settled, the next to arrive was her eldest sister, Nefertaari, as predictably venomous as ever. Nia suppressed a sigh and simply shook her head; it seemed their brief amity of several nights prior was not set to last. Then again, she hadn’t really expected it would. Nef had probably just been high.
“Nefertaari,” she greeted her sister with a nod as coolly polite as the one she had shown Anastasia. “Always wonderful to see you.” Her voice held the same sarcasm as her sister’s, though without quite as much of the venom. Truthfully, she was just too tired to let the eldest Sheifa child needle her. “Is that a new gown? It really serves to bring out the gorgeous mud tones in your eyes.” Okay, maybe she still had a little fire in her tonight, after all.
Gratefully taking the glass of wine one of the slaves handed her, she smiled in thanks and took a long swallow. This was already going so well, about as well as any of them might have expected. Hena was sniping at Iaheru and Nef, and their mother was sniping right back. The first course was being served, and Nenet was late, though at least she had the grace to remain silent. Well, maybe it wasn’t grace so much as ability.
“Isn’t this nice?” she said as the first plate of food was put in front of her, tearing off a piece of flatbread and stuffing it into her mouth. She glanced around the table with her eyebrow raised, her tone dry as she went on, “All the Sheifa siblings together in one place, and nothing’s even on fire yet. Anyone want to place bets on how long that will take?”
Nia spared a smile for the approach of her brother, her face softening as his did when he seated himself beside her. Thank the gods that at least he would be here; if she must suffer the rest of her family’s presence, she was grateful for a buffer. She was sure it would devolve into various sides taking digs at the other, but she could rest assured knowing she would not be on her side alone.
“Hena. You’re looking fantastic, as well. So handsome.” When he sat, she reached to take his arm, briefly laying her head on his shoulder. “Amazing you haven’t snagged yourself a wife already, looking like that,” she teased, knowing full well his feelings on marriage, so similar as they were to hers.
As if summoned by her statement, it was then her brother’s Grecian mistress arrived, head held high and striding in as if she belonged here. What in the world? What was she doing here? Wasn’t this a family dinner? Since when were mistresses considered family?
For Hena’s sake, though, she didn’t say anything, only sat up straight again and offered the woman a polite nod. If her brother wanted the woman around, she supposed that was all right. But she wasn’t going to go out of her way to welcome her, either, not after she had disappeared that disastrous day of the jewel sale in Thebes. She had not won herself any favor that fateful afternoon, that was for sure. As far as Nia was concerned, Hena could do much better. Maybe someone would wouldn’t abandon him at the first sign of danger.
Once Anastasia was settled, the next to arrive was her eldest sister, Nefertaari, as predictably venomous as ever. Nia suppressed a sigh and simply shook her head; it seemed their brief amity of several nights prior was not set to last. Then again, she hadn’t really expected it would. Nef had probably just been high.
“Nefertaari,” she greeted her sister with a nod as coolly polite as the one she had shown Anastasia. “Always wonderful to see you.” Her voice held the same sarcasm as her sister’s, though without quite as much of the venom. Truthfully, she was just too tired to let the eldest Sheifa child needle her. “Is that a new gown? It really serves to bring out the gorgeous mud tones in your eyes.” Okay, maybe she still had a little fire in her tonight, after all.
Gratefully taking the glass of wine one of the slaves handed her, she smiled in thanks and took a long swallow. This was already going so well, about as well as any of them might have expected. Hena was sniping at Iaheru and Nef, and their mother was sniping right back. The first course was being served, and Nenet was late, though at least she had the grace to remain silent. Well, maybe it wasn’t grace so much as ability.
“Isn’t this nice?” she said as the first plate of food was put in front of her, tearing off a piece of flatbread and stuffing it into her mouth. She glanced around the table with her eyebrow raised, her tone dry as she went on, “All the Sheifa siblings together in one place, and nothing’s even on fire yet. Anyone want to place bets on how long that will take?”
Khufu didn’t want to go to this... dinner. He had no desire to spend an evening with the Sheifa household. He was long time friends with the head of the house, and he loved the man greatly. He was also friends for a couple of years with one of his daughters. But the invite had oddly come from the Sheifa he had just met. Nenet.
Why did she want him at this dinner? He had no real idea, but he had failed to come up with a good reason to say no. They were nobles after all, and on top of that he wanted to keep Nenet appeased lest she decide to try and get her book back from him or something. Their deal wasn’t exactly official, and he didn’t doubt that if she claimed he had taken the book without asking her or something along those lines, people would believe her over him.
So, he had bathed, put on his best clothes and actually combed his hair back for once. He even went so far as to shave his stubble, leaving his moustache neatly groomed. His wife commented that he didn’t even look that good when they had gotten married.
Khufu kissed his kids good night and bade his wife goodbye before he set out towards the H’Sheifa house. His heart was racing, worried that something was going to go wrong. From what he knew of the family, it was very likely that there was going to be something going wrong.
He hadn’t realized he was running a little late, having spent too much time making himself presentable. He cursed under his breath as he reached the front door and announced himself. The guards let him in and escorted him to the dining room where everyone was already seated.
He tried to walk in with as much confidence as possible, but the scholar was not used to this sort of thing. How he wished he was drunk at the moment, but he thought it best to be sober. Less of a chance to make an idiot out of himself. Or so he hoped.
When he entered, he noticed the matriarch at one end of the table, to her right sat Nia, Khufu gave her a small smirk, beside her was a young man he thought to be the only remaining legitimate Sheifa son. Beside him though, was someone he didn’t recognize. A Greek? Strange. At least he wasn’t the only dinner guest.
Beside the Greek woman sat Nenet, and he gave her a small, awkward smile.
To Iaheru’s left sat what he could only assume was the only H’Sheifa daughter he did not know at this point.
He cleared his throat a little, figuring he should introduce himself.
“Apologies for my lateness, my Lord, my Ladies.” He said, giving them a small bow, already feeling completely awkward.
“Ah... Khufu of Benin. I am here at the invitation of Lady Nenet.” He said, assuming that was good enough, so he pulled out the chair across from Nenet and took his seat, hoping his presence would hardly be noted and he could sit there until it was appropriate for him to take his leave.
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Khufu didn’t want to go to this... dinner. He had no desire to spend an evening with the Sheifa household. He was long time friends with the head of the house, and he loved the man greatly. He was also friends for a couple of years with one of his daughters. But the invite had oddly come from the Sheifa he had just met. Nenet.
Why did she want him at this dinner? He had no real idea, but he had failed to come up with a good reason to say no. They were nobles after all, and on top of that he wanted to keep Nenet appeased lest she decide to try and get her book back from him or something. Their deal wasn’t exactly official, and he didn’t doubt that if she claimed he had taken the book without asking her or something along those lines, people would believe her over him.
So, he had bathed, put on his best clothes and actually combed his hair back for once. He even went so far as to shave his stubble, leaving his moustache neatly groomed. His wife commented that he didn’t even look that good when they had gotten married.
Khufu kissed his kids good night and bade his wife goodbye before he set out towards the H’Sheifa house. His heart was racing, worried that something was going to go wrong. From what he knew of the family, it was very likely that there was going to be something going wrong.
He hadn’t realized he was running a little late, having spent too much time making himself presentable. He cursed under his breath as he reached the front door and announced himself. The guards let him in and escorted him to the dining room where everyone was already seated.
He tried to walk in with as much confidence as possible, but the scholar was not used to this sort of thing. How he wished he was drunk at the moment, but he thought it best to be sober. Less of a chance to make an idiot out of himself. Or so he hoped.
When he entered, he noticed the matriarch at one end of the table, to her right sat Nia, Khufu gave her a small smirk, beside her was a young man he thought to be the only remaining legitimate Sheifa son. Beside him though, was someone he didn’t recognize. A Greek? Strange. At least he wasn’t the only dinner guest.
Beside the Greek woman sat Nenet, and he gave her a small, awkward smile.
To Iaheru’s left sat what he could only assume was the only H’Sheifa daughter he did not know at this point.
He cleared his throat a little, figuring he should introduce himself.
“Apologies for my lateness, my Lord, my Ladies.” He said, giving them a small bow, already feeling completely awkward.
“Ah... Khufu of Benin. I am here at the invitation of Lady Nenet.” He said, assuming that was good enough, so he pulled out the chair across from Nenet and took his seat, hoping his presence would hardly be noted and he could sit there until it was appropriate for him to take his leave.
Khufu didn’t want to go to this... dinner. He had no desire to spend an evening with the Sheifa household. He was long time friends with the head of the house, and he loved the man greatly. He was also friends for a couple of years with one of his daughters. But the invite had oddly come from the Sheifa he had just met. Nenet.
Why did she want him at this dinner? He had no real idea, but he had failed to come up with a good reason to say no. They were nobles after all, and on top of that he wanted to keep Nenet appeased lest she decide to try and get her book back from him or something. Their deal wasn’t exactly official, and he didn’t doubt that if she claimed he had taken the book without asking her or something along those lines, people would believe her over him.
So, he had bathed, put on his best clothes and actually combed his hair back for once. He even went so far as to shave his stubble, leaving his moustache neatly groomed. His wife commented that he didn’t even look that good when they had gotten married.
Khufu kissed his kids good night and bade his wife goodbye before he set out towards the H’Sheifa house. His heart was racing, worried that something was going to go wrong. From what he knew of the family, it was very likely that there was going to be something going wrong.
He hadn’t realized he was running a little late, having spent too much time making himself presentable. He cursed under his breath as he reached the front door and announced himself. The guards let him in and escorted him to the dining room where everyone was already seated.
He tried to walk in with as much confidence as possible, but the scholar was not used to this sort of thing. How he wished he was drunk at the moment, but he thought it best to be sober. Less of a chance to make an idiot out of himself. Or so he hoped.
When he entered, he noticed the matriarch at one end of the table, to her right sat Nia, Khufu gave her a small smirk, beside her was a young man he thought to be the only remaining legitimate Sheifa son. Beside him though, was someone he didn’t recognize. A Greek? Strange. At least he wasn’t the only dinner guest.
Beside the Greek woman sat Nenet, and he gave her a small, awkward smile.
To Iaheru’s left sat what he could only assume was the only H’Sheifa daughter he did not know at this point.
He cleared his throat a little, figuring he should introduce himself.
“Apologies for my lateness, my Lord, my Ladies.” He said, giving them a small bow, already feeling completely awkward.
“Ah... Khufu of Benin. I am here at the invitation of Lady Nenet.” He said, assuming that was good enough, so he pulled out the chair across from Nenet and took his seat, hoping his presence would hardly be noted and he could sit there until it was appropriate for him to take his leave.
Nefertaari was always a bit mercurial when it came to how she treated her siblings, and that probably did not help her any when it came to her relationships with them. For Neithotep, their last encounter a few nights prior was still very much in the forefront of her mind. Her outward hostility at that moment was little more than a show.
And yet, she did not seem too keen on maintaining the display. Instead, she regarded Akhenaten with calm thoughtfulness, his jab striking a nerve. She knew better than to think anyone other than her parents was ever happy to see her. Perhaps it was the loneliness that came with being such a bitch to everyone around her, but Nefertaari felt a dark cloud settling over her mind. The war with Greece meant she was home far more often than she wanted to be, and home became far more of a prison when you felt you were being held there against your will.
Being confined to houses where her siblings resided as well worsened that feeling. Her jaw tensed, teeth clenching hard against one another. Her lack of punctuality this evening was an extremely rare occurrence. Hena’s quickness to point it out was unusual.
“So it is,” Nefertaari remarked, more to herself than to him. Neithotep spoke a moment later and the elder sister’s heart skipped a panicked beat. Had her slave forgotten to apply her kohl?
Under most circumstances, she would know the answer to that thought. Though she certainly often indulged in various ways, it rarely interfered with her productivity. At least, not until more recently. She’d taken to rarely leaving her room, and when she wasn’t seen for days, it was a toss-up whether she was in Cairo or Thebes, and whether she was holed up in her room or not—a strangely Nenet-like habit beginning to form.
Ire simmered in her dark gaze as she regarded Neithotep, but she made no attempt at defending herself from the insult. The gods knew Nefertaari had insulted her siblings enough over the years. Her mouth finally opened, but whatever she was going to say was to Nia was lost when Nenet arrived.
Rather than respond to her siblings, Nefertaari reached for her own wine and took a gulp (or three) from it. What she would not give to be travelling right now, rather than sitting here.Iaheru's query to Akhenaten drew her attention.
"She's exceptionally so," Nefertaari agreed, her gaze returning to Ana. It was rare for Nefertaari to compliment anyone, let someone brought home by the younger Sheifas. As she waited for his reply regarding his ascension to family heir, she saw Khufu enter the room. She appeared surprised to see him, especially considering her father was not in attendance.
“A pleasant surprise,” Nefertaari greeted earnestly.
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Nefertaari was always a bit mercurial when it came to how she treated her siblings, and that probably did not help her any when it came to her relationships with them. For Neithotep, their last encounter a few nights prior was still very much in the forefront of her mind. Her outward hostility at that moment was little more than a show.
And yet, she did not seem too keen on maintaining the display. Instead, she regarded Akhenaten with calm thoughtfulness, his jab striking a nerve. She knew better than to think anyone other than her parents was ever happy to see her. Perhaps it was the loneliness that came with being such a bitch to everyone around her, but Nefertaari felt a dark cloud settling over her mind. The war with Greece meant she was home far more often than she wanted to be, and home became far more of a prison when you felt you were being held there against your will.
Being confined to houses where her siblings resided as well worsened that feeling. Her jaw tensed, teeth clenching hard against one another. Her lack of punctuality this evening was an extremely rare occurrence. Hena’s quickness to point it out was unusual.
“So it is,” Nefertaari remarked, more to herself than to him. Neithotep spoke a moment later and the elder sister’s heart skipped a panicked beat. Had her slave forgotten to apply her kohl?
Under most circumstances, she would know the answer to that thought. Though she certainly often indulged in various ways, it rarely interfered with her productivity. At least, not until more recently. She’d taken to rarely leaving her room, and when she wasn’t seen for days, it was a toss-up whether she was in Cairo or Thebes, and whether she was holed up in her room or not—a strangely Nenet-like habit beginning to form.
Ire simmered in her dark gaze as she regarded Neithotep, but she made no attempt at defending herself from the insult. The gods knew Nefertaari had insulted her siblings enough over the years. Her mouth finally opened, but whatever she was going to say was to Nia was lost when Nenet arrived.
Rather than respond to her siblings, Nefertaari reached for her own wine and took a gulp (or three) from it. What she would not give to be travelling right now, rather than sitting here.Iaheru's query to Akhenaten drew her attention.
"She's exceptionally so," Nefertaari agreed, her gaze returning to Ana. It was rare for Nefertaari to compliment anyone, let someone brought home by the younger Sheifas. As she waited for his reply regarding his ascension to family heir, she saw Khufu enter the room. She appeared surprised to see him, especially considering her father was not in attendance.
“A pleasant surprise,” Nefertaari greeted earnestly.
Nefertaari was always a bit mercurial when it came to how she treated her siblings, and that probably did not help her any when it came to her relationships with them. For Neithotep, their last encounter a few nights prior was still very much in the forefront of her mind. Her outward hostility at that moment was little more than a show.
And yet, she did not seem too keen on maintaining the display. Instead, she regarded Akhenaten with calm thoughtfulness, his jab striking a nerve. She knew better than to think anyone other than her parents was ever happy to see her. Perhaps it was the loneliness that came with being such a bitch to everyone around her, but Nefertaari felt a dark cloud settling over her mind. The war with Greece meant she was home far more often than she wanted to be, and home became far more of a prison when you felt you were being held there against your will.
Being confined to houses where her siblings resided as well worsened that feeling. Her jaw tensed, teeth clenching hard against one another. Her lack of punctuality this evening was an extremely rare occurrence. Hena’s quickness to point it out was unusual.
“So it is,” Nefertaari remarked, more to herself than to him. Neithotep spoke a moment later and the elder sister’s heart skipped a panicked beat. Had her slave forgotten to apply her kohl?
Under most circumstances, she would know the answer to that thought. Though she certainly often indulged in various ways, it rarely interfered with her productivity. At least, not until more recently. She’d taken to rarely leaving her room, and when she wasn’t seen for days, it was a toss-up whether she was in Cairo or Thebes, and whether she was holed up in her room or not—a strangely Nenet-like habit beginning to form.
Ire simmered in her dark gaze as she regarded Neithotep, but she made no attempt at defending herself from the insult. The gods knew Nefertaari had insulted her siblings enough over the years. Her mouth finally opened, but whatever she was going to say was to Nia was lost when Nenet arrived.
Rather than respond to her siblings, Nefertaari reached for her own wine and took a gulp (or three) from it. What she would not give to be travelling right now, rather than sitting here.Iaheru's query to Akhenaten drew her attention.
"She's exceptionally so," Nefertaari agreed, her gaze returning to Ana. It was rare for Nefertaari to compliment anyone, let someone brought home by the younger Sheifas. As she waited for his reply regarding his ascension to family heir, she saw Khufu enter the room. She appeared surprised to see him, especially considering her father was not in attendance.
“A pleasant surprise,” Nefertaari greeted earnestly.
As soon as Nenet walked in, Iaheru felt a pang of guilt for the harsher words she had said prior. Her youngest daughter’s proclivities softened Iaheru’s steely heart. Whereas her other children could bear the brunt of her coolest asides, the youngest woman could not, Iaheru debated on whether she would say something nice to Nenet, whether that would be appropriate or grossly unfair.
In the spirit of her mother, Neithotep was also guilty of throwing out, albeit, warmer chidings and negative quips. It was good to see that the young woman still retained bits of herself through the horrors she bore at night. Iaheru couldn’t boast the same feats, long ago she had turned icy and exacting in the face of her trauma. It was a good thing that this transformation happened early on in her family’s existence, lest her children be forced to cope with Iaheru’s duality. “Welcome,” her lips curled into a polite, but confused smile. Iaheru knew of everyone of stature in Egypt, but this one evaded her. At least he was dressed for the part, if a bit old for Nenet to traipse around with, and then the thought hit her. Was Nenet indeed traipsing around with such an older man.
Such was not unheard of in Egypt, but Iaheru had never seen her youngest daughter in that light. Forever infantilized not only by disability but by personal presentation, the mother wondered if she had missed something in the same way she missed bruises and scars on her older daughter, Neithotep. There was simply no way she could bear another daughter succumbing to the whims of evil men. “Tell me, Khufu of Benin, how are you acquainted with my family? I’m afraid that other than this gathering, we’ve been rather disjointed these past few months.”
Certainly, he would know what disjointment she was referring to.
Iaheru frowned at Neithotep’s compliment to Nefertari. If only she had pushed Narmer towards her eldest rather than her most beautiful and notorious. After all, tradition bidded that Nefertari be married first, and by Gods, it was high time for it at her age. However, marriage was never something she pushed onto her children, how disastrous it had been the one time she lightly encouraged it. “I suppose that means I have to afford Nefertari your allotment next week so she can be fitted for a more flattering garment,” the matriarch bantered, still waiting for her son’s reply and the bizarre feeling in her stomach to dissipate. It was the family she bore but the gathering felt so foreign to her she swore the soul was sucked out of her body and transplanted to the skies above.
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As soon as Nenet walked in, Iaheru felt a pang of guilt for the harsher words she had said prior. Her youngest daughter’s proclivities softened Iaheru’s steely heart. Whereas her other children could bear the brunt of her coolest asides, the youngest woman could not, Iaheru debated on whether she would say something nice to Nenet, whether that would be appropriate or grossly unfair.
In the spirit of her mother, Neithotep was also guilty of throwing out, albeit, warmer chidings and negative quips. It was good to see that the young woman still retained bits of herself through the horrors she bore at night. Iaheru couldn’t boast the same feats, long ago she had turned icy and exacting in the face of her trauma. It was a good thing that this transformation happened early on in her family’s existence, lest her children be forced to cope with Iaheru’s duality. “Welcome,” her lips curled into a polite, but confused smile. Iaheru knew of everyone of stature in Egypt, but this one evaded her. At least he was dressed for the part, if a bit old for Nenet to traipse around with, and then the thought hit her. Was Nenet indeed traipsing around with such an older man.
Such was not unheard of in Egypt, but Iaheru had never seen her youngest daughter in that light. Forever infantilized not only by disability but by personal presentation, the mother wondered if she had missed something in the same way she missed bruises and scars on her older daughter, Neithotep. There was simply no way she could bear another daughter succumbing to the whims of evil men. “Tell me, Khufu of Benin, how are you acquainted with my family? I’m afraid that other than this gathering, we’ve been rather disjointed these past few months.”
Certainly, he would know what disjointment she was referring to.
Iaheru frowned at Neithotep’s compliment to Nefertari. If only she had pushed Narmer towards her eldest rather than her most beautiful and notorious. After all, tradition bidded that Nefertari be married first, and by Gods, it was high time for it at her age. However, marriage was never something she pushed onto her children, how disastrous it had been the one time she lightly encouraged it. “I suppose that means I have to afford Nefertari your allotment next week so she can be fitted for a more flattering garment,” the matriarch bantered, still waiting for her son’s reply and the bizarre feeling in her stomach to dissipate. It was the family she bore but the gathering felt so foreign to her she swore the soul was sucked out of her body and transplanted to the skies above.
As soon as Nenet walked in, Iaheru felt a pang of guilt for the harsher words she had said prior. Her youngest daughter’s proclivities softened Iaheru’s steely heart. Whereas her other children could bear the brunt of her coolest asides, the youngest woman could not, Iaheru debated on whether she would say something nice to Nenet, whether that would be appropriate or grossly unfair.
In the spirit of her mother, Neithotep was also guilty of throwing out, albeit, warmer chidings and negative quips. It was good to see that the young woman still retained bits of herself through the horrors she bore at night. Iaheru couldn’t boast the same feats, long ago she had turned icy and exacting in the face of her trauma. It was a good thing that this transformation happened early on in her family’s existence, lest her children be forced to cope with Iaheru’s duality. “Welcome,” her lips curled into a polite, but confused smile. Iaheru knew of everyone of stature in Egypt, but this one evaded her. At least he was dressed for the part, if a bit old for Nenet to traipse around with, and then the thought hit her. Was Nenet indeed traipsing around with such an older man.
Such was not unheard of in Egypt, but Iaheru had never seen her youngest daughter in that light. Forever infantilized not only by disability but by personal presentation, the mother wondered if she had missed something in the same way she missed bruises and scars on her older daughter, Neithotep. There was simply no way she could bear another daughter succumbing to the whims of evil men. “Tell me, Khufu of Benin, how are you acquainted with my family? I’m afraid that other than this gathering, we’ve been rather disjointed these past few months.”
Certainly, he would know what disjointment she was referring to.
Iaheru frowned at Neithotep’s compliment to Nefertari. If only she had pushed Narmer towards her eldest rather than her most beautiful and notorious. After all, tradition bidded that Nefertari be married first, and by Gods, it was high time for it at her age. However, marriage was never something she pushed onto her children, how disastrous it had been the one time she lightly encouraged it. “I suppose that means I have to afford Nefertari your allotment next week so she can be fitted for a more flattering garment,” the matriarch bantered, still waiting for her son’s reply and the bizarre feeling in her stomach to dissipate. It was the family she bore but the gathering felt so foreign to her she swore the soul was sucked out of her body and transplanted to the skies above.
“Isn’t this nice?” Nia asked no one in particular as a servant spooned the first of the course onto Nenet’s plate. Nenet reached out for her own flatbread, mirroring Nia’s actions and tearing off part of it so that she could scoop up the savory, if a little soupy, spiced meat onto the bread. She used the bread a bit like a spoon and her mouth was full as Nia continued with “All the Sheifa siblings together in one place, and nothing’s even on fire yet. Anyone want to place bets on how long that will take?”
Thankfully, right at that precise moment, Khufu shuffled in. He looked far more like a person now, rather than an exhausted, vague librarian. Nenet wasn’t entirely sure she loved the change. It made him too...human. Where before he’d seemed some sort of caricature from a story, tired, dusty, dreamy, a bit like an old book, now he looked like a man and struck her forcibly that he was actually handsome. She didn’t like thinking of him that way. Nia thought of people that way. Nenet couldn’t hide her relief, though, that he’d come and smiled at him once he looked in her direction. They couldn’t sit next to one another but across the table from one another instead, and that was better. Easier to converse or shoot looks at.
She could better bear the evening now and let the chatter of the others fade in and out as she focused on eating. Or, she tried to, at least, but her mother, always sharp and never lax in anything, pounced on Khufu like a lioness. Nenet’s large brown eyes lifted to meet her friend’s face, though whether he was looking at her in that precise moment or her mother was hard to tell because Nenet had to nearly immediately look away. A servant was trying to pour juice for her and she shook her head. Wine tonight. Or beer. Or both.
Nenet could guess at the source of her mother’s concern: that Nenet was having some sort of romantic liaison with this man and she was honestly a little flattered her mother might think so. The truth, though, was far more tame: he was her book dealer. While the others spoke, she remained fairly quiet, planning on adding literally no conversation if she could possibly help doing so.
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“Isn’t this nice?” Nia asked no one in particular as a servant spooned the first of the course onto Nenet’s plate. Nenet reached out for her own flatbread, mirroring Nia’s actions and tearing off part of it so that she could scoop up the savory, if a little soupy, spiced meat onto the bread. She used the bread a bit like a spoon and her mouth was full as Nia continued with “All the Sheifa siblings together in one place, and nothing’s even on fire yet. Anyone want to place bets on how long that will take?”
Thankfully, right at that precise moment, Khufu shuffled in. He looked far more like a person now, rather than an exhausted, vague librarian. Nenet wasn’t entirely sure she loved the change. It made him too...human. Where before he’d seemed some sort of caricature from a story, tired, dusty, dreamy, a bit like an old book, now he looked like a man and struck her forcibly that he was actually handsome. She didn’t like thinking of him that way. Nia thought of people that way. Nenet couldn’t hide her relief, though, that he’d come and smiled at him once he looked in her direction. They couldn’t sit next to one another but across the table from one another instead, and that was better. Easier to converse or shoot looks at.
She could better bear the evening now and let the chatter of the others fade in and out as she focused on eating. Or, she tried to, at least, but her mother, always sharp and never lax in anything, pounced on Khufu like a lioness. Nenet’s large brown eyes lifted to meet her friend’s face, though whether he was looking at her in that precise moment or her mother was hard to tell because Nenet had to nearly immediately look away. A servant was trying to pour juice for her and she shook her head. Wine tonight. Or beer. Or both.
Nenet could guess at the source of her mother’s concern: that Nenet was having some sort of romantic liaison with this man and she was honestly a little flattered her mother might think so. The truth, though, was far more tame: he was her book dealer. While the others spoke, she remained fairly quiet, planning on adding literally no conversation if she could possibly help doing so.
“Isn’t this nice?” Nia asked no one in particular as a servant spooned the first of the course onto Nenet’s plate. Nenet reached out for her own flatbread, mirroring Nia’s actions and tearing off part of it so that she could scoop up the savory, if a little soupy, spiced meat onto the bread. She used the bread a bit like a spoon and her mouth was full as Nia continued with “All the Sheifa siblings together in one place, and nothing’s even on fire yet. Anyone want to place bets on how long that will take?”
Thankfully, right at that precise moment, Khufu shuffled in. He looked far more like a person now, rather than an exhausted, vague librarian. Nenet wasn’t entirely sure she loved the change. It made him too...human. Where before he’d seemed some sort of caricature from a story, tired, dusty, dreamy, a bit like an old book, now he looked like a man and struck her forcibly that he was actually handsome. She didn’t like thinking of him that way. Nia thought of people that way. Nenet couldn’t hide her relief, though, that he’d come and smiled at him once he looked in her direction. They couldn’t sit next to one another but across the table from one another instead, and that was better. Easier to converse or shoot looks at.
She could better bear the evening now and let the chatter of the others fade in and out as she focused on eating. Or, she tried to, at least, but her mother, always sharp and never lax in anything, pounced on Khufu like a lioness. Nenet’s large brown eyes lifted to meet her friend’s face, though whether he was looking at her in that precise moment or her mother was hard to tell because Nenet had to nearly immediately look away. A servant was trying to pour juice for her and she shook her head. Wine tonight. Or beer. Or both.
Nenet could guess at the source of her mother’s concern: that Nenet was having some sort of romantic liaison with this man and she was honestly a little flattered her mother might think so. The truth, though, was far more tame: he was her book dealer. While the others spoke, she remained fairly quiet, planning on adding literally no conversation if she could possibly help doing so.
Wasn't it enough that Onuphrious was forced to live in rented accommodations while he was in town? But, to callously avoid inviting him to a dinner with all of his children, then flagrantly send a servant outside to some Greek whore living far too close to the place? It was outrageous, that some stranger was invited for dinner, but the sirdar himself was stuck on the outlyings. Was it a chance walk that led Onuphrious through the familiar walkway in the Ghani district, or were his intentions more intimate? Did he intend to chance upon his wife again? He really couldn't decide, but nevertheless, his legs trudged onwsard, taking him just in the moment that this Anastasia of the Whatever the Fuck was getting her summons.
Not dressed for the occasion, but informed enough of it, he decided to make his way back to his accommodations. He took the time, donning a shendyt threaded with gold, leaving his chest bared with merely a shawl to cover over his shoulders. Once he was properly groomed, with the line of kohl layering his eyes and the scent of jasmine worked into his wrists and along his neck, he exited, fully intent on doing exactly what Iaheru had done: spite.
Love soured by a grudge that anyone was unwilling to reconcile, but also intent on maintaining his place in his own hei, Onuphrious H'Sheifa was determined, a march taking him clear through the Ghani district until he was face to face with the guards that kept trespassers from the property.
"Is that the sirdar?" he heard from the distance, his lips curved into a smile as he thought, You're damn right it is. Prepared to force entry if necessary, it seemed that their loyalties were in the right place, and spears that'd been raised were lowered but a moment later. Allowed passage, a confident stride propelled him forth, the bitter resolve accumulating, his pace growing faster up until he reached the front doors and pried them open himself.
A swift stride carried him through until his eyes met the long table that all of the members of his family were sitting on. They were prattling on about the presence of Khufu, which he found interesting, but was far too preoccupied with the source of his ire to get friendly in. No, he pulled the chair back, intent on throwing the whore to the ground before he pointed to the exit.
"Get out."
There was no room for debate, no further conversation accepted by the intrude. He pointed at her until she turned around, a 'hmph' accompanying her steps before Anastasia left without another word. Surely, the girl would be furious, as would his son, who it seemed she was squeezing for all of the comforts of an undeserved life. Once the chair was vacated and the doors slammed behind them, he pushed it in calmly, brushing fingers through his hair before he took his place on the opposite end from his wife.
"Now that this is all sorted... How is everyone doing? It's been a couple of months since the family was assembled in one room? Or was it the jewelry sale?"
He really didn't remember much about it all. Some piddle auction robbed by some miscreants. He'd spent the time less on moping about his losses and more on recovering them through other means.
"In any case, to all of you, it's my pleasure to be in your company again. Please excuse the... mess."
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Wasn't it enough that Onuphrious was forced to live in rented accommodations while he was in town? But, to callously avoid inviting him to a dinner with all of his children, then flagrantly send a servant outside to some Greek whore living far too close to the place? It was outrageous, that some stranger was invited for dinner, but the sirdar himself was stuck on the outlyings. Was it a chance walk that led Onuphrious through the familiar walkway in the Ghani district, or were his intentions more intimate? Did he intend to chance upon his wife again? He really couldn't decide, but nevertheless, his legs trudged onwsard, taking him just in the moment that this Anastasia of the Whatever the Fuck was getting her summons.
Not dressed for the occasion, but informed enough of it, he decided to make his way back to his accommodations. He took the time, donning a shendyt threaded with gold, leaving his chest bared with merely a shawl to cover over his shoulders. Once he was properly groomed, with the line of kohl layering his eyes and the scent of jasmine worked into his wrists and along his neck, he exited, fully intent on doing exactly what Iaheru had done: spite.
Love soured by a grudge that anyone was unwilling to reconcile, but also intent on maintaining his place in his own hei, Onuphrious H'Sheifa was determined, a march taking him clear through the Ghani district until he was face to face with the guards that kept trespassers from the property.
"Is that the sirdar?" he heard from the distance, his lips curved into a smile as he thought, You're damn right it is. Prepared to force entry if necessary, it seemed that their loyalties were in the right place, and spears that'd been raised were lowered but a moment later. Allowed passage, a confident stride propelled him forth, the bitter resolve accumulating, his pace growing faster up until he reached the front doors and pried them open himself.
A swift stride carried him through until his eyes met the long table that all of the members of his family were sitting on. They were prattling on about the presence of Khufu, which he found interesting, but was far too preoccupied with the source of his ire to get friendly in. No, he pulled the chair back, intent on throwing the whore to the ground before he pointed to the exit.
"Get out."
There was no room for debate, no further conversation accepted by the intrude. He pointed at her until she turned around, a 'hmph' accompanying her steps before Anastasia left without another word. Surely, the girl would be furious, as would his son, who it seemed she was squeezing for all of the comforts of an undeserved life. Once the chair was vacated and the doors slammed behind them, he pushed it in calmly, brushing fingers through his hair before he took his place on the opposite end from his wife.
"Now that this is all sorted... How is everyone doing? It's been a couple of months since the family was assembled in one room? Or was it the jewelry sale?"
He really didn't remember much about it all. Some piddle auction robbed by some miscreants. He'd spent the time less on moping about his losses and more on recovering them through other means.
"In any case, to all of you, it's my pleasure to be in your company again. Please excuse the... mess."
Wasn't it enough that Onuphrious was forced to live in rented accommodations while he was in town? But, to callously avoid inviting him to a dinner with all of his children, then flagrantly send a servant outside to some Greek whore living far too close to the place? It was outrageous, that some stranger was invited for dinner, but the sirdar himself was stuck on the outlyings. Was it a chance walk that led Onuphrious through the familiar walkway in the Ghani district, or were his intentions more intimate? Did he intend to chance upon his wife again? He really couldn't decide, but nevertheless, his legs trudged onwsard, taking him just in the moment that this Anastasia of the Whatever the Fuck was getting her summons.
Not dressed for the occasion, but informed enough of it, he decided to make his way back to his accommodations. He took the time, donning a shendyt threaded with gold, leaving his chest bared with merely a shawl to cover over his shoulders. Once he was properly groomed, with the line of kohl layering his eyes and the scent of jasmine worked into his wrists and along his neck, he exited, fully intent on doing exactly what Iaheru had done: spite.
Love soured by a grudge that anyone was unwilling to reconcile, but also intent on maintaining his place in his own hei, Onuphrious H'Sheifa was determined, a march taking him clear through the Ghani district until he was face to face with the guards that kept trespassers from the property.
"Is that the sirdar?" he heard from the distance, his lips curved into a smile as he thought, You're damn right it is. Prepared to force entry if necessary, it seemed that their loyalties were in the right place, and spears that'd been raised were lowered but a moment later. Allowed passage, a confident stride propelled him forth, the bitter resolve accumulating, his pace growing faster up until he reached the front doors and pried them open himself.
A swift stride carried him through until his eyes met the long table that all of the members of his family were sitting on. They were prattling on about the presence of Khufu, which he found interesting, but was far too preoccupied with the source of his ire to get friendly in. No, he pulled the chair back, intent on throwing the whore to the ground before he pointed to the exit.
"Get out."
There was no room for debate, no further conversation accepted by the intrude. He pointed at her until she turned around, a 'hmph' accompanying her steps before Anastasia left without another word. Surely, the girl would be furious, as would his son, who it seemed she was squeezing for all of the comforts of an undeserved life. Once the chair was vacated and the doors slammed behind them, he pushed it in calmly, brushing fingers through his hair before he took his place on the opposite end from his wife.
"Now that this is all sorted... How is everyone doing? It's been a couple of months since the family was assembled in one room? Or was it the jewelry sale?"
He really didn't remember much about it all. Some piddle auction robbed by some miscreants. He'd spent the time less on moping about his losses and more on recovering them through other means.
"In any case, to all of you, it's my pleasure to be in your company again. Please excuse the... mess."
Hena was pulled from the rather intoxicating presence of his lover by his mothers words, asking after him and how life was as heir. What was she expecting to hear? That he was loving it and it was all going amazingly? She knew was well as he did that he was a disappointment to his parents. Parents who had never tried to put effort into raising him. They couldn’t blame him for not being some perfect heir like Sutekh when they were the ones who had shown all of their attention to the oldest boy and not their actual son.
He supposed it was what they got. They would become old and futile soon, and they would have to watch as Hena took the family and ran it as it should be. They had no ideas of the wheels he had already set in motion with the pirate and the Greek woman who was serving as his employee. Nor did they need to know what he was doing. It was none of their Gods damn business if he was being honest.
“It’s been so much fun. Everything I ever dreamed of.” He answered his mother in a sarcastic tone, the distaste for this situation and his entire heir situation in general was painted on his face. While he had swallowed the fact that he was going to be head of the house some day, and he had taken steps to ensure greatness under his control, he still hated that this was his situation. He had never thought this would be his life. Sutekh was made for this, Hena was not.
When he was satisfied with his reply to his mother, he turned his attention back to Ana, tilting her chin towards him to place another soft and lingering kiss to her lips, grinning for just a moment before he dropped his hand and sat back properly in his chair as the food began to be served.
From a small pouch hidden at his hip, Hena slipped two rather small clay phials out. The dark brown substance it held would be known by those who they were intended for. A minuscule amount within, he knew in it’s raw form it would be more than enough to take the edge off a bit and make this family dinner much more enjoyable.
Then there was some stranger entering, stating that he was a guest of Nenet’s and Hena’s eyebrow shot up. Was Nenet finally turning into a real person and taking lovers? He doubted it. Nenet would likely sulk in her room by herself until she was forced to marry. If their father would not do it, Hena would happily marry her off to the highest bidder.
He took the moment of the stranger entering the room to slip on of the phials of raw opium to Nia under the table, making sure that none of the family would likely see the exchange. The second phial he intended to share with his beloved who sat on the other side of him.
But before he could slip the thick liquid into any drinks or food, his father was entering the room, much to a lot of their surprise. Their father hadn’t been around all that much in general, but especially after the revelation that his precious heir was in fact not his son.
His father stormed over and was suddenly kicking Ana out with an anger in his eyes that Hena had never seen. His teeth gritted, the opium he had been looking forward to suddenly forgotten for the moment as he felt his anger starting to rise. Who was he to come in here and kick Ana out? Senile old fool with delusions that he held any power.
The future of H’Sheifa was not held in the hands of the man who was not intelligent enough to see his own wife’s unfaithfulness.
Hena reached out with his free hand to take one of Nia’s hands, squeezing but holding just enough control to not squeeze her hand hard enough to hurt. He needed her to comfort him, to ground him. She was the one thing that could help him keep control, at least most of the time. Now was not the time to lash out at his father. The old man would get what he deserved soon.
His angry gaze was trained on his father as the man took his seat, and it was clear how Hena felt for his father. There had been a time when he had wanted the man’s love, but that time was long gone.
“We were rather enjoying our evening until we were so rudely interrupted.” Hena snapped in reply to his father asking how everyone was. It wasn’t true, he didn’t think a single one of them was enjoying their time here, but he wanted his father to know that he was not welcome here by his own son, especially not after ejecting the woman he loved. He knew Ana would be fine, she was strong. He would visit her at her villa after this farce of a family dinner was over with and he would make it up to her. He would also warn her away from further family gatherings. There was no need for her to get tangled up in the hatred that radiated between the majority of the H’Sheifa family.
His anger finally subsiding, at least for now, he let go of Nia’s hand. Instead he popped the cork off of his opium phial. Originally his plan had been to indulge in secret with Ana and Nia, slipping the substance into food or drink to be consumed without those gathered together knowing.
Now? After his father’s little display? He held no care for subtlety.
He tipped the phial to his lips, the foul tasting substance being swallowed all at once before the clay phial was tossed carelessly behind him. He chased the opium taste by finishing his glass of wine, a defiant look shot to his father.
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Hena was pulled from the rather intoxicating presence of his lover by his mothers words, asking after him and how life was as heir. What was she expecting to hear? That he was loving it and it was all going amazingly? She knew was well as he did that he was a disappointment to his parents. Parents who had never tried to put effort into raising him. They couldn’t blame him for not being some perfect heir like Sutekh when they were the ones who had shown all of their attention to the oldest boy and not their actual son.
He supposed it was what they got. They would become old and futile soon, and they would have to watch as Hena took the family and ran it as it should be. They had no ideas of the wheels he had already set in motion with the pirate and the Greek woman who was serving as his employee. Nor did they need to know what he was doing. It was none of their Gods damn business if he was being honest.
“It’s been so much fun. Everything I ever dreamed of.” He answered his mother in a sarcastic tone, the distaste for this situation and his entire heir situation in general was painted on his face. While he had swallowed the fact that he was going to be head of the house some day, and he had taken steps to ensure greatness under his control, he still hated that this was his situation. He had never thought this would be his life. Sutekh was made for this, Hena was not.
When he was satisfied with his reply to his mother, he turned his attention back to Ana, tilting her chin towards him to place another soft and lingering kiss to her lips, grinning for just a moment before he dropped his hand and sat back properly in his chair as the food began to be served.
From a small pouch hidden at his hip, Hena slipped two rather small clay phials out. The dark brown substance it held would be known by those who they were intended for. A minuscule amount within, he knew in it’s raw form it would be more than enough to take the edge off a bit and make this family dinner much more enjoyable.
Then there was some stranger entering, stating that he was a guest of Nenet’s and Hena’s eyebrow shot up. Was Nenet finally turning into a real person and taking lovers? He doubted it. Nenet would likely sulk in her room by herself until she was forced to marry. If their father would not do it, Hena would happily marry her off to the highest bidder.
He took the moment of the stranger entering the room to slip on of the phials of raw opium to Nia under the table, making sure that none of the family would likely see the exchange. The second phial he intended to share with his beloved who sat on the other side of him.
But before he could slip the thick liquid into any drinks or food, his father was entering the room, much to a lot of their surprise. Their father hadn’t been around all that much in general, but especially after the revelation that his precious heir was in fact not his son.
His father stormed over and was suddenly kicking Ana out with an anger in his eyes that Hena had never seen. His teeth gritted, the opium he had been looking forward to suddenly forgotten for the moment as he felt his anger starting to rise. Who was he to come in here and kick Ana out? Senile old fool with delusions that he held any power.
The future of H’Sheifa was not held in the hands of the man who was not intelligent enough to see his own wife’s unfaithfulness.
Hena reached out with his free hand to take one of Nia’s hands, squeezing but holding just enough control to not squeeze her hand hard enough to hurt. He needed her to comfort him, to ground him. She was the one thing that could help him keep control, at least most of the time. Now was not the time to lash out at his father. The old man would get what he deserved soon.
His angry gaze was trained on his father as the man took his seat, and it was clear how Hena felt for his father. There had been a time when he had wanted the man’s love, but that time was long gone.
“We were rather enjoying our evening until we were so rudely interrupted.” Hena snapped in reply to his father asking how everyone was. It wasn’t true, he didn’t think a single one of them was enjoying their time here, but he wanted his father to know that he was not welcome here by his own son, especially not after ejecting the woman he loved. He knew Ana would be fine, she was strong. He would visit her at her villa after this farce of a family dinner was over with and he would make it up to her. He would also warn her away from further family gatherings. There was no need for her to get tangled up in the hatred that radiated between the majority of the H’Sheifa family.
His anger finally subsiding, at least for now, he let go of Nia’s hand. Instead he popped the cork off of his opium phial. Originally his plan had been to indulge in secret with Ana and Nia, slipping the substance into food or drink to be consumed without those gathered together knowing.
Now? After his father’s little display? He held no care for subtlety.
He tipped the phial to his lips, the foul tasting substance being swallowed all at once before the clay phial was tossed carelessly behind him. He chased the opium taste by finishing his glass of wine, a defiant look shot to his father.
Hena was pulled from the rather intoxicating presence of his lover by his mothers words, asking after him and how life was as heir. What was she expecting to hear? That he was loving it and it was all going amazingly? She knew was well as he did that he was a disappointment to his parents. Parents who had never tried to put effort into raising him. They couldn’t blame him for not being some perfect heir like Sutekh when they were the ones who had shown all of their attention to the oldest boy and not their actual son.
He supposed it was what they got. They would become old and futile soon, and they would have to watch as Hena took the family and ran it as it should be. They had no ideas of the wheels he had already set in motion with the pirate and the Greek woman who was serving as his employee. Nor did they need to know what he was doing. It was none of their Gods damn business if he was being honest.
“It’s been so much fun. Everything I ever dreamed of.” He answered his mother in a sarcastic tone, the distaste for this situation and his entire heir situation in general was painted on his face. While he had swallowed the fact that he was going to be head of the house some day, and he had taken steps to ensure greatness under his control, he still hated that this was his situation. He had never thought this would be his life. Sutekh was made for this, Hena was not.
When he was satisfied with his reply to his mother, he turned his attention back to Ana, tilting her chin towards him to place another soft and lingering kiss to her lips, grinning for just a moment before he dropped his hand and sat back properly in his chair as the food began to be served.
From a small pouch hidden at his hip, Hena slipped two rather small clay phials out. The dark brown substance it held would be known by those who they were intended for. A minuscule amount within, he knew in it’s raw form it would be more than enough to take the edge off a bit and make this family dinner much more enjoyable.
Then there was some stranger entering, stating that he was a guest of Nenet’s and Hena’s eyebrow shot up. Was Nenet finally turning into a real person and taking lovers? He doubted it. Nenet would likely sulk in her room by herself until she was forced to marry. If their father would not do it, Hena would happily marry her off to the highest bidder.
He took the moment of the stranger entering the room to slip on of the phials of raw opium to Nia under the table, making sure that none of the family would likely see the exchange. The second phial he intended to share with his beloved who sat on the other side of him.
But before he could slip the thick liquid into any drinks or food, his father was entering the room, much to a lot of their surprise. Their father hadn’t been around all that much in general, but especially after the revelation that his precious heir was in fact not his son.
His father stormed over and was suddenly kicking Ana out with an anger in his eyes that Hena had never seen. His teeth gritted, the opium he had been looking forward to suddenly forgotten for the moment as he felt his anger starting to rise. Who was he to come in here and kick Ana out? Senile old fool with delusions that he held any power.
The future of H’Sheifa was not held in the hands of the man who was not intelligent enough to see his own wife’s unfaithfulness.
Hena reached out with his free hand to take one of Nia’s hands, squeezing but holding just enough control to not squeeze her hand hard enough to hurt. He needed her to comfort him, to ground him. She was the one thing that could help him keep control, at least most of the time. Now was not the time to lash out at his father. The old man would get what he deserved soon.
His angry gaze was trained on his father as the man took his seat, and it was clear how Hena felt for his father. There had been a time when he had wanted the man’s love, but that time was long gone.
“We were rather enjoying our evening until we were so rudely interrupted.” Hena snapped in reply to his father asking how everyone was. It wasn’t true, he didn’t think a single one of them was enjoying their time here, but he wanted his father to know that he was not welcome here by his own son, especially not after ejecting the woman he loved. He knew Ana would be fine, she was strong. He would visit her at her villa after this farce of a family dinner was over with and he would make it up to her. He would also warn her away from further family gatherings. There was no need for her to get tangled up in the hatred that radiated between the majority of the H’Sheifa family.
His anger finally subsiding, at least for now, he let go of Nia’s hand. Instead he popped the cork off of his opium phial. Originally his plan had been to indulge in secret with Ana and Nia, slipping the substance into food or drink to be consumed without those gathered together knowing.
Now? After his father’s little display? He held no care for subtlety.
He tipped the phial to his lips, the foul tasting substance being swallowed all at once before the clay phial was tossed carelessly behind him. He chased the opium taste by finishing his glass of wine, a defiant look shot to his father.
As was incredibly predictable, this dinner was already shaping up to be a strange catastrophe, and at this point, honestly, Nia was just along for the ride. Bringing her wine to her lips, she watched with confused interest as Khufu entered the room, announcing Nenet had been the one to invite him. Blinking in confusion, she glanced between the two with a speculative eye—why in the world was Nenet inviting a middle-aged commoner to a family dinner? How did they even know each other? Granted, Nia was friends with him, as well, but it seemed a strange occasion to extend an invitation.
She smiled and waved in greeting before Iaheru was asking the questions she was thinking, curious as to what the answers might be. Was Nenet actually interested in someone? Was that why he was here? It seemed unlikely, but hey, stranger things had happened, right? Who was to say?
Surreptitiously, she took the vial Hena offered, dumping it into her wine under the table before bringing it back up to her mouth. Of course, she should have trusted that her brother would make this whole ordeal more bearable, flashing a grin of thanks in his direction as she swallowed the rest of her glass down. A slave was quickly at her shoulder to refill it, and it was then that their father decided to grace them all with his presence.
The room fell quiet as Onuphrious walked in, curiously absent of an invitation to dine with his own family. Moving over next to Akhenaten, he pulled the chair where Ana was seated back and ordered her from the room before taking it himself. Nia’s eyes widened as she watched the Grecian woman leave with a huff, hiding her expression behind the rim of her wine glass. Well, that was one way to make an entrance, wasn’t it, Dad?
Addressing the rest of them as if nothing had just happened and this wasn’t the most uncomfortable meal in the history of family gatherings, Nia did not deign to respond to her father’s words, but Hena certainly did. Squeezing his hand where it held hers in a nonverbal warning not to make this any worse than it already was, of course he didn’t listen… and really, Nia hadn’t honestly expected he would. Unlike her own subtle pouring of the opium concentrate into her glass, Hena dashed it right into his mouth with a defiant glare in their father’s direction, and Nia did her best to suppress a sigh. Wasn’t this just lovely.
“Hey, it’s a party now!” she declared with an attempt at levity, raising her glass in a mock toast. “To awkward family dinners! Everyone say, ‘hear, hear!’” Knocking the rest of the wine back in two swallows, she set the glass back down and glanced at her mother in a way as if to say, Why did you want to do this again? “It’s not a Sheifa soiree if someone isn’t getting wasted and someone else isn’t getting kicked out, am I right?”
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As was incredibly predictable, this dinner was already shaping up to be a strange catastrophe, and at this point, honestly, Nia was just along for the ride. Bringing her wine to her lips, she watched with confused interest as Khufu entered the room, announcing Nenet had been the one to invite him. Blinking in confusion, she glanced between the two with a speculative eye—why in the world was Nenet inviting a middle-aged commoner to a family dinner? How did they even know each other? Granted, Nia was friends with him, as well, but it seemed a strange occasion to extend an invitation.
She smiled and waved in greeting before Iaheru was asking the questions she was thinking, curious as to what the answers might be. Was Nenet actually interested in someone? Was that why he was here? It seemed unlikely, but hey, stranger things had happened, right? Who was to say?
Surreptitiously, she took the vial Hena offered, dumping it into her wine under the table before bringing it back up to her mouth. Of course, she should have trusted that her brother would make this whole ordeal more bearable, flashing a grin of thanks in his direction as she swallowed the rest of her glass down. A slave was quickly at her shoulder to refill it, and it was then that their father decided to grace them all with his presence.
The room fell quiet as Onuphrious walked in, curiously absent of an invitation to dine with his own family. Moving over next to Akhenaten, he pulled the chair where Ana was seated back and ordered her from the room before taking it himself. Nia’s eyes widened as she watched the Grecian woman leave with a huff, hiding her expression behind the rim of her wine glass. Well, that was one way to make an entrance, wasn’t it, Dad?
Addressing the rest of them as if nothing had just happened and this wasn’t the most uncomfortable meal in the history of family gatherings, Nia did not deign to respond to her father’s words, but Hena certainly did. Squeezing his hand where it held hers in a nonverbal warning not to make this any worse than it already was, of course he didn’t listen… and really, Nia hadn’t honestly expected he would. Unlike her own subtle pouring of the opium concentrate into her glass, Hena dashed it right into his mouth with a defiant glare in their father’s direction, and Nia did her best to suppress a sigh. Wasn’t this just lovely.
“Hey, it’s a party now!” she declared with an attempt at levity, raising her glass in a mock toast. “To awkward family dinners! Everyone say, ‘hear, hear!’” Knocking the rest of the wine back in two swallows, she set the glass back down and glanced at her mother in a way as if to say, Why did you want to do this again? “It’s not a Sheifa soiree if someone isn’t getting wasted and someone else isn’t getting kicked out, am I right?”
As was incredibly predictable, this dinner was already shaping up to be a strange catastrophe, and at this point, honestly, Nia was just along for the ride. Bringing her wine to her lips, she watched with confused interest as Khufu entered the room, announcing Nenet had been the one to invite him. Blinking in confusion, she glanced between the two with a speculative eye—why in the world was Nenet inviting a middle-aged commoner to a family dinner? How did they even know each other? Granted, Nia was friends with him, as well, but it seemed a strange occasion to extend an invitation.
She smiled and waved in greeting before Iaheru was asking the questions she was thinking, curious as to what the answers might be. Was Nenet actually interested in someone? Was that why he was here? It seemed unlikely, but hey, stranger things had happened, right? Who was to say?
Surreptitiously, she took the vial Hena offered, dumping it into her wine under the table before bringing it back up to her mouth. Of course, she should have trusted that her brother would make this whole ordeal more bearable, flashing a grin of thanks in his direction as she swallowed the rest of her glass down. A slave was quickly at her shoulder to refill it, and it was then that their father decided to grace them all with his presence.
The room fell quiet as Onuphrious walked in, curiously absent of an invitation to dine with his own family. Moving over next to Akhenaten, he pulled the chair where Ana was seated back and ordered her from the room before taking it himself. Nia’s eyes widened as she watched the Grecian woman leave with a huff, hiding her expression behind the rim of her wine glass. Well, that was one way to make an entrance, wasn’t it, Dad?
Addressing the rest of them as if nothing had just happened and this wasn’t the most uncomfortable meal in the history of family gatherings, Nia did not deign to respond to her father’s words, but Hena certainly did. Squeezing his hand where it held hers in a nonverbal warning not to make this any worse than it already was, of course he didn’t listen… and really, Nia hadn’t honestly expected he would. Unlike her own subtle pouring of the opium concentrate into her glass, Hena dashed it right into his mouth with a defiant glare in their father’s direction, and Nia did her best to suppress a sigh. Wasn’t this just lovely.
“Hey, it’s a party now!” she declared with an attempt at levity, raising her glass in a mock toast. “To awkward family dinners! Everyone say, ‘hear, hear!’” Knocking the rest of the wine back in two swallows, she set the glass back down and glanced at her mother in a way as if to say, Why did you want to do this again? “It’s not a Sheifa soiree if someone isn’t getting wasted and someone else isn’t getting kicked out, am I right?”
