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The festivities were not quite finished yet. Even as the sun threatened to ignite the horizon in perhaps another hour or so, Isetheperu could hear the faint echoes of drunken song and chanting which haunted the halls outside her heavy chamber door and escaped out of the great hall into the pre-dawn air.
Traditionally, the Sed festival would be repeated once more on the thirtieth anniversary of the Pharaoh's coronation. Of course, Isetheperu doubted it would be that long till the next; old age was a rare enough thing, and she supposed -- or perhaps hoped -- Iahotep would not last quite so long.
Isetheperu herself wondered when she had aged. Much time had passed, true, and she was older now than either of her parents had ever been. But despite her aching joints and distressingly failing vision, the Queen Dowager felt as if she were that same young woman who had caught the greatest quarry of all in the trap of her charm. At least now, while she had never had much more than distaste for the social posturing of these such events, she could use the pretext that she had outgrown her patience to tolerate them and the banal company of the attendees as the means to excuse herself whenever she liked.
At her beckoning, her servants busied themselves carefully removing the layers of cloth from her body, the heavy necklaces and bangles and earrings which seemed to have permanently left their marks on her aging skin -- her wig and furs which she donned as armor against the tides of scrutiny. Her tastes remained as luxuriant as they had always been. Let no one say that the former queen's radiance had diminished with the formal passing of her title.
Warm water was poured over her body to remove the paint and kohl and day from her skin. The sweat of not only herself but every man and woman who had sought fit to get too close for comfort in their celebratory haze, mixed with the stench of the beer which seemed to permeate the very air, clung to her skin, nearly inescapable if not for the perfumed salves and oils lathered across her body before being cocooned once more in a thinner layer of linen. And then, once she had been thoroughly deconstructed, the veneer was rebuilt. A new necklace, different but no less heavy with its gilded coils, was affixed to her collar, and the same with her ears, her wrists and her ankles. There was to be no sleep, not yet, not when there was still much planning to be done and important meetings to take place.
She struck a flame to her frankincense and set to work on the sheafs of paper strewn before her, where she lounged on the patio from her bedchamber in the palace's inner courtyard. Three different men had written to her to inquire about the possibility of renegotiating trade terms between their own businesses and her landholdings, no doubt seeking to take advantage of her presumably high spirits following her child's espousal. With a frown, she began her meticulous response to each entreaty, having them know in no uncertain terms that the conditions of their agreements were final, but it was not these men with which her mind was preoccupied as she did so.
Her thoughts turned instead to the events of the night so far, and more specifically to one particular interaction which she plotted to see through.
Though heated with anger, Osorsen had expressed his impulse to discuss their contention over recent events sooner rather than later. On this very night, in fact, and all things considered, Isetheperu had to agree that it was better to tackle this particular problem head on rather than let it fester. Her relationship with Hei Moghadam was not one she wished to sabotage if it could be avoided, but if the general insisted on indulging his tantrum then she may have no choice but to sever ties. Sacrifices must be made.
Still, if he would let her, she would be more than glad to present the reasoning behind her decisions, at least as much as was prudent and advantageous to indulge, and if all went as well as she could hope, then perhaps she might emerge from their clash. After all, it seemed these days that the lines between her friends and her enemies were becoming so much more indistinguishable. It could only behoove her to have her points of relation on either side of the division.
Yet she could not know for certain whether the man would even turn up to call on her at this hour, or even if he would in the coming days. Though she had extended the invitation, it could just as easily be rebuffed in his ire. All the worse for him, she thought, as he would only then be able to torture himself more without the explanation she believed he must be so desperate to hear. Perhaps for once the general might stifle his pride and accept the hope of whatever balm she was unlikely to offer him. She doubted that he would like what she had to say regardless.
Her ruminations were interrupted by the soft padding of bare feet, a newer servant approaching with some hesitation, and Isetheperu knew already what message was being delivered: "Your Majesty, his lordship Sirdar Moghadam seeks an audience."
Isetheperu felt the beginnings of a smug grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, though she could not place the source or cause of the triumphant sensation. Her eyes flicked up to meet the servant's, the boy swiftly and nervously averting his own lest he be cursed for impropriety. "Then show him in," the Queen Dowager commanded. The servant hesitated but a moment, no doubt finding it curious that she agreed to the meeting at all, and especially here rather than insisting on moving to her library or study as was often the case with such business. But there was no room to question her decisions, and a split second later he had disappeared through the curtain once more to fetch the inquiring general.
With a rustling of the papers at hand, Isetheperu set aside her missives and ledgers, folding them beneath the weight of a forgotten bowl of dates so as to not lose them to the warm night breeze. When the unmistakably heavier footsteps approached and a familiar silhouette shouldered his way past the silk drapery to the patio, Isetheperu did not stand but instead fixed Osorsen with a tight, even gaze, her fingers laced across her torso as they often were. "My boy, it has been so long since any man called upon me at such an hour. I trust you've divested your tongue of its insults by now."
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The festivities were not quite finished yet. Even as the sun threatened to ignite the horizon in perhaps another hour or so, Isetheperu could hear the faint echoes of drunken song and chanting which haunted the halls outside her heavy chamber door and escaped out of the great hall into the pre-dawn air.
Traditionally, the Sed festival would be repeated once more on the thirtieth anniversary of the Pharaoh's coronation. Of course, Isetheperu doubted it would be that long till the next; old age was a rare enough thing, and she supposed -- or perhaps hoped -- Iahotep would not last quite so long.
Isetheperu herself wondered when she had aged. Much time had passed, true, and she was older now than either of her parents had ever been. But despite her aching joints and distressingly failing vision, the Queen Dowager felt as if she were that same young woman who had caught the greatest quarry of all in the trap of her charm. At least now, while she had never had much more than distaste for the social posturing of these such events, she could use the pretext that she had outgrown her patience to tolerate them and the banal company of the attendees as the means to excuse herself whenever she liked.
At her beckoning, her servants busied themselves carefully removing the layers of cloth from her body, the heavy necklaces and bangles and earrings which seemed to have permanently left their marks on her aging skin -- her wig and furs which she donned as armor against the tides of scrutiny. Her tastes remained as luxuriant as they had always been. Let no one say that the former queen's radiance had diminished with the formal passing of her title.
Warm water was poured over her body to remove the paint and kohl and day from her skin. The sweat of not only herself but every man and woman who had sought fit to get too close for comfort in their celebratory haze, mixed with the stench of the beer which seemed to permeate the very air, clung to her skin, nearly inescapable if not for the perfumed salves and oils lathered across her body before being cocooned once more in a thinner layer of linen. And then, once she had been thoroughly deconstructed, the veneer was rebuilt. A new necklace, different but no less heavy with its gilded coils, was affixed to her collar, and the same with her ears, her wrists and her ankles. There was to be no sleep, not yet, not when there was still much planning to be done and important meetings to take place.
She struck a flame to her frankincense and set to work on the sheafs of paper strewn before her, where she lounged on the patio from her bedchamber in the palace's inner courtyard. Three different men had written to her to inquire about the possibility of renegotiating trade terms between their own businesses and her landholdings, no doubt seeking to take advantage of her presumably high spirits following her child's espousal. With a frown, she began her meticulous response to each entreaty, having them know in no uncertain terms that the conditions of their agreements were final, but it was not these men with which her mind was preoccupied as she did so.
Her thoughts turned instead to the events of the night so far, and more specifically to one particular interaction which she plotted to see through.
Though heated with anger, Osorsen had expressed his impulse to discuss their contention over recent events sooner rather than later. On this very night, in fact, and all things considered, Isetheperu had to agree that it was better to tackle this particular problem head on rather than let it fester. Her relationship with Hei Moghadam was not one she wished to sabotage if it could be avoided, but if the general insisted on indulging his tantrum then she may have no choice but to sever ties. Sacrifices must be made.
Still, if he would let her, she would be more than glad to present the reasoning behind her decisions, at least as much as was prudent and advantageous to indulge, and if all went as well as she could hope, then perhaps she might emerge from their clash. After all, it seemed these days that the lines between her friends and her enemies were becoming so much more indistinguishable. It could only behoove her to have her points of relation on either side of the division.
Yet she could not know for certain whether the man would even turn up to call on her at this hour, or even if he would in the coming days. Though she had extended the invitation, it could just as easily be rebuffed in his ire. All the worse for him, she thought, as he would only then be able to torture himself more without the explanation she believed he must be so desperate to hear. Perhaps for once the general might stifle his pride and accept the hope of whatever balm she was unlikely to offer him. She doubted that he would like what she had to say regardless.
Her ruminations were interrupted by the soft padding of bare feet, a newer servant approaching with some hesitation, and Isetheperu knew already what message was being delivered: "Your Majesty, his lordship Sirdar Moghadam seeks an audience."
Isetheperu felt the beginnings of a smug grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, though she could not place the source or cause of the triumphant sensation. Her eyes flicked up to meet the servant's, the boy swiftly and nervously averting his own lest he be cursed for impropriety. "Then show him in," the Queen Dowager commanded. The servant hesitated but a moment, no doubt finding it curious that she agreed to the meeting at all, and especially here rather than insisting on moving to her library or study as was often the case with such business. But there was no room to question her decisions, and a split second later he had disappeared through the curtain once more to fetch the inquiring general.
With a rustling of the papers at hand, Isetheperu set aside her missives and ledgers, folding them beneath the weight of a forgotten bowl of dates so as to not lose them to the warm night breeze. When the unmistakably heavier footsteps approached and a familiar silhouette shouldered his way past the silk drapery to the patio, Isetheperu did not stand but instead fixed Osorsen with a tight, even gaze, her fingers laced across her torso as they often were. "My boy, it has been so long since any man called upon me at such an hour. I trust you've divested your tongue of its insults by now."
The festivities were not quite finished yet. Even as the sun threatened to ignite the horizon in perhaps another hour or so, Isetheperu could hear the faint echoes of drunken song and chanting which haunted the halls outside her heavy chamber door and escaped out of the great hall into the pre-dawn air.
Traditionally, the Sed festival would be repeated once more on the thirtieth anniversary of the Pharaoh's coronation. Of course, Isetheperu doubted it would be that long till the next; old age was a rare enough thing, and she supposed -- or perhaps hoped -- Iahotep would not last quite so long.
Isetheperu herself wondered when she had aged. Much time had passed, true, and she was older now than either of her parents had ever been. But despite her aching joints and distressingly failing vision, the Queen Dowager felt as if she were that same young woman who had caught the greatest quarry of all in the trap of her charm. At least now, while she had never had much more than distaste for the social posturing of these such events, she could use the pretext that she had outgrown her patience to tolerate them and the banal company of the attendees as the means to excuse herself whenever she liked.
At her beckoning, her servants busied themselves carefully removing the layers of cloth from her body, the heavy necklaces and bangles and earrings which seemed to have permanently left their marks on her aging skin -- her wig and furs which she donned as armor against the tides of scrutiny. Her tastes remained as luxuriant as they had always been. Let no one say that the former queen's radiance had diminished with the formal passing of her title.
Warm water was poured over her body to remove the paint and kohl and day from her skin. The sweat of not only herself but every man and woman who had sought fit to get too close for comfort in their celebratory haze, mixed with the stench of the beer which seemed to permeate the very air, clung to her skin, nearly inescapable if not for the perfumed salves and oils lathered across her body before being cocooned once more in a thinner layer of linen. And then, once she had been thoroughly deconstructed, the veneer was rebuilt. A new necklace, different but no less heavy with its gilded coils, was affixed to her collar, and the same with her ears, her wrists and her ankles. There was to be no sleep, not yet, not when there was still much planning to be done and important meetings to take place.
She struck a flame to her frankincense and set to work on the sheafs of paper strewn before her, where she lounged on the patio from her bedchamber in the palace's inner courtyard. Three different men had written to her to inquire about the possibility of renegotiating trade terms between their own businesses and her landholdings, no doubt seeking to take advantage of her presumably high spirits following her child's espousal. With a frown, she began her meticulous response to each entreaty, having them know in no uncertain terms that the conditions of their agreements were final, but it was not these men with which her mind was preoccupied as she did so.
Her thoughts turned instead to the events of the night so far, and more specifically to one particular interaction which she plotted to see through.
Though heated with anger, Osorsen had expressed his impulse to discuss their contention over recent events sooner rather than later. On this very night, in fact, and all things considered, Isetheperu had to agree that it was better to tackle this particular problem head on rather than let it fester. Her relationship with Hei Moghadam was not one she wished to sabotage if it could be avoided, but if the general insisted on indulging his tantrum then she may have no choice but to sever ties. Sacrifices must be made.
Still, if he would let her, she would be more than glad to present the reasoning behind her decisions, at least as much as was prudent and advantageous to indulge, and if all went as well as she could hope, then perhaps she might emerge from their clash. After all, it seemed these days that the lines between her friends and her enemies were becoming so much more indistinguishable. It could only behoove her to have her points of relation on either side of the division.
Yet she could not know for certain whether the man would even turn up to call on her at this hour, or even if he would in the coming days. Though she had extended the invitation, it could just as easily be rebuffed in his ire. All the worse for him, she thought, as he would only then be able to torture himself more without the explanation she believed he must be so desperate to hear. Perhaps for once the general might stifle his pride and accept the hope of whatever balm she was unlikely to offer him. She doubted that he would like what she had to say regardless.
Her ruminations were interrupted by the soft padding of bare feet, a newer servant approaching with some hesitation, and Isetheperu knew already what message was being delivered: "Your Majesty, his lordship Sirdar Moghadam seeks an audience."
Isetheperu felt the beginnings of a smug grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, though she could not place the source or cause of the triumphant sensation. Her eyes flicked up to meet the servant's, the boy swiftly and nervously averting his own lest he be cursed for impropriety. "Then show him in," the Queen Dowager commanded. The servant hesitated but a moment, no doubt finding it curious that she agreed to the meeting at all, and especially here rather than insisting on moving to her library or study as was often the case with such business. But there was no room to question her decisions, and a split second later he had disappeared through the curtain once more to fetch the inquiring general.
With a rustling of the papers at hand, Isetheperu set aside her missives and ledgers, folding them beneath the weight of a forgotten bowl of dates so as to not lose them to the warm night breeze. When the unmistakably heavier footsteps approached and a familiar silhouette shouldered his way past the silk drapery to the patio, Isetheperu did not stand but instead fixed Osorsen with a tight, even gaze, her fingers laced across her torso as they often were. "My boy, it has been so long since any man called upon me at such an hour. I trust you've divested your tongue of its insults by now."
The fury he'd shown at the Sed had barely cooled in the hours since he had stormed out of the event, returning only after most activities had died down. Divested of his own finery, he was dressed simply as he moved silently through the familiar halls of the palace. After all, he had once thought it would become his own, and he'd spent countless days and nights here at Hatshepsut's side, first as an instructor, then as a lover and one secretly betrothed to her between themselves. The queen's words rang in his ears and he knew that her guards would be loathe to allow him in after the display he'd put on at the festival. They were wary of him even though he carried no weapons. He didn't need them for this. If she attacked him he could break her with one hand, and he'd plenty of training in war how to handle soldiers armed against his own lack.
His lips were pressed into a firm line as he was finally shown in, and he kept his hands behind his back clenched in fists to try to stem some of the rage that was still burning in his belly. If she knew everything, then she had made a horrible mistake. If she was missing information, well, there was still time for him to smother the old man in his sleep and take his place. It would be all too easy. But, if Isetheperu wanted a battle, a war even, then that was what she was going to get. Perhaps not today, but before she passed to be judged before Anubis, she would see his reign.
"When in the past we were fond of one another, I would have allowed such an address. But as you have seen fit to take another son, I am to be addressed properly if you seek such a thing for yourself, Dowager."
With a tense set to his jaw, he curled his upper lip in disgust at her. Where once he had considered her a friend and ally, a future mother to replace the one he had lost so long ago, all he could see of her now was a climber who had been placed in such heights and now grasped at every chance to stay. She had made one mistake too many, reached for too much power and he would make her regret it if she did not accept his wish now.
"I love her. And she loved me. We were going to marry and lift Egypt to new heights together, with you in a place of honor at our side. And you threw that down. Kept this from me. What good reason can you give me to excuse this."
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The fury he'd shown at the Sed had barely cooled in the hours since he had stormed out of the event, returning only after most activities had died down. Divested of his own finery, he was dressed simply as he moved silently through the familiar halls of the palace. After all, he had once thought it would become his own, and he'd spent countless days and nights here at Hatshepsut's side, first as an instructor, then as a lover and one secretly betrothed to her between themselves. The queen's words rang in his ears and he knew that her guards would be loathe to allow him in after the display he'd put on at the festival. They were wary of him even though he carried no weapons. He didn't need them for this. If she attacked him he could break her with one hand, and he'd plenty of training in war how to handle soldiers armed against his own lack.
His lips were pressed into a firm line as he was finally shown in, and he kept his hands behind his back clenched in fists to try to stem some of the rage that was still burning in his belly. If she knew everything, then she had made a horrible mistake. If she was missing information, well, there was still time for him to smother the old man in his sleep and take his place. It would be all too easy. But, if Isetheperu wanted a battle, a war even, then that was what she was going to get. Perhaps not today, but before she passed to be judged before Anubis, she would see his reign.
"When in the past we were fond of one another, I would have allowed such an address. But as you have seen fit to take another son, I am to be addressed properly if you seek such a thing for yourself, Dowager."
With a tense set to his jaw, he curled his upper lip in disgust at her. Where once he had considered her a friend and ally, a future mother to replace the one he had lost so long ago, all he could see of her now was a climber who had been placed in such heights and now grasped at every chance to stay. She had made one mistake too many, reached for too much power and he would make her regret it if she did not accept his wish now.
"I love her. And she loved me. We were going to marry and lift Egypt to new heights together, with you in a place of honor at our side. And you threw that down. Kept this from me. What good reason can you give me to excuse this."
The fury he'd shown at the Sed had barely cooled in the hours since he had stormed out of the event, returning only after most activities had died down. Divested of his own finery, he was dressed simply as he moved silently through the familiar halls of the palace. After all, he had once thought it would become his own, and he'd spent countless days and nights here at Hatshepsut's side, first as an instructor, then as a lover and one secretly betrothed to her between themselves. The queen's words rang in his ears and he knew that her guards would be loathe to allow him in after the display he'd put on at the festival. They were wary of him even though he carried no weapons. He didn't need them for this. If she attacked him he could break her with one hand, and he'd plenty of training in war how to handle soldiers armed against his own lack.
His lips were pressed into a firm line as he was finally shown in, and he kept his hands behind his back clenched in fists to try to stem some of the rage that was still burning in his belly. If she knew everything, then she had made a horrible mistake. If she was missing information, well, there was still time for him to smother the old man in his sleep and take his place. It would be all too easy. But, if Isetheperu wanted a battle, a war even, then that was what she was going to get. Perhaps not today, but before she passed to be judged before Anubis, she would see his reign.
"When in the past we were fond of one another, I would have allowed such an address. But as you have seen fit to take another son, I am to be addressed properly if you seek such a thing for yourself, Dowager."
With a tense set to his jaw, he curled his upper lip in disgust at her. Where once he had considered her a friend and ally, a future mother to replace the one he had lost so long ago, all he could see of her now was a climber who had been placed in such heights and now grasped at every chance to stay. She had made one mistake too many, reached for too much power and he would make her regret it if she did not accept his wish now.
"I love her. And she loved me. We were going to marry and lift Egypt to new heights together, with you in a place of honor at our side. And you threw that down. Kept this from me. What good reason can you give me to excuse this."
The wry smile which had held her lips tempered at Osorsen's words. Isetheperu raised a hand with deliberate slowness and traced a finger beneath the hard line of her mouth in consideration. "You seem to think I have spited you. I assure you that you had no role to play in the decisions I have made, sirdar."
She held no ill will towards him, least not prior to these past days. His choice of reactionary measures, however, was more than a little telling of his character, and his own motivations. The general's respect for the woman who was once queen was contingent upon his claim to her daughter, and to the throne itself. Which was he more upset about losing? She wondered, her eyes narrowing cooly.
A memory came to Isetheperu, of the first time she had met the man before her now. A boy he had been then, decades ago, when she made the house call upon Hei Moghadam to mourn the sudden loss of Osorsen's father. There had always been some desperation about him, she thought. Some rage and willfulness. But, having been denied motherhood for so long by then, she had seen in him as well everything she had wished for in the infant sons she had lost in the years prior, and the many more that would follow. She believed she had earned some of the pride she felt when she watched him grow, and when the time came, she entrusted the education and company of her own daughter to him. Perhaps she had been blinded all those years to his true desires.
"Love," she scoffed. Though Isetheperu took umbrage in many different forms to the words Osorsen spoke, that was the one which she latched onto most immediately. She did not expand on what she meant, but instead let her tone convey what exactly she thought of the idea. He gazed upon Isetheperu's daughter as if she were a dog, and called that love. They had mistaken obsession for love, more like; Hatshepsut had swooned to the general's masculine grace and flattery. And regardless of how the pair felt towards one another, the point was moot. Emotional attachment was no metric by which to measure one's right or ability to rule. Truly, right and ability were not metrics by which to determine the next Pharaoh at all. Isetheperu alone had earned the right to choose, to forge the fate and destiny of the nation and her own family -- she had earned the right to a second chance for Hei Fakhouri.
"Let us get one thing clear." Her words were clipped, dangerously enunciated, sharp with intention, as if the force of her own anger was pushing against her teeth. "I kept nothing from you, because you were never entitled to it. Just as you are entitled to no explanation. I have no need to excuse nor justify my decisions to anyone, and you are no one to demand them of me."
A deep and steadying breath filled her lungs, letting the words settle into the still air around them. Isetheperu, allowing a moment of pause, extended an index finger heavenward to indicate that she was not finished even as she tilted her head to gaze out at the empty courtyard, at the sway of the grass fronds and reflection of the stars on the inky pool.
"As a gift, however, I can issue insight."
She did not wish to lose Hei Moghadam as an ally, despite its head's impropriety. Making enemies, at this stage in the game, would be not a boon to the uncertain future of her house. But such a thing was perhaps unavoidable, as she had considered when she chose this path to begin with. The cards she held so close to her chest must be played most carefully.
"Please," Isetheperu intoned in a way that implied she was not asking at all, and gestured to the pile of cushions which sat opposite her own reclined position on the patio, "Won't you sit?"
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The wry smile which had held her lips tempered at Osorsen's words. Isetheperu raised a hand with deliberate slowness and traced a finger beneath the hard line of her mouth in consideration. "You seem to think I have spited you. I assure you that you had no role to play in the decisions I have made, sirdar."
She held no ill will towards him, least not prior to these past days. His choice of reactionary measures, however, was more than a little telling of his character, and his own motivations. The general's respect for the woman who was once queen was contingent upon his claim to her daughter, and to the throne itself. Which was he more upset about losing? She wondered, her eyes narrowing cooly.
A memory came to Isetheperu, of the first time she had met the man before her now. A boy he had been then, decades ago, when she made the house call upon Hei Moghadam to mourn the sudden loss of Osorsen's father. There had always been some desperation about him, she thought. Some rage and willfulness. But, having been denied motherhood for so long by then, she had seen in him as well everything she had wished for in the infant sons she had lost in the years prior, and the many more that would follow. She believed she had earned some of the pride she felt when she watched him grow, and when the time came, she entrusted the education and company of her own daughter to him. Perhaps she had been blinded all those years to his true desires.
"Love," she scoffed. Though Isetheperu took umbrage in many different forms to the words Osorsen spoke, that was the one which she latched onto most immediately. She did not expand on what she meant, but instead let her tone convey what exactly she thought of the idea. He gazed upon Isetheperu's daughter as if she were a dog, and called that love. They had mistaken obsession for love, more like; Hatshepsut had swooned to the general's masculine grace and flattery. And regardless of how the pair felt towards one another, the point was moot. Emotional attachment was no metric by which to measure one's right or ability to rule. Truly, right and ability were not metrics by which to determine the next Pharaoh at all. Isetheperu alone had earned the right to choose, to forge the fate and destiny of the nation and her own family -- she had earned the right to a second chance for Hei Fakhouri.
"Let us get one thing clear." Her words were clipped, dangerously enunciated, sharp with intention, as if the force of her own anger was pushing against her teeth. "I kept nothing from you, because you were never entitled to it. Just as you are entitled to no explanation. I have no need to excuse nor justify my decisions to anyone, and you are no one to demand them of me."
A deep and steadying breath filled her lungs, letting the words settle into the still air around them. Isetheperu, allowing a moment of pause, extended an index finger heavenward to indicate that she was not finished even as she tilted her head to gaze out at the empty courtyard, at the sway of the grass fronds and reflection of the stars on the inky pool.
"As a gift, however, I can issue insight."
She did not wish to lose Hei Moghadam as an ally, despite its head's impropriety. Making enemies, at this stage in the game, would be not a boon to the uncertain future of her house. But such a thing was perhaps unavoidable, as she had considered when she chose this path to begin with. The cards she held so close to her chest must be played most carefully.
"Please," Isetheperu intoned in a way that implied she was not asking at all, and gestured to the pile of cushions which sat opposite her own reclined position on the patio, "Won't you sit?"
The wry smile which had held her lips tempered at Osorsen's words. Isetheperu raised a hand with deliberate slowness and traced a finger beneath the hard line of her mouth in consideration. "You seem to think I have spited you. I assure you that you had no role to play in the decisions I have made, sirdar."
She held no ill will towards him, least not prior to these past days. His choice of reactionary measures, however, was more than a little telling of his character, and his own motivations. The general's respect for the woman who was once queen was contingent upon his claim to her daughter, and to the throne itself. Which was he more upset about losing? She wondered, her eyes narrowing cooly.
A memory came to Isetheperu, of the first time she had met the man before her now. A boy he had been then, decades ago, when she made the house call upon Hei Moghadam to mourn the sudden loss of Osorsen's father. There had always been some desperation about him, she thought. Some rage and willfulness. But, having been denied motherhood for so long by then, she had seen in him as well everything she had wished for in the infant sons she had lost in the years prior, and the many more that would follow. She believed she had earned some of the pride she felt when she watched him grow, and when the time came, she entrusted the education and company of her own daughter to him. Perhaps she had been blinded all those years to his true desires.
"Love," she scoffed. Though Isetheperu took umbrage in many different forms to the words Osorsen spoke, that was the one which she latched onto most immediately. She did not expand on what she meant, but instead let her tone convey what exactly she thought of the idea. He gazed upon Isetheperu's daughter as if she were a dog, and called that love. They had mistaken obsession for love, more like; Hatshepsut had swooned to the general's masculine grace and flattery. And regardless of how the pair felt towards one another, the point was moot. Emotional attachment was no metric by which to measure one's right or ability to rule. Truly, right and ability were not metrics by which to determine the next Pharaoh at all. Isetheperu alone had earned the right to choose, to forge the fate and destiny of the nation and her own family -- she had earned the right to a second chance for Hei Fakhouri.
"Let us get one thing clear." Her words were clipped, dangerously enunciated, sharp with intention, as if the force of her own anger was pushing against her teeth. "I kept nothing from you, because you were never entitled to it. Just as you are entitled to no explanation. I have no need to excuse nor justify my decisions to anyone, and you are no one to demand them of me."
A deep and steadying breath filled her lungs, letting the words settle into the still air around them. Isetheperu, allowing a moment of pause, extended an index finger heavenward to indicate that she was not finished even as she tilted her head to gaze out at the empty courtyard, at the sway of the grass fronds and reflection of the stars on the inky pool.
"As a gift, however, I can issue insight."
She did not wish to lose Hei Moghadam as an ally, despite its head's impropriety. Making enemies, at this stage in the game, would be not a boon to the uncertain future of her house. But such a thing was perhaps unavoidable, as she had considered when she chose this path to begin with. The cards she held so close to her chest must be played most carefully.
"Please," Isetheperu intoned in a way that implied she was not asking at all, and gestured to the pile of cushions which sat opposite her own reclined position on the patio, "Won't you sit?"
"If I held no place in your thoughts when you made this decision, that was your greatest error."
He stood tall, voice far calmer than he felt as she sneered at his declaration of love. In the end he supposed they shouldn't have hoped for compassion from the dowager queen, she had never expressed any care or desire for love, had been only ambition and power. The clipped anger in her tone now seemed sad, and as he looked at her it was as if the veil of the years of respect were finally slipping away and he could see her for what she was, who she was. Someone who lived through her daughter because she could never attain what Hatshepsut had, who could only live properly through the control she exerted over the younger woman.
Osorsen tipped his chin up as she insisted on carrying on trying to put him in his place. A slight smile surfaced and it felt as if the more her anger grew the less his own had. He had been anticipating a meeting of betrayal, of an old friend who had turned against him, but now he could see through to the weak, old woman, who was fighting to keep her relevance against the rising tide of youth. And now time was on his side as she slipped away.
"For your gifts I think, I shall remain as I am."
Gesturing to her to carry on with whatever it was she had to say, the general allowed himself this one small rebellion.
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"If I held no place in your thoughts when you made this decision, that was your greatest error."
He stood tall, voice far calmer than he felt as she sneered at his declaration of love. In the end he supposed they shouldn't have hoped for compassion from the dowager queen, she had never expressed any care or desire for love, had been only ambition and power. The clipped anger in her tone now seemed sad, and as he looked at her it was as if the veil of the years of respect were finally slipping away and he could see her for what she was, who she was. Someone who lived through her daughter because she could never attain what Hatshepsut had, who could only live properly through the control she exerted over the younger woman.
Osorsen tipped his chin up as she insisted on carrying on trying to put him in his place. A slight smile surfaced and it felt as if the more her anger grew the less his own had. He had been anticipating a meeting of betrayal, of an old friend who had turned against him, but now he could see through to the weak, old woman, who was fighting to keep her relevance against the rising tide of youth. And now time was on his side as she slipped away.
"For your gifts I think, I shall remain as I am."
Gesturing to her to carry on with whatever it was she had to say, the general allowed himself this one small rebellion.
"If I held no place in your thoughts when you made this decision, that was your greatest error."
He stood tall, voice far calmer than he felt as she sneered at his declaration of love. In the end he supposed they shouldn't have hoped for compassion from the dowager queen, she had never expressed any care or desire for love, had been only ambition and power. The clipped anger in her tone now seemed sad, and as he looked at her it was as if the veil of the years of respect were finally slipping away and he could see her for what she was, who she was. Someone who lived through her daughter because she could never attain what Hatshepsut had, who could only live properly through the control she exerted over the younger woman.
Osorsen tipped his chin up as she insisted on carrying on trying to put him in his place. A slight smile surfaced and it felt as if the more her anger grew the less his own had. He had been anticipating a meeting of betrayal, of an old friend who had turned against him, but now he could see through to the weak, old woman, who was fighting to keep her relevance against the rising tide of youth. And now time was on his side as she slipped away.
"For your gifts I think, I shall remain as I am."
Gesturing to her to carry on with whatever it was she had to say, the general allowed himself this one small rebellion.
Isetheperu worked her jaw at the general’s defiance, the anger barely contained on the tip of her tongue stilling as she met his increasingly cool gaze with her own heated glare. Eyes locked like two wildcats vying silently for dominance, the queen dowager allowed silence to fall between the two of them.
After several uncomfortable seconds, Isetheperu broke her steely expression with a well-practiced smile, a forced pleasantry she had forced herself to endure many a time, though only recently in Osorsen’s company.
“If it makes you feel better,” she acquiesced to his demand to remain standing, her voice brimming with a sweet-tasting sort of venom.
Oh, how it disappointed her, to see him now as he surely must have been all along; his vulgarity now only made her certain that she had taken the correct path in attempting to secure a brighter future for her own Hei. She did not want to think how close she might have come to falling for the young man’s charms, and it pained her now to think how her daughter, as idealistic and naive as she was, remained tangled in his web.
“Was it? My greatest error, I mean,” Isethepru addressed his prior statement. The line of questioning was laced with caustic sincerity. “Do you keep me in mind always when you make decisions that will in no uncertain terms jeopardize the future of your Hei?” The line of questioning was laced with caustic sincerity. Isetheperu glanced over at her bowl of dates and moved to lift them in offering to her guest, resting her free hand atop the small stack of business missives which the fruits had been weighing down from the breeze, as if in emphasis of her point.
She waited a beat for Osorsen’s acceptance or refusal, before returning the bowl to her place and continuing, taking on a more businesslike tone.
“For the sake of your feet, then,” Isetheperu deadpanned, quirking her brow meaningfully at the floor beneath the towering man, “I’ll not dance around my meaning. You know -- everyone knows -- that I am the last of the true Fakhouri bloodline.”
Isetheperu leaned back to settle bodily against the cushions, folding her hands in front of her and gazing up at Osorsen as if she were delivering a lecture to a dilettante of the Pharaoh’s court. “This, you understand, means that if I were to marry my only child -- a daughter no less -- to another Hei, I might as well have written the epilogue of a thousand-year-old legacy myself. Hatshepsut’s son, if she had one at all, would always have any possible allegiance to Hei Fakhouri overshadowed by their father’s Hei. Whatever I left behind with my passing would be absorbed by another dynasty as if it had never existed at all.”
“So how far would you go, Sirdar H’Moghadem, to prevent the extinction of your family? Tell me you would not do anything and everything within your power to prevent a millennium’s worth of your ancestor’s shame from bearing down on you.”
Isetheperu’s grew more bitter the more she spoke until she felt herself returning to the verge of hurling her words at the man. She stopped short of line of confrontation, taking a deep breath and easing her eyes out across the calm pool of water beyond her patio. It reflected the many stars above, and in her mind’s eye, Isetheperu could imagine them as all the men and women of Hei Fakhouri, watching, cold and distant. Judging. A stiff night breeze sent a shiver across the back of her neck.
When she spoke next, she was devoid of the passion that had come to tinge her words. “The only way Hei Fakhouri has a future is with Iahotep as Pharaoh.”
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Isetheperu worked her jaw at the general’s defiance, the anger barely contained on the tip of her tongue stilling as she met his increasingly cool gaze with her own heated glare. Eyes locked like two wildcats vying silently for dominance, the queen dowager allowed silence to fall between the two of them.
After several uncomfortable seconds, Isetheperu broke her steely expression with a well-practiced smile, a forced pleasantry she had forced herself to endure many a time, though only recently in Osorsen’s company.
“If it makes you feel better,” she acquiesced to his demand to remain standing, her voice brimming with a sweet-tasting sort of venom.
Oh, how it disappointed her, to see him now as he surely must have been all along; his vulgarity now only made her certain that she had taken the correct path in attempting to secure a brighter future for her own Hei. She did not want to think how close she might have come to falling for the young man’s charms, and it pained her now to think how her daughter, as idealistic and naive as she was, remained tangled in his web.
“Was it? My greatest error, I mean,” Isethepru addressed his prior statement. The line of questioning was laced with caustic sincerity. “Do you keep me in mind always when you make decisions that will in no uncertain terms jeopardize the future of your Hei?” The line of questioning was laced with caustic sincerity. Isetheperu glanced over at her bowl of dates and moved to lift them in offering to her guest, resting her free hand atop the small stack of business missives which the fruits had been weighing down from the breeze, as if in emphasis of her point.
She waited a beat for Osorsen’s acceptance or refusal, before returning the bowl to her place and continuing, taking on a more businesslike tone.
“For the sake of your feet, then,” Isetheperu deadpanned, quirking her brow meaningfully at the floor beneath the towering man, “I’ll not dance around my meaning. You know -- everyone knows -- that I am the last of the true Fakhouri bloodline.”
Isetheperu leaned back to settle bodily against the cushions, folding her hands in front of her and gazing up at Osorsen as if she were delivering a lecture to a dilettante of the Pharaoh’s court. “This, you understand, means that if I were to marry my only child -- a daughter no less -- to another Hei, I might as well have written the epilogue of a thousand-year-old legacy myself. Hatshepsut’s son, if she had one at all, would always have any possible allegiance to Hei Fakhouri overshadowed by their father’s Hei. Whatever I left behind with my passing would be absorbed by another dynasty as if it had never existed at all.”
“So how far would you go, Sirdar H’Moghadem, to prevent the extinction of your family? Tell me you would not do anything and everything within your power to prevent a millennium’s worth of your ancestor’s shame from bearing down on you.”
Isetheperu’s grew more bitter the more she spoke until she felt herself returning to the verge of hurling her words at the man. She stopped short of line of confrontation, taking a deep breath and easing her eyes out across the calm pool of water beyond her patio. It reflected the many stars above, and in her mind’s eye, Isetheperu could imagine them as all the men and women of Hei Fakhouri, watching, cold and distant. Judging. A stiff night breeze sent a shiver across the back of her neck.
When she spoke next, she was devoid of the passion that had come to tinge her words. “The only way Hei Fakhouri has a future is with Iahotep as Pharaoh.”
Isetheperu worked her jaw at the general’s defiance, the anger barely contained on the tip of her tongue stilling as she met his increasingly cool gaze with her own heated glare. Eyes locked like two wildcats vying silently for dominance, the queen dowager allowed silence to fall between the two of them.
After several uncomfortable seconds, Isetheperu broke her steely expression with a well-practiced smile, a forced pleasantry she had forced herself to endure many a time, though only recently in Osorsen’s company.
“If it makes you feel better,” she acquiesced to his demand to remain standing, her voice brimming with a sweet-tasting sort of venom.
Oh, how it disappointed her, to see him now as he surely must have been all along; his vulgarity now only made her certain that she had taken the correct path in attempting to secure a brighter future for her own Hei. She did not want to think how close she might have come to falling for the young man’s charms, and it pained her now to think how her daughter, as idealistic and naive as she was, remained tangled in his web.
“Was it? My greatest error, I mean,” Isethepru addressed his prior statement. The line of questioning was laced with caustic sincerity. “Do you keep me in mind always when you make decisions that will in no uncertain terms jeopardize the future of your Hei?” The line of questioning was laced with caustic sincerity. Isetheperu glanced over at her bowl of dates and moved to lift them in offering to her guest, resting her free hand atop the small stack of business missives which the fruits had been weighing down from the breeze, as if in emphasis of her point.
She waited a beat for Osorsen’s acceptance or refusal, before returning the bowl to her place and continuing, taking on a more businesslike tone.
“For the sake of your feet, then,” Isetheperu deadpanned, quirking her brow meaningfully at the floor beneath the towering man, “I’ll not dance around my meaning. You know -- everyone knows -- that I am the last of the true Fakhouri bloodline.”
Isetheperu leaned back to settle bodily against the cushions, folding her hands in front of her and gazing up at Osorsen as if she were delivering a lecture to a dilettante of the Pharaoh’s court. “This, you understand, means that if I were to marry my only child -- a daughter no less -- to another Hei, I might as well have written the epilogue of a thousand-year-old legacy myself. Hatshepsut’s son, if she had one at all, would always have any possible allegiance to Hei Fakhouri overshadowed by their father’s Hei. Whatever I left behind with my passing would be absorbed by another dynasty as if it had never existed at all.”
“So how far would you go, Sirdar H’Moghadem, to prevent the extinction of your family? Tell me you would not do anything and everything within your power to prevent a millennium’s worth of your ancestor’s shame from bearing down on you.”
Isetheperu’s grew more bitter the more she spoke until she felt herself returning to the verge of hurling her words at the man. She stopped short of line of confrontation, taking a deep breath and easing her eyes out across the calm pool of water beyond her patio. It reflected the many stars above, and in her mind’s eye, Isetheperu could imagine them as all the men and women of Hei Fakhouri, watching, cold and distant. Judging. A stiff night breeze sent a shiver across the back of her neck.
When she spoke next, she was devoid of the passion that had come to tinge her words. “The only way Hei Fakhouri has a future is with Iahotep as Pharaoh.”
"You are a fool. And you do not yet understand the error you have made."
The dowager's explanation for why she had ruined her daughter's happiness, his own, why she had chosen someone like Iahotep to take the post as Pharaoh, it was all so shallow. So entirely the idea of a desperate woman who hadn't thought things through. If he had been allowed to marry Hatshepsut their children would have been able to continue family lines, one son to Hei Fakhouri and one to Hei Moghadam. All she had needed to do was wait, and if how quickly Hatshepsut had fallen pregnant was any indication she would not have needed to wait long.
Instead she had cursed the entire country on behalf of a house that would be dead no matter what.
"If you think Iahotep would ever give consideration to your house, allegiance in any way now that he holds his own power, you will be the one most broken by this. A man like that does not understand what we do. He only knows how to think of himself, not for the betterment of a people."
Osorsen's voice was cold, emotionless now as he realized the woman he had looked up to as a second mother all of his life was just a simple creature of shallow existence after all. It wasn't good enough to yell, to threaten any longer. She would be too dull to see what she had done until it was too late. Perhaps it would have been kinder to snap her neck like the instinctual part of him was saying he should. Instead the general simply shook his head, eyes with a hint of pity that she did not deserve taking her in one last time.
"Egypt's destruction is on your hands. The blood spilled is your curse. From this day I and mine are no ally of yours."
He didn't bow, didn't give any sign of courtesy or respect as he turned his back on her fully, leaving without bothering to shut the door behind him as he left her behind with her mistakes laid bare at her feet.
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"You are a fool. And you do not yet understand the error you have made."
The dowager's explanation for why she had ruined her daughter's happiness, his own, why she had chosen someone like Iahotep to take the post as Pharaoh, it was all so shallow. So entirely the idea of a desperate woman who hadn't thought things through. If he had been allowed to marry Hatshepsut their children would have been able to continue family lines, one son to Hei Fakhouri and one to Hei Moghadam. All she had needed to do was wait, and if how quickly Hatshepsut had fallen pregnant was any indication she would not have needed to wait long.
Instead she had cursed the entire country on behalf of a house that would be dead no matter what.
"If you think Iahotep would ever give consideration to your house, allegiance in any way now that he holds his own power, you will be the one most broken by this. A man like that does not understand what we do. He only knows how to think of himself, not for the betterment of a people."
Osorsen's voice was cold, emotionless now as he realized the woman he had looked up to as a second mother all of his life was just a simple creature of shallow existence after all. It wasn't good enough to yell, to threaten any longer. She would be too dull to see what she had done until it was too late. Perhaps it would have been kinder to snap her neck like the instinctual part of him was saying he should. Instead the general simply shook his head, eyes with a hint of pity that she did not deserve taking her in one last time.
"Egypt's destruction is on your hands. The blood spilled is your curse. From this day I and mine are no ally of yours."
He didn't bow, didn't give any sign of courtesy or respect as he turned his back on her fully, leaving without bothering to shut the door behind him as he left her behind with her mistakes laid bare at her feet.
"You are a fool. And you do not yet understand the error you have made."
The dowager's explanation for why she had ruined her daughter's happiness, his own, why she had chosen someone like Iahotep to take the post as Pharaoh, it was all so shallow. So entirely the idea of a desperate woman who hadn't thought things through. If he had been allowed to marry Hatshepsut their children would have been able to continue family lines, one son to Hei Fakhouri and one to Hei Moghadam. All she had needed to do was wait, and if how quickly Hatshepsut had fallen pregnant was any indication she would not have needed to wait long.
Instead she had cursed the entire country on behalf of a house that would be dead no matter what.
"If you think Iahotep would ever give consideration to your house, allegiance in any way now that he holds his own power, you will be the one most broken by this. A man like that does not understand what we do. He only knows how to think of himself, not for the betterment of a people."
Osorsen's voice was cold, emotionless now as he realized the woman he had looked up to as a second mother all of his life was just a simple creature of shallow existence after all. It wasn't good enough to yell, to threaten any longer. She would be too dull to see what she had done until it was too late. Perhaps it would have been kinder to snap her neck like the instinctual part of him was saying he should. Instead the general simply shook his head, eyes with a hint of pity that she did not deserve taking her in one last time.
"Egypt's destruction is on your hands. The blood spilled is your curse. From this day I and mine are no ally of yours."
He didn't bow, didn't give any sign of courtesy or respect as he turned his back on her fully, leaving without bothering to shut the door behind him as he left her behind with her mistakes laid bare at her feet.