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“Of course, Your Evening Radiance. It would be my pleasure and I shall have them delivered to the palace immediately,” Iaheru curtsied, a distinct sadness washed over her face if one were to look past a partygoer’s mandated enjoyment. Although no one appreciated a snob, Iaheru wasn’t above a stoic silence, she was glad the Queen spoke to her and her words seemed to fall on receptive ears. To speak to power was an honor of itself, but Iaheru desired to have power listen.
When introduced to Skylla, Iaheru tilted her head ever so slightly. Egyptians that behaved like Greeks pecuralily surrounded the Queen. First Zoser, now Skylla, and likely countless others that Iaheru never saw. How strange it was, in the middle of a war, albeit a childish war, to have nobility court among Greeks. How strange it was to prefer Greeks to the grandest kingdom ever materialized and defined by materialism. Iaheru was raised from the dirts of the Nile and Anubis willing, her last visions of the Earth would be overlooking the Nile at the pinnacle of her influence, overlooking the slips, the banks where she chased frogs and charted the stars, alone. Sailing the river to the afterlife would be no obstacle, she only hoped the afterlife was like an equant chart.
In the middle of a pleasantry, reverently listening to the Queen, was when the liquid hit her hemlines and doused the soles of copper beaded sandals. They’d be insufferably sticky on the walk home. “Oh my,” Iaheru gritted her teeth, seeing red. In all of her years of service to Isetheperu, although unbound, she had never thought to harm her mistress or partake in petty insolence. And to perpetuate cruelty on such a tragic woman? Iaheru pursed her lips, her shoulders growing rigid and taught. Calmly, she walked to the slave who was having difficulty maneuvering a crowd, evident that this one was not accustomed to court nor obedience. Iaheru’s familiarity cut through the throngs of wily noblewomen in their goblets.
Manicured hands, painted in gold and lined in ring snatch the slave by the hair from behind, staggering the woman and sending her to the tile. “That’s enough,” Iaheru growled softly to the slave, eyeing the periphery of the court as women cleared from the spectacle. “Your Queen has spoken!” She projected retainers and servants with a slight echo off the stone. Iaheru was perturbed that she, one of the most prominent women in Egypt without royal blood, had to manage an unruly slave on a day like today.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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“Of course, Your Evening Radiance. It would be my pleasure and I shall have them delivered to the palace immediately,” Iaheru curtsied, a distinct sadness washed over her face if one were to look past a partygoer’s mandated enjoyment. Although no one appreciated a snob, Iaheru wasn’t above a stoic silence, she was glad the Queen spoke to her and her words seemed to fall on receptive ears. To speak to power was an honor of itself, but Iaheru desired to have power listen.
When introduced to Skylla, Iaheru tilted her head ever so slightly. Egyptians that behaved like Greeks pecuralily surrounded the Queen. First Zoser, now Skylla, and likely countless others that Iaheru never saw. How strange it was, in the middle of a war, albeit a childish war, to have nobility court among Greeks. How strange it was to prefer Greeks to the grandest kingdom ever materialized and defined by materialism. Iaheru was raised from the dirts of the Nile and Anubis willing, her last visions of the Earth would be overlooking the Nile at the pinnacle of her influence, overlooking the slips, the banks where she chased frogs and charted the stars, alone. Sailing the river to the afterlife would be no obstacle, she only hoped the afterlife was like an equant chart.
In the middle of a pleasantry, reverently listening to the Queen, was when the liquid hit her hemlines and doused the soles of copper beaded sandals. They’d be insufferably sticky on the walk home. “Oh my,” Iaheru gritted her teeth, seeing red. In all of her years of service to Isetheperu, although unbound, she had never thought to harm her mistress or partake in petty insolence. And to perpetuate cruelty on such a tragic woman? Iaheru pursed her lips, her shoulders growing rigid and taught. Calmly, she walked to the slave who was having difficulty maneuvering a crowd, evident that this one was not accustomed to court nor obedience. Iaheru’s familiarity cut through the throngs of wily noblewomen in their goblets.
Manicured hands, painted in gold and lined in ring snatch the slave by the hair from behind, staggering the woman and sending her to the tile. “That’s enough,” Iaheru growled softly to the slave, eyeing the periphery of the court as women cleared from the spectacle. “Your Queen has spoken!” She projected retainers and servants with a slight echo off the stone. Iaheru was perturbed that she, one of the most prominent women in Egypt without royal blood, had to manage an unruly slave on a day like today.
“Of course, Your Evening Radiance. It would be my pleasure and I shall have them delivered to the palace immediately,” Iaheru curtsied, a distinct sadness washed over her face if one were to look past a partygoer’s mandated enjoyment. Although no one appreciated a snob, Iaheru wasn’t above a stoic silence, she was glad the Queen spoke to her and her words seemed to fall on receptive ears. To speak to power was an honor of itself, but Iaheru desired to have power listen.
When introduced to Skylla, Iaheru tilted her head ever so slightly. Egyptians that behaved like Greeks pecuralily surrounded the Queen. First Zoser, now Skylla, and likely countless others that Iaheru never saw. How strange it was, in the middle of a war, albeit a childish war, to have nobility court among Greeks. How strange it was to prefer Greeks to the grandest kingdom ever materialized and defined by materialism. Iaheru was raised from the dirts of the Nile and Anubis willing, her last visions of the Earth would be overlooking the Nile at the pinnacle of her influence, overlooking the slips, the banks where she chased frogs and charted the stars, alone. Sailing the river to the afterlife would be no obstacle, she only hoped the afterlife was like an equant chart.
In the middle of a pleasantry, reverently listening to the Queen, was when the liquid hit her hemlines and doused the soles of copper beaded sandals. They’d be insufferably sticky on the walk home. “Oh my,” Iaheru gritted her teeth, seeing red. In all of her years of service to Isetheperu, although unbound, she had never thought to harm her mistress or partake in petty insolence. And to perpetuate cruelty on such a tragic woman? Iaheru pursed her lips, her shoulders growing rigid and taught. Calmly, she walked to the slave who was having difficulty maneuvering a crowd, evident that this one was not accustomed to court nor obedience. Iaheru’s familiarity cut through the throngs of wily noblewomen in their goblets.
Manicured hands, painted in gold and lined in ring snatch the slave by the hair from behind, staggering the woman and sending her to the tile. “That’s enough,” Iaheru growled softly to the slave, eyeing the periphery of the court as women cleared from the spectacle. “Your Queen has spoken!” She projected retainers and servants with a slight echo off the stone. Iaheru was perturbed that she, one of the most prominent women in Egypt without royal blood, had to manage an unruly slave on a day like today.
Nia was having a pleasant chat with Safiya when she heard the commotion, face furrowed in a frown as she looked at her friend, then looked back the way they came. As if reaching some silent accord, she and the Queen’s retainer both rushed back toward the area where the others lingered, curious to see what all the fuss was about.
Upon arriving at the scene, Nia clapped her hands over her mouth, wide-eyed with horror as she took in the sight of the Queen dripping with some sweet, sticky liquid that smelled strongly of apples. What in the world had happened while she and the youngest member of Hei Haikkadad had been wandering the twisting pathways of the Palace gardens? Had this been done maliciously or was it simply an accident?
By the time they reached her, Hatshepsut was calling for the removal of a certain slave, leading Nia to believe she was the one responsible for the rather abrupt ruination of the Queen’s wardrobe. Her Evening Radiance went on to temporarily excuse herself from the gathering so she could change, leaving none other but Iaheru in charge.
Her mother, on the other hand, had the offending slave in a claw-like grasp, Nia wincing in sympathy for the girl. She’d been in that vice grip of her mother’s before, and it was not a position she envied anyone. But then, she’d never spilled anything on a Queen before. She’d hazard to guess the woman likely deserved it.
But now what? With the Queen departing from the gathering she’d called and her recently disgraced mother now at the head of the event, the dynamic of the scene was sure to shift. Undoubtedly, there were those present who would take offense to the Sirdsett being put in charge, especially when all the whispers that surrounded her lately seemed to be nothing more than venom-dripping vitriol over a night in which Iaheru had had no choice. While she and her mother were certainly not the image of a loving relationship, she wanted nothing more than to silence those poisonous whispers, if not for her sake, then for Iaheru’s. She did not care what others said about her or her family, not really. She knew the truth, and the callous opinions of others fell on deaf ears. But she knew how much it wounded her mother, even if she would never say so. And no matter how angry the woman made her, it was still something that, deep down, she couldn’t bear to see.
So, surprising even herself, she walked over to where Iaheru held the slave and cleared her throat, prepared to offer her help in a show of familial unity. “Do you know who she belongs to?” she asked, her voice calm and polite, looking first at her mother and then at the others gathered. “Do any of you?” Shrugging, she held out a hand in offer. “I can escort her there so that you needn’t worry about it. Her Evening Radiance has left you in charge, and I’m sure you’d be better served here than dealing with some unruly girl’s fate.”
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Nia was having a pleasant chat with Safiya when she heard the commotion, face furrowed in a frown as she looked at her friend, then looked back the way they came. As if reaching some silent accord, she and the Queen’s retainer both rushed back toward the area where the others lingered, curious to see what all the fuss was about.
Upon arriving at the scene, Nia clapped her hands over her mouth, wide-eyed with horror as she took in the sight of the Queen dripping with some sweet, sticky liquid that smelled strongly of apples. What in the world had happened while she and the youngest member of Hei Haikkadad had been wandering the twisting pathways of the Palace gardens? Had this been done maliciously or was it simply an accident?
By the time they reached her, Hatshepsut was calling for the removal of a certain slave, leading Nia to believe she was the one responsible for the rather abrupt ruination of the Queen’s wardrobe. Her Evening Radiance went on to temporarily excuse herself from the gathering so she could change, leaving none other but Iaheru in charge.
Her mother, on the other hand, had the offending slave in a claw-like grasp, Nia wincing in sympathy for the girl. She’d been in that vice grip of her mother’s before, and it was not a position she envied anyone. But then, she’d never spilled anything on a Queen before. She’d hazard to guess the woman likely deserved it.
But now what? With the Queen departing from the gathering she’d called and her recently disgraced mother now at the head of the event, the dynamic of the scene was sure to shift. Undoubtedly, there were those present who would take offense to the Sirdsett being put in charge, especially when all the whispers that surrounded her lately seemed to be nothing more than venom-dripping vitriol over a night in which Iaheru had had no choice. While she and her mother were certainly not the image of a loving relationship, she wanted nothing more than to silence those poisonous whispers, if not for her sake, then for Iaheru’s. She did not care what others said about her or her family, not really. She knew the truth, and the callous opinions of others fell on deaf ears. But she knew how much it wounded her mother, even if she would never say so. And no matter how angry the woman made her, it was still something that, deep down, she couldn’t bear to see.
So, surprising even herself, she walked over to where Iaheru held the slave and cleared her throat, prepared to offer her help in a show of familial unity. “Do you know who she belongs to?” she asked, her voice calm and polite, looking first at her mother and then at the others gathered. “Do any of you?” Shrugging, she held out a hand in offer. “I can escort her there so that you needn’t worry about it. Her Evening Radiance has left you in charge, and I’m sure you’d be better served here than dealing with some unruly girl’s fate.”
Nia was having a pleasant chat with Safiya when she heard the commotion, face furrowed in a frown as she looked at her friend, then looked back the way they came. As if reaching some silent accord, she and the Queen’s retainer both rushed back toward the area where the others lingered, curious to see what all the fuss was about.
Upon arriving at the scene, Nia clapped her hands over her mouth, wide-eyed with horror as she took in the sight of the Queen dripping with some sweet, sticky liquid that smelled strongly of apples. What in the world had happened while she and the youngest member of Hei Haikkadad had been wandering the twisting pathways of the Palace gardens? Had this been done maliciously or was it simply an accident?
By the time they reached her, Hatshepsut was calling for the removal of a certain slave, leading Nia to believe she was the one responsible for the rather abrupt ruination of the Queen’s wardrobe. Her Evening Radiance went on to temporarily excuse herself from the gathering so she could change, leaving none other but Iaheru in charge.
Her mother, on the other hand, had the offending slave in a claw-like grasp, Nia wincing in sympathy for the girl. She’d been in that vice grip of her mother’s before, and it was not a position she envied anyone. But then, she’d never spilled anything on a Queen before. She’d hazard to guess the woman likely deserved it.
But now what? With the Queen departing from the gathering she’d called and her recently disgraced mother now at the head of the event, the dynamic of the scene was sure to shift. Undoubtedly, there were those present who would take offense to the Sirdsett being put in charge, especially when all the whispers that surrounded her lately seemed to be nothing more than venom-dripping vitriol over a night in which Iaheru had had no choice. While she and her mother were certainly not the image of a loving relationship, she wanted nothing more than to silence those poisonous whispers, if not for her sake, then for Iaheru’s. She did not care what others said about her or her family, not really. She knew the truth, and the callous opinions of others fell on deaf ears. But she knew how much it wounded her mother, even if she would never say so. And no matter how angry the woman made her, it was still something that, deep down, she couldn’t bear to see.
So, surprising even herself, she walked over to where Iaheru held the slave and cleared her throat, prepared to offer her help in a show of familial unity. “Do you know who she belongs to?” she asked, her voice calm and polite, looking first at her mother and then at the others gathered. “Do any of you?” Shrugging, she held out a hand in offer. “I can escort her there so that you needn’t worry about it. Her Evening Radiance has left you in charge, and I’m sure you’d be better served here than dealing with some unruly girl’s fate.”
Anastasia of the Fallen Star had, up until this day, lacked a reason for joining the nobility in the Evening Star Palace. She found it tasteful to fashion her legend after the place's name, finding the reverence with which the Egyptians held to the sky and its beautiful constellations something she could capitalize on. She lacked foreknowledge of the great Egyptian Gods, mighty deities that lorded over the people of this nation. While the bard relinquished her place in Greece (for however long that lasted for), she did not forget due propriety for the deities responsible for the perpetuation of her own people. So, she wove her myths and fell from the sky, content with everything she had made for herself in the interim. It was a a lovely thought, to consider the idea that all of the men would hold their meeting in court to do with war as the kingdom's women thought on other matters.
Anastasia did not relish in being out of the know, for her nature as a storyteller sought voracious knowledge of the world. However, it was not her place. Egypt was not her place. And she was content to keep that so. Instead, the star-child Anastasia dressed for the court and let all extraneous thought slide from her mind. The thought to wear an archaic dress, something wrought from the olden ages of Egyptian culture and twisted to fit her particular interests. The beads of her dress began at her waist, tightly coiled about her hips and looser along her legs to allow her movement. Simple beads were accentuated with opal, the gemstone perfectly matching her striking eyes. Her shoulders held straps that were thick enough to cover her breasts and keep the rest bare. However, Anastasia bathed in white linen, a large shawl that shrouded her shoulders and offered a cowl for her to protect her face from the sky. Beaded opal accented this garment in turn and holes were cut in the cloth in order to house her arms.
When Anastasia entered the those exotic gardens, she was left in a gasp. Beauty existed all around her, but there was beauty in each face that she saw in the court. Most were Egyptian native, courtiers and people that she very well should know. However, she hadn't taken an opportunity to introduce herself. A vibrant smile wore upon the face of the fallen star, and a languid pace set her upon an empty recline. The politics of Egypt meant nothing to Anastasia, but she was here to record and recount. The nature of a bard was to entertain, but to inform was a power not lost upon her, as well. She offered a vibrant smile to each of the women speaking. She was not keen to interrupt, but there was little option but for her to do so.
"My Queen," she began, bringing herself to a curtsy that stretched the fibres of her dress. Of course she could see the swollen belly of the monarch, the impending child and heir to all of Egypt's accolade in the future. She felt a sense of awe in the idea of bearing a child in tandem with a deep relief that it was not her doing so. She could imagine the stretch marks forming on the queen's bronzed flesh and it spoke of pains and labours that she had no business indulging in. She kept a mind to seek out more of that blessed contraceptive tea when she left this place, but those thoughts were cut off by the presence of another Greek.
Skylla might not see the traits of a Greek within Anastasia, or she might yet. Though, the hood that covered some of her features made it difficult either way. But certainly, the fallen star saw the signs in her. She raised her eyebrows, both a deep curiosity and a fervent confusion laced with one another as she noticed the Greek woman asking of the Queen her status of health. Did the queen have a Greek physician?
How interesting... she mused before finding a familiar face in the midst. Neithotep H'Sheifa, the sister of Anastasia's delightful noble plaything, Akhenaten. The idea of approaching her was staunch within her thoughts, but the matter dissolved immediately when the queen was doused by a servant and that poor soul did her utmost to run away. Anastasia physically recoiled at the idea of the slave's punishment, all too familiar with the brutalizing hands of a beaten servant. Her fingers balled up into fists in a moment of staunch anger before she collected herself and allowed her gaze to follow the queen out the door.
"That was... something. I hope that my presence is welcome, ladies of the court. I am Anastasia of the Fallen Star, sharer of fables and teller of truths. If you'll allow me, I'll merely spectate and record as the beautiful women of the court decide their address to what's happening."
With that, the bard offered a grand smile, a curtsy, then shooed herself as quickly as she could to the recline she'd picked out earlier.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Anastasia of the Fallen Star had, up until this day, lacked a reason for joining the nobility in the Evening Star Palace. She found it tasteful to fashion her legend after the place's name, finding the reverence with which the Egyptians held to the sky and its beautiful constellations something she could capitalize on. She lacked foreknowledge of the great Egyptian Gods, mighty deities that lorded over the people of this nation. While the bard relinquished her place in Greece (for however long that lasted for), she did not forget due propriety for the deities responsible for the perpetuation of her own people. So, she wove her myths and fell from the sky, content with everything she had made for herself in the interim. It was a a lovely thought, to consider the idea that all of the men would hold their meeting in court to do with war as the kingdom's women thought on other matters.
Anastasia did not relish in being out of the know, for her nature as a storyteller sought voracious knowledge of the world. However, it was not her place. Egypt was not her place. And she was content to keep that so. Instead, the star-child Anastasia dressed for the court and let all extraneous thought slide from her mind. The thought to wear an archaic dress, something wrought from the olden ages of Egyptian culture and twisted to fit her particular interests. The beads of her dress began at her waist, tightly coiled about her hips and looser along her legs to allow her movement. Simple beads were accentuated with opal, the gemstone perfectly matching her striking eyes. Her shoulders held straps that were thick enough to cover her breasts and keep the rest bare. However, Anastasia bathed in white linen, a large shawl that shrouded her shoulders and offered a cowl for her to protect her face from the sky. Beaded opal accented this garment in turn and holes were cut in the cloth in order to house her arms.
When Anastasia entered the those exotic gardens, she was left in a gasp. Beauty existed all around her, but there was beauty in each face that she saw in the court. Most were Egyptian native, courtiers and people that she very well should know. However, she hadn't taken an opportunity to introduce herself. A vibrant smile wore upon the face of the fallen star, and a languid pace set her upon an empty recline. The politics of Egypt meant nothing to Anastasia, but she was here to record and recount. The nature of a bard was to entertain, but to inform was a power not lost upon her, as well. She offered a vibrant smile to each of the women speaking. She was not keen to interrupt, but there was little option but for her to do so.
"My Queen," she began, bringing herself to a curtsy that stretched the fibres of her dress. Of course she could see the swollen belly of the monarch, the impending child and heir to all of Egypt's accolade in the future. She felt a sense of awe in the idea of bearing a child in tandem with a deep relief that it was not her doing so. She could imagine the stretch marks forming on the queen's bronzed flesh and it spoke of pains and labours that she had no business indulging in. She kept a mind to seek out more of that blessed contraceptive tea when she left this place, but those thoughts were cut off by the presence of another Greek.
Skylla might not see the traits of a Greek within Anastasia, or she might yet. Though, the hood that covered some of her features made it difficult either way. But certainly, the fallen star saw the signs in her. She raised her eyebrows, both a deep curiosity and a fervent confusion laced with one another as she noticed the Greek woman asking of the Queen her status of health. Did the queen have a Greek physician?
How interesting... she mused before finding a familiar face in the midst. Neithotep H'Sheifa, the sister of Anastasia's delightful noble plaything, Akhenaten. The idea of approaching her was staunch within her thoughts, but the matter dissolved immediately when the queen was doused by a servant and that poor soul did her utmost to run away. Anastasia physically recoiled at the idea of the slave's punishment, all too familiar with the brutalizing hands of a beaten servant. Her fingers balled up into fists in a moment of staunch anger before she collected herself and allowed her gaze to follow the queen out the door.
"That was... something. I hope that my presence is welcome, ladies of the court. I am Anastasia of the Fallen Star, sharer of fables and teller of truths. If you'll allow me, I'll merely spectate and record as the beautiful women of the court decide their address to what's happening."
With that, the bard offered a grand smile, a curtsy, then shooed herself as quickly as she could to the recline she'd picked out earlier.
Anastasia of the Fallen Star had, up until this day, lacked a reason for joining the nobility in the Evening Star Palace. She found it tasteful to fashion her legend after the place's name, finding the reverence with which the Egyptians held to the sky and its beautiful constellations something she could capitalize on. She lacked foreknowledge of the great Egyptian Gods, mighty deities that lorded over the people of this nation. While the bard relinquished her place in Greece (for however long that lasted for), she did not forget due propriety for the deities responsible for the perpetuation of her own people. So, she wove her myths and fell from the sky, content with everything she had made for herself in the interim. It was a a lovely thought, to consider the idea that all of the men would hold their meeting in court to do with war as the kingdom's women thought on other matters.
Anastasia did not relish in being out of the know, for her nature as a storyteller sought voracious knowledge of the world. However, it was not her place. Egypt was not her place. And she was content to keep that so. Instead, the star-child Anastasia dressed for the court and let all extraneous thought slide from her mind. The thought to wear an archaic dress, something wrought from the olden ages of Egyptian culture and twisted to fit her particular interests. The beads of her dress began at her waist, tightly coiled about her hips and looser along her legs to allow her movement. Simple beads were accentuated with opal, the gemstone perfectly matching her striking eyes. Her shoulders held straps that were thick enough to cover her breasts and keep the rest bare. However, Anastasia bathed in white linen, a large shawl that shrouded her shoulders and offered a cowl for her to protect her face from the sky. Beaded opal accented this garment in turn and holes were cut in the cloth in order to house her arms.
When Anastasia entered the those exotic gardens, she was left in a gasp. Beauty existed all around her, but there was beauty in each face that she saw in the court. Most were Egyptian native, courtiers and people that she very well should know. However, she hadn't taken an opportunity to introduce herself. A vibrant smile wore upon the face of the fallen star, and a languid pace set her upon an empty recline. The politics of Egypt meant nothing to Anastasia, but she was here to record and recount. The nature of a bard was to entertain, but to inform was a power not lost upon her, as well. She offered a vibrant smile to each of the women speaking. She was not keen to interrupt, but there was little option but for her to do so.
"My Queen," she began, bringing herself to a curtsy that stretched the fibres of her dress. Of course she could see the swollen belly of the monarch, the impending child and heir to all of Egypt's accolade in the future. She felt a sense of awe in the idea of bearing a child in tandem with a deep relief that it was not her doing so. She could imagine the stretch marks forming on the queen's bronzed flesh and it spoke of pains and labours that she had no business indulging in. She kept a mind to seek out more of that blessed contraceptive tea when she left this place, but those thoughts were cut off by the presence of another Greek.
Skylla might not see the traits of a Greek within Anastasia, or she might yet. Though, the hood that covered some of her features made it difficult either way. But certainly, the fallen star saw the signs in her. She raised her eyebrows, both a deep curiosity and a fervent confusion laced with one another as she noticed the Greek woman asking of the Queen her status of health. Did the queen have a Greek physician?
How interesting... she mused before finding a familiar face in the midst. Neithotep H'Sheifa, the sister of Anastasia's delightful noble plaything, Akhenaten. The idea of approaching her was staunch within her thoughts, but the matter dissolved immediately when the queen was doused by a servant and that poor soul did her utmost to run away. Anastasia physically recoiled at the idea of the slave's punishment, all too familiar with the brutalizing hands of a beaten servant. Her fingers balled up into fists in a moment of staunch anger before she collected herself and allowed her gaze to follow the queen out the door.
"That was... something. I hope that my presence is welcome, ladies of the court. I am Anastasia of the Fallen Star, sharer of fables and teller of truths. If you'll allow me, I'll merely spectate and record as the beautiful women of the court decide their address to what's happening."
With that, the bard offered a grand smile, a curtsy, then shooed herself as quickly as she could to the recline she'd picked out earlier.
Tahena was not in attendance on this occasion - she was not one of the queen's own slaves, after all, though she had her own plans turning in the back of her mind. However, she was an extra pair of hands, and being at least capable of avoiding the majority of the Pharaoh's wrath the majority of the time lent her advice a certain authority on what qualified as quality. She might not be doing anything more important then carrying chilled water out to where the palace eunuchs and the queen's own slaves could grab it to refill the guests' cups, but she had been the one to ask whether anyone was making sure the pitchers were replaced frequently before they got too warm. It was a level of attention to detail that Hatshepsut would not complain about missing, and that might have annoyed the overseers in charge of making sure everything behind the scenes went smoothly might have bristled at if she wasn't more than willing to step in and do the extra work herself, as well as anything else she was asked in the moments in between. Tahena was cultivating a reputation as someone who didn't open her mouth unless she was sure her advice was good, and didn't make an appearance anywhere others were working unless she was helping. It wouldn't do at all for the other slaves here to resent her. She'd engaged in enough petty backstabbing herself to have no interest in being on the receiving end of it.
So it was therefore that she was found along the way as the queen left her gathering of ladies, carrying the very thing her majesty was in need of. Serendipity. Genuinely, since she'd had nothing at all to do with the accident nor suspicion anything of the like might happen. She immediately changed course when the queen's attendant beckoned her. Hatshepsut was lacking the majority of her entourage; the other women must be off behind, dealing with whatever had just happened to leave their mistress in such a state. Obviously, she had not just managed to spill her own goblet on herself.
Should she speak, or not? Hatshepsut was very distinctly not Iahotep, but Tahena was still cautious. Giving voice to her concern, she decided quickly, would not be out of place. "Are you all right, Your Radience?" She did not ask what had happened. Idle curiosity was not becoming in a slave. Certainly not in the presence of those one was curious about.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Tahena was not in attendance on this occasion - she was not one of the queen's own slaves, after all, though she had her own plans turning in the back of her mind. However, she was an extra pair of hands, and being at least capable of avoiding the majority of the Pharaoh's wrath the majority of the time lent her advice a certain authority on what qualified as quality. She might not be doing anything more important then carrying chilled water out to where the palace eunuchs and the queen's own slaves could grab it to refill the guests' cups, but she had been the one to ask whether anyone was making sure the pitchers were replaced frequently before they got too warm. It was a level of attention to detail that Hatshepsut would not complain about missing, and that might have annoyed the overseers in charge of making sure everything behind the scenes went smoothly might have bristled at if she wasn't more than willing to step in and do the extra work herself, as well as anything else she was asked in the moments in between. Tahena was cultivating a reputation as someone who didn't open her mouth unless she was sure her advice was good, and didn't make an appearance anywhere others were working unless she was helping. It wouldn't do at all for the other slaves here to resent her. She'd engaged in enough petty backstabbing herself to have no interest in being on the receiving end of it.
So it was therefore that she was found along the way as the queen left her gathering of ladies, carrying the very thing her majesty was in need of. Serendipity. Genuinely, since she'd had nothing at all to do with the accident nor suspicion anything of the like might happen. She immediately changed course when the queen's attendant beckoned her. Hatshepsut was lacking the majority of her entourage; the other women must be off behind, dealing with whatever had just happened to leave their mistress in such a state. Obviously, she had not just managed to spill her own goblet on herself.
Should she speak, or not? Hatshepsut was very distinctly not Iahotep, but Tahena was still cautious. Giving voice to her concern, she decided quickly, would not be out of place. "Are you all right, Your Radience?" She did not ask what had happened. Idle curiosity was not becoming in a slave. Certainly not in the presence of those one was curious about.
Tahena was not in attendance on this occasion - she was not one of the queen's own slaves, after all, though she had her own plans turning in the back of her mind. However, she was an extra pair of hands, and being at least capable of avoiding the majority of the Pharaoh's wrath the majority of the time lent her advice a certain authority on what qualified as quality. She might not be doing anything more important then carrying chilled water out to where the palace eunuchs and the queen's own slaves could grab it to refill the guests' cups, but she had been the one to ask whether anyone was making sure the pitchers were replaced frequently before they got too warm. It was a level of attention to detail that Hatshepsut would not complain about missing, and that might have annoyed the overseers in charge of making sure everything behind the scenes went smoothly might have bristled at if she wasn't more than willing to step in and do the extra work herself, as well as anything else she was asked in the moments in between. Tahena was cultivating a reputation as someone who didn't open her mouth unless she was sure her advice was good, and didn't make an appearance anywhere others were working unless she was helping. It wouldn't do at all for the other slaves here to resent her. She'd engaged in enough petty backstabbing herself to have no interest in being on the receiving end of it.
So it was therefore that she was found along the way as the queen left her gathering of ladies, carrying the very thing her majesty was in need of. Serendipity. Genuinely, since she'd had nothing at all to do with the accident nor suspicion anything of the like might happen. She immediately changed course when the queen's attendant beckoned her. Hatshepsut was lacking the majority of her entourage; the other women must be off behind, dealing with whatever had just happened to leave their mistress in such a state. Obviously, she had not just managed to spill her own goblet on herself.
Should she speak, or not? Hatshepsut was very distinctly not Iahotep, but Tahena was still cautious. Giving voice to her concern, she decided quickly, would not be out of place. "Are you all right, Your Radience?" She did not ask what had happened. Idle curiosity was not becoming in a slave. Certainly not in the presence of those one was curious about.
It was almost as if everything had happened in slow motion. One moment, Skylla was turning to start up a quiet conversation with Sirdsett H'Sheifa, and the next her gaze caught the stumbling, struggling form of the servant who approached with apple wine. Even a woman such as Skylla could not hide the pure shock at what had transpired and left the queen soaked from head to toe... quite literally. Lips parted in stark alarm, Skylla moved to approach the queen, a protective instinct in her leading to her reaching for the young woman. She composed herself quickly, trying not to show her sheer irritation toward the servant and instead showing concern for her Evening Radiance. Skylla knew that very slight shift of her features meant that her stomach was rolling.
That had been something that the physician had been working on since she had first made her home in the Egyptian court. Not one to shy away from something that needed to be attended to, Skylla followed the queen out without sparing anyone else a single glance. Except for one young woman, whose eye she caught and then immediately cut away from. Another greek in the court? At least Skylla looked passable as an Egyptian. Her mother's Egyptian blood made sure of that, but this young girl was of immediate interest... as soon as she had ensured that the queen was well and not about to be ill.
Approaching Hatshepsut from behind, Skylla dared touch her, offering the queen her own arm in order to guide her back toward her chambers. "Are you well?" Skylla asked very quietly of her patient, hoping that the steadying, gentle touch might help to ease the queen's stomach in this moment. Give her something else to ground herself with her rather than the curtling scent of drying apple wine on her skin. "Would you like me to get my herbs and meet you back in your chambers before you return?" Skylla asked tentatively, her mind half on the queen and half on a few of the women back in the gardens. She even had half a mind to find the servant that had been dragged from service herself, if only to demonstrate how to properly carry a jug of wine.
Idiot girl.
Skylla had to bite back the irritation that trailed her. Every instance of Hatshepsut's morning sickness that returned was a mark against Skylla herself and the noose around her and Callidora's neck would only grow tighter as a result. When Tahena approached them, Skylla said absolutely nothing, fixing the servant girl with an expectant look. She would not speak for Hatshepsut, but she would also not leave her presence for fear of the queen devolving into sickness. Instead, she reached her other hand over to rest across the queen's hand on her arm, continuing to try and be the comforting presence she was constantly attempting to project.
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It was almost as if everything had happened in slow motion. One moment, Skylla was turning to start up a quiet conversation with Sirdsett H'Sheifa, and the next her gaze caught the stumbling, struggling form of the servant who approached with apple wine. Even a woman such as Skylla could not hide the pure shock at what had transpired and left the queen soaked from head to toe... quite literally. Lips parted in stark alarm, Skylla moved to approach the queen, a protective instinct in her leading to her reaching for the young woman. She composed herself quickly, trying not to show her sheer irritation toward the servant and instead showing concern for her Evening Radiance. Skylla knew that very slight shift of her features meant that her stomach was rolling.
That had been something that the physician had been working on since she had first made her home in the Egyptian court. Not one to shy away from something that needed to be attended to, Skylla followed the queen out without sparing anyone else a single glance. Except for one young woman, whose eye she caught and then immediately cut away from. Another greek in the court? At least Skylla looked passable as an Egyptian. Her mother's Egyptian blood made sure of that, but this young girl was of immediate interest... as soon as she had ensured that the queen was well and not about to be ill.
Approaching Hatshepsut from behind, Skylla dared touch her, offering the queen her own arm in order to guide her back toward her chambers. "Are you well?" Skylla asked very quietly of her patient, hoping that the steadying, gentle touch might help to ease the queen's stomach in this moment. Give her something else to ground herself with her rather than the curtling scent of drying apple wine on her skin. "Would you like me to get my herbs and meet you back in your chambers before you return?" Skylla asked tentatively, her mind half on the queen and half on a few of the women back in the gardens. She even had half a mind to find the servant that had been dragged from service herself, if only to demonstrate how to properly carry a jug of wine.
Idiot girl.
Skylla had to bite back the irritation that trailed her. Every instance of Hatshepsut's morning sickness that returned was a mark against Skylla herself and the noose around her and Callidora's neck would only grow tighter as a result. When Tahena approached them, Skylla said absolutely nothing, fixing the servant girl with an expectant look. She would not speak for Hatshepsut, but she would also not leave her presence for fear of the queen devolving into sickness. Instead, she reached her other hand over to rest across the queen's hand on her arm, continuing to try and be the comforting presence she was constantly attempting to project.
It was almost as if everything had happened in slow motion. One moment, Skylla was turning to start up a quiet conversation with Sirdsett H'Sheifa, and the next her gaze caught the stumbling, struggling form of the servant who approached with apple wine. Even a woman such as Skylla could not hide the pure shock at what had transpired and left the queen soaked from head to toe... quite literally. Lips parted in stark alarm, Skylla moved to approach the queen, a protective instinct in her leading to her reaching for the young woman. She composed herself quickly, trying not to show her sheer irritation toward the servant and instead showing concern for her Evening Radiance. Skylla knew that very slight shift of her features meant that her stomach was rolling.
That had been something that the physician had been working on since she had first made her home in the Egyptian court. Not one to shy away from something that needed to be attended to, Skylla followed the queen out without sparing anyone else a single glance. Except for one young woman, whose eye she caught and then immediately cut away from. Another greek in the court? At least Skylla looked passable as an Egyptian. Her mother's Egyptian blood made sure of that, but this young girl was of immediate interest... as soon as she had ensured that the queen was well and not about to be ill.
Approaching Hatshepsut from behind, Skylla dared touch her, offering the queen her own arm in order to guide her back toward her chambers. "Are you well?" Skylla asked very quietly of her patient, hoping that the steadying, gentle touch might help to ease the queen's stomach in this moment. Give her something else to ground herself with her rather than the curtling scent of drying apple wine on her skin. "Would you like me to get my herbs and meet you back in your chambers before you return?" Skylla asked tentatively, her mind half on the queen and half on a few of the women back in the gardens. She even had half a mind to find the servant that had been dragged from service herself, if only to demonstrate how to properly carry a jug of wine.
Idiot girl.
Skylla had to bite back the irritation that trailed her. Every instance of Hatshepsut's morning sickness that returned was a mark against Skylla herself and the noose around her and Callidora's neck would only grow tighter as a result. When Tahena approached them, Skylla said absolutely nothing, fixing the servant girl with an expectant look. She would not speak for Hatshepsut, but she would also not leave her presence for fear of the queen devolving into sickness. Instead, she reached her other hand over to rest across the queen's hand on her arm, continuing to try and be the comforting presence she was constantly attempting to project.
Gossip Ebony and Gold
"murmur murmur...."
The words are kept carefully at bay and pitched at a level that only the ears they were intended for can hear them. Without confirmed insult, there can be no confirmed punishment but the tone of the whispers of the servants is clear... The trip, the fall, the splash upon the Queen... This has happened before and servants have been warned. And yet still they disobey... Is the Queen losing control of her household staff? And if she cannot control her staff... how will she have any influence over her husband?
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The words are kept carefully at bay and pitched at a level that only the ears they were intended for can hear them. Without confirmed insult, there can be no confirmed punishment but the tone of the whispers of the servants is clear... The trip, the fall, the splash upon the Queen... This has happened before and servants have been warned. And yet still they disobey... Is the Queen losing control of her household staff? And if she cannot control her staff... how will she have any influence over her husband?
Gossip Ebony and Gold
"murmur murmur...."
The words are kept carefully at bay and pitched at a level that only the ears they were intended for can hear them. Without confirmed insult, there can be no confirmed punishment but the tone of the whispers of the servants is clear... The trip, the fall, the splash upon the Queen... This has happened before and servants have been warned. And yet still they disobey... Is the Queen losing control of her household staff? And if she cannot control her staff... how will she have any influence over her husband?
It was one of the reasons that Neithotep had always been such a close and dear friend, she knew the kind of questions that needed to be asked and also that sometimes Safiya would hide from her own darker emotions, no matter how stupid that might end up being.
Safiya nodded her head "I am content, the queen is a lovely and kind woman. At least she has been with me, I am worried a little bit about the whole baby thing - I don't know anything about that" she had no one that she could really even ask about it either. Neither she, her sister or any of the closest of her own kin had young children. Even if they had Safiya was not sure that their experiences would be able to compare with the queen of their whole Eygpt. But it was a problem that had no resolution.
Perhaps there would be the time that allowed her to figure it out but Neithotep didn't need to be worrying about how she was handling things "...oh? What's this... hmm, shall we try together?" it had not been a part that she had planned but that didn't mean that it was a bad thing.
In a lot of ways, having Neithotep actually made it an ideal experience, Safiya had always done everything with her friend and often her sister as well. So, a new adventure like this, even if it was only a drink seemed to be ideal for their enjoyment to be able to continue "What do you think of it?" she asked, wondering about the odd name, was it supposed to be a further amusement for the drink?
Once the drink was settled with she moved away slightly, not from Neithotep but allowing the space so that the formality that was necessary could be continued and expressed more completely. It was an interesting chance to see this side of her friend and Safiya was almost envious with the way that she was handling matters. Perhaps it was time for her to ask Neithotep about some lessons in figuring out to enhance her own political skills while she honed that acumen that actually allowed her to feel sure on her own footing.
After all, she was serving the queen she should really be able to act in such a mature and forthright manner. It was definitely one of her new goals in life. Shifting around a little bit, she moved closer to the queen. Just in case she might needed to be called upon.
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Check out their information page here.
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It was one of the reasons that Neithotep had always been such a close and dear friend, she knew the kind of questions that needed to be asked and also that sometimes Safiya would hide from her own darker emotions, no matter how stupid that might end up being.
Safiya nodded her head "I am content, the queen is a lovely and kind woman. At least she has been with me, I am worried a little bit about the whole baby thing - I don't know anything about that" she had no one that she could really even ask about it either. Neither she, her sister or any of the closest of her own kin had young children. Even if they had Safiya was not sure that their experiences would be able to compare with the queen of their whole Eygpt. But it was a problem that had no resolution.
Perhaps there would be the time that allowed her to figure it out but Neithotep didn't need to be worrying about how she was handling things "...oh? What's this... hmm, shall we try together?" it had not been a part that she had planned but that didn't mean that it was a bad thing.
In a lot of ways, having Neithotep actually made it an ideal experience, Safiya had always done everything with her friend and often her sister as well. So, a new adventure like this, even if it was only a drink seemed to be ideal for their enjoyment to be able to continue "What do you think of it?" she asked, wondering about the odd name, was it supposed to be a further amusement for the drink?
Once the drink was settled with she moved away slightly, not from Neithotep but allowing the space so that the formality that was necessary could be continued and expressed more completely. It was an interesting chance to see this side of her friend and Safiya was almost envious with the way that she was handling matters. Perhaps it was time for her to ask Neithotep about some lessons in figuring out to enhance her own political skills while she honed that acumen that actually allowed her to feel sure on her own footing.
After all, she was serving the queen she should really be able to act in such a mature and forthright manner. It was definitely one of her new goals in life. Shifting around a little bit, she moved closer to the queen. Just in case she might needed to be called upon.
It was one of the reasons that Neithotep had always been such a close and dear friend, she knew the kind of questions that needed to be asked and also that sometimes Safiya would hide from her own darker emotions, no matter how stupid that might end up being.
Safiya nodded her head "I am content, the queen is a lovely and kind woman. At least she has been with me, I am worried a little bit about the whole baby thing - I don't know anything about that" she had no one that she could really even ask about it either. Neither she, her sister or any of the closest of her own kin had young children. Even if they had Safiya was not sure that their experiences would be able to compare with the queen of their whole Eygpt. But it was a problem that had no resolution.
Perhaps there would be the time that allowed her to figure it out but Neithotep didn't need to be worrying about how she was handling things "...oh? What's this... hmm, shall we try together?" it had not been a part that she had planned but that didn't mean that it was a bad thing.
In a lot of ways, having Neithotep actually made it an ideal experience, Safiya had always done everything with her friend and often her sister as well. So, a new adventure like this, even if it was only a drink seemed to be ideal for their enjoyment to be able to continue "What do you think of it?" she asked, wondering about the odd name, was it supposed to be a further amusement for the drink?
Once the drink was settled with she moved away slightly, not from Neithotep but allowing the space so that the formality that was necessary could be continued and expressed more completely. It was an interesting chance to see this side of her friend and Safiya was almost envious with the way that she was handling matters. Perhaps it was time for her to ask Neithotep about some lessons in figuring out to enhance her own political skills while she honed that acumen that actually allowed her to feel sure on her own footing.
After all, she was serving the queen she should really be able to act in such a mature and forthright manner. It was definitely one of her new goals in life. Shifting around a little bit, she moved closer to the queen. Just in case she might needed to be called upon.
In Iaheru's rage, she had forsaken such generous opportunity gifted from the Queen herself. Her hand unfurls from the slave's braids. "Oh Nia, thank you for seeing clearly in my lapse of judgement. I need your keen ears sometimes." The mother praises, sincerely before her request. "If you'd be so kind, Neithotep, to take care of this? Perhaps take one of your sisters," a gentle hand reached to embrace a shawled shoulder, a motherly, sweet smile triumphing the sticky apples that fragranced the air.
As hostess, her shoulders rested back, and she began engaging the guests that gravitated towards her. As they rightfully should. Sutekh, though unclaimed, was the finest candidate for Pharaoh in the presence of a tyrant such as Iahotep. Irregardless, it was the son Isetheperu could never bear. Iaheru's mind fluttered to the Queen Mother, wondering when her mantle as hostess would be usurped by her former employer and inducter of young Iaheru to the noble court.
Iaheru cleared her throat, at the pinnacle of the room she bid the women in her even, low, songbird voice worn just for parties. "Your Majesty, Sirdsetts, Ladies, Servants, Slaves- we ought to pray to Hathor for the Queen's constitution. So young and so vibrant with her two lives she nurtures, and the many Egyptians that she carries so wisely." Iaheru didn't believe in Hathor. Iaheru thought the prospect was childish but yet she led the women in prayer and at its adjournment she hoped the party's palate had been adequately cleansed as women chattered amongst themselves. Smiling contently, this is the position she deserved, and her eyes fall to Isetheperu with the friendliest of smiles that would caustically inch away at your skin.
But yet, the women below her that would viciously tear down a queen? A mere child who was subscribed to an unfortunate, tragic fate? Iaheru was disgusted but not a stranger to the cruelty of the court. Loudly, to the first critic she heard with all the authority short of queeliness she could muster, "Don't you agree we have such a strong Queen? An intelligent Queen that would seek to bring us all together to prosper Egypt tenfold? We truly are lucky, aren't we?" Examples and precedent would be set here today if Iaheru could compel the pettiness of some women to tear down another, as she hypocritically did with Isetheperu... But that was a different moral height to climb another ocassion.
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Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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In Iaheru's rage, she had forsaken such generous opportunity gifted from the Queen herself. Her hand unfurls from the slave's braids. "Oh Nia, thank you for seeing clearly in my lapse of judgement. I need your keen ears sometimes." The mother praises, sincerely before her request. "If you'd be so kind, Neithotep, to take care of this? Perhaps take one of your sisters," a gentle hand reached to embrace a shawled shoulder, a motherly, sweet smile triumphing the sticky apples that fragranced the air.
As hostess, her shoulders rested back, and she began engaging the guests that gravitated towards her. As they rightfully should. Sutekh, though unclaimed, was the finest candidate for Pharaoh in the presence of a tyrant such as Iahotep. Irregardless, it was the son Isetheperu could never bear. Iaheru's mind fluttered to the Queen Mother, wondering when her mantle as hostess would be usurped by her former employer and inducter of young Iaheru to the noble court.
Iaheru cleared her throat, at the pinnacle of the room she bid the women in her even, low, songbird voice worn just for parties. "Your Majesty, Sirdsetts, Ladies, Servants, Slaves- we ought to pray to Hathor for the Queen's constitution. So young and so vibrant with her two lives she nurtures, and the many Egyptians that she carries so wisely." Iaheru didn't believe in Hathor. Iaheru thought the prospect was childish but yet she led the women in prayer and at its adjournment she hoped the party's palate had been adequately cleansed as women chattered amongst themselves. Smiling contently, this is the position she deserved, and her eyes fall to Isetheperu with the friendliest of smiles that would caustically inch away at your skin.
But yet, the women below her that would viciously tear down a queen? A mere child who was subscribed to an unfortunate, tragic fate? Iaheru was disgusted but not a stranger to the cruelty of the court. Loudly, to the first critic she heard with all the authority short of queeliness she could muster, "Don't you agree we have such a strong Queen? An intelligent Queen that would seek to bring us all together to prosper Egypt tenfold? We truly are lucky, aren't we?" Examples and precedent would be set here today if Iaheru could compel the pettiness of some women to tear down another, as she hypocritically did with Isetheperu... But that was a different moral height to climb another ocassion.
In Iaheru's rage, she had forsaken such generous opportunity gifted from the Queen herself. Her hand unfurls from the slave's braids. "Oh Nia, thank you for seeing clearly in my lapse of judgement. I need your keen ears sometimes." The mother praises, sincerely before her request. "If you'd be so kind, Neithotep, to take care of this? Perhaps take one of your sisters," a gentle hand reached to embrace a shawled shoulder, a motherly, sweet smile triumphing the sticky apples that fragranced the air.
As hostess, her shoulders rested back, and she began engaging the guests that gravitated towards her. As they rightfully should. Sutekh, though unclaimed, was the finest candidate for Pharaoh in the presence of a tyrant such as Iahotep. Irregardless, it was the son Isetheperu could never bear. Iaheru's mind fluttered to the Queen Mother, wondering when her mantle as hostess would be usurped by her former employer and inducter of young Iaheru to the noble court.
Iaheru cleared her throat, at the pinnacle of the room she bid the women in her even, low, songbird voice worn just for parties. "Your Majesty, Sirdsetts, Ladies, Servants, Slaves- we ought to pray to Hathor for the Queen's constitution. So young and so vibrant with her two lives she nurtures, and the many Egyptians that she carries so wisely." Iaheru didn't believe in Hathor. Iaheru thought the prospect was childish but yet she led the women in prayer and at its adjournment she hoped the party's palate had been adequately cleansed as women chattered amongst themselves. Smiling contently, this is the position she deserved, and her eyes fall to Isetheperu with the friendliest of smiles that would caustically inch away at your skin.
But yet, the women below her that would viciously tear down a queen? A mere child who was subscribed to an unfortunate, tragic fate? Iaheru was disgusted but not a stranger to the cruelty of the court. Loudly, to the first critic she heard with all the authority short of queeliness she could muster, "Don't you agree we have such a strong Queen? An intelligent Queen that would seek to bring us all together to prosper Egypt tenfold? We truly are lucky, aren't we?" Examples and precedent would be set here today if Iaheru could compel the pettiness of some women to tear down another, as she hypocritically did with Isetheperu... But that was a different moral height to climb another ocassion.
Nia offered a tight, yet somehow still sincere, smile in response to her mother’s request, briefly reaching to cover the hand that squeezed her shoulder. Their relationship was not exactly… ideal, but she wasn’t always trying to cause her mother strife, particularly not in front of half the Egyptian nobility. She had some tact.
“Of course, Mother. I’m happy to take care of it.”
As Iaheru turned back to address the others, Nia contemplated the surly slave on the floor with a twist of her lip. What was she supposed to do with her? She had offered to handle the situation, but that didn’t mean she actually knew what she was doing.
Carefully grabbing the girl’s hand, she pulled her to her feet and lightly tugged. “Come on, let’s go.”
Though the slave didn’t look happy about it, she followed Nia, anyway. After what she’d just done, she hardly had a choice, but she didn’t really look like she regretted it, either. The young lady of Hei Sheifa wondered at that, especially after overhearing some of the murmurs from the other slaves. Was the Queen’s staff rebelling against her? And if so, why? Nia tended to avoid the Court when she could, but Hatshepsut seemed all right to her. Why should her slaves be disobedient?
“Guess that means you belong to the Queen, eh?” she asked the slave, who just lifted a shoulder in response. She was pretty sure that meant she was right.
“Stay silent if you like, but that wasn’t a very good idea, you know,” she commented as she led the girl out of the room and down the hall. “I would say most people frown on purposely spilling things on your Queen.” She offered a shrug of her own. “I’m not judging you. I get it, I don’t like it when people tell me what to do.” There was a trace of pity in her gaze as she added, “But I’m not a slave. I can get away with it.”
She might as well have been talking to the wall for all the response she got, her companion staring at her in resigned silence. Nia eyed her for a moment, then shrugged again. “Oh, well. It’s your punishment, not mine.”
Stopping at the end of the hall, she pondered where she ought to take the girl. If she belonged to the Queen, she thought Hatshepsut ought to be the one to deal with her, but she also doubted Her Evening Radiance wanted anything to do with the girl at the moment. Deciding she’d just take the slave to one of the palace stewards and let them deal with her, Nia turned down the hall to the right and went to go do that very thing.
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Nia offered a tight, yet somehow still sincere, smile in response to her mother’s request, briefly reaching to cover the hand that squeezed her shoulder. Their relationship was not exactly… ideal, but she wasn’t always trying to cause her mother strife, particularly not in front of half the Egyptian nobility. She had some tact.
“Of course, Mother. I’m happy to take care of it.”
As Iaheru turned back to address the others, Nia contemplated the surly slave on the floor with a twist of her lip. What was she supposed to do with her? She had offered to handle the situation, but that didn’t mean she actually knew what she was doing.
Carefully grabbing the girl’s hand, she pulled her to her feet and lightly tugged. “Come on, let’s go.”
Though the slave didn’t look happy about it, she followed Nia, anyway. After what she’d just done, she hardly had a choice, but she didn’t really look like she regretted it, either. The young lady of Hei Sheifa wondered at that, especially after overhearing some of the murmurs from the other slaves. Was the Queen’s staff rebelling against her? And if so, why? Nia tended to avoid the Court when she could, but Hatshepsut seemed all right to her. Why should her slaves be disobedient?
“Guess that means you belong to the Queen, eh?” she asked the slave, who just lifted a shoulder in response. She was pretty sure that meant she was right.
“Stay silent if you like, but that wasn’t a very good idea, you know,” she commented as she led the girl out of the room and down the hall. “I would say most people frown on purposely spilling things on your Queen.” She offered a shrug of her own. “I’m not judging you. I get it, I don’t like it when people tell me what to do.” There was a trace of pity in her gaze as she added, “But I’m not a slave. I can get away with it.”
She might as well have been talking to the wall for all the response she got, her companion staring at her in resigned silence. Nia eyed her for a moment, then shrugged again. “Oh, well. It’s your punishment, not mine.”
Stopping at the end of the hall, she pondered where she ought to take the girl. If she belonged to the Queen, she thought Hatshepsut ought to be the one to deal with her, but she also doubted Her Evening Radiance wanted anything to do with the girl at the moment. Deciding she’d just take the slave to one of the palace stewards and let them deal with her, Nia turned down the hall to the right and went to go do that very thing.
Nia offered a tight, yet somehow still sincere, smile in response to her mother’s request, briefly reaching to cover the hand that squeezed her shoulder. Their relationship was not exactly… ideal, but she wasn’t always trying to cause her mother strife, particularly not in front of half the Egyptian nobility. She had some tact.
“Of course, Mother. I’m happy to take care of it.”
As Iaheru turned back to address the others, Nia contemplated the surly slave on the floor with a twist of her lip. What was she supposed to do with her? She had offered to handle the situation, but that didn’t mean she actually knew what she was doing.
Carefully grabbing the girl’s hand, she pulled her to her feet and lightly tugged. “Come on, let’s go.”
Though the slave didn’t look happy about it, she followed Nia, anyway. After what she’d just done, she hardly had a choice, but she didn’t really look like she regretted it, either. The young lady of Hei Sheifa wondered at that, especially after overhearing some of the murmurs from the other slaves. Was the Queen’s staff rebelling against her? And if so, why? Nia tended to avoid the Court when she could, but Hatshepsut seemed all right to her. Why should her slaves be disobedient?
“Guess that means you belong to the Queen, eh?” she asked the slave, who just lifted a shoulder in response. She was pretty sure that meant she was right.
“Stay silent if you like, but that wasn’t a very good idea, you know,” she commented as she led the girl out of the room and down the hall. “I would say most people frown on purposely spilling things on your Queen.” She offered a shrug of her own. “I’m not judging you. I get it, I don’t like it when people tell me what to do.” There was a trace of pity in her gaze as she added, “But I’m not a slave. I can get away with it.”
She might as well have been talking to the wall for all the response she got, her companion staring at her in resigned silence. Nia eyed her for a moment, then shrugged again. “Oh, well. It’s your punishment, not mine.”
Stopping at the end of the hall, she pondered where she ought to take the girl. If she belonged to the Queen, she thought Hatshepsut ought to be the one to deal with her, but she also doubted Her Evening Radiance wanted anything to do with the girl at the moment. Deciding she’d just take the slave to one of the palace stewards and let them deal with her, Nia turned down the hall to the right and went to go do that very thing.
Hatshepsut was curious about the well-dressed Greek woman who bowed to her respectfully, but her only reaction was a regal nod as she noticed her physician approaching. Perhaps she would have time to talk to her later. What was a Greek doing in Egypt when war had only recently been declared between the two realms? Had she been sent to spy or to gain the Queen’s trust so that she could assassinate her? Or maybe she had lived here for some time. However, what was she doing at this gathering for Egyptian noblewomen? Had one of them invited her? Perhaps she was one of Iahotep’s paramours and he had sent her in hopes that she would humiliate his wife.
There was no time to further consider the stranger’s presence when she was unceremoniously doused with cider. Hatshepsut forgot about everything but her irritation and her heaving stomach. Leaving the gathering in Sirdsett Iaheru’s capable hands, she instructed one of her personal slaves find Nefret and take her back to her chambers. Expecting Safiya to follow her, she began to walk slowly toward the door of the palace, one hand resting on the swell of her belly. If she moved any faster, she feared she would throw up.
She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. If she had not heard Skylla’s voice behind her, she would have ordered whomever had touched her to taken into custody and thrown in the dungeon. The young Queen, usually so kind, was in no mood to ignore protocol. Yet Skylla was allowed to touch her without asking, as someday her life might depend upon it. The only other two people who enjoyed that privilege were her mother and her husband, and she wished she was able to refuse the latter. Iahotep’s attentions were abhorrent to her.
“I’m fine,” she told Skylla with a shaky smile. Focusing on her anger had lessened her nausea a bit. “I'm just in need of a quick bath before I return. Please escort me to my chambers and then bring me your herbs when I am clean again." She was comforted by the physician's presence as well as the hand she placed on her own. The young Queen needed her by her side more than she needed her remedies at the moment. She didn’t feel ‘fine’ at all. She felt like she wanted to kill somebody, and that was a frightening sensation that she had never felt before.
That slave was just one of many who had been disobeying her lately. Hatshepsut had instructed the slave master to punish them, but they obviously weren’t learning from their mistakes. She had hoped to avoid confronting them herself, but it looked like that was the only way she would be able to stop their insubordination. In this case, she couldn’t rely on her mother or Zoser to handle the situation for her. Though it went against her sweet and gentle nature, she was going to have to make them fear her.
As she entered the palace, leaving a trail of sickly sweet wine behind her, some of the servants discreetly glanced in her direction as if they thought she wouldn’t notice. One of them asked if she was all right and another hissed: “Do not speak to Her Evening Radiance unless she gives you permission!”
Hatshepsut looked over at the young woman, touched by her concern even though she had broken the rules. “You are now in charge of making certain that enough hot water to fill my tub is brought to my chambers immediately,” she ordered with a slight smile Giving a slave such responsibility was a sign of favor and the only way the Queen could show that she appreciated the slave’s concern for her well-being.
Continuing on her way, she finally reached her spacious suite of rooms. The sooner she could wash away the stickiness of the wine, the better.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Hatshepsut was curious about the well-dressed Greek woman who bowed to her respectfully, but her only reaction was a regal nod as she noticed her physician approaching. Perhaps she would have time to talk to her later. What was a Greek doing in Egypt when war had only recently been declared between the two realms? Had she been sent to spy or to gain the Queen’s trust so that she could assassinate her? Or maybe she had lived here for some time. However, what was she doing at this gathering for Egyptian noblewomen? Had one of them invited her? Perhaps she was one of Iahotep’s paramours and he had sent her in hopes that she would humiliate his wife.
There was no time to further consider the stranger’s presence when she was unceremoniously doused with cider. Hatshepsut forgot about everything but her irritation and her heaving stomach. Leaving the gathering in Sirdsett Iaheru’s capable hands, she instructed one of her personal slaves find Nefret and take her back to her chambers. Expecting Safiya to follow her, she began to walk slowly toward the door of the palace, one hand resting on the swell of her belly. If she moved any faster, she feared she would throw up.
She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. If she had not heard Skylla’s voice behind her, she would have ordered whomever had touched her to taken into custody and thrown in the dungeon. The young Queen, usually so kind, was in no mood to ignore protocol. Yet Skylla was allowed to touch her without asking, as someday her life might depend upon it. The only other two people who enjoyed that privilege were her mother and her husband, and she wished she was able to refuse the latter. Iahotep’s attentions were abhorrent to her.
“I’m fine,” she told Skylla with a shaky smile. Focusing on her anger had lessened her nausea a bit. “I'm just in need of a quick bath before I return. Please escort me to my chambers and then bring me your herbs when I am clean again." She was comforted by the physician's presence as well as the hand she placed on her own. The young Queen needed her by her side more than she needed her remedies at the moment. She didn’t feel ‘fine’ at all. She felt like she wanted to kill somebody, and that was a frightening sensation that she had never felt before.
That slave was just one of many who had been disobeying her lately. Hatshepsut had instructed the slave master to punish them, but they obviously weren’t learning from their mistakes. She had hoped to avoid confronting them herself, but it looked like that was the only way she would be able to stop their insubordination. In this case, she couldn’t rely on her mother or Zoser to handle the situation for her. Though it went against her sweet and gentle nature, she was going to have to make them fear her.
As she entered the palace, leaving a trail of sickly sweet wine behind her, some of the servants discreetly glanced in her direction as if they thought she wouldn’t notice. One of them asked if she was all right and another hissed: “Do not speak to Her Evening Radiance unless she gives you permission!”
Hatshepsut looked over at the young woman, touched by her concern even though she had broken the rules. “You are now in charge of making certain that enough hot water to fill my tub is brought to my chambers immediately,” she ordered with a slight smile Giving a slave such responsibility was a sign of favor and the only way the Queen could show that she appreciated the slave’s concern for her well-being.
Continuing on her way, she finally reached her spacious suite of rooms. The sooner she could wash away the stickiness of the wine, the better.
Hatshepsut was curious about the well-dressed Greek woman who bowed to her respectfully, but her only reaction was a regal nod as she noticed her physician approaching. Perhaps she would have time to talk to her later. What was a Greek doing in Egypt when war had only recently been declared between the two realms? Had she been sent to spy or to gain the Queen’s trust so that she could assassinate her? Or maybe she had lived here for some time. However, what was she doing at this gathering for Egyptian noblewomen? Had one of them invited her? Perhaps she was one of Iahotep’s paramours and he had sent her in hopes that she would humiliate his wife.
There was no time to further consider the stranger’s presence when she was unceremoniously doused with cider. Hatshepsut forgot about everything but her irritation and her heaving stomach. Leaving the gathering in Sirdsett Iaheru’s capable hands, she instructed one of her personal slaves find Nefret and take her back to her chambers. Expecting Safiya to follow her, she began to walk slowly toward the door of the palace, one hand resting on the swell of her belly. If she moved any faster, she feared she would throw up.
She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. If she had not heard Skylla’s voice behind her, she would have ordered whomever had touched her to taken into custody and thrown in the dungeon. The young Queen, usually so kind, was in no mood to ignore protocol. Yet Skylla was allowed to touch her without asking, as someday her life might depend upon it. The only other two people who enjoyed that privilege were her mother and her husband, and she wished she was able to refuse the latter. Iahotep’s attentions were abhorrent to her.
“I’m fine,” she told Skylla with a shaky smile. Focusing on her anger had lessened her nausea a bit. “I'm just in need of a quick bath before I return. Please escort me to my chambers and then bring me your herbs when I am clean again." She was comforted by the physician's presence as well as the hand she placed on her own. The young Queen needed her by her side more than she needed her remedies at the moment. She didn’t feel ‘fine’ at all. She felt like she wanted to kill somebody, and that was a frightening sensation that she had never felt before.
That slave was just one of many who had been disobeying her lately. Hatshepsut had instructed the slave master to punish them, but they obviously weren’t learning from their mistakes. She had hoped to avoid confronting them herself, but it looked like that was the only way she would be able to stop their insubordination. In this case, she couldn’t rely on her mother or Zoser to handle the situation for her. Though it went against her sweet and gentle nature, she was going to have to make them fear her.
As she entered the palace, leaving a trail of sickly sweet wine behind her, some of the servants discreetly glanced in her direction as if they thought she wouldn’t notice. One of them asked if she was all right and another hissed: “Do not speak to Her Evening Radiance unless she gives you permission!”
Hatshepsut looked over at the young woman, touched by her concern even though she had broken the rules. “You are now in charge of making certain that enough hot water to fill my tub is brought to my chambers immediately,” she ordered with a slight smile Giving a slave such responsibility was a sign of favor and the only way the Queen could show that she appreciated the slave’s concern for her well-being.
Continuing on her way, she finally reached her spacious suite of rooms. The sooner she could wash away the stickiness of the wine, the better.
As was often the case with these kinds of events, things happened in one place but affected another. There had been a time when Safiya and Sameera had sat and watched the unfolding tapestry of interactions; it had been Sameera who had suggested that it was very like a dance or a game of senet and Safiya had started to see the same thing.
The way that people moved and then the subtle changes that could happen as a result of one action being taken even if it didn't end up happening all at once. Safiya was determined to figure it out one day, the rules and the reason behind all of the movements but she had the sense that this might not really be a realistic or even that much of an achievable kind of goal but that didn't change the decision that she'd made. Just because it might be hard didn't mean she should give up.
Wasn't that what everyone kept on saying?
Safiya was sure that the ones who had said that kind of thing to her hadn't planned on that kind of reaction but then again, it often happened that way, the two girls seemed to be skilled at managing to surprise people and hopefully, it wouldn't change. Safiya wasn't looking to become predictable, she would never want to do be predictable, that ws a sure path toward becoming dull. Which she didn't want to do have happen.
It was why she was a tick behind the Queen, just that marginally little bit slower than should have been the case but Safiya managed to recover and followed after the Queen, she really didn't have a choice, though the business with the slaves and their apparently inappropriate gossiping was the sort of thing that she would have liked to be distracted by for a while longer "Go on! Don't delay you heard Her Evening Radiance" clearly this had upset the Queen, she had always been gentle and friendly even but some firm manner and clear direciton wouldn't be that terrible an action to take, although it was hard to see the woman having to change.
Safiya really didn't want to end up being forced to make those kinds of compromises in her life but she was also, thankfully, not a Queen. She might be able to slip away from the attention and enjoy some freedom and choices in her own life. That was something that the Queen had been sadly lacking for the majority if not the whole of her life.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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As was often the case with these kinds of events, things happened in one place but affected another. There had been a time when Safiya and Sameera had sat and watched the unfolding tapestry of interactions; it had been Sameera who had suggested that it was very like a dance or a game of senet and Safiya had started to see the same thing.
The way that people moved and then the subtle changes that could happen as a result of one action being taken even if it didn't end up happening all at once. Safiya was determined to figure it out one day, the rules and the reason behind all of the movements but she had the sense that this might not really be a realistic or even that much of an achievable kind of goal but that didn't change the decision that she'd made. Just because it might be hard didn't mean she should give up.
Wasn't that what everyone kept on saying?
Safiya was sure that the ones who had said that kind of thing to her hadn't planned on that kind of reaction but then again, it often happened that way, the two girls seemed to be skilled at managing to surprise people and hopefully, it wouldn't change. Safiya wasn't looking to become predictable, she would never want to do be predictable, that ws a sure path toward becoming dull. Which she didn't want to do have happen.
It was why she was a tick behind the Queen, just that marginally little bit slower than should have been the case but Safiya managed to recover and followed after the Queen, she really didn't have a choice, though the business with the slaves and their apparently inappropriate gossiping was the sort of thing that she would have liked to be distracted by for a while longer "Go on! Don't delay you heard Her Evening Radiance" clearly this had upset the Queen, she had always been gentle and friendly even but some firm manner and clear direciton wouldn't be that terrible an action to take, although it was hard to see the woman having to change.
Safiya really didn't want to end up being forced to make those kinds of compromises in her life but she was also, thankfully, not a Queen. She might be able to slip away from the attention and enjoy some freedom and choices in her own life. That was something that the Queen had been sadly lacking for the majority if not the whole of her life.
As was often the case with these kinds of events, things happened in one place but affected another. There had been a time when Safiya and Sameera had sat and watched the unfolding tapestry of interactions; it had been Sameera who had suggested that it was very like a dance or a game of senet and Safiya had started to see the same thing.
The way that people moved and then the subtle changes that could happen as a result of one action being taken even if it didn't end up happening all at once. Safiya was determined to figure it out one day, the rules and the reason behind all of the movements but she had the sense that this might not really be a realistic or even that much of an achievable kind of goal but that didn't change the decision that she'd made. Just because it might be hard didn't mean she should give up.
Wasn't that what everyone kept on saying?
Safiya was sure that the ones who had said that kind of thing to her hadn't planned on that kind of reaction but then again, it often happened that way, the two girls seemed to be skilled at managing to surprise people and hopefully, it wouldn't change. Safiya wasn't looking to become predictable, she would never want to do be predictable, that ws a sure path toward becoming dull. Which she didn't want to do have happen.
It was why she was a tick behind the Queen, just that marginally little bit slower than should have been the case but Safiya managed to recover and followed after the Queen, she really didn't have a choice, though the business with the slaves and their apparently inappropriate gossiping was the sort of thing that she would have liked to be distracted by for a while longer "Go on! Don't delay you heard Her Evening Radiance" clearly this had upset the Queen, she had always been gentle and friendly even but some firm manner and clear direciton wouldn't be that terrible an action to take, although it was hard to see the woman having to change.
Safiya really didn't want to end up being forced to make those kinds of compromises in her life but she was also, thankfully, not a Queen. She might be able to slip away from the attention and enjoy some freedom and choices in her own life. That was something that the Queen had been sadly lacking for the majority if not the whole of her life.
The tub was filled promptly with steaming water. Hatshepsut’s body slaves peeled her out of her damp, sticky clothing, and she had one of them take her kalisaris to the laundry to be cleaned immediately. Hopefully it was not ruined. The jewels would be fine; it was only the fabric that might be permanently stained. As her slaves bathed her, she remained silent, considering how to punish the woman who had spilled wine on her as well as the others who had disobeyed her lately.
By the time she stepped out of her bath and was dried off with fluffy towels, she had decided on a solution. She didn’t want to be so harsh, but if Iahotep had taught her anything in their three months of marriage, it was that one couldn’t always be kind and compassionate. Sometimes an iron fist was necessary to achieve results. The young queen didn’t want to be feared, but in this case, there was no other choice if she wanted to keep the palace staff in line.
Hatshepsut mused over details as she was dressed in a network gown over a flesh-colored sheath and adorned with matching jewelry. There was no time for her hair to dry naturally so it was covered by a shoulder-length wig made to compliment the beaded gown. Each tiny braid had been woven through with a brightly colored ribbon and was tipped in gold. A glittering circlet was set upon her forehead.
This ensemble was more ornate than the one she had originally worn to the gathering, but it was important that she show that she had not been intimidated and was was still determined that the event be a success. It was the first one she had planned on her own, and she would see it through. The women of the court needed to know that an accident would not stop her, that she was going to support them through the war no matter what obstacles were thrown … sometimes quite literally … in her way.
Now that she was clean and perfumed, Hatshepsut’s stomach had settled down and she didn’t need Skylla’s herbs, though she was grateful for her presence. Instructing Safiya to bring her instruments, she left her chambers and went back to the gardens, this time without her pets. The divan she had been reclining on had been replaced along with the other furniture that had been doused with wine. She could not even smell the cider anymore.
Sitting down, the petite queen picked up her lute and began to play a cheerful tune, adding her voice to the music. She had intended to entertain her guests later in the evening, but this was the perfect time, Music was calming, and the women gathered at the palace needed serenity with war soon to come.
Later, she strolled from group to group, assuring her subjects that she would do everything she could for them and that she would always be available should they have any concerns or problems. Hatshepsut found that speaking to small clusters of people was easier than making speeches and she was able to give each one of them her attention. After everyone had gone home, she was exhausted and retired to her chambers, her lips turned up in a smile. Except for that one mishap, she thought that the event had gone quite well and had done much to unite the noblewomen of Egypt.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The tub was filled promptly with steaming water. Hatshepsut’s body slaves peeled her out of her damp, sticky clothing, and she had one of them take her kalisaris to the laundry to be cleaned immediately. Hopefully it was not ruined. The jewels would be fine; it was only the fabric that might be permanently stained. As her slaves bathed her, she remained silent, considering how to punish the woman who had spilled wine on her as well as the others who had disobeyed her lately.
By the time she stepped out of her bath and was dried off with fluffy towels, she had decided on a solution. She didn’t want to be so harsh, but if Iahotep had taught her anything in their three months of marriage, it was that one couldn’t always be kind and compassionate. Sometimes an iron fist was necessary to achieve results. The young queen didn’t want to be feared, but in this case, there was no other choice if she wanted to keep the palace staff in line.
Hatshepsut mused over details as she was dressed in a network gown over a flesh-colored sheath and adorned with matching jewelry. There was no time for her hair to dry naturally so it was covered by a shoulder-length wig made to compliment the beaded gown. Each tiny braid had been woven through with a brightly colored ribbon and was tipped in gold. A glittering circlet was set upon her forehead.
This ensemble was more ornate than the one she had originally worn to the gathering, but it was important that she show that she had not been intimidated and was was still determined that the event be a success. It was the first one she had planned on her own, and she would see it through. The women of the court needed to know that an accident would not stop her, that she was going to support them through the war no matter what obstacles were thrown … sometimes quite literally … in her way.
Now that she was clean and perfumed, Hatshepsut’s stomach had settled down and she didn’t need Skylla’s herbs, though she was grateful for her presence. Instructing Safiya to bring her instruments, she left her chambers and went back to the gardens, this time without her pets. The divan she had been reclining on had been replaced along with the other furniture that had been doused with wine. She could not even smell the cider anymore.
Sitting down, the petite queen picked up her lute and began to play a cheerful tune, adding her voice to the music. She had intended to entertain her guests later in the evening, but this was the perfect time, Music was calming, and the women gathered at the palace needed serenity with war soon to come.
Later, she strolled from group to group, assuring her subjects that she would do everything she could for them and that she would always be available should they have any concerns or problems. Hatshepsut found that speaking to small clusters of people was easier than making speeches and she was able to give each one of them her attention. After everyone had gone home, she was exhausted and retired to her chambers, her lips turned up in a smile. Except for that one mishap, she thought that the event had gone quite well and had done much to unite the noblewomen of Egypt.
The tub was filled promptly with steaming water. Hatshepsut’s body slaves peeled her out of her damp, sticky clothing, and she had one of them take her kalisaris to the laundry to be cleaned immediately. Hopefully it was not ruined. The jewels would be fine; it was only the fabric that might be permanently stained. As her slaves bathed her, she remained silent, considering how to punish the woman who had spilled wine on her as well as the others who had disobeyed her lately.
By the time she stepped out of her bath and was dried off with fluffy towels, she had decided on a solution. She didn’t want to be so harsh, but if Iahotep had taught her anything in their three months of marriage, it was that one couldn’t always be kind and compassionate. Sometimes an iron fist was necessary to achieve results. The young queen didn’t want to be feared, but in this case, there was no other choice if she wanted to keep the palace staff in line.
Hatshepsut mused over details as she was dressed in a network gown over a flesh-colored sheath and adorned with matching jewelry. There was no time for her hair to dry naturally so it was covered by a shoulder-length wig made to compliment the beaded gown. Each tiny braid had been woven through with a brightly colored ribbon and was tipped in gold. A glittering circlet was set upon her forehead.
This ensemble was more ornate than the one she had originally worn to the gathering, but it was important that she show that she had not been intimidated and was was still determined that the event be a success. It was the first one she had planned on her own, and she would see it through. The women of the court needed to know that an accident would not stop her, that she was going to support them through the war no matter what obstacles were thrown … sometimes quite literally … in her way.
Now that she was clean and perfumed, Hatshepsut’s stomach had settled down and she didn’t need Skylla’s herbs, though she was grateful for her presence. Instructing Safiya to bring her instruments, she left her chambers and went back to the gardens, this time without her pets. The divan she had been reclining on had been replaced along with the other furniture that had been doused with wine. She could not even smell the cider anymore.
Sitting down, the petite queen picked up her lute and began to play a cheerful tune, adding her voice to the music. She had intended to entertain her guests later in the evening, but this was the perfect time, Music was calming, and the women gathered at the palace needed serenity with war soon to come.
Later, she strolled from group to group, assuring her subjects that she would do everything she could for them and that she would always be available should they have any concerns or problems. Hatshepsut found that speaking to small clusters of people was easier than making speeches and she was able to give each one of them her attention. After everyone had gone home, she was exhausted and retired to her chambers, her lips turned up in a smile. Except for that one mishap, she thought that the event had gone quite well and had done much to unite the noblewomen of Egypt.