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22 August, 1318 BCE
The Palace of Amenhotep III, Malkata, Thebes
6:54 AM
The inky dark river stretches before her – flecks of light signaling Ra’s voyage, rising up over the horizon, glimmer over the slight waves. As expected, the river was close to flooding. At least one thing was going right for the new year.
Cleo settles onto a nearby deck – partially obscured by her father’s favored ship. If anyone caught her out here on her own at this time of day…
She sighs, willing those thoughts away as she dips a foot into the cool water. It’s calming; with all of the new year festivities and nonsense going on, she’s needed some time to clear her head.
As of late, there’s been a nervous energy around the palace; she’d tried her best to ignore it, but there’s clearly something going on. Something bigger than the banquet that evening and subsequent Wepet-Renpet festival.
It’s this nervous energy that’s been drawing Cleo out to the front of the palace’s complex. Rather, an attempt to avoid it. Father won’t say anything about it, but he’d clearly noticed something was amiss. Mother, ever the peacekeeper just reassured her that everything was fine, that any tension in the air was excitement for the new year. As if. The servants were giving each other strange, almost suspicious looks – Nefera hadn’t even done anything to them to cause this behavior either!
She sighs, watching the reeds softly blow on the riverbank. They seem to shine underneath the yellow sky. She almost wonders if she’d been transported to the Kingdom of Osiris. Her heart feels light enough.
22 August, 1318 BCE
The Palace of Amenhotep III, Malkata, Thebes
4:15 PM
“Did you steal my kohl?!” Nefera bursts into Cleo’s chamber, to where the princess in question has an array of jewelry laid out in front of her; if she’s going to start the year off right, she has to do it looking her best. She’s torn between a cobra arm cuff and a jewel-encrusted one when Nefera breaks her focus.
“Uh, no.” Cleo spits out. “I haven’t even put on my dress yet.”
“Oh really?” Nefera accuses. “Then what’s that?” She points to a small vase full of dark powder on Cleo’s vanity, delicately placed next to an array of perfume bottles. She’d made a trip to the trade caravans that morning to blend a truly magnificent fragrance – Mutemwia, one of the head perfumers, had returned from a family trip to a nome in the lower kingdom – with some truly spectacular ingredients. Cleo had never thought of using so much myrrh in a salve before, but it did smell incredible.
“That’s my kohl, Nefera,” Cleo crosses her arms, huffing. “You know I went to the marketplace this morning, right? Because you stole my last vase!”
“You’re such a terrible liar.” Nefera rolls her eyes, strutting through the chamber, attempting to snatch the cosmetic in question. Cleo, realizing what her sister was about to do, quickly grabs it in time. Nefera’s reflexes being slightly slower causes her to fall into the vanity – the force of her impact causes the vials to crash onto the floor, spilling everywhere.
“Ugh! It’s on my shoes,” Nefera whines, shaking her feet around in an attempt to get the slimy liquid off. “And I just bought these sandals!”
“And I just worked on these!” Cleo cries, feeling tears spring to her eyes. Once again, something she worked hard on, ruined by Nefera. “You are the worst!”
“When I ascend to the throne, I am so banishing you!” Nefera spits out.
Cleo gasps, outraged. Before she can reply, she’s interrupted by a stern voice.
“What’s going on here?” Both Cleo and Nefera turn, quarrel temporarily halted, seeing Queen Dedyet in all of her royal glory at the door. There’s no mistaking the Great Royal Wife for anyone else – not that either of them could forget their mother’s face. “You two should be ready by now – the banquet is about to start.”
“She stole my kohl!” Nefera accuses, at the same time as Cleo yells, “She broke my perfumes!”
Their synchronized yells causes their mother to sigh. She pinches the bridge of her nose, before snapping back into a more regal posture.
“Kemeni, fetch my cosmetic box,” Dedyet commands to a nearby servant. The Queen turns back to her daughters. “I’ll have some servants clean this up while we dine. For now, you two must get ready, and quickly – everyone’s waiting on you.”
Nefera grumbles something under her breath, crossing her arms. Cleo feels a similar annoyance; regardless, she obeys. The Pharaoh's first born, fully royal children can’t embarrass him in such a manner. Not that any of her half-siblings would have the right to say anything – her and Nefera are closer to godhood than any of Father’s pitiful other wives or their children.
But still.
Well, I can at least be fashionably late, she thinks with a smirk.
10 September, 1318 BCE
The Palace of Amenhotep III, Malkata, Thebes
11:09 AM
On days like this, Cleo was especially grateful to be free of the duties that came with being the first born. More and more often, Nefera was stuck in meeting after meeting with advisors and foreign dignitaries. Father had insisted on it – thinly veiled paranoia pretending to be education.
“She will have to learn these skills some day regardless – why not now?” He had said. No one dared argue; The Pharaoh's word was final, after all. It still didn’t stop the tension from spreading. Even now, it was almost as if she was forbidden from leaving the palace grounds.
With a day free from her father’s watchful eye, Cleo decided to head down to the trade caravans once more – her favored activity. She decides to forgo her usual jewels and diamonds in exchange for a plain linen dress and shawl – spare garments acquired from the servants’ quarters.
“Cleo, I hardly recognized you in this outfit!” Mutemwia greets, after doing a double-take. Her short dark locks twirl around her face as she grins at the princess. Wia was only a couple of years older than Cleo herself – which was part of the reason why they were so close. Her status as one of the head perfumers at such a young age was another reason Cleo found her so noteworthy. “you look as stunning as ever.”
“Of course I do!” Cleo laughs, twirling. “It’s me, after all.” She puffs her chest out. “What have you got for me for today?”
“Well, I just got a shipment of saffron in, and I’ve been dying to try something with it.” Wia presents Cleo with a small bowl full of bright crimson stems. Cleo manages a whiff of what smells like the sea – it’s glorious.
Wia shows her a few more ingredients, the pair experimenting and combining until they decide on the ideal scent profile.
“Since I’m technically not here on royal business, could I help stir it up?” Cleo suggests, tucking herself by Wia’s side. The older girl lets out a soft laugh.
“I admire your strategy this time around, but the answer’s still no; I can’t allow Egypt’s finest to do manual labor.”
“You’re no fun.” Cleo faux-pouts.
“I’m just doing my job, your highness.” Wia retorts.
Cleo watches intently as Wia carefully grinds the saffron into powder. She adds some pine resin and wine for good measure – mixing and mixing until a beautiful smelling oil is produced. After bottling it up, Wia rushes over to Cleo – catching her in a tight embrace.
“Be careful, alright? I’ve heard some nasty rumors as of late. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I’ll be fine, Wia,” Cleo reassures when feels Wia’s arms tighten even further around her. “My father is working to find the source of these rumors – things will be back to normal soon enough.”
“You came here in disguise, Cleo,” Wia murmurs into her hair. “you’ve heard how people are feeling about your family, right?”
“Bits and pieces.” Cleo admits, heart sinking; she’d heard servants discussing their usual jealousies, but they’d become more… vicious than they had ever been. The words they spoke certainly weren’t by Thoth’s tongue.
Something in her stomach sinks as she tucks herself further into Wia’s embrace. In this moment and this moment alone, she is human.
5 October, 1318 BCE
The Palace of Amenhotep III, Malkata, Thebes
3:08 PM
The official banquet announcing the start of the season of sowing was met with much more… well, hostility was an understatement, in Cleo’s opinion. It was only a well-placed speech from Cleo’s uncle that pacified the crowd.
Hamun Ka-ankh had always been a great speaker, both in official matters and personal ones. Cleo remembers when he would come to visit in her childhood, regaling her and Nefera with tales of far away lands and legendary heroes.
Cleo notices yet another strange expression on her father’s face as Uncle addresses the people. His face had been contorted like that much too often as of late. It wasn’t unheard of, to hear speeches from either advisors or other members of the royal family. But to have someone other than the Great Pharaoh to receive such a warm reception…
Something coils within her gut as she attempts to focus on her uncle’s words. She’s reminded of her last conversation with Wia – the people were dissatisfied with their family. It was too obvious to ignore at this point.
Regrettably, the last time she saw Wia was when she showed up in disguise. Father had put his foot down, formally forbidding her from leaving the palace – always needing to be around at least two servants and a guard, threatening to up her entourage with each complaint, paranoia lacing every word. Though, was it even fair for her to refer to his state of mind as paranoia?
As Uncle’s speech comes to a close and the roar of applause surrounds her, Cleo plasters on a grin. She spots the same false grin on Nefera’s face as well. They lock eyes, an understanding between the pair. They’d bickered so often, it felt odd to agree with her for once.
Cleo swallows, trying to will away a sudden nauseous feeling. Everything would be fine, it’d have to be.
15 July, 19 BCE
Valley of the Kings, KV63, Luxor
4:56 PM
If Cleo had to hear Nefera talking to that stupid flower for any longer, she might scream.
They’d been stuck in this stupid tomb for Heh knows how long, and Cleo was beyond sick of it. Perhaps it was the stench of what an actual corpse was supposed to smell like that was making her sick too. How and why it was starting to bloom was beyond her.
Father had offered no comment, though he seldom spoke these days. Years? Cleo wasn’t entirely sure. He’d seemingly taken a vow of silence as soon as it became apparent they’d never see Mother again. Even without that, it wasn’t as if they had anything to talk about. That well had run dry ages ago.
At least the flower offered some variety in their time in this wretched place, she thinks, rolling her eyes as Nefera starts a new nonsensical conversation. Her sister was surely the first to go mad, and Cleo feels like she’s not far behind as she lets the babbling wash over her.
4 November, 1922 CE
Valley of the Kings, KV63, Luxor
9:52 AM
For the first time in centuries, she can’t move.
Panic seizes her; she tries to scream, to fight in any way she can – but she’s bound, constricted in terrifying darkness. Her forehead smacks against whatever she’s stuck in, and she winces, tears springing to her eyes. She’s still wrapped in those accursed bandages. They itch beyond belief, though that seems to be the least of her worries.
Muffled voices come from all around, though they don’t sound friendly. She struggles to hear what they’re saying, concentrating with all her might when a sharp pain flashes through her head.
She feels herself being lifted, and at the same time, she feels lightheaded, everything around her going hazy. Air rushes around her, and as her consciousness fades, she thinks she dreams of reeds.
17 December, 2006 CE
American Museum of Natural History, New York, USA
11:24 PM
“Careful, these guys are really old.”
A loud creak jolts her back to awareness. Cleo tries to move, feeling her limbs constricted by what feels like linen… ah, bandages, her mind supplies. It takes her drowsy mind a moment to recognize them; she’s not sure how long she’d been asleep, and based on past experience, she’s not sure she wants to know.
She hears a pair of voices talking around her, muffled but still clear enough for her to understand.
“Man, if this girl wasn’t so bandaged up I’d crack open these sarcophagi in an instant. Know what I mean?”
“That’s gross, man,” The other guy laughs. “I think this one was a teenager,” There’s a pause. “Yeah, says here this girl died at fifteen.”
“Eh, they were all marrying at like, twelve years old back then. Fifteen is a mature lady.” More laughter. “Say, you thi–”
A loud crash interrupts the man, giving way to the sound of even louder screaming.
“You DARE speak to a daughter of Egypt that way?” A familiar voice booms. Her heart races – is that…?
“Cleo?” Her father’s voice, soft and muffled calls out to her. She’d cry on the spot, but her tears are quickly absorbed by the bandages over her face.
Light – beautiful, wonderful light fills her vision.
It takes her an embarrassingly long time to regain control of her limbs, stiff after being bound and unused. Her father’s arms wrap around her, and she sinks into his embrace as he coos at her. How long has it been since she last heard his voice? How long had it been since they’d last been awake…?
Her questions go unanswered as she hears another voice sniffle, and another set of arms snake their way around her other side – Nefera had been freed, and she can’t even find it in herself bitter about it happening before her rescue.
The building they’re in is unlike anything they’d ever seen, and seemingly as large as their home. Her eyes widen as she takes in the surrounding décor, a combination of items from both their home and foreign lands.
“Is this our new palace?” She asks after a moment, trying to clear her throat.
“No, beloved,” Father answers, grip tightening to the point she can barely breathe. “we’ll be there soon enough. I promise.”