Chapter 6: The Weight of Royalty

I lived in a palace on the West Bank of the Nile, in the grandest palace ever raised by human hands, known to some as Per Hay, the House of Rejoicing, and to others as the Palace of the Dazzling Aten. From my window, the gleaming limestone walls and gilded columns seemed to shine with their own sunlight, a beacon of Egypt’s wealth and pride.

Our kingdom was unmatched; no place on earth could rival our endless fields of grain, our mines brimming with gold, nor the majesty of my family’s eighteenth dynasty.

The city around our palace was officially called Aten, the Dazzling Aten, but we children heard it called many things, the City of Amenhotep, or simply Per-a’a, the Great House, just as they called our father. Though they named it the King’s City, I always knew he built it for my mother Tey, the most powerful woman in the world, whose presence alone could quiet a room.

My mother, born a commoner, rose higher than any queen before her. Father married her out of pure love, needing no alliances, needing no permission. He was Pharaoh, a living God, who bent the world to his will, and crowned her as his own heart.

That morning, the Dazzling Aten throbbed with excitement for the Heb Sed festival. I listened to the hum of servants scurrying through the painted halls, carrying perfumed wigs, fresh goat’s milk, garlands of lotus, and trays of bread still warm from the ovens. The canals outside my chamber were packed with boats, the water barely rippling between hulls piled high with dates, pomegranates, jars of beer, and clay amphorae of wine.

My brother and sisters made their way through our private waterways, the water gardens perfumed with lilies and wild rushes, birds preening themselves under the sun’s first rays. We all gathered on the barge at the royal harbor, where even the stone steps were dressed in flowers and scented with incense that curled through the morning air.

Mother stood waiting for us, crowned in gold, regal beyond words, while Isis, my sister, led our procession, shimmering in a gown of silver-threaded mist. She was so calm, so proud, the moon to my sun, and I could see how deeply she was already transforming into the wife of a god.

I walked behind her, unable to hide my fierce joy, though my mother had told me to quiet my light for the day. Still, I smiled too brightly and laughed too easily, just as Horemheb, our brother, teased me for. We all boarded the barge to cross to Thebes, preparing ourselves to celebrate not just Father’s festival, but also my wedding to the God, and all the promises that day would bring.

My mother, our unshakable Queen, reminded us before of our duties and the honor of our line. And as the boat pulled away, I felt the thrill of the Nile’s current underfoot and the dawn wind lifting our sails, and I knew that we were part of something eternal, something that would outlive even the gods themselves.