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Scarcely has there come a day more cherished in the heart of the queen, who had risen long before Re's own ascent to oversee the final touches of the ceremony. The servants had meticulously cleansed the grand hall, the marbled floors, it’s carved colonnades which led to a limestone dais, all scrubbed to a mirror glisten. Fresh flowers were placed in enormous arrangements of azure, delineating the aisle and altar, while wide-leaf palms and sycamore transformed the main room into a garden of delights. Seating areas were laid with tanned antelope skins and braziers lit the chambers with crimson of the eternal flame, and later a sumptuous meal would be lain in the banquet hall.
The evening held a magic, and even moreso as their guests filtered in to fill the room with gifts and anticipatory chatter. It was essential to the Pharaoh and queen that rulers of political allies, and those with the potential to become so, receive invitations. Neith herself had welcomed each one the day prior, ensuring fellahin escorted them to the palace citadel where immaculate quarters stood ready to receive.
It was as though all of nature was aware of the joy of the occasion, and contributed wholeheartedly to it, clearing clouds with the dawn and dropping winds to a sedate zephyr. There was only one lingering concern which could cast a pall over the festivities, but Merneith did not think her sister would spread scorn; not on this day.
As sunset hour approached so the music became louder, the singers’ voices blending as rainfall from the heavens. Neith moved to a position upon the dais, the gold silk shift breezing over her spine and tail. She had sequestered the bride away in her own chambers all day, supervising as fellahin smoothed every fur and lathed her paws in sea salt, painted her legs in henna. Sitamun was draped in ivory silks and shimmering malachite dust, her steel eyes accented with kohl markings. As a wedding gift, Merneith gave a blue-green string of jewels set in gold to her handmaiden, recovered from the depths of the palatial catacombs and placed delicately at her crown. One of the many virtues the fellahin evinced was to be seeming unaware of just how splendorous her appearance was. Neith anticipated watching those who crowded around her to bask in the bride’s beauty.
This marriage marked a new beginning for Sitamun, and though she felt the close of one passage, another had been opened for her most beloved attendant. Neith stands in the shafts of gold light, looking beside her to Setemhotep, suspecting the seer shares her bittersweet sentiments.
Then as golden hour strikes, a sudden silence so complete and shocking to the ear overwhelms the grand hall. A soloist’s voice lifts into the air, and the queen looks eagerly down the aisle.
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