6/5/2026, 7:50 PM
Six and a half years had Sapair been a bachelor.
He had known women all his life. Concubines, nursemaids, dancers, slaves. Wives in loveless marriages.
In the nubian outpost where he spent his youth, concubines and slaves warmed the hearths of servicemen. Children came and went through the courtyards in such numbers that a man could scarcely keep count of every face that carried his blood. Sapair himself had fathered many. Some he remembered. Others he’d never meet.
Yet for all of that, he had never had a wife.
The thought sat strangely upon his shoulders as he moved about that day. Sitamun was young enough that he sometimes feared she would wake one morning and realize the absurdity of it all. And his mouth softened despite it.
Not once had he stood before gods and kingdom and pledged himself to a single woman. Never had he chosen one soul above all others and said: you alone. He knew how to command soldiers and govern discipline. He knew how to sire children.
Now he would learn to be a husband.
Stepping into the gilt hall, jodai was reminded that this day was also a matter of high state. The palace filled with foreign leaders and figureheads. Gifts heaped high. He strode to take his place before the altar, cursory glances taken to royals and the presiding seer.
Then he turned to face the threshold where Sitamun was secreted, struck by a nerve which chased the thrumming beat of his heart.
He had known women all his life. Concubines, nursemaids, dancers, slaves. Wives in loveless marriages.
In the nubian outpost where he spent his youth, concubines and slaves warmed the hearths of servicemen. Children came and went through the courtyards in such numbers that a man could scarcely keep count of every face that carried his blood. Sapair himself had fathered many. Some he remembered. Others he’d never meet.
Yet for all of that, he had never had a wife.
The thought sat strangely upon his shoulders as he moved about that day. Sitamun was young enough that he sometimes feared she would wake one morning and realize the absurdity of it all. And his mouth softened despite it.
Not once had he stood before gods and kingdom and pledged himself to a single woman. Never had he chosen one soul above all others and said: you alone. He knew how to command soldiers and govern discipline. He knew how to sire children.
Now he would learn to be a husband.
Stepping into the gilt hall, jodai was reminded that this day was also a matter of high state. The palace filled with foreign leaders and figureheads. Gifts heaped high. He strode to take his place before the altar, cursory glances taken to royals and the presiding seer.
Then he turned to face the threshold where Sitamun was secreted, struck by a nerve which chased the thrumming beat of his heart.