The sun was bright and high in the sky, a beautiful breeze was wafting through the gardens, bringing with it the refreshing coolness of the Nile and the scent of vegetation. Beneath a few large palm trees, Heba lounged upon a pile of different sized, soft pillows, all on top of a large blanket. She was leaned on the low table in front of her, her cheek on her forearm as she flicked at a petal that had been carried over by the winds.
The table was loaded to its very edges with different plates of different foods, jugs of different drinks. It was a smaller table, all things considered, so Heba had been surprised that so much could fit on it, with room for two people to still eat at set places. There was an empty spot across from her, where more luxurious pillows were piled, still in the shade of the trees. After all, it wasn’t right to keep a Pharaoh waiting; other people were supposed to wait for the Pharaoh to come to them.
Not that Heba often paid attention to such a rule. In fact, more often than not, Heba would wake up late, which meant she was ready for the day later than others, having to have her handmaidens go through the motions of getting her primped and primed. It was rare to see her on time for breakfast, or any meal, really, save for the days she met with the Pharaoh. Even then, there were plenty of times he was left waiting for her, mostly because on those days, her handmaidens were insistent on doing the best job of getting her ready (she avoided them most days, if she could manage to).
Looking at the arm she wasn’t laying her head on, Heba raised it and lightly shook it, letting the different bracelets clink together in chaotic noise.
“So pointless,” she sighed, heavily, letting her arm fall back onto the table. There were servants nearby, waiting to serve the food and do whatever else it was that they did. When she was around Atemu, Heba didn’t pay much attention to others and when she wasn’t around him, others didn’t pay much attention to her. It was clear she was in a sour mood, though; she even heard the servants whispering that it was odd behavior for Heba to not be overjoyed to be seeing the Pharaoh, soon. Well, if her father wasn’t a total moron, she wouldn’t have to have been plagued by annoying thoughts.
“It’s too hot. I wonder if I can convince him to swim in the river with me.” A manmade river had been dug out however long ago, long before her time, Atemu’s time, their parents’ time, etc., to lead into a wading pool and irrigation systems for the plants grown within the palace walls. There was a large grate of iron that kept dangerous animals and trespassers from using the manmade waterway to get into the palace grounds, so Heba wasn’t worried about any dangers of playing in the water. There were deep areas, though, and she didn’t know how to properly swim, so she just stuck to the areas that only went about waist high.
“Where is he? I bet his priests are keeping him occupied. Bah. Priests. As if me studying to become one isn’t important enough to my stupid father. Idiot. Moron.” She flicked an olive off of a plate and onto the ground. “Priestess Isis is greatly respected and not married. Why can’t I just be like her?”
