Quietus
It's just duty, she tells herself. Her role had been clear since she was brought into the world, and it was pointless to fight against these old customs and traditions, carved deeply into stone eons older than herself, older than her clan.
The first time they met was when they were mere toddlers; the elders had determined that they would be married when they were of age. They studied the same scriptures under the same elder with the other children, and when she finished - women need not commit the scriptures to heart as much as the men did - she would be in the corner with other girls, learning the responsibilities of being a good wife from her mother and the other older women. She was close by when he underwent the ritual, ear against the wall as he screamed, the secret of their clan forever carved into his flesh.
He had a duty, too. Completed in delicate strokes of a crooked dagger.
His second duty was the one he shared with her. They were bound in a small ceremony a few years later with every one of the Ishtars in attendance. It would be simple, her mother had told her when she had been alive - submit to your husband, and he will lead you.
Days, months, years, but her tummy remained flat. The others were soon pointing and glaring, chiding her apparent barren state, gossiping behind closed doors where they thought they were out of earshot. She did not understand what was wrong, nor did her husband, and none of the physicians under and above ground were able to figure it out.
There were already talks of her husband taking a second wife when she found the bawling infant. So fragile, so precious, she thought as she lifted him into her arms and his crying gradually ceased. She felt as if the gods had presented her with a gift, as she looked at the baby and he grinned toothlessly back at her. He's mine.
However, her husband would not allow Rishid to be theirs. They had no means of proving he had Ishtar blood, or was of a distant relation. She pleaded with him on account of their childless state, citing that Rishid must have been a sign from the heavens… as much as she wanted to believe her own words, she found out that she only wanted Rishid out of selfishness. She glanced into his face, and felt something stir in her chest, something warm and embracing; as if a missing part of her had been restored. He was the first entity she desired for her own.
Rishid was then recognised as the child belonging to members of a distant sub-clan; the whereabouts of his biological parents were reportedly unknown. She brought him before the elders, and after days of prayer on her part and deliberation on theirs, Rishid was accepted as the heir.
However, one person would not accept this. Her husband.
Rishid grew under her watchful eye for the better part of his early childhood. Those days she treasured dearly; never before had she felt such bliss compared to watching her child grow with the seasons. She turned a blind eye to the continued whispers of those that still disapproved of her ways, and she continued to try for an heir with her spouse nonetheless. And then along came the next surprise.
She was finally with child.
As with her pregnancy, she didn't expect the complications that came with it. There was the usual morning sickness, but there was also the irregular bleeding, the unexplainable fatigue and moodiness, the sleepless nights that left her absolutely worn out for every single day of those nine months. Many times she had cried in frustration – many of those times her husband was there to talk to her, sometimes raising his voice, telling her that it would be over as soon as she knew it, that this child would bring honour to their family, their clan and their Pharaoh. So she bore with it; the women helped her to be as comfortable as possible, fed her some of the best food so that she would give birth to a healthy heir.
Everyone was unanimously positive that she carried a boy in her tummy. The physicians and older women had nodded their heads in approval during her periodical examinations. It was an understatement to say that they were shocked when the infant they helped deliver turned out to be a girl.
Her husband had been by her side during the labour, but had turned away once the infant's gender was revealed and didn't look at her for several days after. She spent that time mostly recuperating, since labour did take out a lot of strength from her. Rishid came by at least twice a day to peer at his sister's face, and so did a few other clansmen and clanswomen, but otherwise those days were spent breastfeeding and admiring the child born from her own womb.
Ishizu was a quiet girl; they never had to fret over her much and was fawned on by many despite their disappointment that she wasn't a boy, compared to Rishid who was still ostracised by some but for the most part ignored. The two children had a generally good sibling relationship, although her husband was often against their proximity with each other.
Years passed again; her husband was more and more impatient to bear a son, for he had made it clear time and again that Rishid would never be a son, but a slave to him. Her adoptive son was due to have his initiation in a few months, and he had expressed his worries time and again to her.
"Be brave, Rishid," she had told him one night, when he came over after she had tucked Ishizu into bed. "Remember, this is your duty, and it will bring honour to our family and heritage."
"… Father does not consider me family," Rishid said, downcast. "The same blood does not run in my veins. The Pharaoh will reject me."
"I'm sure the Pharaoh will be understanding and magnanimous," she held her son in an embrace for a few moments. "He would not have wanted me to forsake you. Be at ease and go to sleep now, so that you may rise in time with Ra."
She was found to be with child again some time later. Hopes within the clan rose again, and Rishid's initiation was put off to anticipate the arrival of the baby. Time passed, and the baby was due to be born almost as if it had only been the day before she realised she was pregnant.
The labour was relatively short, only lasting a few hours compared to the almost full day she spent lying on the bed when delivering Ishizu. It was a boy this time, just like her husband had always hoped. The midwives were still whispering and fussing over her as she held her new-born son in her arms, crying and bawling for all he was worth. She smiled down at him, then at her husband, who was sporting a satisfied expression.
"There's too much blood."
One of the midwives – a sister of hers – was rushing in with towels as she heard this. She did feel a little weak, but not in much pain… or so she thought. In the next moment, she was gritting her teeth and clasping her husband's hand tightly as pain exploded within her. Sweat rolled profusely down her forehead, blurring her vision, her baby was taken from her arms as she was writhing too much to keep a firm grip.
It was unbearable; it was as if she had been set on fire, except that the flames were burning within her. "Please, dear," she gasped out. "Bring the children here."
"The young ones should not see a sight such as this-"
"Please," she repeated, beseeching, looking into his eyes. "There is a chance I may not live beyond the day. Let me see them."
They held each other's gaze for a long moment; the family patriarch exchanged a few words with one of the midwives before glancing back at his wife and nodded. Someone brought in Rishid and Ishizu soon after and strategically placed themselves so that the children will not see the red pouring down their mother's legs.
"Rishid, Ishizu," the pain was slightly more bearable, but she felt herself growing weaker with each breath she took. She placed a palm on her oldest child's cheek and stroked it lightly with her thumb. "Promise me you'll take care of each other."
"Mother, what is happening?" Rishid choked out, wide-eyed. "You look… dreadful."
"Promise me, my children," she said again. "And take good care of… Marik. He's your new baby brother."
"Mother?" Ishizu spoke up, one hand wrapped around Rishid forearm and the other placed under her chin in a fist. "What's wrong?"
"Everything is alright, Ishizu. Now, remember… to do what I just told you."
"We will, mother," Rishid said, as he grasped his mother's hand. "We will."
Her strength was leaving her as she returned her gaze to her husband's. They were married out of duty, but it would be false if they said they didn't care about each other beyond their bonds. He was looking at her with an unreadable expression, his jaw tight. "Dear-"
"Do not speak now," her husband said. "You are to rest and save your energy."
She gave him a wan smile as she closed her eyes – whether her next journey was to Tutu or Osiris, she did not know. At least, she had at long last fulfilled the duty that had been entrusted to her.
Please watch over them, my Pharaoh.
A/N: Tutu is the Egyptian God of sleeping. This was really tough to write too; I'm just so relieved that it's done. I apologise if there are inaccuracies with my portrayal of childbirth; I was rushing for time as it is and didn't research as much as I'd have liked.