Chapter Text
The banquet hall buzzed with a warmth as rich and intoxicating as the spiced wine flowing from silver pitchers. The high, star-strewn windows of the Celestial Palace of Aaru looked down upon a scene of rare, unguarded jubilation. Servants, their formal duties concluded for the moment, mingled freely with off-duty guards, junior viziers, and even a few of the imposing, white-clad Sacred Guardians. Plates were piled high with roasted duck glistening with pomegranate glaze, honeyed figs that dripped golden sweetness, and tender spiced lamb that fell apart at the touch. The stifling tension of the day’s ceremony had melted entirely, replaced by something bright, celebratory, and utterly fascinated.
And the topic on every single lip, from the lowest scullery maid to the most decorated captain, was the new Divine Consort.
Mayet, a handmaiden and a perpetually cheerful disposition, plopped down at a long trestle table, balancing a plate of delicate sesame pastries. “I’m telling you,” she said, waving a honeyed fig for emphasis, “the Divine Consort is the sweetest soul I’ve ever seen. Did you see how he smiled at the children throwing petals? He looked genuinely delighted, not just politely annoyed.”
A young kitchen boy, still clutching a serving tray like a shield, nodded with wide, earnest eyes. “He thanked me! Me! Just for handing him a cup of water before the procession. Called me ‘sir’!”
Another servant, an older woman who had served three pharaohs, chimed in, her voice laced with awe. “He thanked everyone. The palanquin bearers, the flower-scatterers, the guards at the gate. I’ve never seen a royal do that. Not like that. It wasn’t perfunctory; it was… real.”
Mayet grinned, her whole face lighting up. “He’s going to be fun. I can feel it. He has that spark—like he’s curious about everything, like he actually sees us.”
A guard passing by, his ceremonial helmet tucked under his arm, paused to add his piece. “And he’s brave. Let’s not forget that. Most people, even nobles, freeze up in front of a crowd that size. But he walked the entire processional way like he belonged there beside the Grandeur. No hesitation.”
The table murmured in fervent agreement, a chorus of approval.
“He’s gentle,” one servant said. “He’s respectful,” another added. “And he’s adorable,” Mayet declared decisively. “Like a little sunbeam made person.”
Laughter, warm and genuine, rippled through the group.
“And the Grandeur?” a servant whispered, leaning in with dramatic flair. “Gods above, he looked like he was going to faint from happiness. I thought he might just sprout wings and fly.”
“Oh, he’s devoted,” Mayet said, placing a hand over her heart.
One of the older servants sighed dreamily. “It’s beautiful. It’s like something from the old tales.”
Near one of the great alabaster pillars, three figures stood observing the revelry, their postures deceptively casual. High Priest Mahad, his arms crossed, watched the crowd with a measured gaze. Captain of the Guard Seth observed the perimeter out of habit, his sharp eyes missing nothing. The Vizier Karim sipped his wine, a faint smile playing on his lips.
Karim chuckled softly. “It would seem the entire serving staff is ready to lay down their lives for him already.”
Mahad nodded slowly, a rare, approving glint in his eyes. “It is more than mere charm. He carries himself with a natural humility. In one afternoon, he has dismantled a thousand years of rigid protocol, not by force, but by grace. That alone earns deep respect.”
Seth could not say much as he spend most of time day dreaming about the Divine Consort, but even he couldn’t suppress the slight relaxation in his shoulders. A happy Pharaoh and a popular Consort made for a far more stable kingdom than the alternative.
Across the hall, a cluster of junior viziers had gathered near the overflowing dessert table, speaking in fast, excited whispers that betrayed their youth.
“He’s going to be a wonderful Consort,” one said, nibbling on a date cake. “Did you hear his vows? So eloquent.” “So polite,” another added. “He made eye contact when he thanked me for the scroll of greetings. Actually looked at me.” “And the Grandeur,” a third chimed in, shaking his head in wonder. “He looks so happy. The weight on his shoulders… it’s just gone.”
Someone leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, “Do you think he’ll join us tonight? The Consort, I mean.”
Another replied with a knowing laugh, “Probably not he must be exhausted. The Grandeur knows what is best.”
They all burst into good-natured, understanding laughter.
Into this warm cacophony, Lady Neferet glided. She moved like a shadow wrapped in the finest midnight-white silk, her entrance a study in calculated elegance. Her expression was serenely beautiful, her posture flawlessly regal, her smile a polite, closed-lipped curve.
But her eyes—sharp, cold, and endlessly calculating—scanned the hall, missing nothing. They skimmed over the laughing guards, the gossiping viziers, and landed on Mayet’s table, where the cheerful noise was loudest.
She slowed her steps imperceptibly as she passed.
Mayet was mid-story, her hands animated. “—and then he bowed to the crowd in the poor quarter, not just a nod, a proper, deep bow, and the whole city screamed! I swear, I’ve never seen anything like it. And the way the Pharaoh looked at him after, like he’d hung the very moon—”
Neferet’s perfectly sculpted eyebrow twitched.
Another servant chimed in, “He’s perfect. So kind. So gentle. And he looks like he’ll treat everyone with respect, no matter their station.”
Neferet’s jaw tightened minutely beneath her serene mask.
A third added, dreamily, “I bet the Granduer is with him right now. Probably showing him the private gardens. Or the royal library. Or—”
Mayet giggled, a bright, unguarded sound. “Or the Divine Consort is charming him senseless without even trying.”
The table erupted in laughter, loud and full of uncomplicated joy.
Neferet froze. For a single, telling second, her smooth glide halted. Her smile didn’t falter—it was carved onto her face—but her eyes darkened, the warmth of the room seeming to retreat from her in a chill wave.
Of course, she thought, the words a bitter poison in her mind. Of course he is.
Her imagination, sharp and cruel, conjured the image instantly: Atem, the mighty Grandeur, leaning close to that boy, his gaze soft and unmasked. Yugi’s soft, hesitant voice. The two of them wrapped in each other, secluded in some opulent chamber, forgetting the world, forgetting her, forgetting the years she had spent patiently positioning herself within Atem’s orbit.
Her stomach twisted into a cold, hard knot.
They haven’t even deigned to join their own feast, she thought, the injustice of it burning like acid. They’re alone. Together. Right now. While we all wait.
She forced her feet to move again, gliding past the gossiping servants with a smile that felt like a shard of ice pressed against her own throat.
Behind her, she heard Mayet’s cheerful voice continue, blissfully unaware of the venom she had stirred: “I can’t wait to serve him tomorrow. He seems like the type to remember your name. To actually care.”
Another servant added, “And you know we will work to do anything for him. .”
Neferet’s hands curled into tight, trembling fists within the voluminous sleeves of her gown.
“Mayet,” Neferet said smoothly, her voice a low, melodic hum that nevertheless cut through the lingering echoes of laughter. “You seem… enthusiastic tonight.”
Mayet blinked, startled, her cheeks flushing. The warmth of the conversation quickly dissipated, replaced by a sudden chill. “Oh! Lady Neferet—I didn’t see you there, my lady. My humble apologies.” She rose halfway, a gesture the Lady waved away with a languid hand. “Yes, we were just talking about—”
“The Divine Consort,” Neferet finished for her, her voice light as silk, yet thread with an unmistakable edge. “I gathered.” Her gaze swept over the entire table, a silent command for silence, which was immediately obeyed. The servants exchanged nervous glances, their earlier joy evaporating like morning mist under a harsh sun.
Neferet’s gaze slid back to Mayet, sharp enough to cut, lingering on her glowing face. “You speak of him with such… affection.”
Mayet swallowed, feeling a sudden dryness in her throat. The enthusiastic words that had tumbled out so easily now seemed reckless, foolish. “Well—yes, my lady. He’s very kind. Everyone agrees. And the Grandeur seems so… so content.”
“Enchanted?” Neferet supplied, her smile tightening, the movement barely perceptible. “Utterly captivated? Unable to look anywhere else?”
Mayet hesitated. The words, when spoken by Neferet, sounded less like warm observations and more like veiled accusations. “I… suppose so, my lady.”
Neferet tilted her head, studying her like a curious, perhaps displeasing, insect pinned for observation. “How fortunate,” she murmured, her voice laced with an almost imperceptible sarcasm. “That someone so… delicate… has made such an impression in such a short time.”
Mayet forced a smile, trying to recapture some of her earlier innocent joy. “He’s lovely, my lady. Truly. And he seems like he’ll be wonderful to serve. So gentle.”
Neferet’s eyes narrowed just a fraction, the tiny movement betraying a flicker of something dark and intense beneath her calm facade. “Does he?” she asked softly, the question hanging in the air, weighted with doubt. “You’ve known him for all of—what? An hour? Perhaps five, if you count his arrival ceremony?”
Mayet flushed, feeling the heat creep up her neck. “Well—yes, but—he just has that presence, my lady. Warm. Gentle. He makes people feel at ease instantly. Even the Court of Elders seemed… softened by his light.”
Neferet’s smile sharpened, no longer polite, but predatory. “Of course he does,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain. “Pretty things often do. They catch the eye, don’t they? Like a jewel freshly unearthed, sparkling with the illusory promise of untold value, before its true worth, or lack thereof, is revealed.”
The servants stiffened, a collective ripple of discomfort passing through them. The implication was clear: Yugi was merely a superficial attraction, a temporary bauble.
Mayet, however, felt a tiny spark of indignation. “My lady… is something wrong?” she ventured, her voice barely a whisper, yet brave in its directness.
Neferet’s laugh was soft, airy, and utterly insincere, like the rustle of dry papyrus leaves. “Wrong? No, dear. Why should anything be wrong? I simply find it… amusing… how quickly people become enamored with novelty. Especially those whose perceptions are… limited.” Her gaze flickered over Mayet, dismissing her as a simpleton whose opinions held no weight.
Mayet blinked, her earlier warmth now completely extinguished. “Novelty?”
Neferet took a graceful step closer, her silk gown whispering against the polished floor. She lowered her voice just enough to make the servants lean in, their anxiety deepening. “Tell me, Mayet,” she said sweetly, her eyes, however, were anything but. “Do you know where the Divine Consort is now?”
Mayet shook her head, feeling a knot of unease tighten in her stomach. “No, my lady. I assumed he and the Grandeur were—”
“Alone,” Neferet finished, a dark amusement playing on her lips. “Yes. I imagine they are.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, which remained cold and calculating. “I imagine he’s keeping the Grandeur… very occupied.”
A few servants exchanged awkward glances, understanding the crude implication, however subtly delivered. The warmth of the Pharaoh’s love for Yugi, which had seemed so pure moments ago, was now tainted by Neferet’s veiled suggestion of mere sexual distraction.
Mayet cleared her throat, trying to regain some composure. “I’m sure they’re just resting, my lady. It’s been a long day for both of them. A grand banquet, the ceremony…”
Neferet’s gaze flicked over her, cool and assessing, as if she could see through Mayet’s innocent words to a deeper, more profound naivety. “Of course,” she said. “Resting.” She let the word linger in the humming air, dripping with implication, heavy with unspoken insinuations that corrupted the pure image Mayet had painted.
Then she straightened, smoothing her sleeves with practiced grace, the picture of elegant composure once more. The brief, venomous interlude was over.
“Enjoy your evening, Mayet,” she said, her voice returning to its normal, controlled cadence. “And do try not to get too carried away with your… enthusiasm. One must always remember one’s place, and the fleeting nature of certain… attachments.”
Mayet bowed quickly, her head bowed low, her heart thumping against her ribs. “Yes, my lady. Of course, my lady.”
Neferet turned, her white silk gown flowing around her. She glided away, her expression serene, her steps silent, a shadow melting back into the deeper shadows of the palace. The air she left behind felt suddenly colder, thinner.
But inside? Her thoughts were sharp as obsidian, honed by years of intricate court politics and frustrated ambition.
Let them praise him. Let them adore him. Let them fawn over his delicate features and his gentle words. They are fools, easily swayed by a pretty face and a novel presence.
Her smile sharpened, becoming a thing of razor edges and frozen promise.
We’ll see how long that lasts.
She walked on, the sound of their glowing, adoring praise echoing behind her like a relentless, mocking taunt. The warm, spiced air of the banquet hall felt suddenly thin and suffocating. She needed space. She needed to think.
As she turned the corner, leaving the laughter behind, the last thing she heard was Mayet’s delighted exclamation, a final dagger to her pride: “A little sunbeam! That’s what he is!”
In the silent, dim corridor, Neferet allowed her serene smile to finally vanish. Her face settled into its true nature: cold, beautiful, and hungry.