Heretic of El Amarna

Chapter 28: Nefertiti

Three Years Later:

I held the newborn child, a broad smile on my face.

Amenhotep stood beside me, a similar grin on his face. “She is beautiful…” He whispered, letting the dark haired baby grasp his finger as she cooed and smiled at us. “What is her name?” He asked.

We had agreed that I would name the first daughter we had.

I thought for a few moments then I murmur, “Her name is Meritaten.”

The nurses around us bustled on with their work, letting me have privacy with my first child and husband. I was exhausted after the birth. It was a difficult one.

But I was also happy to finally be able to hold the little one I’d been carrying around for nine months.

Amenhotep was just as pleased. He smiled at our baby daughter, which made her give a high-pitched baby giggle. “Meritaten…” He whispered. “It is perfect.”

I grinned. It made me happier than ever to know he approved of the baby’s name.

Overall, I had enjoyed the whole pregnancy thing. I hadn’t thought I would like being pregnant. I had heard awful stories from Queen Tiye and others of the older women around court. But I had no other choices.

Amenhotep’s father had passed on a few months after Thutmose and his sisters – except Isit – had died. We had become the new Pharoah and Great Wife.

Not really by choice. It wasn’t something Amenhotep was happy about.

He was a family man and always would be. He would much rather focus on me and the new addition to our family and ignore his duties as Pharoah entirely. And he would if Tiye didn’t keep him up and going.

Well, Tiye and myself. I wouldn’t let him neglect his duties to our people either.

And the last three years we have worked hard to make Egypt prosperous, all while biding our time, waiting for the right moment to reveal to all of Egypt the truth.

Amenhotep had gradually been making the worship of the Aten more and more prominent in Egypt and the worship of the other gods less so. We were hoping it would help to lessen the shock when we cut off funding to the temples of all gods but the Aten and established our monotheistic religion.

We were naïve to believe such a thing, but believe it we did.

Amenhotep had doted on me with single-minded devotion during all nine months of my pregnancy. Not that he didn’t dote on me all the other times too, but he paid even more attention to me while I was pregnant – something I appreciated greatly.

Isit burst through the door, her face glowing. “Where is my neice? They just told me that I could come visit now!”

I laughed, holding out Meritaten to Amenhotep so that her proud father could hold her and show her off to his sister.

Isit cooed at the baby, tickling her belly a little and earning a laugh from our daughter.

I smiled, enjoying listening to my baby.

My baby.

It was strange to think that – at just eighteen – I was a mother. I knew many other girls in Egypt were married and had a child or two by fifteen, maybe sixteen or seventeen, but somehow, I had still entertained the notion that I wouldn’t be a mother for many more years.

But the Great Wife of a young pharaoh had no such luxuries. She was expected to bear an heir as soon as possible.

Which was an issue, I contemplated. My child was a girl, not a boy. Meaning that – while her hand would be greatly sought after – she couldn’t inherit the throne should something untimely happen to Amenhotep.

I didn’t want to think on that though. He wasn’t going to die. We weren’t engaged in any wars – and weren’t planning on any for a long time – and he wasn’t ill. He was the picture of robust health and so was I. Nothing bad was going to happen to either of us.

Still, it nettled at my heart that I hadn’t been able to bear him a son instead of a girl. I loved my daughter very greatly already, but that small voice of doubt whispered that Amenhotep would be less than pleased with me for not having a baby boy instead of the daughter he was holding.

I pushed it away. Amenhotep wasn’t like that, and he looked so happy holding our daughter, our little Meritaten, that it was difficult to even imagine that he would be upset. It needled at me anyway though.

Isit disappeared after a while, needing to get back to her duties, and the nurses left, cautioning Amenhotep to come and get them if something went wrong with me.

He set the baby back into my arms, watching us both with obvious adoration.

Hesitantly, I opened up the subject I’d been worrying on the whole time Isit was here. “Amenhotep?”

“Hmm…” He stroked my damp hair off my face.

“Are you…” I hesitated, looking away, suddenly unsure how to broach the topic.

“Am I what?” He asked, cupping my chin in his hand to make me look him in the eye.

“Are you… disappointed th..that I did not b…bear a son?” I stammered, afraid of the answer.

He gave me an astonished look. “How could you even think that?” He asked, eyes wide, his fingers still on my chin.

I looked down at Meritaten, avoiding his gaze. “Because… I know how important it is that I have a son so that you have an heir… And your mother said…”

He gave a low growl of frustration. “What did she say now? Did she tell you that you were of less worth to me if you did not bear a son? Nefertiti, this is your first pregnancy, for Aten’s sake! You cannot possibly believe that I would think less of you because it was a daughter… We can have another child. You can still have a boy… There is no reason for that thought to come into your head.”

I blushed. “Well… The women of the court and your mother did mention that if I had a daughter you might despise me or be disappointed because it was not an heir.” I caught his annoyed stare. “I am sorry, Amenhotep. It was a foolish notion. Truly, it was. I do not know why I ever entertained it.”

He smiled softly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my lips. “You are tired and worn out from the birth. My mother and the other women at court are all dreadful gossips and some of them are naught but irritating old crones. Doubt yourself not because you bore me a daughter… I love her as much as I would have loved her if she had been a boy instead.”

I sighed, feeling reassured. With a nod, I whispered, “I am sorry for doubting you, Amenhotep… I will not listen to them on those counts again.”

“I should hope not…” He stood up, brushing one last strand of my sweat-soaked black hair out of my face. “You should stand up for yourself more often, love… I worry about you…” He stared down at Meritaten, who had fallen asleep in my arms, her tiny baby’s fist in her mouth as she sucked at her fingers contentedly.

I stared down at her too. “I do… I will…” I managed.

He nodded. “I know you will...” He sighed, smiling at the sleeping Meritaten and bending over to press a soft kiss to her wrinkled forehead. “She looks just like you… With every ounce of her mother’s beauty…”

I smiled up at him, but he must have sensed my weariness because he murmured, “I will go now, but I shall come see you again tomorrow… I love you and our baby… Do not forget that on any account.” He gave me one last, lingering kiss and then slipped out of the room.

A few moments later, a nurse came in to take Meritaten and lay her to rest in a tiny cradle. I dropped off to sleep moments after.