Name: Ahmose-Merit-Aten Sat-Nesu
(Born of the Moon, Beloved of Aten, Daughter of the King)
Aliases or Nicknames:
To servants, she's Princess Ahmose, to servants in favor with her she's just Ahmose, but this can change so the servants have to stay on their toes, Little Aten is her mother's nickname for her when she's talking to the king (king of an old royal version of YOUR daughter). Ironically, the king uses Little Aten as a term of endearment toward Ahmose when he's feeling proud of her.
Era:
Pre-Rift
Appears In:
Beverlee Hills Mummy
Importance:
Secondary character, but she's the nemesis of the main character.
Main Goal:
To rule.
Relationship to Other Characters:
Daughter of Neferkheperu Amenhotep IV and Sitdjehuti, owner of Nakia.
Author's Personal Canon Note:
Ahmose is based on a cousin that I lived with for a year who abused me in every she could think of. My cousin is a human being, and I have often hoped for her to get some therapy and become a better person, but from what I understand, she's still horrible and hurts her own kids. So, for me, Ahmose does not EVER get a redemption arc. She can be sympathetic, multi-dimensional, charming, relatable, funny, stunningly beautiful, whatever. But she will never be a decent human being. We can empathize with the circumstances that made her the way she is, but at the end of the day, her own free will has the deciding vote.
I understand that this website is about exploring the possibilities across multiple parallel universes and even full-on foreign universes, and you are welcome to write as many redemption arcs as you want, but Ahmose as a good person is not a universe I will ever write about. My cousin does not deserve it. Her kids deserve better in this world. I deserved better. I haven't toned down her cruelty out of any regard for her; I just don't have the stomach to ask people to read about shit that dark.
Backstory/Infodump:
Ahmose is born around 1500 BC to fictional Pharoah Neferkheperu Amenhotep IV and Sitdjehuti (nickname Satibu). She was raised by wet nurses and attendants. She receives lessons in etiquette, religion, and music. Even as a small child, she is decked out in elaborate clothing and jewelry. She's constantly told that she's special, but her mother discourages physical affection, after around the age of four.
Other people don't seem quite real to her because they bow to her, they anticipate her needs, they aren't allowed to tell her "no". Their worlds revolve around her, but she knows nothing about theirs. She feels pampered, like a doll who is expected to sit in her perfect little dollhouse all day but never move unless she's told to, and even then she's told where to move and how.
When she is seven, she is left unattended for a few minutes, and she ends up wandering off. It's summer, so she catches heat stroke. A field worker picks her up and takes her home. She is nursed and coddled by the women of the village. The peasants recognize her and sent message to the palace. The king and queen, who were not aware that the princess was missing drop everything to pick her up from the village. Because she's so sick from the heatstroke, she isn't scolded, just cuddled by her parents, who take her home.
The next time she makes her way to the village, she is less celebrated, and her parents do scold her when she's taken home. But she escapes to the village so often that she becomes its unofficial mascot. She likes it best when she's treated as just another child of the village. She's able to blend better once she learns to take off her jewelry before setting off. (Her mother doesn't like it when she gives it away.)
She adopts Meryt and Paseru as her village parents. They have a four-year-old daughter named Nakia that Ahmose pretends is her sister. (She's not allowed to fraternize with the children of her father's other wives.) When she gets tired of being treated like a normal child with chores and getting scolded for doing dangerous things, she returns to the palace. Ages 7-10 are an ideal time in her life because she can switch between physical luxury and emotional comfort whenever she feels like it.
Ideally, she'd have both, and that's what she thinks will happen when she turns ten and decides that Nakia will come to the palace and be her closest personal attendant. (Nakia is seven.) Her parents agree, but her happiness is soured when Meryt and Paseru are sad to lose Nakia. Meryt makes Ahmose promise to protect Nakia. Ahmose agrees but is privately frustrated. Ahmose is supposed to be Nakia's responsibility, not the other way around.
She's also hurt that Meryt and Paseru seem to think she's stealing their daughter, when she thought that they thought of her as a daughter. She, as the princess, should be more important to them than their stupid peasant child. Insult is added to injury when Nakia also cries when she realizes that she's leaving her parents.
For Ahmose, who runs off to the village almost every day, the only thing that she thought was changing was that Nakia would be coming and going with her. When everyone is upset, it occurs to her to let Nakia stay, but a small, petty part of herself wants to punish everyone for being sad. As though rescuing Nakia from a hot, dusty village was some sort of punishment, not a reward.
Some part of her understands the community that comes from proximity and relying on each other -- that's why she's obsessed to going to the village in the first place. But she shakes off that thought and also thinks that maybe the village isn't that great and maybe she doesn't want to visit it very much anymore.
For the next few years, Ahmose's life becomes more structured, with her education ramping up. Now she is also learning about ceremonial roles and making appearances at court rituals. She begins to understand politics, dynastic expectations, that she may be married for alliance (this explains why her mother doesn't look at her father the way that Meryt looks at Paseru). This is when her personality sharpens. To most people she appears witty, charming, and charismatic, but underneath she feels trapped, watched, and constantly evaluated.
At first, she showers Nakia with gifts; nice clothes, a comfortable bed, excellent food, some education. They still visit the village together frequently, and Nakia seems happy enough, but she obviously misses living her family. As time goes on, they visit the village less and less frequently. Ahmose remains generous, but she will fly into rages and take or break all of the gifts. Nakia's devotion never seems to shake, and she never seems particularly attached to any of the gifts, anyway. For whatever reason, these things only enrage Ahmose.
By the time she's thirteen and Nakia is ten, Nakia is not allowed to leave Ahmose's room or fraternize with the other servants. Over time, Ahmose has convinced the servants that Nakia is a cruel gossip so they don't like Nakia anyway. Ahmose takes away the nice clothes and bed and food until Nakia has one too-small shift that she's only allowed to wash once a month. She no longer has a bed, she sleeps on the marble floor underneath Ahmose's hammock. Ahmose frequently vents her stress on Nakia by beating her, so Nakia is constantly covered in bruises. And through all of this, Nakia's devotion never seems to waver. This is a comfort and a frustration to Ahmose who stops thinking of Nakia as human at all.
Now that she’s becoming a young woman, Ahmose participates more in court life: festivals honoring Aten, diplomatic ceremonies, public appearances, sings hymns to Aten, presents offerings, and stands beside the king during rituals. This reinforces her identity as a semi-divine royal figure. At the same time she cultivates fashion, influence over servants, and subtle political awareness. This is when people begin to notice that she's formidable as well as beautiful, like her mother.
When she's sixteen, her future becomes a political issue. Her possible paths are marriage to a noble or priest, marriage within the royal family, or remaining unmarried but politically useful. None of these options appeal to her. Court factions begin to circle around her. Outwardly she’s poised and dazzling, privately she feels terrified of losing control of her life.
At some point, in this period, she discovers Nakia playing senet with the king. And that this is something that they do secretly, often. Her sense of betrayal is real, her rage is violent and long-lasting.
When she's nineteen, her father dies. The world she grew up in is collapsing. The religious system centered on Aten is controversial, nobles are nervous, priests want revenge, and the royal family’s position is fragile. Ahmose responds to that chaos by tightening control over everything. In her mind, the logic is simple: Disorder leads to suffering. Obedience creates harmony. Therefore forcing obedience is mercy. Once she believes that, almost anything becomes justifiable.
By this point, she can't even remember ever having had any affection for Nakia. Nakia seems to get stupider, uglier, and more useless every year, and the guilt that Ahmose feels regarding the way she treats Nakia can only be justified so much. She considers letting Nakia just go and be a peasant again but Nakia knows the depths of Ahmose's cruelty, along with all of her other secrets. The only answer is to kill her.
Retainer sacrifice is a very old tradition in which a king is buried with attendants, money, and other comforts, so that he'll have everything he needs in the Afterlife. By this time in history, the tradition of killing servants has fallen out of favor and "servants" are represented by small statues. Ahmose convinces her mother to reinstate retainer sacrifice for her father because she "doesn't want to take any chances" that he won't have what he needs.
Satibu is game. She allows Nakia to be killed and also uses the reinstatement in order to remove enemies, reward loyalty, and demonstrate that resistance has consequences.
Ahmose should feel like a real piece of shit -- and she does. But, to maintain her self-image, she cultivates gestures that convince her she is compassionate. Things like talking casually with servants, remembering the names of stable boys, sneaking in common street food, funding a performer, singer, or storyteller she likes.
As she's further groomed and then takes over as ruler after her mother dies, she has two versions of herself in her head. First, there's Ahmose the Just -- protector of tradition, friend of the common people, restorer of ancient customs, humble despite royal power. And then there's Ahmose the Necessary who punishes traitors, removes threats, enforces loyalty, maintains order at any cost.
Whenever she does something terrible, she tells herself, “This is what Ahmose the Necessary must do so Ahmose the Just can protect the kingdom.”
Common people are fascinated by her charisma, impressed by her interest in ordinary life, and unsure what rumors to believe. Court officials are wary of crossing her, impressed by her intelligence, and unsure where her limits are. Close servants aware to some extent of her volatility, careful around her moods, loyal but frightened.
Once immediate threats fade after her parents' deaths, Ahmose shifts into image-building. Her court becomes known for lavish festivals, theatrical religious ceremonies, music, poetry, and dance, as well as striking fashion and visual symbolism. She understands spectacle. This period makes her famous among ordinary people.
By her mid-twenties Ahmose has ruled long enough to accumulate real enemies. Court politics intensify. Ahmose becomes more guarded. In the palace, she starts to limit who can approach her, private conversations become rare, punishments become harsher.
She still maintains the public persona of the accessible ruler. She walks among market crowds, chitchats with peasants about upcoming harvests and local concerns, listen to street performers and eat street food. The whole time, her guards are invisible, so she seems as down-to-earth as ever but is really just performing humility.
In her late twenties, the duality of her personality is starting to become part of public conversation. The rumors range between acts of kindness or humility she has performed as well as her ruthless ability to destroy entire noble families and secretly has rivals killed. Both sets of rumors help her rule. Admiration creates loyalty. Fear prevents rebellion.
In her final years, forty-five to fifty, she's publicly radiant, privately ruthless. She continues her elaborate court life, patronizes performers, and occasionally mingles with peasants to reassure herself she’s “humble.” She also enforces her power: Retainer sacrifices, intimidation of nobles, and subtle eliminations continue. Everyone fears her, yet she believes her legacy is safe. She's sure she'll be remembered forever.
Death: At a ceremonial river festival on a palace canal or Nile tributary, Ahmose is adorned in gold, lotus crowns, elaborate robes. The court gathers in awe, music and incense filling the air. She boards a ceremonial boat. A sudden slip, misstep on the gilded deck. She falls into the water. She struggles briefly, surrounded by attendants and nobles. She dies.
Nobles and priests continue the narrative of “divine favor” in public texts, but later regimes erase her entirely. Her grand monuments, inscriptions, and records vanish from official history.
The only surviving artifact that leads directly back to her existence is a pendant that the king gave to Nakia, that Ahmose found after Nakia's death. (The entire country hear her screech of rage that day.)
