Queen of Persia ✔️

chapter five

part one: dusk

"Malake," the man behind her spoke calmly. Parisa suddenly felt her stomach turn to the word that came out of his mouth. Malake. Her mother had called her that when she was only a little girl.

"Malake means royalty. It means that you are the queen," her mother had taught her. Farsi is truly a beautiful language, full of surprises, she thought.

Slowly and carelessly, Parisa turned to look at the man behind her. He seemed a little older than Parisa. He had a full-grown beard, and he was just a little skinnier than Arman. But scaringly, he looked quite similar to Arman. But never quite as terrifyingly beautiful. The man had shining black hair. So dark, she could almost sense midnight. Parisa had never seen this man, not even last night. Suddenly, his gaze turned over to Jalaledin who almost seemed startled.

"Jalaledin," the man said in a tough tone. Jalal, who seemed particularly terrified, looked at Parisa once then turned his gaze on them manfully.

"Jahandar," Jalal replied in unison to his unsettled breathing. It was only a few seconds after that Parisa realised who the man standing in front of her was. Jahandar Mohammadi, the right hand. The mastermind behind everything. The only powerful vasir and second to the Shah himself. Only then was the Parisa felt somehow a little safer, compared to when she was alone with Jalal.

"I am⏤" Jalandhar began to speak before he was interrupted by Parisa.

"Jahandar Mohammadi. Yes, I am aware who you are," Parisa answered instead of him before looking at Jalal slightly annoyed. Jalal knew what she had meant when she spoke instead of Jahandar. She had meant to make Jalal seem unimportant and useless. Jahandar, however, seemed quite amused by the way Parisa spoke.

"You my queen, speak without a filter. That I quite like. It's refreshing," he confessed. His confession though, made Parisa laugh. Somehow, her laugh wasn't fake or forced, it was true. Her laugh was freedom and somehow it was calm.

Freedom.

And freedom.

And freedom.

"Shah Arman didn't seem to enjoy my brutal honesty, unlike you," she said amusingly, "That my vasir is quite refreshing," she commented back with a small grin painted along her face. Jalal looked incredibly confused at the way Parisa talked to Jahandar or how she even talked about Shah Arman behind his back. No woman and even no man had the strength to speak in such a way. She spoke with hatred and amusement. A dangerous combination.

"I hope you have had a good start so far," Jahandar allowed himself to speak once more, "considering you weren't supposed to be alive after dawn. But I am quite glad you are. As I said, it is quite refreshing my lady," he explained himself. Unlike Jalal who spoke out of jealousy, Jahandar spoke with might. He spoke with power and kindness somewhere in his heart. Men like Jalandhar were honest and loyal but men like Jalal were unfaithful and full of trickery. Like a sly fox.

"I am glad too," Azin finally spoke from somewhere in the corner. It was the first time in minutes that she had said something. Jalal chuckled at how stupidly arrogant Azin was, answering instead of the Queen. But both Jahandar and Parisa seemed completely unamused by his disrespect.

"Is there something funny Vasir Jalaledin?" Queen Parisa asked, slightly confused. Jalal quickly picked himself up ready to speak back to her. Ready to put a woman back in her place. But before he could, his eyes darted towards something else. Or perhaps someone else. It wasn't Azin or Vasir Jahandar, but someone but taller. Someone much stronger in appearance.

Shah Arman was the first King of the Sassanian Empire.

"I see you have hosted a family meeting Jalal," Arman spoke, standing beside Jahandar. Parisa still never dared to look him straight in the eyes and Arman noticed it every time. He couldn't understand if it was out of fear or shock or perhaps embarrassment. But he noticed everything about her.

"My Shah," Jalal bowed. Parisa still didn't look. She didn't even turn. She didn't need to. She could feel him and his essence behind her without seeing him. It was a strange understanding.

"May I ask what is happening here?" Arman asked once more.

"My Shah, I was just introducing myself to your Queen," he answered almost immediately, "and teaching this lowly servant about respect towards the High Vasirs" he muttered quietly. Parisa could hear Azin's heartbeat speed up and she could see the horrible things Arman would do to torture her. Or perhaps the things he would order his servants to do for him. But whatever it was, he was going to torture her if she didn't step in.

"I believe I can teach my handmaiden respect without your help even though she seemed completely respectful to me, my vasir," Parisa snapped at him. Jahandar's eyes widened in amazement. But Arman didn't seem amazed or amused. He seemed rather angry.

"Who allowed you to speak to my High Vasir like that?" Arman demanded Parisa for answers. She wasn't even slightly scared or even petrified at his tone. She kept calm and steady. She lifted her head like the Queen her mother imagined her to be and turned around to face the Shah.

"I do not need your permission to defend my handmaiden," she answered him without sight of anger or disgust. Just a numb expression. Quite similar to Parisa's expression, Arman kept his face dull. But yet again he always seemed numb and dull. A pure statue of evil.

"You will seek permission from me," he argued with her whilst the other three people stood around them in shock and terror. To strong-headed and arrogant humans standing in front of each other, both equally stubborn. Don't stare at me like that, I may think you have a heart, Parisa thought to herself.

"I will seek no permission from you. May I remind you it was my choice to marry you? It will continue to be my choices from now on and you are in no position to interfere," she hissed at him. Arman did not dare to speak another word. He just stared into her fury filled eyes, trying not to break them. Parisa considered his silence as his defeat once again and stormed off. She wanted him to say something, she wanted him to argue back but she was glad he didn't. Azin curtsied at the three men standing there in silence and ran after Parisa who seemed offendedly angry. Dawn won't be the only thing you wish to see once more my Shah, Parisa thought in her heavy mind.

Beware of the fiery woman, as the poets say and are safe as the civilian's answer