Meri Pehchan

•the backstabber•

The turbulent waves that were about to crash through the walls of Baghdad, would not only upheaval the citadel at the centre, but were also set to destroy the very foundation of the large empire. Glory with its sharp splinters had managed to pierce the slick skins. Pride had infused itself in the soft veins. Hatred had taken root in the cardiac muscles. Anger and anguish, the want to be at top had maimed the soul completely. It was to throw off the entire monarchy of Persia, the revelations were cruel and cold — murder etched in their very being.

While the weather had attained some calmness, with the harsh winds finally trapped amongst the tall tree branches and no longer causing destruction amongst the people, life was returning to normalcy. The warriors had been given an extra week off, their fatigued muscles required that. The sunshine caressed their bare backs, it's bright gold stuck to the battle wounds. Their skins gained back the color of life that had been lost in the battle against Loh — humanity once again flooded into their beings. Men in groups of four and five thronged to meet these new heroes, tough handshakes were exchanged with harsh kisses on the cheeks.

Everyone began to find a routine in the times that were anything but. They had lost their king, forced to abandon him on the tapered ends of their empire. The guilt of which would forever wrap them in its thick velvet cloak. For the first time in the rich history of Persia, a female ruler sat upon the throne. She had eyes as sharp as a hawk, a stride as prideful as the Arabian horses they bred and her beauty was limitless. A handful of kings and former friends had paid their allegiance to her already, in person or via extravagant expeditions sent to her. Now rumors flooded through the busy streets of Baghdad about Queen Alishba's harem.

When Fadahunsi first managed to hear these rumors fury unlike any other had taken control of him. The mark upon his sister's innocence was like a sharp arrow piercing his heart. He had taken it upon himself to avenge her, rushing through inns with a sword in hand — warning them. However, Alishba had him suspended after hearing that. Idle gossip was a part of a common man's life, if they took that away they would find truth in it and rebel. He had not gone into seclusion without fight, he had written to their brother's — in secrecy as they were still at the palace, preparing for a royal feast.

Sitting in the garden of his home, Fadahunsi chewed on a piece of baked dough, dipped in honey. The sweetness from the honey and flakiness of the dough filled his senses. His eyes found the large, awkwardly cut pieces cute and the flavor of cardamom and chopped nuts that crunched under his mortars, better than anything he had ever tasted. Samra had found an interest in learning the in's and out's of Persian cuisine. He had decided to humor her, it was better she stay inside the home than to have her hunched over their garden whilst she was pregnant.

He sighed in pleasure, a cup of steaming hot kehva rested beside him, the bright sun warmed the bones of his body and Samra's soft hands brushed through his overgrown hair. It was the last day of his confinement and she had asked him to let her braid his hair, which he had no troubles with. Her satin dress occasionally brushed the profound muscles of his back, the thick bangles that dangled from her hands grazed the shell of his ear. He could almost imagine her scent as a person in front of him.

"Fadahunsi?" She whispered.

While they were still in their home, Samra knew they could never be cautious enough. Anyone could turn out to be a spy, and so she had to make do with the rules he had explained to her the day after their wedding. She had squinted her eyes to catch a closer look at his face, the sunlight blinding her with it's brightness. Samra was enjoying the way the three strand braid sat on the crown of his face, like an almost proper crown she giggled to herself. He hummed in reply, eyes still closed relishing the sun's heat.

"Why don't I ever see you practicing with your sword?" She asked with genuine enthusiasm.

"A man's real strength lays in the unknown," he smiled, his cheeks sinking in.