Khalifa

46 Throne

Wind in your hair, moon in your skies, puzzles in my soul, answers in your eyes.

— Jay Vespertine

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Him

It has been a long time since he had last seen him. It feels like a fragment of his childhood ripped and faded to dullness now. But when he sees him, he remembers him as well as that last time. If he was a young boy before, he looks to him a learnt man now-- impressive, authoritative, ingenious. After all, from a prince he has become a Khalifa, overcoming the rebellion and claiming the throne of his father.

It has been many long years and he too has grown out of his childhood into his youth. His master presents him before the caliph, hitting him for the nth time now to lower his head against their ruler, but he keeps it held high, stare sharp as he looks Yusuf bin Khalid in the eyes.

"How much for this young man?" Yusuf asks the seller.

"Sayidi, this one is rebellious. He won't be any good to you."

"Name your price. I want no other but him."

The bargain takes place and the caliph buys him from his master. When everyone is dismissed and he's left alone with him, Yusuf gets up from his throne and ties his hands behind his back, coming towards him until they're face to face.

"You spent quite an amount on me for nothing, sayidi," he tells him. "The man was right-- I won't be any good to you."

"I've dug through the world for you, I would've given up my treasures to take you from him. The price he put forth was nothing."

"You killed my father," he hisses.

"What about the fathers he killed?" he asks calmly.

He swallows thickly, having no answer to offer him, and questions instead, "What do you want from me now?"

"You're the joy of my wife, and I can do anything for her. So if not for me, then for your sister, let the past stay behind us." He clasps his shoulder and smiles. "From today onwards, you're part of my palace, not as my slave but as my friend-- my brother. I free you from slavery, akhi."

Her

There are scars etched onto his skin like map markings in desert sand. There are wounds which are fresh, and those dating back to the time she doesn't want to think about. Her fingers hover upon them, grazing the old ones, and skipping the tender ones, sitting beside his bed for hours now while he lies still, breathing steadily and his eyes closed, not once blessing her with a look she craves dearly.

The infirmary is small, and she's left alone with her husband since she has been stubborn and insisted to stick by his side. The night has fallen and the horrors of the morning they had been through are still stabbing her in the heart. The caravan has left without them-- she decided not to leave. She couldn't leave Adam, especially not in the state he's in. She has lost her chance of returning home, to her mother, and burying the past for good. Fate has played her again, like it has been toying with her for the last few months. Maybe she has lost, but at least her love is saved. There remains no regrets for her, for as long as she has him, she knows they'll find a way together.