To Dance By Moonlight

Epilogue

Fatima smiled as she rested in the shade. She was finally able to mostly retire, comfortable that Aya could take her place and handle everything well. Hitoka had been a god-send, in that respect, managing what Aya could not, including a cantankerous old biddy like herself.

The years had been kind to her, as well as to the young people who made living in the palace worth every moment.

The Sheikh and Kei, after dealing with the remnants of the Eagle Clan, locking up the ring-leaders in the dungeon, and forcing the rest to scatter to parts unknown, spent the rest of their time figuring out how Kei fit in. It took a while, but soon they found that he was the calm to the sheikh's storm. He could make level-headed decisions, and made sure the sheikh didn't fly too far off the handle. They complimented each other in ways one didn't expect, nor could they figure it out. They just... worked together.

They were perfect for each other, and they both ruled this part of the desert with a fair, yet firm hand. The people loved them, as was often evident when the two went into town; the people greeted them as their own. It was as if they were old friends who were stopping by for a visit. Sometimes they'd go to the market and help with buying goods for the palace, or sometimes they'd just go out to enjoy their town. Even visiting dignitaries left looking proud that they managed to reach an accord with the two young rulers.

The Emir and Ji were the same, beloved by the people; kind, but also stern when necessary. While the Emir still saw over the guard and kept the peace in the town, Ji took over Fatima's duties as housekeeper. Well, sort of. Everyone knew he wasn't a servant, and never treated him like one. Ji was excellent at managing the palace staff. He also made sure the palace was run efficiently and kept in tip top shape. Honestly, the man was better at the job than she'd ever been.

And both couples took the time out of their busy lives to visit her, too. She never failed to bicker with them about it, and yet they still came. Fatima considered them, all of them, her children. Though, she was certain they still saw her as the grumpy old palace cook.

~*~

The years passed, and time marched on, with no regard for anyone. Everyone grew older, and a younger generation was being taught to rule, and to keep the peace. Fatima passed away, as did several of the older ones, including Nekomata. To no one's surprise, Taichi took over as the sheikh's advisor and spymaster, though there wasn't too much need anymore for the latter.

The sheikh had to have an heir, and though neither of them cared for the process, they found a woman who would carry his child. A surrogate mother of sorts. She was the type who had no qualms about relinquishing the child to Kei once he was born, and they hired a wet nurse to feed him. They raised him as only they knew how, and he grew up loved by everyone. When the time came, Amir would become Sheikh in his father's stead.

Though he was roughly the same age as Bokuto, Eita was trained as the next Emir. He already had a firm grasp of how things were done, but he also added fresh new ideas to replace the outdated policies. He would, in turn, train his son to take over for him once the time came.

And so it did.

~*~

Time marched on, as it always did. Eventually, Amir was Sheikh, Taichi's daughter took his place, and Eita's son was the new Emir.
Time marched on, generation by generation. The palace and the town surrounding it eventually became an oasis for travelers to stop on their way to the bigger cities.
The palace became a luxury hotel, and the town market held more souvenir shops than useful goods.

But, the memories remained in portraits and traditions. Tour guides told stories about the palace and the people who once lived there. Tourists went away with the memories of those stories, and told them to their friends and families, while showing pictures of points of interest. Especially a particular portrait of four handsome young men, all with smiles and stories behind their names.

One day, a little girl stood staring at the huge portrait, hung above the landing of the grand double staircase. When her father found her, she smiled and pointed at the subjects of the portrait.

"Who are they, Daddy?" she asked as he crouched down beside her.
"Well, do you remember what the nice lady told us?"
The little girl nodded enthusiastically. "The dark haired one, with silver eyes; he was the one of the Sheikhs who lived here."
"Right! What else do you remember?"
"The one seated next to him, with golden hair like the moon and eyes the color of burnt..."
"Burnished," he corrected gently.
"Burnished gold. He ruled alongside the Sheikh. He was a dancer and the Sheikh's special friend."
"Indeed he was," he replied, mentally thanking the tour guide for not going further indepth about the two lovers. That was a talk for another time. "What about the two behind them?"
"They were the Sheikh's Emir, and his special friend, who was considered very beautiful with his midnight hair and sea colored eyes," she quoted the lady from the tour. "Daddy, I like the Emir's hair! It's both silver and black!"
"Very unique," he agreed. "Are you ready to go? Your mom says it's time for lunch."
The little girl clapped and cheered, holding her arms up. Her daddy dutifully picked her up and, before they left, they took one last look at the portrait. They looked as if the four of them were inseparable. Later, once his daughter was asleep, he was going to find out all he could about them. He had an idea for a story, and these four inspired him to write it.

Smiling at his daughter, they made their way out of the hotel and down to where his wife stood waiting for them.