King Hussain stared at the casket of his son Umar,a tear betraying him as his sons body earned refuge in the Earth. Even as a king of a prosperous country he knew a man's kingdom was his family regardless of status in society, rich or poor. Umar had been groomed since childhood to be the next king of Nejemard, knowing full well that even before he could walk that he will sit on the throne; eternal glory will be his. Maybe it was this knowledge that drove his arrogance, thinking he was above death and therefore above Allah.
For pride was what even once got Allah's most beloved teacher of angels banished from Heaven.
King Hussain had prayed countless times that Umar would learn humility and become a respectable king that would lead this country to greatness but a small part of him doubted his son's ability to rule and was often lost in thought of the possibility that Umar would take his beloved country to the ground. Even through Umar's adolescence he had always been the king of his own little kingdom, being a male, the first-born and beautiful Umar had been showered with gifts and affection, order's completed without him ever having to utter a single word. What many relatives adored and often called innocence was really spoiled childishness. Astagfirallah. It was not the time to think ill of his son and the sins he committed but to think well of him in the memories he possessed, as he himself regardless of being a king was human so naturally he sinned and every-time he put his head in prostration on the prayer may he begged his Lord to forgive him.
With the death of his son, he was now faced with a daunting task. Who will be his heir? Who will ascend the throne? Who is worthy? For many years Hussain had been king and still to this day he made mistakes and learned from them, the life of a king is one of burden and he would never wish this burden upon anyone. Countless possibilities ran through his head but suddenly he was captivated in the memory of Saif his other son when he was just at the tender age of seven.
Papa, I don't understand," A seven year old Saif inquired as he sat on the lap of his father, playing with his juba. Papa. Not King of Nejemard. Not Your Royal Highness. Papa.
"Understand, what Habibi?" Hussain replied.
"Why I have so much, when there are countless children just like me except they don't have anything."
"What would you have done then my son?" Hussain asked, deeply interested in what his son had to say. He knew the source of the question as Saif had just come back from travelling from the poorer regions of Nejemard as Hussain found it extremely important that his children realise the privilege they have been blessed with an not abuse it. Hussain could see the clog's turning in Saif's head as he spoke. " I want to help them. Maybe we can have a palace open day in which the children can come and get adopted or we can build school for them, boys and girls alike in which they can be fed and clothed, warm with a roof over their heads."
As his son rambled on about all the other possibilities that could help the citizens, a light smile found its way onto Hussain's lips as he stroked the soft curls on Saif's head, knowing fully well that his son many never sit on the throne to rule the citizens of Nejemard but will always rule his heart on what is best for the country he was born and bred in.
With the sweet recallation of this memory, King Hussain had finally decided on who was to be the next King of Nejemard.
For royal blood ran through his veins he was every bit a king.
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Hey guys! This is my first book so of course the writing isn't going to be that good, but if you like it comment and vote.
- Love Kai, Always xx
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Desert Winds
الخيال (فانتازيا)"I will live to see the next dawn, I promise you that." ---------------------------------------------------------- The streets of Nejemard are overflown with the crimson blood of their daughters. Fahsiad , Caliph of Nejemard has condemned the death...
