Written In The Scars

Chapter 4

The Palace was bustling with the rushing footsteps of maids and servants as the evening drew closer.

Abbas stepped out of his room, glancing down the corridors, which were to his satisfaction, empty except for two guards who stood in their usual spots. His curiosity brought him out of his room and he made his way to the Grand Hall, passing many maids and servants who were all too occupied with their duties to notice the Prince sneak in.

The Grand Hall was crowded with people organizing and decorating the room for the banquet later on. The busy atmosphere made Abbas feel nervous and so he shrunk back and ducked behind one of the magnificent marble pillars, spotting Harun standing in the center and directing orders to everyone. He should have been there with his brother helping but decided Harun could handle the situation fine without him. Abbas leaned back against the pillar, feeling comforted by the cool stone, and gazed around.

The Grand Hall itself was a living art of magnificent architecture. The domed ceiling was made of glass which allowed for a glimpse of the evening sky, surrounded by intricate patterns each hand-carved into the hard stone. Colours of crimson, teal and gold swirled within the patterns, blowing life into them as they climbed the walls and pillars. Large arched windows spanned the entirety of the walls but were now concealed with draping maroon-coloured curtains. On one end of the hall stood a swirling marble staircase made of the same milk-coloured stone which leads to the balcony level. The upper floor looped around the circumference of the hall, held up by many magnificent pillars, providing a view of the entire expanse of the hall. Gold scriptures of Arabic calligraphy hung all around the hall, displaying the many beautiful names of Allah.

No matter how many times he had been in the hall, Abbas' eyes would always spot something new, as if the patterns constantly morphed into new shapes. He was one to appreciate art rather than create them, for sadly, his skills mirrored that of toddlers.

Harun had noticed his brother's figure standing by the shadows and it took him every inch to stop himself from running to Abbas. Half of his was still plastered in white, from below his eyes all the way to the top of his lip. As much as he wanted to approach him, Harun knew what his brother wanted the most right now was space, and he wanted to respect that. He couldn't imagine how much his brother was suffering because of his wound.

Abbas was certainly showing signs of healing if he had the courage to come out of his room tonight, and Harun couldn't have been over the moon to see him here. As he watched his brother slip away, his smile dipped at the permanent frown etched on his face, droplets of sorrow inking his heart.

Abbas was lonely, really lonely.

***

The soft thrum of drums and chatter proved to the Prince that the feast had begun. Abbas peered into the hall from its towering doors and felt his heart throbbing furiously. Doubt started clouding his mind, and he suddenly began feeling afraid to face his comrades and despite cursing himself for acting this cowardly, the butterflies in his stomach remained. It had been months since he saw them since they had all returned from battle.

"What do I do?" He mumbled, hiding his face in his hands. Abbas had requested for the royal physician to cover his gruesome stitches, earlier and so now half of his face was concealed in bandaging.

"You do know you can enter?"

The Prince jump and immediately huddle against a stone pillar.

"Who is it?" he scowled with his back to the sound of the voice.

"Abbas, it is only I," Harun replied.

Abbas faced him, his shoulders still hunched and his head low. "You scared me,"