THE DESERT ROSE | ONGOING

The game of the fate

"Aaaaahhhhh" the screams of her painful voice echoed through the large, empty walls of the palace. Grabbing a handful of her mesmerizing night-black hair, her husband, dragged her down the dimly lit chambers of the palace, mercilessly. She screamed and wailed and wept, but in the palace occupied by fifty official consorts and hundred concubines and maids, no one dared to speak for her life. In fact, they had been running for their own lives, busy gathering valuable clothes and jewelry, to survive the calamity. 

"There's no time to collect your belongings now, run as fast as you can. With all your might! The enemies have destroyed the palace gates and are heading straight to the harem." One of the maids yelled on top of her lungs, "Evacuate the harem, now".

In between the blurry cloud of tears, she could see the chaos and horror dancing inside the extravagant chamber. For a second, she considered herself eloping like the others, desperate for her life if she got the chance but then her royal pride dominated her thoughts. A royal princess would never run away from the enemies. She'd better kill herself than run away. But her husband didn't set her free even at the times of crisis, he'd drag her to the hell with him. He hadn't had enough of her body. His lust is yet to quench.

"Coward! Run as fast as you can", she sneered between her broken sobs, "Bastards like you can only flee."

Her husband grunted, "Shut up your mouth you wench! Or I'll slit your filthy throat into two halves", his clutch on her hair became hard as he hauled her delicate rose-like body to the palace floor.

"Kill me bastard!" she challenged, "death will be a better option than surviving with a cunt like you"

A slap landed on her face, making her lips bleed scarlet, "A slut like you won't understand simple words." He grumbled.

A low menacing laugh came from her mouth, "Are you afraid of killing this slut, my lord?"
Listening to her words laced with venom, her husband's eyes fired with rage. "Although killing the ravishing body of yours would be a shame," he snatched away the sword from his guard's hand, "I shall fulfill this last wish of yours," and with his words, he swung his sword through the air, slashing her throat with its sharp blade.
Pain. An excruciating pain. Although she had heard about the horrors of death, she never imagined that experiencing it would be this aching. She wanted to live, wanted to see the beautiful word, but not as some king's sex slave. She wanted to live freely. And now, seeing her end in front of her eyes, her heart was flooded with mixed emotions. Death was painful but the thought of getting free from his dreadful clutches would be exuberating.

But along with her loud gasp, another piercing shriek vibrated in the chaotic atmosphere. Through her fuzzy vision and shaky breaths, she saw the body of her cruel husband falling in front of her eyes, a pool of blood gushing out of his throat. Her heart, even if it's for a moment, felt satisfied with the sight of him meeting his dreadful end. From the low level of the ground, she could see the royal boots of a person stepping up on the dying body of her husband. The powerful feet of the conqueror, then, advanced towards her with hesitating steps.
Her body flinched, although she was counting her last breaths, she feared the aftermath of her death. She feared the warrior, now approaching her frail body won't misuse her it. His steps halted in front of her and crouched low, picking her body ever so gently that she even forgot her pain for a moment.

"Eshgham...." His husky baritone ringed in her ears. His voice held unbearable pain, that even her dying heart wanted to weep for him. He cradled her pale face near his heart, his hot tears streaming down her face. In his arms, her collapsing life found the solace it yearned since birth. His arms were comfortable secure and surprisingly warm. "I'm too late...." The man broke.

She raised her feeble hand to search for his face when he sensed her weak motion and brought her hand on his face, allowing her to touch him. Her fingers traced the contours of his jaw, the bow of his full lips, the frown of his eyebrow, and the tears on his cheek. Under her fingertips, she could feel him, he was painstakingly beautiful, she could tell even without having a proper look at his devastating beauty. From her foggy vision, the only thing she could see was the pair of striking at the same time haunting silver, like the moon that was shining upon the dreadful night. They were his eyes.....