Queen of Persia ✔️

chapter twenty-seven

For days, it had almost felt like they had no problems in life. For days, they finally felt like they could live the life they wanted. But sometimes life wasn't all kind and caring. Sometimes life brought different horrid feelings upon your shoulders. Feelings and doings that could destroy the people around you.

Almost a month ago, Parisa was stabbed by one of the most trusted people in the kingdom. Almost a month ago, Vasir Jalal disappeared along with Afshin. No one knew how they were. No one knew if life was harsh or kind to them. But one thing everyone knew was that if Parisa was to find either of them, she would show no one mercy.

"Have you found him yet?" Parisa asked Arman that morning. Arman responded with the tilt of his head. It was almost as if the Vasir had melted right into the ground. The soldiers were sent out to check every nook and cranny of the country, but no one found him. And no one had seen him in a month. Not even his wife. His wife, Nadia, had been exiled right after Arman found out about Jalal. Parisa could still remember her painful face. She was crying and slamming the ground, begging Arman to spare him. And he did. But instead, he threw her out of the palace with nothing but a pair of clothes. No matter what she did to Parisa, Parisa couldn't help but feel bad for the poor girl. After all, it was Jalal's doing not hers.

"We will find him soon. I promise," Arman finally replied, holding Parisa's hand as a promise. He then mouthed the same words three times, a promise to three different people. Yet someone his promise felt short awaited. His promise felt like it was almost a half promise. But she trusted him, so what was bugging her? What felt out of place?

"Should we visit Aziz today?" she asked, trying to clear her mind and his too. They needed a refreshment from their struggles, and family was the closest answer they had to freedom. He nodded, as she walked him towards the door. As they walked through the garden to the other side of the palace, Arman saw a beautiful white rose. Tempted to pick it, he walked over snipping the stem of the rose with the thorns still attached. As he was about to cut them off, Parisa stopped him.

"Leave the thrones. They too are a part of the flower. The good and the bad. The pretty and the ugly," she reminded him subtly. A reminder so life changing. A reminder holding them together. The reminder of light and dark. And so, he left the thrones on, handing the flowers to Parisa as a gift.

"For you," he smiled in innocence. But she didn't accept the flower.

"Give it to Aziz. She will love them," Parisa recommended. He drew his hand back, agreeing with her idea. For almost five years, he had avoided seeing his own grandmother. And now, only because Parisa was here, he finally had the will and strength to visit her again. Seeing her yesterday was one of the most beautiful things he had experienced. Together, they entered the hallways walking towards Aziz Banu's room. And suddenly out of silence stroke a scream. A scream so heart tightening. It was long after the first scream that the two of them realised where the scream was coming from. Aziz Banu's room. In unison, they rushed to the room only to be held back but what they saw.

A sword plunged into Banu's chest. She collapsed onto the ground with a puddle of blood around her. Beside her stood a man. A man so familiar to Arman and Parisa. A man so sinful. Vasir Jalal. He held the sword handle plunging it out of Aziz Banu. Arman's eyes widened to the sight of his grandmother being murdered. Anger spread through him like electricity. Pain was a wicked soul. Parisa screamed like no other time, rushing towards the lovely grandmother on the ground.

With no time to waste, Arman charged towards Jalal as Jalal finally realised, they had seen him. Without a thought or a minute of regret, he sliced Jalal in half, leaving traces of his blood all over the marble ground. With Jalal's body, he fell too. He fell onto his knees as a scream roared through him.

Beside him, Parisa held onto Aziz Banu's head, brushing her hair as she took her last breaths. Parisa could barely see her face through her tears. Screams of pain filled the air. The first person to welcome her had just been murdered right in front of her.

"My boy," she whispered as her voice broke up. Arman couldn't bear to look at her. The rose he had brought for her was now painted in red. Painted with blood. And finally, his eyes turned to her. His red sore eyes. He held her hand regretting every moment in his life. "Be brave my boy. Love my boy," she whispered as Darya rushed into the room with a scream. She too was now on the ground beside Aziz, sharing their last moments together. Arman nodded, unable to cry. He couldn't cry. His eyes didn't allow him to. Instead, he bottled up every feeling of grief buried in him.

Parisa was leaning on the wall with her legs scrambled against her chest. She watched as their family broke apart. She watched as Aziz took her last breath before giving her life to the stars. She watched Darya yell for her to come back. She watched Arman lose himself, yet not show a single emotion. She watched it all. But somehow, she couldn't watch herself. She couldn't see her own face. All she could feel was the wet tears washing her face. She looked beside her to see Jalal covered in blood. Dead. She didn't feel guilty for his death. Rather she felt nothing. She was numb.

For hours, they mourned Aziz Banu. A loving grandmother. A wonderful woman. Someone so kind Parisa couldn't register her loss. For hours, they cried in each other's arms not daring to let go of Aziz. This was only a reminder that life isn't happy. Rather, life is horrid. Life is a destroying factor. A factor to make us stronger. But people can only tolerate so much pain before they snap.