To Love A Prince

1.

***

The day was like any other, hot and dry with the sweltering heat rising to near boiling point. It rose steadily, and as the sun got higher, so too did the feverish tempo in the air. There was an electric charge in every person's heart now, a stirring within the streets of Azrah which began at the crack of dawn. This was no ordinary day. It was a day unlike any other; a day of joy, festivity and pure, undiluted happiness.

Because today, the crown prince of the kingdom, Prince Arafat Muhammad, would be returning after fifteen years abroad.

One had to be there to feel the tension in the air, and the whispering in every corner where young and old would gather to share their collective guesses.

"He has returned to succeed the Sultan and take his rightful place on the throne," some could be heard saying. "His Majesty is getting old, and he would want his son by his side now more than ever."

"But what about Prince Bello?" the others would ask. "While the crown prince has been away, he has served his Majesty and this kingdom well. Surely it couldn't be something about ruling the kingdom which has prompted this return, otherwise Prince Bello would handle it by himself."

The argument would continue there, and when the group would depart, each would have their own convictions, believing in their heart of hearts that they were right and everyone else was wrong.

Coincidentally, the return of the prince coincided with the annual durbar festival, which was always a spectacle in the city. Both young and old would gather in the streets and watch the thousands of horses riding through in a colorful parade, their riders as elegantly dressed as the beasts themselves. The dust and noise was everywhere, and every once in a while, a particularly skilled rider would break through the crowd, and as the clattering of hooves would send the people into a wild frenzy, causing them to break apart and cheer wildly as the rider blazed past them, all would be united in the love of an ancient tradition, a culture which ran as deep as the very blood which coursed through their veins.

All through the afternoon, Prince Bello sat atop the balcony of the tallest minaret of the palace, and he gazed down at the flurry of colors and the beating of the drums which set his soul on fire. It was like this every year, except this year there was more excitement than ever before. And it all had to do with his brother's return.

Bello scoffed at the thought of Arafat riding through the streets. What a sight that would be indeed. The last time he saw his brother on a horse, it was only for a split second before the horse threw him off and into the dung in the shed. Bello had laughed, since he was more skilled than his brother when it came to riding a horse.

As for everything else, Arafat was simply better than him. And there was no way of putting it which would soften the blow.

He didn't begrudge him his luck, however. Fate had destined that Bello would be second in everything, and he had long since accepted his fate. It would not do to feel any hatred towards his brother for something which was entirely not his fault. Arafat didn't give birth to himself after all. And jealousy was not a trait which was taught within the walls of the palace.

And so, perhaps, his happiness was akin to everyone else's in the kingdom. Everyone was looking forward to the moment when their beloved prince would return.

All but two people, it would soon be revealed.

At noon, just when the sun was high enough in the sky that everyone would begin to seek out shelter, a frenzy broke out from the northern gate. The cheering was deafening, and the stampede of people rushing to be the first to sight Prince Arafat was wild and uncontrollable. From the top of the palace, Bello could see all the way to the northern gates, where there were so many people that it was impossible to pick out a single person.