Random Imagines

Imagine a 1001 Nights

It was her 447th day as queen.

Rumors had erupted across the country. The queen who had lasted more than 13 moon cycles. People's urgent whispers regarding if she was the one, the woman who would finally tame their bloodthirsty king. Eyes that had never noticed her before now looked at her with newfound respect.

Saro didn't want it. She wanted to go back to being a nobody, someone who others didn't notice or didn't care for. She wanted to go back to the shadows she had grown so fond of.

But I can't.

She sighed, dragging her braid over her shoulder. She had resorted to simple wear, a plain red skirt with a golden border and a crimson blouse with golden bands stretching around the arms. She wore a simple, patterned cloth around her body, enough to cover her exposed waist and neck and some of the arms. She knew many disapproved of her simplicity, but it reminded her of quiet days besides Hastani and Lola, and the memory soothed the terrible ache in the pit of her stomach.

Saro glanced up to see a small, quivering girl approach her, cheeks flushed with nervousness. She peered down at her cautiously, a confused frown on her face.

The girl stuck out her hand, a neatly rolled parchment sitting on the palm of her hand. "From the King."

Saro nodded, lifting it up from the girl's dainty hand. "Thank you," she said awkwardly.

The girl's eyes welled up with sudden tears. Saro blinked in surprise as the girl dipped into a slight bow before running down the corridors, crying to herself. Saro stared at her receding form in surprise, glancing back at Malini.

"Did I do something?"

Malini inclined her head. "Of course not, madame. Rathi was always a touch sensitive. It will pass."

Saro frowned, nodding. She glanced back down at the scroll in her hands, biting her lip. She unwrapped it carefully, splitting open the parchment.

Wife,

You will come to my room tonight.

-your king.

She frowned, carefully folding the paper and placing it back into Malini's hand.

"No need for you to accompany me tonight," she told her, "I can get dressed on my own, and I know where to go."

Malini stepped back, looking troubled. "Your majesty--"

"I'll be fine, Malini," Saro reassured her.

***

Moments like these were common, where they both just sat in mutual silence, no tension or anxiety. She didn't fully understand how this came to be, how she felt comfortable sitting in the presence of a murderous king and feeling no fear. Had she come to terms with her own demise? No, that couldn't be it—she was certain she didn't want to die, not yet anyway.

I suppose I'm just adapting to a state of constant peril.

"I've noticed," he began in his airy voice, shaking her out of her daze, "you've been wearing simpler apparel."

She blinked. "What?"

He shrugged. "Three necklaces became two, two became one. You lost the mahendi, the diamonds, the elaborate saris. Now, you're wearing a commoner's garb."

It was true. She was wearing a simple, blue sari with a plain, broad gold border, her head covered in a feathery veil. Her neck was ornamented with her crescent moon necklace, her ears pinned with gold dome-shaped earrings. Other than that, she was bare of any jewelry.

He went on, expression bemused. "Is it befitting of a queen to wear such garments?"

She inclined her head slightly. "I am no queen, my king."

Salomon grinned. "Aren't you?"

"No. There was no coronation, or wedding ceremony for that matter. I still await your judgement."

"And the days that have passed—450, about—do they not matter? The time you have spent here, in this palace, in this position, are they insignificant?"

She was quiet for sometime. "A crane awaits its prey on the bank of a river, still and silent as stone. It coaxes the fish into a sense of safety and ease. Then, when the fish least expects it, the crane devours its prey."

A tangible silence settled between them. Then, out of the blue, he laughed, eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Am I a crane in your eyes, love?"

"Of course not, your highness. My point is that I am no fish."

His eyes cooled with satisfaction and slight hostility. "You are not wrong. Do not let the time passed fool you, Saro. I will kill you in the blink of an eye. Just because I let you live doesn't mean I want you as a queen."

Saro flinched, but did not respond. He stood up, stretching leisurely and heading for the door. In front of the threshold, he stopped.

"No stories tonight, my dove. I'll be gone to Uttra for three sunsets." His voice was cold, unfeeling. She perked up, heart lifting. She glanced up at him, only to find him staring at her, intently studying her. She tried to keep her expression passive, but her mind was thrumming.

Three sunsets.

She swallowed, unable to look away from his intense, crow-black eyes. They both knew what his departure meant.

Relief.

His presence in the kingdom was a cause for alarm in her life. All it would take was for a careless word or disrespectful gesture for him to lose all interest and order her execution. But now, for the first time in 447 days, he was leaving. She would be able to sleep without having to worry about the guards parked outside her door barging in and slitting her throat in the middle of the night.

And perhaps, with his departure, she could find a way to run.

A chance to be free.

Before she could celebrate any further, he spoke again.

"You will stay. You will be kept in this room. There will be no leaving till I return."

Her heart sank at that. Any hope she had for escape had just vanished. Sensing her distress, he grinned, cupping her chin and tilting her head up with unseeming gentility.

"Don't fret, Saro," he mused, "I'll return soon. I would never part with my beloved wife for longer than a moon cycle."

His tone was openly mocking. Saro felt a hot flash of anger flood her."Then perhaps you ought to stay in Uttra for the course of the moon cycle."

His smile faded, and she instantly regretted her words. A few, heart-stopping moments passed. Finally, a low, cold smile broke out on his face.

"Don't push your luck. You're lucky I'm giving you these three days alone." He stood up, and she tensed instinctively. He strode past her, stopping at the threshold and glancing back at her.

"Three nights without me," he mused, "how will you busy yourself, dear Scheherazade?"

She didn't react to the name. Instead, she flashed a slow smile, eyes rising to meet his.

"I have a thousand stories to fill a thousand nights. While you are gone, my king, I shall bear the weight of the untold."