Son of Mah

v. the first night

The only sound was of the owl hooting, other than Shahrazad clearing his throat an uncountable times, but Shahryar wasn't interested in speaking. Shahrazad was ignored like a pebble on the ground.

And Shahrazad was never ignored ever in his life. He was reared as the Shah of his own home.

He knew that name belonged to him more than any other.

And this made his blood redder with anger, heating up in hurt.

Shahryar kept himself busy with a book, sitting on his bed with crossed legs. Yes, he had his own bed. Shahrazad was given another one- a little smaller than that of the Shah, a little less softer and less velvety, and made with less love. And to add salt to Shahrazad's splitting wound the two beds were separated by a sheer veil hanging in between. But the bed was big enough to sleep comfortably, so Shahrazad didn't have the chance to complain.

"Are you always this quiet?" he asked, initiating the conversation that would have otherwise never occurred.

Shahryar didn't reply. He flipped the page of his book. Shahrazad stood up and parted the veil, looking at the name of the book. It read- The Divinity of Dreams.

Shahrazad quirked a brow. "You are into dream interpretation?"

"I do not get dreams. I read this book for other reasons. And I would be glad if you seal your lips."

Ouch. "Sorry, if I go by your logic and belief, I am alive for only one night. And this is how you treat a man who is going to die after the dawn?"

Shahryar shut his book and cocked his head. Tapping his foot, he studied his consort-of-a-day with amusement swirling in his eyes. "So do you wish that I talk to you?"

"It will be great to know that I conversed the whole night with the Shah before death graced my existence."

"Weren't you of the thought that you would never leave your Baba?"

"We are assuming things. Since you think I am going to die, you should be kinder."

"Fine. Tell me, do you have any last wish?"

Shahrazad pursed his lips. Yes, I have.

Oh, if he would really have been dying the next day, he would have asked to lay on the other bed. But no, he knew he had still days to count.

"As long as I live in this palace, my sister Dunyazad should stay with me."

"What?" Shahryar hoisted himself up, rushing at Shahrazad's side like a raging tornado ready to uproot him from ground. "I know you don't care for your life. But not even your sister?"

Shahrazad shrugged, entwining his fingers. "I have given her my word. I cannot take it back."

"As if you are a man of promises?"

Shahrazad felt his breath hitch in his throat. All of a sudden, a rock seemed to have taken up the space of his beating heart, making him feel heavy and the ambience going murky. No doubt the walls of this room were a bit too darker and blacker than midnight and their desperate breaths fogged this cage of four walls, but everything became even more grim.

Shahrazad's lips formed a line sharp as the edge of a sword. His eyes loured at the Shah of Persia, fire of memories growling at the insult. He would bow to love but not so easily to his object of affections.

"You may put me down in every way you want, but remember two things Shah."

Shahryar's glare faltered.

"Do not speak ill of my family and do not question me on my promises. These two you should remember, Shah. I ask very little."

Neither batted an eyelash. Shahrazad was not going to lose against this Shah. Finally, the latter gnashed his teeth and went to the other side of the veil. "You act a bit too proud for a consort who is going to live for only a day."

"You are eager to see my body after dawn, aren't you?" Shahrazad asked tartly.

Shahryar grimaced. "No." He loosened his robes. "I have just given up on hopes. And you better do the same." His gaze, for the first time ever since they had met in the garden softened to a degree that Shahrazad found warm. "If you accept that death is inevitable, it eases the pain a little. It molds you into a stronger man."

"I accept that death is an inevitable part of life. But I don't accept that death comes tomorrow dawn."

"Your wish. I would let you be in the bubble."

Shahryar slowly came out of his coat. As he undressed, Shahrazad noticed a long scar engraved on his chest.

Shahrazad knew that one. He had seen it in his dreams. So hard he had struggled, flailing his arms and crying out, but despite everything he was unable to reach out to his Shahryar. Dreams were cruel- they showed him what was happening but never allowed him to turn the Wheel of Fate himself.

"May I know how the Shah got that scar?"

"In a duel with my brother."

Yes, true. "Must have hurt."

Shahryar scoffed. "Warriors face a lot. They must."

"It's so strange that wounds on the body which are visible get praised as honours of war, but when the heart gets scratched from jagged edges it's neglected."

Shahryar looked daggers at the smirking Shahrazad. "What do you mean?"

"I just told what I believed in."

"If your heart bleeds easily, make it lifeless. Freeze it. Cage it."

"Become a monster, right?"

Shahryar's eyes widened. His palms itched to hold the neck of his spouse and inflict on the young man gruesome pain for being so blunt, while another part knew it would be better to be still. He chose the latter, deciding to not speak any further. It was a mistake to talk to this man. He had never spoken to his spouses after Nafisa died.

That woman's name was a black spot to his respect. That lady began it all. She started the deaths. It was her bitter wrath and vengeful soul that had cursed him.

He shut his eyes. Forget, forget.

He went to his bed, laying his head on the pillow and pulling up the blanket. As usual, sleep wouldn't come to him. He would stay awake all night in horror of what was going to happen.

"Good night, Shah," Shahrazad wished him. "I hope I get to see you a million more times."

Shahryar clutched the blankets. The night was icy cold.

So cold that it makes even me shiver.

He had not seen anyone so confident as Shahrazad. Nah, not confident- Shahrazad was arrogant, had a big fat head and a honey-coated dagger for his tongue.

But the man still believed in light. Maybe that was his arrogance. He was a fire ready to burn himself and everyone else.

But how long would the fire crackle? Would it go poof at the crack of dawn?

Shahryar's eyelids drooped, unable to bear the weight of slumber. Dawn... he had to wake up at dawn.

He had to see Shahrazad's last rites were done properly.