Cinnamon and spice

A Thousand and One Nights(Retelling)

NOTE: It is completely a piece of my imagination and does not subside within the plot of the original piece. It is how I believe Scheherazade gets her deserved potion for going through her dispairing fate that she did not get otherwise.

As the night approached Scheherazade felt anxious, for the first time in years she didn't have a tale to tell, a way to escape something fatal; death. As she made her way towards the King's wing the guards glanced at her with a hint of skepticism.

The moment she entered his chambers she knew something was off. The air felt different, it was silent yet so chaotic. A familiar feeling took place in her heart- the same feeling she had when her mother died and the same when the King's army had come to take her away. Scheherazade's brain fogged up with millions of possibilities 'What if he kills me today?' 'what if I die?'

"Come here my love," Shayer's voice broke her thoughts.

Walking towards his bed she was astonished to see the sight, an audible gasp left her lips upon seeing the condition Shayer was in; his once tanned skin had turned the palest tone, cushioned pillows placed on either side of his bed surrounding him or more like trapping him like a cage. healers sitting on either side of his body making portions with herbs while a strained expression took over their faces, guards standing in their strong stance yet troubled eyes looking back at her with uncertainty. A choked cough made her immediately reach out for a glass of water, placing it near Shayer's lips as she looked at the medics.

"What happened to the King?" Scheherazade asked in a low whisper, making the healers share a look between them before one of them spoke, clearing their throat.

"We don't know milady but every portion we gave has failed to cure whatever that has taken over his health" One of them voiced out in a stressful tone while she crushed the herbs she had in her hand together before mixing them with a brown liquid.

Scheherazade furrowed her brows at that "You must know something" she said in a doubtful tone clearly the exchange didn't go unnoticed by her after all she was the vizier of the kingdom; the one who managed the kingdom without actually sitting on the throne.

"We believe it is poison," One of them said timidly. Scheherazade's eyes widened at that, "who could have poisoned the king?" She thought.

A rough hand reached out to her "Azade," Shayer whispered in a low tone "Won't you tell me a tale tonight?" Shayer asked, chuckling which soon turned into violent coughs. His body rumbled as he spit out blood. Just as the medics tried helping him he pushed away their hands denying any help.

Closing her eyes, in a shaky tone she whispered, " I do not have one; My stories have to an end."

"You do realize that as your tales come to an end and so does your life." Shayer said looking at her "Now how ironic is that with your tales ending my life is ending too. It was your life that was supposed to end yet here I am lying here while being caged in these cushions."

At this Scheherazade's eyes flew wide open for she had never imagined this. She knew he wasn't in a good condition but this didn't mean that the healers couldn't save him.

"With the poison trying to find its way to my heart, I lay here waiting for my death," Shayer said in a broken whisper, "You have always favored this kingdom Azade if asked would you help the king?"

Scheherazade let out a sigh. Who was she to deny the wish of a king? A mere slave girl who first worked to live, later weaved stories to escape death meanwhile acquiring a post in the kingdom through her intelligence. A girl whose life changed from being the most ordinary person to being the Vizier of the most powerful kingdom. Ultimately from the start of the night to the beginning of the day, she like all served him and fell under his rule.