The Riddle Of Us.

12; MASKS AND MIRRORS.

Both Amir Qasim and Asma's expression visibly shifted as the Sultan emerged, stepping into the room with a salaam that was answered by the both of them in low tones, each for reasons known to them alone. Their earlier banter dissipated into thin air, and was instead replaced by something calmer, something more tense as they both shifted in their sitting positions, adjusting themselves in a more formal way.

The Sultan took his seat as well, and silence ensued as he looked at the two, both of them looking down. Amir Qasim looked up though for a split second as her uttered his greeting, Asma's following after his though she did not look up.

"Barka da dare, Baba." Amir Qasim greeted.

Asma bowed her head slightly, "Barka da dare, ranka ya dade."

His gaze shifted from Amir Qasim, to his wife, and then his lips slanted upwards into a small, warm, and welcoming smile. "Lafiya qalau," He said in response to both their greeting. "Asmau," He then called out, his voice through authoritative, was soft.

Asma blinked, looking up for a split second as her gaze found his, before she looked down once again. "Na'am?" Her voice came out low, and Amir Qasim nearly wondered if she was the same person pulling tricks on him just a few moments ago. The girl she is feigning to be right now, is not the same woman he knows.

Then again, why is he surprised? What should he expect from a Princess from Kubi Caliphate? Of course she knows how to pretend and play the role of someone weak if it so desires. He can see right through that. Still, he kept his words to himself, and simply watched the show unfold.

The Sultan's voice then came again. "Why are you being so formal?" He inquired. "You are now a part of my family, you have been for the longest time. Ke fa ya ta ce. Addressing me like everyone else is too formal, but I will not stop you if you are more comfortable with that."

Asma's lips curled into a small smile, still not looking up and not saying a thing.

Sultan then sighed, and instead chose to direct his words towards why he asked them there in the first place. "I am sure the both of you already have an idea of why I asked to see you here," he started, his gaze shifting between the two as he intertwined his fingers, his expression turning serious. "This is something I should have said to you two long ago, but due to one reason or another, we could not meet altogether like this. Until now." He paused, the silence dragging before he then fixated his gaze on his son. "Amir Qasim." He called out.

Amir Qasim looked up, his expression solemn. "Na'am, Baba?" His tone is not as cold as when he speaks to Giwa, but it was not as soft as he used to address the old man during his younger years as well. It was evident in the way he carried himself as well, not to even speak of how he talks.

Sultan Muhammad saw the change in his son, though he was not quite sure of whether the change is good or bad, yet.

"Asma is your wife," Sultan Muhammad breathed out, "And she is not in this family just as your wife, but as a daughter to me as well. They gave you a wife, and they gave me a daughter. So, we both have a responsibility of hers that lays on our shoulders. I know you are a responsible person, but I will never stop reminding you. Your wife has rights over you;

Of financial support, of kind and respectful treatment, of emotional support and consideration, protection of honor and privacy, fair and just treatment, to intimacy, and to spiritual and moral support.