Collaterals

Say Hello

Trigger warning: blood, gore, and profanity.

They'd fought their way through, pulling their guests off the ground when they stumbled, pushing them closer to the walls, behind upturned tables and tall pillars. But their perpetrators were many, and they were beginning to grow restless.

"Oh Young Prince, won't you come say hello?!" 

Leila looked at Ali. They were panting, as quietly as they could, taking refuge behind the table they'd dined on mere moments ago. Moments...had it been only moments? The ground was sticky below her, and her tattered skirts, once shades of ruffled blue, had blotched crimson and red. They could not find Boody. They could not find Haitham. And...mother....

They'd found mother. 

On the ground. Neck slit. Her hair, beautiful and luscious even in death, had been sticking to the ground, muddled with blood. Khaled had to pull Ali away from her, duck his head down so he'd fallen to the ground behind the table and gagged, retching on the floor.

Leila cringed her eyes shut, putting her hand over her mouth as she begged the image to leave her, if only for now. If only for however many moments she had left.

"Then how about the Hand, no? She's a pretty little thing, isn't she?"

"Oh, yes. Nicked me, right here. Would love to return the favor."

"Oh, I'd do more than return the favor!"

And then they were laughing.

Leila looked forward, gritting her teeth against the burn of her jaw, ignoring the stares now directed at her. So...they wanted more than just Ali.

"It's a pity...won't you come out to play? We just want to say hello."

They were walking about the hall, now, winding behind the tables and taking a good look at the people crouched there. From what Leila could make out, the men were not undistracted: they kicked the men, touched the women. 

"Maybe we'll take a walk then? Through the halls? I think the blue eyed dove should be somewhere in this damned palace?"

"Oh, she's right here!"

Leila stiffened, moving to look, to poke her head above the table. Only the Captain wrapped a hand around her, pinning her down. 

A scream sounded. Leila imagined it: they pulled her by her hair, brought her close enough so she could smell their foul breath. Leila gripped the hilt of her sword tighter. "We should burn them." Her eyes were far off, unfocused. Captain leaned closer, looking to her as one looked to a new device, studying its unknown mechanisms. Leila looked to Ali, not quite registering the look on Khaled's face as she repeated, "We should burn them all."

Ali's chest rose and fell, eyes assessing her with a cool focus. She saw it in his eyes, too. Saw it even as she knew he'd never speak it: Ali was considering it. Imagining it, even. Perhaps that was why the word were free of judgement when he said, surely, "No."

Then he looked forward— ignoring Leila as she stared at him— teeth grit against the tremor that racked through the rise and fall of his chest. He cringed as the sound of a slap sounded, clutching his sword tighter.

"Oh, that ain't no princess. She's just blue-eyed."

"It is me! I am her! I am Zarqa Nageeb El Ezz!" 

Leila gave a breath of relief, Ali's head settling onto the table behind them. It was not Zarqa. The voice that sounded was not their sister's. Whoever it was, though, was clearly trying to buy the Young Princess some time. With any luck, however, Zarqa would already be in her room by now. Or, better yet, the temple.

"No! He said she was thin, long hair falling to the ground."

"I cut it!"

"Ha!" Feet fell upon the wet ground so that a small splash sounded with every step. How much blood had been spilled? Surely not enough to pool on the ground? "Would you like to die, then, Zarqa Nageeb El Ezz?"

"No! No! Please spare me! I— I don't understand why— why— who are you—?"

"Oh shut her up!"

And then the sound of torn flesh sounded, a thump hitting the ground. 

"Here's how it'll be, Prince." The creak of a chair adjusting under someone's weight. "You'll come out. You and that Warrior Bitch of Hand. Nice and slow. You do that, and I won't kill everyone here. Only you. And the Bitch."

Ali did not move. 

"Oh, not the selfless kind, are you? You'd've made a greedy king. Very well. You, there. Come here." The voice waited for a beat. Another. Then he sighed. "Bring him."

Whoever they brought struggled enough for commotion to sound through the hall. Ali used it to his advantage, leaning close to Khaled and speaking. Leila huddled closer.

"No. No, I wont leave you—" Khaled was already shaking his head.

"You will. They will open the doors. I know it. They will not kill me: They want something."

"Yes, yes, they do, they want you dead." Khaled spoke to both of them, voice hushed and rushed.

"No. Listen. When the doors open, there will be mayhem. You will run. You will find Zarqa, You will find Boody, secure them. And you will not leave them. Not till I find you."

"But—"

"You will secure Zarqa, you will secure Boody. That is my order to you, as your Prince."

Khaled stiffened. She'd never seen that, never seen Ali pull rank on another, let alone Khaled. But it worked: Khaled no longer protested. Instead, he nodded, glancing to Leila as he held his sword closer. The Princess gave her lover one short nod. And then Ali stood, voice strong and regal, "Enough."

The shouting stopped, the man they'd dragged to the center of the hall whimpering in relief as they dropped him to the ground. Leila began to rise, but the Captain grabbed her arm. He shook his head.  Leila simply pulled her hand free, standing by her brother's side, sword in hand. 

And what a sight they made. The Young Prince, his sister by his side, clothes tattered, blood splattered all over them. The men laughed, "Very well. Swords down, you two. Come here: nice and slow."

Only Ali did not move, "Open the doors. Show the people out. Then I am yours."

"I don't know that you are in any position to make requests, Prince."

"Only one side of this room commands fire. Would you like to see which?"

It took all of Leila not to turn, to look at him. All of Leila not to raise her brows in shock. Hadn't he just barred her from doing the same? 

"You'd use Divine flame for that which is not Divine?" The man shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Is that you're final answer, then?"

And the two men stared at one another. Leila didn't believe him. Ali would not use the flame. It was...sin. To use it for personal gain, to use it for something other than state affair. It was sin. Leila knew that, but Ali believed it. He'd grown up honoring the flame, sharpening mind and body to serve the flame, keep the flame safe inside his vessel. He would not use it.

But the men did not know that. They did not know Ali, not the way Leila had grown to know him: faithful, foolish Ali. He'd die before he sinned, he'd die before he dishonored the flame. 

Or...Leila had been here five months. In the years she'd been away, her siblings had grown into individuals, well beyond the confused eagerness of childhood, that exorbitant surety. What did she know of Ali, truly?

It did not matter. The man nodded to his comrades, "Open the doors." He began to shout, now, so that he was well heard, sardonic as he instructed, "Nice and easy your noblenesses. Nice and Easy. Move out."

Ali did not look to Khaled. Not as he crawled to the nearest crowd, stood among them. Not as he blended in, just another noble, leaving the hall, moving to safety. 

And then they were alone, Leila and Ali, stood behind the upturned table, Captain crouching behind it, the doors shut once more.