Collaterals

Four Flags, Half Mast

That was not how Ali would have sat on the throne.

Khaled blinked. He did not know where the thought had come from. Somehow, it sharpened the Young Lord's gaze. Haitham sat with a back far too straight, his remaining hand gripping the armrest of the throne like a lifeline, what was left of his amputated limb nestled in its sling. Khaled fisted his hand by his side, glancing at Leila just ahead of him.

"My Dear Lords and Ladies," he began, his voice loud, projecting through the room. He took a moment, eyes unsettled as though to look through the hall, see how his words landed amongst the gathered. "I know you have tired. I know I have asked much of you. But make no mistake, your sacrifices are in the name of Aradia. They are in the name of stability."

He took another moment and Khaled let out a breath. Rehearsed, Khaled just knew. It was easy to imagine Haitham, sling and all, standing in front of the mirror and repeating the words over and over again. The only question was why Leila allowed him to continue this. Once more, his eyes moved to Leila.

"Khaled!" Mother all but hissed, tugging at his arm.

His mouth twisted to the side as he straightened.

"Let it be known that I come to you having also lost, having also sacrificed." He let the eyes wander to his amputated limb. The Prince's own words seemed to stir him into a trance, one that had him sitting taller on the all too large throne. "And let it be known that I come to you wearing the black of mourning. For today, four flags of Aradia were raised at half mast."

And although Khaled knew this, although Khaled had seen this with his own eyes, the words still sent a shudder through him, as they did prompt mother to lean just a little harder on him, and as they did send moans and wails and shouts through the crowd. Utterances of piety and shouts of prayers were raised, condolences and warding offs of evils sounding through the room.

Haitham raised his hand, and the silence came in waves, noise muted but living in whispered pockets within the crowd before it died off entirely.

"It is with a heavy tongue and a heavier heart that I now tell you that my beloved siblings, Her Royal Highness Zarqa Nageeb El Ezz, and our Beloved heir, His Royal Highness Ali Nageeb El Ezz, have both passed on to join my dear—," at this, his voice broke. And so he took a moment, gulping, his head bobbing as he cringed away some unwanted emotion. "My dear mother, Her majesty the Queen and my dear father, His Majesty the King."

Look at me, Khaled thought as he stared to at the back of her head. Look at me. Stand by me. Lean on me. Or just...Or just look at me and that would be enough. That would be enough.

But eyes could not speak. And even if they could, she would not turn to meet his, to speak the language of the mute.

Haitham let the sound die out on its own this time.

"Indeed, we belong to the Almighty and, Indeed, it is to the Almighty we return." He spoke calmly, slowly. So why did Khaled feel it rushed? Why could his eyes not settle on Haitham? Why did they keep looking to Leila when she insisted not to turn?

Now, The Young Prince raised his chin. "As a nation, we will pray. We will grieve. And we will rise from this tragedy stronger! For I make an oath to you, now, that the wicked minds that schemed this shall not go unpunished! Not for as long as I live! In truth," He paused, now. He shifted on the throne, the way one did when about to reveal a secret. "In truth, though my advisors tell me it is too early to tell..."

My advisors. Khaled creased his brows. Too much. This was too much. He glanced to Leila. Speak. Speak!

"Still, I know you deserve more than that. Have you not lost as I have?" He raised his voice, "Do you not grieve as I do?! Do you not thirst for vengeance?!"

A cheer sounded. One that had Khaled glancing behind his shoulder. It was now that he looked to his mother, sharing a worried look as she brought the fan to her face.

"It is as I thought," he nodded, giving a look to the Advisors still stood by his side. "There is evidence the Tainish throne had hand in this! That they sent those-those heathens!"

Once more, uproar sounded. So much so that Khaled took a step forward, one that placed him and Mother further from the crowd, further from danger and...and closer to her.

Haitham nodded along with the chaos, his jaw moving to the side as though he could taste the hatred, taste the thirst of a wronged people. He put his hand up again, and this time the silence was instant. Khaled pursed his lips inward as Haitham gestured to Leila, "Yes. Yes. And so it is wise that my dear sister, Hand to the Tainish Empire, has abdicated her claim to my father's throne, leaving me to fight for our family's, for our nation's, pride!"

Khaled took a breath. Abdicated? Abdicated? Surely she would not have...Surely she would not have done such a thing. Not without...not without telling him, not without seeking council from him, not without...His feet had already carried him forward, away from mother's grasping clutch. And then he was but a step ahead of Leila, "Abdicate, you say? Your Royal Highness, respectfully, in times like these such claims must be handled with care—!"

"Care! My good man you mistake me for the enemy! What interest do I have in a throne still wet with the blood of my father, of my kin!" Haitham shouted, rising from his throne as a sudden redness overtook his face.

Khaled straightened. Haitham was...He was a lot of things. But ambitious? Khaled looked to the side, Leila now in his periphery. "Forgive me. I...care only for what I know of tradition. Stability of the region."

Haitham looked him over, looked him over in such a manner that Khaled could not help but wonder when the boy had grown, when he'd grown claws. He nodded, slow to sit as he waved a hand, "And I respect that. But since this ordeal has rendered my sister...well..." Haitham did not further elaborate, throwing Leila such a pitiful look it made Khaled want to punch Haitham, and shake Leila by the shoulders.

Advisor Nabil was showing a parchment, now, bringing it high in the air so the crowd can see it before he turned it over and began to read, "I, Leila Nageeb El Ezz, herby abdicate my rightful place as heir. I do so with no external pressor, and in full possession of my facilities. Signed by Her Royal Highness."

"Yes, thank you, Advisor Nabil," Haitham nodded. He looked to Khaled, raising a brow, "Is that evidence enough for you, Lord Khaled?"

Khaled sucked on the inside of his cheek, throwing a glance to Leila,  who remained un-objecting. He took a step back, then another, eyes screwed on Leila. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me!

But he was by mother's side, again, and Leila continued to look ahead.

"And so I am the only one remaining to carry this weight. And I will do so willingly!" Haitham's eyes glistened as he looked out, now, as though wanting someone, anyone, to reject his claim to the throne. "Let they who see fault in that take to the Palace Entrance, where the three-day-trail shall be held, as it has for centuries."

"Respectfully, your Highness!" It was Advisor Umran. He had not made it to the dais with the Young Prince. Even still, Khaled had not even known the man to have been here, amongst the crowd.

"Advisor Umran?" Haitham chuckled, leaning back onto the throne. "Are you not too old to stake claim to the three-day-trail?"

Khaled did not find it funny. Still, there was always someone willing to laugh at the mockery of a monarch. And so Advisor Umran looked down, a moment, letting the joke die down before he raised his head again. "Indeed, I am an old man. But I am also a physician. I hate to state the obvious, but with your Royal Highness's dominant hand sadly amputated, I assume your Highness will chose a champion?"

Suddenly mother's hand was on Khaled back, and her not so gentle push had him take a staggering step forward. His nose flared as eyes settled onto him. And so, with grit teeth, Khaled unsheathed his sword, falling to a knee and presenting his sword with both hands, "I would...I would gladly fight for you, Prince Haitham."

But when Khaled looked up, it was not at him Haitham looked.

No it, was not at him at all.

It was at Leila.

"I already have a champion."