Heaven Can't Wait ۞ Baldwin IV

XX - Landless

This song makes me think so much of Baldwin<3 (and together w Lluna) take a listen to it and the lyrics

València tu no ets tu ~ "Valencia, you are not you(rself)". Traditional Andalusi nūba from Balansiyyah.

فالنسيا أنت لست أنت

1173

Al Mualim carried more than just his traveling things. He carried an invisible weight.

He had been gone for days and was only now arriving right before Maghrib.

But when he saw his youngest daughter all that was washed away. She was the only one who happened to be there, closest to the entrance, where the bailey first stretched, then opened up in a circle, and stretched again until the front yard. Designed this way with a purpose, as a bottleneck.

Valentia adored the mossy canals there and keeping the guards entertained with her imaginative tales. Although Al Mualim considered it far too distanced from the protection of the main home.

However, this time she seemed rather apathetic, curled into herself in a sitting position on the ground, surrounded by fallen fruits of pomegranates, oranges, figs, dates, almonds...

As soon as she saw him through the gates, she uncurled to greet him.

"Babi!" Her upset voice distorted with a tremble at her rushed steps.

She was almost nine years of age, but still along with the distraught tone, she was also clearly riddled with excitement at his return, when all his other daughters had outgrown this.

"What is wrong, my Moonlight?" His deep voice seemed to come from the farthest waves of the sea.

He received her crouching just a little to her height.

"My tummy hurts, Babi. A lot."

His long hand fully covered said area with gentleness.

"Ah... Since when?"

"Last night. But worse now... while I was racing the nutshell boats."

His skin shone, toasted by the sun to the point that it was closer to the tone of the center of his eyes than to that of these nutshells she had just been playing with, and with a purplish undertone that concentrated on areas like his rounded lips. Lluna tapped the blotches of indigo pigment in it while she pouted.

"Wallah, wallah, ya Sidi..." He sighed to Allah lightheartedly and imitating her pout, shying her hair away from her face.

His daughters were not prone to ailments at all, and recovered quickly from anything that might have threatened to tumble them—and would tumble any other person. So his concern was for her discomfort but he was not overly worried, and he tried to downplay hers with his nonchalant tone to calm her.

However, when he turned her to inspect her—as he usually did after being far away and needing to make sure she was fine from head to toe—the father found what the possible affliction was as he noticed a small blood stain on her dress.