[ WATTYS '18 LONG-LISTED ]
❝ I have slit throats far more beautiful than yours.❞
In which a thousand brides have fallen, and she is the last, so she spins a tale as old as time to live the dawn.
| an arabian nights x beauty and the beast crossover...
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SHAHRAZAD IS UNAWARE OF the hours that have passed since.
Her method of estimating the timing is through brief glimpses of the light entering the tent when it is opened. It is past noon, perhaps the evening, or the skies are heading towards the night.
She whispers to herself, they're coming, they're coming, they're coming.
The stretch of time, from the previous night to the dusk unto the darkening night time has been a mixture of apprehension.
In contrast to her calculation, Afshar does not stay for long, besides the occasional precision of keeping her dehydrated and mildly fed.
When he arrives sometime into the complex union of evening and night with a small plate of cashews and pistachios, Shahrazad twists her face away at his attempt to force feed her.
"No."
He sighs, drawing back his hand in retreat. "Why are you so adamant, Shahr."
It is not a poised question but a statement.
"Why. Did. You. Kill. Baba?" She grits through her teeth. "What did you attain by slaying him?"
"Why don't you ask your King what he gained through the death of a thousand women?"
"You can quit pretending like that is your concern, or that of the rebels in the first place," she fires. "We both know that this is a personal war."
Somewhere within the crevices of her mind, she realises that she is defending a murderer. She is condoning a monster, justifying or perhaps overlooking the blood on his hands.
It drives her sick. It drives her insane.
Yet, as Afshar's demeanour falters, shifting to a dark moody, she steels herself for the impact of his words. "Because your baba was going to call off the rebellion."
Shahrazad blinks furiously, unexpectedly. "What?"
"Well, he thought you were going to be working in favour of the rebels, but as soon as he sensed a decline in the information you sent through Anwar, he figured that you had had a change of heart," he continues spitefully, "So, of course if his daughter presumed that killing the King was futile, and he even suspected you had fallen for him, he did not want to take that away from you."
Her lip trembles, wrought with a sinking feeling in her chest. Baba had thought of her, of her, of her. And for that, he is dead. "You - you murdered him for that?"
"I killed him for placing his daughter above the cause," he corrects sharply.
"You mean, above your ambition," she laughs darkly, "Anwar is just a pawn in your battle, you're planning on using him for the crown, and being his puppet master since you have no real claim to the throne." The Queen's eyes are fierce. "But Afshar, are you pulling the right strings?"
