🔸a world for mundane and mindless thoughts🔸

✨ 6 ✨ Lover's duty

Wrote this for class. Thought you guys might enjoy it. Also lil bit of inspiration from my fabulous friend kaloned :)

✨✨✨

How long has she waited for this hour? A dark, cold and unforgiving night in the desert, nothing but the flickering of the fireplace and the candles in her room to keep her warm. Yet still, she was shivering. Scheherazade clenched her fingers tightly into balled fists, reminding herself of the trouble she had gone through in the last year for this to work.

She must kill him. She has no choice.
The wind picks up, as red curtains dance in her room, a creak of the door is loud enough to catch her attention, she snaps her head to the mahogany door watching it slowly open, fire is dancing in the side of her eyes.

She must kill him. She has no choice.

"Hello, love." He says, striding into her room. "Did you miss me?"

She wanted to say yes, that in the past 7 days and nights that he has been away, she had missed his cocky attitude, the crinkle of his brown eyes when he smiled at her, only at her.

"No," she decided to say instead, as she brushed her long curly hair out of her face.

"Come on," he approached his wife, towering over her he bent down slightly, whispering in her ear. "We both know that's a lie."
She shivered slightly at his hot breath tickling her ear.

She must kill him.

Scheherazade pushed him away, his white robes were slightly undone, bearing his built taupe chest out into the open. How will it look when his robes are bloodied in his own blood?

"Maybe it is, maybe it's not," she smiled as she walked over to the bed, wishing the covers could somehow restrain time, or even herself from the fate that was about to be. She combed through her hair again, and again, and again.

"Aren't you going to serve me any tea? Where'd the manners go tonight?"
Scheherazade paused, her brown eyes looking back at him, silently begging him to not drink it. Hoping that he would somehow understand the unheard message.

He didn't.

"Maybe they disappeared out the window." She tried to laugh. "Then again, when did you ever know me to have manners when it comes to you?"
Sharyar chuckled as he combed his hand through his black curly hair. "That is true," he said as he poured himself a cup of tea.

"First impressions are important, love. The first time we met you didn't have any manners whatsoever. You talked back, made your own rules, and kept stringing me along with those tales of yours. Quite amusing." He took a sip. She held her breath.

"That's only because you were insufferable."

"Not as if you weren't."
She chuckled. He was right, she was quite insufferable, even as a child. Her father would run after her, trying to make her stop playing with swords, bows and daggers. That is until it became something she needed.

"I treat others how they treat me, love," she said as he slowly came closer to her, "and you treated your bride quite terribly if I do say so myself."

There was a long, uncomfortable pause, where a snarky comment would've been. They both knew the situation yet avoided saying the words. "...why did you drink it?" She asked him.