—
—
(Wadi Desert, Kroos 1581)
"AMYA, DO YOU KNOW WHERE MY MOTHER WENT?"
Azade sat perched on a stack of wool, playing with a wooden doll; watching another slave. She always had a fascination with Amya's work; spending her days refining wool in the master's shed.
"Stay here child, your Mother will return soon."
Nodding, Azade tugged on the straw hair of the wooden doll. She had found the toy this morning, simply lying in plain sight. She'd never had something so lovely, grasped in her muddied hands.
"Put that away, Azade. Don't let anyone see you with it." Amya warned, pointing at the doll. Azade knew she wasn't allowed to have nice things and the Master would simply rage if he saw her with it.
"Okay."
Hiding the doll under the stack of wool, she continued to watch as Amya picked up the wool and spun it into oblivion. Out of the her tiny woodwork, it would come out new and beautiful. A fresh and warm cloth.
Yet to create such beauty, it seemed that Amya's hands would have to suffer. Red calluses and blisters seemed to cover the middle-aged woman's hands; thirty years of labour taking its toll. Azade looked at her own hands, being only eight years old, they were still clean and soft. No calluses in sight.
She wondered how long it would last.
"Has master let you work in the barn yet?" Amya asked, breath slightly tampered from her effort to coil the handle of the woodwork.
"No, Mama said that in two summers he'd let me start helping her in the barn."
"Be glad child, most aren't as lucky as you."
Azade didn't have to argue with that. She knew other girls were often taken into more compromising labour, selling their souls for the master.
Her mother seemed adamant on not telling her why the master seemed to favour her over the other children in his ownership. The others had begun working last summer, most already bare-beaten with the sun's heat.
Everyone called her lucky, but never wanted to explain why.
But it didn't take her long to finally know what they meant.
It didn't take her long to notice that her and the master shared the same coil of curls, tanned cheeks and dark hair.
Not long at all.
"Is Azade here?"
She and Amya turned to find a slave boy peeking into their shed. "She is, why?" Amya answered boldly; her eyes not leaving her work.
"Master Adeen, h-he asked for her."
Adeen, he was the Master's young son that seemed adamant to punish all his slaves into servitude. Azade could hear Amya's lips curl into prayer. Over and over again a three sentence recitation cowering onto her lips.
The slave boy made his way over to Azade, picking her up and off the stack of wool. Clutching her hand in his; Amya gave the young girl a strange look. One she had never experienced before.
Pity.
"Why does the master want me?"
"Shh child, you'll find out." The slave boy whispered to her, his muddied hands covering his lips in a 'quiet motion'. They started their trek across the sands and walking by the many slave huts along the way. The other slaves seemed to stop their work and stare at Azade, again with pity.
It seemed as if her luck had run out.
"Why do they all look at me like that?" She asked the boy, tilting her head to his tall stature. He didn't respond.
Azade's feet were clothed in on a piece of wooden sandals, the hot sand beginning to burn her skin as she walked. But she said nothing, and simply followed the boy on their trek to Master Adeen.
'Pain is better off masked as compliance.' She could hear her mother's scolding voice now, strong and assured. Her mother's pain was never exposed on her face, a trait Azade tried so hard to mimic.
"Would you like me to carry you?" The slave boy asked her, staring down at her scorching feet.
"No."
They walked in between those slave huts for what seemed like hours to any small child. Azade knew the lengths and vast distances of the Master's desert land, but time walking over to the Master's palace seemed shorter when her mother was with her. Laughing and joking until their faces went stale at the sight of his palace. Azade and her Mother knew how to pass time.
Closing her eyes, she imagined if her mother were here with her now. Their laughter syncing a chorus in the eight-year olds mind, the scent of fresh jasmine coiling around her senses like the heat on her bronzed skin.
"Open your eyes child."
And they had arrived.
The Master's palace was a fine work of art, bigger than anything Azade's tiny world could ever imagine existing. Slaves worked day and night to perfect the stone lining of the building and the triangular peaks rimmed with gold arising out of it.
She could remember playing with the Master's two daughters in the courtyard behind the palace when she was no more than three summers old. The fresh plums and orange trees carrying their scent over to her now, letting her know that she was no longer amongst her own.
"Is this the child?"
A brawny man made their way over to them, his beard making him look twice as terrifying as he should've looked. "Yes, does the Master wish for me to accompany her into the stables?" The slave boy asked, his hand clutching into hers tighter now.
"No. Go back to herding your sheep, slave." The brawny man spit; saying the word 'slave' with such disgust, that Azade wanted to wash her ears out by just hearing it. She had never understood their dislike for the term. They put the slaves into their predicament, why should they be disgusted by it?
The brawny man made his way to Azade, tearing her hand out of the boy's grip and into his own.
Azade didn't like the feel of this man's hands; blood was sure to be on them.
"Where is my Mother?" She asked the man as he dragged her across the sand. He was walking her closer to the palace now, she could almost see the rims of gold.
"Hide that tongue slave, before I cut it out."
"Sorr-"
The brawny man turned to her, "You think just because your Papa is the Master you can say whatever you want? You'll find out what happens to a disobedient slave very soon." He laughed, his chest heaving along with it. His fingernails dug into the soft skin of her wrist, promising to draw blood.
Azade kept her words in the prison of her lips.
"Walk." The brawny man said, his large body casting a shadow over hers across the sand. They entered a brown wood shed, contrasting from the beautiful surroundings of the palace. It seemed to be in the backyard of beauty.
Letting her feet escape from the hot sand, she was glad to feel the cool surface of the wood beneath.
"Azade?"
Noticing the voice in the corner of the shed, the man still grasping her wrist as to control her reaction, she noticed something she couldn't understand.
Her mother.
Bloodied and bruised, her body looked like a sack of meat tied to a pole. Her mother's usually brightly tanned skin was now a blistering red, eyes casting down at her little daughter.
"Ah isn't it little Hadessa."
Master Adeen stepped out from the shadows, a whip in hand. Azade looked curiously at the object; only seen the use of it on disobedient horses and other cattle.
He rounded the corner and let his full body step into view, extravagant robes on display. A gold trimmed red cloth sat upon his short stature, arms opened wide as if welcoming the child as his guest. She wondered how much gold his robe was worth, how many mouths it profit would feed.
"Hadessa, you never told me you had such a beautiful daughter." Master Adeen said with a smile, looking at Azade's fearful eyes.
She wasn't sure why her mother was tied to a pole; beaten almost it seemed to death. Part of her wanted to run to her mother and free her from the chains that shackled her, but she couldn't. The brawny man was still holding on to her.
"Master, please she has done nothing. It's me you should punish." Hadessa pleaded, dark skin bleeding like Ichor against its hue.
"Of course. Who would harm such a small child?" He said, ironically. Moving across the room, Azade could hear the swish of his robes, nearing her and the brawny man. Adeen stopped infront of her, green eyes staring into her pair of brown. His hand started to cup her small cheek, forcing her head to face his. Azade had never been this close to the masters before. She always watched them with a strange magnificence from afar, but mostly her Father, not Adeen.
Adeen was the younger brother of the Master; always following the lead of his elder. Azade would watch him try to mimic his brother's movements, order them like his brother would.
But he never could.
He always was in the shadow of something greater, his eyes green not only by color but also by envy.
"You used to play with my daughter yes?"
Azade stood still, it was a summer ago that she had been forced to engage in the games of Semeena, Adeen's daughter. She remembered being forced to carry Semeena across the palace gardens, playing in her degrading games.
"Answer me, slave."
That word again.
Slave.
They spit it out every chance they got, like a unripened plum stuck between their teeth. Azade didn't answer, her eyes kept locked with her uncle, silent in the face of danger.
It was her mother who spoke instead.
"Master—she's only eight, just a child."
"A child who doesn't know she's a slave."
Master Adeen grabbed her face roughly now, she could feel both of the men's grips on her body now. She couldn't move an inch.
"Tell me, did you used to play with Semeena?"
Looking to her mother, she could see the desperation in her eyes. Her mother wanted—no—needed her to answer.
Azade looked at her mother, wishing she would've just come home when she said she would. Hadessa had told her daughter that she would be home by morning, after she completed her work.
All she wanted was her mother.
"Yes."
"Good, so tell me slave, did you steal her doll?"
The doll, the one she found that very morning. The same one that Amya had warned her to hide, that very one. She had it in her tiny hands this morning; not knowing it was Semeena's as she had found it sitting outside of their hut.
She would answer—yes. Azade had always been taught that the truth was golden. If she told Adeen where the doll was, he would let her mother go. Yes, he would.
And by looking at her mother, she didn't have much time before her muscles gave out from the chains.
"I—" Azade began, the Master looking deep into her eyes to prod her on.
"Wait! It was me."
Azade turned to see her Mother's fake guilt cloud the room. She wanted to scream but the brawny man covered her mouth with his large hand.
Adeen turned to Hadessa, eyes smiling with satisfaction. "Ah, so the whore admits her crime." The whip in his hand crackled against the floor, threateningly. She looked at her mother, face calm and body still hung on chains. Eyes stared into her legacy, her daughter, her life, her soul. Brown eyes screaming at each other across the room.
"I-I stole it, I just wanted my daughter to have something nice." Hadessa said all this, her eyes not leaving Azade's. Her child looked so small compared to the brute that held her arms, so defenseless.
But she knew that her daughter was strong; her namesake was a daughter of the stars, heroine of the night. Born under a starry night, Hadessa knew her daughter would be strong. Stronger than her, stronger than her namesake.
"Watch child, see this is what happens to a slave that disobeys."
And he whipped her.
The sickening crackle sounded in the young girl's ears, as she screamed in the brawny man's hand. It was muffled; but she could've sworn she tasted blood in her voice.
He didn't stop there.
1...
2...
10..
20..
34...
Azade kept screaming, every whip registered against her mother's skin and rosy blood would pour out. Blood was everywhere, the floor, the whip, her mother. Hadessa looked into her daughters eyes the whole time, not even flinching.
Every whip seemed to beat her mother down, tearing their gazes apart with every hit.
'Shouldn't he be stopping by now? Her body will be too damaged to work' Azade's matured mind thought, watching as he scarred a once beautiful body. He didn't stop, and Azade realized what he was doing.
He was beating her to death.
"Sir, not to question but a punishment for a stolen object is only 30 lashes." The brawny man said from behind her. Adeen shook his head and slung back his shoulder to deliver another lash upon the broken down woman. She was practically on the floor by now.
"I've been planning on getting rid of this bitch for awhile, don't worry Ussaid. " Adeen said, loudly so Azade could hear. The brawny man or 'Ussaid' simply gripped onto the girl tighter watching as she struggled against his grip.
"Mama!"
She tried to meet her mother's eyes, but they wouldn't meet hers anymore.
They were closed.
Hadessa was curled up on the floor, blood streaming out all parts of her bare body, in her own pool of blood. She looked serenely surrendered; eyes closed and body close. Expecting the next lash.
Azade struggled out of Ussaid's grip, but he wouldn't budge. "Let the girl go, this will be the last mercy I will show you." He whispered the last part to the dying Hadessa, throat so raw she could barely nod.
Finally she was let go, running to her mother's side she tried to find pieces of the face she knew.
But she could only find bruises and blood.
Clasping her mother's face in her tiny hands, she prayed every prayer she knew, Hadessa gave the shadow of the smile she could. At least her teachings didn't go to waste.
"Azade stop."
The little girl stopped—mid prayer, watching as her mother gently touched her daughters forehead with a gruesome hand.
"You said you'd never leave me." Azade whispered against her mother's touch, leaning into it to feel every grain of her mother's skin.
"I know, Azade-Joon." She spoke the endearment with a tongue that Azade had never heard before, only on her mother's. "But I have to go." Hadessa continued, speaking to her in childlike terms. She knew that she could probably let Azade understand things like an adult, her mind already too matured for her age. But she wanted to preserve the little piece of innocence her daughter had. The rest of it had already been shattered today.
"Where will you go?" Azade asked, not caring two other people were in the room with them. Once her mother was gone she knew life wouldn't be the same, she needed to spend as much time left with her as she could.
"The stars."
Hadessa answered it so surely, it was as if it wasn't simply a children's myth. "Can I come too?" Azade asked her mother; wanting so desperately to crawl up beside her mother and let her soul crawl out of her skin. Tears bellowed out of her eyes, hitting the blood smeared floor in tiny puddles.
"Don't cry, you'll time will come. Then you can come live with me amongst the stars; just like Scheherazade."
"Just like her?"
"Just like her."
Azade gripped onto her mother's palm; slowly feeling the life leaving Hadessa's body. She desperately wanted to bring it back, squeezing her mother's hand to bring it warmth. To bring it life.
"Azade, listen to me. You'll find that things after today are harder; not the same as they used to be. Promise me you won't forget the tales I taught you, the prayers as well."
"I promise."
Hadessa gripped her daughter closer to her, holding on to the last thing she loved in the world. "You can let them own your body, Azade. Put on a smile, do what they wish. But don't ever, ever, let them make you think that they own your mind too. That's all yours."
Azade nodded against her tears, her mother's voice slowly fading away. Hadessa could barely speak now, but she knew what she needed to say.
"Mama, I'll see you again. Won't I?"
Hadessa could see it now, light.
The stars.
"I'll see you amongst the stars, my dear Scherazade. The stars." She whispered. They were all too beautiful.
And then she was gone.
Azade let her body fall limp against her mother's, looking up into the stale eyes. She didn't know if it was even night yet, or even close to it but she could've swore she saw it.
A shooting star, in her mother's dead eyes.
.•.
"Azade!"
She rolled over, letting her eyes struggle to open. She could still feel the cold palace floor beneath her and the warmth of human hands grasping onto her temple.
"You're alive, Azade."
Her eyes blinked open, letting her witness Vardin grasping her temple in relief. "Thank god he didn't kill you, thank god."
Azade looked down at her unscarred body in disbelief.
He let her live.
And she didn't know why.
—
NOT EDITED FOR SHIIII
HAHAHA HERE IS A LONG CHAPTER FOR YOU GUYS BC I FEEL BAD FOR NOT UPDATING IN AWHILE OOPS
LITERALLY 3000 WORDS WTF
CANT KEEP THIS TOO LONG BUT PLS ADD THIS STORY TO YOUR READING LISTS AND COMMENT BC YOUR COMMENTS GIVE ME LIFE
ALSO WHAT IS YOUR THEORY ON WHY RUKUN LET AZADE LIVE?
AND HOW DO YOU LIKE AZADE'S MOTHER?
COMMENT!!
LY GUYS <3333333
(btw wadi-rum desert is also called the desert of the moon, haha doesn't that play into the story SO WELL!! srry lol kk byee)
-Elle