King of her heart [historical-straight]
Set in ancient west Asia
"Introducing His Royal Highness King Marwan Ehsan Baqar Shah of the Sindars and his sons; Prince Aydin, Prince Dilawar and Prince Hashim."
Upon the cue of her sisters Mahrenn sits up straighter. A difficult task to say the least with all the heavy jewellery and clothing they've forced her into. Being the eldest daughter, she was expected to partake in royal affairs until she far surpassed suitable marriage age and her helpless parents set their sights upon her more malleable sisters. This affair however is one she was unable to weasel her way out of thus having to adorn such heavy jewellery and attire only to sit silently and watch the boring formalities.
The thinly disguised ruse of the King and his 3 sons visiting for diplomatic affair is actually for the auction of her and her sisters. Thankfully, her age and the shortfall of her beauty in comparison to her sisters almost certainly eliminates her from the running. Yet if such a Prince were to pick her, 5 minutes of conversation with her and many have returned with tight lips and a vow to never speak to or of her again.
Mahreen has to admit that is one of her more perverse pleasures. Funny how a man with such arrogance can be disarmed by a woman besting him in a simple battle, be it of wits, wills or weapons.
She snaps back into reality only to listen to her father and the visiting King continue their pleasantry drawl. Attention wandering she casts a passing gaze at each of the Princes. Dilawar and Hashim are just as expected for typical princes. They have their heavily embellished robes, their skin light and posture perfectly upright with their handsome faces slack in an expression of boredom and assuredness. Their brother Aydin on the other hand.
Well, Mahreen has to slow her gaze over that one.
He has by all accounts the same properties expected in a prince except just something about the way he holds himself that needles at Mahreen. He catches her gaze and immediately looks away, his weight shifting from foot to foot. Mahreen's eyes narrow at the action.
Just what is going on?
After the long drawn out introductions and friendly chats, Mahreen and her sisters are dismissed for now with instructions to prepare for the evening preparations. The smaller group of men retire to a room to commence diplomatic discussions.
She watches irritant as they leave, her father giving her a warning look to hold her tongue. When she was a little girl she would often run around the palace and one of the places she would end up would be that same room, sat on her father's lap listening intently to the ministers and him talk of their political moves. Then as she grew she soon found herself pushed out of there. On occasion with familiar ministers, her father would allow her to be present and contribute however she realises the delicate situation with these foreign ones.
They would feel it an outrage to have her sitting in there. And although she understands it, doesn't mean she's happy with it.
Reluctantly she trails behind her sisters into their dressing room. Two of them flop onto the cushioned divan sofa, sighing as they do.
"They're so handsome," exasperates Ayesha.
As the youngest sister she is the most naive and sweetest of them all.
"Do you think they will want to marry us?" questions Fatima.
Mahreen can only roll her eyes at that, she hopes not.
Well, maybe for her sisters that would be okay. Fatima especially for the past year or two has been wanting to be married. Well aware of this their father has tried several times to fulfil that wish...only her sister.
She is so painfully shy with princes, even they grow sick of having one sided conversations.
"I want the middle one-Dilawar. If that is why they're here that is," claims Huda.
Always one to stake her claim first, Huda definitely is the sister Mahreen loves to annoy the most. Mainly because she does get heated very quickly.
"I heard it's for the oldest one, Aydin, to look for matches," conspires Ayesha.
A silence descends over them all as they conclude the same thing.
Oh no.
Just like her, her sisters too are not besotted with the oldest of the princes.
"Well, maybe he's very nice," unconvincingly states Fatima, "and he is going to rule the Kingdom after his father."
Even that prospect doesn't make any of the girls feel differently about the man.
After all, they too come from one of the finest kingdoms in the east. Before they can debate the topic any further their mothers bustle in, bringing along with them servants piled with clothes, jewels and accessories.
"Girls, go eat fast. Then we must prepare you."
Mahreen goes to protest only to be dragged away by the hand by Huda. She can always protest after food, she supposes.
She had planned to slip out and escape as she has done so many times before, only unfortunately one of her eagle eyed mothers had not allowed her a moment alone. Then she had tried to bargain with them. She would play the kamanche instead of dancing but they had then suggested she do both so that idea was quickly nixed. Now adorned with jewels, embellished skirts, kohl and mehndi she feels her heart beat fast at the thought of being centre stage.
At least she has her sisters with her.
She's only a proficient dancer because of the years of lessons yet compared to her sisters she's practically a new born foal.
Mahreen supposes it doesn't matter though.
They won't be watching her intricate footsteps and hand movements, as long as her hips are moving and she smiles.
Maybe if she gives a mediocre performance she'll slip under the radar.
Maybe.
Mahreen spins, the candlelights blurring as she does. She tries her best ignoring the smiling, laughing faces of those familiar to her and the new ones that aren't.
As the song winds down, Mahreen poses the same way as they've practiced a hundred times before.
Her breath is hard from the long routine, her smile forced but as she gains a teasing wink from her brother she sticks her tongue out at him in retaliation. Even though the gesture is quick and she is subtle in about it, it still receives a disapproving glare from her mother and that can only mean one thing.
She is in for a strong scolding after this.
She already knows what she will say. Something along the lines of 'appearances must be maintained', 'a princess should not behave in such a way' topped with of course, 'no one will marry her in such a state and to not have her married at such an age is a disgrace to their entire kingdom'.
Mahreen's listened to the same lecture a thousand different ways, a thousand times that she has all the variations memorised. She suppresses her groan, hoping to ensure her second attempt of sneaking away tonight will be successful. Just as they drop their pose for a short interlude, Mahreen is rooted.
Her gaze stops on the the man beside Prince Aydin.
He had been in his complete uniform before but now some of it has been shed. In particular the helmet is off, revealing a thick, shiny head of hair and a trimmed beard. White teeth gleam against his darker skin and black facial hair, his eyes glistening with amusement and pointed directly at her.
Clearly the source of his entertainment, Mahreen feels her breath catch. It's a sensation she chooses to ignore, pushing it to the back of her mind.
As soon as she is able to, Mahreen tosses the fine clothing onto her bed, slipping into a simple pair of men's garments. She wraps up her hair, the shawl over it disguising the last of her femininity. The kajal is rubbed off and while she can't do anything with the mehndi she scrubs at it as best she can. At the sound of footsteps Mahreen grabs her bundle and rushes to her balcony, swinging herself onto the other side, as clambers down to the one below her, from there she can jump to the side towards the tree her father had cut short to stop it growing beside her balcony.
She has a few exit routes but this is definitely one of her favourites.
The climb down from the tree isn't too difficult and from there she makes her way to her favourite guard station. Favourite because most of the time they're napping or playing dice most of the time.
As expected the men are dozing, making it an easy enough escape.
The ride to the town isn't too far, but it's dark and can be dangerous. She has her knife with her and she's more than proficient in using it so while she's not too worried, but being arrogant just attracts trouble. The normally bustling streets are quiet in the dead of night, lights glowing softly from the terraced, tall buildings, sounds of nocturnal animals coming alive. She makes her way to the building on one of the edges, it's completely dark but Mahreen knows better.
Just as predicted as she climbs up to the perch against the second floor ledge there is movement and restlessness within.
"Pssst," she hisses into the dark room.
Several excited whispers and gasps of her a version of her shortened name in varying tones reach her ears causing her to smile into the room.
"Meet me upstairs," she instructs to them.
Well versed in the art of sneaking out, the kids don't take long to meet her on the rooftop. She hugs the six little orphans spinning the tiniest, rambunctious one around before planting him back down.
"What did you bring us?" cries one of them tugging at her clothing.
"Okay okay, sit down first."
They form a circle, bouncing with excitement as she opens up the bundle and lays out the goods. Splitting it up she allows the children to then dive into the food. She knows the spiced rotis and rich butter are delicacies for them and since there is always more than enough in the palace, it's the very least she can do.
"Is it true the Sindar King has come here?" asks one of them.
Mahreen nods.
She can understand why they'd be so fascinated.
The Sindars are legendary in all the known lands. They're battle strategies, their diplomacy, discipline are all spoken highly of.
"Not just the King, the Princes too," she confirms.
"Ohhh," sighs one of the little girls, "are they big and handsome? Will you marry one Maha?"
At that question there's a roar of disgusted noises assault her from all directions to which Mahreen has to laugh at.
Although...she doesn't disagree.
"And leave you, Neha?!" Mahreen gasps in outrage.
"When I grow up, I'm going to marry a Prince," states the little girl with utmost conviction.
"I'm going to be a soldier."
"I'm going to be a Sindar soldier!"
They all shout their future and Mahreen hopes with all her heart they get to achieve them.
"Will Princess Fatima marry one of them?" asks Rami in a quieter voice.
The 10 year old is absolutely infatuated with her sister and she can't blame his crush. Fatima is probably the prettiest of all her sisters. That paired with her desire to be the perfect princess and one day queen definitely makes her an attractive mate to any man.
"Probably not," she answers him as honestly as she can.
"Good. Then when I grow up I will marry her. And fight a hundred men for her. No, three hundred, no a thousand!"
"Ewwww. If any girl tries to marry me, I will get on my boat and sail away!"
"You don't have a boat!"
"No one would even marry you!"
"Okay! Okay!" cries Mahreen with laughter dissolving the fight before it begins.
She teases and chats with them for a little while longer before sending them back to bed promising to return tomorrow. She packs the empty cloth bundle and makes her way back to the palace. The guards are still sleeping when she sneaks in. This time knowing most of the palace is asleep, Mahreen sneaks in through one of the side servant quarters.
She tiptoes up the stairs, pressing against the wall as she hears the footfalls of a guard. As he walks by and they fade she slips out, heading in his opposite direction. A few more turns and she'd be back to her room, only just as she creeps along the hallway, a voice whispers in her ear.
Gasping but swallowing the scream, Mahreen swivels her head to the direction of her fright. It's the soldier. Right hand man to Prince Aydin.
"I wouldn't go that way Princess." he whispers.
He's clad in a loose shirt and trousers, his feet bare. It explains how he managed to sneak up on her. Up close, he's so much more handsome. There's a faint scar, small but visible on his temple, hidden almost completely by his hair. His smile causes small lines to crinkle against his twinkling, powdered cumin coloured eyes.
It just causes her to become annoyed.
"I think I know my own palace," she snaps.
Instead of growing angry or hostile, his smile grows. "Okay," he agrees, "good night then."
With that the man simply turns about to walk away. Mahreen hesitates and unable to resist she latches to his forearm and causes him to spin back around. His eyebrows rise as he glances down at where she clutches him.
Immediately Mahreen drops her hands.
So what if his arm is strong and warm? How girlish would she be to be affected by that?
"But for the sake of...proving your intelligence. Tell me why you think I should not go that way?" "Your father has placed my King and his people in that wing so there will be extra guards on duty tonight."
Oh.
She hadn't known that.
"And...you're not one of those guards on duty?"
He shakes his head, some of those silky strands shaking along with the motion, "not tonight." "So what are you doing sneaking around at this time of night?"
"I could ask you that same question Princess? Meeting a lover perhaps?"
That familiar temper and defiance her parents are forever complaining about flares in Mahreen. So she promised her father to be nice to the Sindars but she's not going to just let them insult her like so, especially not a Commander or whatever he is.
"Yes, tens and twenties of them. I am famous throughout this city, see. I meet a different one every night," she quips sarcastically, "does that satisfy you? Go ahead, go tell your King and Princes I am an impure harlot."
The solider leans in closer, the scent of his bath oils and soap washing over her, infused with the jasmine air.
She can hardly breathe, the hairs of her skin tingling as she becomes so acutely aware that she is in fact female.
"The better question is Princess...do they satisfy you?"
With that he leans back, making Mahreen blink in astonishment at him.
She finds herself wanting to quip back, keep the conversation going with him. She hasn't had this fun of an interaction with an adult since...well since her best friend married and moved away.
Only before she can reply, there the guards passing by again in the adjacent hallway, reminding Mahreen of her mission to get back to her room.
Slipping past him, Mahreen only glances back as she's about to turn around the corner. He's still stood there watching her, his head bowing in good night as she looses sight of him.
Back in her room, Mahreen hides her city clothing. The fancy attire from tonight has already been packed away, presumably the work of her servants, instructed by her mother. Climbing into bed, Mahreen can't stop the illicit wandering of her thoughts. They circle back to the unknown Sindar solider. She hadn't taken too great of a look at him but she did note how those simple loose clothing far better suited him than her. It had hinted at a strong, warrior body underneath there, especially if his forearms are any indication. She's met some of the most handsome men before, some Princes with powerhouse bodies, yet...it's this one that she's attracted to.
Perhaps it's not just his looks then, it's his sense of humour.
Clearly this one doesn't mind a Princess who is not shy and retiring. Or maybe he's playing it that way.
She's no naive little girl, she's known and heard of many a men who have acted one way in order to secure a marriage only for the woman to realise after he is not that person. This one though, Mahreen doesn't sense he's like that. He could have picked an easier target should he want that. And if it's the challenge he's after...
No, no she doesn't think so.
The Sindars will be here for two more days. Two more days for her to see if these reactions she has about him is real or simply a fantasy she's building. But there is definitely something about him. And something off as well.
What sort of solider is so confident as to quip with a Princess? To stare boldly at her? To be wandering around the palace in the evening?
He is no regular solider. Mahreen rolls over pondering just how and why he is as he is. With that she falls asleep.
"Is that the Princes?" Neha points to the convoy making their way through the busy, afternoon streets.
Mahreen knows where she's pointing. It's hard to miss them all riding in the shade, surrounded by their soldiers, the King in front of them. They ride up high on their horses, and just by their posture Mahreen can tell they're not interested. The citizens praise them with flowers and cheers and while they go through the motions of waving and smiling. It would annoy her but she's seen too many of these distanced royals to be fully affected.
"Yes. That's them. Prince Aydin, Dilawar and Hashim."
Her eyes scan through the party for her soldier. Although she should probably stop referring to him as that because he's not hers.
It's not too hard to spot, he's one of the ones closer to the street, smiling at the kids, even reaching down to one of them to ruffle their hair and another to pat one of the back.
"Do you think I can hit one of them with this?" asks one of the boys. Imran, one of the more naughty ones, pops out the date seed and lines it up towards the street.
She knows she shouldn't but she's can't help the snort of laughter.
If they actually did hit one of the princes it would be a great insult, however the chance of it happening is slim. They are way too far away and a 9 year old is not going to be able to throw that distance and aim so well.
"Sure, go ahead and try it," she laughs.
With that all the children pelt out the date seeds, many simply landing on the streets, others landing on unsuspecting, poor citizens. They duck under the rooftop ledge at those times when the people who feel it gaze up.
"You try Maha! Try! Try!"
At the cries of the children, Mahreen concedes. As if she could resist them anyway.
Quickly chewing off the sticky flesh of the fruit, she spits out the dry seed. Aiming the seed, not towards the Princes but towards the soldier, she throws it. It falls slightly short, landing just behind the man.
At the wail of her friends she tries again.
This time it bounces off the man's helmet. He doesn't notice it but a cheer goes up behind her. With encouragement she goes for another one. This one also meeting its target. For two in a row she receives hugs from the kids and maybe that's why they aren't quick enough to duck as the soldier turns.
He looks up straight at them and while the kids hide for cover she is left frozen in his hold.
She sees him shake his head, his shoulders also vibrating hopefully with laughter.
Before they can continue their distant exchange, his attention is drawn back to the parade and just like that he is gone.
"Maha! You got caught! What will happen?" asks one of the kids.
She turns, her connection to him also cut for now. Seeing the worried looks upon all their faces Mahreen feels her heart swell.
"Will you be punished?"
And just at that she has a flash of light brown eyes fanned with thick dark lashes staring at her in lust. She shakes away that image however it has taken root at the back of her mind already.
"Will they throw you in the dungeons?"
"Of course not, stupid! She's a Princess-"
"But they are the guests and-"
Mahreen takes a hold of herself before the verbal disagreement turns into anything more. "Children! Children! Stop. Nothing is going to happen to me," she hopes, "so don't worry. But let's not play this game anymore. It's not very nice."
With the permission of their guardians she takes them down to an empty plot of land they play games on. There she spends as long as she can with them, dreading the prospect of returning home to whatever punishment may be in store for her. However as her little protectors are called away for wash time and dinner, Mahreen concludes she must return home now.
She shimmies back into her room and to her regular palace clothes just as a few maids and her mother appears.
"There you are. Where have you been all day?" asks the woman, undoing the braid she had her hair in.
"Here. In the palace. Reading," she responds knowing full well this mother has an aversion to books.
She makes a noise of begrudging acceptance, "fine. Come quick. You are the last to bathe. The evening meal will be ready soon."
With that she is whisked away to the bathing chambers and the fears of her mischief being discovered quenched.
Just her luck she is seated opposite Prince Aydin. The guilty looking Prince gazes anywhere but at her. Well, Mahreen's not sure if he's acting guilty or he's just painfully nervous. She may be a bold character but she is not catty and would never devour a helpless prey.
Content in also ignoring him, she resumes her meal only to catch the eye of her mother who is clearly signalling to remedy her lack of interaction with the Prince.
"So Your Highness," she starts only for the man to be startled and blink in shock at her words. As he digests her greeting he gives her a shaky smile and nod.
"What do you think of our kingdom?"
"Oh it's nice. Very nice, Princess. You are all very kind to your guests."
Mahreen murmurs a thank you in response before a wave of awkward silence washes over them. Sensing this finally, the Prince makes his own first move.
"And you are very beautiful. Your dancing yesterday was incredible!"
She grimaces at him at that, knowing that at least that last part is a blatant lie. Giving him another humble thanks, her mind wanders from this boring conversation to the vastly superior one she had with the only other member of their party.
Her eyes drift across diagonally to where he sits with some of the other men. Sensing her gaze on him, his head snaps up scanning across until his eyes catch hers.
Mahreen checks herself quickly.
It would not do well for anyone to catch her, a Princess, exchanging such glances with a solider. She may see nothing wrong with it but guaranteed it will cause an uproar. Determined to banish such thoughts of him out of her system, Mahreen concentrates on the perfectly fine Prince opposite her.
The man is clearly good looking and clearly courteous towards her. Perhaps he is bland because she has not given him the oppertunity to be anything but.
"The Abyesh Kingdom, it is rumoured the great Sindar army suffered a defeat at the hands of farmers," she provokes.
Those were the initial rumours circulating around however this was disproved by the farmers themselves. Mahreen's friend who married a man from Abyesh, told her the farmers, women and children were the only ones left after the war. Instead of forcing the remaining citizens into oppression, one of the Sindar Prince's bargained to allow the farmers ownership again of their lands in return for servitude. This had bought them great loyalty and many disavowed the previous rulers hailing the Sindars instead. Now her friend was unclear as to the exact Prince that provoked this but whichever one it is, Mahreen respects them greatly. It clearly is not this one as he twists his face into one of disgust and anger.
"They did not defeat us. We crushed them and bestowed mercy upon them," he grits out making Mahreen's guards raise.
At least she was right that the man does have emotion and a backbone.
"I see," she calmly smiles, "rumours are often untrue."
"Yes. Many of ones like this spread by cowards who would not dare face a single Sindar man in knowledge he will stand no chance at victory."
How did she miss such arrogance? It truly is astounding. It does make things more interesting though. Mahreen wonders how far she can truly aggravate him.
"Of course. The Sindars have never lost a battle have they?"
"Never."
That was a teasing jest and yet his answer evokes a doubt in Mahreen.
"Never? Not even with the Vasians?"
Every army starts somewhere and back when she was a young girl the Sindars were only just growing, their army still abundant with weakness. The Vasians were far too powerful for them at the time and they had suffered a crushing defeat in battle. Their defences however had held up so when the Vasians retaliated they were able to withstand it. Later an alliance was formed as the King's sister was married to the Vasian King.
"Never, Princess. The Vasian King is my uncle. They would never even think about attacking us and should they we would deliver a crushing defeat to them."
Mahreen quietly agrees as her mind races. Granted the Prince would have been young at the time but every royal learns in great detail history, especially that of ones own kingdom. So what happened with this one? Was he perhaps mentally simple that his family is trying to hide him? It would explain the lack of his appearance in many journeys of the King and his brothers. And now they are trying to secure a wife for him? Mahreen's not sure. Even that theory doesn't sit quite right with her, yet she cannot fathom another one at this juncture.
Either way it would not matter.
She will have nothing to do with Prince Aydin.
Yet an unsolved mystery keeps beckoning her.
That night Mahreen does not sneak out instead she heads to the library confirming her knowledge of the Sindars and the Visians and Abyeshs.
Tossing and turning in her bed she is full of questions. Questions that will not be answered unless she asks them.
The heavy skirt is not one she is used to having to be agile in. Usually when she has to move stealthily she has her loose men's clothing on. This time however it is not out of the palace she is slithering away from.
This time it is to Prince Aydin's chambers.
By some well placed comments and a little eavesdropping she's figured the exact room the Prince is residing in and tonight she will confront him and whatever nefarious scheme the Sindars are playing.
For that she must of course remain in her palace clothing. However Mahreen has discarded much of the jewellery. Smiling at a passing guard she waits until he rounds the corner before making her hasty hustle down the hallway of the Sindars and sliding into the Prince's room.
She gasps unconsciously as she's faced with a broad sculpted back. The bronze skin, criss-crossed with old war wounds glisten under the low candlelight of the room. It's an impressive, beautiful back she knows of only clothed, however it is not that of Prince Aydin.
The Prince is not this broad.
"Princess," calls the man as he turns to note with shock her presence.
He stands there in front of the bed even as she glides towards him hesitantly. Mahreen can tell his surprise is slowly sinking in and as it does his mind is racing.
"You should not be here. It is not proper," he tells her.
His stance there stimulates a theory she had dismissed last night. All she needs is to watch his reaction to confirm it now. Even if he is Aydin's right hand man, neither should he be here without the Prince.
"I could not stay away. My conversation with the Prince last night has been plaguing my mind. I simply must confess my feelings for him."
Immediately his handsome face tightens ever so slightly, his posture more rigid and chest widening.
"Is that so?" he all but snarls, "that must have be some conversation."
"Oh it was very enlightening," she smiles coyly.
Stood a mere foot away from him, Mahreen's body is reminded of his natural ability to make her feel so delicate and petite despite her being anything but that.
"I'm afraid Princess the sentiment was not returned. He made no mention of such a conversation."
"And he tells you everything does he?"
"Yes."
Mahreen shrugs, pretending to be unaffected.
"Well, we'll just see. Where is the Prince by the way?"
She witnesses the conflict across his features. One part probably wanting to return to this topic of her so called feelings for the Prince and the other to devising an excuse of the Prince's whereabouts.
"He will be back shortly. He decided to stretch his legs around the saffron garden."
"Hmm, yes it is particularly beautiful in the evening," she murmurs lulling him into a sense of acceptance of his response, "and you decided to...make yourself comfortable in his absence?"
The flustered man quickly shakes his head, "I...he decreed it would be acceptable."
"Of course. The Prince and you are very...familiar with each other."
Her implicit smirk erases the flustered expression immediately.
"We are not..We do not..."
"It is not a crime here. You have no need to hide your truth. I shall keep your secret."
"I do not doubt that Princess but the Prince and I are not like that. We do not - he does not-"
Mahreen looks to the side and shrugs again.
"As you say Your Highness."
"Thank you-"
She catches his gaze with wide eyes and a knowing smile.
He has been caught. Her suspicions are solidified.
"I am-"
"Prince Aydin of the Sindars, eldest son and first in line to rule."
They share a moment of silence, Mahreen wondering if he will continue his facade. This Prince is smart enough however to know when he is captured. Yet defeated his is not. Her breath catches as the man stalks towards her, transfixing her with his gaze. His hand reaches up for her chin, tilting her head up to keep her eyes trained on his. In the better light she can see the handsome, hard planes of his face, those lighter eyes contrasting all his darkness. Mahreen is aware of the slipping of the shawl around her head to her shoulders. She had taken all the pins fixing it in place out, never imagining it would be necessary for a simple conversation with the Prince.
"You have bested me Princess. Tell me what are the demands of the victor?"
"Answers," she whispers, "why the act?"
"Many times, many kingdoms will showcase only their riches, the highlights of their lands. Being a Prince I would not be able to see the real citizens of the land and hear their opinions truthfully. As a simple solider, they would be more compelled to be honest."
"You wish to claim our lands," she accuses.
So that is their grand plan? They are here to scout the kingdom. Will her Kingdom be the next victims of the Sindar army?
"My King wishes me to claim a Princess."
Mahreen feels her stomach drop, her heart compressing. Whether that is in fear that he will claim one of her sister's or whether he will claim her is a conundrum she dares not solve.
"I see," she chokes out, "my sister...Huda will be a good Queen for you."
Huda's fiery temperament and need for perfection will work well for the Prince. They will get along well and Huda will not be displeased with the Prince. She would happily give him a flock of babes. Even knowing it's for the best, Mahreen feels nauseous at such thoughts. The Prince and Huda consummating in bed has her wanting to vomit and scream at the same time.
Not her business though, she concludes resolutely turning to leave the Prince be when he catches her by the waist.
His fingers pressing against her bare skin, the touch sensitising her entire body.
"I do not want to marry your sisters, Princess."
She remains facing away from him. He would be a fool to refuse them. They are beautiful and incredible, he would not do better. She voices this to him only for him to repeat his previous sentiment.
"You will refuse your father's wishes?"
Her question is met with silence. Instead with her gaze angled to the floor, she sees him curve behind her. She feels his bare chest brushing her back, her thin veil protecting her from his blazing touch. The poor inanimate object is tossed aside by him. The material sinking to the ground in defeat. Her unbraided her is then brushed aside as he presses closer to her, his lips trailing below the large earrings on the sleek column of her neck. She knows her pulse must be rapid, her own mind cannot keep up with such influx of reactions.
"I may. If I cannot persuade a certain Princess to be my Queen."
He lies a kiss as soft as the petals of hibiscus flowers on her neck. Her body sinks as her mind finally gains some clarity.
"That Princess does not share her Prince," she commands.
While she is happy to share her riches, one thing she will not share is her husband's devotion. Her own father has multiple wives and while they do live in harmony for the most part, she refuses to share her husband. She feels him chuckle gently at her neck.
"From what I have seen of the Princess, she will require my full attention."
Mahreen twists in his arms, needing him to know she is completely serious about this. She will give him her everything but she needs that back in return.
"Aydin," she drawls.
He cups her cheek in one hand, the other remains around her waist, anchoring him to her.
"Mahreen, I vow my fidelity to you. Can you vow your faithfulness to me?"
She believes his sincerity.
"I vow it. Trust me and I will have complete faith in you. But I will never be able to follow blindly Aydin, I cannot promise you I will be obedient."
"I never want that promise. A quiet Queen is apathetic or scared. I never want either from my Queen."
They share a moment of solidarity, right before he bends for a kiss. Despite her talk, Mahreen has only ever had relations with one man before and never did they copulate. She freezes, knowing his lips are descending onto his yet unable to move at all. It's only when they meet hers that she can relax. He is gentle, taking the time to coax her to join him. As his tongue slips into her mouth it's so effortlessly she barely realises it until it happens and when it does her arms glide up locking behind his neck.
The tender cautiousness soon escalates and before she knows it, one of her hands is away exploring the rock like ridges and planes of his chest. Mahreen's fingers skim over the muscles of his lower abdominals, dipping down just over the material of his wide trousers.
And just as she does, as if he's been speared, he darts back.
"Let me escort you to your room Princess. We can announce our decision to the world tomorrow if that is still your desire in the morning."
She's briefly insulted until she realises his breathing too is laboured and that desire in his eyes cannot be contained. Slowly Mahreen steps towards him and when he takes a smaller one back she arches her eyebrow in challenge.
Such a noble Prince.
He must believe himself to be so selfless at this crossroads yet he is selfish in unaccommodating both their mutual desires.
"A King would not leave his Queen wanting," she declares.
He smiles and kisses her forehead.
"When you are my Queen, you will never be left wanting darling."
She huffs out a breath, realising she may have to change her tactic on this.
"Then I suppose until then my lovers will have to complete the task you cannot," she nonchalantly states, turning to go pick up her dropped veil.
She had expected words, teasing or otherwise. Not to be tossed back onto the bed.
She yelps at the unexpected motion the controlled man she has so far seen barely holding on in the tiger that hunts her.
"No lovers," he growls looming over her. His forearms rest beside her head, his other hand capturing her chin while he angles his hips and upper body up and away from her.
"No lovers," she agrees as a whisper.
That quells the beast slightly but the rawness is exposed now, it cannot be healed so easily.
"Am I scaring you?"
That is an easy answer. Does he scare her? No, definitely not. Does her reaction to him scare her? Yes, absolutely. Never in her life has she had such a powerful reaction to a man, Prince or otherwise.
"You do not scare me."
The stubborn tilt of her chin, the conviction in her voice cause him to smile.
For years he has waited for this and now his prayers have been answered. She is the one he has been searching for and awaiting patiently. He moves closer, instead of going for her lips, he skims past them trailing kisses from her chin down her neck. Unlike before he does not stop at the bottom of her neck. His lips keep travelling, diagonally down to the edge of top's neckline. It's modest as a Princess's clothing should be but even so it feels scandalous.
"Scared now, Princess?" he teases glancing up at her.
She rises to his challenge, her back arching as she retorts, "not even close Your Highness."
He laughs at that, the hand at her chin tracing down to cup one of the mounds she presents so delightfully for him. It's not on there for long, travelling down to her hips. Her curiosity and frustration grows as he lifts himself off her.
"Again Aydin? Will I have to-"
And just like last time he performs an unexpected action to her. Another flip. This time to her front and much gentler. She laughs.
"You will have to curb your tongue vixen," he quips back.
She smiles, feeling his nimble fingers work the clasps of her blouse. Lifting to her knees, Mahreen shifts her thick, long hair giving him easier access.
"You enjoy my wicked tongue."
That he cannot deny. As the garment loosens, giving way to his needs he coaxes her to face him. She holds the blouse close to her chest, preventing it from slipping. Her skin duskier than her sisters' radiates with healthiness from the time spent in the nourishing sunlight. Big, wide eyes usually full of stubbornness, amusement and life bore at him with excitement and a large tinge of apprehension. Her normally beaming smile has fallen with full lips slightly parted as she is trapped in unknown territory.
"Mahreen," he calls hand shifting into all that thick, black hair.
When her attention snaps to him, to the present he requests her to kiss him. It's a simple enough one that she instantly complies to. It provides her with enough distraction and heat to allow her arms to slowly unfold, the garment she holds close escaping.
"Aydin," she breathes as his hand cups one bare breast, "I do not know...I have never..." "Princess we do not have to play this game. You can be honest with me. I do not care of those before me as there will be none after me."
Such arrogance. With that Mahreen feels her attitude return. She pushes his chest. It is a light touch however he had not been expecting it and as a result tumbles backwards, his hold on her giving her no choice but to follow in suit. Her elbows are bent, pressed against his chest, her breasts too. Body still humming with attraction and the added sensation of his warm, solid frame, her nipples pebble.
"You are ridiculous and arrogant and-"
Before she can continue her rant of all the negative things he is, he cuts her off with a passionate kiss. "I withdraw my previous words. Forgive me for making light of truth."
That placates her marginally.
"Forgiven," she mutters, "but Aydin it means I am not skilled in...this."
It is clearly a great insecurity for her and Aydin does not know how she cannot see just her mere presence is pleasure to him.
"Princess," he murmurs, "trust me. Even the simplest touch from you gives me great satisfaction."
She hesitantly nods another question begging to be released at the tip of her tongue. It's one she hovers on, wondering if she really does want to know the answer to it. She cannot live in ignorance. It's not in her nature.
With a sigh she asks, "and you? You have bedded many women?"
She already knows the answer to it of course. He is a Prince. And that of a very prominent family. The few scattered wounds on his torso clearly indicate he is also no stranger to battle and well, blood is soaring after battle, most men seek release in the arms of a woman.
"I am not pure, Princess. I have lain with a fair number of women but I am no regular at harems."
So at least he's honest, Mahreen nods and nips at his neck where the hairs are more sparse or absent. He tips his head back allowing her all the access she wants as his hands skim over her silken back.
"We can take our time darling. Having you in my arms will make my dreams sweet tonight." Mahreen sighs, stroking the rough beard along his cheeks.
"Show me a whole new world."
*******************
This part is continued on my profile on Inkitt (under the same name and linked in the external link). For more details look at the 'Foreword' at the start.
*******************
With a deep groan, Aydin collapses on her, his head buried against her neck and shoulder as his body rises and falls with his sharp pants of breath. His hands still grip her thighs but they are looser now. Mahreen fingers curl at the feel of his heavy and slightly damp body on hers, his member still within her but shrinking with each moment. She tentatively hugs him tight hoping he will remain with her for a few more minutes until reality catches them. His hands come to life first, stroking her gently along their ascent to her waist. He then props himself up on his elbows, removing the majority of his weight.
"Stay. Give me a minute," he states gently withdrawing his lower body from her.
Mahreen winces at the ache that he leaves behind. She feels sticky and can only imagine the mingling of blood, sweat and other fluids between her legs. She hadn't considered this part of sex. Just as she's wondering how she'll clean herself and not be forced to travel in such a disgusting state back to her quarters, Aydin approaches her with a damp cloth.
She should have had more faith that he would take care of her. When he returns from discarding the dirty water and cloth, he scoops her in his arms, placing her at the other end of the bed and stripping the first layer of bedding they were on. The maids will definitely notice the blood on the sheets but hopefully will not question the Prince.
"Nobody will speak of it," he promises her gathering her in his arms. It's as if he was reading her mind.
"I should still go back to my bedroom," she says.
If anyone finds her in here there will be a flurry of fury directed toward her because he is of course, only a man.
He lays a kiss to the top of her head, "I will take you back."
They sneak through the palace in those early hours of morn. When she's settled in her own bed, Aydin places a kiss to her lips memorising the taste of her.
"Mahreen when I tell your King the truth he may not be as forgiving as his daughter," confesses Aydin.
If he is to marry her, he will of course have to reveal his identity and that may be taken as a great insult. Mahreen squeezes his hand.
"You are my King now Aydin. I stand with you."
The tension in his chest eases as he shakily smiles. He has truly found a gem. This is who he has spent his years searching for.
"And I with you, Princess."
It had been simple enough for Aydin to tell his father and family. Though confused they were clearly relieved that he has finally chosen his Princess and an advantageous one at that. That had never been the challenging part. It is informing his hopeful in-laws of his plans that would be complicated. He is not one to shy from his truth though and asks his father to request an intimate gathering of the two families. They concur in a smaller entertainment room, his future bride shooting him an anxious glance as he and some of the other close guards enter.
"Marwan we are all gathered here, state your business now," requests Mahreen's father.
Mahreen's fingernails dig into her palms with nervousness.
"We both know the reason for visit of the Sindars. There is no greater tie between families than marriage. My eldest son, Aydin, heir to the Sindar throne, has...become enamoured with one of your daughters."
Mahreen holds her breath as silence sweeps the room. She peeks a glance across to her family. Her brothers are barely suppressing their laughter as her father and mothers beam. Her father gives a short boom of laughter and joy and clasps his hands together.
"That is indeed excellent news! We welcome Prince Aydin and the Sindars with open arms. The wedding preparations can begin immediately. Tell us young man, which daughter of mine do you desire?" His gaze goes to the false Prince, the one Mahreen is pretty sure is his right hand and friend.
Her eyes immediately find the real Aydin as he takes his helmet off.
She senses the gaze of some of her brother's noting this strange action and Mahreen braces herself for this chaos about to ensue.
"Actually your Highness, I am Prince Aydin."
Mahreen is one of the many that gasps.
As the pretend Aydin bows to the real prince and moves to towards the rest of the Sindar soldiers there is an outbreak. Her soldiers are the ones to first draw their blades, pointing it towards Aydin causing the Sindars to give a war cry and draw their own ones, after all their crown Prince is being threatened.
Her father leaps to his feet with a roar as Aydin gestures for his own father to stand back and their soldiers to step down.
Reluctantly they both do it as Mahreen leans forward. She promised him she would let him handle this but she yearns to leap forward and go to him.
"What is the meaning of this?!" yells her father.
Normally a calm and even tempered man he is definitely not in this moment.
"Your Highness, I meant you no disrespect-"
"'No disrespect'?!" cries her oldest brother joining their father and leaping to his feet.
"You have played us for fools. You have insulted and tricked us. This is a great insult that cannot and will not stand. Not even for the Sindar Prince," hisses her father.
"Father no!" She cannot stay silent any longer.
Aydin may not fight but the rest of the Sindars sure will and if they declare war on them, it will be their kingdom that suffers. And her love that will have caused it.
"Mahreen, what are you doing, don't," hisses her sister's as her mothers stare with wide disappointed eyes at her.
She gulps down the emotion at her throat from seeing her family stare at her with betrayal. As her gaze goes towards Aydin, the man has a hand up to her, calling her to his side. He is her husband-to-be, she will defend him to her last breath.
"Mahreen!" chides a mother as she holds her head high and glides to him.
The guards part and with hesitation lower their weapons. They will not harm the very Princess they vowed to protect. Her hand is engulfed by his, his body edging in front of her in protection.
"Mahreen, my daughter, how could you?" asks her father distraught.
Aydin flexes his fingers in reassurance even as he remains stoic.
She blinks hard before replying, "have I not done as you have wished for all these years? He is a Prince father and no ordinary one at that.-"
"He has lied and deceived us all! He is no better than a-"
"I warn you not to finish that sentence! You do well to remember he is my son!"
"Father please," sharply asks Aydin before it all dissolves into an insult match.
His head turns back to Mahreen's father who has made his way before them. He is flanked by her brothers and their guards. It would be an intimidating presence but Aydin has faced far worse. Besides it is not him he is protecting now. It is her and for her he will face anyone and anything to shelter her.
"He did not lie to me. He did not deceive me," replies his bride-to-be.
In another situation he would have smiled. Yes, his warrior queen does not need to be sheltered. She can certainly hold her own. Still it is his duty and desire to protect her.
"Mahreen-" scolds a brother of hers spurring Aydin to her defence.
"It is true. Your daughter is as intelligent as she is beautiful. She realised the truth from a few interactions in a mere number of days. Do not chide her for your ignorance."
This time it's Mahreen who presses his hand in gratefulness. His words show his respect for her and despite her father's rage there is a hint of begrudging appreciation.
"No, the blame lies solely on you. What was your purpose? To infiltrate our Kingdom from the inside should none of my daughters take your fancy? You have completely disrespected my family and I. Now you expect me to hand my daughter to you?!"
They both ignore the last part. Mahreen has handed herself to Aydin and it will be agonising if her family does not stand with her but she has to remain true to herself.
"My purpose was to learn about your Kingdom. I cannot know it sat upon a throne. I cannot learn about it truly whilst wearing the crown. So to learn the unbiased truth I played the role of a soldier. I heard the opinions of those from farmers to fishermen to even your own guards. And...they are satisfied, complimentary. They hold great loyalty for their benevolent, intelligent King. They like your sons and have admiration for your daughters and wives. You set a fine example for a ruler, father and husband. I meant you no insult."
Mahreen waits with anticipation at the end of his speech. They are not flowery words meant to soften her father and she hopes he realises this. He gives away nothing as he steps forwards. One more step and he would be a breath between Aydin and him. Oh no...Mahreen's gut churns.
Surely her father is not going to harm her future husband.
She prays not.
"Maha, come here sweetheart," he calls eyes reluctantly shifting toward her.
She hesitates. If she leaves Aydin's side they will have an oppertunity to harm him without her interference and she won't stand for that. Aydin doesn't seem worried about that though.
Instead he untangles his hand from hers and with a gentle nudge to her lower back urges her towards her father. As soon as she's close to him, her father shockingly draws her into his embrace. Mahreen freezes for a moment unsure as to the situation before tentatively hugging him back.
With a kiss to her forehead, her father withdraws to hold her by the shoulders.
"You have always been the my most stubborn, devious child, I suppose I should have expected you would choose a husband that would be your equal in every sense," he quips with a smile at his lips.
It's as much of an approval as she can hope for. She beams at him, relieved he will accept her decision. Tucking her under one arm he walks them closer to Aydin and rests a hand on the man's shoulder.
"I understand your actions and you are pardoned, for my daughter's sake. However you are not forgiven in my eyes son, not until..."
Mahreen tenses hoping he will not set an impossible task in order to clench at this grudge.
"I want your forgiveness, Your Highness. Name your condition and if it within my means I shall make it happen."
The King eyes the Prince and evenly states, "you will be forgiven when you give me a grandchild."
Mahreen exhales loudly as her future husband simply laughs. Yes, it is very easy for him to do so especially as he is not the one having to bear a child. She grimaces at the thought but the process of making an heir is far more pleasurable.
"My bride and I will do our best," he says as her father lets her return to him. His hand curves around her waist as she playfully frowns at him.
"We will be in no rush. I wish to explore your Kingdom first," she decrees causing her father and him to exchange a glance.
That will certainly not do.
She will have to try her hardest not to leave them together alone or they will surely devise ways to 'tame' her and her father has experience. Her future husband does not need to be gaining such knowledge at all. With that the tension is cut. Both sets of royalty relax again and the celebrations are spurred back to life.
Mahreen endeavours the playful vomiting noises of her brothers and the excited giggles of her sisters. She even takes the praise from her mothers and remains silent as they give her instructions of her regime leading to the wedding which includes no leaving the palace walls and various bathing rituals. She dares not let them know her virginity has already been taken by him. After more and more congratulations she finally finds an oppertunity to slip away. Aydin and her had been separated by their families almost immediately and she had lost sight of him during her exchange from family member to family member.
Her escape she hopes has gone by unnoticed with all the excitement. She leans against the stone of the rooftop balcony in one of the more secluded towers. There are guards stationed at some of the adjacent ones but they will not say anything. Across on the horizon her Kingdom looms the lives of her citizens continuing as normal.
No, not her Kingdom anymore.
Soon she will leave the only home she has known and be a wife. Both scare her in equal parts. What if the Sindar people do not like her? What if she cannot adjust to their customs? She tenses hearing the presence of another person and prepares to paste a pleasant expression on her face. Only this person traps her against the structure, his chest to her back and hands beside her own on the flat surface.
Her shoulders relax knowing it's just him.
"If you wish to delay the wedding you only need to say, Princess. I will appease them," he offers. She shakes her head. That isn't what she wants.
"I was just thinking...this is the only home I've known. And you will be King one day but I do not know if I can be a Queen. I never expected to be one Aydin. As the years passed and my parents hopes shifted to my sisters I accepted I would be at most a minister or commander's wife or a lonely spinster. I never thought I would be a Queen."
His hands go to her hips as he spins her around to face him.
"You care about the people, Mahreen. You listen to them, you want to serve them and for that they will love you. I told you before, my vow is to provide only happiness to you."
Mahreen rests her palms against his chest. He has removed the armour so as to only be left with an old cotton shirt that in the breeze occasionally contours his hard body.
"Happiness for me is not be confined to palace walls, to not sit prettily on my bottom adorned in jewels and fine silks, to know of and have opinions on political matters. Can you accept that of your Queen?" she asks.
He must know that is who she is and becoming his wife will not change any of those traits of hers.
He smiles bending his head down, "my darling, those are the reasons I fell in love with you."
Her breath catches, he has never spoken those words to her and never thought she would yearn for them. She had lost hope a man would be capable of feeling that for her true self.
"Say it again," she demands, her voice hoarse with emotion.
"Mahreen, my Queen, I love you."
His forehead rests against hers, those soulful eyes intense in their gaze. Her own glaze with tears and despite a hard blink to hold them back, one slips over. His thumb wipes it away from her cheek and no doubt it has left a trail of kohl but he doesn't seem to care. "
Aydin," she whispers, "you are the King of my heart."
A/n Is this cheesy as heck? Yes, yes it is. I was feeling super whimsical and Disney-esque for this chapter and I hope it lives up to the same romantic feel as those movies.
But I want to make the next one less so but I haven't got any specific ideas or troupes in mind. Help a girl out and give me some suggestions of what you guys would like to see and I'll try figure something out.
I really enjoy writing these mini-stories since my attention span is so short and I hope you guys enjoy reading them :)