#ad finem

You purse your lips, watching him. As impossible as it sounds, you know what you felt. Something was special about that dagger. That energy, that power, was it magic? You know it, deep inside. You don’t doubt that traveling through time and space was exactly what you did. As impossible as it sounds. As much as you can’t wrap your head around it. As much as you don’t understand.

“Baekhyun,” you say. When he doesn’t respond - is he ignoring you? - you try again. “Baekhyun. Why don’t we figure out what we need to do to get out of here?”

His head snaps up to look at you. “Do you have a plan?” You flinch at the sudden hostility in his tone.

“No, but just - let’s try to think over it. What do we know about the dagger?”

He laughs incredulously. “Nothing? Nobody knows where it was forged, who created it, why it’s special. That’s why it’s so sensational.”

“Okay, but…” you wrack your brains. Running over everything the professor had said, every little detail of the pictures and the manuscripts he’d explained. “Hold on. Show me the dagger.” You take it from him, trailing your fingers into the arcane carvings that cover every inch. Over the dips in the handle. “Seven jewels,” you breathe, eyes wide as it hits you.

Baekhyun raises a brow. “Seven jewels…I hate to break it to you, but we don’t have those.”

“Hear me out, okay?” You huff, trying not to snap at him. “Seven jewels, seven locations picked for the museum exhibit. They were lost through history. What if we’re supposed to get them back? What if the dagger wants us to find them?”

“That’s pointless,” he argues. “We only have seven recorded locations. There are centuries between each of those. The jewels could have been lost absolutely anywhere.”

“It makes perfect sense, though, don’t you see? Why would the dagger bring us here if the jewel wasn’t here?” Letting out a small breath, you soften. “Maybe it could be anywhere, Baekhyun, but I feel like it’s here. I feel like this is what we’re supposed to do.”

He’s quiet for a long time. “I don’t trust instincts,” he says finally. “Much less yours.”

Ignoring his jab, you press on. “But you felt that, didn’t you? The dagger’s energy. There was no way you could explain that, and you still felt it.”

He sighs. Pauses. “Okay, so maybe you could be right about this. How would we even - theoretically - start to look for these jewels?” He stands, hands moving as he talks. “This is probably a huge city. There are hundreds of people who could have hidden it absolutely anywhere.”

You stand, too, dusting off your clothes. There’s a veil hanging around your face - you adjust it so it covers your hair, which has been pinned up in a twist. “Why don’t we get started?”

The street outside the alley is more vibrant than anything you’ve ever seen before. The path you’d taken lead up a hill, so sprawled out in the flat land below is the main bazaar, a street lined with haphazard stalls, shanties, and smaller brick buildings dotted throughout. There’s no layout, but narrow paths wind through the shops, shaded with heavy cloth dyed in multiple colors and patterns. Hawkers sit on rugs surrounded by their wares. You can hear the mess of noise, shouts in different languages as merchants call out to passerby.  

As you exit the alley, you cross a man settled on a rug. Around him are pots full of spices of all kinds, small glass bottles of amber liquids. He leers at you out of the single eye peeking out from beneath his headpiece. “A pretty woman should have pretty perfume. Why not buy from me?”

To your shock, you can understand him perfectly - even though he’s speaking a garbled mix of medieval Spanish. From the look on Baekhyun’s face, he can understand it too. You choke out some kind of noise, and, grabbing Baekhyun’s hand, yank him away. You have no idea where this path leads; on one side of you is a tent-like wall of orange cloth, on the other, more shops.

“I can give you what you want for that dagger, Senor,” calls a raspy voice, and a craggy hand comes out of nowhere to pluck the dagger from Baekhyun’s loose grip. “Beautiful craftsmanship. What do you want in return? I have the finest silks from the Orient, jewelry from the Ottomans. Anything. For your woman, also.” The man steps out, a large grin on his face. He runs his fingers over the blade.

Baekhyun freezes. He stutters something, trying to grab for it. You still his hands. “No need, sir,” you say, and somehow - you’re speaking the same language. You don’t stop to think, instead holding your hand out to the man, stuttering a little before realizing the foreign words come to you without you having to try. “I’m not selling it.”

Reluctantly, he hands the dagger back. Your hands shake as you take it.

This time, when you hurry away, you manage to push into the main street. It’s almost as crowded as the bazaar, with people hurrying back and forth, the occasional group of men on horses trotting through. You have to nudge through the small crowds that gather at the bazaar stalls before you make it onto the street proper.

The first thing you see is the fort. Crowning a hill and overlooking the city is a line of red stone walls and towers, tall enough to hide what lies behind.

“What do you think?” you murmur to Baekhyun, who’s caught up to you.

“That?” He shields his eyes from the afternoon sun as he squints up. You glance at the dagger in your hand, then at the fort again.

“I think it’s as good a place as any to start looking,” you say, and you know you’re right. Something - is it the dagger? - is tugging you towards the fort, a taut string that calls out: follow me.

“Right,” Baekhyun says, and turns to you. “Hide that thing first, though. We can’t lose it. Here.” He pinches the draping material of your skirts. “It should be pretty secure under that fabric.”

You nod. Pulling the veil off your head, you wrap the dagger tightly and then tuck it in the band of your skirt, arranging the cloth so it hides the small bulge. “Let’s go.”

Making your way up to the fort is slow going. The street is narrow and crowded, packed with people of all kinds - horsecarts carrying covered wares, women in groups wending silently through, the occasional soldier in full regalia. None of them stop to look at you though, and you push through, careful to keep moving in the right direction.

At last, it looms above you: the al-Hamra, fortress of red dawn, as splendidly brilliant as you imagined. Even on the austere outer walls have rippling carved stonework, finer than embroidery. The walls are high and imposing this close to the base. The gates swarm with soldiers in different uniforms, and from here you can’t make out who is whom.

“Wait,” Baekhyun calls quietly, and pulls you into a small alcove between two buildings. “Now what?”

You realize you have no idea where to go next and wince, not meeting his eyes. “I, uh, I didn’t think this far ahead.”

He gives you an exasperated look. “So you were just going to stroll in there? Maybe stop to chat with a couple of soldiers? Waltz into the throne hall or whatever and ask the Sultan if he’s seen a mysterious ancient jewel-”

“Stop it,” you hiss. “Stop being so sarcastic, it’s not helping.”

“Stop being so reckless, it’s not helping either.”

You try to ignore the twinge in your chest at his words - he’d been polite before, but now it seemed like he’d rather be stuck with anyone else than you. “Why do you have to be so mean about it?”

He glares at you. “For starters, you got me stuck in fifteenth-century Spain.”

You splutter. “I what? What? Oh yeah, suddenly I gained mystical time travel powers and dumped us here for fun! You were the one who touched the stupid dagger, anyway.” You meet his stare with equal ferocity. If he was going to be insufferable, two could play that game.

“Fine,” he mutters after a tense silence, looking away from you. He glances at the dagger, tucked at your hip. “I have an idea.”

“We’re going to ‘waltz in and ask the Sultan?’”

He gives you a pointed look. “No. We’re going to disguise ourselves.”

“How original.”

“I - you - it’s not like you have a better idea.”

You sigh. “Okay, I admit I don’t.”

He hums, thinking, as he watches the soldiers milling around the base of the fortress. There are two groups you can make out, one in bright red uniform, the other in grey-brown, stalking at the gate, questioning anyone who passes.

“There,” Baekhyun says finally, pointing towards one of the side walls. Behind a hedge of firs is a small building with an open doorway, leading past the wall and into whatever’s beyond. People enter and leave - soldiers, women dressed in simple clothes.

“If I could get one of those robes, I would look like a soldier,” he says. Then he glances at you from head to toe, appraising your costume. You look down at what you’re wearing again. Compared to some of the other women you saw on the way, you’re dressed plainly, a solid mud-green linen skirt with none of the embellishments a woman of status would have. Your shoes are unworn but simple. “I think I could pass for a servant,” you muse.

“You could,” he agrees. “So here’s the plan. You go in first, you get me a disguise, and then we both go in together, okay?” He starts back towards the fort without waiting, and gripping your skirts to keep from falling, you rush to keep up, cursing him under your breath. How were you just supposed to get him a disguise?

Coming up behind the first ridge of firs, you watch the doorway through a gap in the trees. There aren’t many people there, and it’s hidden enough that you won’t be visible to the soldiers at the gate.

You swallow. “Do I have to go first?”

“Just do it, Y/N,” he whines, bouncing from impatience. “Go now, it’s empty.”

You ignore your racing heart and start forward, down the cobbled path that leads to the entrance. All you can do is hope nobody notices you’re different - the last thing you’d want is to be stuck in the past forever, tossed in a cell with no means of going back home. At least you’re the one with the dagger and not him. It’s a small comfort. 

You keep your head down and walk slowly, trying not to draw attention to yourself, trying to mimic the walk of the other servant women - silent and graceful. Even for servants, they’re still more poised than you are.

Halfway down the path - no one’s noticed you yet. Your nerves lessen, and you speed up a little bit, glancing occasionally around you to make sure you stay invisible. Almost there…

“Hey!” yells a voice, and you stiffen, panicking, lifting your head slowly to find the source. One of the soldiers is striding towards you, hand clutching at the sword in his belt. “You!”

You point to yourself, eyes growing wide. “Me?” you choke out.

“Yes, you, what are you doing there! Don’t you know all hands are needed inside the palace?” He barks, face drawn tight and beet-red. “Stupid servant-girls, dallying when there’s work to be done. The delegation arrives today.”

He turns without another word - and to your relief, without a closer look at you - stalks off, hand still at his sword. You let out the breath you’ve been holding. Turning back, you scan the tree line for a glimpse of Baekhyun’s face, but it’s thick enough that you can’t make out anything.

You hurry back towards the doorway and slip through before you can hesitate; finding yourself in a narrow passageway that winds between the outer and inner walls of the fort, the ground uneven as it follows the curve of the mountain below.

Footsteps echo down the corridor behind you. Cursing, you pick up your skirts and start to run down the empty path ahead of you. The sound of them fades away as you move further, and soon you find yourself in an open plaza lined with the bustle of people hurrying from place to place, groups of men on horseback.To your right, the massive battlements stretch into the sky, tall and imposing, casting long shadows across the matching red stone of the courtyard.

Shaking your head, you frown. Focus. Where would you find a disguise? You circle the plaza’s edge, keeping close to the wall and peering into arches and open doorways. Every other one is either shut or leads into an empty room. You pause at a grander arch that leads into what seems to be a large court, and, gripping the edge of the arch, you peer down the length of it.

It’s massive - a hundred feet wide and even longer, paved in bright white marble that reflects the afternoon sunlight, turning the whole court into a vision. A long pool of water stretches out like a shimmering carpet to the far end of the court, where the far wall is a line of ornate scalloped arches that shade the passageways behind them. Every inch of the stone walls, even the pillars, is covered in intricately detailed carvings. On either side of the pool is a singular row of flora: orange trees, pomegranate trees, myrtle and rose. The floral scent hits you in a wave of sweetness.

It’s so beautiful your breath is taken away.

Here, it’s calm. There’s none of the crowd that swarmed the outside - the water in the pool is still enough that the surface is perfectly glassy, and underneath the surface is a fluttering plethora of gold-finned fishes. The only voices you can hear are hushed murmurs along the sides of the court, behind the trees. Somewhere beyond is the lapping of a fountain.

Dazed by the gentle elegance of the place, you start along the path at the side, gazing up at the trees in awe. The smell of them is strong here, their perfume wafting into you, cloying, making you dizzy.

A hand clamps down on your shoulder and you let out a shriek. Another hand covers your mouth at the noise.

“Quiet,” Baekhyun hisses, and your racing heart slows when you recognize him.

You whirl around, glaring at him. “For God’s sake, if you wanted me to stay quiet you shouldn’t have surprised me like that!”

He rolls his eyes. “And if you wanted to get rid of me, you should have actually tried. I thought you were going to help me, not escape on your own.” He says it sarcastically, but you see the slightest hint of relief in his eyes. He thought I was going to abandon him?

“I was going to help you,” you say, crossing your arms. “Don’t you trust me?”

“That’s the thing, I kind of don’t.” Ouch, that hurt. You inhale sharply, trying not to let him see that it affected you.

“I can’t help that. Either you trust me or you don’t. We’re in this together.”

His eyes bore into you. You squirm underneath the weight of his stare but refuse to back down. You relax when he looks away first. “Okay, fine. Now that we’re in here…”

“We need to find the jewel.”

“It’s not that simple. We need a plan.” He frowns, a furrow appearing between his brows, as he paces back and forth in front of you. You can’t help but notice how his lips turn down into a sort-of pout as he thinks, how his expression grows focused and thoughtful.

A minute passes, then two. “Well, do you have one?” you ask impatiently.

“No. Shh, I’m thinking,” Baekhyun mutters, not looking up.

You look around, scanning the surroundings. At the end of the hall, behind the arches, is an entrance to another corridor, the inside dark, devoid of the sunlight that’s splattered everywhere else. Curious, you start toward it. You have no idea what’s inside or whether you’re allowed, but nevertheless, you find yourself unable to resist looking in.

It’s empty, and past the line of pillars that stand sentry on either side of the hall, you can make out a fountain. A few women, their faces covered by veils, gather at the far end, huddled in a group, where another ornate archway lets light spill into the courtyard. You move inside, one step at a time, careful not to alert anyone by your footsteps.

The courtyard - like the rest of the palace - is beautiful. The sunlight cast between the pillars lies in golden stripes across the marble floor. Every inch of the stone of the wall is carved into infinitesimal, delicate patterns. The pillars rise into golden arches that lead off into dim, orange-lit passageways.

You turn suddenly at the sound of Baekhyun’s footsteps approaching. You put your finger to your lips, motioning for him to be quiet. “You make too much noise,” you hiss quietly.

“Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all. “I have an idea, by the way.”

You motion for him to continue.

“We’ll have to find the throne hall. That’s where it has to be. Remember, according to the professor, the dagger was given to the Spanish rulers by the Sultan of Granada when they took the city? This must be the end of the siege. There are Spanish troops all around the city, they’re the ones in the red uniform. That means the King and Queen are arriving soon.”

“Are you sure?” You ask dubiously.

“As sure as I can be. You did listen to the professor, didn’t you?”

You scoff. “I would know the facts anyway.”

“And yet, it’s me who comes up with them.” He smirks. Then his expression falls serious, and he nods once at you. “Let’s go?”

You nod back. “Let’s go.”

a/n okay so i’m not that happy with how this turned out? writing historical fiction for me needs a l o t of editing and idk i’m not that pleased w this but i’ve kept y’all waiting long enough! i hope u like it~