#zinjiq

Sajia shakes her head, ignoring the hiss of frustration as her mother continues to work on her hair. “And what if he harms me?” The real fear starts to creep up, imagining his hands on her, grabbing her, pinning her down… “What if he believes that I-”

“I said that is enough, daughter.” The last word is said without any feeling and makes her heart sink. Her mother pulls hard on her hair, twisting another ornament into it, the softer touch she was working with earlier all but gone. “Not another word about this, do you understand me?”

Sajia swallows hard. She nearly nods her head in response before remembering that she is supposed to be holding still. “Yes, ma’am.” Her voice is barely audible.

“Good.” Another ornament is twisted in and her mother’s voice is slightly more pleased when she speaks next. “Let’s take a break there before finishing up and getting you dressed. Do try to find some gratitude in your heart while I’m gone.”

The servants bow to her mother as she sweeps out of the room, half of them following Lady Aziz. The other few stay nearby. One young girl bows and with a quiet voice murmurs, “Is there anything I can do for you, My Lady?”

Sajia smiles politely at her, hoping that the poor girl wasn’t upset watching the two nobles argue in front of her. “I’m just fine, thank you. Why don’t you all go take a break? I would like the room to myself for a bit.”

Her maids excuse themselves, and Sajia gets to her feet. She twists her hands together, trying to stop them from shaking. It’s normal to be afraid, she tries to tell herself. Everything that she heard about Rahim is just… rumors. Maybe he won’t be anything like what she fears.

Sajia has heard her family speak of the battle on the border of Sakhta many years before she was even born. A powerful region, with trade cities, and many resources. The Emperor Zuhayr of Khurzan attacked the region in a bid to expand his own kingdom. He was successful. That’s why her marriage is so important- why it was decided before she was even born. It’s her region’s way of recognizing the Khurzanese rulers as their own. It’s her family line turning its back on Sakhta and forming an alliance with the emperor’s family. 

Zuhayr is the true monster here. Maybe Rahim was right to drive his father away: Exile him and take over. Maybe the young ruler has a kinder heart than she expected. Maybe she needs to go for a walk, get out of her head, and breathe. It’s normal to be frightened. But she can not allow herself to become neurotic.

The knock on the door makes her jump.

With a sigh, Sajia walks over. Her maids- bless their hearts- are too concerned for her mental state to leave her alone right now, and she’s preparing to let them in for a polite conversation. But when she opens the door, she’s left blinking in surprise at the sight that greets her.

It’s a young man- her age- standing in the doorway. He has dark skin like her, and curly black hair that goes just past his chin. He seems polished and dignified, broad shouldered and well-muscled. His black eyes are sparking with a playful curiosity and they match his slightly lopsided grin and the few curls that have sprung out of place. To her surprise, he’s not much taller than her. There are a couple scars on his face that draw her attention, and she tries not to study them too closely.

“Hey there, sorry if I’m interrupting-”

“Who are you?” She blurts out the question without meaning to, and almost immediately regrets interrupting. Whoever this man is, he’s clearly a noble of some sorts, and it’s beyond rude for a woman to cut him off mid speech.

He doesn’t seem offended by her interruption, if anything, his eyes seem to sparkle more as he looks at her. “Well, I was about to introduce myself if you would have given me more than two seconds.” She’s notes that his tone matches his appearance- kind and teasing, and surprisingly not even a slight of anger over her disrespect. “My name is Rahim Al Khalil. There’s a rumor going around that we’re getting married today.”

Sajia steps back immediately when he reveals who he is, not sure what to say or do at the revalation. The young emperor isn’t nearly as intimidating as she thought he would be, but there’s still the urge to sink into a bow and beg him for forgiveness for her earlier rudeness. Her hands go to the door handle, still staring at the young man in shock. “I- I don’t believe you’re supposed to see me before the ceremony, Your Majesty.”

He shrugs, but doesn’t move from his spot in the doorway. He’s leaning up against the doorframe now, arms crossed. There's a recent wound that looks to be a deep sword cut, and she remembers hearing about the infamous duel between the former emperor and the new one standing right in front of her. “I don’t really get along with rules. I thought it would be vastly more polite to introduce myself beforehand. If we are to get married, I would love to get to know you as soon as possible.”

“Oh.” Sajia swallows the lump in her throat. His scanning eyes are starting to make her uncomfortable now. Is he looking forward to what comes after the festivities? Does he believe that his kindness now may make up for what she must sacrifice later? “Well, I’m Sajia. Sajia Al Aziz. But I’m guessing you already knew that, considering that- that I- we-” She’s tripping over her words now, and Sajia breaks off, shaking her head. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, it’s just-”

His eyes soften to something akin to concern, but it only serves to make her more uncomfortable. “You can call me Rahim, if you wish. I am to be your husband, not your emperor. My goal is to work with you, not have you be merely a pretty face standing next to me.”

Sajia looks down and away at that. “I’m sorry to be so dismissive, your Majesty- Rahim.” His name feels foreign on her lips, too informal to belong there. “But I really should continue getting ready.”

“In theory, I should do that too. But I doubt they can make me any more handsome than what I already am.”

Sajia laughs softly at his playful arrogance, feeling a little lighter than before when their eyes meet for a second time. Sajia notices first, and she quickly looks away again, starting to fiddle with her bracelet as a distraction.

“Well I must be the luckiest man alive.” He still hasn’t left, and when she looks up, his smile returns. “I was told I was marrying for political reasons, and yet I get to marry the prettiest woman in all of Zinjiq.”

The compliment catches her off guard- like everything else His Majesty has been doing since he first arrived in her room. She smiles back at him- it’s a genuine smile at the compliment. She’s been told that before, but never in a way that seemed so… sincere. Her head ducks slightly in embarrassment before she speaks again. “Thank you, You- Rahim. Your words are kind.”

He looks at her for a moment longer before laughing, almost nervous, and brushing a curl behind his ear. It pops right back out of place. “I promise I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.” Is he just now realizing her discomfort? Men really are blind. “I just meant that… you really are beautiful, and I am hoping I can find a way to make you happy.” There’s a new seriousness to his tone that wasn’t there before, along with a new awkwardness like he’s suddenly ventured into a path that he’s uncertain of. “I wish to give you the best life possible, Lady Aziz, and I will strive to be the greatest husband I can be for you.”

He bows to her, a gesture that seems wildly out of place considering his status. “It is truly an honor to meet you.” His words sound like a farewell now. “I’ll see you in a few hours- and don’t worry.” That playful gleam is back as he winks at her. “I’ll pretend to be surprised when I see your beauty for the first time.”

Sajia can feel another soft smile flicker across her face at that, a laugh nearly escaping. He hesitates for just a brief moment, as if he has more to say, but then he turns and leaves, closing the door gently behind him. His footsteps fade away into the distance, and Sajia is surprised at the disappointment that strikes her when they’re gone completely.

How did he manage that? How did the man that she’s so scared of manage to make her smile, to make her laugh? Are her perceptions about the man he is that off? Or is he simply that good of an actor?

She moves to sit back down in the chair, looking at herself in the mirror. Her hair is only halfway finished, the bronze and diamond ornaments only adorning one side of her head thus far. Her makeup isn’t on yet, and she’s wearing simple robes, not her elaborate wedding gown. What did he see in her? Why did he call her beautiful when she looks like a mess?

“Hello?” His words even sound far away, muffled and distant even though they’re coming from his own mouth. “Is there anyone out there? Where the hell am I?”

For a moment, that same silence settles heavy over the foreign land. And then it’s broken by a piercing scream.

Sajia.

“SAJIA!” He’s sprinting towards the sound before he can even process what is happening. She’s in trouble, she’s hurt, she’s-

“Rahim, help!”

No.

“I’m coming!” He’s weaving through tall city walls, panting in his desperation to get to her. He doesn’t know how he ended up in a city, but he doesn’t care. She needs him, his beloved, he would sacrifice the world to save her. His eyes are burning as he fights back tears, terrified that he’ll be too late.

He bursts out from behind a tall wall, back into the fog-covered landscape that was empty a few moments prior. Something tries to tell him that this is wrong, but then he sees her. Kneeling on the ground in front of a soldier. Her blue eyes meet his. They’re wide and scared, filled with pain. There’s blood on the ground around her.

“Rahim, please! Help-”

Her plea is cut off as the soldier plunges a dagger into her heart.

“NO!”

Time seems to stop as he staggers forward, moving far too slow. Or maybe he was just that far away. It takes too long to get to her side, and by then it’s too late.

“Sajia-” His voice is scarcely more than a whisper. He gently cradles her body towards him, running his hand along her face. “Beloved, please-” He’s seen enough death to know that there is no longer life left in her body. And something inside of him shatters.

Rahim can feel his entire world crashing down around him. She can’t just be gone- not like this. Not so brutally, not so quickly. She’s too kind, she’s too wonderful… He pulls her closer, rocking her slowly in his arms. His eyes close and he buries his face in her hair, letting the tears flow freely. It’s not supposed to be her, she isn’t supposed to die from this war. A sob escapes, his shoulders shaking-

And laughter rings in his ears.

Laughter at his pain. At his grief.

His head snaps up, raw anger mixing with his grief, and suddenly he’s not there.

The walls are cold, black stone around him. The foreign landscape is gone in the blink of an eye, and so is the still-warm body he was clutching tightly in his arms. There’s a biting cold around his wrists and a flicker of torchlight in the corner of the room- No, the cell. The guards are laughing. The soldiers are laughing.

It wasn’t real.

The tears are still flowing down his face, even as he slowly raises his head to look into the eyes of the man that forced this memory on him- the one torturing him. His eyes narrow in defiance as he tries to forget about the not-memory, even though the desperate cries for help and that pain-filled scream will haunt his dreams. Fingertips are still pressed against his temples, ready to plunge him back into another horror story at any moment.

The Teyshirian soldier studies him. “I didn’t know it was going to be quite that… effective.” His lips quirk up into a smile. “Wanna try again?”

“Stop it.” Rahim snaps instantly, in the same tone as a command that one in Khurzan would be a fool to ignore. He tries to pull away, but his arms are restrained tightly and he barely has any room to move. That stupid smile turns into a smirk, and Rahim yanks on the chains, wishing he could lunge and rip out the man’s throat. His anger is fueled by how easily they managed to hurt him by a simple image… A false memory. 

But even then, there’s a stab of terror that maybe the memory is real to the person sharing it… What if she’s been killed during his time as a prisoner?

“Will you fuckin stop it.” He repeats, voice practically a snarl. “Just stop, you sick son of a-”

“I don’t think so.”

Before he can say another word in protest, he’s back in the land of nightmares.