( I've put the story within spoiler tags because I'm tired of having to scroll through GIANT WALLS OF TEXT in thread mode).
Ashara
The Royal Palace 550th Year of the Morning Star
Under the blaze of the hot desert sun, a slave girl stood outside on a balcony of the royal palace overlooking the city. She squinted her eyes and used her hand to shield against the light as she peered out into the horizon.
“Can you see them?” Princess Aaliyah asked from within the bath chamber. She was soaking in a large tub, the water filled with scented oils and rose petals. She laid back, with her head resting by the edge.
“Yes,” Sura answered as she leaned further out the to get a better view. From the northern part of the upper city, she saw a group of Drustanis soldiers riding towards the palace. They wore the colors of House Kartane, carrying black banners edged with crimson.
“How can they bear to wear such armor in all this heat?” Sura muttered. A truly formidable sight they presented, armed as if they were heading towards war. The Drustanis army lived up to its name as the finest warriors in all of the eastern kingdoms.
As Drustanis troops approached closer, Sura quickly scanned through their numbers. Each of them held the same, grim expression. The armor they wore were identical—heavy chainmail with the emblem of a serpentine dragon emblazoned over their black tabards. “I do not think that Prince Ramiz is among them,” Sura said as she turned around to face her mistress.
Aaliyah’s shoulders dropped somewhat, as if disappointed. "I did not expect that he would come himself. I am not important enough to warrant his troubles,” she replied with a hint of bitterness in her voice.
"Nonsense. For Your Highness, he should have to capture the sun and stars."
“Do you think that he will like me?”
"Of course—once he has seen you, he will forget all others. There is not a woman who is more lovely than you in all of the empire."
"There is not a tongue more glib than yours in all of Ashara," Aaliyah admonished in a tone that was not without affection. For the first time, Sura saw her mistress smiled, albeit it was small and brief. “But that was not what I meant. Do you think that he will ever come to love me?” she asked, her voice quiet and anguished.
A frown appeared on Sura's face as she contemplated the absurdity of such a question. "Love would be impossible. After all, Drustanis men do not have hearts."
"Not a single one, Sura?" her mistress asked in a whimsical voice, with one brow raised as if to challenge that claim.
Sura crossed her arms, her expression darkened. "Not a single one. Your Highness knows what they have done to your father; What they have done to all of us."
With that reminder, all humor had left. "I have not forgotten. The Asharan people will always remember blood debts.” That had been spoken like vow.
Two years ago, after Ashara had fallen to the Drustanis Empire, the royal family had been executed after the death of their king. Their bodies had been cremated, deprived even of sacred funeral rites. All members of House Shahrizai had been killed—all but one. Princess Aaliyah, the king's only child, had remained hidden for many years. But at last, they had found her.
The Drustanis had brought Aaliyah back to Asshai, the place of her birth. They treated her with respect, but a gilded cage was still a prison. She was confined to her chambers until her fate had been decided. Sura had always assumed that the princess would be killed along with the rest of House Shahrizai, but that was not so. Rather than execution, it was decided that Aaliyah would be wed to Prince Ramiz, the second son of the Drustanis emperor. Perhaps they had taken pity upon the blind girl, but she would be spared of the same fate as her kin.
Sura had been of the many slave girls assigned to serve the Asharan princess. Never before had she seen someone so beautiful. She was left awestruck and nervous, stammering like an fool every time she spoke before the princess. However, her mistress was kind, never mocking Sura’s clumsiness or scolding her for it. Such kindness was unexpected, especially coming from someone of the royal family. As a slave, she was used to being treated with cruelty or indifference, but her mistress had never spoken to Sura with disdain. Aaliyah’s voice was always gentle and patient.
It was known that the Asharan princess was born blind at birth. Nevertheless, her mistress was always graceful. She moved like a poem, composed of mists and dreams. Despite her lack of sight, Aaliyah could play the qin flawlessly, as she often did—from morning until night—until her fingers blistered from the seven-stringed instrument. Confined to her quarters, there was not much else for her to do.
When Aaliyah played, she fully captured the attention of everyone within the vicinity. Her songs were always beautiful, but so very sad. From its melody, Sura could feel the underlying grief and sorrow of the person who wrote it.
One day, Sura had offered to read to Aaliyah, who could not for she was blind. Day by day, Aaliyah began to feel more at ease. The coldness which had always guarded her wounded heart like a shield was no longer there.
Sura had always sensed that Aaliyah was lonely. Although the princess was constantly attended by servants and courtiers, in her heart she remained abandoned. Sura herself would not dare to consider herself as a friend of Aaliyah’s, for she was unworthy—a lowly slave—but over time, Sura believed that they developed a bond.
Eventually, Sura allowed herself to relax. No longer was she a nervous wretch who stuttered every time she spoke. No longer was she beaten for the slightest of errors, as her former masters have done. Aaliyah was kind. Aaliyah was patient.
With one last glance at the approaching Drustanis troops, Sura retreated from the balcony and returned indoors. She went over to lay out the clothes which the princess would wear—a gown of white silk embroidered with golden threads, and matching slippers adorned with expensive gemstones. She touched the fabric, which was so smooth that it seemed to run through her fingers like water. Never had Sura ever worn something so fine.
Then, she spun around as she heard the sound of the door opening. There had been no knock. It must have been one of the other serving girls, she thought, for no one else would dare intrude.
She looked behind the screen which shielded the bathtub from the entrance. It was Lord Asher, the appointed governor of Asshai, and brother of the former empress. He stood tall and arrogant, a suffocating aura of superiority surrounding him. In his right hand he held a large box. He was staring intently at the screen, as if his gaze could bore holes through it, if he looked hard enough.
The nerve of that man! Sura ran over, placing herself between Lord Asher and the screen. She stood upright before him, acting as if she were a cover to hide her mistress from his piercing eyes. “The princess is still bathing—please come at another time, Your Excellency,” Sura said sternly.
His eyes flared, a dangerous warning. She doubted that anyone has ever challenged him before, and lived long after. Especially not a slave. He struck her across the face, a stinging blow which she had expected to receive. “I ought to have your tongue cut out for your impudence. Now, get out!” he hissed.
Sura stood, holding onto her bruised cheek. She could begin to taste the tang of blood in her mouth. Yet, she did not move, not wanting to leave her mistress alone with that man. She was not sorry for her defiance. For Aaliyah, she would endure.
“Go on, Sura,” said the voice behind the screen. It was spoken in confident, assuring tone, ringing clear throughout the marble bath chamber.
Immediately, she obeyed as she gathered her skirts to leave. Although Sura had left the room, she remained behind the door, listening to them.
Lord Asher had walked around the screen, now standing directly before the princess. The flower petals which lie scattered atop of the bathwater scarcely covered her. His eyes raked slowly across her body, in an appreciative gaze. “You do not disappoint,” he said in a low voice.
Aaliyah continued to wash herself, her face remaining placid as if nothing has happened. “You are not to strike my slaves again, Lord Asher. That girl belongs to me. I—alone—will discipline her as I see fit,” her warning was sharp and commanding, a reminder of her royal lineage.
“One thousand apologies,” Asher said as he bowed low in exaggeration, as if to mock her. “I know you have a gentle heart, but you are far too lenient with the slaves. They should treated more severely, lest they forget their place.”
His words were thinly veiled threat directed towards Aaliyah herself. Although she was a princess, what power she had died along with the destruction of House Shahrizai. Had her father still been in power, a man such as Asher would’ve had his throat slit the moment he stepped foot inside her chambers uninvited.
However, the tides have changed. The Asharan princess was without allies. Now, it was Asher’s men who stand guard outside her door. She was at the mercy of the Drustanis, a pawn within their grasp to use or destroy as they please.
“I have come to inform you that the escorts have arrived—”
Lies. He had come with the intention of watching her bathe.
“It appears that they have sent General Malik Severin. You have heard of him?”
The man responsible for the fall of Ashara, the Black Viper Of Drustan. Everyone in the eastern kingdoms knew of his name. It was he who laid siege on their city walls. It was General Malik who defeated King Fariq, and brought his head before the emperor of Drustan.
It was infuriating that they would send him as an envoy to Ashara out of all people.
“I have heard of him,” Aaliyah answered simply, her tone bored and impassive. Lord Asher watched her intensely, studying her every movement. Surely, he thought to provoke a more powerful reaction, but Aaliyah’s face remained unreadable to him.
Asher’s eyes narrowed into predatory slits, but his tone remained light and pleasant as always. “I regret that I will not be able to attend the royal wedding myself—I hope that you will not take offense. There is much business to which I must attend to: duties to re-assign, conspiracies to uproot, traitors to execute and such,” he said so blithely.
“Nevertheless, I want to wish you a long and joyous marriage with the prince. Your presence here will forever be missed. Perhaps one day, when my duties will allow, I will visit Drustan. I hope of having the honor to hear you play one of your songs again—”
“—If that is all, then you are dismissed, Lord Asher,” Aaliyah interrupted, “If you must prattle on, then save it for some other time when I am properly dressed. I wish to bathe in peace,” she said dryly.
“Of course,” he replied, although he did not depart right away. For a passing moment he lingered on as he continued to watch her.
An audible sigh was heard. Aaliyah continued bathing as if he were not there, not paying him the slightest attention. She never blushed or attempt to cover herself, but rather the contrary. Every move, every stroke of her hands was seduction, as if to goad him further.
Lord Asher’s fingers were tightly clenched around the box he carried, his knuckles turning white. At once, his pupils darkened as his breathing grew deeper. For all his cunning and ruthlessness, he was still just a man.
The Lord Governor began to clear his throat, “I have brought you a wedding gift. It would please me to see you wear it. You would do me a great honor,” he whispered as he placed the box onto the dresser A smirk appeared on his sharp face. He presented Aaliyah with the same mocking bow as before. In a graceful movement, he turned around and began to leave after one last fleeting glance.
Sura dashed from the door. She stood far away against the wall with her head bowed low, hands clasped together. The Lord Governor passed by Sura, his anger apparently abated as he paid her no further heed. As he walked down the hallway, he began to whistle an Asharan tune.
When Asher was well out of sight, Sura entered the bathroom once again. “After Your Highness has married Prince Ramiz, you should convince him to have Asher’s eyes ripped out,” Sura said fiercely.
Aaliyah laughed in response, “Perhaps I will do just that. Well, what has that old lecher given me?” her mistress asked from behind the screen.
Sura walked over to the dresser, eyeing the box he left with suspicion. It was black velvet, tied by a simple ribbon. She did not dare to touch it, for fear that something horrible would spring out from inside.
Cautiously, Sura untied the ribbon and opened the lid by a small crack. Nothing happened—no scorpions or snakes slithered out of the box as she had half-expected. When Sura opened the lid fully, she gasped.
“A ruby necklace,” Sura answered; Multiple crimson gemstones set on a heavy chain linked together with entwining braids of gold, which would drape across one's chest. The centermost ruby was sculpted into the shape of a heart, nearly large enough as an egg. In the sunlight, it shone and reflected light the color of blood. Indeed, it was a treasure worthy for a queen.
“Blessed Iset, it must be worth over ten thousand gold aureii,” Sura murmured in awe. In the slave markets of Asshai, lives could be bought and sold for much less. A peasant could work his entire life, and still he wouldn’t be able to afford such splendor.
“Pack it with my other belongings,” Aaliyah said dismissively with a wave of her hand.
“Will you not wear it, Princess? It’s beautiful—” even if it had been a gift from the devil.
“I doubt that Asher has given me that necklace out of his generosity. No gift comes without a price,” her mistress said.
That much, Sura knew to be true. Such a grand present was only given freely between the most intimate of lovers. Lord Asher desired Aaliyah, as all men did. Often, Sura would notice him stealing glances at the princess, as he did today, finding any excuse he could to come see her. Had he hoped that she would reciprocate his feelings by this offering? A ridiculous notion.
Although her mistress had been stripped of all power, he would not dare to do more than look. Aaliyah was meant only for Prince Ramiz. Soon, they will depart for Drustan, away from Asshai and its lord governor.
“If the gems are as large as you say, well—I wouldn’t want to strain myself by wearing it,” Aaliyah said with a wry smile. She then slowly got out of the tub, reaching for a towel hanging on a nearby rack.
Sura quickly ran over to aid the blind princess. She had always been there to help Aaliyah dress, whenever she ate, whenever she wanted to hear a story from the books. Throughout the day, Sura remained by the princess’s side, forever a shadow to Aaliyah’s light.
After the princess was dressed, Sura brushed her mistress’s long, silken hair, which cascaded down her shoulders like a river of darkness. She anointed her lady with perfume the scent of jasmine, a dab on each wrist and on the neck.
Aaliyah’s eyes were heavily lined with kohl, bringing out the intensity of its gaze. Her eyes shone brilliantly, the color of a cold winter sky. They were pale blue with flecks of silver. In darkness, they held a slight eerie glow which was both riveting and beautiful, more so than all the jewels of Ashara.
The paleness of her eyes stood out in contrast to her darker skin, which was the color of bronze, kissed by the sun. Her complexion was warm and flawless, untouched by time.
It was said that House Shahrizai was blessed by the Heavens, an ancient bloodline which descended from fallen angels. If there had been any doubt to the validity of that claim, it was dispelled by the mere sight of the Asharan princess. Indeed, Aaliyah must have been the daughter of gods, for no mortal could attain such perfection.
Sura stepped back and admired the princess. “When the prince sees you, he will forget all about Drustan, Ashara, and the war,” she sighed.
“That’s what I’m hoping,” Aaliyah said with a quiet smile.
Sign in to Mod The Sims
( I've put the story within spoiler tags because I'm tired of having to scroll through GIANT WALLS OF TEXT in thread mode).
