The intricacy of human mind was hard to understand. The many layers and complex blends of emotions that traversed from simple black and white to the middle ground of grey. Nothing was between the two distinctions and that made it even harder to come to terms. You'd see someone act with joy and someone right by the joyous man, sobbing. It was impossible to ever understand the human emotions as a whole, you would always struggle. Even now standing at the edge of their apartments as Samra looked at the large palace gates, she wondered why her mother and her were locked away.

While the rest of the kingdom rejoiced the arrival of the Persian king and his entourage, she felt morbid. Her heart had sunk to the pits of her stomach. The fancy procession and the well dressed women that had entered the palace piqued her interest, however she was not to leave the walls of her home. It made her feel things that were ugly. Envy and jealousy on top of the list. She could imagine an ugly shade of green pooping its twisted head from under her hair, licking her happiness and tainting it so that she was no longer satisfied.

As the greetings between the kings were supposed to last a whole hour, Samra sunk to her knees on the rooftop. Her head was placed against the cream walls, her fingers running across the cracked plaster. It needed to be repainted she though, another expense added to her father's list. She pulled her knees to her chest, her head resting against the bend of the wall her eyes staring at her mother's hunched figure. If she could, she knew, she would walk into her bedroom and fall asleep. However the guards her aunts had set at their doors made sure the mother - daughter pair watched the proceedings under the burning sun.

"Khud tou sab saye mein hain, bas ap aur mein hi iss aag barasti dhoop mein rhenay par majboor hai," she groaned.

[Everyone is standing under a shade, its just you and I who are forced to stay in this sweltering heat.]

"Ahista bolein, kisi nai sun liya tou aap keh walid keh liye mushkilat bhar jaye gi," her mother replied.

[Speak in a lower tone, if someone hears you the troubles for your father will increase.]

"Standing in such heat, under the glaring sunshine is the real criminal offense". Samra shook her head.

"Aye meray khuda mein iss ka kia karun gi?" Yumna slapped her forehead.

[Oh my God what will I do of this girl?]

Samra giggled under her breath. Her mother so furious with her was a comical sight. Her sharp eyes narrowed and lined with a layer of blazing red anger. The usual soft posture, rigid and her grip on her hands stronger than ever. Yumna gripped her face and pinched her cheeks tightly, running a careful look over her daughter's face she smiled in contentment. The bright orange sun rays brought out the gold, warm undertones from her supple molten brown skin. Samra looked nothing short of stunning in the banarsi saree. The bright red with gold embroidery rested on her skin in a delicious grip.

"This is definitely your color," Yumna nodded appreciatively.

"I would love to own more such colors. Do you want to visit the markets before I turn nineteen?" She tilted her head.

"Samra—you know how it is," she said.

"Kisi din tou aap haan kahein gi na," Samra replied.

[One day you will say yes.]

There was an optimistic glint inside her eyes. Samra was a hopeful person for the most part, although sometimes she caved in and ended up letting dark, upsetting thoughts take over. A handful of moments she could count where she had isolated herself and cried tears of pure, maroon blood. Times when she questioned God and her luck. She asked for answers and gave up. But a few days would pass and all signs of her depressive phase would leave her body. That was just who she was, and Yumna knew that very well. As mother though, she hoped her daughter could always be the ray of sunshine.

"Mama— iss dharti par vapis aajain". Samra snapped her fingers, breaking Yumna's trance like state.

[Mama— come back to this Earth.]

She sheepishly smiled, shifting from her squat like position to criss cross. Not caring that her dress was probably wiping the dusty floors of their roof. Samra passed her mother a slice of apple, munching on one herself. They sat in complete silence. Like the stillness of the air, they too refrained from any movement. Sweat trickled down their bare backs and the top of their heads seemed as if they would burn any given second. She ran her fingers through the wavy ends of her hair, brushing out the rose petals that had taken home in her hair during her bath.

The moments passed by one at a time. They were impossibly long and Samra felt as if she would pass away by the time she would be allowed inside her home. The sun began to set and as it hit the Earth at an angle, the heat dissolved a bit. Top half of the vast skies turning a light blue and white clouds streamlined in between. It was a sight to see, the divided roof on their heads. The lower half still a pale orange and dusky pink. The top one a light blue and some of it turning even darker. An eternity passed before they were allowed back into the comfort of their home. The walls a cool refuge from the burning world. A truth in itself.

Tucking the end of her drape into her skirt, Samra braided her hair. Adding in thin pins testing out her look for dinner. She along with her parents were going out for dinner, her father had taken special permission from the King and he had been eager to let him go for that night. Of course no one had told Samra the selfish reasons of King Zaid. He had agreed to keep Akbar and his family out of King Shah's sight. Now Samra was restlessly pacing through the small foyer of their home. A thin blouse covered her ample breast and the red tweed shoes were flat enough to be another layer of ground. Her heels ached already but the adrenaline from the excitement of being let out of the guarded walls over came everything.

"Samra what are you doing here?" Akbar questioned.

"Waiting on you. Let's go?" She replied.

"Of course. Call your mother and wear your shawl," he kissed the top of her head.

Nodding she ran into the bungalow and returned a short fifteen minutes later. Her mother following behind. Akbar held the two's hands and they slipped out of the palace. Their shoes smacked against the loose gravel. Samra's eyes widened as she took in the stalls that lined the curving streets of Loh. From the forted Palace they led into a market place. The market had lasted longer than her family's ascent to power.  One could find anything they desired in the overcrowded streets. From the lavish dishes that would only be found in the homes of nobles and merchants to plain lentils that were cooked in spice and butter — as good as the expensive meat ones.

It was during their dinner, which consisted of yellow lentils and bread cooked on an open fire, Akbar cleared his throat.

"Tomorrow there is going to be a royal bazaar. The maharani has invited you two as well. I'll leave you some money, so you should go. Samra I know tomorrow is your nineteenth birthday and I apologize for not being able to attend to you. I've been assigned the duty to help King Shah and his sons settle into their quarters," he informed.

"We have been allowed entry?" Yumna frowned.

"Im so excited to go!" Samra cheered, failing to realize the worried looks her parents were exchanging.

⚜️⚜️⚜️

General Fadahunsi trudged through the back of the guesthouse. He had failed to notice when he had walked out of their accommodation to the humongous gardens that were for the Royal family alone. Of course, no one would mind him strolling here. He had noticed the suggestive and hope filled look in the King's eye. Although, he pitied the man. Even-though their father was the King of one of the largest Empire's, he had made it clear that their weddings would not be on the basis of political propaganda. Which was probably also why his siblings were yet to marry aswell.

Walking through the cropped grass on his light feet he came across a curving cobblestone pathway. He skimmed the floor with his eye, kicking the loose stone off of the path and continued his nightly stroll. His arms were locked behind his back, the robe loosely tied. He had discarded the undershirt a long time ago, the heat inside their cluttered apartments had forced him to do it. His long hair had been taken out of the rubber grip, the naturally caramel hair with dark roots curled at the nape of his neck.

Too focused on his path as he walked out of the range of the candle lit lanterns that hung on charcoal iron wrought stands. In the inky blackness of the night, the stars his only guide he walked to the edge of the lavish palace. His mind busy in thoughts, constantly coming up with new strategies of building a strong army and a fortified palace for his sister, who was the prime victim of all attacks on their family. In the loud silence he heard nothing but the crickets chirp, and his feet shuffle around on the loose soil. He ran his fingers over the hard tree bark, ignoring the plentiful stories he had heard of ghosts and trees in the night.

The sounds of anklets and breathy laughter alarmed him. Alerted, he walked through the shrubs, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He could feel himself sweat at the ends of his neck, it was not fear, no. It was the fact that he had no idea of what lay in-front of him that invoked such a reaction.

"Who is there?" He called out as soon as he reached a clearing.

His eyes ran through the clearing surrounded by what seemed jasmine trees on all sides.

"You came here, you tell me who are you". The voice replied.

He could sense the faux confidence behind it, as the woman revealed herself slightly. Covered from head to toe in a thin black cloth, feline eyes stared at him. A white kitten in the woman's hands, it was Persian he realized. His lips set into a wide grin as the shy woman began to walk away with her cat held to her chest.

"I mean no harm. I'm General Fadahunsi, I accidentally stumbled across this place and heard you giggle," he cleared the air.

The short woman frowned and then stood with her shoulders pulled back, staring at him with full confidence.

"Okay General this is my place and you've invaded it," she spoke.

"I apologize. But I'd like to know the name of the person I owe my apology to," he bit his lower lip.

"You can utter that apology addressed to Samra Sanya Akbar".

Thus Fadahunsi pronounced his apology and walked out of the tiny haven of the tiny woman. A gentle smile on his face and a glint in his eyes — that even he had failed to notice.

• Translations •
Banarsi — a fabric

•••

So they meet.
Our boy Fadahunsi is smittern 😏