Al-Haitham sits in the bed. He uses a propped-up pillow to keep the wooden headboard from digging into his back. The blanket hardly covers his lower body, but the air is not so chilly that he feels the need to cover his legs completely. He holds a book in his lap. The contents of the book are negligible in the long run, just some random facts about interesting plants that grow across the continent. Al-Haitham doesn't strictly need to know about these plants, but he thought the book would be interesting. Additionally, he genuinely loves to read from physical books, feeling the weight in his palms and the crisp material of the parchment against his fingertips. Ever since his childhood, Al-Haitham would have a book somewhere near him to appease the boredom that frequently flits across the edges of his mind.

There is only one unique detail about this occasion compared to the rest. Well, a few details, but they all amount to the same conclusion. Al-Haitham is not reading in his personal chambers despite dawn having only begun moments prior. The candle he lit to read carries a faintly floral scent that eases his mind with each breath, and Al-Haitham only keeps scentless candles in his room. The blanket wrapped around him is lighter than his blanket is, but he doesn't particularly mind when an arm wraps loosely around his waist. Kaveh rests his head on a pillow, but his nose brushes against Al-Haitham's thigh. His entire body is close to Al-Haitham actually which is probably why Al-Haitham doesn't perceive the room as being cold. Kaveh must feel it is, even if he's unconscious, which is why he clings to the closest source of heat available to him. Al-Haitham could grow frustrated with the touch, but he can't blame Kaveh since Al-Haitham is reading in the blonde's room, in his bed, while any normal person would be asleep.

Al-Haitham rationalizes it with those words, anyway. Even if they were in Al-Haitham's chambers, he would have let Kaveh cling onto him in whatever way the blonde deemed fit. As he discovered fairly early on when Kaveh began trying to get a rise from Al-Haitham, he really didn't dislike physical touch when it was Kaveh. In fact, he would dare say he liked it. He sought it out, at the very least, though Al-Haitham is curious if Kaveh has realized this fact yet. If he hasn't, he is trying extremely hard to anger Al-Haitham. If he has realized, he is using Al-Haitham as a means of getting his affection quota for the day. Whatever the case, Al-Haitham is reaping the benefits so there really isn't a reason to explain to Kaveh what is factually happening. The blonde is smart enough to figure it out on his own eventually, if he hasn't already.

Kaveh mumbles in his sleep. He shifts his body, moving from his side to his back. He pulls his arm with him, untethering himself from Al-Haitham. To remedy this, Al-Haitham trades which hand is holding the spine of his book. He uses the back of his fingers to gently touch Kaveh's forehead. The touch shouldn't be firm enough to wake him up, but Kaveh's eyes flutter open a second later. Those carmine irises are hazy for a long moment. He must not recognize Al-Haitham immediately because a sleepy smile creeps onto his face. He looks just as peaceful as he did when he was unconscious. Al-Haitham's chest seizes with emotions, each one so familiar that he can hardly believe he ever despised this man leaning into his touch.

Al-Haitham expects Kaveh to suddenly come into full awareness and realize what they are doing. Although Kaveh has whispered once that he loves Al-Haitham back and left Al-Haitham a space in his bed every night, the morning always brings fragile regrets that Al-Haitham has to coax away from the forefront of Kaveh's mind. Al-Haitham wishes he could erase the anxiety, but it is not a one-step process. Al-Haitham has to keep working at it every day, and he knows that it will never truly disappear until he regains his memories and proves that his love for the blonde isn't a passing fancy. The love must prove to be more deeply rooted than the hate is, even if Al-Haitham doesn't understand where the hate could have come from in the first place.

Kaveh, always one to defy expectations, closes his eyes once more. He shifts his entire body, curling up into a ball with his head on Al-Haitham's thigh. It only takes a few seconds for his breathing to even out. Al-Haitham leaves his hand against Kaveh's forehead during the process. When the blonde has delved back into the realm of dreams, Al-Haitham moves his fingers up to the long blonde hair. He moves the strands as he pleases, looking back at the book in his hands. His eyes dart across the printed words and inked recreations of the plants' appearances, but his eyes stop when they catch on a specific flower.

Something clicks in his brain, a passageway lit up by a mere glance at the purple petals. It is more of a stagnant image than a genuine memory, but Al-Haitham has seen Kaveh wearing these flowers before. They were braided together like a crown and placed on the darkened roots of Kaveh's hair. Kaveh was smiling in this memory, more ebullient than he ever had within Haravatat estate's walls. His eyes, too, were as lustrous as freshly cut rubies. Al-Haitham can't figure out where they are standing. He thinks they are both relatively young in the image, but he doesn't know when the first time he met Kaveh was. Maybe this is that moment.

Al-Haitham shakes his head. It is only a picture in his head that he is partially certain is a true memory. It doesn't tell him much, and what it does tell him isn't worth anything. The only value this image provides Al-Haitham is a chance to remember a beautiful moment with Kaveh when the blonde seemed livelier and the contrasting thought that Al-Haitham might be starting to remember.

Al-Haitham leans his head back against the headboard. He frowns as he stares at the ceiling. He wants to remember. He wants answers. He needs to know what he's done to Kaveh so he can officially apologize. He needs to know why he would do something so cruel to someone he loves so deeply. But he also knows that remembering might hurt Kaveh more than anything else he has done. If Kaveh is convinced Al-Haitham will leave him again, would it be better to leave these memories in the forsaken corners of his mind? But if he remembers and treats Kaveh the same as he is doing now, wouldn't that alleviate some of Kaveh's worries?

Al-Haitham knows it won't happen, but he cannot pretend that the possibility of his memories returning in the same stroke his hatred for Kaveh does. Al-Haitham might not understand it now, but surely, there must be some logical reason for him to treat Kaveh so cruelly despite having all this love buried underneath. Al-Haitham simply doesn't know, and he doesn't want to hurt Kaveh any more than he already has.

Kaveh turns in his sleep again, nuzzling into Al-Haitham's thigh like a cat seeking comfort. Al-Haitham huffs a humorous breath as he continues moving his fingers through Kaveh's hair. He turns his attention to his book, hurriedly skipping over the page with the flower. He doesn't need to think about it too much right now. What will be, will be, and Al-Haitham will deal with the future rationally when it arrives.

—

Al-Haitham's parents died when he was very young. It was to the point that he hardly remembered them, and the few memories he did possess were fuzzy and uncoordinated. Everything he knows about his parents has been told to him by other people, so Al-Haitham is sure some of these memories he views as accurate are actually reconstructions his mind is passing off as true to appease the somberness that rushes through him when he remembers his missing parental figures.

Al-Haitham was raised by his grandmother. She was the matriarch of the Haravatat dukedom, so she was a strict and orderly woman. Her rough exterior was unable to hide the love she felt for her grandson, however, especially after her son's death. She wasn't the best at expressing this love, but Al-Haitham was an intelligent child. He understood that when his grandmother allowed him to read the precious books in her private study, it was because she trusted him. When his grandmother personally taught him while he sat in her lap, she was preparing him for the future because she cared about him. When she would linger in his rooms the only time he had gotten sick as a child, it was because she loved him. In a million little ways, his grandmother expressed her love for him without ever saying it, and in the same way, Al-Haitham showed his love for her in a way she would understand.

His grandmother's death was not unexpected. She was, after all, fairly old, and being a duchess was not an easy job by any stretch of the imagination. She took good care of herself, but death comes after everyone without remorse or mercy. For these reasons, Al-Haitham did not pray for his grandmother to suddenly gain immortality. He only hoped that death would not ravage her but instead gently take her hand and lead her to the eternal oasis. He would meet her again one day, he promised, as he watched the light leave her usually sharp eyes.

His aunt came to stay with him after that. She was his mother's sister, and she had been a frequent visitor since his birth. He knew his aunt. He cared about her, and she cared about him. It was nothing deeper than that, however. In most ways, it felt more like his aunt was an assistant rather than a family member. She helped him manage the Haravatat household. When he became the head of the household without any voices of dissent, she took on the responsibilities that the lady or lord of the house would have had if Al-Haitham were married.

This next part is something Al-Haitham cannot remember. He has only been able to look at the facts of the situation based on reports and the accounts of his servants and vassals. Even after Al-Haitham got married, his aunt continued to run the internal structure of the house. There was mention that Kaveh made a single attempt to receive his dues, but it was thwarted immediately. Al-Haitham kept his aunt from being ousted from the house, and the servants would never be loyal to someone from Rtawahist. Kaveh gave up immediately. The story ends there with only a few hiccups of Kaveh attempting to have a social life outside of the house that failed as spectacularly as his attempt at running the household did.

Al-Haitham didn't need anyone to tell him about that second part when he was there to witness Kaveh's panic at the royal palace. Al-Haitham hated watching it, but Kaveh didn't let the duke give some excuse to the royal family.

The other part, however, is something Al-Haitham was vaguely aware of when he realized how much free time Kaveh had. Before his memory loss, Kaveh spent most of his time painting in his room or sneaking out to drink alcohol as Pari in the nearby town. No one sought him out other than a few servants leaving dead birds and mice at his door. The bullying could have been worse, but Al-Haitham was still revolted hearing the reports. He was going to reprimand the servants, but his aunt promised him she would take care of it.

He stares at her now. She sits in the chair on the other side of his desk. She sits up straight with her ankles crossed and hands folded neatly in her lap. She seems extremely calm, but there is a faint tremble in her eyes that Al-Haitham recognizes. He doesn't understand it exactly. As far as he's aware, he has a good relationship with his aunt even if they don't have a strong familial bond. He raises an eyebrow to steady her nerves. She smiles politely at him. "Aunt Marana. What business have you come to see me about?"

"There is no business in particular. I only wanted to see how my nephew was holding up," Marana shifts in the chair. She is smiling again, but it doesn't reach her eyes in the way it should. She seems to be in a pleasant mood, but there is an undercurrent of anxiety that Al-Haitham cannot find the source. The people are entering a prosperous age, and the estate has been in higher spirits than usual due to the influx of people.

Al-Haitham doesn't quite remember what his home was like before his memory loss, but he knows it was dark and rather depressing. He didn't mind it back then, but he can safely conclude that he does not want to return to that time. While the noise can be annoying, if not overwhelming, at times, Al-Haitham enjoys having his friends from Akademiya with him. Additionally, the other people he has brought to the estate— Nilou, Faruzan, Layla— are worthy of being there. Nilou is good at serving Kaveh. Faruzan is intelligent despite a 100-year gap in her knowledge, and Al-Haitham never has a boring conversation with her— only a few tedious ones. And despite being from Rtawahist, Layla is a soft-hearted child who outshines everyone around her in her field of study, including the duke that Al-Haitham greatly dislikes.

"I am doing well," Al-Haitham tells his aunt without hesitation. More than anything, Al-Haitham's improved mood can be attributed to his husband. Even if everyone else were to leave the estate, Al-Haitham doesn't think he would mind too much if Kaveh remained with him. Especially now that he's getting Kaveh to start smiling. They aren't large smiles— nothing like the stagnant image in his head— but it is progress and Al-Haitham would be a fool to ignore what has been done in favor of what could be done.

"I am happy to hear it. You would not believe how worried I was when the soldiers brought you back," Marana puts a hand over her heart with a pained look crossing her face. Al-Haitham nods slowly. He vaguely remembers participating in a monster subjugation. There were snippets of people yelling around him underneath a blood-red sky, but Al-Haitham wasn't completely certain those weren't dreams. The next complete memory he has is waking up in a dark bed, and his eyes immediately landing on a handsome stranger who made his heart ache with both emotions and unknown scars. The many physicians who came to see him told him that there was nothing wrong with him. He didn't even hit his head. His memories were simply gone.

"My physician has cleared me of any lasting wounds. I am not expected to die from disease or injury in the near future. You may put your worries at ease," Al-Haitham tries reassuring his aunt. He doesn't know how well it works since he is only giving her half his attention. The other half is devoted to the many papers made into stacks across his desk. Al-Haitham is an efficient worker, though, so he doubts it will take him too long. It takes him even less time when he has something in the evening to look forward to like he does today.

"I know, Your Grace. I have privately spoken with all of them. I only worry about your memories. They have yet to return," Marana sighs. Her concern for him seems genuine, but something about this whole situation feels a little off. It has been some months since his accident. Most of his physicians have told him to give up on trying to remember his past. Tighnari even agreed with them. His aunt told him he forgot nothing important, so why in recent weeks has she been so keen on unlocking what might be forever lost?

"You are correct. My memories involving my husband have not returned. I suspect that they never will. I have given up on trying to return them, so you do not need to worry about that," Al-Haitham lies to his aunt about giving up, the words leaving his lips in a smoother fashion than he thought they would. While Al-Haitham knows that honesty does not realistically work in every situation, he doesn't think it would be so easy to lie to his aunt. Even if they aren't close, they are family. Al-Haitham used to be incapable of lying to his grandmother even when it was arguably the better solution. Is it just because of the type of person his grandmother was instead of being because of the relationship they had?

"I understand that it might be frustrating, but you really should keep trying to remember," Marana tells him earnestly.

"Why? Was it not you who told me that I had not forgotten anything important? Did you not inform me that I would be fine having completely forgotten about my relationship with Lord Kaveh?" Al-Haitham tears his eyes away from the paper in his hands to raise an eyebrow at his aunt. He observes her reaction. She is unsettled for a moment, but she is quick to school her features into an impassive expression.

"I wish for you to remember because you are attempting to grow close with that son of Rtawahist. I believe that even if your memories of him were gone, some part of you would remember what kind of person he is. My only intention is to protect you from what you do not currently understand," Marana's head tilts to the side as she puts both of her hands over her heart.

"What kind of person is he, then?"

"He is like every other Rtawahist. He is manipulative, cruel, and ominous. He will cause misfortune to befall this land after poisoning your heart. He has already begun the process," Marana's voice takes on a bitter edge. Her eyes flash with the same coldness she is accusing Kaveh of.

Al-Haitham laughs under his breath, startling his aunt. The only manipulation Kaveh can be accused of is touching Al-Haitham to get the duke to insult him (if not strike him, something Al-Haitham has been assured he's never done— one time by Kaveh, the blonde promising in the moonlight that Al-Haitham has only broken him down with words). Kaveh isn't cruel in the slightest. He is too kind for his own good, honestly. He isn't ominous, either. His presence alone makes Al-Haitham feel like he's bathing in sunlight, and nothing brings more fortune to him than Kaveh's quiet smiles and shimmering eyes. Other than causing misfortune to spread across the land (since neither of them does that), Marana's words more accurately describe Al-Haitham in the relationship than they do Kaveh.

"I am being serious, Your Grace. He has already begun tainting you—"

"I understand being concerned for your nephew, but you are taking this too far. Your words are plainly untrue. You would know as much if you gave Kaveh a chance instead of assuming he was like the duke," Al-Haitham silences his aunt swiftly. Since she desires all of his attention, he gives it to her in the form of a harsh glare. "Even if all of your words are true, I have gone through every document and report. The one who proposed this marriage was House Haravatat, not House Rtawahist. I was the one who wanted to marry Kaveh. Duke Rtawahist might have pushed for a sooner wedding, but I am the one who agreed to it. If Kaveh truly is trying to hurt the land and myself, why would I have willingly brought him here? Explain that to me, aunt."

"You were forced into this marriage for the sake of your people. The royal family was pressuring you to get married. The commoners were suffering from frequent monster attacks. You used this opportunity to free yourself from the burdens of the royal family and to help the common folk out using Rtawahist's soldiers," Marana explains to him, narrowing her eyes slightly the longer she listens to her nephew try to defend Kaveh.

"Surely, there were better options than that. I do not care what the royal family says or thinks about me. I would have taken care of the monsters myself, and if I really needed to, there are three other families I could have allied with instead of getting involved with Rtawahist. No one will tell me why, but I know that I must have wanted to marry Kaveh because I lo—"

Al-Haitham's eyes slowly open. He blinks warily as light painfully fills his pupils. His movements feel sluggish and disconnected from the rest of him, but he brings an arm to throw over his face. The darkness gives him the opportunity to adjust to the light. As his eyes adjust, he realizes belatedly that someone is talking to him. His vision slides to the side until he sees a teal-haired woman standing right next to his chair. As the blurriness clears, he recognizes Faruzan lightly shaking his arm. She is frowning at him, multi-colored eyes shimmering with concern. "Are you conscious now, Your Grace?"

"What happened?" Al-Haitham asks. He removes his arm from his face. He looks around his office. Marana is no longer in the room with him. There is a half-finished paper on his desk. It is the same one he was working on while talking to his aunt. There is light filtering into the office from the nearby window, implying that it is early afternoon. It doesn't make sense because he was talking to his aunt during the late morning. He must have been out of it for a few hours, but if that were the case, why didn't his aunt call for a physician if he... what? Passed out while talking to her? Lost his mind for a short while?

"I am afraid I do not know. I came into your office to ask about using the training grounds, but you were... Well, it looked as if you were asleep, but your skin was extremely pale. When you first woke up, your eyes were red, too. It took a minute to wake you up," Faruzan explains to him. She releases his arm. She walks around the side of the desk to the other side. She glances around the office, intent on finding a culprit when Al-Haitham doubts there is one. Falling asleep while talking to someone is unusual for him. His eyes being red and his aunt not seeming concerned is nigh impossible. But the probabilities aligned, and Al-Haitham— for reasons he doesn't understand— was unconscious with momentarily red eyes and his aunt disappeared in the meanwhile. "Might I ask what your last conscious memory is?"

"I was arguing with my aunt about my marriage with Kaveh," Al-Haitham tells her. He pushes his palms against his desk. He rises onto his feet with a deep breath. His body feels a tad like mush, but he forces himself to walk across the room. He isn't looking for clues; he is trying to fully wake his body up after his impromptu nap.

"I have been curious about that. Back in my time, Rtawahist was not treated with such prejudice. Then again, during my time, Kshahrewar was one of the six darshans," Faruzan sits in the chair his aunt was sitting in what must have been a few hours ago even though it only feels like a few moments ago to Al-Haitham. Faruzan raises an eyebrow at him. "I deserve some explanation, especially after I had to reassure my ward and your husband that they would not be killed simply for sharing blood with the duke. In fact, Lord Kaveh's case is stranger since he was adopted."

Al-Haitham sinks into his desk chair. He picks his quill up, but he has trouble ignoring Faruzan. He looks right into her eyes as he speaks. "Yes, you deserve at least that much. It began many years ago when the royal family and Rtawahist worked together to dispose of Kshahrewar. Many of the family members were slaughtered. Only one or two branch families escaped persecution. With their refusal to fight against their oppressors, the lands once belonging to Kshahrewar were divided between the royal family and Rtawahist. The royal family turned their portion into another vacation palace. On the other hand, Rtwahist was cruel to the people they acquired in the deal. Rtwahists became known for their tyranny, but the royal family secretly supported them as long as their cruel actions did not undermine the royal authority. The other houses are unable to stop Rtwahist since it has gained so much power. All we can do is deal with its many decisions, especially those of the current duke. He is smarter than his predecessors, but he is also far more greedy. He has committed many sins, yet no one can convict him for anything. I do not presently know why he adopted Kaveh. It must have been because I believe my interest in Kaveh predates his adoption into the family. He wanted an in with House Haravatat, and now that he has gotten it through my marriage with Kaveh, the people of Haravatat are anxious about what the duke might do. They satiate their emotions by indiscriminately hating anyone from Rtawahist, including Kaveh and Layla."

"How foolish. It is as though everyone in this country has gone mad in the last hundred years," Faruzan huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. She eyes Al-Haitham suspiciously. "Were you part of those who indiscriminately hated Rtwahist?"

"I am not certain. I cannot remember anything from my time with Kaveh. I had an accident a few months ago that took away my memories of him. I have been unable to get any of them back except for an image of Kaveh wearing a flower crown and smiling," Al-Haitham's honesty with Faruzan surprises him. They are too many generations apart for anyone to expect a realistic familial relationship between them, but Al-Haitham feels like he is in the presence of his grandmother again. Or, well, a grandmother, since Faruzan only has a handful of similarities with his grandmother.

"Memories again... You are beginning to forget select portions of your life. We need to discover the common variable between your accident and what happened in your office. I say this, but of course, you are going to take a rest," Faruzan twirls her hair with her finger as she begins thinking.

"I have work to do—"

"You should not argue with your seniors. You have experienced a sudden gap in your memory, and when you were discovered, you looked sickly. It would be better for you to rest for the time being. I will handle any pressing matters as an elder of the house. I will also begin conducting an investigation into your memories. Is there anything I should know before I have the guards escort you to your chambers?" Faruzan asks, standing in front of her chair. She puts her hands on her hips. She isn't particularly imposing, but Al-Haitham feels the same authority from her that he felt from his grandmother.

Al-Haitham considers his words carefully. There is only one moment that comes to mind. "When I went to the royal palace with Kaveh the other day, he fell unconscious. As I was carrying him back to the carriage, I met a little girl in the hallway with white hair and green eyes. She asked me if I was doing as I desired. I didn't understand what she meant. She told me that she was almost finished. Everything, including my memories, would be returned to me when she was done. She ran around the corner before I could ask her anything else. I looked for her, but she wasn't around anymore as if she disappeared."

"Interesting. It could have been an envoy of the goddess of wisdom... but why would she interfere in this matter?" Faruzan murmurs to herself. Al-Haitham doesn't mention that the little girl felt familiar. For a brief moment, while staring at her, Al-Haitham was certain he was going to remember everything. If she remained in his presence for a moment longer, all the memories would have come flooding back to him. "Now, do I need to call for the guards, or will you be a good youngling and return to your chambers?"

"I will rest," Al-Haitham nods. She smiles at him, returning the nod. Al-Haitham leaves Faruzan alone in his office. He worries for a moment about leaving someone he only met recently to handle the private matters of Haravatat, but he pushes that worry away. Faruzan was once going to be the duchess, so she knows how to do the work. She also seems keen on helping Haravatat prosper. She loves this place even if she was removed from it for a long time.

And, though he doesn't admit this aloud, he trusts her.

—

While Al-Haitham swore to rest, he didn't strictly say he would go to his chambers. He makes the quick walk to Kaveh's chambers. He crosses paths with Nilou. She gives him a friendly smile, mentioning that she's going to prepare some tea. She asks if Al-Haitham will want some, too, and Al-Haitham confirms it. Nilou bows to him, and she hurries off to follow her master's orders.

Al-Haitham steps into Kaveh's chambers. The blonde is sitting on the couch with a book open in his lap. He glances up from the pages to meet Al-Haitham's eyes. He wears a faint smile. Al-Haitham returns the smile. He takes a step forward to join Kaveh.

A sudden flash of pain strikes Al-Haitham's head like a hammer hitting a metal sheet. Al-Haitham grits his teeth. He reaches his fingers to massage his forehead. Someone has set his body on fire, and the main source of the pain is within the confines of his skull. His vision darkens, and he stops breathing for a second. The pain subsides enough for him to start seeing the colors in front of him. He heaves a deep breath, trying to steady the heart in his blistering chest.

Someone is standing in front of him. Al-Haitham glares at them, something dark and poisonous rising in his throat. The person stumbles away from him. Al-Haitham blinks at them. His vision clears enough for him to remember who he's looking at. Al-Haitham flounders, trying to cover his eyes. His breathing is rough, and Kaveh's breathing is shaky. Al-Haitham feels regret, but more of that negative emotion lingers in his soul, intensifying his headache. Al-Haitham takes in a ragged breath. He looks between his fingertips at Kaveh's half-concerned, half-scared expression. Two drastic emotions war in Al-Haitham's heart, but the love he feels for Kaveh wins in the end. "Sorry. I just have a headache. I didn't mean to..."

He didn't mean to... what? Glare at Kaveh? Feel something sick and mean for a moment? Forget who his husband was? It was an odd experience. Al-Haitham hopes he never has to go through that again. Looking back on the brief moment, he already knows that he doesn't like it. He especially hates the expression lingering at the edges of Kaveh's face.

"You can... um, well... come over here for a moment," Kaveh murmurs, sinking onto the couch on unsteady legs. Al-Haitham's movements are slow and heavy as he comes to stand in front of Kaveh. The blonde avoids eye contact as he tugs on Al-Haitham's wrist. The gray-haired man sits on the couch. He gives Kaveh complete control over his body, and Kaveh puts Al-Haitham's head on his lap. Kaveh puts one hand over Al-Haitham's eyes to protect him from the light. He uses the other to gently scratch Al-Haitham's scalp. In a few motions, Al-Haitham's headache— and all the bristling cruelty inside of him— disappears, leaving Al-Haitham exhausted and guilty.

He would say something, but he was asleep before he could think about the right words to say.

—

Al-Haitham sits on the edge of the bed. Tighnari scrutinizes him with narrowed eyes. The entire space is completely silent. Al-Haitham meets Tighnari's eyes, and the Foxian's tail sways gently as he comes to a conclusion. This conclusion is not a happy one considering the immutable frown on his pale face. "And these headaches are becoming more frequent?"

"Yes," Al-Haitham answers. It has been two weeks since Al-Haitham began experiencing these painful headaches in Kaveh's presence. They are beginning to last longer, and the effects are growing more permanent. Even now, Al-Haitham feels a small sprouting of hatred blooming in his chest at the thought of the blonde. The rest of his body rejects this notion viscerally. This intense reaction within his body is bleeding into the rest of his days. He feels agitated and exhausted all the time. The worst part is that Al-Haitham has been distancing himself from Kaveh. He told the blonde a few half-truths about the situation, but he knows Kaveh thinks Al-Haitham's memories are coming back.

And maybe they are. Maybe the emotions associated with the memories are filling his body before the memories themselves do. Al-Haitham doesn't understand it all, though, which is why he's come to Tighnari without telling anyone about it. While everyone in the estate knows about his headaches, Tighnari is the only one aware of the emotions that come hurtling into his chest each time these headaches flare.

Tighnari hums. They have been trying to solve these headaches for a week now. None of Tighnari's usual remedies are working. Even the pain relievers are doing nothing to offset some of the mental turmoil Al-Haitham is going through. This has led Tighnari to believe that the effects are not born from an illness or disease. The only other option, then, is magic, but Tighnari can't find any traces of that, either. There is only one other kind of magic it could potentially be, but no one in the palace practices dark magic. Al-Haitham, especially, wouldn't indulge in the forbidden practices since he barely likes regular magic as it is.

"Are you certain there are no other symptoms you can tell me about? Is there anything that appears in your environment every time you get a headache?" Tighnari asks. As someone who cares about Al-Haitham and Kaveh, he is eager to heal Al-Haitham. As a proficient doctor, he is also someone who greatly dislikes when there is something he cannot heal.

"Nothing that I am aware of. I thought Kaveh might have been the common factor, but I've continued experiencing these headaches even while I have been avoiding him," Al-Haitham responds. Tighnari's tail flicks like a dancing flame. In other circumstances, Al-Haitham might have teased Tighnari about him caring more for Kaveh than he cares for Al-Haitham, but the urge disappears before even an exhale can leave his lips.

"We can try—"

The door slams open. Tighnari's entire body startles as he whips around. Al-Haitham frowns with displeasure. Nilou stumbles into the room with wide eyes and a heaving chest. She points at the wall—perhaps intending to point beyond it— as she regains her breath. When she does, words spill out of her in a quick rush. "Lady Haravatat put Collei in the dungeon. Lord Kaveh is arguing with her about it in the foyer while Sir Cyno tries to free her."

Tighnari rushes out of the room like a fox hearing a hunter's rifle. Al-Haitham isn't that far behind him. He hears Nilou behind him. Tighnari turns down a hallway, trying to rescue Collei and Cyno. Al-Haitham passes that hallway. His attention focuses on Kaveh and his aunt as they stand in the foyer. Kaveh finishes saying something. Al-Haitham doesn't catch it as he hears a strange noise punctuate the air. His eyes are the last to register that Marana has slapped Kaveh. His legs, decidedly, are not, as he is standing between his aunt and husband in a matter of seconds. Kaveh's eyes widen as they glance up at Al-Haitham. Nilou wraps her hands around Kaveh's shoulders, pulling him further away from the scene.

"What are you doing?" Al-Haitham demands. His words are harsh enough that the gathered crowd of servants stumble back, a few of them darting away into the various hallways to escape his judgment. Others are braver, wishing to see the argument between aunt and nephew.

Marana brings her hand to her chest, flexing her fingers like she's the hurt one. She glares at Kaveh behind Al-Haitham. She refuses to meet Al-Haitham's eyes, but she speaks in defense of herself. "I am disciplining him."

"You just slapped Lord Kaveh, my husband, so I'm going to need a better excuse than that," Al-Haitham's voice is cold, almost emotionless, but his eyes are a teal-and-orange flame threatening to burn the entire estate to the ground.

"It's fine—" Kaveh reaches to grab Al-Haitham's arm. His touch is hesitant, and his eyes water with either fear of pain. The expression on his face makes Al-Haitham want to hold him close, promising not to let the world hurt him again. Another, more sinister part of Al-Haitham that stabs into his flesh like an external knife, thinks Kaveh is pathetic, and Al-Haitham hates himself in this moment far more than he hates Kaveh. He might not understand why his emotions are doing this, but he needs to find a solution quickly.

"It isn't fine, Kaveh," Al-Haitham whispers back. He moves his fingers to hover over Kaveh's reddened cheek. He doesn't touch it, though, only watches Kaveh's carmine eyes contemplate what that hand might do. Al-Haitham brings his arm to his side, turning his glare back to his aunt. "She has imprisoned my physician's apprentice without my impression, and she slapped Lord Haravatat. Neither is acceptable behavior, even for an elder of the house. I will give you one opportunity to explain yourself, so I advise you to think long and hard about what you are going to say as it is the only chance you will get."

"That girl was spreading rumors throughout the household. Her tongue would have caused avoidable chaos for no reason other than her own misunderstandings," Marana answers, allowing herself only a second or two to think. Al-Haitham narrows his eyes. Marana presses onward, finally meeting his eyes. "I was doing my duty as a member of this household."

"And you slapped Kaveh because it is your duty?"

"I will admit it was a hasty decision, but it was a necessary one. I cannot fathom how you do not understand the evils of that family. Even an adopted member will be poisoned by that filth. I cannot stand by while you throw away your life and this household to side with that—"

"As an elder of the house, you should not curse in front of the children," A voice comes from the hallway behind Marana. Everyone's attention shifts to Faruzan. Layla stands beside the woman. She is breathing shallowly from anxiety, but she doesn't back down even when everyone looks at her and the teal-haired woman beside her. Faruzan beckons Layla to follow alongside her as they cross the foyer. Faruzan waves a packet of papers in the air. Marana's eyes widen minutely, and a victorious grin spreads across Faruzan's face. Layla seems a little surer of herself as she nods at Al-Haitham. He raises an eyebrow at them. Faruzan sets the folder into his hands, slapping away Marana's reaching hands. Faruzan taps the folder as she addresses Marana. "You should not lie to them, either. For as much as you complain about Rtwahist, you sure do a lot of business with them. Not the most savory kind, might I add. I'm of the opinion that if you hate someone, you should avoid them, but it seems our esteemed lady has a different tactic."

Faruzan's words carry some weight as Al-Haitham flips through the papers. He doesn't read the whole thing, but even his cursory skimming reveals that his aunt has been negotiating with Rtwahist about acquiring land and mines. There is even a section detailing the slaves she has bought, and Al-Haitham's fingers tighten on the papers. Slavery has been abolished in Sumeru for hundreds of years, but it lingers in some places. He never thought his aunt would be helping perpetuate it.

"And w-we know why you put Collei in the dungeon. It wasn't because she was spreading rumors. It was because she was telling the truth," Layla interrupts, drawing attention to her. She wrings her hands, but she doesn't stop talking. "I double-checked it using your constellation. Collei was right."

"About what?" Al-Haitham asks at the same moment Marana flounders, "What could that child possibly know?"

"I'm not a fool. I wouldn't lie about someone using dark magic," Collei calls out as Cyno and Tighnari escort her out of the hallway Al-Haitham, Nilou, and Tighnari came from originally. She is covered in dirt and dust, but she doesn't seem to be hurt as she points her finger between Marana and Al-Haitham. "I knew you were trying to keep me away from Duke Haravatat on purpose. You must have done your research."

"What?" Al-Haitham blinks, looking around. Nilou hugs Kaveh tighter, and the blonde's eyes are wide as he tries half-heartedly to reach out for Collei. The green-haired girl is stuck glaring at Marana, so she doesn't notice Kaveh's concern. Tighnari does, stepping over to help Nilou keep the blonde from wandering around. Cyno stands behind Collei, in a silent vigil with dark eyes threatening violence against Marana. Faruzan's eyes widen as she stares at Al-Haitham. Layla shuffles closer to Collei since they must have realized the same truth. The other servants in the foyer whisper amongst themselves, and Marana glares at them to silence their quiet musings.

"There is a lot of dark magic surrounding you, Duke Haravatat. I was kept away from you because I can sense it, remember?" Collei glances at him. Al-Haitham does partially remember. Tighnari mentioned it once when Al-Haitham asked where he got his apprentice from. Collei was experimented on using dark magic. These tiresome years spent writhing with pain honed her ability to sense dark magic, no matter what form it took. She doesn't get to use this ability often since dark magic is forbidden— and for good reason— but Marana must have known about it.

"And I know it was your aunt who was putting the dark magic on you. It's a bunch of astrological calculations, but I can say that the alpha star in her constellation is growing dimmer. This means she's been using dark magic. If she's using dark magic and you are covered in it..." Layla trails off, waving her hands around as she tries to explain herself without over-explaining. While it's true that someone else could be responsible for the dark magic around Al-Haitham, it is highly unlikely.

Al-Haitham steps toward the woman he once considered his aunt. He puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing firmly. She flinches but refuses to show how much pain she's in. Al-Haitham looks directly into her eyes. His voice is nearly inaudible as he asks, "Why? What did you do to me?"

Marana refuses to speak. Al-Haitham is not above resorting to over means to get answers, but he feels a hand around his wrist. He glances to the side. Cyno is shaking his head. He nods his chin over at the people behind Al-Haitham— namely, Kaveh, Nilou, Collei, and Layla. Al-Haitham removes his hand from his aunt's body. Cyno takes his place immediately. He escorts Marana to the dungeon. She glares at everyone from over her shoulder. Al-Haitham watches her go, wondering what happened to his aunt.

Tighnari starts pushing Al-Haitham. "We need to immediately purify you. Any amount of dark magic is bad, but it's been affecting you for two weeks. If not longer. Collei?"

"On it, Master Tighnari!" Collei salutes her teacher as she rushes to the medicinal room. Al-Haitham wants to deal with his aunt personally or talk to Kaveh, but he knows how terrible dark magic is. He just exhales out of his nose. He lets Tighnari push him onward, making eye contact with Kaveh for a long moment. The blonde's lips part, but he doesn't say anything as he looks away, focusing on Nilou trying to assess his cheek.

—

His childhood was filled with many books. While his grandmother enjoyed nonfiction more than the alternative, she had a few fictional stories that Al-Haitham had read at least thrice each. One of these stories spoke about the jinn from the desert. They were spirits born from water lilies with otherworldly beauty and intelligent minds. It wasn't Al-Haitham's favorite story. It wasn't even his favorite among the fictional ones. But he liked it well enough. He liked it enough that he remembered the description of the jinn as he set his eyes upon one.

Of course, the man is not actually a jinn. They do not exist. If they did, they went extinct a long time ago. But Al-Haitham feels a strange lapse in his rationality as he meets a pair of carmine eyes. Hair as golden as the sun frames a face carved by the goddess herself. The jinn wears a luminous smile that lights up the dimly lit street, and he wears a crown made from padisarahs, the closest shade to vivid purple they have ever been. There is a split second when the jinn looks at him, and for the first time since he's read that fairytale book, he realizes why mortals fell in love with these supernatural beings with only one look at them.

The jinn speaks to him. His voice is like the jingling of silver bells and the serenades of the nightingales. The words blossom like blood-red roses, but they cannot compare to the twinkling in his eyes. The jinn reaches out to him, decorating his silver hair with flowers. The jinn tells him in the quiet street of the early morning to call him 'Kaveh,' and like the fool he has become, he tells the jinn to call him 'Al-Haitham.'

—

Al-Haitham's eyes slowly open. The memory is fresh on his mind, but so are thousands of other memories that make him want to vomit. He remembers now. He first met Kaveh in the streets. He fell in love at first sight. He wanted to marry Kaveh, but it seemed like Azar found Kaveh before Al-Haitham could. Al-Haitham settled for marrying the adopted son of Rtwahist, but the memories get fuzzier from there. Al-Haitham assumes this is when his aunt started using dark magic on him.

"You could have died," A voice remarks to him. He blinks warily, but he relaxes when he recognizes the white hair and green eyes of the child sitting on the bed beside him. He remembers her now, too. After fighting monsters, he met this child in the forest. She showed concern for him, claiming that he was cursed with dark magic. He gave her permission to take his memories in exchange for her returning them after she purified them. It seems she did, which is why he can remember his first meeting with Kaveh... and every other occasion with the blonde. She smiles grimly at him. "I did the best I could to purify the memories. They might still be a bit hazy, but there are consequences to using dark magic even if you don't want to be influenced by it."

"Thank you," Al-Haitham tells her.

She puts a hand over his face. Darkness fills his vision. Her words echo in his mind even as he's already fallen asleep. "You don't need to thank me. Protecting the people of Sumeru is my duty. And right now, your duty is to rest longer. I can guarantee only sweet dreams will find you."

—

When he opens his eyes again, Kaveh is standing at his bedside. Kaveh's fists clench the blanket covering Al-Haitham. His eyes firmly glare at the air in front of him, but he doesn't seem to be aware of himself. Al-Haitham shifts, and Kaveh flinches. He tries to dart away, but Al-Haitham grabs his wrist, reminding himself of the last time he woke up after an accident. "Please, stay."

Kaveh sighs. He stops moving, but he's still facing away from Al-Haitham towards the door. Al-Haitham swings his legs over the side of the bed. He sits up, pulling Kaveh's wrist against his chest. Kaveh refuses to look at him. Al-Haitham exhales out of his nose. "I remember everything now. I know how I treated you now. I know why I did it, too. I would like to formally apologize. I—"

"Don't."

"Kaveh, I—"

"Just don't!" Kaveh yells, whirling around to look into Al-Haitham's eyes. His carmine eyes are filled with tears. Al-Haitham's heart drops. He wants to wipe the tears away, but Kaveh is glaring at him. "You don't have to apologize. It wasn't your fault, after all."

"Kaveh—"

"It's not fair." The tears come bubbling over. They slide across his cheeks. Kaveh doesn't wipe them away, but this seems to be more of an attempt to ignore them than anything else. He looks angrier now that he's crying, and Al-Haitham wishes he could say all that anger is directed outwards, but he knows it isn't. He knows it in the way Kaveh refuses to look him in the eyes, staring at the way Al-Haitham cradles his wrist. "I went through... all of that suffering. You hated me, and I made myself hate you. I gave up on everything. I wasted so much time pretending to be fine and trying to find a reason to live and then... Then, you were kind. You were kind, and the others were, too, and I thought for a while that maybe I was going to turn out alright. But then you started avoiding me again, so I told myself to resent you. I told myself not to expect anything anymore. But it doesn't matter. Because it's not your fault."

Kaveh exhales shakily. His entire body is shaking. The tears stream down his face faster than before. "It's not your fault. I should get over it. I shouldn't hate you for something you couldn't control. I shouldn't hate anyone for being cruel to me because they were just following her orders. I should just—"

Kaveh stops talking. It doesn't seem like he wants to stop, but he just gives up mid-sentence. He hiccups quietly to himself. Al-Haitham bows his head. "You're right. It isn't fair. The reasoning doesn't matter. You still went through unimaginable pain. I know my apologies won't do anything to help you, and I know that I'm in no position to ask for any favors. But if you are going to hate anyone, hate me. Hate Marana. Hate this house. Do not hate yourself, not anymore."

Al-Haitham looks at Kaveh, right in the eyes with a bittersweet smile. "I won't make you stay here. If you want to leave, I will do everything in my power to assist you. I will let any of the others follow you. But if you can, I would like you to stay, even if it's just because you want to make me suffer for what I've done in person."

"I do hate you. I resent you for everything you've done to me and everything you haven't," Kaveh whispers. Al-Haitham's expression doesn't fall since he expected as much, but his eyes do widen slightly when Kaveh puts his forehead against his shoulder. "But I've also loved you for a long, long time. Foolishly, I still do. So, I'm going to stay here, and I'm going to keep hating and loving you, and this time, you are going to treat me right no matter what I do."

"If my love says it, then it must be true."

Kaveh cries into his shoulder for a while longer. After some time, Al-Haitham is given permission to hold Kaveh. The blonde sinks into him, forcing him to hold up his entire weight. Al-Haitam imagines this is the first of many punishments Kaveh will have for him over the years, but he doesn't mind in the slightest. He would carry Kaveh from anywhere to anywhere. And he'll love him all the while.