I'm going to die of love for you.

— Marguerite Duras

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Her

She waits for him until he finishes his morning prayers. He smiles as he notices her waiting when he's done. She smiles back and he folds the prayers mat before making his way towards her. They go to sit at the breakfast table together.

"What do you ask God for in your prayers?" she asks him, always been curious given the length of his prayers. How he always takes his time.

He lifts a slice of apple to her mouth. She takes a bite of it and he takes one after her. He replies to her query a moment later.

"Let it be between me and my Lord, habibti."

She doesn't protest and let him keep his secret. "Well, I hope I'm a part of them."

He leans down and kisses her forehead. "They'll be incomplete without you, zawjati."

When he leaves that morning and she returns to their chamber after a stroll, a note awaits her on her pillow.

They want to kill him.

Him

He pets the mane of his horse. It blows and turns its head towards him. Adam smiles and takes its bridle, leading it out of its stall in the stable.

The dawn has cracked and the air is still. The sky is clear and some of the darkness still hangs around it. The palace is quiet right to his taste. He takes his horse outside where Zahir is already waiting for him.

"My Ameer, shall we leave?"

"We shall, Zahir."

Pulling the hood of his cloak over his head and a cloth over his face to conceal it, he mounts his horse. Zahir follows after him, mounting his own. With a snap of the reins, they leave the palace grounds and make their way to the city.

He directs them to the location sent to him in the letter. He hopes everything goes as he has planned. And if it does, it'll smoothen the path for him to victory. Otherwise he'll have to find an alternative which might prove difficult, given how there are people against him and those who might betray him. Loyalty in the royal court is a fickle thing, and a blessing if one truly has it in his subjects.

But he has come prepared to meet his guest. He knows there's a price for everything. He knows he'll be asked to pay one too. And he's willing to do so. For he knows the price for losing the throne is much greater to consider. Not for himself alone, but for his wife and his subjects who so far have stayed true to him. He strives for them as much as he does for his own self. He's unwilling to leave loose ends.

He tugs the reins and the horse halts at the corner of a street. Adam dismounts it and so does Zahir. They tie them to a nearby tree.

The street is deserted and they walk ahead up to an intersection where there is a baker's shop. He looks around, searching for the man they're here for. Zahir comes beside him.

"You think he will come, sayidi?"

Adam nods at him. "Let us wait for him. I don't think he'll betray his words."

"You touched me with your faith in me, Ameer Adam," a third party intervenes. "I thought I was a vulture to you. I didn't know you meant it as a compliment."

He turns around and finds a man walking towards him. Adam doesn't need him to take off his mask to recognize him. It's his cutting tone, same as he remembered from the last time, as if he has a death wish, provoking him every time with his sharp remarks, as if asking him to show him how sharper a sword can be than his words. But every time Adam has spared him, not for him but for the services of his father to his family. Not to mention him saving his life and the life of his wife, making him indebted to him. And now they're here again hoping this man will prove to be useful once more.

"Muawwiz," Adam says his name and Muawwiz removes his mask, tipping his head slightly. "I see you still like to play with the fire."

"Everyone who ever served Al Shafay played with the fire, sayidi," he replies.

"You wouldn't have had you known it was me."

"Probably," he admits, then tips his head at Zahir. "Not everyone can be as faithful as Ameer Zahir."

"You humble me, Muawwiz," Zahir bites back.

Muawwiz only smirks before turning his attention back to Adam. "Ameer Zakariya sends his greetings to you."

"Thank him for me and take my greetings to him as well. I hope he's in good health."

Muawwiz only nods. "So, to what do I owe the honor of being invited in your company, sayidi?"

"Let us sit somewhere before I discuss it with you."

They find a teahouse nearby and take a table. The owner serves them tea and customarily he accepts despite having breakfast with his wife. Muawwiz takes a sip from his cup though his gaze remains on him, awaiting and interested to whatever he has him here for. Adam places a forearm on the table and leans forward.

"I won't give you a preliminary introduction and waste time," he begins. "You had the command of royal army during Yusuf's reign, and you kept your rank during my reign. As a commander of royal army, you had a great number of soldiers under your authority, enough to compete Eskander's. Many of them still have their loyalties towards you. So I want you to join forces with my army and be on my side if a need arises."

Muawwiz puts down his cup, leaning forward as well. "I'm not a commander anymore, Ameer Adam. I don't have any army."

"I know. But you still have some soldiers, don't you?"

"I'm afraid they're not enough to compete Eskander this time."

"Even a bunch will count, Muawwiz, unless Eskander has your heart trembling too," Adam mocks, the corner of his mouth twitching up.

Muawwiz scowls, fisting his hand. "You know better than anyone that I never trembled before anyone. Not even Khalifa Al Shafay."

Adam chuckles darkly, letting his eyes sweep lazily over him before taking a sip of his tea in leisure.

"You know better than anyone that it changed once you learnt who was Khalifa Al Shafay," Adam reminds him, pausing to take another sip. "If Al Shafay was beheading people for running their mouths unnecessarily, yours would've been the first head to fall."

He scoffs. "I don't--"

"It can still be, Muawwiz, so be careful of what comes out of your mouth next." Adam puts his cup down, the curve of his lips straightening and his voice dropping a deadly notch. "I'm here for business. You benefit me, I benefit you. Spare me of the nonsense."

Zahir shifts besides him, sensing the change in the mood. Muawwiz gets the hint and sits attentively, giving him a stiff nod.

"So, why should I help you against Al Hadi? How does the benefit outweighs the risk?" he inquires.

"I will provide you with gold and soldiers. Train them to their best. We've got about a year until my truce with Sulaiman ends," Adam explains. "You can buy war prisoners, mercenaries, and recruit soldiers for yourself with the gold I provide you. My officials or I cannot do so under our names, but you can since you've not pledged your alliance to anyone so you will not be suspected. Grow an army. I want someone daring and cunning enough to compete Eskander."

"And you thought me to be the best for the job?" Muawwiz presses rather than asks, pride lacing his voice.

"We wouldn't be here if I thought you weren't fit for it," Adam gives him the satisfaction, noticing his orbs glinting in it. "But you've a history with him and I think you know him the best. He might be a brave and skillful fighter, but in the battlefield, victory doesn't depend upon one man alone. He's a clever strategist and his army relies greatly on his plans. I need someone who knows his tricks and can counter any strategies he makes against us."

"Interesting, sayidi." Muawwiz leans back, easing once more. "I thought since he's your brother-in-law now, things might have changed."

"Those are my personal matters and no one is allowed to speak about them," he declares, drawing their boundaries clear. "Mind you, I don't want him dead. Any attempts from you on his life will only work in your disadvantage."

"There's no fun in that."

"You're not in a circus. It goes as I say."

The man before him sobers at his reply, seemingly pondering over the offer laid before him.

"Fine, say I agree, what do I get if I help you reclaim the throne?"

Adam smiles. Finally they're going in the direction of his fancy.

"What do you ask of me?"

Muawwiz smirks slyly, looking between him and Zahir before putting forth his demand.

"I want you to make me the general of Baghdad."

"Taha will remain my general, but I can give you something more than that," Adam suggests instead.

"What?" Muawwiz asks with interest.

"I will make you the governor of Qahira. You can appoint your own general for your army there, or you can be the general yourself. You'll have the privilege to rule a land your father once served for my father."

His eyes widen, clearly taken aback and not expecting to be offered this much. Muawwiz blinks, studying him as if trying to detect a lying behind his words. But when Adam keeps his expression stoic, allowing him to take his time, he eventually breaks in an amused grin.

"You will give me the governorship of Qahira, Ameer Adam?"

"I will," he confirms.

"How do I believe that you'll keep your claim?" Muawwiz challenges. "It's the land your father ruled, and you ruled. I know it's dear to you, and I know I'm not."

Adam turns to Zahir who produces a scroll from his belt and pushes it across the table to Muawwiz. He takes it and unrolls it, giving them a skeptical look before reading it.

"It's a pact between you and me," Adam tells him. "It states that if I become the Khalifa again, I'll give you the governorship of Qahira. It already has my stamp on it. If you put your stamp on it, it'll seal the agreement between us. Then this shall be enough to assure you and you can keep it with yourself as a proof."

Muawwiz takes his time reading it, and when he's contented with it, he puts it down and smiles gladly.

"Well then, I agree to your conditions and I'm ready to pledge my alliance to you."

Zahir presents to him an ink pad and Adam gestures towards it.

"Stamp the agreement with your name, Muawwiz."

He let out a short laugh and does as he's asked to do, pulling out his stamp and stamping the agreement with it.

"You came prepared, sayidi," he says, rolling the scroll back. "You were so sure I would agree."

"Don't think I was unaware of the needs of my subjects as Al Shafay." Adam mirrors his twisted smile. "I know there were two things you wanted when you were the commander under my reign-- either to be the general of Baghdad or to rule Qahira. I can't give you the rank of the general, that is for Taha, but I know how much governorship means to you-- to be the ruler of the land your father was a servant to. I'm willing to help you achieve your desire as long as you serve me sincerely."

Muawwiz doesn't reply, only stares at him. Adam can see the raw emotions in his eyes, as if left bare before him. As if his weakness has been found.

Producing a pouch of gold, he puts it on the table for the shop owner before standing up. Zahir gets to his feet too beside him.

"I'll trust you, Muawwiz. Betray my trust and I'll forget you ever saved my life." He walks around the table towards him and Muawwiz looks up at him. Adam gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Keep your part of the deal and you'll find me true to my promise."

"Your trust will not be betrayed."

"Good. Then we will remain in contact."

With this, he leaves the teahouse and makes his way towards their horses, until he takes a wrong turn down another street and Zahir calls him.

"It's the other way, sayidi."

He throws a glance at him, silently asking him to keep following, and Zahir does so without any objection, up to another intersection when he hides behind the wall and pulls Zahir with him.

A few moments later, a man appears at the intersection, hood and mask covering his face. He looks around, probably searching for them.

It's a lapse of a second. Adam acts immediately. Unsheathing his dagger, he leaps at the man. Their stalker doesn't get time to reach. Adam puts the blade to his throat and jerks him back.

"You weren't satisfied listening to us in the teahouse that you had to follow us all the way here," he growls.

The man panics, struggling with him, and Zahir comes to snatch the cloth from his face.

"Palace guard," he announces.

"You're spying on me for Sulaiman?"

"N-no!" he hurries to refuse. "I only happened to pass by. I don't know anything. Let me go!"

Across the street, Adam catches sight of another man-- another palace guard. When the spy notices being caught, he runs in the opposite direction.

Adam clicks his tongue. "My mother told me that lying is a sin."

He kicks the man in the knee and throws his dagger at the other spy. It hits him in the back and he falls down. But quickly pushes himself up and keeps stumbling ahead. Adam takes his bow and loads an arrow.

"Bismillah."

He releases the arrow and it pierces him through and through, ending him. He turns his attention back to the spy at his feet. The man gives him a horrified expression but doesn't get to say anything as his neck is snapped next.

Looking around, he finds the street to be dead and empty once again. Walking to the man up ahead, he removes his dagger from his body and wipes it clean against his thigh.

"Take care of them, Zahir. I'll see you at the palace."

He spends the rest of the day meeting his officials and discussing the status of his soldiers with Taha. By the time he returns to the palace, the sky has changed colors.

He takes a bath first, changing from his armor into a black thobe and letting his hair down to dry. When he arrives at his chamber, he finds Daud outside who tips his head at him in greeting.

"Marhaba, sayidi."

"Thank you, Daud."

He opens the doors for him and Adam enters the chambers, finding his wife to be absent. When he's about to turn around and ask Daud for her, the balcony doors fly open and she comes running to him.

"Adam!"

She throws herself in his arms and he has to catch her to steady her before returning her embrace, her grip around him vice and fixed, nearly suffocating him. But he doesn't complain, rubbing her back.

"You missed me so much, I see," he teases her.

"Yes," she confesses, surprising him a little. "I missed you so much. Let me hold you a while longer."

He doesn't question her, allowing her to keep him in her arms as he lowers his face into the crook of her neck, but realizing very well something has Noura troubled. Something he knows he wouldn't like if he learns.

Yet he asks her, "Tell me what bothers you, farasha?"

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Tell me your thoughts, butterflies.

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