Life is not all lovely thorns and singing vultures, you know.

— Morticia Addams

HE DRAWS OUT the sword from its sheath sent to him as a gift from one of the governors. He holds it up and studies it. The blade glints in sunlight filtering into the throne room through the windows. Then it slices the rays when he flips the sword to his other hand, swinging it, checking its grip. He brings it back down and rests the tip on the floor. Marrar watches the caliph smile.

"I like it." Aswad turns the sword in his hand. "I will keep it. Send back my thanks for this beautiful present."

Kanan tips his head. "I will, my Ameer."

"There are more swords, sayyidi," Rouzbeh informs him.

"How many?"

"Two more."

"Marrar?" Aswad calls him.

He steps forward. "Yes, my Ameer?"

"You may take a sword if you wish to, and give the other to Furat as a gift from me."

"As you say, sayyidi."

Aswad waves his hand, dismissing everyone, but gestures for him to stay. All the men start filing out of the room one by one, except for Kanan who stays behind as well.

"You've something to say, Kanan?" Aswad asks.

Kanan comes closer, his hands tied before him respectfully. "Yes, sayyidi. There's something I was hoping I could speak to you about."

Aswad only nods, a silent permission for him to go on whilst his eyes still remain on the sword, admiring it. Kanan waits for the throne room to be emptied, his eyes briefly meeting Marrar's as if wishing for him to be gone too before he can speak whatever is on his mind. But the general firmly stays his ground.

"I wished to speak about myself and the Amira, sayyidi," Kanan says.

If he wasn't a man of perseverance and proficiency, Marrar would never be able to master the art of leading his soul with his wits than emotions. But life has taught him well. He remains calm even when a storm rises in his heart.

Aswad pauses. Though his eyes stay on the sword, Marrar can tell that he's no more thinking about it. Something in his already eery eyes turn darker.

"Speak," he permits again.

"My Ameer, if you will allow it, I wish to marry the Amira." Kanan smiles a hesitant smile. "I've spoken to her about it and she has no objection to it as long as you don't have any."

Aswad doesn't respond. Kanan looks at him, then back away to the caliph. His smile fades into an expression of worry as he waits for an answer.

"My Ameer," he proceeds after a while when Aswad doesn't reply. "If we have your permission, I will like to hold our nikkah as soon as possible. It's been overdue already—"

"Nothing is overdue," Aswad cuts him sharply, finally lifting his petrifying gaze to him. "In the middle of all the chaos during these previous years, did you think me marrying my sister to you was wise when you yourself was barely keeping everything together?"

Kanan opens and closes his mouth a few times to come up with a response, clearly taken aback at Aswad's reaction.

"Of course not, sayyidi. That wasn't what I meant. I only meant that it was the will of your late father, may he rest in peace, to marry the Amira to me and see us happy together. But unfortunately it couldn't happen during his lifetime—"

Aswad lifts his fist to silence him and Kanan clamps shut his mouth.

"My father is dead, Kanan. I'm the Khalifa now. And I will do as I see fit. Whether I had chosen to marry Rahaf to you over his funeral or I make you wait a hundred years for the wedding, it comes to my will now."

Aswad steps towards Kanan and brings his sword to his neck. The vizier looks at him with wide, fearful eyes.

"Though Rahaf has lost her father, but don't forget that her brother is still alive. And do not forget that I'm way more severe in punishment than my father ever was."

Marrar can only quietly watch what unfolds before him. Kanan is not only a man among the nobles and the grand advisor of Ameer Aswad, but he's supposed to be marrying the princess and soon to become the brother-in-law of the caliph. Yet the caliph has his sword at the neck of the man whose blood if spilled might turn a mighty force against the crown.

Then again, this is Aswad bin Motassem, Marrar thinks. The man who is fearless and relentless. The man who never bends or admits defeat. The man who indeed is more severe and brutal than any man he has known. That even if it comes to punishing someone like Kanan, Marrar knows Aswad will not show him any mercy.

"My Ameer," Kanan chokes, his voice sounding as if stuck in his throat. Marrar doesn't need to look any closely to see him trembling. "Did I unknowingly offend you?"

"Did you?"

"I cannot think of such a thing."

Aswad smiles coldly and lowers his sword. "Then you've nothing to worry about. It's I who worry about my sister and so I said those words to you."

"I'll take great care of her, sayyidi. I'll never give you a chance to regret or complain if you consider me a worthy match for her."

Marrar almost laughs out at his hypocrisy. It's funny to him. But only if he knew the caliph is already well aware of his deception.

Yet Aswad plays along and nods. "I'll think about it. But remember any negligence might cost you more than you can afford."

Kanan stands prouder, as if he isn't a disappointment Marrar knows him to be. "You'll find me responsible and sincere."

Aswad nods again and waves his hand, dismissing him. This time Kanan goes rushing out of the throne room. The caliph once more becomes occupied with his new sword as his eyes skim over its blade.

"It's beautiful," he says.

"It is, sayyidi," Marrar agrees.

"I cannot wait to use it in a fight." He runs a finger over its sharp edge. "Marrar?"

"Yes, my Ameer?"

"What did Tabrez find?"

The question tells him Aswad once more is thinking beyond the sword and the affairs of the court. He's worried about his sister and despite his best effort not to be too obvious, Marrar knows it's bothering him.

"He found what Ameer Furat told the Amira to be true," Marrar informs him truthfully.

"What was Furat doing at the brothel?"

"He went with Ameer Kanan, sayyidi, since he went to receive him in Al Mariyya. But when Ameer Kanan found out about our return to Qurtuba, he changed plans and returned as well."

Aswad hums. "Was Furat with a woman?"

He doesn't know about the intentions of the admiral, neither does he wish to defend him. But he knows Rahaf ran into him that night, and any word against him can turn against her. Marrar carefully weaves his answer.

"None that we learnt of, sayyidi. He accompanied Ameer Kanan but probably didn't mean to take advantage of the opportunity. Tabrez informed me that the admiral spent the night alone. Although Ameer Kanan did pay for both of them for the night."

Aswad sheathes his sword. The sound of the metal echoes off from the walls. He turns to him, and though his face remains an expressionless mask his eyes are a home to mad hurricanes.

"How did Rahaf learn about all of this?"

"The Amira suspected him and sent spies after him."

"Did you know of this?"

Marrar nods, slightly embarrassed. "I did, sayyidi."

"Then why wasn't I informed?" Aswad demands, and he senses a harshness to his tone. "Why did I have to learn about this from Tabrez than you?"

He lowers his gaze. "My apologies, sayyidi. I wanted to confirm this before bringing it into your knowledge."

"Nothing shall remain hidden from me, Marrar. Especially something that concerns Adara or Rahaf." Aswad moves nearer to him. "Rahaf left the palace but I wasn't informed. She knew about Kanan but I didn't. All of this has been in your knowledge but not mine, why?"

Marrar cannot say anything.

"Confirm later, but tell me first. Don't try to take things in your hands unless I allow you to. This is about my sister, not just anyone. Don't expect me to be lenient with you if you try to handle such delicate matters yourself without informing me. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, my Ameer. Forgive me for my negligence. I'll be more careful in the future."

Aswad squeezes his shoulder firmly and Marrar looks up at him.

"I've faith in you."

The caliph let go of him and turns away, walking towards the window. He stands with his hands tied behind him as he looks outside.

"Adara told me Rahaf doesn't wish to marry Kanan. And if she has made her decision, then I've nothing to think about," Aswad tells him. With his back towards him, Marrar can no longer read his eyes. "But she's not a child anymore. Kanan is right— certain things actually are overdue. I need to find a good man for her so she can have a home of her own."

It pains him— the words, the thoughts, everything. To think Rahaf might marry someone else. To think she might love someone else. While he remains miserable. While she remains oblivious. How he pities himself. How cruel is fate. No matter if he wishes her to be happy, he still wishes her to be happy with him.

"Do you have someone in mind, my Ameer?" he dares to ask.

"I have. But I need to know first if she has someone of her own in mind."

Marrar cannot dare to ask who the caliph has in mind, or to tell him there probably isn't anyone in Rahaf's heart. He may know more about the Amira than her own brother. No matter how much he forbids his heart, it will try to seek and learn more of her.

But none of it matters. Because he knows it isn't him Aswad bin Motassem will ever consider for his sister. No matter if he's his most trusted man. No matter if he can sacrifice his life for him. The caliph and him share the darkest, most sinister secrets that even if he's the last man on earth, Aswad will never marry Rahaf to him. And he may be right in doing so.

But then again Marrar feels selfish sometimes. Sometimes he wishes Tahman had lived instead of Aswad, no matter if he knew the evil of both the brothers and knew Aswad to be the lesser evil of them both. But Tahman was still closer to him than Aswad. And Tahman certainly would've married his sister to him while Aswad most certainly will never. Yet what has happened has happened and he has long accepted his fate despite being bitter about it at times. Rahaf doesn't belong to him and it's for the better.

"The Malika may ask the Amira about it. If there's anyone you want me to gather information about to see if he's worthy of her, you may order me to do so, sayyidi," Marrar suggests.

Aswad only nods, an indication for him to let the matter rest for now.

"Any other orders for me, my Ameer?"

"No, you may leave."

Marrar tips his head and walks out of the throne room. Perhaps in the other life, he may be allowed to live his life as he wills it.

"ASWAD BIN MOTASSEM is a bastard."

Furat hears Kanan whine like a woman for the hundredth time. A man fills their cups with wine and Rouzbeh quickly lifts his to his lips, probably to ease the headache Kanan is giving them.

"He put a sword at my neck and threatened me. How dare he."

Furat resists the urge to roll his eyes and carefully lowers his cup to the ground, spilling the wine until his cup is empty.

"Don't waste the wine." Kanan frowns at him. "If you don't want it, give it to me."

"Get drunk, you fool. So ibn Motassem may actually have a reason to refuse marrying his sister to you," Furat mocks.

"That will never happen. I will marry Rahaf even if I've to kill Ameer Aswad for it."

This time Furat chuckles, unable to contain himself against Kanan's frustration. Rouzbeh gives him a look that tells him to behave. But he has never been too good at being considerate whenever situations demanded. He lacks both the skill and the heart for it.

"Maybe you should actually get drunk and see your dreams coming true when you're out unconscious here on the ground."

Kanan glares at him at the remark. Unbothered, Furat breaks the bread before him into pieces. He takes a bite of it. A man comes to fill his cup of wine again but Furat covers it with his hand and shakes his head.

"You've really changed," Kanan comments. "When did you stop drinking?"

"Long ago."

"Why?"

Furat looks at him and Kanan smirks.

"I know you're still a devil, Furat."

"Don't interest yourself with things that don't concern you," Furat replies.

"We're friends, aren't we?"

"My personal affairs are my own. I don't need to indulge a friend in them."

"Let's just eat, shall we?" Rouzbeh interjects, and Furat feels grateful to him for the save.

Certain conversations he prefers to avoid as they open rotten graves from his past. And Rouzbeh knows it better than anyone that the change he has gone through is the most horrible of those graves. He has taken years to bury that corpse— he would rather not have any ghosts haunt him again.

They eat in silence for a while sitting outside a small eating place in the cold night. There aren't many people around to fill the place. Not that he minds though. He doesn't think any noise would've been better added to Kanan's whining. But then Kanan decides to touch a subject which fills his ears with all the noise enough to deaf him. And Furat would rather drown in the voices of the world then the ones in his head.

"There are rumors, you know?" Kanan subtly hints as he glances at him. "They say you changed because of your sister."

"Kanan." It's Rouzbeh that warns him, clearly telling him not to step into forbidden territories. But the man before him is a bastard himself.

"What was her name? I've forgotten."

"No one says her name unless they want me to disconnect their jaw from their skull."

But Kanan laughs as if he has told him a joke. "I remember her."

Despite his best efforts not to lose control, Furat feels his blood boiling hot in rage. Rouzbeh beside him sits stiff, as if knowing something scary and regretful is about to happen.

"Shut your mouth, Kanan, or I'll break it shut for you."

The insult makes Kanan sober up as the traces of laughter and mischief leave his face. He looks offended to him, now his own eyes burning in wrath.

"You don't speak to me that way, Furat. Don't forget you were just a beggar in the streets of Qurtuba who crawled his way to this rank. One word from me and you'll be back in the streets."

"Don't think too high of yourself," Rouzbeh snaps before Furat can respond. "You may be a vizier in the court of the caliph, but Furat rules the seas surrounding this land. Be wary of who you make your enemy."

Kanan seems ready to retort, but then reconsiders and bites back his tongue. He gets up from the table and walks away.

Rouzbeh turns to him. "Don't mind him, akhi. He's up to no good."

"I swear to God, he'll never be able to think of Farya again," Furat responds as his gaze follows Kanan. "Watch this beggar take your woman from you, Kanan."

Furat sends a vow to the winds.

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May the next update not take longer than this one. But if it does, please be patient with me.