There was an eerie silence that surrounded the alyaqut palace—the residential area for the men of the royal family save for the sultan—just as darkness fell upon the skies, the desert air turning chilly as hours went by. Even the peacocks, which were known as the pride of the manse, had retreated at the sight of cold and fallen into sleep.
However, in the dark there stood one person—the sound of his sword slashing through the air and his blows on the practice mannequins resounding in the quiet. The looming figure of the first prince was clearly visible under the light of the moon, the conflict that painted his face apparent for anyone to see. After all, whereas the warrior had unmatched when it came to the strength of character—he lacked severely in nuance.
And while the first prince was lashing his frustration out at the wooden doll, his spectator was enjoying the performance far too much; behind one of the pillars that lined the arcade, stood Ghazi leaning sideways on the wall. His face had an entertained look on it—arms crossed in front of his chest.
"Tch Tch ... Look what war has done to my elder." His words were laced with mock sympathy so finely practised it seemed real. Almost. Making Qadir turn to his younger brother with a frown marking his brow.
"What do you want?" blunt as ever, Qadir inquired as his steps moved towards the bench, letting his blade fall carelessly with a crisp twang sound. Ghazi tutted again as if disappointed.
"Do you truly think I come to see you only when I want something, elder?" he questioned, to which Qadir replied without missing a beat. "That's why you approach anyone."
The second prince barked out a laugh in response, straightening to stride over to his brother, hands in his pockets, his manner casual. "You mean that's why everyone approaches someone." He pointed a finger at the taller man, correcting him,
"Us humans are selfish creatures, you know? We always want something from someone, and someone who can get us what we want is someone we cherish—thus making me sound like a sinner is simply unfair."
Qadir gave him an unimpressed look, ignoring his words to take a seat on the bench next to his blade, wiping the sweat off his brow with the end of his tunic.
"Hah, see! Even now you ignore me when I merely speak of the truth." Ghazi retorts in air, striding over to kick the destroyed mannequin with another, more sympathetic tut.
"Why are you here, Ghazi?" Qadir asks again, exasperated. The second prince just smirks, raising his arms in a shrug.
"Earlier in diwan-e-khas, when the sultan asked for your will regarding the marriage proposal, you seemed hesitant. And although it was clearly noticeable—seeing how grisly your acting is—our father dearest wouldn't pay any heed to it, since that is convenient for him,"
Qadir sighed at the cynicism in the other's voice. Something Ghazi conveniently ignored before continuing, "But it was enough to pique my curiosity. Did you really take a lover while you were gone or …?"
The first prince averted his gaze, almost as if guilty. Ghazi—greatly amused—raised both his brow as he turned to observe his brother's reaction. Stepping forward, he hummed in acknowledgement,
"So you did. Don't worry, brother dearest. No matter what those graspers in the diwan say—or the knowledge that the phiisms had made us rivals by law—you can always confide in me. Who knows? This upstart brother of yours might even solve your problem!"
"It is nothing like that." Qadir snapped immediately. "There is no point in pondering over the possibilities of the impossible. I took you for a practical man, leave the dreaming to children."
Ghazi nodded, flopping on the ground cross-legged, "You say as if you fell in love with the spirit of the desert itself. There is nothing such as impossible in the matters of heart, brother dearest, trust me on that one. Who is this girl anyway?—or perhaps, it is not a girl? Don't worry, you can tell me either way."
Vexed, Qadir snarled back at the younger before throwing the polishing rag his way. Laughing, Ghazi caught the flying rag in his hands before tossing it away, scrunching his nose in disgust.
"I'm curious, alright? It's not like you have any friends that'd bother with you as much as I do, you should appreciate it while you're able to," he remarked, making Qadir sigh.
"It was a tribal girl." His response evoked a sound of 'ooh' from Ghazi, who leaned back against the wall behind him, his elbow resting on his knee.
"We met during I had lost my fleet during one of our ambushes. In the southern ends of Jaf, nearing the border of Doth." Qadir replied, mirroring his brother and leaning back in his seat—dark eyes fixated up at the sky.
"What was a woman doing in that wasteland anyway? Aren't tribes supposed to be moving to the south this year?" Ghazi commented, earning a confused—almost nostalgic sigh from Qadir.
"I don't really know… I guessed she was a tribeswoman from her clothing—but from the first glance I could tell she wasn't an ordinary woman," and before he could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by Ghazi.
"Getting a little unoriginal there, brother dearest." Qadir turned his gaze towards Ghazi, almost defensive.
"Believe me, you'd think so too. When I found her she was standing in the mid of a sand blizzard, and while most ladies—hell, most grown men would shake with fear, she was composed. As if the storm around her barely shook her."
"We get it, you like them ballsy." Ghazi once again, interrupted cheekily, making Qadir frown at the younger.
"All I'm saying is—" He added, "That it isn't hard to find a tribeswoman. And not entirely as impossible as you're making it sound. We have barely three tribes in the desert of Jaf, and your memory isn't exactly bad now, is it?"
Qadir shook his head, "You don't understand. She disappeared as soon as the blizzard passed away. I may even have hallucinated her—and denying the sultan's command for the sake of chasing a mirage is foolish."
Ghazi smirked in response, adding with a suggestive tone. "You can always get a woman who looks like the one you saw in the mid of Jaf—and nothing says you cannot keep a mistress after marriage. For all we know, princess sora might have a lover of her own."
"Marriage is a sacred oath," Qadir added—glancing upwards once again, his tone disapproving. "You can wish to your ways of debauchery if you like. I am doing no such thing."
Ghazi sighed, shrugging as if he were stating the obvious. "We all have flaws, brother dearest. Mine simply happen to be more enjoyable than yours. You've no right to judge me."
"I think I do have the right, seeing my code is better than yours." Qadir's statement earned him a languid—dry smirk from Ghazi, who retorted instantly.
"And that does not make you better than me. Anyway, it'll be better if you forgot about the mashuk (beloved/lover) of yours who saved your life in the desert—since you aren't exactly sure if she's real or not." Stretching, Ghazi rose from the ground,
"Masah khair, (goodnight) brother dearest."
"Masah al'khair."