Meal served was fragrant yellow rice on a piece of banana leaf, with sides of fried little anchovies, sticky sweet and salty, mixed with peanuts. It was a simple fare but still much better than what the masses eat daily. Most people had to mix their rice with other grains, seeds or starchy tubers. As a learned rishika, Samira had ways to increase her income and was living a simple, comfortable life.
She really wasn't like most people in that aspect too. Female rishis were rare as most girls wouldn't have the opportunity to study and were married off very young. If it wasn't for Samira's father, Ahad the Sailor, her fate would've been the same with other girls in her village.
Her father was a captain and he had seen much of the known world in his travels. In the rare occasion when he rested inland between his voyages, he would tell her stories and brought her trinkets. Reading materials from him were her most beloved treasures. Strings of painted lontars from the west, scrolls of papyruses from the southern kingdoms, and binded paper books from the Northern Empire.
It was that dream, painted by the words she'd read, that carried her through life. It was that dream that was reflected in her eyes and gave her a peculiar gaze.
Samira was pretty, but she was not to the calibre of famed beauties, at best she's just that lovely girl next door. She has common brown hair, long ringlets of hair that fall to her waist. She wasn't tall, in fact she was shorter than most. Her body was thin and flat, not curvaceous like what most people would think of someone who could make a prince fell madly in love.
Farhad said it was her eyes that first drawn him in. Framed with straight brows and long lashes. But she knew Farhad didn't fall in love with her because of her physique.
[I'd give anything to know what's going on in that little head of yours.]
[Even your life?]
[Pft. Of course not to that extreme. If I die, I wouldn't be able to enjoy your presence. I would like to live a very, very looong life. I heard rishis like you were practically immortals.]
They were not immortals. Her teacher died just months ago.
[Anyway, I need to find a way to keep my handsome face to old age.]
Yes, Farhad was a very handsome man. Too handsome for his own good.
[Wouldn't want you to look for a new spring while I'm alive. I plan to grow old with you.]
They wouldn't. They grew up together into adulthood, but they wouldn't grow old together. In that aspect they were also different than how most relationship goes. They were each others sweetheart for seven years. Granted that most were spent in childhood when they didn't know any better, let alone understand love. But still, what they had was something that would've been sung as romantic ballads across the land.
Normally, marriages were arranged, the couples only meeting a few times before their wedding. Some even met their future spouse at the day of the wedding. Love was rare in the beginning.
That was why there was an uproar when Samira broke things off with Prince Farhad. Everyone was so sure that they would wed. Even the most conservative Akataran elders had warmed up to the idea of a peasant girl from Érdélin marrying their prince.
The two kingdoms' relationship was strained after the late King Soma and Crown Prince Mehrdad's death. It was why Crown Prince Darsana came to Érdélin in person, as a gesture of good faith, to speed up the marriage between Prince Ekram and Princess Ishani. Then in this tense climate, a mere peasant girl from Érdélin dumped an Akataran prince out of the blue.
From the grapevines, she heard the estimated damage caused by Farhad's shenanigans after their breakup. A tea house and a tavern suffered major damage of considerable cost. At least four wounded and bedridden, probably more if Farhad's guards hadn't come in time. The poor souls, they were hired to guard other people 'from' Farhad, not the other way around.
Things had only died down after Farhad caused one last major diplomatic disaster when he sparred recklessly with Crown Prince Ekram of Érdélin. Farhad broke Ekram's nose and beaten the poor crown prince silly.
That stupid Ekram, Samira thought. The three of them were good friends and the kind Ekram must've had good intention. But Samira was always in the opinion of casting a spell to knock Farhad out instead of letting him run amok until his bloodlust sated.
[Samira... Don't you think you make him pass out too often? I heard too much fainting spells like this could make a person go dumb.]
[Worry not, Ekram. I have enough brains for the two of us. Farhad's already stupid enough at most times. Look at all the stupid shit he got himself into. A little more wouldn't hurt.]
[There, there, my friend. Have a drink and rest. You must be tired from running around after him.]
[With all the things I've done for him, I should've been formally hired by the Akataran court, I tell you.]
[Yes, I understand. Now calm down, Samira. You know when you get angry things around you got affected. Look, the flower in that vase suddenly wilted and the fruits there shriveled. I don't want to turn into an old man too quickly, so please calm your anger, okay?]
The royal court was chaotic when she arrived for her first day. Farhad was the one who broke Ekram's nose, but in other peoples opinion it was Samira's fault. The two princes were good friends, if it's not because of that heartless witch dumping the poor handsome Farhad then this kind of accident wouldn't happened.
They were wrong. She was ruthless, yes, but she was not heartless.
She had visited Ekram after the incident. He looked awful, and the silly old fool was still able to smile to greet her. So Samira punched him.
[Why did you hit me?! Samira, it's dangerous! It's just us here and you punch like a lame cat, but I am still of royal blood and this is the royal court. Be careful, the old geezers are being so touchy right now. What if they asked for your head?]
[That's good if you know. If not, I was considering if I should punch you some more.]
[Please don't.]
[I won't. But stop getting into this matter between Farhad and I. You know how he is when he's angry. Ekram, we both are your friends. I don't want you to be forced to make a choice between us two. You should also remember that you are the crown prince of this kingdom and Farhad's an Akataran prince. It might just be a friendly brawl between you two, but other people might look at it differently.]
All these headaches and heartaches, no wonder she fell sick eventually.
As she said before, she wasn't heartless.
But today's another day, and a good one at that. Her fever broke this morning and she was feeling much better by noon. Her appetite came back and she relished the simple taste of sweet and salty. While she was having her meal, Anika came back bringing a string of lontar manuscript. Samira gestured for Anika to sit by her side at the dining table. Formality and etiquette were trivial things. This was her home, she would do as she please.
"So, what do you choose to read today? Can you recognize the title?" said Samira warmly with a smile.
"I can!" answered Anika proudly, her face beaming. "Here, it's Ra.. Rara.. Rara Jonggrang!"
"The tale of the slender virgin. Good choice. This is a new edition. It's written in Érdélin Aksara but the words used are of the common speech."
Anika groaned pitifully, regretting her choice.
"Don't make such a face," Samira laughed. "It's a good opportunity for you to learn the speech used commonly across Mora. Who knows if fate will take you to lands far away from home? You should learn other language beside Érdélian. Be dilligent. I will teach you."
They spent the day reading the tale slowly. Samira was known for her ruthlessness, but she could also be very patient. She was patient enough to dilligently clean up Farhad's mess, teaching an illiterate village girl to read and write was nothing. It was even soothing to Samira. She was an only child and being like she was, she didn't have many friends growing up in Honta. Other children her age disliked her back then.
Anika was a bit different from other native Hontans. Maybe they got along well because of that. There was a little fire kindling in the younger girl's heart. A hunger for something more, a twinkle of curiosity and deviance in her eyes. Samira took her in and treated her like a younger sister she never had.
The least she could do was this; she could at least protect a little girl's fire not to be extinguished by the harsh reality of the world they lived in. Samira could arm the girl with knowledge, a skill to make a living independently in the future.
At least better than the fate of the princess in the story they read. It was a tale about two warring kingdoms. The kingdom where Rara Jonggrang came from was painted as an agressive expansionist, the antagonist of the story. While the heroic prince was the saviour of the land. The prince killed the princess' father and won the war.
Then he fell in love with her at first sight.
Madly, deeply, horrifically.
The prince, her father's killer, demanded her to marry him.
In desperation to stop him from marrying her, she demanded an impossible trial for him to marry her. She asked him to dig a very deep well and a thousand temples, all of those must be done in one night. The powerful prince commanded armies of yakshas and djinns to accomplish his task. And many times the princess pulled tricks to make him fail.
In the story, he was so in love with her that he forgave her betrayals. But could it be called betrayals? She was only trying to survive and protect her honor.
Her greatest feat was when the prince finished the 999th temple. Dawn was still yet to come. Rara Jonggrang and her maids then lit fires in the east and they started pounding rice loudly. The commotion tricked the rooster into thinking it was dawn. The rooster crowed, and the summoned spirits thinking dawn has arrived, fled without finishing the last temple.
The prince was furious. The kind of power he had called demanded a hefty price of blood. Not wanting to suffer alone, the prince cursed the princess into a stone statue. The last piece of the last temple, fulfilling the condition of the marriage.
In the end, there were no happy ending for both sides.
"Was the story always this bleak?" Anika sighed as she lay sprawled on the wooden floor. Listless and tired. "I remembered it sounded more heroic back when I heard it in Honta."
"You were a little child back then," said Samira gently as she made a pot of tea. She dropped a piece of stone sugar into the brew, letting the heat dissolve the sweetness gently. Two cups of earthern ware were placed on the low dining table.
"You might not understand the nuances and thought it was just a story about a starcrossed prince and princess."
"Yes, perhaps, but this is beyond horrible... Thank the heavens it was only a story."
"It was based on real events in ancient time," Samira poured the tea. "Mystified and told through generations, it became a folk tale. What lessons do you take from the story?"
"I... I don't know. I just feel bad for the princess."
"The lesson, Anika, is that the winner rewrite history. Their version of truth."
"But who is the winner in that one? Both seems to be losing."
Samira smiled. Dusk was approaching, the day was ending.
"Another lesson, is that nothing in this world is black and white."