Between the lips and the voice something goes dying.

— Pablo Neruda

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Him

"There has been major riots going on in Basra that need urgent attention," his vizier informs him. "They're only becoming more frequent and serious."

"What is the status of the men I sent there?" he asks one of his guards.

"They're trying to keep them in check, my Ameer, but it's proving to be difficult now."

"What do those people want?"

"I think you know what they want, my prince." She comes to stand behind him, placing her hands over his shoulders. "They want the impossible."

It's no surprise to him how she always addresses him as a prince despite him achieving more than that. He knows to her the title of the caliph will always belong to only one man.

"Prince Sulaiman sent a proposal for negotiation over the matters," his vizier adds. "He hopes you'll opt for peace."

He smirks, knowing the only way to peace is for him to surrender to the prince. But he's not the one to give up without a fight. He never has been.

"Sulaiman wants the throne?" He twirls the ring on his finger, humming darkly. "Send a message back. Tell him I'll give him war."

Her

"Is there any way to escape from the palace?"

"Escape from the palace? Maybe. But escape from its Khalifa?" Maysoon chuckles hopelessly as she looks around the garden. "Darling do you think I'd be here if I knew of a way myself?"

Noura walks beside her, eyes tumbling from person to person and thing to thing as if looking for the said escape. "Well, where would you be?"

"Somewhere less ghastly." She gives her a fleeting glance. "Somewhere I could call my home."

Noura smiles sardonically. "I think I know what you mean."

Maysoon stops by a rose bush, leaning in to breathe in its fragrance. "At least you know the meaning of home better than me. You still have one, something to look forward to." She grazes the flowers with her fingertips. "I'm living an uncertainty in the name of life, not knowing what I'm waiting for to happen. A miracle, maybe?" She sighs and straightens, looking up at the sky. "Or maybe a war."

Noura raises both eyebrows incredulously. "You wish for a war to happen?"

"Is it outrageous?" She turns to her, tilting her head slightly. "I don't wish for bloodshed. I only want things to go back to how they used to be-- how they were when Sulaiman was the governor of Dimashq and we were living at his palace. I was happier; I had my freedom. With Al Shafay as the ruler, everything comes down to his desire." They idly resume their stroll through the garden. Maysoon continues, "I only long to be reunited with my brother-- for him to claim what rightfully is his. This caliphate belongs to Sulaiman, not Al Shafay. But I don't think it's possible with peace; war seems inevitable."

"But with war, bloodshed seems inevitable," Noura points out.

"Certainly seems so." Maysoon looks at her, an almost predatory gleam highlighting her elegant features. "But don't you think this title of Khalifa belongs to Sulaiman, Nour?"

Noura contemplates over her question. With the history of prince Sulaiman's rebellion against his older brother, caliph Yusuf, she knows the prince severed his reputation. But then again caliph Yusuf's mistake of changing the rules and dismissing his brother from heirship of the throne was bound to have a reaction from the younger prince. She doesn't know who to side with on the matter, given both the action of caliph Yusuf and the reaction of prince Sulaiman that resulted in a war costing many lives were wrong.

"Wouldn't it be considered a treason against the crown to stand against Al Shafay, knowing that the council chose him as the caliph?" Noura asks. "If war happens and this change of power takes place forcefully, what would it mean for everyone?"

Maysoon stops by the fountain, grinning at her, but something about the gesture unsettles her-- the way its haunting and diabolical but mocking at the same time. The princess might be easy to get along with and make a good friend, but so can she be a difficult rival, she's sure.

"Then I think this perspective of who's considered a traitor will change, because then those who stand against Sulaiman will be the ones falling into this category."

"And Al Shafay?"

"Al Shafay?" Maysoon ponders out loudly, as if thinking of a punishment for him. "Well, someday his rein must come to an end. And who knows, there's no guarantee of his life either," she states carelessly.

Noura doesn't know how to feel about the information. The court and it's affairs can be complex, and Al Shafay hasn't been fair to her, but war and bloodshed aren't something she wishes for, neither for a life to be cut short. Though she prays for justice, so does she hope for peace.

"Well, wouldn't it be beautiful?" Maysoon chirps, smiling blissfully, as if peeking into a distant future-- one filled with merriment. "If it's Sulaiman instead of Al Shafay, you can return home to your mother, no more to be enslaved here. And I," her smile broadens into a grin, "I can finally be with the man I love."

"But I thought things ended between you two," Noura recalls discreetly.

"I can give him another chance," she declares, her tone gentle but firm, and dips a finger in the fountain water. "Al Shafay wouldn't allow it, but I'm sure Sulaiman will. He would've allowed it even in the past, I know. He was my brother. He'd do anything for my happiness."

"If the man you loved knew this, why did he bail on you after your affair was discovered?"

"Our circumstances were unfavorable then," Maysoon defends him, retracting her finger and turning back at her. "But it's different now."

"Pardon me, amira, but if you forgive him so easily without assuring that he reciprocates your feelings, he might break your heart again."

Maysoon goes silent, absently staring into nothingness, before finally nodding. "You're right, Nour. But he might break it anyway if he denies me of his love."

"Well, you told me he's in the army, right?" Noura smirks suggestively at her. "Eskander might know something, so I can be of help if you allow me to."

Maysoon laughs lightly and shakes her head. "I appreciate it, but I won't trouble you with this." She peeks up at the sun preparing to sink. "In fact, if you see your brother, send him to me. I had asked him for a favor but he's going lazy on me."

"I will," Noura agrees stiffly, her reference with Eskander still too bitter to swallow.

"Will you come to the harem with me?" Maysoon asks, motioning towards the palace. "You never make an appearance, and the rumors of Al Shafay wanting to finally take a bride has spread like a wildfire among the girls. They want to know what is it about you that has enraptured the Khalifa."

"Maybe another time, amira," Noura excuses with an ironic smile. "Maybe I'm living another woman's dream who wants to be in my place and be the caliph's queen, but misfortune comes to everyone in different forms. For them if harem is slavery, for me it's the Khalifa. So tell them it's nothing about me that makes me different than them-- tell them it's just fate playing us differently."

"Nour." Maysoon holds her arms, looking at her with something indecipherable-- pity or sympathy, she cannot tell. "This will all come to an end, I promise."

They gaze at each other, and Noura gives her another smile, grateful for understanding. She returns it with her lively grin, mischief making her eyes sparkle as she whispers to her, "You can be with your friend then, the one admires you. Poor man must have send you a garden of jasmines by now."

Noura blushes and quickly shakes her head in refusal. "Oh no, there's nothing as such between us."

But Maysoon only chuckles, amusement still dancing in her orbs as she makes her way to inside of the palace. Noura keeps standing by the foundation, watching her disappear out of sight until another voice speaks from behind her.

"I wouldn't make friends with just anyone if I were you."

Noura turns to her, Arwa looking at her with a cold and impenetrable eyes. Adam isn't with her, another guard accompanying her, and for some reason she's thankful for it.

"I understand that the palace is home to many snakes, each of lethal venom," Noura remarks, words laced with hidden sarcasm.

"True." Arwa glances in the direction in which Maysoon left before returning her gaze to her. "Careful, you never know when you might get stabbed in the back."

"Funny how I don't know whether it's an advice or threat when coming from you, malika."

She knows testing her luck with the queen isn't something she should be doing. Arwa might not appreciate her audacity or impudence. But she hasn't shown her any kindness so far either, keeping much distance between them, unlike Maysoon who approached her and made an effort towards friendship.

To her surprise, Arwa gives her a faint, crooked smile. "I stab in the heart, habibti, not in the back. What I said was meant as an advice, not a threat."

"I'm delighted by your concern for me."

"As you shall be."

She doesn't stay any longer and walks away, the guard closely following behind her. From her beauty to demeanor, there's something of exquisite precision, though savage yet close to perfection. Noura secretly feels envious of her, not knowing where this sudden change of emotions is coming from.

It's obvious to her why Yusuf bin Khalid loved her. It's clear why Adam does so too.

Shaking off her thoughts and mentally scolding her self for indulging into them, she too makes her way inside the palace.

The day has blended into late evening when she decides to visit Eskander at his chamber. Despite his return, he seems to be occupied most of the time and she hardly gets to see him around. Though the situation at the kingdom isn't hidden to anyone, Eskander seems to be dealing with a lot more than others. Sometimes, she aches for him. Other times, she's just proud of him.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," Noura announces her presence as she steps into his chamber.

He looks up from the map spread on the table to her. "Nour."

It's a simple word, her name, but the way he says it puts so much meaning to it. Noura doesn't know if it's his voice or his manner of saying it that melts her every time.

"Come in, azizem. I'm winding up in a minute, just reviewing some strategies."

"The amira wanted to see you regarding something," Noura tells him as she walks deeper into the room and goes to stand closer to where he's studying the map, quietly watching as Eskander marks certain points, keeping her curiosity chained so as not to disturb him with her questions.

"Already did," he replies.

"She mentioned a favor she asked of you but you've been ignoring her."

"She wants to polish her skills in archery. I've a lot on my hands, I can't train her personally as per her will. And it's Adam who trains archers anyway, not me."

"Adam?"

"Yes. He's the best we have."

She doesn't say anything more, ideas and thoughts once more straying into dark territories. Eskander glances up at her.

"Something on your mind, janem?"

"Is war inevitable, Eskander?" she speaks her worry, her earlier conversation with Maysoon coming to plague her. "Is there no way of peace to settle things?"

"It's a matter of power," Eskander points out. "I don't think the fight for throne can be settled so peacefully."

"Power, dominance, authority, I know this is what men want. But what about the price that must be paid for it?"

Eskander pauses, staring at her a good while. Then he abandons the map on the table and walks around to her. He gestures to the seats by the fireplace and Noura silently complies, going to sit there. He pulls a chair closer to her and sits in front of her.

"I'm a soldier, Nour. I'm trained to fight. And there are millions like me out there ready to sacrifice their lives. But if there's a way of peace, then why not? Though I'm afraid there ain't one."

"But what good has war bought to anyone in the past?" she recalls, worry evident in her tone. "Who are you sacrificing your life for, Eskander, and why?"

Eskander knits his brows, studying her. "What is that supposed to mean? I serve the crown. I intend to keep the sacredness of my vows towards it."

"But between Al Shafay and prince Sulaiman, who are you fighting for?" Noura stares into his eyes. "Where do your loyalties lie?"

His pupils dilate. He looks away from her to the fire, the orange flames sketching shadows across his face, making the gold of his orbs glimmer and dim every time the glow skims them. He seems to be mulling over her question.

"What do you think, Nour?" he asks without looking at her. "Who should I be dedicating my services to?"

"I..." Noura finds herself at loss of response. Eskander looks back at her.

"Who does the throne belong to?" he utters. "Who's the heir to it?"

She doesn't say anything, and he exhales heavily, as if exhausted with an internal battle.

"For years I've been asking myself this question, every since Al Shafay claimed that title: Who's the Khalifa I'm serving?" Eskander locks his fingers between his knees, expression turning hard and wooded. "Who is Al Shafay?"

"Eskander." Noura places her hand over his forearm, a newfound concern constricting her throat. "Whoever is Al Shafay, if you go against him, you'll be prosecuted for treason. Because he's the Khalifa chosen by the council. You can lose your life if you do that. They'll call you a traitor."

"I think after everything I've been through, I can take the burden of that stain too."

"Eskander--"

"Shush." He places a finger to her lips, gaze turning a bit harsher. "I'm not going against the council. I've served Al Shafay so long. But after all these years if prince Sulaiman returns and wants the throne that rightfully belongs to him, then do you want me to break my vows?" He shakes his head, stern in his denial. "I can never do that, Nour. I can't be a coward. My father sacrificed his life for caliph Khalid ibn Al Malik. When I joined the army, I took oath to dedicate my life and loyalty to ibn Khalid (son of Khalid). So when Yusuf bin Khalid was the Khalifa, I served him. Now when Sulaiman bin Khalid wants the caliphate, then I'll do what I can to bring him justice."

"Prince Sulaiman rebelled against his brother," Noura argues. "That's why the council chose Al Shafay as Khalifa than him."

"Because Al Shafay claimed to be a prince, proposing to rule under the name of Yusuf bin Khalid until Yusuf himself returns to reclaim the title. But it's been years and caliph Yusuf hasn't returned. Who knows if he's even alive or not. There has even been a namely burial for him. Say, Yusuf bin Khalid doesn't return, how long do Al Shafay rule then? Forever?" Eskander clicks his tongue in dismay. "Who'll be the heir to the throne after him? And even if he's a prince, what if he's ibn Marwan (son of Marwan)?"

Noura blinks, letting the last statement sink. "Marwan? The brother-in-law of of caliph Khalid who started the first rebellion against caliph Yusuf?"

"Yes," Eskander affirms bitterly. "I can't be serving the son of a traitor. Because even if Al Shafay is a prince, why he never made an appearance despite the council accepting him as Khalifa is beyond my understanding. This is the only explanation that comes to my mind. The kingdom can never accept ibn Marwan as their Khalifa, and so the prince decided to keep his identity hidden. No one even knows his real name; he goes by a regnal one."

Noura goes silent, her mind a mush of untangled thoughts and questions each of which lead to dead ends and dire consequences. The complications of the situation with the throne aside, it is the wellbeing of Eskander that worries her more now, knowing his intentions of standing against rather than beside the Khalifa.

"What are you strategizing for?" Noura inquiries, referring to the map lying on the table. "If you don't intend to defend Al Shafay, what is all of this then?"

"To defend my people," he declares, frank in his speech. "To not let the war cause the same damage as the last time."

Noura covers her face with both hands, sighing in exhaustion. "I don't understand. I don't know who's the hero and who the villain in this war. I don't know who to stand by or pray for."

"Nour." Eskander takes both of her wrists in his hands and lowers them. "Look at me."

She does so reluctantly.

"You know when I joined the army, prince Sulaiman took me in his service. He had been kinder to me than anyone else. During all the years I served him in his palace at Dimashq, he bestowed many favors upon me. It was also because of his support that despite my younger age, I was considered for the rank of the general. And when I was selected and sent to Ar Raqqa," he swallows thickly, "war happened, and everything changed. I lost him too."

"And if you were with him during the war?" Noura supposes weakly.

"I never wanted the brothers to fight against each other. But if I was there," he once more glances away into the fire, "I'd have stood by the prince. Not because he was more like a friend to me, but because after Yusuf bin Khalid, the throne rightfully belonged to him, and caliph Yusuf denouncing him as a heir was unfair to the prince."

"If war happens again, Eskander, and you stand by the prince, what if you're convicted for treason?"

He smiles and turns to her, something rueful tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I'll send you home before war. I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe."

"I'm talking about you." She leans forward, heart thudding like a wild animal as she holds his face in her hands. "Promise me that you'll return home to me, Eskander."

"I cannot promise you something like that. I'm no God-- I don't know what future holds." He tilts his head to kiss her palm before allowing his gaze to be shattered in her eyes. "But if I don't return, then know that I love you, Noura." He then closes his eyes as he mumbles, "I always have."

A lone tear runs down her cheek and she quickly blinks the rest back, closing her eyes too as she sniffs quietly.

How she wishes if they were just two strangers running into each other at a bazar or street and then falling in love. If Eskander Teymour wasn't a general torn between two poles, and if she wasn't a woman bound to another man with the Khalifa of the kingdom after her.

She wishes for so many things. And she realizes a lot of times, wishes are only sighs echoing between the earth and skies in hopes of finding solace-- in hopes to finally fall asleep peacefully.

But that sometimes, peace is only a frail hope against war-- that sometimes, war is inevitable.

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Yusuf / Al Shafay or Sulaiman, what's your pick?

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