Yet more sparklies, cause I r0x0r
Sep. 16th, 2007 10:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrSandstorm, which hasn't been seen for awhile ^^;; Rest of it is here.
Twenty-Six
Bloodmoon stamped restlessly in the sand, and further troubled Sahayl by ignoring his silent command to hold still by giving one last hard, defiant stamp before finally settling.
His horse had been trained to perfection. Bloodmoon did not move restlessly when stillness was required, nor did he ever defy – without cause. If his horse was sufficiently troubled by something in the air, then there was most definitely a betrayal looming. Sahayl looked askance at Wafai, who nodded almost imperceptibly before motioning briefly, efficiently, to Noor and Kahlil. Ghosts needed no words to communicate. He felt the change in mood, energy, as words of caution were spread through the lines.
In the end, he had decided to take twelve Sheiks and their best men, about fifty to every Sheik, with him to the border of the Desert.
Gollen had sent a relatively positive reply – not outright agreement, but a willingness to more properly discuss matters. They also wanted to ascertain Princess Cordelia and Prince Rook were truly all right. More than fair.
Several yards away, just beyond the border of the Great Desert, a force to match his own waited calmly. Slightly in front of the gathered heathens was a man who, even at a distance, bore a strong resemblance to Princess Cordelia. The same gold hair, the same slightly crooked nose…and the set of his shoulders hinted at the same forthrightness Cordelia had already exhibited.
He looked to the princess, who sat calmly astride a desert mare, staring pensively at her brethren across the field. "Thoughts, my Princess?" Sahayl asked quietly. He looked to her left. "Prince Rook?"
Rook snorted. "I did not expect them to send Merrick."
"That is the one who resembles you?" Sahayl asked.
"Yes," Cordelia said. "The second of my three brothers." She frowned. "Though he is an excellent General, my father seldom risks him."
Bahadur grunted from Sahayl's right. "Then it strikes me as promising that he is here."
"I wonder what Shihab would say," Sahayl murmured, and wished his shadowfire was here – but he had chosen to hold Shihab and Isra back, on the chance that something went wrong. They he could trust implicitly to see to matters.
The day was a clear one, and Sahayl hoped that meant the Lady was showing her favor. It could mean other things, but he preferred not to dwell upon those possibilities though they lurked at the back of his mind.
Across the field, Prince Merrick and the men with him moved slowly forward. Sahayl motioned briefly to his men, then moved forward with Bahadur, Wafai, Cordelia and Rook. Beneath him, Bloodmoon was still restless and impatient. Sahayl wished badly to touch his sword in comfort, but such a gesture would not lend itself well to his professions of peace.
"Merrick," Cordelia greeted as they drew close, and started to perform introductions when her brother cut her off with a sharp motion.
Prince Merrick regarded them coolly. "Cordelia. Father expects you to cease this foolishness at once." He turned to regard Sahayl. "You are the Sandstorm about whom we've lately been hearing so much?"
Sahayl started to speak, but on either side of him Wafai and Cordelia launched into angry protestations, voices drowned out only by Rook bellowing for silence.
"Merrick, what are you talking about?" Rook demanded. "Why is his Majesty bidding her return? This arrangement is perfect for Gollen."
"You should perhaps have stayed in your seas," Merrick said coldly. "His Majesty has turned down the idea of marrying his daughter to an uncouth, untrustworthy savage."
"Then why attend this meeting at all?" Sahayl asked, meeting the cold heathen's eyes easily. Dark green eyes, nothing half so beautiful as Shihab's.
"We are retrieving her Highness, of course. She is elsewhere betrothed and her future husband is not pleased by her recent behavior."
Sahayl very nearly jumped as Cordelia seemed to all but explode beside him. "What!" She howled, shaking with rage. "I refused that bastard Jason and I will have nothing to do with it. I would sooner slit my own wrists than be shunted off to that wasteland."
Merrick let out a sharp, barking laugh. "Yet you want us to let you wander off to play in these abominable sands?"
Looking at the man, listening to him, Sahayl was all too reminded why the Sands despised heathens. "You are here solely to take back the Princess?"
"I'm not going," Cordelia said fervently.
"Then you are to be disowned," Merrick said, expression hard. "Cordelia, we are working too hard to let your damned impetuous ways ruin everything. Come home at once, or come home never again. Your cousin will do as well as you, in the matter of marriage, though of course we would prefer to have you."
Sahayl hissed at the cold words, fury growing at the ashen look that had taken over Cordelia's face.
Rook's voice whipped out, containing an icy fury he'd never heard from the strange heathen. "Merrick – what are you about? Lavarre and Hadge are not reliable. They will stab us in the back the first chance we get."
"Not if we stab them first," Merrick replied. "All we need from them is the favor Hadge has gained from Havarin."
Rook threw his head back and laughed, long and loud – but it wasn't a pleasant sound. Sahayl wondered what was truly going on, that they were both still speaking the language of the Sands when this was clearly something he should not be hearing.
Unless…hearing it was meant to dissuade him from his course.
Sahayl barely kept from showing his contempt at that notion – were this exclusively a Desert matter, Merrick's head would already be rolling in the sand. Lady spare him from dealing with heathens ever again after this.
"Havarin?" Rook said contemptuously. "Is that his Majesty's grand plan? To slip into Havarin's favor by way of Hadge? Havarin is the only country in the world stronger than Tavamara, and we have been failing to conquer Tavamara for longer than anyone can remember. Do you honestly think Havarin will ever deign to notice us when she never has before, nevermind assist in the conquering of Tavamara. Your father is not thinking!"
Merrick said nothing, merely continued to regard him coldly. Somehow, Sahayl thought, the traits that made the Princess beautiful and Rook intriguing…did nothing for Merrick.
"Saa," Sahayl said softly, "I had high hopes for this day. All for nothing, it would seem. Is there no chance of persuading you toward peace? The Sands seek to end the bloodshed which has reigned for countless years. We come in earnest to offer peace, and are more than willing to be generous in the negotiations." Not that generous, but so long as the heathens stayed out of the Desert and away from Tavamara when this was over, he could afford to be lenient in other matters, or so Shah had informed him in their last correspondence.
This being a Prince was difficult, and Sahayl felt woefully inadequate, especially up against a man who clearly held no such qualms – but he was the Sandstorm Prince of the Great Desert of Tavamara. He would accomplish what he'd come here to do.
One way or the other.
Merrick gave him an apologetic look that Sahayl would believe right after he believed Isra could go a day without losing his temper. "We are deeply honored by the Great Desert's offer of peace. Alas, we are not yet inclined to trust the words of blood-soaked savages. Cordelia, come at once. Rook."
"No," Rook said softly, looking miserable but determined. "I will not follow a man as foolish as your father is proving to be. I have done so long enough. I will no longer."
"Fine," Merrick said. "You are hereby tripped of all titles, your citizenship, and declared an enemy of Gollen. Cordelia – now. I will not tell you again."
Cordelia matched his ice with fire. "I hope that arrogance chokes you one day, Merrick. What is this really about? I cannot believe – would you please see reason? Are you getting a throne of your own out of this, is that what this is really about?"
In a burst of movement, Merrick lunged forward and backhanded her hard. Sahayl rippled with shock – then acted out of rage as he saw the lurid mark on Cordelia's cheek, the blood on her lips. He reached out and snatched the fabric of Merrick's odd robe, hauling the man off his horse, then dismounting neatly. He drew his sword and knelt to hold it to Merrick's throat.
"Your sister said you were a fine General," Sahayl said calmly. "You seem a fool to me. Also a coward, to strike a woman so. The Sands and Tavamara attempted to make peace with you, and in return you toss sand in our faces. So be it."
Sahayl called out to Wafai, never looking away from the man he had pinned to the sand. All around him he heard the gasps as Merrick's men took in the sudden change in their situation.
He did not have to look up to know that Ghost and all those who had joined them had surrounded Merrick's men, seeming to have come from nowhere – as though they were phantoms in the Desert.
"I offer you one last chance, heathen," Sahayl said. "Take the peace we offer, or make of the Desert a true enemy."
"Savage," Merrick said coldly.
"So be it," Sahayl said softly, then reached down and grabbed hold of Merrick, hauling him up then shoving him back into the arms of the soldiers who'd come to his defense. "You may try to fight us here, but you would lose. We are, as you say, savages. You have declared yourself our enemy. More importantly, you have angered me." He mounted his horse again, letting Bahadur draw protectively close. On his hand, the ring bestowed upon him by Shahjahan flashed in the sun. "By angering me, you have angered my brother, his Majesty King Shahjahan of Tavamara and the Great Desert. Go now before we show you what we do to enemies."
He hefted his sword again as Merrick made to speak to Cordelia. "She is no longer your concern," Sahayl said, staring into Merrick's eyes as he spoke. "It is obvious to me heathens do not know how to treat their sacred daughters. You have rejected all claim to her, and as she is my future wife I forbid you speak to her, except by my princess's leave."
"You can't just—"
"Yes, I can," Sahayl said. "I am a savage. What we want – we take. Wafai."
Wafai immediately complied, moving quickly, barking out orders to the soldiers surrounding the heathens, moving into command as Sahayl let the other lead him away.
He stood tersely in front of his assembled soldiers, hand tight on the hilt of his sword, as slowly but surely the heathens withdrew. Sahayl did not move until they were well out of sight.
Slowly he released a pent up breath.
"Sahayl…"
He looked up sharply at the soft, hesitant voice. "Yes, my princess?"
Cordelia looked near to tears, but did not shed them. Beside her, Rook held fast to her hand. "There is no reason to marry me when all that made me useful has disowned me."
"The sands are ever shifting," Sahayl replied calmly. "That aside, Princess…I meant what I said. If the heathens are too stupid to keep you, then the Sands will take you and gladly. If you are still amenable."
"Yes," Cordelia replied softly, smiling, and not even the bruise on her cheek could mar it.
"Sandstorm Prince," Jabbar said, coming toward him with Zulfiqar. "What went wrong?"
Sahayl's shook his head. "Heathens are heathens, and refuse to listen to reason."
Rook sighed. "Sadly, I cannot argue."
"Come," Sahayl said. "We must—"
His words were cut off by a shout from his men and he turned his horse to stare in fascination at the figure galloping toward them.
"What is it with heathen women?" Bahadur asked nearby.
Before Sahayl could make a reply to that – before he could figure out what his reply should be – Cordelia bolted toward the figure with a startled, unmistakably happy cry. He motioned to Wafai for the men to stand down, and chased after his bride, Bahadur close.
The woman was the oddest he'd ever seen – her skin was so dark a brown it seemed nearly ebony. The skirt she wore was split up either side and fell to her ankles, beneath it was a skirt of a lighter color. She also wore a strange sleeveless tunic the same vibrant red of the split skirt. Her hair was as dark as her skin, done in what seemed like hundreds of tiny braids, the end of each sporting a vibrant red bead.
Cordelia embraced the woman tightly, and their words carried over the desert, a strange rapid tongue Sahayl did not recognize.
"A barbarian," Rook explained. "She comes from one of the colonies belonging to Havarin. There, women are expected to fight like men – she has taught the Princess much of those barbaric ways."
Sahayl's brows went up at that. Women who fought like men? "Heathens grow stranger the more I know about them."
Rook laughed. "It might surprise you to know that on this continent at least, the wild savages of the desert are the most whispered about. You confuse everyone."
"That works in our favor," Sahayl said. He started to say more, but stopped as Cordelia and the strange woman drew close.
"My Sandstorm Prince, this is my bodyguard and closest friend, Fumnanya. She has been with me since we were children."
Sahayl bowed. "Talasa, companion of my princess. I wish you were welcomed to the Sands under better circumstances."
Fumnanya abruptly dropped to one knee in the sand. "Salata, Sandstorm Prince of the Great Desert of Tavamara." She looked up, eyes as dark as her skin and hair. "You are to be husband to my princess?"
"Yes," Sahayl said.
"You will take care of her."
Sahayl nodded, pleased to see that this was a true protector indeed. "Upon my life."
"I will take it should you fail to do so."
Again Sahayl nodded, but this time said nothing.
Fumnanya stood. "If I am to stay close to my princess, and if she is to be your princess, then I am to be a concubine, yes?"
"Yes," Sahayl said, smiling at the way his future wife flushed.
"Very well then, you may consider me her concubine."
Bahadur chuckled from behind him. "I sense she and Shihab will get along."
"Only if I am foolish enough to let them meet," Sahayl replied. He moved back to Blood Moon and mounted. "We go." He motioned to Wafai and two other sheiks, who would see that there way was protected, ensure that no one would find them in the Desert.
They rode hard, barely stopping long enough to join up with the camp where Isra and Shihab had waited to hear news. He updated them on their brief pauses to rest, for otherwise they traveled too hard to speak.
Several days hard travel saw them back at the palace, with no sign of the enemy on their trail.
"See my future wife is tended," Sahayl told the first man he saw. He handed his horse off to a Spider who stepped forward, and strode into the palace, his people around him.
Several hours later all matters had been tended to, and Sahayl finally allowed himself to feel tired. He smiled at Isra, who had remained with him throughout. "Saa, desert rose. Do you think they would let me sleep for a month straight?"
"You are our Sandstorm Prince," Isra replied. "If you want to sleep that long, by all means."
Sahayl laughed, and reached out to run his fingers through Isra's night-dark hair. "I do not think I could, though it sounds nice. I would get bored."
Isra smirked and closed the space between them. "You could simply stay in bed. I am sure your harem would keep you from boredom."
He could help but shiver, feeling his cheeks heat. "Tempting, my desert rose. You have always been that."
Isra kissed him, all but climbing into his lap, and Sahayl could not believe that he would be so brazen in a place where anyone might chance upon them – but from the first, Isra had affected him like no other.
"Come rest, Sahayl," Isra said when the kiss finally ended. "Bahadur and Shihab went ahead to prepare things for you. Dinner, wine…" Another slow, hot kiss. It made him ache more than ever. "Time to relax. I am certain tomorrow you will be harassed to death again."
Sahayl laughed and slowly nudged him away so they could stand, and Isra was all but dragging him along, scowling at anyone who tried to stop them.
He still was not used to the lavishness of his room. That he had so much space to himself, including a bath that would shortly be ready for filling. Such wicked luxury in the middle of the Desert – but his protests had been summarily ignored and overridden.
The sight before him caught his breath, and not for the first time Sahayl wondered when he would finally wake from this dream in which he'd found himself.
Food and wine covered the low table in the living space of his room. On two sides sat Bahadur and Shihab – dressed traditionally, though their pants and wrap were a deep brown rather than the black worn only by the harems of the King and Queen.
Behind him he heard the rustling of fabric, and turned to see Isra quickly donning the pants and wrap. He was almost afraid to reach out and touch when Isra approached him again, dusky skin almost glowing in the candlelight. "Desert rose…is this truly the life you want?" He turned to the other two. "All of you?"
"Stop asking stupid questions," Isra said, and reached up to kiss him hard.
Barely had that kiss ended when Sahayl found himself being kissed again – this time by Bahadur, and he was still gasping for breath from that kiss when Shihab took one of his own.
"Come and eat before it gets cold," Shihab said, and led the way back to the table.
Sahayl followed, Isra still at his side, the taste of his lovers lingering on his lips. He licked them slowly, and it made him ache all the more. It could not be real, all that had happened. Free of his father, Tribes were no longer fighting…he was a royal prince, a thought to which he would never grow accustomed.
He stole a kiss from Isra as they finally sat, needing the very real sensation of lips moving against his, hands smoothing over his body, hot even through the fabric of his clothes, the feel of warm skin beneath his own fingers. "Desert rose."
Isra smirked. "You are looking rather dazed, my Sandstorm Prince. Perhaps we should not give you any wine."
Sahayl laughed, sipping the wine that Isra held up anyway. "I feel rather more swept up in a sandstorm myself." He looked at the men around him, the room in which they sat, pondering all those simple things meant. "Saa, it is not so bad a thing to be."
Epilogue
"I suppose being ignored is better than being attacked," Sahayl said with a sigh. "However, it is not peace."
Rook shrugged. "Matters such as these take time, Highness. We were in talks with Havarin for nearly three decades before they would even consider our trade requests. Diplomacy is a slow and usually painful process. It speaks well for you indeed that his Majesty leaves the bulk of it in your hand, and Gollen realizes this. Lavarre and Hadge are being far more stubborn, but when we eventually make an ally of Gollen they will have little choice but to start negotiations of their own. That Gollen ignores us speaks well indeed."
Sahayl nodded. "As you say." He set his papers down with a sigh, and gratefully accepted the wine Bahadur held to his lips. They sat out in his private garden, working beneath the shade of plants he felt horribly spoiled for even having – but as usual, no one listened to him in such matters. If he sent men to take care of a border scuffle he was instantly obeyed. If he said he did not want a fancy garden, it was ready by the next day.
He sipped more wine and smiled as Bahadur finished it, feeling the fingers that lightly stroked his thigh beneath the table. Evil. He looked away, ignoring the unsubtle gesture, playing along.
"So what else can you suggest, Rook?"
Rook pushed back his curls, always hopeless in the heat, and bent over the various documents on the table, pointing and explaining, jotting down notes and translations of various things.
All the while Bahadur continued to gently tease him, and it was far more aggravating than it would be with Shihab or Isra, because he expected such behavior of those two – Bahadur was ruining his concentration one light touch at a time.
The sound of movement at the edge of the garden distracted him, and as they all realized who had arrived Bahadur removed his hand, smiling briefly before moving well out of the way.
A bundle of energy bolted across the garden and threw itself into Sahayl's lap. "Papa!"
Sahayl smiled. "Oh, I see you are getting better at your mother's language. Did you finish your lessons, Nazih?"
Nazih beamed, a trace of the almond sweets he'd just finished eating still on his mouth. Sahayl wiped the crumbs away and settled his son in his lap as Nazih began to talk at a quick, scattered pace, often switching topics mid-sentence but lively and animated.
When he finally paused for a breath, Sahayl took a moment to drink the wine Bahadur held out for him.
Cordelia chuckled softly from where she sat beside Rook. "I know you are working, but he insisted on coming to see you."
Sahayl smiled at her. "Of course I do not mind. We were ready for a break, anyway."
"Oh! Papa! Can we go on Moon?"
"Later," Sahayl said. "It is too hot right now."
Nazih pouted and started to protest, but Cordelia spoke up before he could. "Come now, darling, Kamil should be done with his lessons. You two can play and later papa will take you for a ride."
"Promise?" Nazih demanded.
Sahayl tugged on one of his dark brown curls. "Promise. Run along with your mother now."
A wet kiss was pressed to his cheek, then Nazih squirmed from his lap and bolted away. Sighing, shaking her head, Cordelia kissed Sahayl's cheek and then went after her son, trailed by a pale-haired woman from her harem.
Rook gathered up all the papers, arranging them into neat piles. "I will return these to the office, unless your Highness wants to continue?"
"No," Sahayl said. "We can speak more about it this evening, perhaps. For now, the heat demands we rest. Thank you for your assistance, Rook."
"My pleasure. Mind, body, soul." Sweeping a low bow, Rook departed.
Bahadur's hand curled around his thigh, immediately resuming the mischief from before. "Would my Prince like to rest here in the garden, or return to his room?"
"Room," Sahayl said, just managing to get the word out before Bahadur kissed him deeply. He moaned softly, wrapping himself around his strong warhorse, worries and strains of the day soothed away as only his men could do.
Bahadur lapped lazily at his lips. "If we go back to your rooms, I fear you will not get much rest at all. Isra and Shihab will likely already be there."
"I know," Sahayl said, nearly distracted from what he wanted to say by the clever hand caressing him through the fabric of his robes. He was tired, true, but he would much rather spend a free hour with his men – and Isra still owed him a prize after losing at taaki last night. Bahadur still owed Shihab a prize.
It would make for a very interesting afternoon indeed.
Twenty-Six
Bloodmoon stamped restlessly in the sand, and further troubled Sahayl by ignoring his silent command to hold still by giving one last hard, defiant stamp before finally settling.
His horse had been trained to perfection. Bloodmoon did not move restlessly when stillness was required, nor did he ever defy – without cause. If his horse was sufficiently troubled by something in the air, then there was most definitely a betrayal looming. Sahayl looked askance at Wafai, who nodded almost imperceptibly before motioning briefly, efficiently, to Noor and Kahlil. Ghosts needed no words to communicate. He felt the change in mood, energy, as words of caution were spread through the lines.
In the end, he had decided to take twelve Sheiks and their best men, about fifty to every Sheik, with him to the border of the Desert.
Gollen had sent a relatively positive reply – not outright agreement, but a willingness to more properly discuss matters. They also wanted to ascertain Princess Cordelia and Prince Rook were truly all right. More than fair.
Several yards away, just beyond the border of the Great Desert, a force to match his own waited calmly. Slightly in front of the gathered heathens was a man who, even at a distance, bore a strong resemblance to Princess Cordelia. The same gold hair, the same slightly crooked nose…and the set of his shoulders hinted at the same forthrightness Cordelia had already exhibited.
He looked to the princess, who sat calmly astride a desert mare, staring pensively at her brethren across the field. "Thoughts, my Princess?" Sahayl asked quietly. He looked to her left. "Prince Rook?"
Rook snorted. "I did not expect them to send Merrick."
"That is the one who resembles you?" Sahayl asked.
"Yes," Cordelia said. "The second of my three brothers." She frowned. "Though he is an excellent General, my father seldom risks him."
Bahadur grunted from Sahayl's right. "Then it strikes me as promising that he is here."
"I wonder what Shihab would say," Sahayl murmured, and wished his shadowfire was here – but he had chosen to hold Shihab and Isra back, on the chance that something went wrong. They he could trust implicitly to see to matters.
The day was a clear one, and Sahayl hoped that meant the Lady was showing her favor. It could mean other things, but he preferred not to dwell upon those possibilities though they lurked at the back of his mind.
Across the field, Prince Merrick and the men with him moved slowly forward. Sahayl motioned briefly to his men, then moved forward with Bahadur, Wafai, Cordelia and Rook. Beneath him, Bloodmoon was still restless and impatient. Sahayl wished badly to touch his sword in comfort, but such a gesture would not lend itself well to his professions of peace.
"Merrick," Cordelia greeted as they drew close, and started to perform introductions when her brother cut her off with a sharp motion.
Prince Merrick regarded them coolly. "Cordelia. Father expects you to cease this foolishness at once." He turned to regard Sahayl. "You are the Sandstorm about whom we've lately been hearing so much?"
Sahayl started to speak, but on either side of him Wafai and Cordelia launched into angry protestations, voices drowned out only by Rook bellowing for silence.
"Merrick, what are you talking about?" Rook demanded. "Why is his Majesty bidding her return? This arrangement is perfect for Gollen."
"You should perhaps have stayed in your seas," Merrick said coldly. "His Majesty has turned down the idea of marrying his daughter to an uncouth, untrustworthy savage."
"Then why attend this meeting at all?" Sahayl asked, meeting the cold heathen's eyes easily. Dark green eyes, nothing half so beautiful as Shihab's.
"We are retrieving her Highness, of course. She is elsewhere betrothed and her future husband is not pleased by her recent behavior."
Sahayl very nearly jumped as Cordelia seemed to all but explode beside him. "What!" She howled, shaking with rage. "I refused that bastard Jason and I will have nothing to do with it. I would sooner slit my own wrists than be shunted off to that wasteland."
Merrick let out a sharp, barking laugh. "Yet you want us to let you wander off to play in these abominable sands?"
Looking at the man, listening to him, Sahayl was all too reminded why the Sands despised heathens. "You are here solely to take back the Princess?"
"I'm not going," Cordelia said fervently.
"Then you are to be disowned," Merrick said, expression hard. "Cordelia, we are working too hard to let your damned impetuous ways ruin everything. Come home at once, or come home never again. Your cousin will do as well as you, in the matter of marriage, though of course we would prefer to have you."
Sahayl hissed at the cold words, fury growing at the ashen look that had taken over Cordelia's face.
Rook's voice whipped out, containing an icy fury he'd never heard from the strange heathen. "Merrick – what are you about? Lavarre and Hadge are not reliable. They will stab us in the back the first chance we get."
"Not if we stab them first," Merrick replied. "All we need from them is the favor Hadge has gained from Havarin."
Rook threw his head back and laughed, long and loud – but it wasn't a pleasant sound. Sahayl wondered what was truly going on, that they were both still speaking the language of the Sands when this was clearly something he should not be hearing.
Unless…hearing it was meant to dissuade him from his course.
Sahayl barely kept from showing his contempt at that notion – were this exclusively a Desert matter, Merrick's head would already be rolling in the sand. Lady spare him from dealing with heathens ever again after this.
"Havarin?" Rook said contemptuously. "Is that his Majesty's grand plan? To slip into Havarin's favor by way of Hadge? Havarin is the only country in the world stronger than Tavamara, and we have been failing to conquer Tavamara for longer than anyone can remember. Do you honestly think Havarin will ever deign to notice us when she never has before, nevermind assist in the conquering of Tavamara. Your father is not thinking!"
Merrick said nothing, merely continued to regard him coldly. Somehow, Sahayl thought, the traits that made the Princess beautiful and Rook intriguing…did nothing for Merrick.
"Saa," Sahayl said softly, "I had high hopes for this day. All for nothing, it would seem. Is there no chance of persuading you toward peace? The Sands seek to end the bloodshed which has reigned for countless years. We come in earnest to offer peace, and are more than willing to be generous in the negotiations." Not that generous, but so long as the heathens stayed out of the Desert and away from Tavamara when this was over, he could afford to be lenient in other matters, or so Shah had informed him in their last correspondence.
This being a Prince was difficult, and Sahayl felt woefully inadequate, especially up against a man who clearly held no such qualms – but he was the Sandstorm Prince of the Great Desert of Tavamara. He would accomplish what he'd come here to do.
One way or the other.
Merrick gave him an apologetic look that Sahayl would believe right after he believed Isra could go a day without losing his temper. "We are deeply honored by the Great Desert's offer of peace. Alas, we are not yet inclined to trust the words of blood-soaked savages. Cordelia, come at once. Rook."
"No," Rook said softly, looking miserable but determined. "I will not follow a man as foolish as your father is proving to be. I have done so long enough. I will no longer."
"Fine," Merrick said. "You are hereby tripped of all titles, your citizenship, and declared an enemy of Gollen. Cordelia – now. I will not tell you again."
Cordelia matched his ice with fire. "I hope that arrogance chokes you one day, Merrick. What is this really about? I cannot believe – would you please see reason? Are you getting a throne of your own out of this, is that what this is really about?"
In a burst of movement, Merrick lunged forward and backhanded her hard. Sahayl rippled with shock – then acted out of rage as he saw the lurid mark on Cordelia's cheek, the blood on her lips. He reached out and snatched the fabric of Merrick's odd robe, hauling the man off his horse, then dismounting neatly. He drew his sword and knelt to hold it to Merrick's throat.
"Your sister said you were a fine General," Sahayl said calmly. "You seem a fool to me. Also a coward, to strike a woman so. The Sands and Tavamara attempted to make peace with you, and in return you toss sand in our faces. So be it."
Sahayl called out to Wafai, never looking away from the man he had pinned to the sand. All around him he heard the gasps as Merrick's men took in the sudden change in their situation.
He did not have to look up to know that Ghost and all those who had joined them had surrounded Merrick's men, seeming to have come from nowhere – as though they were phantoms in the Desert.
"I offer you one last chance, heathen," Sahayl said. "Take the peace we offer, or make of the Desert a true enemy."
"Savage," Merrick said coldly.
"So be it," Sahayl said softly, then reached down and grabbed hold of Merrick, hauling him up then shoving him back into the arms of the soldiers who'd come to his defense. "You may try to fight us here, but you would lose. We are, as you say, savages. You have declared yourself our enemy. More importantly, you have angered me." He mounted his horse again, letting Bahadur draw protectively close. On his hand, the ring bestowed upon him by Shahjahan flashed in the sun. "By angering me, you have angered my brother, his Majesty King Shahjahan of Tavamara and the Great Desert. Go now before we show you what we do to enemies."
He hefted his sword again as Merrick made to speak to Cordelia. "She is no longer your concern," Sahayl said, staring into Merrick's eyes as he spoke. "It is obvious to me heathens do not know how to treat their sacred daughters. You have rejected all claim to her, and as she is my future wife I forbid you speak to her, except by my princess's leave."
"You can't just—"
"Yes, I can," Sahayl said. "I am a savage. What we want – we take. Wafai."
Wafai immediately complied, moving quickly, barking out orders to the soldiers surrounding the heathens, moving into command as Sahayl let the other lead him away.
He stood tersely in front of his assembled soldiers, hand tight on the hilt of his sword, as slowly but surely the heathens withdrew. Sahayl did not move until they were well out of sight.
Slowly he released a pent up breath.
"Sahayl…"
He looked up sharply at the soft, hesitant voice. "Yes, my princess?"
Cordelia looked near to tears, but did not shed them. Beside her, Rook held fast to her hand. "There is no reason to marry me when all that made me useful has disowned me."
"The sands are ever shifting," Sahayl replied calmly. "That aside, Princess…I meant what I said. If the heathens are too stupid to keep you, then the Sands will take you and gladly. If you are still amenable."
"Yes," Cordelia replied softly, smiling, and not even the bruise on her cheek could mar it.
"Sandstorm Prince," Jabbar said, coming toward him with Zulfiqar. "What went wrong?"
Sahayl's shook his head. "Heathens are heathens, and refuse to listen to reason."
Rook sighed. "Sadly, I cannot argue."
"Come," Sahayl said. "We must—"
His words were cut off by a shout from his men and he turned his horse to stare in fascination at the figure galloping toward them.
"What is it with heathen women?" Bahadur asked nearby.
Before Sahayl could make a reply to that – before he could figure out what his reply should be – Cordelia bolted toward the figure with a startled, unmistakably happy cry. He motioned to Wafai for the men to stand down, and chased after his bride, Bahadur close.
The woman was the oddest he'd ever seen – her skin was so dark a brown it seemed nearly ebony. The skirt she wore was split up either side and fell to her ankles, beneath it was a skirt of a lighter color. She also wore a strange sleeveless tunic the same vibrant red of the split skirt. Her hair was as dark as her skin, done in what seemed like hundreds of tiny braids, the end of each sporting a vibrant red bead.
Cordelia embraced the woman tightly, and their words carried over the desert, a strange rapid tongue Sahayl did not recognize.
"A barbarian," Rook explained. "She comes from one of the colonies belonging to Havarin. There, women are expected to fight like men – she has taught the Princess much of those barbaric ways."
Sahayl's brows went up at that. Women who fought like men? "Heathens grow stranger the more I know about them."
Rook laughed. "It might surprise you to know that on this continent at least, the wild savages of the desert are the most whispered about. You confuse everyone."
"That works in our favor," Sahayl said. He started to say more, but stopped as Cordelia and the strange woman drew close.
"My Sandstorm Prince, this is my bodyguard and closest friend, Fumnanya. She has been with me since we were children."
Sahayl bowed. "Talasa, companion of my princess. I wish you were welcomed to the Sands under better circumstances."
Fumnanya abruptly dropped to one knee in the sand. "Salata, Sandstorm Prince of the Great Desert of Tavamara." She looked up, eyes as dark as her skin and hair. "You are to be husband to my princess?"
"Yes," Sahayl said.
"You will take care of her."
Sahayl nodded, pleased to see that this was a true protector indeed. "Upon my life."
"I will take it should you fail to do so."
Again Sahayl nodded, but this time said nothing.
Fumnanya stood. "If I am to stay close to my princess, and if she is to be your princess, then I am to be a concubine, yes?"
"Yes," Sahayl said, smiling at the way his future wife flushed.
"Very well then, you may consider me her concubine."
Bahadur chuckled from behind him. "I sense she and Shihab will get along."
"Only if I am foolish enough to let them meet," Sahayl replied. He moved back to Blood Moon and mounted. "We go." He motioned to Wafai and two other sheiks, who would see that there way was protected, ensure that no one would find them in the Desert.
They rode hard, barely stopping long enough to join up with the camp where Isra and Shihab had waited to hear news. He updated them on their brief pauses to rest, for otherwise they traveled too hard to speak.
Several days hard travel saw them back at the palace, with no sign of the enemy on their trail.
"See my future wife is tended," Sahayl told the first man he saw. He handed his horse off to a Spider who stepped forward, and strode into the palace, his people around him.
Several hours later all matters had been tended to, and Sahayl finally allowed himself to feel tired. He smiled at Isra, who had remained with him throughout. "Saa, desert rose. Do you think they would let me sleep for a month straight?"
"You are our Sandstorm Prince," Isra replied. "If you want to sleep that long, by all means."
Sahayl laughed, and reached out to run his fingers through Isra's night-dark hair. "I do not think I could, though it sounds nice. I would get bored."
Isra smirked and closed the space between them. "You could simply stay in bed. I am sure your harem would keep you from boredom."
He could help but shiver, feeling his cheeks heat. "Tempting, my desert rose. You have always been that."
Isra kissed him, all but climbing into his lap, and Sahayl could not believe that he would be so brazen in a place where anyone might chance upon them – but from the first, Isra had affected him like no other.
"Come rest, Sahayl," Isra said when the kiss finally ended. "Bahadur and Shihab went ahead to prepare things for you. Dinner, wine…" Another slow, hot kiss. It made him ache more than ever. "Time to relax. I am certain tomorrow you will be harassed to death again."
Sahayl laughed and slowly nudged him away so they could stand, and Isra was all but dragging him along, scowling at anyone who tried to stop them.
He still was not used to the lavishness of his room. That he had so much space to himself, including a bath that would shortly be ready for filling. Such wicked luxury in the middle of the Desert – but his protests had been summarily ignored and overridden.
The sight before him caught his breath, and not for the first time Sahayl wondered when he would finally wake from this dream in which he'd found himself.
Food and wine covered the low table in the living space of his room. On two sides sat Bahadur and Shihab – dressed traditionally, though their pants and wrap were a deep brown rather than the black worn only by the harems of the King and Queen.
Behind him he heard the rustling of fabric, and turned to see Isra quickly donning the pants and wrap. He was almost afraid to reach out and touch when Isra approached him again, dusky skin almost glowing in the candlelight. "Desert rose…is this truly the life you want?" He turned to the other two. "All of you?"
"Stop asking stupid questions," Isra said, and reached up to kiss him hard.
Barely had that kiss ended when Sahayl found himself being kissed again – this time by Bahadur, and he was still gasping for breath from that kiss when Shihab took one of his own.
"Come and eat before it gets cold," Shihab said, and led the way back to the table.
Sahayl followed, Isra still at his side, the taste of his lovers lingering on his lips. He licked them slowly, and it made him ache all the more. It could not be real, all that had happened. Free of his father, Tribes were no longer fighting…he was a royal prince, a thought to which he would never grow accustomed.
He stole a kiss from Isra as they finally sat, needing the very real sensation of lips moving against his, hands smoothing over his body, hot even through the fabric of his clothes, the feel of warm skin beneath his own fingers. "Desert rose."
Isra smirked. "You are looking rather dazed, my Sandstorm Prince. Perhaps we should not give you any wine."
Sahayl laughed, sipping the wine that Isra held up anyway. "I feel rather more swept up in a sandstorm myself." He looked at the men around him, the room in which they sat, pondering all those simple things meant. "Saa, it is not so bad a thing to be."
Epilogue
"I suppose being ignored is better than being attacked," Sahayl said with a sigh. "However, it is not peace."
Rook shrugged. "Matters such as these take time, Highness. We were in talks with Havarin for nearly three decades before they would even consider our trade requests. Diplomacy is a slow and usually painful process. It speaks well for you indeed that his Majesty leaves the bulk of it in your hand, and Gollen realizes this. Lavarre and Hadge are being far more stubborn, but when we eventually make an ally of Gollen they will have little choice but to start negotiations of their own. That Gollen ignores us speaks well indeed."
Sahayl nodded. "As you say." He set his papers down with a sigh, and gratefully accepted the wine Bahadur held to his lips. They sat out in his private garden, working beneath the shade of plants he felt horribly spoiled for even having – but as usual, no one listened to him in such matters. If he sent men to take care of a border scuffle he was instantly obeyed. If he said he did not want a fancy garden, it was ready by the next day.
He sipped more wine and smiled as Bahadur finished it, feeling the fingers that lightly stroked his thigh beneath the table. Evil. He looked away, ignoring the unsubtle gesture, playing along.
"So what else can you suggest, Rook?"
Rook pushed back his curls, always hopeless in the heat, and bent over the various documents on the table, pointing and explaining, jotting down notes and translations of various things.
All the while Bahadur continued to gently tease him, and it was far more aggravating than it would be with Shihab or Isra, because he expected such behavior of those two – Bahadur was ruining his concentration one light touch at a time.
The sound of movement at the edge of the garden distracted him, and as they all realized who had arrived Bahadur removed his hand, smiling briefly before moving well out of the way.
A bundle of energy bolted across the garden and threw itself into Sahayl's lap. "Papa!"
Sahayl smiled. "Oh, I see you are getting better at your mother's language. Did you finish your lessons, Nazih?"
Nazih beamed, a trace of the almond sweets he'd just finished eating still on his mouth. Sahayl wiped the crumbs away and settled his son in his lap as Nazih began to talk at a quick, scattered pace, often switching topics mid-sentence but lively and animated.
When he finally paused for a breath, Sahayl took a moment to drink the wine Bahadur held out for him.
Cordelia chuckled softly from where she sat beside Rook. "I know you are working, but he insisted on coming to see you."
Sahayl smiled at her. "Of course I do not mind. We were ready for a break, anyway."
"Oh! Papa! Can we go on Moon?"
"Later," Sahayl said. "It is too hot right now."
Nazih pouted and started to protest, but Cordelia spoke up before he could. "Come now, darling, Kamil should be done with his lessons. You two can play and later papa will take you for a ride."
"Promise?" Nazih demanded.
Sahayl tugged on one of his dark brown curls. "Promise. Run along with your mother now."
A wet kiss was pressed to his cheek, then Nazih squirmed from his lap and bolted away. Sighing, shaking her head, Cordelia kissed Sahayl's cheek and then went after her son, trailed by a pale-haired woman from her harem.
Rook gathered up all the papers, arranging them into neat piles. "I will return these to the office, unless your Highness wants to continue?"
"No," Sahayl said. "We can speak more about it this evening, perhaps. For now, the heat demands we rest. Thank you for your assistance, Rook."
"My pleasure. Mind, body, soul." Sweeping a low bow, Rook departed.
Bahadur's hand curled around his thigh, immediately resuming the mischief from before. "Would my Prince like to rest here in the garden, or return to his room?"
"Room," Sahayl said, just managing to get the word out before Bahadur kissed him deeply. He moaned softly, wrapping himself around his strong warhorse, worries and strains of the day soothed away as only his men could do.
Bahadur lapped lazily at his lips. "If we go back to your rooms, I fear you will not get much rest at all. Isra and Shihab will likely already be there."
"I know," Sahayl said, nearly distracted from what he wanted to say by the clever hand caressing him through the fabric of his robes. He was tired, true, but he would much rather spend a free hour with his men – and Isra still owed him a prize after losing at taaki last night. Bahadur still owed Shihab a prize.
It would make for a very interesting afternoon indeed.
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Date: 2007-09-17 02:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 02:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 03:08 am (UTC)(I loved this, of course!)
Doesn't Sugar and Spice come next? Because the wars still need to be tied up, right? Or... I'm so confused... I'll figure it out later. Maybe I'm just tired...
I thought there was going to be an actual battle for some reason... It felt like before Chapter 26...
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Date: 2007-09-17 05:37 am (UTC)Anyway, I'll stop my senseless babble. Wonderful work!
Post-script: Ah, I found your lj through your site, recommended to me by a friend, just in case you're creeped out this perfect stranger has suddenly popped out of the woodwork. I swear, though, I'm just your average rabid fan. ^^
no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 07:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-18 02:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 07:37 am (UTC)You're going to bust your hearing if you induce this much screaming in this many people all at once, sweetheart.
(And I assure you the "SQUEE" above there is actually translated to a lot of hysterical "EEEEEEE"ing in real life. *cough* I just can't actually type when I'm doing that so the typing is translated to something a lot tamer.)
*glompstackleslooooooooooves*
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Date: 2007-09-17 11:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 02:24 pm (UTC)I love you. <3
More to come later.
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Date: 2007-09-17 02:47 pm (UTC)WOW
Date: 2007-09-17 05:42 pm (UTC)Rose Red
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Date: 2007-09-17 09:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 10:07 pm (UTC)Sandstorm is perfect. I love it. I shall try to draw fanart for you when I get a spare minute. *squee*
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Date: 2007-09-23 01:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-14 01:39 pm (UTC)I do so love Sandstorm. I don't know these ideas of yours come from, but I am so happy that you snatched this one up as it wandered by. This was a lovely end, to match with the wonderful story, though I am as sad as I am happy. But, already a drabble and a side story, and S&S or its eventual children may revisit the Sands someday, so I will focus on the happy. ^___^
I love that Rook and Cordelia stood up so well for themselves, and I love even more Sahayl defending Cordelia, even knowing that she is good at holding her own. They are a good match, those two. And Fumnanya fits right in to the family, too.^^ And now a baby, too! Lucky babe, to have so many adoring parental figures. ^___^
I look forward to any other stories from this 'verse, and all the many times I plan to re-read it over the course of my life.^_^