Sikander, Don't Die

chapter fourteen: memories

These days the palace was more jubilant than ever before. Chaos occupied the kitchen at all times to serve the Shahamsaram her cravings. Fresh bouquets of flowers plucked from the garden made their way to her room. Sikander himself found time out of his busy schedule to meet Roshanak.

Nightly visits to Hridayank's room were put at a pause. The hazarahpatish wasn't ruined by the absence, or that was what he reminded himself. He had his own duties to do– roll out policies and oversee governance. Such things took most of his time. He engaged himself in the things of material significance. When all tasks were over, he went on to pinpoint loopholes in what was already perfect, and started all over again. This went on and on until it was time for dinner and then sleep.

Hridayank had begun to dread the night. It brought back memories of his youth, rather their youth. He reclined on a stack of pillows and reminisced the olden days.

Tracing back the memory lane, Hridayank was reliving the day he first met Sikander, then a prince always primly dressed. He had the smooth, blemish-less skin of a god and a glow akin to the moon. Honey dripped from his eyes. Sikander was already well-favoured in school when Hridayank had arrived with his burden, hands coated in blood and sin following him like a shadow. The prince was loved by all not just because he was a quick-learner, but also for his carefree attitude, blissfully ignorant of the royal heritage he possessed.

Contrary to that, Hridayank had been accused of killing an older boy. He knew he had done it in self-defense, for that boy, having his first signs of a beard, had thought of claiming Hridayank for himself. The beauty of the hazarahpatish was something both the sexes envied and admired. Perhaps beauty was indeed a curse, because when Hridayank had hit the boy in order to protect himself, it concluded in death.

That was the first time he had ever seen a corpse. It was his first kill, even before being a warrior-man, even before venturing into the battlefield.

The crime, as society labelled it, forced Hridayank's father to sent him on exile to Philip's place, who put him in school together with a few boys. Philip must have had seen something in Hridayank for him to send the latter to a school where only children of eminent families could go. Nevertheless, when Hridayank reached it, the students welcomed him with fear.

They skittered away from him, chary of sitting on the table together with the infamous culprit. Hridayank was always eating alone and playing by himself, until the day the merciful prince decided to shower him some attention– the royal-blooded boy wanted to share figs with him.

Initially, Hridayank was sceptical of the time the prince was giving him. He mistook it for some kind of fake humility or an extravagant show of benevolence. Hridayank didn't want pity, so he would try to run away from the prince. Soon, it was clear that the blond was not staying with him for petty political reasons, but out of some emotion Hridayank himself couldn't comprehend.

Sikander was a very lively boy. He mixed with Hridayank like there was no difference in their status and birth. The prince taught him many things, although Hridayank found himself staring at the prince most of the times. When he would be alone, he would daydream of the soft pink feet of the prince, the curve of his hipbone, the crook of his neck.

Things went out of hand when such thoughts caused a tingle between his thighs. Hridayank would allow his hand to wander down, and then return to class with a red face. If the prince asked him where he had been, he would lie. Sikander would narrow his eyes and try to have a peek of his best friend's feelings. Hridayank hoped he was hiding things well.

Until the day, when they were thirteen, and the prince thought a kiss was the perfect gift for his companion.

Hridayank smiled as he recalled the day. Sikander's lips were shaped like a plump bee coated in pollen. Even if he hadn't kissed before that day, he knew like an expert how to suck at the flesh.