[ WATTYS '18 LONG-LISTED ]
❝ I have slit throats far more beautiful than yours.❞
In which a thousand brides have fallen, and she is the last, so she spins a tale as old as time to live the dawn.
| an arabian nights x beauty and the beast crossover...
A/N: the wonderful banner above is by @CandyNymph it'shonestlybeautiful tysm <33
▪ ▪ ▪
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
SHAHRAZAD DOES NOT KNOW what to feel anymore as she gazes outside the windows, fingers tentatively running across the smooth wooden panels. She can glimpse the royal gardener fervently chopping the stems, the roots, the thorns of the rose bushes, severing them in the most haphazard fashion.
An unattended platter of food lies cold on the table, for her stomach is churning, a kind of nausea threatening to overwhelm her.
She buries her head against the curvature of her folded knees, and for the first time in a while, she starts sobbing. Everything she has knotted into the fissures of her heart cascades, flowing like the first showers of rain after an infinite drought.
The Queen has never led people, she has no true experiences of war, but her current predicament requires both.
She is the sun, tussling between burning a kingdom and vanquishing its darkness.
"Something troubling you, Malika?" This voice is distinctly different than the handmaiden's soft chimes, instead bordering on raspy. "It's been hours since I plated the food."
Not looking up, she breathes in muffled, choked verses. "No, Farha, you may leave."
Instead, the eunuch strides towards her, crouching to meet her form in a manner unanticipated, and unheard of the servants. "There is a war drawing closer, and the Malika is far from what I had hoped."
Shahrazad's wet lashes flutter, blinking tears that shine like stars in the strands of night. "I am not weak."
"Yet you weep behind the shadow of strength."
Farha takes her hands in a clutch that is firm, but breeds an uncertainty, a desperation as they almost crush her bones. "What do you know?"
The eunuch runs her gaze over the young face of the young Queen, and counts the days she has left, sighing. "I know too much, and too less."
She lets go, retracting her bruising grip slowly. "The death of the roses mean something, Malika."
Supporting herself using the wall, the eunuch pulls herself to her feet, eyes not moving from Shahrazad's, counting the days she has left.
Bangles shaking, Shahrazad jolts. "What does it mean?"
Farha stares at her, straight, unmoving, unblinking, and strange.
"It means that the King is going to die."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
