Dead Girls Tell No Tales

t w e n t y - e i g h t

SHAHRAZAD FINDS HIM IN the gardens, between slews of roses that blush in shades of red. A moonlit night sighs from the lashes of thin clouds, and he tends to the flowers underneath them. 

The guards had reluctantly informed her of his location, leading her to believe that he had expected her and wanted to avoid her all the same.

For brief moments, she stands in the quiet of it all, watching him silently. Fittingly, he is dressed in obsidian robes, blending in with the dark. As a silver-tongued storyteller, she reads him in tales of grief, of misfortunes and despair. From a boy with an abusive father to a cursed man, and finally a beastly King. 

Perhaps she should trust her better judgement, steal from him any chance of redemption. The delicacy of a rose in his fingers does not outweigh the blood on his hands.

But the Queen discards those inhibitions as she walks towards him, the ends of her clothing brushing against the flora, rustling under the pressure of her feet. "I heard."

His movements still, and his fists draw back slowly, signalling the guards to leave, to allow them the comfort of space. 

Clearing her throat, she repeats, "I heard that you are splitting the kingdom into halves, one for Anwar to rule?"

"You heard right," Shahryar adresses her finally, compelling gaze unmoving from hers. "Though I wonder who told you."

"Laleh," she answers. The former handmaiden had seized her shoulders when she was attempting to find the King, mistaking it as her departure from her palace, and filing her on his decisions. 

He folds his arms, the long, soot-coloured sleeves draping around his frame. "Unsurprisingly."

When she says nothing and the pause stretches endlessly, he continues, "There has been a rebellion once and there might be more to come, so all the areas wherein the women were taken from are to be under Anwar's jurisdiction."

"Of course," Shahrazad mutters. "Khalifa, admitting that you care for your brother is not a weakness."

"It is going to be daybreak. Why are you awake at this hour?" He sighs, tilting his head backwards to the moon, aristrocratic features touched by the shimmering light. "What are you here for, Malika?"

"To tell you a tale," she whispers softly. "If you will have it."

The cadence of his breath hitches, and he brings his eyes to her face, hair a wreath of pale silver and inky night. His lips slip into a smile, half hidden by the shadow under his jawline. "A tale from my Queen is never unwanted." 

His demeanour is a mixture of calm and rigidity, but when she closes in the distance separating them, apprehension flickers in his stance. "This is an extremely short story," she begins, tucking her haphazardly shorn hair behind her ears. "I recall narrating to you the tale of the girl who fell in love with murderous King, but I never told you of what happened after."

"I remember being enamoured by the selflessness of the girl," Shahryar says, fingers tracing a path up the slope of her neck, tipping her chin gently. "For who could ever learn to love a beast?"

"She risked everything for this man, standing against her principles and those of the ones she loved, putting aside matters of the mind for her heart. It was a dangerous affair, the one she was partaking in. Day after day, she strategised the war. Night after night, she spun tales."

In that moment, with the stars showering its enchantment on them, it feels as though a thousand and one nights have passed. Then Shahryar is leaning forward, pushing her hair behind her neck to whisper, "And has she ever wondered why it was so easy to slip by the numerous guards stationed along the length of the palace to devise plans?"

Her widened eyes search his expression first, then narrow accusingly. "You knew."

"All along," he completes, laughing darkly, "As I have mentioned in the past, I am the Caliph, love."

"Well," she swallows. "She felt as if she had lost her mind, her sanity. Around her, the kingdom seemed like a realm of madness, an elaborate web of lies and treachery. She was unsure of who to trust. And suddenly, she had to pick sides. The girl chose her battle. She discarded her past for her present. She chose he who had been the cause of her sleepless nights. Yet, as she bartered her life for this man, physically and mentally breaking down and losing her father in the process, going as far as slaying someone she had known all her life—"

Shahrazad's nostrils flare as she continues, glare raking over him.
"– this man has the nerve to push her away for the sake of his previous lack of conscience."

Startled, he steps behind, staring at her for a prolonged time and somehow, it seems that in all these days and nights, he has never seen her. And when he does, she sees it too; the guilt, the conflict, the longing.

His eyes outshine the dusty wonder of the stars. "And?"

"She is adamant and finds it absurd that he has forced her to make a choice. She fought for him, yet he refuses to fight for her. He thinks he can rid himself of her, but alas, the otherwise cunning King has a flaw, a weakness."

"What would that be, love?" His voice is smooth, trailing a kiss down her spine.

The night has dimmed, it is not daybreak but it tethers between the lazuli tones and the light skies of the morning, gradual and stunning in its transition. "Her."

Shahrazad steps even closer, diminishing any possible space, bathing in the twirling ribbons of dusk, in him. "As I am yours."

Bewilderment smooths his brows. "I believe she was to make a choice?" His hand settles on the small of her back, hair brushing her forehead, gaze trained on hers like sands of time wasting with every second. 

The warm colours of the heavens smudge the dark hues of the night, lining the edges of the skies at its leisurely pace. The intangible threads of fate weave another tale, one that does not weep and wane. 

It is a dawn that embraces a King and his Queen.
"She chose to stay."

a/n: i began writing dgtnt when i was going through a rough patch and wanted to escape into a fairytale. i'd never expected so many people reading it, but you all and your comments always made me smile, always made my day better. so really, thank you all SO, SO, SO much. thank you, all of you, for making my dull life better. i can never repay you all for the love and support, but i am so grateful for all of your existence. 

P.S: i started a new dark fantasy story based on the tale of rumplestiltskin, if you'd like to read.

much love,
asha x