Touching the Sun
Chapter 1
Language of Flowers
"Your Majesty! Arslan!" Elam jogged after his king and best friend, hefting his bow back on to his shoulder, huffing as he tried to keep up with Arslan's long, enthusiastic strides. Arslan ushered Elam down low, blowing a strand of hair off his face and flashing him a bright grin. An ivory-tipped Sindhuran hunting bow rested on his back with its accompanying quiver, inlaid with gold carvings of eagles. Azrael soared high above, scouting for his master, Arslan also peeking over the hill and scanning the landscape for their quarry. A modest brown cloak lay across his shoulders, hiding the white embroidered tunic beneath, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal his muscular forearms. A breeze gusted across the valley, whipping up Arslan's long, loosely braided hair and the golden grass surrounding them on the hilltop, vast, rocky yellow plains stretching out to the horizons under blue skies. The young king had matured rapidly over the years following his coronation; while still slender and lithe, he had broadened out in his chest and face enough to give him some masculine charm. One could say he had become more handsome than pretty, though his platinum hair picked up the light in such as way that it shimmered with the same beautiful allure as his elegant jewellery, and his deep eyes had never lost the gentle, compassionate warmth of his childhood. If anything, the monarch had only grown more mischievous and youthful as he settled into his station, like a wilted flower blossoming into a bright daisy under the ray of peace and love from his friends. A wild rose that now stood eye-to-eye with Narsus, and slightly above the head of Elam, much to his mild vexation.
Arslan put a gloved finger to his lips, gesturing over the rise. "Chinkara Elam. Maybe eight of them."
Elam let out a sigh. "Arslan, you still haven't decided what festivities you would like to attend during tomorrow's celebration."
Arslan let out a childish groan, "Elam, it's not that big of a deal. You know I hate such a fuss being made over trivial things, there's truly no need for a formal occasion."
Elam tucked a hand into his hip and gave Arslan a scolding look. "It's the king's nineteenth birthday. A festival is expected; for all the nobles to pay respect, and also for you to socialise among influential families."
Arslan stuck his tongue at him. "Rushan is just going to take it as an opportunity to push more wives at me."
Elam raised his eyebrows,"Well you are still unmarried. You can't avoid it forever."
Arslan flailed a hand at him, shushing him. "I can and I shall Elam. I do not insist that you run off and immediately marry Aisha now do I?"
The page spluttered at the cheeky smirk directed his way. "We're not!-"
He pouted and tackled Arslan into the side of the hill, the king erupting into a fit of giggles, the ensuing juvenile tussle leaving them breathless with laughter and sore from the rock underfoot. Pinned underneath Elam, Arslan shielded his eyes from the bright midday sun overhead, giving his friend's head an affectionate pat where it lay on his chest, running his fingers through the shaggy brown hair.
"...I think I'm lying on my bow." Elam slowly rolled off him and climbed to his feet, brushing off the dirt and sticks from his clothes before reaching down and helping Arslan to his feet, similarly picking grass out of his silver hair.
"When we get back, do your work properly, ok?" Arslan laughed sheepishly. They turned back to the rise, peering over for their quarry.
"Ah, they left…"
They searched along the hilltops again, heading further into the rocky, forested plateaus, unwilling to return empty-handed. They paused on the edge, overlooking a herd of deer, when a huge snap echoed behind them, accompanied by beastial clamor. The two men slowly turned their heads in unison to look behind them, the grunting and snuffling revealing itself as a boar stomped its way out of the underbrush, thrashing its head angrily with a bellow. Fast as lightning Elam loosed an arrow into its hide, narrowly missing its eye and enraging it further. The boar charged and they scrambled up the rock face in panic. Arslan nervously swung his bow at it, trying to spook it, too close to have any room to draw an arrow. He could see Elam a short distance away, balanced on a boulder, nocking another arrow into his own bow and aiming at the boar again, only to have his head jerk to the side, distracted by something.
The boar roared at him again.
And a sword came plunging through its skull, quivering with the force it took to punch through bone. Arslan was frozen in shock, gasping for breath as he watched the boar slowly keel over with a thud. The hooded owner dug a boot into its back as they struggled to wriggle their sword out of its head, stumbling back as they pulled it free. Stabbing it into the earth, they leaned over their knees to catch their breath, seemingly just as flustered with the situation as them. A simple white cloak hid most of their features, underneath which Arslan could see plain brown pants and boots on a slender figure. They suddenly stood and stormed over to him, grabbing his collar with a gloved hand, and Arslan was met with a pair of piercing golden eyes. They looked him over up and down searchingly, before softening and gently letting him go.
"You never change I see." She lowered her hood to free her similarly golden hair, and Arslan's face slowly split into a wide smile, hands coming up to grasp at hers.
"Etoile? Oh Etoile is that really you?" The king leapt at her, gathering her up into his arms with a surprised squeak from her, the girl unsure where to put her hands. She was looking down shyly as they parted, slowly lifting her gaze to meet Arslan's radiant beam. "What are you doing here Etoile? Did something happen?"
Etoile pouted a little, glancing to the side. "Can't I come to visit? You invited me to afterall…" she mumbled. Arslan's memory was cast back to their lasting meeting, where they said their goodbyes as Etoile returned home and the newly crowned king felt had been struck with a feeling that they'd never meet again. He squeezed her hands tightly.
"Of course you can! I'm just...so surprised, I didn't receive any word and it's so soon...I'm so happy to see you again! I've always wondered if you were doing well. Did you get your knighthood?"
Etoile smiled a little to hear his consideration, before thrusting her nose in the air. "Of course I did. Who do you think you're talking to?" Arslan's joy was infectious as they wore matching grins. Elam off to the side gave a small cough, giving them a start.
"Oh Elam look, it's Etoile!"
"Yes I've been here a while." Elam gave a small nod in greeting to the female knight, getting the same in return. "Shall we head back to Ecbatana now?"
"Oh yes, I suppose now that we have a guest…" Arslan looked down at the dead boar near their feet. "What shall we do with this?" They all contemplated it quietly.
"Dinner?"
Their ride back to Ecbatana was brisk, the boar bouncing along after being slung over the rump of one of the horses, the air filled with their joyous chatter. The pale walls of the city loomed over them with a rosy glow in the dusk, yet the streets were still filled with the lively clamour of markets and livestock. The Parsian folk waved excitedly at their king, some even running up to offer flowers or wares to him, which he graciously accepted, complimenting each and every person in return, until his arms overflowed. Etoile could feel eyes on her, her blonde hair a beacon in the sunlight, but she sensed a lot less hostility in their gaze than she expected. Perhaps the presence of their sovereign alone was enough to allay the fear of seeing a Lusitanian in the city a mere three years after the war.
Relieved of their horses in the courtyard and escorted inside the royal palace, Etoile was quickly overwhelmed with the enthusiasm with which she was greeted, flustered and seemingly in shock at the warm hugs extended by Farangis and Alfreed (and attempted by Gieve), the rest of their old friends offering handshakes and gentle pats on the back. Alfreed hooked an arm around Etoile's, cooing at her friend and throwing a wink at Arslan.
"Etoile's become such a pretty thing~"
Etoile glowered at her stubbornly, Arslan smiling sheepishly behind her. Certainly, she had grown into a woman now, her body filled out in such a way that it would be difficult for her to pose as a man like she once did. She had changed, not only was she shapely and lithe, something in the core of her nature had matured, softening her once sharp gaze into something more gentle, like a carpenter finally perfecting their artwork by smoothing out the rough edges. She was a warm hearth burned down from her once blazing wildfire. Etoile's signature braid now ran across her crown, streaked with warm brown, and she kept two small studs in ears to accompany the old wooden cross on her neck. She still dressed boyishly, with practical pants and boots with a pale tunic, though she lacked the military Lusitanian tabard, perhaps to avoid issues crossing the border, but still kept a sword slung on her belt. It was nice to see her without it, reminding Arslan that they were no longer at war with each other.
"You came just in time, it's the Shah's birthday tomorrow!" Etoile threw a surprised glance at Arslan, who clapped his hands together as though he had just remembered as well.
"Oh yes, it is! What a wonderful gift your arrival has been Etoile! You must attend the celebration!" He beamed widely, Elam side-eyeing his sudden enthusiasm for the party.
"Oh, you're going to be...nineteen right?" Etoile ventured.
"You remember my age?"
"Well, I remember that we're the same age...Though I already turned nineteen a few months ago…"
Arslan looked disappointed. "We missed it then...we'll have to celebrate it as well tomorrow then."
Etoile started to protest, "There's no need-" before Alfreed tackled her around the waist.
"And we have to get you all dressed up then! It's a special occasion!" Etoile threw Arslan a panicked look, but he was already nodding in agreement.
"Can you find her a nice room to stay in as well?" He gently squeezed her shoulder, "I must apologise, but I have to leave you now and attend to my work. Elam will surely scold me otherwise."
"Are you really so busy?"
Arslan gave a resigned shrug and a smile. "During special occasions, yes. I may not see you until tomorrow. Until then, please make yourself at home." Etoile tensed at that remark, but nodded hesitantly. Arslan's eyes met with his aides' in unspoken command before he turned and disappeared into the palace, Elam close on his heels. Etoile watched him go with a wistful expression on her face.
Alfreed sighed dreamily, squeezing her arm, "And she watches him leave, heart longing for her true love~"
Etoile turned and punched her in the arm as hard as possible.
Arslan had been buried all night under the conversation of nobles and officials wanting to beguile their way into the king's favour. Offers of sisters and daughters, gifts of gold and silk and land dripped from their tongues like the sweet mey flowing from caskets. The king sighed wearily, watching his cup fill with the rose coloured liqueur, advisors murmuring in his ears, before deciding he couldn't bear much more. Arslan waved off Rushan with a sheepish laugh, taking his drink and managing to worm his way out of the conversation with a benign excuse. He slipped back into the party and skirted across to the opposite side of the room, casting a look around the room for his friends. Perhaps Elam would come to his aid. A flash of gold caught his eye and he felt his head turn, drawn to the warmth, and his heart fluttered.
Etoile stood on one of the balconies, bathed in the glow of the falling sun. It glittered through her hair, giving it the appearance of gold silk, tinged with pink, the same rose flush gilding her skin and lips. A beautiful ivory silk dress embraced her curves to her knees, decorated with delicate gold embroidery around the seams and v-shaped neckline. The patterned blue underskirt covered her ankles, a pair of dark slippers on her feet. A jewelled gold and pearl kamarband circled her hips, accentuating the mature shape of her body, small bells hanging on one side swinging with her movements. A soft pink shawl hung around her shoulders, protecting her exposed neck.
A handsome man was by her side, probably trying to charm her judging by the ardent look in his eyes; he could see Etoile trying to be polite but her beautiful eyes were like fire, mouth set in a stubborn line. Even her grouchy expression was cute. Arslan looked at her, actuallylooked at her for the first time, and felt his throat close up completely. She was like warmth and light given form. The wind picked up suddenly, catching her hair in a curtain of molten gold. As she plucked it from the sky and tucked it back behind her ear, her head turned and she caught his eye, offering him a shy smile. Arslan's stomach did some sort of painful flop and he stepped backward, cheeks burning and then the ceiling came into view as he tripped on some noble's robe behind him. Several cries of 'Your Majesty!' rang throughout the room as he was helped up, Arslan smiling awkwardly and trying to swat them away. Through their legs he could see Etoile giggling, one hand around her waist, the other covering her mouth, and as much as the breathtaking sight filled his heart with warmth, he found he couldn't laugh along. He looked down, ears hot, and let himself be lead away by Elam to change his stained tunic.
In the quiet of his chambers, Elam rose an eyebrow at him while handing over a new tunic, dark blue trimmed with gold.
"What was that about?" he asked.
Arslan shrugged off his clothes and slipped an arm into the robe. "What do you mean? I just tripped…"
"You were blushing."
"Um, well, it was embarrassing…"
"You're usually quite good at laughing that stuff off though."
Arslan had to chuckle awkwardly. "I'm not completely shameless Elam…"
Elam shook his head and gave up. The king wasn't going to share what was distracting him, but he knew his friend well enough to tell that he was acting a little uncharacteristically. Arslan wasn't a clumsy person by nature. He finished tying the grey sash around his waist and put his hands on his hips. "What do you want to do Arslan?"
The king gave him a grateful smile. "Just give me a little while...the party was tiring me out anyway. I'll...be outside. I think I need some air." He affectionately flicked Elam's nose with his thumb and walked past him, heading away from the gathering to the back of the palace, where he had been privately cultivating a vast garden. The relaxing hobby had grown into a sprawling project of his, and the garden was now large enough for him to disappear into completely and find some peace. The area surrounding the palace courtyard was clean and orderly; pale tiles stretched out in straight boulevards, accompanied by the waterways that nourished the garden. The beds were filled with masses of multi-coloured tulips and shrubs, channels that opened up into lotus laden ponds and star shaped fountains surrounded by carefully structured patterns of native flowers, blooming like a kaleidoscope of life. Arches of lattice were home to climbing roses and ivies, offering shade from the harsh sun. Towards the back he could see the stone gazebo with its intricately patterned ceiling that stood as the border between the ornamental garden and the natural one. Beyond it stretched the man-made forest, paths taking winding routes through the lush undergrowth, filled with cool shade, aroma and peaceful quiet.
Arslan crouched down next to one of the water channels, trying to calm his fluttering heart to the rhythm of the fountain water as he stared at his uncertain face. What was going on with his body? He had always thought of Etoile as beautiful, it was just an objective fact. The sky was blue, water was wet and his friend was very pretty. So why was she affecting him like this now? His heart was just a jumble of a mixed emotions of an intensity he'd never felt before, and he just wanted to stick his head into the aqueduct to quiet them down. Arslan lifted his eyes to the susans reflected in the water, white blooms swaying in the evening breeze. It occurred to him suddenly then, that maybe he should make a bouquet for Etoile. He hadn't properly welcomed her and thanked her for attending his birthday festival. He had also missed her birthday, he should have gotten her a present; though he supposed he had such short notice and absolutely no idea she was coming. Determined, the young king stood and cast his gaze around his garden. The ornamental section offered a plethora of fragrant blossoms, and he started shuffling around the winding streams, plucking the flowers into his arms. A few stems of the susans, some vibrant lalh of all colours, some gentle white maryams, narges were a bit plain, the fritillaria weren't really suitable for bouquets were they...oh, he must have agul or two. Or ten. No, he mustn't go overboard. Arslan flew into his rose garden, excitedly twisting a few choice full blossoms, and laid his whole collection out on the stones before his knees. He twirled a fragrant orange rose in his fingertips, contemplating the composition. The tulips might work as a base, with the roses as a centrepiece. Different colours had different meanings though didn't they? He really had no idea, Gieve would perhaps know, but he didn't feel inclined to seek him out. Hopefully Etoile was just as clueless as him.
Arslan frowned at the bundle of flowers in his grasp, messily tied in twine. Baby pink Ispahans mixed with yellow and dark pink roses, surrounded by a ring of yellow tulips and white lilies, dotted with purple lilacs. The blossoms drooped and bent at odd angles, the colours and shapes didn't match at all, the whole thing just looked dreadfully amateurish. Did Etoile even like flowers? She'd always stubbornly held herself up as a knight before a woman, perhaps she'd think he was trying to belittle her. It struck him then, just how terribly childish his idea was.
"So here's where you went. You disappeared from your own birthday." Arslan spun around, instinctively hiding the flowers behind his back. Etoile approached him with a smile, shawl slung around her arms now, showing off her pale collarbones, cross of Yaldabaoth ever present on its cord.
Arslan swallowed and pulled his eyes away, giving her a shy smile in return. "Ah, yes, it was getting a little crowded in there. I just wanted a small celebration, but you can't escape these things as king."
Etoile gave a sigh, putting a hand on her hip, "That doesn't mean you have to abandon me to one either, especially after those two had fun dressing me up." Arslan smiled apologetically, desperately wanting to tell her that she looked lovely though, she really did, but uncertainty tore at his heart. His grip tightened on the bouquet behind his back, until his knuckles turned white and the blooms crushed in his fingers. Arslan discreetly tossed them over the balcony before Etoile could see them, then walked towards her, hesitantly taking a hand into his own.
"I'll make it up to you. I'll walk you around the city tomorrow. We haven't had the chance to talk and really catch up yet. I'll be yours for the whole day, agreed?"
Etoile gazed at their joined hands sadly, flexing her fingers, before slipping hers away and smiling at Arslan weakly.
"Alright."
Hey, this is my first long form fic, hopefully I get back into the swing of writing! I'm a very slow writer, so I hope you'll be patient with me, and that I can update in reasonable times. I do a lot of research for my writing, so I'll include explanations for any Persian terms I use :D
_
GLOSSARY
Chinkara - a species of Middle-Eastern gazelle
Kamarband - a jewelled belt from which the word cummerbund was derived
Susan - Lily
Lalh - Tulip
Narges - Daffodil
Gul - Rose
Fritillaria - Inverted Tulip
Maryam - Tuberose
Mey - Persian wine
Ispahan - a type of Damask rose
