Prologue ~ ديباجة
The barren and inhospitable sand dunes stretched in every direction, hitting the horizon in a distant and ever-receding halo around me.
The cloth and material wrapped around my body and face served but for appearances; even when the winds picked up and threw the coarse silica into men's faces in Autumn storms my skin deflected the attack, shattering them into a finer grain.
The sun slid off-west of its zenith. Its heat compressing the sweat out of the pores of my men. They stood a good distance back from me, reining in the horses as they bucked and tussled in the heat. Their thoughts gave away their hesitations in coming closer than was necessary. The bronzed containers of water clanged harshly against the jars of spices the troupe carried to ward off evil spirits.
I smiled at their useless tokens; regardless of what their thoughts revealed and the distance they kept, they could not even begin to comprehend the danger they were in by being in my presence.
However, it wasn't their blood I sought.
They spoke with each other in their native tongue, and although I spoke it fluently, it still retained its somewhat musical notes to my ears.
I turned to face them, their thoughts buzzing with curiosity and a desire to be back in the city walls before sunset. Speaking in their language, I gave the order for our return. I hoped my presence out in the sands had given enough warning to the visitors in our city last night. Order and stability must be preserved within its gates.
Twilight was descending as the towering walls came into view across the dunes.
The heat in the air shifted into the humidity; the oasis inside the walls providing a sink for the desert temperatures. The coolness of my skin reveled in the warmth it was exposed to out here, reminding me of when the blood ran through my body.
The thoughts of my men shifted to food and their families as we approached the gates; the scent of a thousand spices, meats and vegetables being cooked into what, to them, was delicious cuisine. For me, however, mine was to come later.
I focussed in on the thoughts of the man guiding my horse across from me. He was picturing his wife welcoming him upon his return, the scent of her cooking within their clay house, his sons and remaining daughters; one whom appeared to be around twenty years old, beautiful, but yet to be married because of her father's lack of wealth.
"Bring your daughter to my palace tonight," I ordered in his dialect.
His face immediately contorted into one of horror; his thoughts racing through conversations he'd overheard in the marketplace. Conversations where men gathered and mourned the loss of their virgin daughters into what they thought was my harem. He stuttered his acknowledgement of my order.
I was grateful that he mistakenly thought his daughter was entering the harem I did not have nor believe in keeping. Like the others, I would pay an amount to the family in a reversed dowry.
Unbeknownst to him, his beautiful daughter would be drained of her blood in the sating of my thirst by morning.
Author's Note:
Welcome to the beginnings of A Thousand and One Nights. Here's a little, well, taster of the story that came to me earlier today. This will be an Edward and Bella fanfic if enough reviews come in encouraging me to run with this story. Bella's POV will probably feature, as well as POV's of the other characters as they appear out of the mirage.
So, to get the ball rolling, what should I call this dark, reflective, protective, purist Edward? Virgindrinkingward doesn't really have the right ring to it?