The Legend of a Saracen Princess

Chapter 8: Just for Loving You

()….()

She shouldn't have read the words again. She shouldn't have looked at them for strength for they only brought her an emotion she viewed as a great weakness. Especially now. Grief consumed her. She hated that she had to wait to look at those words. Why didn't she look at them when she was traveling to Palestine? She would have recovered soon after her arrival, right?

No, she could never recover. This was something she had to live with for the rest of her life. Something that would cause her to become sick every time she thought of the deal that she forced herself to comply with. Her body curled into a fetal position, feeling the nausea coming on. She skipped breakfast. She couldn't remember the last meal she'd eaten and she knew that it was beginning to worry her friends and Jamal.

Her hands, wrapped around the wooden doll, pressed against her heart as her eyes let loose another wave of tears that stained her cheeks. "I love Will! Not that… Prince," she sobbed, a weight beginning to settle on her already heavy heart. She couldn't believe that she'd agreed to such an engagement instead of trying to find a way out of it. Well, it was too late now. Sniffling, she stood up and walked about the room, trying to clear her head.

She was too emotional to see Am'an and knew that something bad would happen if she did.

Everything about Am'an repulsed her. His haughty airs and crooked nose. She hated the way every time his eyes would graze over her, she would feel a chill shoot up her spine and suddenly she could not hold her stomach together to keep her from losing her meals. Meals that she'd stopped eating to avoid losing them in the first place. The very thought that he would be able to unveil her and let his cold black eyes see her face, that he would do all she had dreamed of Will doing with her and more, that he would have power over her people was enough to make her sick right now. Sick with dread.

Quiet knocking echoed from the door, jolting her out of her reverie.

"Princess?" she heard the sturdy voice of Samir followed by another set of knocks. It was a silent comfort despite the known purpose behind the knock.

"Yes?" she answered after finding her voice.

"Prince Am'an is requesting an audience with you," he told her. She could hear the strain in his voice and guilt immediately consumed her as she suddenly thought of all Samir must have been through, being the strong one. The pillar that everyone found strength in as they all leaned on him. They all knew he would never let them fall.

"Samir, I am so sorry. I have not been a friend to you."

"Princess Safiya, there is no reason for you to feel sorry," she heard him sigh from the other side of the door as she leaned her back against it.

"Why not? I have not considered your feelings in all of this, my dear friend. How could I have let myself turn a blind eye to you? And you, the strongest of them all. Of Haissam and Layla and me. To never considered how all of this might be affecting you."

"Princess, I will speak plainly. The only connection all of this has to me is where you are concerned. I do not wish to see you marry a man you do not love. I do not wish to see you give your country to a tyrant. So," he paused, and she could tell he was trying to gather the right words. He never was a great speaker, "I must be strong. If only for you. The girl whose father I watched die, whose brother was my first friend, of whom I view as a sister of my own. Now, Princess, Am'an's temper will only rise if you refuse to see him today as well."

"He causes everyone's unhappiness, yet he still demands attention. Tell him that if I were to see him, my stomach would not be able to hold the breakfast I ate this morning," she told him, her voice low with disgust she already began to feel at the mere thought of having to see the outrageous man that decided he wanted her for a wife.

"He says that if he does not see you by the time the sun casts no shadow, he will call off his side of the agreement."

"If he continues to make such threats, the wedding will not happen."

She heard a tired sigh escape his lips and she knew that Samir did not want to say anything more, but he had to. "You know that we cannot afford to lose his aid in this war," he paused, as if waiting for her to say something in response. She had none. "And, Princess, he is abusing his privileges as an honored guest. He speaks bitingly to Jamal and sometimes pushes him around—"

"And Jamal cannot do anything because he is not a king." Safiya reached up and covered her nose and mouth with her veil, anger now welling up inside of her. "No one, not even my future husband, mistreats those serving under my name." With one swift motion, the door flew open and Safiya stepped out to a surprised Samir. "Come, I must speak with Am'an," she told him as she started down the hallway at the pace that even a tall, lanky Samir had trouble keeping up with.

()….()

Will couldn't believe he'd been caught.

Here, in Palestine, of all places! But he needed to escape. He had to find Djaq. A shock of desperation coursed through him. He had to be with her, he had to see if she was there. He just couldn't bear the thought of living without her for another moment.

In seconds, without any warning, the guard who had caught Will whirled him around to face the person who decided his fate. "Why are you here, Will?" he heard the man say in a thick Saracen accent, but in English nonetheless.

Will froze. He knew his name? Will's eyes, which were previously trained on his captor's dark, but soft looking shoes, trailed cautiously up the guard's body, eventually landing on his face. It was the burly man from the forest that day.

"You speak English?" Will asked, suddenly feeling shock as he watched the guard with unusual, caramel eyes nod.

"Yes, and I am Haissam. I ask again, what are you doing here, Will?" Will couldn't help but to draw back slightly, afraid of what this man could do to him with those massive arms.

"How do you know my name?" Will countered, allowing his stupidity to take over him as he straightened himself up and stared into Haissam's eyes. He couldn't believe he was acting so rudely toward a man that held Will's life in his hands.

"Our princess spoke your name once. As we left England," Will couldn't help the scowl that threatened his lips as he watched an arrogant look flicker through the Saracen man's gaze and a twitch of a smirk play at the corner of his lips.

"I came to find Djaq."

"You mean Princess Safiya?"

This caught Will off guard. He didn't realize that she was known as someone completely different here. She was Princess Safiya of Palestine. Not the Djaq that he knew and loved in the forest. Would she be completely different in personality as well?

"Yes. She is the one I need to find."

Will watched in annoyance as that smile he was already growing tired of spread across Haissam's face. "You don't know them?"

Will blinked in confusion. "Know what?" he asked, fear of the worst already pumping through his veins.

"Do not worry, it is still fixable."

Desperation itched its way into Will's mind. "What? What do I not know that can be fixed?" He was almost compelled to grab the burly man's shoulders, but decided against it.

"She's to be married. The day after tomorrow, actually, but—"

"What? To who?" Will shouted, panic rising within him. "It's you, isn't it?"

"Be quiet, it is not me, I can assure you," Haissam said with wide eyes. Will watched his face fall as he seemed to prepare himself to reveal something he himself didn't like to think about. "It is a Persian Prince, who is a tyrant and will not treat her as she should be treated."

"So it's not you?"

"No." Will sighed, releasing the tension that was slowly building inside of him. But he still had an obstacle. From what Haissam sounded like when telling Will of the man that Djaq was to marry, this marriage held no signs of love at all.

But before that train of thought could progress, another one popped into his mind, taking its stand at the forward-most spot in his thoughts and standing firm, never wavering. "How did you know I was here? The door I entered was left unguarded."

"Aah, but it wasn't," Haissam told Will, a delighted smile spreading across his face as he launched into his explanation of the palace's security. "You see, the servants' entrances are just as guarded as the main gates, they are only hidden. It is a tactic used to allow the trespasser to let his guard down so that he can be caught much easier. I just happened to be discussing an important matter concerning the wedding with the guard standing at the entrance you used to 'sneak' into our palace. Now, about your request to see our Princess…"

"Haissam!" Will's eyes flicked to the approaching figure dressed head-to-toe in black robes, the only visible part of the person's body were the large, feminine brown eyes. Will watched as a certain tenderness spread across Haissam's features, especially his darkening caramel eyes, as he turned around to greet the approaching woman. As she came to a halt beside Haissam, standing particularly close but not touching, Will noticed the curious expression with which she regarded him. It was as if she'd never seen pale skin before.

When she spoke it was softness that greeted his ears in a language he knew nothing of and couldn't understand. He could only stare at them as they spoke, in hushed tones, the woman's gaze trailed up to Haissam's and wouldn't leave them as they conversed, leaving Will feeling a little embarrassed. As if he was interrupting something and shouldn't be there.

Although the conversation lasted only a few minutes, he allowed his mind to wander as he stood there awkwardly, waiting for them to finish. His attention was drawn back to them when he heard his name mentioned. There was a lull as the woman's eyes slowly turned back to him, filled with awe. It made Will slightly uncomfortable, to be under such scrutiny, and he found himself shifting slowly from one foot to the other.

"Layla recognizes your eyes, and that she cannot believe that you came all the way here for Safiya," Haissam said with a secret smile on his face.

Will could only smile nervously back, still unnerved from the intensity of her gaze. He let out a breath he didn't know he held as Layla's eyes shot back to Haissam, telling him something that sounded urgent by the tone of her voice, the alarmed look in her eyes and by the way Haissam's eyes widened. Somewhere in between all of the words he heard "Safiya" which caused Will to suddenly pay better attention, as if he could actually understand what she was saying.

"We must hurry to Safiya; she is meeting with Prince Am'an, he future husband. This will surely end badly if what Layla says is true about Safiya's rising temper, especially now that Am'an is just as angry. But you cannot calmly walk in; it will only anger Am'an more. I must present you as a trespasser. A criminal. Do you understand?"

Determination pulsed through his veins just as quickly as his heart was beating from the nervous shock of adrenaline. Finally, he would see Safiya's face, "I hope you don't mind a fighter for a captive, then."

Haissam only laughed.

()….()

The air between Samir and Safiya as they walked to the Grand Throne Room, could have registered as awkward with a pinch of tension to anyone else. But to Samir and Safiya, it was comfortable. Neither felt as if they had anything to say, and Safiya knew this. She glanced at her old friend, still feeling remnants of her guilt wash over her. But she knew that Samir was okay, because his eyes reflected the calm acceptance that he felt. He knew that she felt guilty for not noticing what he really went through beneath his amused looks. She knew that he'd already forgiven her, but she still felt guilty. Even if the emotion wasn't very strong, it was still there.

They stopped in front of the large doors of the Grand Throne Room.

"Are you ready, Safiya?" Samir asked, his voice only loud enough for just her ears. She could only nod, her anger rising at the prospect of wasting another minute with Prince Am'an.

Silently, Samir stepped in front of her, opened the door and announced Safiya to a standing Am'an.

Safiya stepped inside and was blasted with the thick tension in the air, she glanced toward the window to see Jamal staring at her with wide, frightened eyes. "Jamal and Samir, stand outside the door until I call for you."

Samir turned to her, shock evident in his eyes, "Princess, what about—"

"He will be my husband in two days, I believe that it would be acceptable if we were alone for a short while."

Samir gave her a slight warning glance before turning and following a shaking Jamal out of the room. With practiced poise, she walked to her throne and slowly sat down, fixing Am'an with a cold glare.

He glared right back, from his throne a little further to the right than usual. Safiya explained to him that if there were any other important guests like Malik, they would mistake his throne for a designated visitor's throne.

"Are you feeling better, Princess?" he asked, his cold, black eyes trained on hers, holding a sarcastic glint.

"Much better, shookran, Prince Am'an."

Silence reigned again and Safiya thought that she could suffocate in the tense air filling the room.

"How are the preparations for the ceremony?" his voice held something in it that caused dread to shoot up her spine.

"They are going well." She did not feel the need to elaborate or to ask him any questions. They would have been just as forced as his. And she didn't want to go through any unnecessary efforts for a man like him.

"Why are you not happy for the ceremony that will soon bind us together as one being? One power."

Prince Am'an's words, spoken softly with a hint of hurt, almost caused Safiya to soften the grudge she held against him. She even tried to will herself to thaw some of the ice in her eyes and tone, trying to regard him in a kinder manner than the man who stole her away from a life she loved. "I am…" she had to really force the next words from her lips, "happy, Am—"

"I see no happiness!"

Almost. Any hint of warm feelings that might have begun to form drained out of her faster than Robin's arrow could hit its nearest target, leaving the glacier forming around her heart to quickly strengthen with new vigor. Her hatred found a firmer foundation, derived from his angered outburst.

Her hands, clenched into tight fists, moved to her lap as they began to shake from the intensity of restraint she had to maintain as to not kill the man before her. "Oh?" she said, her voice keeping an eerie calm, as her eyebrows lifted in an inquisitive quirk. Her eyes betrayed everything, however. All the rage, hatred, pain that she'd kept inside her for the satisfaction of this man. "Happy? You want me to be happy?" her voice held a certain tightness that indicated her barely restrained anger. "How could I possibly be happy when I am being forced to marry a tyrant?" her voice had risen considerably until she could hear an overwhelming echo bounce the word 'tyrant' around the room.

She didn't regret her words even as shock registered on Am'an's face, even as the shock slowly transformed into a glare just as intense as her own. "Is that what you think of me?" he stated, his voice reaching a strained low as he stood up to meet her challenge, "As a tyrant?" Safiya flinched at the volume and harshness of the word, "My wife should never know such words."

"Your wife would only know such words for as long as she lives because she is married to one!"

"If we were married, this never would happen. You would know your place!"

"But we are not. So you have no power over me or my people until the event takes place."

"I am a guest in your country, you should treat me with great respect. Especially since I agreed to aid you in your Holy War."

"In this country, Am'an, respect is earned no matter who you are. Bullying my most trusted advisor does not earn respect. Refusing to offer aid for the protection of your country as well as my own does not earn respect. Forcing your will on others and making threats does. Not. Earn. Respect. If you want respect you will treat my people with respect. You will treat me with respect." Such satisfaction with oneself could not be felt anywhere else in the known world than in Safiya at that moment. She'd felt a weight lift from her shoulders, but she knew it wasn't over. Not yet. She could tell by the look on his face that she'd only succeeded in angering him even more.

"And you do not love me?" he asked, his voice suddenly taking on a fiercely delicate tone that alerted Safiya to impending danger.

But she didn't care anymore.

"When has love ever been a part of any arranged marriage, much less this one?" she shot back, feeling brave yet slightly sick at the same time.

She could see the fire growing in his eyes as her words slowly seeped into his dense brain. "I will show you," he said, advancing toward her in a threatening stance, his fists clenched at his sides and his eyes narrowed to tiny slits, "how love is a part of arranged marriages, my Princess." Upon his last words, he reached her and grabbed her roughly by the arms and pulled her to him. His hands squeezed her upper arms as she put her hands up to push against him with all of her strength.

"Get your hands off of me!"

"La', Princess, you don't understand how love works in these kinds of marriages, I must teach my future bride."

Just as she was thinking of how much she wished Will were there, the doors burst open, causing Am'an to jump away from her, making it seem as if he were idly chatting with her instead of what he would have done if given the chance.

Safiya turned to see who her savior was and silently thanked Haissam as he dragged in a man struggling against Haissam's grip on him with what seemed to be all of his strength. She couldn't help but wonder at the stupidity of the captive's tactics. Haissam was obviously much stronger.

Eventually they came to a halt directly before Safiya and she watched in amusement as Haissam forced the man down to his knees. She couldn't help but note the paleness of the man's skin and she knew that he was an Englishman, for he had no olive tone at all integrated into his skin color. His dark head hung low in defeat and she wondered what a scrawny-looking man like him was doing here in Palestine.

"This Englishman was caught trying to enter the palace through the servants' entrance," Haissam said as he grabbed the hair at the top of the man's head and pulled back, allowing Safiya to see the familiar green eyes that she'd only been able to see in her dreams since she'd arrived here. His green eyes searched hers, looking for the same familiarity that she'd seen in his, but she had to block that out. She couldn't gasp in surprise, she couldn't whisper his name, she couldn't shed a happy tear, no, she had to conceal all of the emotions raging inside her behind a collected, cold pair of eyes. She couldn't even allow recognition to register in his hopeful face. "What do you wish me to do with him?"

"Dungeons," Safiya choked out, cursing her throat for constricting when she couldn't afford it, "For now," she said, her voice sounding much stronger than it did only seconds before, "take him to the dungeons."

Translations:
La'-- No
Shookran-- Thank you

Author's Note: Hopefully you enjoyed it. Sorry that it took so long to get out, but I found the last scene incredibly difficult to write for some reason. It probably still is inadequate, but... maybe I got the right mood? Constructive criticism is much appreciated.