:)
Sorry, this one took a while. I was finishing up finals and then started the next chapter before realizing this one should probably come first.
The song used in this chapter (and others to come) is called Yalla Tnam Nada by Bachar Mar-Khalifé (feat. Golshifteh Farahani). Though I believe it is based on a traditional song/lullaby and not an original composition. I got the English translation from yalla-tnam-nada but since I wanted the Arabic translation to be in Latin letters I had to do that myself. I am not a speaker of Arabic (though I hope one day) and I deeply apologize for any and all mistakes. But I tried my best with using online translation tools and hopefully, it is recognizable to those of you who do speak this beautiful language.
More Character Physical Inspirations:
Shayera: A blending of Clara Paget (as Anne Bonny in Black Sails) and Golshifteh Farahani.
Nadira: Kelly Gale (she's a model)
Dinah Lance-Queen: A mix of Alicia Vikander (as Kitty in Anna Karenina) and Florence Pugh (as a blonde)
Thank You so much for Reading and Please Review! :)
Chapter 31: Not Entirely Forgotten
Palace Harem, Kingdom of Dagra Coast of the Arabian Sea September 1844
—Princess Shayera bint Garsiv,
"Yalla tnam yalla tnam,
ladbahla tir al-hammam,
roh ya hamam la tsedk,
badhak a nada latnam."
Shayera watched from the corner as the old nurse sang a lullaby to the broken woman curled up at her feet.
Fadeela's voice was aged and trembling, carrying all the heartache and sorrow that had befallen them as she brushed fingers through her broken child's thinning hair, helpless to save her from this grief that had destroyed the once proud queen.
Nura remained curled on the cold floor, as her childhood servant continued to sing. The beaten and torn remains of a pillow clutched tightly to her chest.
"Yalla tnam yalla tnam,
ladbahla tir al…al—"
Fadeela's voice broke, unable to go on, as she dissolved into tears.
Shayera quickly crossed the room and helped the old woman to her feet.
"Go and rest for a while, we will take over." She nodded toward Fawzia who was instantly by her side, helping her superior out of the room to her own chamber.
The Princess knew she could rely on Fawzia to not leave the old nurse until she had fallen asleep. So, for now, it was going to be just herself and Nura.
Sighing, she crouched down on the floor, so she was face to face with the huddled woman. Shayera tried to give her a warm smile but she didn't feel it was very convincing.
"It's time to get up Nura. Your supper is ready."
Nura blinked at the younger girl, easily complying as Shayera began to lift her up into a sitting position.
Once upright, Shayera brushed the gray strands out of Nura's face and patted her cheek like a small child.
"Good, see now that's better." She praised in a sweet tone, feeling the smile plastered on her face slowly become more genuine. "You wait here like a good girl while I go get your soup alright?"
The woman didn't respond but started to caress the tattered rag in her arms. Shayera sighed again, wondering why she continued to try.
She had retrieved the bowl from a nearby low table and was bringing it back to her charge when she heard a sharp intake of air behind her.
Just barely managing not to spill the soup she spun around to face the intruder only to freeze in equal shock at the uninvited guest.
"Nadira?"
The older girl tore her gaze away from Nura and gave a sad smile to her younger sister.
"Hello Shayera, I'm sorry to interrupt but I couldn't find a servant to announce me, so I let myself in."
Shayera stiffened and gave her sister a sharp glare.
"That's because there aren't any servants. Thanks to your mother."
Nadira flushed but didn't avert her gaze.
"So…they are really all gone?"
Shayera reluctantly let her guard down a bit at hearing the concern in the young woman's voice.
"All but Fadeela and Fawzia. They are all that is left."
Nadira nodded, returning her gaze to the shrunken figure on the floor who looked through them like ghosts.
"I never imagined it was this bad," Nadira whispered and Shayera scoffed.
"No, I don't suppose you would, considering you cared so much before."
Shayera turned her back on her sister and began to rejoin Nura, only to be stopped by the pull of Nadira's hand grabbing ahold of her arm just above the elbow. She snapped her head back, ready to destroy the girl with all her pint up fury, precedent of birth be damned! But Shayera hesitated before the hard brown eyes that bore into hers.
There was no fear or bruised pride in Nadira, she was calm, frighteningly so, as she tightened her grip on the younger girl's arm.
"Take out your frustration all you want little sister but remember who is responsible for your sufferings and who like you is forced to shelter in the wings."
Shayera jerked her arm free, seething as her captor returned her contempt with a smile. She should have known better. Nadira had always been immune to her tantrums, she had experienced far worse from Shani to ever be intimidated by Shayera's temper or tongue.
Deciding to just ignore her the younger princess took her bowl and returned to kneel on the cool marble floor before Nura. She could feel her sister's keen eyes watching them, but she refused to acknowledge her presence.
"Here you go Nura, open up."
The older woman didn't obey, a river of soup ran down her chin, pooling in her lap.
"Aw!" Shayera grumbled, hurriedly trying to wipe up the liquid with her hand before it ruined Nura's silk pants. However, Nura pushed her hand away as Shayera fought to clean up the mess.
"Stop it Nura." She protested but the woman did her one step better and slapped the girl's cheek.
It didn't hurt, those bony fingers had hardly enough strength to lift a spoon let alone leave a mark, but the attempt still stung.
Silently reminding herself that Nura hadn't meant it, she didn't even know Shayera was, she tried again. Nura slapped her hand away again and moan something primal and animalistic at her, like a hiss.
"Fine then," Shayera bit out. "leave it, what do I care?"
She was about to attempt giving her another spoonful when her gaze fell on the tattered and foul rag of a pillow clutched to Nura's chest.
Shayera's eyes widened in panic as she saw the huge splatter of thick green soup. Frantically she tried to wipe it off, Nura fighting against her.
Shayera's mind was scrambling for ways to save the rag. She'd have to wash it, or it would sour and mold, leaving the whole place smelling like rotting food. That would be unbearable.
Then an even worse thought struck her, what if it made Nura sick!
Desperate, Shayera began pulling on the rag, trying to free it from Nura's grip but the old woman clutched it tighter and screamed, beating Shayera's arm with her free hand.
"Listen-listen to me. I just need it for a moment, I'll give it back."
The woman didn't listen and instead bared her teeth, attempting to bite the girl's arm.
"No, Stop it Nura!"
Shayera pushed her forearm into the frail chest to keep the snapping teeth away.
"I promise I'll give it back, but I need to clean it first."
Nura shook her head violently as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Out of nowhere, the little woman gained an animal strength as she screamed, enraged eyes seeing Shayera for the first time as she pushed against the girl's chest.
Shayera rolled back, catching herself, but not before Nura knocked the bowl out of her hands. It went flying across the room, landing in an inglorious swamp of green soup.
The girl stared at the ruined meal, liquid running across the marble floor in all directions. She could feel it sticking to her arms and dropping from her hair in thick globs.
While her attacker was distracted, Nura, backed herself up against the raised pallet bed, whimpering like a wounded animal, as she clung to the rag, eyes darting fearfully around the room, not recognizing anything she saw.
Tears stung Shayera's eyes as she looked at the mess. Bitterness welled up inside her as she ground her teeth and turned hurt filled eyes back on the cowering gray-haired figure.
Standing to her feet she stormed across the floor, towering above this creature who was just an empty shell.
"I am trying to help you!" She yelled, "why can't you see that?"
Her voice became hoarse as she fought down the tears that scalded her throat. "What is it going to take for you to stop fighting me?"
Her lungs burned with each breath as the hurt she had kept locked up for so many months poured out.
"She's gone!" She cried. "She's gone and she is never coming back. But I'm still here."
Nura looked blankly as she stroked the pillow.
"UGH!" Shayera screamed, "Don't you understand? I'm trying my best, but you can't even see me."
Still, the old woman looked through her. Shayera fell to her knees, clinging to her boney shoulders, willing Nura to recognize the girl in front of her.
"Please Nura…Please just see me…Please."
Nothing changed. Shayera's voice was strained.
"I want to help, but I don't know what to do…tell-tell me what I need to do…how am I supposed to fix this?"
Still, nothing, no one heard her.
Suddenly she shook the older woman with a fury. "LOOK. AT. ME!"
"That's enough."
Shayera came back to her senses, the words like a cold bucket of water on her bitterness. A firm hand pulled her away from Nura and helped her stand.
Releasing her Nadira looked her sister up and down.
"You should go and get changed, wash the soup out of your hair."
Shayera struggled to find her voice which came out barely above a whisper.
"I-I can't, Nura—"
"I think you two have had enough of each other for right now." Nadira gave her sister's hand a squeeze. "Go take care of yourself, I'll sit with her until you return."
Reluctantly Shayera nodded, leaving the two as she made her way out of the dark cell and into the bright afternoon sunshine of the courtyard.
It was like waking from a bad dream, going from darkness to light, as she made her way to her own room.
Once changed and clean she returned to find Nadira sitting cross-legged on the floor, ladling soup down Nura's throat.
Shayera was shocked by the peaceful scene, cautiously approaching.
Nadira smiled at her, "look Nura, I told you Shayera would come back. See I told you she wasn't mad."
Shayera dropped to the floor, eyes locked on Nura's blank face.
"She spoke? She asked if I was mad?"
"Well, not in so many words, but I figured that was what she was concerned about."
Shayera scrunched her face. "What did she say?"
Nadira put another spoonful of soup into the woman's mouth. "Your name."
Shayera looked at Nura, a small spark of hope beginning to form, maybe it wasn't too late. New tears constricted her throat, but Shayera stubbornly pushed them back. Needing a distraction from the emotional fatigue she noticed something in Nadira's hand.
"Where did you get that?" she asked, nodding toward the new soup bowl.
"Fawzia brought it and cleaned up the spill. She also managed to get that filthy rag out of Nura's hands. She left to clean it right before you came in."
Shayera's eyes flew back to Nura, surprised to see that the rag was indeed gone. The woman's hands were resting peacefully in her lap.
"Nicely done Fawzia," Shayera mumbled, thinking maybe she hadn't given the slave enough credit.
"Go get a comb, Shaye," Nadira ordered. "See if you can manage to save what's left of her hair."
Shayera obediently retrieved the comb and sat on the bed, feeling an unexpected sense of relief at not being the one in charge for a change. She slowly began to battle the snarls and tangles that had all but destroyed the once glorious mane.
Nura began to squirm and swat at the tugging on her scalp. Shayera froze, but Nadira put a gentle hand on the woman's cheek, calmly shooshing as she soothingly reassured her that everything was alright.
Nura relaxed and Shayera let out a breath before continuing in her task, working her way from the bottom to top, and wincing as the rats' nest of discarded gray strands grew at her feet.
There was a comfortable silence, a welcome change from the tense mournfulness that normally permeated this place.
Shayera found herself smiling as she made more headway on Nura's hair, contemplating ways they might convince the older woman to let them give her a bath.
"I didn't forget you know."
"Huh?" Shayera was pulled from her thoughts by her sister's voice. Though she didn't fully register what she'd meant instead focused on a particularly tough knot.
"You think that I've forgotten her, that I didn't care when Alab sent Amira away. But you're wrong."
Shayera's good mood vanished.
"Don't say her name." she ground out.
"Why?" Nadira's voice was so calm it was infuriating.
"Because! You don't get to say her name, you did nothing to try and save her."
Nadira watched her sister, contemplating her words, as she lifted another offering of soup to Nura's lips.
"And what did you do Shayera?"
The nineteen-year-old jerked her head up in surprise. "What?"
"I said, what did you do to save Amira?"
Shayera's heart began to hammer against her chest.
"W-Well, I-I…um…well that is…I wanted to-t-to…"
Nadira's expression was sympathetic.
"You did exactly what you could do, what any of us could do…nothing."
Shayera stared at her sister, silent, still, dead. Then the girl dissolved into shaking sobs, the guilt, and frustration she had been burying down since the day her little sister had been stolen away drowning her.
She didn't notice Nadira come and sit beside her, she didn't feel her gentle hands stroking her hair, or comprehend the arms holding her close. It wasn't until she'd run out of tears that she recognized the soothing presence of her big sister holding her.
She tried to push her away, trying to meet the twenty-two-year-old face to face. But Nadira wasn't going to release her so easily.
She gave her sister an understanding smile before again enveloping her in a hug.
Shayera sat frozen, not returning the gesture but not fighting it, as Nadira's arms encircled her, the rounded point of her chin resting on top of Shayera's head.
"Dagra has five princesses," Nadira's soothing voice began, "and I have four sisters."
Nadira took a shaky breath "Amira, will always be our sister, no one can change that. Not Alab, not my mother, not England, or distance, or time. She will always be one of us in our hearts. It is not enough but it is all we have."
Shayera closed her eye tight against the hot tears that came against her will. Tears were so useless if only her body would understand that. Crying wasn't going to change anything.
Nadira was quiet, giving her time to grieve while continuing to stroke the teenager's red hair.
"I know you miss her." She continued. "I miss her too. But she is not the sister who I worry about, you are."
Shayera was afraid to move as she focused on a few tears that rolled down her lashes and dropped on to her linen pants.
"Sultana is the long-suffering princess. She accepts her fate and does not fight against those who use her for their own advantage."
Shayera thought of the eldest of the Sultan's daughters, with her selfish husband and five energetic sons who were becoming just like him. She had been given as a fourth wife to a general who Alab had failed to adequately pay.
The quiet and skittish Sultana who had said no more than ten words to Shayera in her whole life. How had she ever envied the woman for being freed from Alab through marriage? She wasn't free at all.
"Shani is the favored princess. She is spoiled and proud, but that has made her weak. She will not survive when hardships come."
This last revelation was made with a note of sadness that surprised Shayera, given the two's history together.
"Amira is the stolen princess." Nadira swallowed the lump in her throat. "she has been taken away and forced to create a new life far from home."
Grief again assaulted her as she silently begged Allah, if he was listening, to protect Amira from the foreigners who had stolen her.
There was a pause.
I would name you, the laughing princess. She thought with a smile, remembering the time Nadira had hidden all Fayza's left shoes.
"And you Shayera, are the forgotten princess."
The girl's breath stilled.
"You've fought your whole life to be noticed. But Alab, the women, our siblings, they ignore unpleasant things. However, you remember everything. Every slight, every laugh, every joy, every pain, they are all engraved on your heart. That is why it hurts so much to think they have forgotten you when you will never be free of their memory, good or bad."
Shayera latched on to Nadira's arm, holding on as if she too might disappear without warning.
"You fear she has forgotten you too. That you are nothing if unseen, blown away by the desert wind and lost."
Nadira cupped the girl's face in her hands and raised it to hers.
"But you are not forgotten Shayera…not by me." She brushed a dark red strand out of her face.
"You are my little sister. I may not have the power to protect you, but I will never forget you, and I will always fight for you."
Nadira wrapped her in another tight embrace as Shayera fought against the unfamiliar tide of emotions coursing through her.
It was too much; it was all too much. She couldn't handle having someone to rely on again. She appreciated Nadira's words, but she didn't know what to do with them.
"I'm fine now." Shayera asserted, pushing out of Nadira's embrace.
The older girl was hesitant to move, but eventually nodded, and went back to sit in front of Nura, who as usual hadn't noticed anything happening around her.
Shayera returned to combing Nura's hair while Nadira fed her soup.
They both knew that they would likely never again speak of Amira or what had been said today, but it had been said and that mattered.
The comfortable silence returned and Shayera took a moment to observe her sister.
Nadira was beautiful, though few remarked on it. Reflected in her was the beauty of her Sudanese mother and the regal bearing of their father's Arab and Turkish heritage.
Long black hair, brown skin, almond-shaped amber eyes, full lips, thick brows, a little nose, and large ears. Yes, like all the women in the palace, she was a beauty.
But Nadira was also kind, a practical jokester, and had a keen understanding of when to strike and when to wait.
Shayera had admired her for years, but now she wondered what fundamental difference there had been between them.
Both were born into the same life of royal privilege that had given Nadira an open compassionate heart but made Shayera closed-off and mistrustful of good-intentions. What had been the difference?
"What's that sound?" Nadira asked, perplexed as she watched Nura twitch her hand and sway back and forth.
Shayera listened, deciphering the broken tune the woman was humming.
"She wants Fadeela," Shayera replied as she began to braid Nura's now tangle-free hair.
"But why is she humming a lullaby?"
Shayera shrugged. "Fadeela sings it to her, it seems to calm her down."
Nadira nodded before raising the last spoonful of soup to the woman's lips.
"Sleep Nada, sleep,
I'm about to strangle a pigeon,
Don't worry pigeon, I won't do it,
I'm telling her stories so that she falls asleep."
Shayera couldn't help the small smile that curved her lips as Nadira sang the familiar song.
"Sleep Nada, sleep,
I'm about to strangle a pigeon,
Don't worry pigeon, I won't do it,
I'm telling her stories so that she falls asleep."
The teenager's smile grew as she remembered that Nura had spoken for the first time today when she had said Shayera's name. Maybe she hadn't forgotten everything after all, at least not entirely.
"Tichitchi tichitchi,
The apricots under the apricot tree,
Every time the wind is rising,
I'll pick an apricot for Nada…"
No, not entirely forgotten.
