Enjoy!
m/m fluff ahead for the people who've said they ship Ibrahim/Raoul :)
Ibrahim
Chapter 74
The Nightmare
"Ibrahim."
I hadn't been asleep anyway, so the moment I heard Raoul's voice in my bedroom doorway, I sat up and stared. I couldn't see his face in the dark, but I could see that his shoulders were caved in, and his legs were pressed tightly together, like he was making himself as small as possible.
"I am awake. You can come in." I turned on the lamp, and the light revealed his puffy red eyes and wan face. I was out of the bed in seconds, going to him. "What's wrong?"
"I had a...dream."
"About?"
He gripped his arm tightly with his hand. "What we talked about today."
"The assassin."
He nodded.
"Vincenzo said that Thibaut left Paris with the money the moment he handed him the letter. He doesn't want to kill you, Raoul - he's not even here."
"But my brother does. My brother is here, in Paris, and wants to kill me."
I cupped his face with my hand. "I will not let him get to you. We will...tomorrow, we will start making plans to leave."
"What about your sister?"
"My sister is engaged to be married. She will have a home elsewhere." I nodded to the door. "Since you are in here, let's close this."
He did. "Where will we go?"
"Anywhere. I do not care."
He met my eyes. "I can speak English. We could...go to London. My brother has been there, but I haven't. I never wanted to go on trips with him. No one knows me there - they don't know what I look like. And even if my resemblance is similar to Philippe's, if we...stay low, then...it could work." He put his hand over mine. "Do you think this letter will affect Philippe?"
"I think he will end up in prison."
"That's a laugh. Do you know how difficult it is to sentence nobility? We have lawyers to walk circles around the police."
He said it like a joke, but tears were forming in his eyes again. I could barely imagine the pain he was in. He'd known his brother hated him, but he hadn't realized just how much.
I brought my lips to his forehead and kissed. He sighed. "Come. Let's sleep."
"In your bed?"
"Would you prefer the floor?"
His eyes scanned the sheets and blankets, wary. "I...I don't think...I am ready to..."
"Oh." I tried to hide my smile. "No, no. That we do not have to do. When I say sleep, I mean sleep."
"All right." Some tension left his face. His eyes softened. "Yes."
I took his hand in mine and led him to the mattress. I laid down, and made room for him, holding up the sheets for him to enter. Wide-eyed, he did. I reached over his head to switch off the light, while he sucked in a breath at my closeness.
For a few minutes, we lay side by side in silence. Not touching. I merely enjoyed his presence here. It was supremely calming. I almost started to fall asleep.
"Ibrahim," he whispered.
"Hm?" My eyes were still closed.
"I should tell you something."
"Oh?" They were closed no longer.
"I've never been in bed with...anyone, before."
"Ah." I grinned. "I see."
"But I have kissed a boy. When I was twelve. It was a cook's son. Philippe caught us in my bedroom, and he fired the cook and forced her and her son out." A pause. "His name was Marcus. I never saw him again. I don't know what became of him or his mother. But ever since then, Philippe has hated me. He found me a nuisance before, but now-"
"I understand."
"Have you?"
"Ever kissed...anyone."
"Yes."
"And...shared a bed?"
"I have."
"With a woman? Or a man?"
"A man. In Persia, unless it is a wife or slave girl, it's rather unacceptable to share a bed with a woman - though sharing a bed with a man is not exactly...smiled upon."
"Persia?"
I stilled, realizing my mistake.
"I thought you were from Egypt."
"I...am not."
"I'm confused." He reached up to turn the light on, then looked at me. "Why would you say you're from Egypt if you are from Persia."
I watched him watch me, seeing the bewilderment in his face. Now or never, I suppose.
"Raoul." I sat again, and he did too. "Running away with you will not be the first time I change my identity. I couldn't tell you, because I couldn't tell anyone. But I trust you enough now."
The space between his brow creased. "Your name is not Ibrahim?"
"It is."
"Ali?"
"Jahandir, actually. Don't suppose you have heard of me?"
"I'm...afraid not."
"Good." I stretched. "News of my absence from court has not travelled this far, then."
"Court." He went pale. "You're not...surely you aren't a...prince-"
"Oh, no!" I shrugged. "Just the...Grand Vizier."
His voice strained. "Grand Vizier!" He stared. "Why did you leave?"
I met his eyes. "Because the Shah cut ties with me. And I could not take the...heartbreak." There was, of course, also the matter of Azizah killing her husband, but that was a story for another time.
Understanding rose in his face like the dawn. "You - the Shah of Persia. That's who-"
"When he was the Prince, yes. It changed when he became the Shah."
He swallowed, then gave a nervous chuckle. "I am a bit of a...well, I'm no prince. I'm...not even really a vicomte anymore. I'm quite literally nobody. To go from the Shah of Persia to me-"
"Brings me great joy." I smiled gently. "And you - you're not upset I didn't tell you this until now?"
"Well-" He frowned. "Is there anything else I do not know? About you? Are...you...have you been putting on an act with your personality? Do you...actually love me, or is that part of your Egyptian persona?"
"The only thing I kept secret was my name and place of origin. I've not lied about anything else. I swear it."
"Then I understand why you did."
I eased down onto my back, and so did he. This time, I put my arm beneath him and held him close. He relaxed into me.
We stayed that way the whole night, though at some point one of us left the doze we were in to darken the room again. In the morning, I kissed him awake and asked if he wanted tea. He said coffee.
As we left the room, Azizah stared at Raoul walking after me. He stopped short, and she quickly looked down, started for her own room, and proclaimed in our language, "I see nothing. Do not tell me anything about this, Ibrahim, please."
"Azizah-"
"If you are happy, dear brother, then do not say anything else!" She waved a hand above her head as though to stop me from speaking more words. "I hear nothing! I see nothing!" And she closed the door before she could hear, or see, anything else.