Here's the next update. It's a bit dramatic. Let me know if it was too much so. I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter Three (Mareke)

I sat in the window seat in my room, staring at Adnan and his tutor. It had been nearly four months since my father had received word from the King of Gondor stating that he accepted the King of Harad's proposal of marriage to his daughter. I had never expected that outcome. It was too ridiculous to even imagine, but there I sat watching my son learn a second language.

It would be trying for us both. There were a range of languages spoken in Gondor from Westron to Sindarin. I had learned Sindarin as a child before the War blocked communication between the two Realms. The Elvish language was spoken among the more educated and polite, especially in Minas Tirith. I would be taking lessons in Westron upon our arrival to Minas Tirith. It had been deemed more important by the King of Gondor that Adnan and I learned and refreshed our Sindarin as we would mostly be communicating with those in the upper class. We could address the common people at a later date.

I stared out the window into the private area of my chambers. There was a pool there that was fed by the cool water of the River Harnen.

ooooOoooo

The day after our wedding, we were left in peace. Food and beverages were brought to the chambers we shared in the palace. They were the same rooms I had occupied all my life, but new furniture and decoratives had been brought in to mark the change of my marital status.

I had known Jibran all my life. My father had kept him very close to the throne since long before he was appointed as the highest ranking general in Harad. He was nearly a decade older than me, but I had known from a young age that he would be my husband. Because of that we were able to foster a friendship before we were ever wed.

I gently stood from the bed, trying not to jostle Jibran. The cool silk of my robe settled around my shoulders and I tied it around my waist, looking out the window. The heat could already be seen rippling off the tiles.

The bed rustled and I turned to study my new husband in his sleep. His long hair was unbound and it settled around the pillows. The wedding night had not been nearly as horrendous as I had been led to believe. In fact, it was quite enjoyable. Jibran was a statue of a man, made solely of muscle, that I found myself drawn to. As we had lain next to one another after our marriage was consummated, I had traced every single one of his scars on his chest, stomach and arms, my tears mingling with his sweat.

I felt different the next morning, though not necessarily in a bad way. Many of the women I knew were not as fortunate as I was. At that point I would not have said that I was in love with Jibran, but there seemed to be a mutual respect between us. Our lives would be easier if we tried to make our marriage as pleasant as possible. It was sealed already and there was no use fighting it. I imagined that we might have grown to love one another, but in that instance I was content with our friendship and physical connection.

"Mareke." I turned at the sound of the drowsy voice to see Jibran propped on an elbow looking at me, the sheet falling lower on his waist. "Come here."

I obliged easily and sat on the edge of the bed closest to him.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked, toying with the tie of my robe.

I nodded. "Very well." I pushed his hair back from his face. "You seemed to be enjoying your new bed."

He laughed softly. "The chambers of a princess are much more comfortable than those of a general, I can assure you. So far, I have quite enjoyed the transition."

"I am glad to hear it," I replied. "But you have not yet seen the best part."

I tugged on his hand gently and drew him to the window, pointing to the pool just outside my rooms. "It is quite refreshing on a day like today."

"Show me," he said.

I reached for a swimming slip, but Jibran plucked it from my hand. "There is no one to see us."

He had insisted that we would not need to be trailed by guards and attendants constantly. The thought of it irritated him as he was a man who had watched out for himself for as long as he could remember and he was quite accomplished with his weapons, never being unarmed or far from some form of defense.

When I was standing on the edge of the pool, near the steps, Jibran reached around me and untied the blue, silk robe so that it pooled at my feet. His rough hands settled on my hips for a moment before I slipped down into the cool water.

Jibran did not speak as he joined me as well. His strong arms pulled me into him and my legs wrapped around his waist. He moved so I was pressed against the wall of the pool and my head fell back onto the tiles as his lips found the point of my pulse in my neck.

ooooOoooo

"Your Grace, I believe the prince is too frustrated to carry on anymore today," the Sindarin tutor said, pulling me from my reverie of that blissful first day as a wife.

I turned in the seat and reached for Adnan, tears in his eyes.

"Thank you for your time," I said. "We shall rest up and be refreshed for tomorrow's lesson."

Adnan's bottom lip poked out and his lip trembled. "I do not want to do those lessons anymore."

I hauled him onto my lap and stroked his curls as he laid his head on my chest.

"It is difficult, I know," I murmured into his hair. "But you must be able to communicate in our new home. How will you make any friends if you cannot talk to them?"

"I do not care about new friends. I do not want to leave our home here."

I sighed. It was so difficult to try to convince a child of something that I was not looking forward to. If I could hardly understand the politics behind my impending marriage how was I supposed to explain the necessity of it to my son.

"The King of Gondor has been gracious enough to provide your tutor, Adnan. I know it is exhausting and frustrating, but we do not want to disappoint the King."

"Jidd (grandpa), is the King," he replied stubbornly.

"And he will be very disappointed as well if you do not make a good showing of Harad when we arrive in Gondor."

Being stern with my son over something that I hated to think about made my body ache. I did not wish to speak to him so harshly, but he must learn.

"Why do we not lay down and when we wake we will be in better spirits?" I suggested, standing with Adnan in my arms. Soon he would be too heavy to carry around as I had done for years.

Rather than taking him to his own bed, I laid him in mine and covered us both up with the red silk sheets. His body relaxed immediately as I put my fingers in his hair once more.

Every day, I experienced twinges of longing and grief so poignant I could not breathe. Looking at Jibran's son in exactly the same position that I used to study my husband in, forced the breath from my chest.

When Jibran had been preparing for the War, he would often come back to the marble palace late at night. He would force his men to ride until they reached home, not wanting to stop and delay any longer. I would always wake as he collapsed in the bed. I did not begrudge him his exhaustion.

I would stroke his hair in the exact way I did Adnan's, until his body would loosen and sink into sleep. Very few words were spoken on those nights. I only wanted my husband to feel as though he had a sanctuary to return to. Our time was limited before he would be away, fighting in the North and I did not want to mar what might have been our last memories with anything besides relaxation and tranquility.

I would wake on those mornings following his midnight (or later) arrivals, wrapped tightly in his strong arms. The heat was overpowering, but I never wiggled away from him. Right before the War, Jibran would wake and fetch Adnan from his bassinet at the foot of our bed so that he might join us for an hour of solitude before another day started.

I fell asleep lying next to Adnan that afternoon. He was not the only one taking lessons to prepare for our move. Though I already spoke the language, I was practicing with the tutor as well on learning the etiquette that was so prevalent in the court of Minas Tirith. I did not want to give the people of Gondor any reason to think that I was a barbarian so I learned everything from protocol at a public meal to how to dress for every occasion.

The door to my bedroom opened and I shot up immediately, alert at the intrusion. Very few people should have been entering my rooms without making their presence known.

I was surprised to see Na'man walking towards the bed.

"Brother," I said on edge. "What are you doing in here?"

He did not answer me and a chill ran down my spine. He did not even meet my gaze and instead had his dark eyes focused on my son.

"He grows to look more like his father every day," Na'man said quietly. "A sweet reminder for you, I am sure, Mareke."

"It is a comfort," I conceded carefully, not wanting to say too much. I knew that my brother feared the child lying next to me. Adnan had blood ties to the throne and the people were saying that he would be a much better fit as King because surely his father's courage also ran through his veins.

"The people will miss your son if you take him to Minas Tirith with you," Na'man said quietly. "Surely you could leave him here with mother and father?"

My blood curdled at his words. My brother sat next to my son and stroked his soft cheek with the back of his fingers. I ached to break the fine bones in his hand that looked as though they had never wielded more than a quill.

"I have already discussed that with father and we have decided that it would be best for Adnan to stay with his mother. He is too young to be left behind," I replied, trying to remain calm and not reveal what I knew of my brother.

"Perhaps he can be persuaded otherwise," Na'man said, standing once more. "I would hate to see someone else taken from you at the hands of the Gondorans."

I did not say another word as he left the room. I collapsed back on the bed next to my son and pulled him into my chest, not caring if he woke up.

It seemed as though there was nowhere safe for Adnan. The horrible part was that I trusted the strangers in the North more than I did my own brother. His veiled threat made me actually eager to leave my home.

Na'man and I had been close when we were younger, but eventually it became obvious that he did not have what it would take to be a King, especially a King of Harad. My father had various military experiences and he had led his men into battle countless times. It became apparent that Na'man was a coward. He had never enjoyed his lessons in combat and had hidden away from them as often as he could get away with it.

This caused a sadness in my father as his son was not what a King of Harad should be. He tried everything, including teaching Na'man himself, though he never found the valor that would be necessary. In turn, Na'man began to resent my father. The friction had only grown worse over the years as my father grew nearer and nearer to relinquishing his throne to his son.

My father had never said anything to me about what would happen to Adnan when he abdicated. I did not think he would he would skip over his own son for his toddler grandson, but my brother could not face such a threat to what was supposed to be his.

I let Adnan sleep for another half hour. All of the lessons truly were trying on him and I needed time to regroup after the visit from my conniving brother.

Adnan woke easily from his nap and went on his own way to play with his toys in his room. I paced in front of the window that looked out on my private pool. I could not rush my departure anymore than it already was. I wished that Harad had more allies. It was impossible for me to retreat to a friendly Realm, as no one but Gondor had extended a peace offering to my people. It was my job as the wife of the King of Gondor to show that we were now a peaceful people and realized that we had fought on the wrong side in order to convince them to strike up treaties with my father.

It would be another eight months before we were to leave the City of Serpents and I dreaded thinking of what could go wrong in such a long time.

The door to my bedroom opened once more and my mother walked in.

"I just saw your brother. He said he stopped by for a visit earlier."

I nodded, not sure what to say about his veiled threats. A mother's love was an incredible thing, but even my mother knew that there was less and less good in Na'man as time passed.

"I have urged your father to take extra care of exactly what Na'man hears from outside these walls," she said. "The less he knows of the people's discontent in the next few months, the better off Adnan will be."

"If only we could leave earlier," I laughed a bit scornfully. "I never thought I would say those words."

"I understand that this puts you in a very difficult position." She took a step closer to me and rubbed my upper arms. "You feel cool."
"It was a chilling experience," I replied.

"Where is Adnan?"

"Playing in his room," I said, freeing myself from her grasp.

She sighed. "You will have to take extra care to watch over him."

I laughed again. "As though I do not already run myself ragged to keep him constantly in my sight." The emotion of the situation was coming to the surface at a rapid rate.

"Mareke," my mother said gently.

"Why has all of this happened to me?" I demanded wildly, anger trumping tears for the time being. "I never fought what was in store for my life. I took it on graciously!" I sat heavily at the small table in the corner.

My mother knelt in front of me and took both of my hands, putting the backs of them to her soft, warm cheeks. "I know, Mareke. None of this is fair."

I shook my head, the anger subsiding to a dull throb. "I have no one to help me protect him. I cannot do it on my own. Soon we will be in a foreign land where we are less than welcome. I thought it has been hard here without Jibran, but what will happen away from my home where I do not know the games that everyone is playing and my son will more than likely be just as at risk."

I saw the pain on my mother's face. Four years ago, I would not have recognized the look of helplessness. It was not until my own son was born and had encountered situations in which I could not help him that I understand exactly what that felt like. My mother was looking at me and I knew she understood my pain and fear, but in reality there was not much more she could do to help me.

ooooOoooo

Three more months passed without incident and I was beginning to think that we might be able to get out of Harad and into Gondor before anything horrible happened.

One afternoon, I settled Adnan into his own bed for a nap after a long morning of Sindarin lessons. I closed the door gently behind me and sat down at a small table where a piece of parchment and a quill were waiting on me. My father had been urging me to write a letter to the King of Gondor since the engagement had been made official, but I did not have a clue as what to say to the man I was to marry in less than half a year. I put my head in my hands, but eventually picked the quill up and wrote the most formal, impersonal letter I had ever written.

It took all of an hour to scratch out five or six sentences about how much I was looking forward to our impending meeting and wedding. My father would probably not be pleased with the lack of effort I had put in to charm the foreign king, but I did not quite see the point in charming him if our marriage was already sealed.

When I had sent the letter off with one of the servants milling about my room, I went back into Adnan's room to wake him so that he might sleep that night.

At first, I did not see the danger lurking on the floor of my son's bedroom. I studied his even breathing and damp curls in the hot rays of sunlight, before I saw something move on the part of his sheet that was hanging off his bed.

My breath caught in my chest as I realized that it was a black scorpion, slowly climbing toward the warmth of my son, the curve of its tail poised to strike as it moved closer to my unaware boy.

Scorpions were not uncommon in Harad, but they never entered the palace. There were servants whose specific jobs centered around keeping the scorpions and other poisonous creatures away from the royal family.

In that instant, I did not think of myself and how exposed my own body was to the venom of the scorpion that was leisurely making its way toward Adnan. I hurried back to the table where I had been writing my letter to the King of Gondor and snatched up the letter opener I used to break seals.

Taking a deep breath as I re-entered the nursery, I lunged at the creature without making a sound and pierced the hard outer skeleton of the thing right in the center of its body, impaling it through the mattress, so that it wriggled to free itself of the pain.

None too gently, I jerked the sleeping Adnan into my arms and hurried back through the door, seeing three more of the ghastly, deadly creatures making their way from the other door in the nursery that led to the main corridor in the section of the palace where the royal family lived.

"Send for my mother immediately!" I shouted at one of the servants who was still tidying my room. "If you do not make haste I will have both of your feet!"

The young woman, glanced at me quickly, in shock, and then sprinted from the room.

Adnan had screamed at being so hastily and unceremoniously removed from his bed and I tried to soothe him as best as I could, though I was seeing red and unable to focus on him.

"What in all of Arda is going on?" My mother demanded breathlessly, as she came flying into the room in a most undignified fashion for her.

"I will tell you later," I said, again hastily moving Adnan into her arms.

They looked at each other, bewildered, Adnan continuing to scream.

"Whatever you do, do not enter his bedroom," I ordered.

"Why ever not?"

"Someone let four scorpions into his room while he napped." I did not say another word as I flew from my chambers and down the hall to my brother's study.

Na'man was laughing with one of his advisors as I pushed the door open so hard it slammed into the marble wall.

"Sister, whatever are you doing?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, but not rising to meeting me.

"You know exactly why I am here," I said in a dangerously low voice.

"I am sure I do not," he replied.

"Do not play games with me. When I went to wake my son from his nap there was a scorpion on his bed and three more crawling towards him!"

"Then it sounds as though the servants in your and Adnan's chambers have not been doing their job properly. This news saddens me greatly. I would hate for anything bad to happen to my nephew."

The tone of his voice made my skin crawl. "No, it sounds as though someone was paid to plant the creatures, while the guards were paid to let it happen!" I slammed my hands onto his desk. "Stand up and talk to me like a man, you coward."

Na'man stood up with great haste at the challenge, but before he could speak I was already moving on.

"I have not wanted to believe what the people outside of these walls say about you and your previous actions and how bravely...or not...you performed during the War, but now I cannot help to understand that they speak the truth."

"How dare you speak to me like that!"

"I can say whatever I like to the bastard who would stoop so low as to harm a three year old." I looked him dead in the eyes though he was a bit taller than me. "You have attempted to harm the wrong child."

"Sister, I do not know of what you are accusing me of, truly. You are flustered from today's events that is all."

I rolled my eyes. "You are backing down from a fight with a woman! What would the men who fought so valiantly say if they could see you now?" I demanded, lunging towards him, not trying to hit him, but to tear at his vest and tunic until the scorpion tattoo on his chest and shoulder was exposed.

Na'man stared at me as I stared at the tattoo and then back into his eyes. I spoke lowly again, "You are as contemptible and poisonous as this animal."

Before I even felt the movement, the back of his hand had collided with my cheek and I instantly tasted the blood that trickled into my mouth.

The sting of the pain brought me back to my senses. I had said too much. I had angered him, which was not good for my son when there was only me to do my best to protect him.

Before turning on my heel to leave, I spat the blood that had pooled in my mouth onto Na'man's tunic and exposed chest. The image of the scorpion tattoo covered in my blood sent a chill over my entire body.

Thank you so much for reading. I would love to know what you thought. Reviews seriously make my day! I also love to hear any ideas you have regarding this story.

Happy reading,

Avonmora