Thread: Rebellion in al-Nithiel: The Tragedy of the Onyx Queen

Okay, clearly shit needs a ton of work, because I have no idea where I am going with it all. What did the seer say? Shamila asked, legs kicked up onto a barrel as she picked at her nails. The blood of the king shall once more sit in judgement. Rashida repeated, voice a reverent hallow tone. She fingered at the onyx ring she wore, the last the jewelry from her late husband she hadnt yet sold. And what does that mean? Harmah, she breathed, Harmah will retake his fathers throne. Or I will retake it, in his name. Are you so sure? Sounds like it could refer to any of Suleimans children. My husband sired no bastards. Snapped Rashida, offended by the mere implication, Harmah is the only one. What about the child you carry? It is Suleimans, is it not? She blanched, instinctively covering her stomach, an act that had the opposite of her intended effect, Im barren. Not from this angle, you arent. Icant carry a child to birth. I lost the first three. I dont expect this one to make it either, unless the Gods are cruel. Shamila looked at her, nodding, before smirking, Told you that you still carry hope. What from that makes you think I have hope? Rashida harangued, exasperation etched into the fine lines on her face. If you were really so certain there were no chance for that child, you would have taken care of it. You wouldnt risk your life on something that could never be. Rashida was quiet for a while, unable to meet Shamilas eyes. When she did speak, her voice was hardly more than a whisper, and cracking still, Itsits the last thing Suleiman left with me Looking up, brown eyes were wet with tears, just threatening to break through into a sob, I cant just Shamila pulled her into a hug, squeezing her as the tears came up, Its okay. They stayed like that for a moment, Rashida clinging to the remnants of her late husband, unable to let go despite her cynicism. As she began to calm herself, Shamila spoke again, But you have to admit you still carry hope. Rashida laughed now, through the tears she wiped from her eyes, I guess I do, huh? Rashida al-Udain! I must say, pregnancy is quite becoming on you, Rudain announced, leering at her figure. I am afraid you are mistaken, Rudain. Ive merely grown soft in the sorrow of widowhood. Nonsense. You have the glow of a woman ready to welcome her first born into the world. A pity that Suleimans pride got in the way of him meeting this child. Is Harmah excited to have a sibling, at least? Rashida glanced at Rudain for a moment, searching for answers in the demons face. What did they know? Harmah perished, when the palace was sacked, She lied with a steady tone. Rudain examined her for a moment, before pouting. My condolences. Another victim of Suleimans hubris, the demon prince sighed, I do hope you have learned something from this whole ordeal. A lesson in humility and obsequiousness, perhaps? I am afraid I do not follow, Rashida challenged, refusing to show fear or anger on her features. I am trying to invite you back into your home, my dear. Your child should grow up in the family home, and you should rule beside me, as you ruled beside Suleiman. And one day perhaps your child too will rule this land, at my side. Remaining dispassionate was difficult, as Rudain made their offer. Hard not to show the disgust in her eyes, as the demon was already laying claim to the child growing within her. Still, she had to be careful how she responded, careful not to stir the demons rage. Too many memories there, for me to ever return. I find that life on the seas suits me better. It always has, really. Whether the gods were cruel or kind, Rashida could not say, but she did indeed birth a healthy baby girl. Taraji al-Udain, Suleimans daughter. The child they had tried in vain to conceive for years, a babe whose was half lungs, based on her squealing cry. Rashida had finally allowed herself a moments rest, sagging back into the mattress as her daughter dozed. Assuring herself she was just going to rest her eyes a moment, the creaking of the door opening pulled her back from the brink of sleep. Shamila and Harmah, her first mate holding the boy back by his shoulders. Sorry, but he was worried about you. I promised he could see you, once it was all done. Rashida managed an exhausted smile, and nodded, beckoning Harmah closer. It took all the restraint the seven-year-old could muster not to run to her, but he sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over to look at the infant. This is your sister, Taraji. Do you want to hold her? Harmah eyes were wide, full of childlike wonder as he gleefully nodded. Guiding his hands, she placed the child in his arms, and wrapped her own arms around him. When he was still alive, she wanted nothing more than to share this moment with Suleiman. Especially after the first, and second miscarriage. She wanted to triumph over that misfortune, celebrate their victory over nature. In some ways, while watching the excitement in Harmahs eyes, so much like his fathers, it felt as if Suleiman was there, with them now. Sharing the moment with her. It was nice, to let go of some of that bitterness for the first time in months. To feel as if her family were all together now, and it would be alright. I love you so much, she whispered to the boy, to the babe, to the ghost of Suleiman, planting a kiss in his hair.