We make each other alive. Does it matter if it hurts?

— Ingmar Bergman

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Him

He walks down the darkened pathway under the midnight moon with his mind amiss. The echos of his footsteps mingle with his horse's as it trots behind him. He holds its reins in one hand and his unsheathed sword in another. The silence in the streets bites him but he's heedless to it.

One of his men steps forward to take the reins from him as he approaches the house. He hands it to him and sheaths his sword, pushing open the door and entering the house. His friend is already awaiting him inside and smiles at him in welcome.

"You're late tonight. I thought you weren't coming."

"There are just more and more things weighing me down."

"Tell me about it."

"Spies I'll butcher once found to get them off my mind." He sits down on a chair and throws his head back, feeling drained, disheveled, placing a hand over his chest as he adds, "And she who's taking roots in my heart which I cannot cut."

Her

She doesn't know what is love. She doesn't have a word or definition for it. It isn't an image to her either which she can outline, neither anything definite she can touch. Love is abstract. It's like a dull pain within you that you cannot pinpoint-- within the chest, inside the heart, and everywhere in the blood and bones. Or maybe in the soul. Noura doesn't know. All she knows is that it hurts, terribly so, and nothing can cure the ache.

The moon is no more a sharp silver contrast in the sky as the first rays of sun kiss the horizon. The corridors of the palace are silent like a graveyard and the torches lit them no less eerily. Hafez follows her as she roams through them to find her way outside.

The early morning hour is a portrait of deep blue and faded gold. The breeze is cool and calm and the air around her doesn't suffocate her. She walks down the pathway inside into the garden. No one is around except the guards appointed on duty, who are standing much far away to disturb her peace.

She swans around aimlessly, quietly, not bothering to strike a conversation with Hafez like she usually does. Her thoughts have been gyrating around issues that are like a claw to her throat. No matter what she does, she cannot lull them, neither can she find an escape in sleep.

Eskander. She lifts her face to the sky, a glimpse of God's might on its full display. What if...

She leaves those thoughts incomplete, unable to allow herself any grievous assumptions. She cannot bear a possibility of him suffering-- of losing him. She never has considered a life without him.

A shadow in the distance catches her attention. His familiar form grows closer as he proceeds towards them. Noura turns in the opposite direction, in no mood to be dealing with him at the moment.

"Wait."

"I seek solitude, Adam, not company," she responds wearily.

Despite her refusal, he steps nearer and Hafez reaches for his sword, coming to stand in front of her. "You heard the lady."

Adam disregards him, looking at her intently. Noura sighs, knowing he's not going to back off. She nods for Hafez to permit him and he comes forward.

"Walk with me." It's a soft request, and he doesn't give her a chance to protest as he begins his stroll ahead of her. For all her unwillingness, she still keeps up with him.

They wander mindlessly for a while, not paying care to directions or paths, listening to the colloquy of leaves every time they rustle, before Adam lowly asks, "You couldn't sleep?"

"What makes you think that?"

"What more reason could you have to be here at dawn?"

She looks at him. "What reason do you have?"

"I'm on duty."

"Looks like it," she remarks with a scoff.

"Something troubles you?" he inquiries more, ignoring her sarcasm.

"Why do you care?"

"Why can't I?"

"Because you're no one to me," she seethes, sending him a side glare. "Because you're the reason I'm stuck here in the first place."

"Noura." He stops walking, turning to her, and she does so too, crossing her arms. "I'm not no one. I'm your husband and you've married me, in case you've forgotten."

"What does it matter?"

"It matters to me." He glowers at her, but it lacks any anger. "Can you for once be decent to me instead of pulling your dagger at me and trying to kill me? Maybe we can come to common terms."

"Highly unlikely," she spits. "You bother me, Adam."

"So do you bother me."

"You get on my nerves."

"And I can't seem to get you off mine."

Noura frowns. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He scrubs his face, stealing away his eyes and motioning towards a bench. "Can we sit down for a talk?"

"I agreed for a walk didn't mean you get to ask for a talk too."

"Please," he grits out his request, sounding almost desperate. "Why must you make it so hard for us, azizi?"

"Well," she goes to sit down on the bench, "now when you insist, that too nicely, maybe I shouldn't refuse."

Adam exhales, almost in relief, coming to stand by her. Noura looks up at him.

"You're waiting for an invitation?"

"For your permission," he says. "You won't pull your dagger on me this time, right?"

She rolls her eyes but cannot help the smile forming on her lips. "I won't. Don't pretend to be so scared now."

He sits down beside her, leaning slightly closer as he hushes his voice. "You don't actually have a dagger on you, farasha."

Her hand instantly flies to her waist. True enough, in her distraught state, she forgot to take it with her. Before she could react in any way, Adam grasps her arm.

"I didn't bring you here to cause you any harm. At least have some faith in me." He holds out her dagger to her, the one she threw at him in his room. "I'll return this to you, but you've to assure me you won't attack me with it."

She nods slowly in agreement and reaches for it.

"I'll trust you." Adam hands it to her. "Don't break my trust."

Noura takes it from him, gingerly putting it under her waistband. "You make me want to stab someone," she comments lightheartedly with a half smile.

"That someone is me."

"Who else could it be?"

"The general?"

Noura sends him a glare. "You can dream."

"I actually do."

"You've very dark sense of humor."

"I'm not joking."

She shushes down, peering at him. There's no hint of playfulness in his eyes. They're the same black pits that swallow all light. She looks away from him down to her hands, turning them palms up.

"I'd cut these hands before hurting him," she mumbles.

Adam reaches out to hold her hand in his, taking her by surprise. "Not until I'm alive."

She turns to him, utterly stunned by his gesture, and tries to pull her hand free. He doesn't let go.

"Why not?" she asks.

He interlocks their fingers together. "Because you're my wife. Why would I allow you to hurt yourself for another man?"

"I won't be for long though." She struggles with him to tug free herself, the feeling of his skin against hers suddenly sending her rationality spiraling out of the orbit. "And it's not just any man-- it's Eskander. You know I love him."

This only makes him pull her more to himself, holding her hand in both of his and bringing it between his knees. "I had gathered, but you didn't have to confess it out loudly. It stings, you know?"

"Because of our marriage?"

"However you perceive it." He inclines towards her. "Does he reciprocate your feelings?"

"He does," she declares honestly. "He wants to marry me."

"He said that to you?"

"Yes."

Noura watches the lines of displeasure form on his forehead, the timbre of his voice taut and strained as he asks, "What did you say?"

She searches his eyes, once more tugging her hand back but unable to free it of his hold. "You're acting exceptionally strange today."

"Answer me," he insists impatiently, face drawing another inch nearer.

She edges away, heart seemingly beating against her throat at the unexpected proximity. "To wait," she replies in a whisper.

"I thought I made myself clear when I said I don't want late night love confessions between you two," he grumbles in annoyance.

She looks at him, both confused and enraged. "As if you and the queen are any better."

"You're jealous?"

"Are you?" she huffs.

"Yes."

His open admittance leaves her dumbfounded. She purses her lips, staring at him, and silence settles between the two. An idea begins to form in her head, and though she knows of the risk associated with it, she decides to take the chance.

"I've a solution."

Adam perks up in interest. "I'm listening."

Noura clears her throat, nodding bashfully at their joined hands. "Will you let go? It's distracting."

The corners of his mouth twitch up but he manages to mask any emotions. Without anymore persistence, he releases her hand and she's quick to scoot away from him.

"So," she begins, "you assured Ameer Zakariya and Al Shafay that I'm married and can't marry the Khalifa, correct?"

He nods.

"Well, since the caliph knows I'm already married, but with the rising issues of the kingdom, I'm sure he has bigger problems to deal with than searching for my spouse. So I was thinking if we divorce now, we can go our own separate ways before our relationship is discovered. It'll save us both any trouble and--"

"No," Adam sharply cuts her rambling, scowling in disapproval at her suggestion. "You think I'm a puppet you can play?"

"Of course not." She fidgets with her fingers anxiously. "But what's the problem with this? We can't be bound to each other forever. And you can go and be with the queen as you like," she urges him to agree, almost pleading him.

"It's not about me. It's about you, isn't it?" His eyes take on a deadly hue. "You want to marry the general now."

"Now? I've always wanted to marry him." She swallows and looks away, working her jaw. "As if you didn't know this already."

"Illicit," she hears him say. "It's criminal to be with me and speak of another man like this. I almost want to murder him and punish you."

"Why does it matter?" She shrugs a shoulder. "Who are you to me?"

"Your husband." He grips her chin harshly and turns her to face him, helping himself from snapping as he grits again, "Your damn husband."

"I keep forgetting," she jeers, but her voice wavers. "You can't punish me anymore than this. What more could you do to hurt me than the damage you've already done?" She digs her nails into his wrist. "What more there is?"

The storm in his orbs begins to settle, the black hell dying out. Suddenly, his eyes grow tender towards her, and the ocean in them leaps to drown her. She cannot survive the waves of them, sinking to the bottom from where there's no coming back. Noura feels sparks over her skin where he touches her.

"Don't cry," he hushes her gently, but his words hit her like an axe in the head. Startled, she pulls away from him.

"I'm not," she denies.

But when her vision blurs, she realizes that unknowingly, unwillingly, her heart has succumbed to the torment its been put through.

"Don't, please," Adam repeats himself, sounding as if begging. "I don't know how to deal with crying women."

His statement gets a short laugh from her, but despite herself, she cannot make herself to stop. "Why, the queen never cries?"

"Arwa does so too," he confesses, much to her amazement. "But not to me."

She cannot say anything more as he reaches forward to wipe his thumbs across her cheeks, disabling her, transfixing her, stealing away from her any logical thoughts she could muster.

"My God, I've hurt you this bad, haven't I?" He looks in pain himself, almost physical, as if seeing her like this is an affliction for him as well. "I've made you cry."

Her breath hitches as she tries to reply, but cannot form anything coherent. His presence this close to her shatters her defenses. She doesn't know what is it, but she cannot bring herself to pull away.

"All my life, I haven't known soft, Noura," he tells her, for the first time his expression and speech vulnerable like cracked glass. "I was very young when I was taken away from my home, beaten and lashed so much so that it became a numbing feeling. So when I touch you with fire, please forgive me. My intention is never to burn you. But this is the only way I know."

"Adam," she finally manages to say his name, her hands fisting in her lap, completely disregarding that they were sitting in a garden in the open and not safely in the confines of their room. "I never meant to make things any harder for you, but you've done your part dragging me into this sinister place, whether willingly or not. Now there is this fear which is like a noose around my neck. I want to return home to my mother, but I'm afraid if I go, I might never see Eskander again. The thought of war, of loss, it strangles me."

"I don't know how the general became your lover from your brother, neither do I like him, but I acknowledge his skills. He's well trained and he masters strategies. So even if this palace turns to shambles and nothing remains, believe me, he's cunning enough to find a way out for himself." He lowers his hands from her face to her own in her lap. "Why do you think he's on this rank? Ameer Zakariya thinks he excels all. And quite frankly and sadly, I think so too."

"That still doesn't guarantee his life," she mutters in defeat.

"You fear for him, but you know what I'm afraid of?"

"What?"

"That he'll break your heart." He tilts his head as if to kiss her, and her eyes widen in shock, her heart fainting in its cage. "That you, like me, are just blinded in love." He lips fall to her neck and she gasps quietly when his breath caresses her skin as he speaks, "But if your heart gets broken like mine," he feather kisses his way up to her earlobe, "then come to me and you'll find me waiting for you."

"What are you--" Noura chokes as he nuzzles the angle of her jaw. "Stop."

"Make me." He pulls away with a roguish grin, the lucid mischief coloring his features tangling her intellect. "Do I still bother you?"

She tries to glare at him but fails. "Very much so."

He once more tips his head forward and she instantly edges away, making him chuckle deep in his throat, the sound of it sending the air around them into vibrations.

"Then fly away, farasha, before I bother you any more than this." His gaze drops to her lips, then back up, murmuring silently, "Run."

And she does, gathering her dress as she runs away, not stopping for a second to glance back. Only when she comes face to face with Hafez does she realize that she had totally forgotten about his presence close by. His eyes shy away from her, his own ears tinted red, and her cheeks flare up in embarrassment.

"Don't tell Eskander," she commands feebly.

He simply produces a box to her in response. "This came for you."

Noura takes it from him, opening it urgently, only to find it filled with jasmines and a note. Her fingers tremble as she unfolds it, this time finding his name under the message too which hits her like an arrow to her chest.

Either you come to me or I come to you. You decide, malika.

Al Hadi.

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Thoughts?

Thank you to each of you who has been reading, supporting, and loving Khalifa. I appreciate every vote given to it, and every comment you leave. I read them all and know that you make me smile.

All the love back,

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