The Palace was bustling with the rushing footsteps of maids and servants as the evening drew closer.

Abbas stepped out of his room, glancing down the corridors, which were to his satisfaction, empty except for two guards who stood in their usual spots. His curiosity brought him out of his room and he made his way to the Grand Hall, passing many maids and servants who were all too occupied with their duties to notice the Prince sneak in.

The Grand Hall was crowded with people organizing and decorating the room for the banquet later on. The busy atmosphere made Abbas feel nervous and so he shrunk back and ducked behind one of the magnificent marble pillars, spotting Harun standing in the center and directing orders to everyone. He should have been there with his brother helping but decided Harun could handle the situation fine without him. Abbas leaned back against the pillar, feeling comforted by the cool stone, and gazed around.

The Grand Hall itself was a living art of magnificent architecture. The domed ceiling was made of glass which allowed for a glimpse of the evening sky, surrounded by intricate patterns each hand-carved into the hard stone. Colours of crimson, teal and gold swirled within the patterns, blowing life into them as they climbed the walls and pillars. Large arched windows spanned the entirety of the walls but were now concealed with draping maroon-coloured curtains. On one end of the hall stood a swirling marble staircase made of the same milk-coloured stone which leads to the balcony level. The upper floor looped around the circumference of the hall, held up by many magnificent pillars, providing a view of the entire expanse of the hall. Gold scriptures of Arabic calligraphy hung all around the hall, displaying the many beautiful names of Allah.

No matter how many times he had been in the hall, Abbas' eyes would always spot something new, as if the patterns constantly morphed into new shapes. He was one to appreciate art rather than create them, for sadly, his skills mirrored that of toddlers.

Harun had noticed his brother's figure standing by the shadows and it took him every inch to stop himself from running to Abbas. Half of his was still plastered in white, from below his eyes all the way to the top of his lip. As much as he wanted to approach him, Harun knew what his brother wanted the most right now was space, and he wanted to respect that. He couldn't imagine how much his brother was suffering because of his wound.

Abbas was certainly showing signs of healing if he had the courage to come out of his room tonight, and Harun couldn't have been over the moon to see him here. As he watched his brother slip away, his smile dipped at the permanent frown etched on his face, droplets of sorrow inking his heart.

Abbas was lonely, really lonely.

***

The soft thrum of drums and chatter proved to the Prince that the feast had begun. Abbas peered into the hall from its towering doors and felt his heart throbbing furiously. Doubt started clouding his mind, and he suddenly began feeling afraid to face his comrades and despite cursing himself for acting this cowardly, the butterflies in his stomach remained. It had been months since he saw them since they had all returned from battle.

"What do I do?" He mumbled, hiding his face in his hands. Abbas had requested for the royal physician to cover his gruesome stitches, earlier and so now half of his face was concealed in bandaging.

"You do know you can enter?"

The Prince jump and immediately huddle against a stone pillar.

"Who is it?" he scowled with his back to the sound of the voice.

"Abbas, it is only I," Harun replied.

Abbas faced him, his shoulders still hunched and his head low. "You scared me,"

"I had to, after seeing you hide behind the doors,"

"I was not hiding," Abbas grumbled.

"Go inside then, your comrades have been waiting for you to grace their presence,"

"I think I left something in my study,"

The Prince was about to turn back when Harun grabbed his shoulders and began pushing him through the entrance of the hall. "Oh no, you don't,"

"What are you doing?!" Abbas refuted, clenching his teeth.

"Preventing you from going back," His brother whispered, with a smile, before he turned his attention to the crowd. "I thank you all for waiting, my brother, Prince Abbas has finally arrived!"

His men looked wide-eyed at him, before grins broke out, some even running to clasp his hand. As the crowd formed around Abbas, Harun let go of his brother and stepped back, letting a beam take over his expression. He chuckled. Never had he witnessed Abbas looking so flabbergasted in his twenty-eight years of life.

Abbas continued to shake the hands of his comrades, as they praised Allah for his safe return, none mentioning his bandaged face. Finally, as the crowd dispersed, he noticed his dearest friends, their welcoming smiles as bright as the sun.

"Abbas, Habibi! It has been so long!" General Khaleel bellowed, patting his back. The Prince had made a strict rule that his closest friends address him by his name, whenever they were together for personal reasons.

"Khaleel is right! Even though I returned with you, I have not seen you since." Musa teased. Even though he knew his friend was joking, Abbas immediately felt guilty. Musa had taken command, whilst he was injured and returned him home safely to get treated and not once did he visit him or thank him.

"I sincerely apologise. Thank you for all you have done, whilst I was down." He said taking Musa's hand and pulling him into a hug.

"Do not worry about it. I am happy to see that you are well, Alhamdulillah."

"We are all glad to see you are healthy." Came a gruff voice from behind.

Abdul Hameed stepped forward and Abbas took his mentor's hand smiling. The grey-haired general was the eldest of them all to still be serving and leading the Balqaas battalion, who had not only mentored the Prince but also trained his friends in combat and battle logistics from an early age. Abbas had always held a close relationship with him and thought of him as a father figure more than his own.

"Ustad, I am happy to see you still as young as ever." He said playfully, earning a boisterous laugh from the old man.

It was just like the old times. After spending months alone, Abbas felt warmth emanating from his friends, melting the sheath of ice in his heart. For the first time that month, he laughed and conversed with his friends as if the scar had never existed.

***

Abdul Hameed let the young men catch up, the sight of them bringing up fond memories of his own youth. He strode away from them to the tables laid out with the most lavish of foods, desserts and drinks. Helping himself to a glass of pomegranate juice, he was reminded of his eldest, who loved the fruit just as much as he did.

"General Abdul Hameed."

The grey-bearded general turned to face the King, who greeted him with a smile.

"Salam, your Highness." He said, giving a slight nod and shaking the King's hand.

"It is good to see you, old friend. How are your family? I presume they are well, InshAllah?"

"Alhamdulillah they are. The Prince looks as happy as ever."

"Yes, the queen and I have been so worried about him, especially after we expelled him from going to battle again," King Ilyaas said with a frown.

"Ah yes, It must have been hard for him, but I am glad he is enjoying himself now."

"But I made things worse by mentioning marriage." King Ilyaas sighed, his voice lined with guilt.

"Marriage? That is wonderful news!" Abdul Hameed exclaimed.

"If only it was that simple," The King sighed again, explaining the shenanigans of the past few months.

"To think this all happened whilst we were away. SubhanAllah, I can imagine how the poor Prince felt," He said with pity, definitely having had his fair share of marriage problems concerning his daughter.

"I must say I have experienced a lot of this myself. My daughter Haifa, may Allah bless her, has no hope left either,"

"Ah yes, I remember your daughter. She was the one who was treated here in the royal infirmary, am I correct?"

King Ilyaas clearly remembered the night Abdul Hameed carried his blood-soaked daughter across the Palace to the wards. The king had granted his dear friend's help for he was partly to blame for the danger he had put the general's family in.

"You are quite right." Abdul Hameed said, remembering that night all too well, and the favour he owed to the king.

"It is hard for the children, but obviously it is worse for the parents. It is my entire fault she was injured, and now no one will marry her," He rasped, sadness taking over his expressions. King Ilyaas felt pity for him. The General was growing old, and so was he.

"Abdul Hameed, as a father, I must take this opportunity to ask if you may return the favour," The King started.

Abdul Hameed looked startled at how serious the King looked but regained his composition.

"Of course!"

"Will you consider the Prince for your daughter?"

Abdul Hameed held the table in fear of collapsing from shock. "Y-your Highness,"

"General, as the days pass, I see the warmth leave his eyes and I fear it will only be a matter of time before his heart turns to stone,"

"I understand and of course am eternally grateful that you even mentioned her, but why my daughter? She is neither of wealth or royal heritage," He sputtered but the King placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"But she is the daughter of a man I trust so very dearly. I know she has grown up in a good family and has been loved, and that is all that matters to me. Heritage and position do not matter in my eyes." King Ilyaas smiled.

Abdul Hameed no longer could see a king but the eyes of a father who would do anything for the happiness of his son. 

"BarakAllahu feek, for your kindness, but I do not know if my daughter is suitable for living the life of a Royal. I know the Prince will cherish her, but please let me discuss this with her,"

"Of course! Please do not be burdened by my request, for it is her decision. I only wish for a chance to see the happiness of both our children and I feel that they can achieve it together," He explained.

Abdul Hameed didn't know what to feel, but as he thought about what the king had said, maybe just maybe they could be happy.

***

"Baba, please tell me you are jesting," Haifa said blankly.

Her father had called her into his study to talk about a serious matter, and after explaining, Haifa was left bewildered.

"I am being serious. You will meet His Highness, Prince Abbas tomorrow for a marriage proposal,"

"Baba, I-I don't know what to say," She stuttered. "Are you absolutely sure the King said that?"

Haifa's heart was beating furiously against her chest. She needed some additional confirmation.

Before her father could stop her, she bellowed out, "Mama, can you come here for a moment?"

Abdul Hameed's brows furrowed in confusion and he let out a deep sigh, running a hand over his grey beard.

"Yes Azeezati, what is it?" her mother replied, peaking in before shutting the door behind her.

"Mama, is it true?"

"What is? Habibi, what is Haifa asking about?" she said looking at her husband for answers.

"You haven't told Mama about this?" Haifa questioned.

"I wanted to talk to you first about it, before telling your mother and Diya." Her father sighed, wiping his face with his hands, knowing his efforts were futile now.

"Tell me what? Habibi? Haifa?"

Yumna looked between her daughter and husband for answers.

"King Ilyaas has chosen Haifa as a potential prospect for Prince Abbas. He has invited our family to the Palace so the two can meet," Her husband replied.

"That's wonderful news!" her mother clapped before the door to the study swung open.

"No way!" Diya yelled. "Baba is this true?!"

Abdul Hameed sighed again. Of course, his curious youngest had been eavesdropping.

"Yes, it is true! Now, will you all sit down so we can discuss this?" He shouted, trying to suppress the migraine forming. They all sat down quietly.

"Habibi, you should have told me earlier so I can prepare our clothes!"

"I wanted to tell Haifa first. But now that you are here, I shall say it again. King Ilyaas has generously invited us over to the Palace tomorrow and Haifa will get to meet the Prince,"

"But Baba, I can't," Haifa stammered, her voice shaking.

"Why? You have done this so many times,"

"Baba, this is different! It is the Prince we are talking about here! It just doesn't make sense. We all know that I'm not a normal girl, what if they find out about my scar? Will the King and Queen accept me to be worthy of their son? Baba may be one of the greatest General's of our country but we never engaged in the luxuries others have, we're not part of their world," Haifa rambled on nervously.

"Haifa," Her mother sighed, rubbing a hand down Haifa's back. Her daughter wasn't wrong.

The more she thought about it, the greater the fear of entering an unknown world grappled her. Haifa brought her hands up to her face, closing her eyes in an attempt to get a grip of herself and calm her raging thoughts.

They all waited for her until finally, she lifted her head and parted her hands, brushing away her hair and any remnants of anxiousness.

"Haifa, in all honesty, I owe His Highness, King Ilyaas a favour," He explained.

"For what?" She asked curiously, despite knowing the reason. The scar on her abdomen throbbed in response.

"The night of the incident. You might not remember clearly, but I had you treated at the Royal Wards. King Ilyaas was generous enough to help and I promised to pay him back for his kindness. Please understand, it would be an embarrassment if we don't attend,"

Of course, Haifa remembered. That day, she was so sure she would die as she bled across the halls of the palace.

The embarrassment would turn into something far greater when news reached others that the General had declined an invitation to the Palace. Haifa was well aware of how the words would be twisted as it passed from mouth to mouth, tainting her father's reputation to a point of no return. Just like it had with her.

The least she could do was go, for her father's sake. Even if she went, it didn't guarantee that she would marry the Prince, after all, she was only going to see him.

"I'll meet the Prince," Haifa declared. "We'll accept the King's invitation. But they will eventually find out about my scar and I know it will only become a disadvantage, so I want to tell them first,"

Abdul Hameed nodded.

"The scar," Her father added, after a long silence. "You are not the only one who is suffering because of one,"

And that was when Haifa remembered the words of the mouthy girl from the fabric shop, about a Prince with a hideous scar.

Glossary:

Habibi - My love (show affection towards a male)

Alhamdulillah - Thank God

Ustad - Teacher

SubhanAllah - Exaltance to God

BarakAllahu feek - God bless you

Azeezati - Honey/Sweety