Part I
Women by John Lennon
Somebody by Depeche Mode
She’s Always a Woman by Billy Joel
Death and love are the two wings that bear the good man to heaven.
~ Michelangelo
THIRTEEN YEARS AGO
“ Mother .” Malik swiftly crossed the vast hall and made his way to Vanna Al-Atassi. She was known as the youngest and fiercest of the old king’s sisters, but now she looked like she was about to crumple. He knelt down in front of her and took her cold hands in his. “I came as soon as I heard—-” Self-contempt surged inside of him out of nowhere, and he broke off.
He should have been beside her the moment she found out about the plane crash and the sudden loss of the Markides. With his father and older brother away at war, he should have been by Vanna’s side every moment. But instead he was out at another party, whose host he couldn’t even remember, and fucking a girl whose face his memory shunned as well.
“Maehdina, Mama.” He uttered his apology in a raw voice, wishing he could say more – promise more – but knowing he could not.
Vanna shook her head. “Oh, Malik.” Grief did not stop one from being a mother, and right now her maternal instincts were telling her that this son of hers was blaming himself for things that no one could control. “There is nothing for you to apologize for, my son.” She gently pulled her hands away and patted the space next to her on the sofa. “Sit by me, Malik.”
He did her bidding without question, and she ran her fingers through his hair. Just seventeen , she thought, and already he was thinking of things that no young boy should be thinking of yet. She wished she could spare him of it, but she could not. It was the price one had to pay for being born to a royal family – the price that she herself had to pay, and so it was for him and the children he may sire in the future.
“As you know, the Markides are now...gone.” It was the only word Vanna could bear to use, as even now her mind still shied away from the fact that she would never see her dear friends smile again, never hear them talk to her again. Loyal friends to the royal family were a precious few, and the Markides had been one of those few.
And now they were gone, leaving behind a precious seven-year-old girl orphaned.
She saw Malik’s face pale and knew that the same thought had just occurred to him.
“Kyria,” he whispered.
She swallowed hard. “She’s safe, but she’s alone, and I’ve decided...to be her legal guardian.” She gazed at him searchingly. “Do you understand what this will mean?”
Malik didn’t answer.
“She will be part of our family. My daughter – and your little sister.” And now, it was her turn to take her son’s hands into hers. “May I trust you to help me look after her?”
His dark eyes became unreadable, and the sight made Vanna want to laugh and cry a little. Silly her, to think that she could pull the wool over his eyes. One look at his now expressionless face, and Vanna knew that Malik very much understood the double meaning of her words. She did wish him to be a good big brother to Kyria. That was true. But Vanna was also hoping that this would serve as his temporary purpose in life—-
A temporary purpose that perhaps could finally make Malik turn away from his reckless lifestyle of drinking and partying, consorting with people from the most dubious of backgrounds and the worst intentions towards the royal family—-
I know you’re searching for your purpose in life, but can’t you do so without tarnishing the kingdom’s name?
Malik withdrew his hands from her, and Vanna knew right away she had made a mistake—-
She had let her weakness overcome her, and now she had hurt her son.
“Malik—-”
The knock sounded on the door, cutting her off, and when she allowed them entry, the sight of the Markides’ orphaned daughter had both Vanna and Malik immediately putting aside their family concerns. That could always wait. Right now, someone needed them more – and an Al-Atassi never turned his back on those in need.
****
I T WAS THE DAY OF THE Markides’ funeral, and the atmosphere inside the chapel was somber, with just a slight tinge of shock. Many of those who had come to pay their respects were still struggling with their disbelief, and understandably so. Theon and Laura Markides had been two lovely people, young and vibrantly alive – and just like that, they were gone. Life was fragile, but it was a truth most people preferred to close their eyes to. Life was fragile, and deaths like this made the fact painfully and terrifyingly inescapable.
Malik’s gaze went to the little girl seated between his parents. The few times he had been asked to babysit her, she had been shy but sweet, delightfully affectionate once a person gained her trust. He remembered how her face used to light up every time she saw him because she knew he would have something sweet for her. A piece of cake, candy, a chocolate bar – he had accidentally discovered her sweet tooth when he found Kyria with her hand in the cookie jar, literally, when she was supposed to be eating her greens. That had been their little secret, and from then on Malik had become her most favorite person. In fact, it had become a running joke between the two families, Malik possibly usurping Theon’s position in the little girl’s heart—-
Careful with my girl’s heart, boy, Theon had even jokingly threatened him once. I’ll kill you if you break it.
Or at least Malik had hoped it was a joke. And while he would never hurt Kyria, how could he be sure that he wouldn’t do so unknowingly? He had never had a little sister, and neither had his cousins. He had no past experience to draw from—-
But that was what made life fragile as well.
Things you held on to, people you thought you could have forever in your life—-
All of it – all of them – could disappear in a flash, and life didn’t give a damn what would happen to those left behind. Even if it was just a little girl left alone – life didn’t give a damn about that either.
As the pallbearers came to carry the coffins out of the chapel, Malik found himself walking towards Kyria. Her big dark eyes turned to him, and he crouched down.
“Marhava, Malik .” Hello, Malik. Her voice was small but steady, too serious for someone her age.
Vanna had told him that she had yet to see Kyria shed a single tear, and for one moment he could only stare at her, thinking that she was too damn young – too damn small and frail – to have to hold such grief in her heart.
“ Marhava , Kyria.” And without thinking of what he was doing, he picked her up, and his chest squeezed as he felt the little girl lean her head trustingly against him.
She remained in his arms throughout the procession, and as her parents’ coffins were slowly lowered to the ground, he said quietly, “You can cry, you know.”
“I know.” Her voice was still toneless, her dark gaze not moving from the caskets that gradually disappeared from their sight.
Vanna approached them, flowers in hand, and he took it from her with a nod.
Kyria stared at the flowers. “For Mama and Papa?”
Silence, and just when he thought he should offer to throw them on her behalf, he heard her whisper, “I’m scared.”
His chest squeezed again. Of course you are. He looked straight into Kyria’s eyes. “Don’t be. I’ll always be here for you.”
Her lips started to tremble. “Promise?”
“Promise.” His voice was fierce.
He let her down, but her small hand remained in his as they walked together to her parents’ graves. Malik handed her the flowers, and she clutched them hard.
“I love you, Papa, Mama.”
The flowers fell.
And so did the tears.
He knelt down, and Kyria threw her arms around him. Her tears wetted the side of his neck, trailing down to soak his blazer, and Malik’s own eyes became wet as he realized what this meant, realized why this little girl hadn’t let herself cry-—
He stroked her back, and she cried harder.
She was afraid that if she cried...she had no one to wipe her tears away and tell her—-
“Things will be alright,” Malik whispered. “I promise.”
Eleven years ago
Dinner in Hadwin’s household was always a noisy affair, uncommonly so, considering they were members of the royal family of Ramil. This, however, mattered little to him. He liked seeing his older son Altair loosen up and talk about video games, even liked the way his wife was now nagging him about taking a vacation with her.
Before marrying the king’s sister and becoming a prince overnight, Hadwin had lived the life of a humble soldier. His joys had been simple, his happiness drawn from the little things such as seeing the sun set, having a delicious meal once in a while, and knowing that he had done at least one good thing for the day. Serendipity could only be to blame for a humble soldier to be assigned as bodyguard to a foreign princess visiting his small island town in Greece, and the rest was history.
Or more specifically, history went the way his willful wife wanted to write it. For her, he had left Greece and moved to the desert. He loved her, and so what she needed, he would give it to her. It was that simple, but most people seemed to find this complex. Even though they had now been married for over two decades, people still asked Hadwin if he cared that neither his sons bore his name, like they truly believed the foundation of a marriage relied on the letters that appeared on his children’s birth certificates.
He was and would always be a simple man. That his boys had to bear the name of Al-Atassi did not make him any less of a father, or them any less of a son. What mattered was his ability to care for them and put their interests above his—-
And he would always give them that.
No matter what people would say, his sons’ happiness would always be his priority.
Hadwin’s gaze rested on the little girl seated at the other end of the table, right next to his younger son.
Her eyes were shining as she chatted with Malik, and her words flowed out in a soft, excited rush. She was usually shy, but it always seemed to disappear when she was talking to his younger boy. Hadwin glanced at Vanna, and when his beautiful wife gave him a tremulous smile, he knew that they were thinking – and worrying – of the same thing.
“Do you think it’s possible?” she asked under her breath.
“If it does come true, will you be against it?”
His wife didn’t answer right away, but he was not worried. It was her upbringing that only made her seem occasionally heartless, but in the end, he knew she would do the right thing. The woman he knew and loved wouldn’t be able to help it.
“I hate it when you’re looking at me like that,” she muttered.
Hadwin smiled. “Like what?”
“Like you think you’re the good cop and I’m the bad cop.”
“It usually plays out that way,” he pointed out.
“Because you don’t know how hard it is, living your entire life in a fishbowl, and everyone acting like they have the right to say something about you. I’m just worried—-”
A cough from Altair had the two parents looking up, and that was when they noticed Malik glaring at them.
“ She may not be fluent in Rami yet,” their younger son spoke between clenched teeth, “but I am, and I’ve heard every word you’ve spoken.”
Vanna smiled weakly. “Oops.” She heard her husband laugh, and she kicked him under the table. Wicked man. She was his wife. He was supposed to be on her side and protect her from her son’s wrath.
When bedtime came, everyone went up together, with Kyria wailing for Malik to put her down.
“I’m not a baby!”
But Malik only laughed. “Yes, you are. You’ll always be a baby.” And ignoring Kyria’s protests, he kept the nine-year-old girl in his arms until they reached her bedroom. By the time the rest of the family caught up, Malik was already tucking her in bed.
When Malik straightened, Altair moved forward and kissed her on the forehead. “Huhm jamil.” It translated to ‘dream beautifully,’ which was the Ramilian way of wishing one a good night’s sleep.
Kyria smiled up at him. “You too, Altair.”
Hadwin ruffled the little girl’s hair. “No more reading under the covers, you promise?”
Kyria looked reluctant.
“How about a bedtime story?” Vanna suggested. “I’ll read you a bedtime story, then you promise to sleep right after?”
A torn expression flitted over the little girl’s face. “Okay, but...can Malik read to me instead?”
Altair and Hadwin coughed to cover their laughter as Vanna’s head turned sharply towards her younger son with an accusing look. “ Alghashi!” You cheater!
Malik sputtered in a mixture of disbelief and indignation while the other men in the family could no longer control themselves, their shoulders rocking in silent laughter.
“Husband, tell him,” Vanna said mournfully in Rami. “It’s unfair of him to monopolize Kyria—-”
“I am not monopolizing her,” her younger son snapped.
“Can’t we at least have her while she’s still young? He’s going to have all of her in the future anyway.”
Malik threw his hands up in a fit of frustration. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Ha!” Vanna threw him a look of scorn. “Don’t you think I don’t know where this will end? We all know it. When she’s the rightful age, you’ll make her your eros—- ”
“What’s an eros ?” Kyria’s puzzled voice interrupted her tirade.
Altair choked, thinking it was the one word the little girl shouldn’t think of right now.
Hadwin’s face turned expressionless as he considered how the world would take it, if one day Kyria did become one for Malik.
Bride , Vanna thought, cringing as she realized what she had let slip.
And when she saw how Malik looked like he was seriously considering strangling her now, Vanna faked a yawn. “I think it’s time to go to bed. Oh, age is really catching up with me.” She sailed out of the room without even waiting for her husband.
“What’s an eros ?” Kyria insisted, sitting up.
“I, err, need to go as well.” Altair swiftly turned away and left the room.
Hadwin clasped his younger son’s shoulder. “You’re on your own, son.”
And then Malik was alone.
Kyria was still looking at him questioningly.
Damn them. Damn all of them. Damn them.
He drew a chair next to the bed and took his phone out from his pocket. “How about I read you some Stephen King ?”
She let out a squeal of excitement, her quest for new vocabulary instantly forgotten. There would be hell to pay later. Stephen King was forbidden for good reason. The last time he read her one of King’s stories, Kyria hadn’t been able to sleep alone for an entire month, and Hadwin’s punishment for Malik was to be home by eight every evening and keep his little sister company until she fell asleep.
King would mean a month’s curfew yet again, but it was better than answering what ‘eros’ meant - to Kyria and him.
Outside Kyria’s bedroom, Vanna and Hadwin looked at each other, listening in silence as their younger son began to tell the story of a clown and a little boy.
She smiled wryly at her husband. This is going to be trouble in a couple of years.
He smiled back at her. Wouldn’t have it any other way. He touched her cheek. I love this family. I love our life. I love you.
She closed her eyes, thinking that she would never forget that look for as long as she lived. And though she knew it was impossible, she found herself hoping that this life of theirs could last. Forever and ever—-
But it was not to be.
Nine years ago
The world had lost a real-life hero. It was a dramatic headline, but it was also painfully apt and inadequate at the same time, and Malik had to blink his eyes several times before his gaze cleared and he was able to read the rest of the speech the palace’s staff had prepared for him.
Tomorrow marked the fortieth day following Hadwin’s death, and he and the rest of his family would make their first appearance in public. He had taken it upon himself to deliver the speech on his family’s behalf, but more and more he was finding it an impossible task. Two paragraphs of it concisely recounted the events that led to his death, and this Malik could only bear to skim.
A successful kidnapping attempt—-
Hadwin Mitropoulos, proving his mettle as a soldier—-
Heroic efforts that saved his son’s life at the cost of his own—-
Injuries too severe, lasting only several hours—-
Final words to the family have been kept private—-
The paper crumpled in his fist. His rage knew no bounds, but it was as impotent as it was violent. There was no one he could rage against. All of his brother’s kidnappers were dead, all of them. But even so, the rage continued to fester inside of him, and he simply didn’t know what to do.
Darkness fell outside the windows, and Malik forced himself to leave his father’s study and join the rest of his family for dinner. It had been one of Hadwin’s rules, and his chest clenched, remembering how he used to think that his father’s rules had been too old-fashioned.
And yet now—-
When he reached the dining hall, he saw that it was the same for Vanna and Altair, both of them forcing themselves to have dinner because it was how Hadwin would have wanted it. Kyria came last, and Malik forced a smile. “Marhava.”
She smiled back at him, but it was unusually timid and uncertain. “Marhava.” But instead of claiming the chair next to Malik like she usually did, she went and sat next to Altair. It was enough to have the entire family pause—-
Vanna’s gaze was suspicious. What did you do?
Malik scowled. Was this woman truly his mother? Why was it that she always seemed to think the worst of him?
“Not that I’m complaining,” Altair said gently, “but aren’t you usually seated next to Malik?”
“I need to sit beside you,” Kyria said firmly.
The three of them exchanged looks, and seeing that everyone was as bemused as he was, Malik asked, “Why do you think that?”
The little girl suddenly looked uneasy. “Just because.”
He frowned. She was hiding something, but what could it possibly be? He started to speak again, but this time Altair forestalled him with a shake of his head.
“Let it be for now,” his older brother murmured.
Malik’s first instinct was to tell his brother he knew Kyria better than anyone did, and letting her maintain a lie was not the way to handle it. But then he saw the frightened way the little girl was looking at him—-
He gave Altair a curt nod, thinking that maybe this was Kyria’s way of cheering Altair up. He told himself to let it go and smiled at Kyria. “If that’s what you want, then that’s how it should be.”
Kyria nodded unsmilingly, and then she turned to Altair. “How are you feeling now, Altair?”
“I’m doing fine, poppet.” Altair ruffled her hair. “And you?”
“I’m doing fine, too.”
Malik asked Kyria about school. She answered without looking at him and then asked Altair about his work.
And so it went, and by the time dinner ended, Malik was seething. The straw that broke the camel’s back, however, was when coffee was being served, and he heard Kyria ask, “Altair, may I sleep in your room tonight?”
In the act of taking a sip of her wine, Vanna ended up spewing it out instead.
Malik’s incredulous gaze shot to Kyria. “What did you say?”
“I w-want to sleep in Altair’s room,” the eleven-year-old girl stammered.
His gaze, now furious, swung to his older brother’s. “What the hell did you do? Did you say anything—-”
Altair’s face hardened. “Careful, brother, or I might think you’re accusing me of something—-”
“I’m damn well accusing you,” Malik growled.
Vanna stood up, crying out, “Enough, both of you!”
But neither of her sons appeared to even hear her. Chairs overturned in a loud crash as the two young sheikhs shot to their feet, fury stamped on their identical features.
“ She’s a child ,” Malik bit out in Rami. “I’ve never once treated her otherwise, and for you to try poisoning her against me—-”
“I never said a single word, you fool,” Altair snapped. “But if she’s doing this on her own—-”
“I said, STOP IT!” Vanna burst into tears, and the sound made both brothers whiten in silence.
Kyria tore out of her seat and ran to the older woman. She threw her arms around Vanna and started crying. “I’m s-sorry, Mama, but Papa said I should do it.”
The silence grew worse.
Vanna slowly pulled away. “W-what do you mean Papa said you should do it?” she whispered. “Is he here?”
Kyria stopped crying long enough to give Vanna a reproachful look. “Mama, I’m not joking.”
Vanna laughed and cried at the chiding tone. She knew it was silly of her to hope that even the ghost of Hadwin would still be with them, but oh.
She missed him so badly.
Sitting down, she wiped her eyes and asked Kyria, “What do you mean then?”
“When Papa was at the hospital,” the girl whispered, “he told me that when he was gone, I should count for 39 days.”
The adults in the room frowned. Thirty-nine? Malik tried to find meaning in this number as either a Ramilian or Greek but couldn’t think of any. Why the hell had Hadwin chosen that particular number?
“On the 39 th day, he said there was a Ramilian superstition about evil spirits coming to the house of the grieving.”
Vanna blinked. “Is that so?” She had grown up hearing all sorts of Ramilian stories, but had never once heard of such a thing. And besides, Hadwin was Greek. Had her husband made all this up? And if he had, why?
Kyria nodded gravely. “He said that the spirit would try taking Altair first. I didn’t really believe it when he told me, but then he also said that the spirit would make Malik unreasonably angry so when it happened, I knew I had to do everything Papa said.”
The two sheikhs slowly sat down.
Vanna took a deep breath. “And what else was it that he asked you to do?”
“He said that I should keep talking to Altair and not to anyone else so that the spirit understands I’m not going to let go of Altair if it tries to take him away. That I should even sleep in Altair’s room and protect him from nightmares—-”
Malik and Altair looked at each other. Hadwin had pranked them from the grave—-
“I’ll know if I succeed when you start to cry, because it means the spirit’s gone.” Kyria gave Vanna a teary smile. “And you did.”
Malik was the first one to laugh. And soon, Altair was, too, and even as Vanna started crying again, she was laughing, too. Oh, my love. You knew, didn’t you? Hadwin was the one that kept them together, and when he was gone, they had started to fall apart.
Her eyes closed, and oh, she could have sworn that she felt her husband touching her cheek.
I knew, my love.
She wept harder.
And that’s why I got a little angel to look after all of you while I’m away.
Vanna took Kyria into her arms. I miss you, Hadwin. I miss you so much. And as Hadwin’s little angel hugged her back, it was almost as if she could feel her husband’s love through it.
“Let’s all sleep in your big brother’s room,” Vanna said when she pulled away.
Altair groaned.
Kyria’s eyes widened. “We can do that?”
“Of course we can.” Malik glanced at Altair, drawling, “Let’s all protect big brother from the evil spirit.” His voice was mocking, but his eyes were suspiciously wet.
And when Altair smiled at his younger brother—-
“ Airafi .” Fuck you. But his voice was just a little gruff.
Vanna took Kyria’s hand. “Let’s go up.”
They all slept in Altair’s room, with Vanna and Kyria sharing the bed while extra mattresses were laid out on the floor for her sons to sleep in. She watched her children sleep one by one, and when all was silent, her eyes closed, and in the haven of darkness she heard the faintest whisper—-
Huhm jamil.
She knew she could very well just be imagining her husband telling her good night, but she didn’t care.
I love this family. I love our life. I love you.
Tears fell down her face, but they tasted as salty as they were sweet.
Until we meet again, my love.
But for now, she still had these three to look after.