Once Upon a Spring Night

Tremblor

“So, are we just going to stack these bodies here?” A ragged young man asked his much older companion, who was preoccupied with dragging a dead body in a sack behind him.

“It might seem so.” He said with a coarse voice that croaked from the caelia he had consumed, hours before. “Pay no mind to those—if a sack of a hundred silvers is promised to us, then let us wait for señor for his word.”

In robes of dirt and sweat, the two men continued with their inhumane scheme of piling up corpses like a sack of grain on a farm. The place was in ample dread and isolation. It seems death himself would dwell joyfully among the growing weeds, belladonnas, and motionless green waters.

The stench was perfume from hell. None was safe from the odor except for those selfish souls who had no remorse for someone’s terrible end. No birds flying in the air, not even little creatures on the land. It was only the dead grass and wilted trees that occupied the haunting meadows. Rightfully so that the place lived up to its legend as the cursed land of Andalusia.

Here come the crickets, early in their performance. The sun bid farewell, letting the crescent moon crown the heavens of velvet with its silken beams. Percussions and flutes were resonating inside the whole castle as the celebration began. The festive robes and joyous laughs of the guests were a breath of fresh air to the once dull and undisturbed court.

Servants flocked to Princess Primarosa’s quarters—dolling her up with a white silk dress that had dainty gold chains to decorate it and also a crown of crystal flowers on her head. She wondered why there was such a need to be dressed so fancily. One servant then told her, as she was attentively combing her hair, that the queen wanted to see her and it was requested that she needed to be beautifully prepared for her presence.

She became nervous. Yasmeen told her about her mother being tenderly sweet, not quite sure if the same sentiments were for her since most of everybody in the Moor Kingdom saw her as a thorn in sight. That is what she thought.

“That is very thoughtful of the queen to see me.” She said, fumbling in her mind what good compliments to tell the sultana of the land. “I do not know if she will be pleased with me.”

“Not to worry about that thought, Your Highness.” Said the old lady servant, finishing her hair with a ribbon to secure the bun. “Queen Paravaneh is very gracious. She even talked to us—asking if we were happy inside her court. The whole family was a generous bunch, though Prince Azlan is quite stern, understandably, since he will now take over after his father.”

“Oh, don’t even get me started with Azlan.” She lightly growled.

Moments later, a little after the servants had prepared Primarosa, Queen Parvaneh entered the small room, and like those who had encountered the princess, she too was in awe of her beauty as she smiled and curtsied at her.

“Buenas noches, su señoría.” Primarosa greeted.

“Buenas noches.” The queen approvingly replied. She looked at the princess again with a jovial and twinkling eye. A serene and naïve mien was emanating from her, making the sultana conclude that the princess was no threat–proving Yasmeen’s judgment convincing. “My dear, how are you? Do tell me and be not afraid.”

Her gentle words touched the princess. There was a pause, however, wondering if she would tell the candid truth or a sweet lie just to hinder scathing her good spirit. But the wise queen mother was no fool as she could read past the princess’ façade the hints of forlorn.

Queen Parvaneh took a step closer to the princess and reached for her hand as she said, “No need for a worried heart, my dear. Are you feeling lonely here?”

She began to sob and tighten the clutch on the queen’s comforting hands. “Oh, Your Majesty, I do! I do! The only solitude I have was Princess Yasmeen visiting me. I truly feel abandoned whenever she left—she reminded me of my sisters. I do not mean to tinge on Azlan’s name, but he was a confusing person!” Tears flooded again in her eyes as she continued, “Sometimes he was fine and sometimes he became haughty—mocking me with words that cut through like knives.”

The queen wiped Primarosa’s tears and took her in her arms, letting all the overflowing emotions inside bear off. The queen’s eyes then roamed the whole of her room and spotted dozens of roses and even the dining set Azlan left from last night’s frolics. “Come, my child,” Ignoring what she just detected. “Let us go to the gardens and have a stretch of sight from this boring enclosure.”

The music from the castle went on as the two ladies walked along the gardens. Outside was more of a fete compared to the feast prepared by Tariq for the queen. At long last, serenity came upon Queen Parvaneh after many moons of traveling.

Nevertheless, Primarosa was on the opposite end. Cold feet hailed her, accompanied by sudden palpitations on her chest. Her hands then quivered, causing the sultana to guide her to the small tea house garden where they took a pause.

“My child, are you alright? Do you feel sick?” A rush of concern flowed through Queen Parvaneh, giving the Christian princess a tender pat on the head.

“I am alright, Your Majesty. I was just feeling a little chill—that is all.” She assured her, with convincing eyes that glittered like the river stream of Babylon.

Queen Parvaneh sighed, though not in relief, more in an anxious frame of mind, knowing all too well that something was certainly haunting Princess Primarosa’s mind. Despite the belief that her father had killed her husband during the last battle, the queen’s maternal instinct was very strong—never letting hatred nor dejection befall the docile young lady who was with her. “Come here, Princess.” She gestured for a closer seat beside her. “Be at ease and please do tell me the thing that bothers you.”

Primarosa hesitated at first. The swaying of the trees and follies steadied as the atmosphere had gone at a pace of concord. Trying to collect her thoughts and the right words to express was a bit of a struggle, yet, the sweet mood the queen gave to her made her feel unworried about what she might open up. “You are indeed kind, oh gracious queen. I was wondering why Prince Azlan took me away from my home. I repeatedly told him that I knew nothing of an upcoming war and still, he did not believe me. Like what I have said, he is very unpredictable.”

The queen grinned, fascinated with what was said. “Is that so?” Recalling the dining set and roses placed in the princess’ presumed isolation.

Her firstborn was very much a dutiful person, even when he was still in his tender years. Rarely showcasing affection aside from small hugs and kisses he gave after his training and lessons. Everyone knew him as the rigid prince of Al-Jawhira—not only wanting more but glory for their kingdom and dynasty. But as the woman who conceived him, she knew deep to the fibers of her bones that Azlan had so much love inside of him. The gentleman may not know how to showcase it.

“Well, Azlan was very well-behaved when I was with him. Perhaps a little jolly with his siblings. I became enticed by what you just said, dear princess.” She said, giving small laughs in between.

“I never meant to pry, Your Majesty. I could not get a hold of him.”

“I would like to offer my apologies to you on behalf of him treating you as a prisoner. You seemed sweet and very polite, my child. I may know for a fact that we are meant to be enemies, but I could not help to feel pity for such a lost soul.” The queen touched Primarosa’s cheeks and brushed away some hair that curtained her beauty. “You are blessed my dear with this beauty of yours, it did occur to me that maybe Azlan was—hmm, how to put this—enchanted perhaps?”

“Oh, dear queen, pray don’t tease.” A crimson hue flushed on her ivory face, remembering that moment in her grandmama’s garden where it was full of woos and bashful smiles—even the kiss that she thought was true. “He—He is not in a way enchanted with me.”

“I do not know, princess. I could not explain either about those roses and his dining place in your room.”

“Personal… dining?” The princess’ jaw dropped.

“Aywah—the rug and other things were his. I remember it so well because it was the rug gifted to him when he visited the eastern lands. Were his visits quite often?”

“He—” As if the odds were playing on them, Azlan appeared and joined in the scene, displaying a frowny look towards the Christian princess. An affectionate good eve salutation to his mother and proceed to ask why his prisoner was out and about, even accompanying her in their garden. “This is quite a rarity.” He peevishly added.

With her usual light-hearted self, the queen giggled at his reaction. “Oh hush, my boy. Primarosa is a guest, and guests should be given the best accommodation.” A wink followed as she looked back at Primarosa.

“You have guests inside the castle that need your best accommodation.” He mockingly reminded.

“No need to be strict on me, Azlan. I know what I am doing. And it is with the truth that I wholeheartedly welcome Princess Primarosa here in our kingdom. I recall that Yasmeen told me that she sings wonderfully and could tell tales from little words. That is a gift, and such a gift is worthy at my court—a songbird!”

Primarosa smiled, not knowing what to say about the sultana’s vaunting of her abilities. She could only express such gratitude through her innocent beam.

Not pleased with her plan, Azlan condemned the thought and told her mother, “She is the daughter of Joaquin! The man who humiliatingly defeated my father!”

“Shh… Quiet now, Azlan. You are far wiser than being a blabbering boy. You may think whatever you pleased about this lady, but I felt sincere that she meant no ill will to us.” Queen Parvaneh defended.

Furious—the prince protested even more at the queen’s viewpoint. It was an absurd blow to him and made it known that he never wished to be part of the foolery. “She is an enemy, ommi! How can you easily pass through that reality? Look at her, she is nothing but a yarn-spinner, flapdoodle, blood of the antagonists!”

“Azlan! Watch your tongue! Why have you become so tense and erratic lately?” The queen-mother bawled, disappointed with the insults he blurted.

Snapped and shattered fully, Princess Primarosa wobbled from his humiliation.

Ignoring his mother’s dismay towards his impulsive fits, he coolly again requested her to make an appearance at the celebration. His tone was more of a restrained command, though truthfully speaking, it was only an act to hide his shuffling thoughts and emotions. “Please, my queen, listen to the guests’ request for your presence. I swore I will take Primarosa inside after we talked if that is your wish.” He lied.

Queen Parvaneh felt defeated by his persuasion. She carried along with his act and bid farewell to them before heading back inside.

Once they were left alone, Azlan seized Primarosa by the hands, grasping it tightly, fearing that she might run away. Yet she never resisted at first. Tearful sobs from her caught his full attention–with a pair of tired and longing eyes staring at him. The prince even thought that she might have cursed his soul—pulling him along with those sorrows until life was deprived of him.

“A yarn-spinner, a flapdoodle? Am I that despicable to you? I thought we would become friends when you gifted me that storybook. I guess I was wrong—I have been fooled again!” She wailed—a cry in agony. “I—I never did you wrong! I have already told you that I have nothing to do with the said war presumed by hearsay and fictitious mouths. I am done with this!” Her finger was strongly pointing at his chest while she struggled gravely from his hold, which got even tighter as she fought back.

With a hard push… She, at last, was released from the grip and ran immediately wherever her feet would take her. A wide row of trees and bushes graced the vast garden. Torches were also present, burning ever brighter during that evening. Primarosa ran as fast as she could just to get away from him.

But Azlan was quick. His arm stretched when the distance between them got closer, and alas, he had her in his hold again.

She scuffled tearfully. The prey and her predator, fighting for the glory of life. Primarosa was giving all the best she could to get away, but he was too strong. Indeed, a force to be reckoned with.

“Please, Your Highness, I want to go home.” She pleaded, almost kneeling in front of him, all the while still struggling to be out of his clutch.

“Stop! Princess, stop! Come now… don’t you see we’re at the edge of the pool?” A change of tone when he realized the danger they were in.

He tried to lift her, but with no luck, both of them fell and slipped through into the deepest part of the pool.

It was easy for Azlan since he was very athletic, he made it to the surface like it was nothing. Looking back, he saw that there was no Primarosa in sight. Panic instantly raced through his veins and he noticed her form under the murky water.

Below the silent current of dark blue, was the princess trying to swim back. Her mind was screaming for help, feeling the weight of the dress and the water pressure, burying her until she reached the bottom. Terror rose through her soul as the air in her lungs was slowly giving up the will to go on. Her eyes cast down bit by bit, surrendering her mortality to the dark abyss below.

Dark and cold was the feeling she could lastly remember…

A light then was shining upon her—a halo began to glow on her head when a sudden sight projected a choir of saints singing to her the hymn of the martyrs. It was serene, melodious, and for the first time in a while, she felt tranquility. Though no sound echoed—a pantomime—she wholeheartedly sang along with the heavenly bodies, feeling the winds carrying her away to somewhere blissful.

The melody was circling all over her head, repeating on and on like a never-ending loop to which nothing could silence it. A familiar voice then came through, only to cease calling when the whole ethereal scene faded to black.

“Adios…” She hummed as everything turned into nothingness.

“Oh Azlan… What happened?” The queen, both in shock and worried, demanded an explanation.

“She—we fell into the pool and I was…” He never finished his sentence. Seeing that servants and two physicians were scurrying to revive her from her coma, the prince was beginning to sense that he was at fault. “We, somewhat, had a rough exchange and… I failed to tell her that we were on the line of danger…I…”. Feeling distraught by such a preventable incident, once he looked at her in such a helpless state: on the bed, lying pale, and dreaming... Possibly for many days. His conscience was at war. However, some kind of demon whispered to him never to take the whole blame, disregarding the hurricane of contemplation, since bowing down to his foe was never an option and should never be.

But at the back of his mind and deep in his heart, he pitied her and yearned to wake her up just to see him on his knees begging for her forgiveness.

Deep in his trail of thoughts, Azlan did not notice that Arham was trying to get his attention. As the younger prince tapped on his shoulder, he broke off, only to say nothing, but with a muddled look.

“Sorry to disturb you, brother. Uncle requested to see you at the council hall.” The second prince remarked.

“Oh, he is not at the celebration?” The queen asked.

“No, ommi. I am here to take you to the feast.” Arham added as he offered an arm to her.

“Bismillah… Come, my son.” She sighed, taking her son’s arm. But before they left, the queen eyed her eldest and said, “lay off with those uncertainties, Azlan. Let us hope and pray that the princess will be out of harm’s way.”

Azlan did not answer, as his gaze was plastered onto the concerning scene in front of him.

But out of the blue, not even once they had come up against it…

An earthquake struck the whole kingdom—even reaching the highs and lows of the peninsula. There was panic and more rumble that ended in minutes or more… One could always guess. Some devilish roars and growls were also heard along with the madness of the earth.

The tremor was strong, enough to cause cracks and debris to fall to the ground. Men and women ran to safe spaces where they cannot be hurt as the chaos continued to ponder on them. The ground cracked below their feet, alarming Arham to swiftly hold and protect his mother as they ran through the corridors. On the other hand, throwing away his pride and steadiness, Azlan did not second guess shielding the unconscious Primarosa with his body. When all was done and left with aftershocks, the prince instructed one of the servants to call on his men and escort the queen’s guests to safety. It was heeded.

“Your Highness, never worry now about the princess, we’ll take care of her.” The physician said.

“Thank you. Please let me know if Primarosa is awake.” He ordered as he ran his hand to her golden hair.

“I will, my prince.”

Prince Azlan dedicated the whole remaining hours of the night to consoling his subjects. Seeing through that no one was harmed by the phenomenon, he ordered Arham to take charge of disseminating his decree stating that all lords of the kingdom were required to assess if everything in his land was in good shape. He was restless as reports came in about the casualties of both goods, and sadly, a few of his folks.

As the rooster already began to call for dawn, Queen Parvaneh became concerned, noticing the tiredness on Azlan’s face. She demanded him to now rest while she will take over his duties.

“Never say a word, go now and sleep. I will be in charge for today.” She sternly told him.

Azlan did not argue and complied fully with his mother’s behest.

Drained, Azlan went straight to his chambers, not wanting to hear more of the goings on at the moment. But as he opened the door, his uncle Tariq and the magician, Iqbal, were there waiting for him.

“Uncle? Why are you here?” He wearily asked.

“Sorry, my prince, but I have come here to tell you something.” Tariq held his shoulders, visibly shaken and concerned. “Come, come… Let us take a seat. Oh, goodness. May the heavens be with us. We are here because Iqbal saw something on his crystal bowl when the water went still and made a ripple on its own.”

Azlan was confused, darting a look that was both in need of rest and a logical reason from his words.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Iqbal continued, “I see it. It was last night. I heard the whispers of an angel in a dream. I was bewildered, so I used my usual ritual of the crystal bowl. The water was clear at first, but then it made a ripple. I saw there an eagle and a sparrow, rivals since long before, had made a brood f*******n by all laws. With that sinful act, followed a tremor causing two trees on both sides to collapse.”

“What do you mean by that? What is with this dilly-dallying of magic at this early hour?” Azlan became irritated as he asked both his uncle and the magician.

“My dear boy, Iqbal saw the collapse of the kingdom! Our kingdom!” Tariq frantically emphasized. The grand vizier then clasped the prince’s hand and faithfully told him that he knew of his secret visit to the Christian princess. He confessed that one night, he saw him holding some roses going to Princess Primarosa’s room. Hence, why he started to suspect that there were already growing romantic feelings for his foe. Concluding more so when some servants had noticed the same thing. “Azlan, I knew and saw it all. It may be against our belief to eavesdrop and talk behind your back, but that hidden affection you have for the princess, speculatively speaking, has come to light through the mouths of our household.”

“Who were these people?” A certain serious note came to the Moor prince’s inquiry. His fist clenched as he tried to hold his temper. He knew that no smoke could hide in one’s palm for such a long time. He knew that there will be a day when, no matter how many masks he would wear, people would read through what was real in his core.

“That does not matter who began the notion, my dear boy. Listen, Iqbal is warning us. The earthquake was a foretelling of the punishment. Showing romance to our enemies is f*******n. The princess is some kind of enchantress that had hexed you!”

“Well, this is already a stretch…” Azlan, rising from his seat, felt frustrated and beguiled by his uncle’s stories. He never believed such childish spiel nor trusted Iqbal—in fact, many men from the royal court found him to be a sham. Those tales they had uttered were meant only in make-believe books and nothing more. Though, he now felt sheepish knowing that his uncle already knew of his unbecoming sentiments toward Primarosa. “We should all rest now. So, uncle, I would like to excuse myself and, please, leave now. We’ll talk in the afternoon.”

The colors of the aurora finally gloried the horizon when Tariq and Iqbal left the chambers, the two men expressed their exasperation as they failed to convince the prince. They then both discussed what to do next as they quietly walked the very dark shortcut leading to the main halls of the castle.

“The boy is stubborn! He is like Ismail but a lot more!” Tariq exclaimed, halting himself from throwing a fit.

“Calm down, my lord. Truth be told, the prince was exhausted and could not fathom the statement. I say a sip from a cup may perhaps change the course of his wits.” The magician guaranteed to the vizier, gazing at him with some kind of enrapture lined all over.

The royal uncle stood unmoved for a moment, wondering what the bemused magician meant. Not having any sense of it, Tariq suspired and gave Ibal his approval no matter what he was planning. “You have my blessing to whatever that is, magician. Make sure that what we planned long ago will not go to waste.”

“Trust me, my lord. It is better than what was mapped out.” Iqbal mischievously smiled.