peepo | the morning sun and the night sky.

[ alhaitham always knows what to say. so fluent in the language that is kaveh, he reads him like an open book, as though the words are memorized. he speaks, and kaveh flinches, and the emotion shows. it is salt on the wound, and it burns kaveh into silence.

what is it that he wants for elham? freedom. safety. a home to return to, and the promise that she won't live her every moment in fear. what is it that he wants for himself? that's... ]

What is it that you want from me? [ he does not answer. the answer belongs to himself, and there's no need to voice it. so instead, of course, he returns a question with another. ] I will meet Elham, we will talk, we will return to our respective duties. And then, what? What will the next thing you will surprise me with be?

[ kaveh has no answer. a question for a question is no answer at all. alhaitham would know. it is the first thing he learned on his grandmother's lap, fingers running itself over the worn leather of his parents' journals. while other children were learning letters and playing with blocks, he learned the lesson that built the foundation of his survival: never stop thinking, my alhaitham. ask until the world has run out of answers to give, and then, ask again. the red rose of the eastern rise has always acted on behalf of others. this is known. there is a reason why the epitaphs for the prince of the lokapalans has been numerous in nature. there's a reason why they never refer to him as kaveh.

what is it that you want from me? kaveh asks, and alhaitham knows - that no answer to this question will suffice. no truth will satisfying. another question pose to a world where such questions hold little meaning. there is only reality; there is only time. ]

Am I a rtawahist seer, to know such futures? Shall I invite a palm-reader to keep you company tomorrow so that you feel more secure on your divan? Whatever happens after will be as much of a surprise to you as it will be to me.

Kaveh, if there is anything you must do, you must do so for Elham. See to it that she is well. Is that not your sole duty? You do not need my input or permission to perform it.

[ color him surprised, that the crown prince of vissudha does not manipulate time as he sees fit. color him surprised, that alhaitham is no puppetmaster, and that he has yet to tie all of his strings in each of kaveh's limbs. he could try, that is for certain. he could try, and kaveh would rip them off, and that would be routine.

but alhaitham knows how to control kaveh even without strings. he knows what to say, what to provide him, how to keep him in a cage fit for a bird that has always only known of spreading out his wings and taking flight. many would find no room to complain: alhaitham's room is wide, and kaveh is given space to walk. he is not chained, and the red of his wrists and ankles have long healed. he is given no purpose, and some would argue, no purpose is far better than an ill-intentioned one.

alhaitham speaks, and kaveh stares. as the engines of his mind continue to turn and move, he asks: ]

What am I to you? A slave, or a prince?

[ ask, until the world has run out of answers to give. ]

[ kaveh asks.

he asks again. the world does not contain all the answers to questions posed. this, alhaitham knows. if the world did, then there would be no reason for mankind to know how to think. if answers were truths, then the world would only ever be what it seemed. the refraction of mirrors tell otherwise. unchained manacles, the red of blood, a bleeding pair of eyes looking into alhaitham's. a price spread across his own bed - a prince standing on the precipice. they make for a mirror polished with nothing but the dredges of distance and time. once, there had been two children and an ivory tower. once, the world had been whole.

alhaitham, who has never once lied to kaveh, merely says this: ]

Kaveh.

[ and then: ] You are Kaveh to me. That is who you are. How can you be anyone else?

[ the answer, as alhaitham knows, is not one that satisfies him. it raises the argument: does kaveh want the truth, or does kaveh want answers that are forged to his liking?

he would argue the former, of course. he would argue, too, that the truth is something he is not scared of, not something he turns a blind eye to. but answers come in many shapes and forms. after all, kaveh doesn't believe for a moment that alhaitham has never once lied to him.

isn't he lying right now? ]

Am I Kaveh, prince of Lokapala, or Kaveh, slave of Vissudha? What title do you wish for me to wield, so that I may know how to best please you?

[ kaveh asks again.

in the moment between waking and dreaming, in a room long-since abandoned by anyone who has ever loved it, alhaitham looks at kaveh, and thinks - his grandmother would have liked him, the boy with the red eyes, and the unflinching set of his spine. but she no longer likes anything; she is dead, and alhaitham is not. ]

So long as you are Kaveh, I will never be pleased by you. [ he says this with precision, each word chosen for their most exact meaning. so long as kaveh is kaveh, he will never please alhaitham - because alhaitham does not need to be pleased by kaveh.

that kaveh must never know is only incidental. after all, it is only alhaitham's truth. ]

Is your curiosity satisfied? [ bloodless, ] I have had a long several days holding together a kingdom that doesn't wish to be so. I would like to sleep.

[ alhaitham is no puppetmaster, but he knows the ins and outs of one.

he speaks, and kaveh's world does not crumble and fall, no. he does not care to please alhaitham in any way or form, could not be paid to do so. the answer is, however, as infuriating as alhaitham makes it sound, and kaveh thinks again, what is my purpose here?

he stares down at alhaitham, again, as he has been doing. this time, he does not enjoy the act of doing it, because it does not feel like it. alhaitham, crown prince, still has the upper hand. kaveh, slave, does not.

there are no words he offers in exchange as he turns on his heels and leave. the answer he eventually finds for himself is thus: he will always be prince, even without a crown, even without a kingdom, even without people. he will meet elham come sundown the next day, and will be proper as one. vissudha would never be able to hold kaveh down as a slave.

he sits down on his divan, the same way as the first night: legs up, arms around them, head on knees. alhaitham is back, and kaveh's fire is bright and burning once more. he refuses to let his guards down again. ]

[ alhaitham sleeps. he does not wake. the morning passes; breaksfast is brought on heaping platters, flatbread clotted with sarsheer and fragrant dusk bird eggs boiled and seasoned with herbs. lunch is a whole leg of lamb, tender meat carved apart by fork alone, basted in butter and arranged in on a bed of roasted miniature vissudha potatoes from the south. by dinner, the exasperated and somewhat terrified household staff peer in before serving, their eyes flitting from the sole awake occupant in the room and the still-laying lump on the bed. dinner is fish head curry from the rivers of the vissudha itself, paired with fresh limes and coconut milk imported from the ashavan realm's immense trade-network. the coconut shells have been kept in case their lord would like to observe them. their flesh has been turned into dessert: fragrant coconut jelly topped with roasted sesame. they say this with the utmost deference, doing their best not to look in kaveh's direction - it had been, after all, a lokapalan delicacy.

the lump on the bed does not respond. the slaves bring in the food, looking worse for wear. the dinner rug is spread. the food is left, and plated, and then left alone.

alhaitham continues to sleep.

it is half-way through dinner that the young woman with her swaying skirts return. she bows at the lump on the bed, and then, without a word, passes kaveh a note. written in beautiful cursive, the note reads thus: 10 strikes of the clock, western laundry. the path will be clear. 11 strikes of the clock; you must return.

the meeting with elham is set. ]

[ the day goes by quietly. alhaitham does not wake, kaveh does not bother to rouse him. it is peaceful, and kaveh learns to enjoy the silence again.

breakfast and lunch are enjoyed with the company of his own thoughts, several different what if scenarios running in his mind for the eventual meeting. it is anxiety taken form, and when has kaveh last been so anxious? years and years back, at the hill that the palace of alcazarzaray had been built on, out of sheer dreams and strong-will and ambition. this, he cannot will into something more optimistic.

dinner doesn't go as smoothly. he eats most of what is offered, again, out of sheer stubbornness, but throws it all up once he makes it to the bathroom, cleans it up with whatever water is leftover from earlier baths. kaveh cares little whether it is a meal presented with respect for his homeland or not; had alhaitham been awake, he'd have vented out his anger on him. it is a bitter memory of home, a reminder that this is a cell without visible bars.

he exerts himself for other people's sake at his own expense, again.

as the appointed time approaches, it is the first time in a week that kaveh leaves alhaitham's room. the guards do not stop him, and he is not blindfolded. his mind memorizes every arch, every stonewall, every pathway, every marble slightly out of place. vissudhan architecture, he finds, isn't much to his liking.

the meeting is then held.

elham has tears in her eyes at the sight of her prince; he is safe, fed, unharmed, unchained. she curtsies, and kaveh notes, then, that it is as spotless as it had been once. she calls him my prince, and through the melancholy of his smile, kaveh embraces her himself. he has measured many words to say to her, and decided, eventually, on i'm glad to see you.

(no i'm happy to see you safe, because what is safety at the heart of the enemy's kingdom?)

he reassures her with pretty lies and comforting words. prince alhaitham of vissudha has removed his chains the first day, has not touched him in any way. he is given his own divan, he is fed thrice a day, he takes his own bathes. he watches the confusion rise to elham's eyes, and when it is replaced with relief, kaveh thinks, he has had it far too good. ]

I wonder why Prince Alhaitham is so nice to you. [ elham voices once, absentmindedly, and excuses herself afterwards.

amidst the flames of his rage, kaveh has never thought of alhaitham as nice, but knows, despite all, that it is privilege speaking. kaveh is prince. that he is fed three meals, that he has his own sleeping bed, that he takes his own bathes — all of that, he has seen between the walls of alcazarzaray.

if elham were to take his place, would she be treated the same way? would she be unchained, unbound, fed, bathed, untouched? has kaveh been spoiled, taken what he is given for granted? has his stubbornness and pride blindsided him to the truth of the matter? would it be fine, then, to let his guards down? would alhaitham be waiting for it? would he come to regret his decision?

kaveh dismisses her a quarter before eleven, with spare time to return to the slave quarters. he makes, here, an empty promise: that they will return home, that they will step on lokapalan lands again, that this is not over, not yet, not if he has a say on it. they both know kaveh, prince of lokapala, is an idealistic man, with too many hopes and much too optimistim. she smiles all the same, and says she trusts her prince until the end.

the walk back is measured and silent. the blood-red of his eyes do not, for once, search every crevice of vissudhan architecture to map out and memorize his location. the doors to alhaitham's room open and close behind him, and against his better judgment, kaveh's eyes search for alhaitham. ]

[ there is a saying in vissudha that both young and old know. his grandmother once said this as she sat him in his lap, and taught him how to work a needle inch by inch across cloth: a person who does not remember where he came from will never reach his destination. alhaitham remembers. there had been a grew spiral of a tower. the ali qapu is famous for them. the horns of heaven, or so they called them, to mimic that of the headdress that the goddess of flowers once wore to celebrate the king of the desert. the symbolism of the tower has long since been banned from the vernacular. azar would never allow worship of anything that insinuated a higher power than himself. but the spires remained, and they once stood tall enough that a young child could mistake them for having held up the sky. there had been two children back then, and a trellis long enough and strong enough that a child could climb with assistance.

his mother had laughed, then, when a child's head poked itself over the ornate ledge. she had not been laughing at him, or them, or any such person in the room that they could see. but she had laughed, and alhaitham's heart had swelled for it. so went that day long past, two children huddled beneath the eaves. only alhaitham remembers; now, there may be one more.

at eleven, alhaitham wakes. a moment passes where he can only hear the sound of his own heartbeat. for a moment, he wonders if kaveh finally attempted escape. it is the less ideal outcome, but it is one that alhaitham has a contingency for. amidst the guards belonging to azar are guards that are loyal to him for one reason or another. they have their orders. kaveh will be secure, though unscathed is a different matter. azar's guards have orders as well. mitigation, however, is not impossible. alhaitham has not believed in the impossible for some time. but it isn't until he feels wakedness fully come upon him that he hears the creak of the door once more. there is no silver bell announcing a servant's presence. alhaitham closes his eyes, briefly, and then opens them once more.

kaveh pads in on silent feet. his eyes seek alhaitham's. of course, alhaitham looks. kaveh is red, a crimson gash, still-bleeding, pressed into the black of vissudha's halls. the imperious tilt of his head is uncompromising. alhaitham looks at him, and thinks - his conversation with elham must have gone well.

alhaitham thinks - good. ]

I assume that you were capable of following basic instructions, and sent her back on time?

[ words follow form. form follow sound. sound follows intention. his name forms in alhaitham's mouth; his teeth molds around it. it is light, it is music, and it is stone: ]

Kaveh.

[ the world falls back in place. he is back in alhaitham's room, alhaitham is awake, speaking, annoying. kaveh rejects this routine, rejects the idea of what is common, normal, because this is not it. the room is foreign to him. his divan is not his. the sketchpad, filled with drawings and notes, is not his. this life is not his.

kaveh does not want to remember. ]

I would trust your judgment of me and know that answer from my body language alone. Were you not so familiar with how I behave?

[ he finds, here, that he does not enjoy the way his name sounds in alhaitham's mouth. it feels wrong. it feels insulting.

i wonder why prince alhaitham is so nice to you. is he?

silence is telling, as it is deafening. thoughts could be crushing, could kill with the weight of their burden. kaveh bites back, bites the insides of his cheek, bites down on his lip. and then, quiet as a whisper: ]

... Thanks for letting me see Elham.

[ as quiet as a whisper. alhaitham listens. the very thought of it is ludicrous, that the prince of the lokapalans would thank the prince of the vissudhas for anything, let alone a bit of basic human decency. alhaitham cannot be mistaken for being kind. look beneath the surface, and you will not find therein an undiscovered well of kindness and compassion. alhaitham acts as he will, and allows others to label his actions as kind because he doesn't not care enough to correct them otherwise. kaveh thanks him, and alhaitham thinks - kaveh's words are better used elsewhere.

alhaitham gets up. he looks at kaveh. the set of his eyes is hard; the past few days have been hard. but at the very minimum, he does not wear the kind of gauntness that suggest lack of meals, and he does not seem unspirited. it is a beginning; it will have to be. ]

Hm.

[ alhaitham slides off the bed. the non-committal noise carries him until he is standing before kaveh. drawn to their full respective heights, they are eye-to-eye. alhaitham looks at him. ]

And was she reassured?

[ there's an argument to be had whether basic human decency could be applied to someone who has seen fit to enslave innocent people. basic human decency would be to free them. basic human decency would be not to have ransacked a kingdom from its back. basic human decency would be not to have the blood of the innocent on his hands.

allowing his personal slave to see and meet with one of his people by themselves had been, indeed, something worthy of being grateful for. the words had tasted weird on kaveh's tongue, bitter. it forces him to recall he is, for the first time in the past week, dinner-less.

the consequences of his bleeding heart. it's unsurprising. ]

As much as she could have been. You would have disagreed with what I told her. [ he exhales through his nose, and finds the sudden proximity to be uncomfortable. this, too, is the first time they've actually stood in front of each other. kaveh does not look away. ] But I just need her not to give up.

[ alhaitham, too, needs her not to give up.

the thing about plans involving people is that people are driven by emotion. emotions require upkeep. they, at the very minimum, require hope. hope needs to be fed the same way the body does. meals at dawn, noon and dusk. gentle words to coax it, and anger to stoke it. despair and the cold silence of your own thoughts douse it. they say that alhaitham is a man made from machinery and wire, a man in capable of feeling - but he understands emotions better than most. he is, after all, merely a man. a man who bruises when hurt. a man who bleeds when cut. a man who burns when put to the torch. alhaitham knows hope better than any other; he knows, after all, kaveh.

and kaveh knows elham. kaveh knows his people. she will not give up, not after he has done what he could; after she has seen what he is. ]

Good. [ he says, and means it. at this proximity, it's impossible not to scent him - an omega of padisarahs and gentle, fragrant flowers. the ones in his vase don't compare. alhaitham turns, and heads for the door. a single silver bell, and a servant comes. he gives orders - the servant goes.

alhaitham closes the door, and then, looking back to kaveh: ] I am taking supper. You may join me, or you may do as you wish.

[ it takes alhaitham turning and moving for kaveh to realize he had been holding a breath, which he exhales soon after as stealthily as he can. it grounds him back down to the reality of his situation, and for once, it feels uncomfortable to be in his own body. he wants to sleep, suddenly exhausted, and hide away in the comfort of his dreams.

but not yet, no. reality brings him back again, as it does. ever its servant. ]

Huh? Oh. [ supper. right. it would be foolish of him to think that alhaitham knows he's still hungry. he had, after all, slept through the entire day. i wonder why prince alhaitham is so nice to you. he isn't. ] ... Sure. Someone has to make sure all of the food is eaten.

[ a quirk of a brow as alhaitham turns away from his door. kaveh stands there. it's unsurprising that he has acquiesced to join - after all, his heart bleeds for the slaves of this palace. it may be worthwhile to increase the amount of food being brought in. kaveh may decide to keep some overnight; things that he can snack on as needs arise.

alhaitham shakes his head. ]

Is my appetite now another target of your complaining? Before you were here, the meals were of a standard size; I finished them without issues.

Don't forget you are the one who brought me here out of your own volition. I don't want to hear your complaints about it.

[ it's a conflicting statement in his mind, to be grateful for the food or not. he's always loathe to give the slaves more work, loathe to sit down and force himself to eat, lest people suffer because of him. at times, he thinks, this is a punishment tailored for him. would it be too unreasonable to think so?

kaveh finally catches himself, uncomfortable between the four walls he thought he was getting to know, and moves towards his divan that is still not his. he will lie there later, and wonder, what is he to focus his mind on, now? ]

... What are you doing tomorrow? Sleeping all day again?

If I choose to, how will that affect your decision-making for the day? You have complained that you have nothing to do; nothing that I choose to do or not do will change that.

[ the servants return at a clip. a small, midnight meal is brought in: a pile of tahchin rises, arranged in the middle of chunks of curried white fish. a slave brings in a dinner mat and unfurls it across the floor. alhaitham allows the platters to be arranged and the meal to be set before he gestures for kaveh to join him on the mat. the slaves retreat through the open door; he takes a plate, and then, pausing, looks to kaveh. ]

You had dinner already, I trust. Do not make yourself ill.

[ the comment is salt on a wound, and it burns in the weight of his guilt. kaveh, back turned to anyone who could bother to see his face, grimaces at the reminder. for a moment, the divan looks tentatively comfortable, as though made of ninety percent cotton, and as soon as he were to lay on it, his body would shut.

stubborn, however, kaveh turns, and sits across alhaitham. the food this time, at the very least, doesn't seem like it would upset his pride. he fetches himself a plate, and serves himself with a sigh. ]

Must I spell it out to you? In what world would I be comfortable to be around in the same room as you? If you sleep, at the very least, I will have some peace of mind. If you're gone, even better. You can't possibly think I've grown to enjoy your company.

Could I? [ the thought seems to amuse him; the corners of alhaitham's eyes soften as he weighs his own plate with fragrant rice and the mild, riverside curry that the household has prepared. he sifts through his meal, and starts with a slice of fish.

there is an argument to be crafted here. it formulates with precision. alhaitham eats, and considers it. ] The premise of your question assumes that I spend my time wondering if you enjoy my company or not. Have you considered that your premise may be false, and I do not spend any significant amount of time thinking about you?

[ that mornings were not utilised to consider the state of kaveh's nightmares. that noon is not spent procuring appropriate sketchpads for a seasoned architect. that afternoons are not spent playing to elham's strengths. that nights are not spent measuring food consumed during the day. ]

[ insufferable, he thinks. how is a kingdom built on the foundation of a prince who does not seem likeable at all? do his own servants do? his own guards? does the regent, in spite of his gift?

the food, at the very least, is enjoyable this time around. his body welcomes it, and rids his mouth of the bitterness of gastric acid. how is a kingdom built on the foundation of an incorrigible prince, but supported by such good cooks? kaveh thinks, here, if nothing else, the ali qapu at least eats well. it's a small solace. ]

By all means, do not mistake my words. I would much rather stay clear of your thoughts and mind, lest I'm brought to unwanted attention. [ this, whatever this lack of purpose is, at least doesn't add to his trauma. ] I will be sure to note that Vissudha is a lacking kingdom, however, if their prince has such room for leisure. Do tell, how are you ruining Avidya like you did Lokapala? Biding your time, I assume?

[ alhaitham does not need to ruin the avidya, just like how alhaitham does not need to ruin the vissudha. they are under siege and towards ruin, one from the outside and one from within. azar has ensured it. destruction does not need alhaitham's input - thankfully. if nothing else, alhaitham can trust azar to be an incorrigible stain no matter the circumstances. it is the only thing of his that alhaitham trusts.

instead, he allows a quirk of his eyebrows in kaveh's direction. ]

I alone cannot ruin Avidya, just as you alone could not have saved Lokapala. [ alhaitham says, bloodless. he continues, in that self-same tone: ] In any case, Avidya has bid for treaty and not war. They are aware of the exposure of their borders now that Lokapala no longer sits on their other side. I signed with their Lord Ameer last night. Or did you not hear the celebration from the halls?

[ so that's what it was, kaveh thinks, and feels the way his blood goes cold. it makes much sense that avidya would not raise their weapons, not after what has befallen lokapala. he tries to find comfort in the idea that no more blood has been spilled, but finds room for worry nonetheless. the bleeding of his heart, the weight of his guilt. it is, ultimately, overthinking, an overexaggeration on his part. if he hadn't told the guards to leave their post, they could've put up a fight. had they resisted the invasion, many of them would still be home. avidya would still live its peaceful life.

his stomach churns. eating is not a good idea. ]

... What is next for Vissudha, then? What shall you conquer next?

[ that kaveh is insistent that alhaitham is in charge of every whim and fate beneath the roof of the ali qapu is both amusing and useful. it keeps his attention directed towards alhaitham, rather than the slow spiral towards a grimmer understanding. alhaitham has never been interested in power. it was enough that he had power over himself; it was enough that he himself knew such a thing. however, it is not enough for azar - and azar, who is still counting on the unchanging bedrock of alhaitham's passivity, cannot be allowed to continue. this is simple enough for even children to understand.

kaveh is no child. the information he sources here has very little use. but an architect gathers materials so that they can build. alhaitham has never been able to predict what the alacrity of kaveh's mind is able to construct. he continues to eat. ]

Nowhere. [ he says, and it is the truth. alhaitham is not the one doing the conquering. and with the same tone and cadence: ] Akram and Kurash have been assigned to the Stablemaster. You will meet with them next.

[ ultimately, kaveh does not know azar. what's more, he doesn't even know how to put a face to a name, and in all of the fire of his rage and the burning of his hurt, alhaitham is the one who takes the high of both. it's easier like this, to have someone to blame, whether he's right or not. he's already without a purpose, and at least with hate to chain him down, kaveh is far less likely to lose himself each passing second.

but he does not know alhaitham. he is, time and time again, a constant he does not understand. first, elham. now, akram and kurash. and then, the same question, as though a broken record: ]

Why?

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what happened to not writing fanfic, man.

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