Into the Waters

“He—” When Primarosa was about to say something, Azlan appeared as if the odds were playing on them. His face displayed a frowny look towards the Christian princess, showing her how displeased he was that she now was free roaming around the royal garden. He was mas, though he did admit at the back of his mind that the princess looked more radiant in that plain white dress. “She is more beautiful…What the hell? Erase that thought, Azlan!” He hissed. Afterwhich, he dragged his attention into acknowledging the regal presence of his mother. “Good evening, my queen. May I ask why the princess of Cipreon is here with you? This scene where enemies got along 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 from the host.” A wink followed as she looked back at Primarosa.

“You have guests inside the castle that needed more of your best accommodation, dear queen.” He mockingly reminded.

“No need to be strict on me, Azlan. I know what I am doing. In truth, I wholeheartedly welcome Princess Primarosa here in our kingdom. I recall that Yasmeen told me that the princess 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 both felt shy and happy about the sultana’s compliments of her abilities. She could only express such gratitude through her innocent beam.

Despite that warmhearted tone, Prince Azlan was not pleased with her plan and condemned that thought as he frankly told his 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,” Pointing his finger at Primarosa, “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 entirely shattered, Princess Primarosa wobbled from his humiliation.

Ignoring his mother’s dismay towards his impulsive fits, the prince coolly requested her to honor the guests at her celebration. His tone was now 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 swear I will take Primarosa inside after we have our conversation.” 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 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 the Christian princess might have cursed his soul—completely depriving him of his life.

“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 got fooled again!” She wailed. “I—I never did you wrong! I already told you that I knew nothing about the war presumed by hearsay and fictitious mouths. I am through with this!” She pounded a finger at his chest while struggling gravely from his hold that got tighter when she fought back more.

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 successfully escaped her predator in the fight for the glory of life–though she was not left unscathed with fear lingering in its wake.

“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 this pool?” Concern rushed through Azlan when he realized they were in danger.

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

Swimming in deep water was easy for Azlan since he was very athletic. He made it to the surface like it was nothing. As he looked back to see if Primarosa was there, he saw nothing. Panic instantly raced through his veins when he noticed that she did not resurface and was still under the murky water.

Below the silence of the dark current, Princess Primarosa tried 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 gone. 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 halo then glowed on her head when a sudden sight projected a choir of saints serenading her with the hymn of the martyrs. It was serene and melodic. For the first time in a while, she felt tranquility. Though no sound echoed—a pantomime—she sincerely sang along with the heavenly bodies, feeling the winds carrying her away to somewhere blissful.

The song went on and on and on like a never-ending loop to which nothing could silence it. A familiar voice suddenly 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. I was…” He never finished his sentence. Seeing that the servants and two physicians were scurrying to revive her from her coma, the prince began 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…”. Azlan was distraught by such a preventable accident once he looked at Primarosa 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.

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