by Marian Tee
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 sa
t 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 39th 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.
Seven years ago
Two years had passed since Hadwin’s death. Pain still lingered, but it was more a dull, bittersweet ache than a festering wound. The memories didn’t hurt as much, and sometimes, there were moments – secret, private moments – when Vanna could still feel his arms around her. Strong and gentle, intangible but powerful…it was these moments that gave her the strength to wake up each day, smile for her children, and do what she must.
Documents clutched in her hand, she left her family’s private wing in the palace and asked one of the guards of Kyria’s whereabouts. Where that girl was, he should always be, and when she made it to the palace’s library, she indeed found the two.
As this part of the palace was restricted to members of the Al-Atassi family and their most special guests, few people were aware that the royal library had been one of the inspirations for the Beast’s library in the animated classic. Towering shelves that reached all the way to the hundred-foo
t ceiling covered every wall, and above was a domed glass ceiling to reveal the azure skies of Ramil.
There was also the famous wheeled ladder from the film, only the one in Ramil’s palace was made entirely of gold rather than plain wood, and there were three of them, with the shelves divided into levels of more manageable heights. And also like the film, this particular ladder bore the weight of a lovely – albeit younger – bookish brunette. She was holding on to the ladder with one hand as she perused a stack of books, and thirty feet below her was a man as grouchy and princely as the film’s beast.
“Lueta.” Damn it. “If you don’t come down this instant, you’ll end up giving me a heart attack.”
“Stop shouting,” Kyria pleaded. “You know how you make me nervous when you shout so---”
“Aira.” Fuck. “Don’t say you’re nervous when you’re up there because now I’m nervous as hell, too.”
It took almost a minute, but the thirteen-year-old finally made it back to the ground, and as soon as she stepped off the ladder, her slim body disappeared into a crushing embrace.
“From now on,” Malik muttered, “you’re forbidden from climbing that thing.”
“But Malik---”
The young sheikh pulled away, cursing under his breath, but the sound still echoed in the library. “You could’ve fallen to your death,” he gritted out.
“Please?”
She watched Kyria peer up at her younger son with dark eyes full of pleading, and Vanna mentally shook her head.
Malik’s jaw clenched.
That look was---
“Fine then,” Malik said finally. “Let’s compromise.”
That look was powerful, her younger son was a softie, and she almost let slip an inelegant snort.
“No climbing ladders when I’m not around. Do you understand?”
“What about if I have a guard---”
A look of utter affront crossed the young sheikh’s face. “And have some man look up your robe while you’re at it?”
“Malik!” Kyria appeared dismayed. “I’m sure they wouldn’t---”
