Dune

This flash fiction piece was written as a story companion to the day 13 drawing prompt Dune from the 2020 Inktober prompt list. Click here to see the drawing.

The Shah had always preferred to take his leisure out among the dry air of the dunes.

Over the long journeys from the decadent palace to the second nearest oasis where they would set up the tents, many a servant could be heard to gripe and groan. Not a one could understand why a king of such wealth would rather spend his holidays sleeping rough in the desert than in his home palace, or one of the many other finely appointed mansions and apartments that belonged to his estate.

It was the contrast that attracted him, and that was something the servants wouldn’t understand. The Shah had spent his entire life laying upon velvet and silk, not doing much of anything. Now, as king, he preferred to spend what spare time he had out of doors, riding horse- and camelback, and trekking over the sand. There were a great many things to be discovered in one’s own mind the longer time you spent stretching your limbs under the vast, desert sky away from the cacophony of palace life.

Of course, just now, they happened to be embattled in a bitter power struggle with a neighboring kingdom, so this current trip wasn’t as much about leisure as it was about taking time to focus on military strategy outside of the pressures of court. The Shah also thought it would be best to meet with his generals away from the prying ears that tended to lurk in the palace. Last month, he’d taken meetings in his private rooms with no one else present, and their carefully planned sneak attack was still leaked to the enemy.

For this trip, he’d only brought his personal servant, Javid, and would send back those needed to set up camp once they’d finished their work. He also planned to send Javid out on various excursions during the strategic planning portion of each general’s stay to reduce the chance of leaks. The odds of his personal servant being the source of the leaks was, he hoped, slim, but if he didn’t want to lose any more ground in battle, he had to be as careful as possible.

As the sun set against the desert horizon, Shah Cyrus watched the team that built the camp retreat back the way they’d came, their camels trotting along at a nice clip given that the riders didn’t want to spend too much time in the dark. Entering the tents, he headed to the dressing area where he sat and removed his head cloth, mopping the sweat from his brow.

“Javid, remind me who will be first to meet with us tomorrow.”

He consulted some papers and replied, “General Ehsan is scheduled to arrive midmorning to discuss the northern region strategy.”

“Very good. We’d better get to sleep.”

He didn’t sleep much, of course. Once he could hear Javid’s breathing even out in the next tent, he rose from his cot and went to take in the night air. The stars above him were so crystal clear it felt as though he could touch them. He spent most of the night whispering prayers that the morning would bring him similar clarity.

-----

He rose with the sun, too restless to sleep, and spent the morning working through various things with Javid, including a large helping of goat’s milk and figs. By midmorning, he was anxious to see General Ehsan’s camel approaching over the dunes, and he didn’t have to wait long. The camel appeared on the horizon just as the sun was climbing higher in the sky. Cyrus walked slowly out across the sand to greet his visitor.

“Welcome, General Ehsan!” He called out warmly, and, as the general grew closer, he saw something that surprised him—the general was a woman.

It wasn’t too out of the ordinary for the Shah. After all, his mother was the reason his line came to power and the source of his own military brilliance. It was just that he’d had no idea there were any female generals serving at the moment.

“Good morning, your majesty,” Ehsan bowed her head to her chest and something about the gesture sent a shiver down the Shah’s spine. Generally, he discouraged such shows of deference in order to maintain his humility. If everyone around him bowed, knelt, and “Your majesty”’d him all the time, he found his head started to get so big, his pride would cloud his judgment.

“Good morning to you as well. I must say, general, I’m quite surprised. I’ve never met a woman named Ehsan before.”

She lifted her chin and the combination of the twinkle in her beautiful eyes and the smirk on her face gave the Shah another shiver. “My father was quite the jokester, your majesty. When he chose my name it was in hopes of creating many moments just as the one in which we find ourselves in now.”

Cyrus laughed. “I believe I would like to meet such a man.”

A small shadow passed over her face, dimming her twinkle and flattening her smile. “It would have been a great honor to introduce the two of you, your majesty, but I’m afraid he passed only three months ago.”

It made his chest feel uncomfortably tight, to see sadness descend over her like that. He wanted her to smile again, the way she had before. The idea of it possessed him, doing something to put that look on her face. He shook his head to clear it. This was one of the top generals in his army, he musn’t think that way. They needed to focus on strategic planning, not stories of baby names.

“I apologize for unintentionally bringing up something unpleasant, especially after such a pleasant greeting.”

She smiled again and Cyrus felt flushed. It must be the sun, he thought. He gestured demonstrably toward the expansive tents of his camp. “Please, come and make yourself at home. You will have your own area of camp to rest. You can go there now to freshen up before my servant Javid leads you to our meeting area.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” Ehsan said as she dismounted her camel. Javid was heading our way, and she lead her mount toward him to hand off the reins.

“Also, there’s no need to continue with the traditional honorifics and pleasantries now we’ve met, general. I much prefer to operate on more equal footing during military discussions.”

Her head snapped back at him, mouth slightly agape, but she didn’t respond except with another bow of her chin to her chest. The Shah would have to reinforce the needless nature of such gestures again when they met in the meeting room. He certainly didn’t need the distraction that the feeling her deference was encouraging to grow inside his heart.

----

Twenty minutes later, as he was pouring over a table filled with various maps of their current battle encampments, Javid announced Ehsan to the room.

“Thank you, Javid, send her in.”

Javid held up the tapestry separating them from the waiting area and Ehsan appeared like a vision. With her head covering removed, swaths of dark curls adorned her face and, out of the harsh sunlight, King Cyrus was struck by the beautiful color of her eyes, unlike any he’d seen before. Not brown, and certainly not blue. There was no hint of green, or even yellow in them, yet they seemed to enjoy a full spectrum of light and dark grey tints. When Ehsan looked at you, she gave the impression of peeking out from behind something, her own inner world, perhaps, like she needed to lean out of it in order to really see you.

Cyrus was about to invite her over to the table to discuss the regiments in her charge when she swept to the middle of the room and fell gracefully into a kneeling position before the Shah. It was humbling to experience and it left him speechless for a good while: her robes spread out on either side, the tendrils of her hair pouring over her shoulders and dangling from her deeply bowed head, and her hands, flat on her knees, unmoving.

“Please, Ehsan, as I said, I don’t require this kind of display. You are free to move about in my presence without such pleasantries, and you certainly don’t have to bow down to me. I am your king, that is true, but I am also just a human man.”

“Your majesty must understand … this is the precise reason that I choose to kneel,” Ehsan didn’t stand, but she looked up from her place on the rug. “Because you do not require it.” She bowed her head again. “I desire to demonstrate the respect I feel for your majesty in the face of such humility.”

Again, Cyrus was stilled and, this time, rendered speechless. Normally when he told servants and generals they can behave as they please, they can’t wait to shrug off the formalities, thrilled at the chance to behave in a casual manner with royalty.

“If you thought me humble before, General Ehsan, I can assure you it’s nothing compared with how your gesture has made me feel.”

The Shah walked across the room until he was closer to Ehsan. “Thank you.”

She raised her head, and her twinkling eyes set the room spinning around the Shah like when he was a young prince, performing cartwheel after cartwheel in the palace courtyard. Without thinking, he held out his hand to help Ehsan up. She looked at it as though it was made of some fine jewel and, after a moment of awed hesitation, put her hand in his.

The moment was over in an instant and their hands released each other as they crossed the tent and began discussing the maps, but Cyrus felt as though the skin she touched on his hand had burst into flames. He hid it under the table, shaking repeatedly, trying to throw off the burning echoes of her touch and focus on the task at hand.

If Ehsan felt similarly, she was masterful at hiding it. Every expression and gesture he observed from her was stoic at best. The realization that he was alone in his feelings made him feel sad, but also ashamed. He should be better than this, he scolded himself. He should show her half the respect she’d given him and take control of his thoughts.

Shaking his head, he began to discuss his thoughts about the moving troops from the north to populate the southern and eastern regions.

“Why do you do that?”

Cyrus’ head snapped up from where he was pointing on the map. “Do what?”

Ehsan looked down, apparently embarrassed.

“I apologize, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s alright. Please, tell me, what did you mean?”

She looked back at him sheepishly. “Shake your head like that, like a …” a small tittering laugh escaped her mouth and it sounded to the Shah like all the angels in heaven had just sighed, “Like a noise making instrument.”

This time, Cyrus is the one who laughed, long and loud. “Is that what it looks like?” The smile on Ehsan’s face in the wake of his laughter made the unnamed feeling in his chest grow larger, as if he’d swallowed mouthfuls of hot air that were inflating him. She nodded.

“I noticed it earlier when we were outside, after I mentioned my father. You shook your head side to side before you changed the subject.”

“I didn’t realize it was noticeable. It’s a tick I have, of sorts: a way of clearing my head when my thoughts begin to distract.”

“And do they distract you often, your majesty?”

The way her mouth lingered over the word majesty, as if she would never tire of saying it, led him to be distracted even then. He forgot what she’d asked, and when he tried to ask her to repeat it, he found he could only stare into her eyes where he was shocked to see her eyes stared back. Long moments passed between them like that, a shared silence growing with so much tension that the Shah felt a bead of sweat form on his upper brow and drip down his hairline. His mouth ran dry and he found that he could not think of a thing to say, even for all the battle victories in the world.

Suddenly, a cough shattered the moment. Javid had returned from watering the camels before the Shah expected, carrying a tray of food, and the Shah immediately began worrying about an entirely different kind of information leaking in the aftermath of these meetings—petty gossip. Thankfully his servant hadn’t seen him helping Ehsan up from the floor. That would have been difficult to explain without context given that Javid knew very well King Cyrus routinely refused to entertain gestures like that. As the servant set up lunch on the edge of the table that wasn’t covered with maps, the Shah cleared his throat.

“Ah,” he swallowed against the dryness in his mouth created by his nerves, “Lunch it is.”

Ehsan moved around to the other side of the table, as far away from the Shah as she could manage to be, and drew up one of the chairs. She went from appearing as dazed as Shah Cyrus felt to looking completely unaffected. It was puzzling to say the least.

He put his chair at the table where he stood, aware that keeping their distance would be the wisest course of action, and they dined as they discussed strategies. By the time their plates were empty, the Shah was not only comfortable with their plan, he’d also been sufficiently impressed by the depth of her insights. She was brilliant at military strategy and it was no surprise she’d risen to the rank of general within the short amount of time she’d been serving in the army. At one point, she countered one of his suggestions with a complete reversal of his idea, showing him on the map how more efficiently she could move troops the opposite direction, taking a shortcut through a valley he hadn’t known existed and wasn’t even listed on the map. He was floored, and stared at the sketches of what she’d just drawn out for several minutes.

“Your mouth is open, your majesty.”

He looked up at her, suddenly surprised by the proximity of her face to his, close enough to feel her breath on his face, to say nothing of the smile crossing her lips that could only be described as impish. During their talks, she’d ended up right next to him, so they could both lean over the same map, and it wasn’t until she mentioned his mouth that he realized their shoulders were close enough that they bumped together each time she moved. The Shah flushed, and shut his jaw with a faint snap.

“Are you amused?” His ego was slightly bruised in the wake of what he interpreted as a mocking tone, so he returned it with a biting one, “Forgive me for being impressed by your idea.”

Ehsan’s face fell, “Forgive my impertinence, your majesty,” She began to back away from the table and, before he could stop himself, the Shah snatched out to grab her wrist and hold her in place. She stared down at where his arm connected with hers and he could tell they both shared a moment relishing the realization of how easily he could encircle her wrist with his fingers. When he noticed how fast his heart was beating, he released her hastily. She didn’t move away, but she didn’t say anything more.

The Shah steadied himself with a deep breath, and tried to warm his tone to at least a friendly note. “As I’ve said before, Ehsan, you don’t have to concern yourself with such concepts as impertinence in my presence. You are clearly my equal in every way save for birthright.”

He expected that remark would reward him with another smile, but her eyes remained downcast. She folded her hands in front of her.

“I very much doubt that, your majesty.”

Her deference in the face of his bad attitude made him ache to apologize, to return them to the quiet ease of their fast-growing friendship, but she seemed to be retreating within herself. The desperation to draw her back out took over and the Shah knew then that there would be no stopping what happened next. He turned to face her and crooked one finger under her chin, gently tilting her face up to his. Watching her lips part slightly as they locked eyes made the Shah’s feet feel like they were cemented to the spot. A falling comet could not have moved him at that moment.

“Perhaps I can convince you now we know each other how unnecessary it is to address me with an honorific, Ehsan. You can stop calling me, ‘your majesty.’”

Her eyes darted from his lips to his eyes and back again, settling on his mouth as her breath grew shakier with every silent moment that passed.

She looked into his eyes again, and said, with as much gravity as the king had ever felt, “I would die first.”

It was then that the Shah knew he loved her. Three short hours from their first meeting and here he was, enthralled. He sealed his mouth over hers and she melted against him, her hands resting gently against his chest and his hand remaining under her chin, drawing tender circles against her jaw.

Minutes later, they broke apart, flushed with both excitement and embarrassment. Shah Cyrus hated to admit even to himself that he had no idea what to do next.

“I’m … I’m so sorry, Ehsan, that wasn’t—”

“Don’t. Please don’t apologize, your—” She looked down, obviously feeling strange about calling him your majesty after their kiss. She cleared her throat and returned to her friendly if somewhat formal general’s demeanor. “There’s no need for apologies, at least not in my estimation. Shall we finish our discussion?” She turned back toward the maps and detailed the rest of her shortcut plan without moving around to the other side of the table.

They didn’t touch again, but the ease in the banter returned, and they were laughing lightly together by the time Javid entered a few hours later.

“General Kasra has arrived for your next meeting, King Cyrus.”

His heart fell. Ehsan was scheduled to depart at the end of their talks and he would be stuck pouring over maps with the most unpleasant and arrogant general in his army. The Shah waited for Javid to leave, but he stood firm at his post by the opening of the tent.

Ehsan was gathering her things, wearing that secret smile Cyrus had grown so fond of so quickly.

“General Ehsan, would you care to stay at camp this evening? Surely your ride back would be more pleasant at dawn than at dusk.” That should work without raising Javid’s suspicions, the Shah thought. He hoped to dine with Ehsan once more before she set off and learn more about her family and upbringing. After all, he knew so little about her and his feelings made him burn with curiosity about every detail of her life.

The general walked up to him, slinging the bag of notes and supplies she’d brought with her over her shoulder and extended her hand. Cyrus took it and held tight, even after he could tell she was attempting to pull away. She smiled again, and the Shah felt more like a king at the moment than he ever had.

“Unfortunately, they’re expecting me back at our base this evening, your majesty.”

“No!” The Shah hadn’t meant to shout it.

“... no?” Ehsan was smirking again, and Cyrus cleared his throat, trying to appear casual and professional in front of Javid.

“My apologies, I, uh, I simply meant, surely they can wait? You’re the general after all.”

“General of a regiment that needs its updated orders as soon as possible, wouldn’t you agree, sir?”

She was right. Duty came first. Every word she said made his love for her increase, and he knew the pain he would feel when she departed would be indescribable. But if he was the king he claimed to be, that he aspired to be, he would have to let her go. He squeezed her hand as he let it drop from his grasp.

“Please keep me updated on your regiments' progress.”

“I intend to … your majesty,” Ehsan didn’t wink as she turned to leave, but she may as well have. He didn’t know when he would see her again, but the way she left, stopping to turn back and bow slightly just as she had when they met that morning, filled him so full of love her departure didn’t sting nearly as much as he’d expected it to.

He went to sleep that evening penning a letter to her in his head and holding on to one, thought he couldn't dismiss: neither of them had said goodbye.