YOU WERE LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader
Request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says- i’m a menace but i ADORED the spencer fic u posted 🥹 UGH THEYRE SO CUTE YOUR HONOURRRR 👹if it’s okay, may i request another fic with the same couple 🙈 perhaps one day reader is not as sweet or chirpy as she usually is, or she gets injured or threatened in the field? much love and lots of kisses xoxo 🫶
Description: Spencer swore he wanted to hate her. She was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. But how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?
Length: 5k (I'm feral for these two)
warnings: post prison reid. Angst. depiction of suicide from the Unsub. gory language used. guns mentioned. mention of $nuff video and other murders. Nothing that hasn't been done on CM already.
authors note: if y'all want to see more with these two just SAY because I am all ears I would die on this ship
There were a lot of times in his time at the BAU that Spencer had wished he could have changed the outcome of their bad guy, surprisingly enough. There was the time they found their UnSub a few minutes too late, and one of the victims fathers decided to take him out then and there with a shotgun to the head. He was just a kid. There was the entire time he was with Tobias Hankel, and he lived in a state of both fear and sympathy for the boy trapped in his own body after years of abuse. There was Nathan Harris, the kid who had stopped him at the subway station and practically begged him for help to stop his urges to murder, only to slit his own wrists before Spencer could get to him because he thought he was tainted.
He could see how it was easy in their job to get wrapped up in saving the day, in saving everyone they could. He just had hoped, on some stupid grace of a god he didn’t even believe in, that she would have at least remained untouched by the bad luck.
Spencer had always thought, since the first day he had arrived back into the office after his stint in prison, that she seemed to just waltz through life easier than anyone else. He knew the concept of luck was not quantifiable, that it was just a coincidence that good things happened to some people, and bad things happened to others. He always grouped himself in with the latter, because what was his entire life if not one bad hand of cards after another?
Part of him had been seething with vitriol jealousy when he first met her. He hated how the elevator doors seemed to open without hesitation for her, no waiting required. He hated how her hair never seemed to fall out of place, while his required primping and preening to upkeep. He hated how she was always so happy, whether it had been she’d been given an extra cookie at the bakery for free, or her coffee had just tasted super delicious that morning, or the road works clogging the city had been put on hold the one day she needed to drive into the office. She was one of those people, he had decided, that life just seemed to smile down upon, and she beamed back in that dazzling grin.
He felt sick to his stomach for ever wishing it gone, especially when she looked like she might never smile again.
They never liked to say that they had easy cases and hard ones, all of their cases were difficult to process. But this one had been a handful above the rest.
“UnSub has been killed on site, all units stand down,” Luke said into the radio, and the entire squadron took a sigh of relief, all of them except him.
Because he saw that look in her eye, the way everything sparkly about her seemed to have vanished.
They had been following Bobbie Wrids for a week. Five bodies in, five men shot between the eyes execution style, almost six by the time they’d arrived on the scene.
She’d gone with Tara around the front of the abandoned building; Penelope tracked their newest victim, Henry Frond, through his phone pinging off the nearest satellite towers, and it had been straight forward from there. Or at least it should have been.
Because by the time Spencer and Luke arrived in their own SUV, Penelope had time to access the rest of Henry’s phone, and it was clear to see the victimology behind all six men.
They were distributing snuff videos of women, some between themselves, some to other usernames on the darkweb, and Bobbie Wrids’ daughter had been one of them.
Bobbie had become somewhat of a vigilante, but he was a grieving father above all. He was a wounded animal chomping at the bit to soothe the ripping pain of his daughter's murder, the same one those men were getting off to.
Tara and her exchanged a glance as Penelope relayed the information over their headsets, her once serious expression falling into something sombre and sorrowful. How could she arrest a man she couldn’t help but feel sorry for, one she couldn’t help but think wasn’t entirely wrong in his actions.
“Bobbie Wrids,” Tara’s voice was stern, cutting through the silence of the desolate building. Their footsteps were careful as they made their way through the hallway, down to what had once been a rec-room, or perhaps a staff room, where they knew Bobbie had Henry, “This is the FBI, we’d like to talk,”
They heard nothing, and she looked up to the older woman hesitantly, her finger hovering over the trigger the way Spencer had taught her. Tara took a minute, knowing she was leading the charge here with the girl being so inexperienced, before she nodded to the door knob and the rookie twisted the handle, pushing the peeling wood open gently.
Bobbie Wrids stood in the centre of the room, moth eaten couches either side of the damp rug, the ceiling tiles half caved in from wear and tear. Henry Frond was already a pulp in the UnSub’s arms, and yet it was Bobbie that her eyes shot to first, sympathy shooting through every fibre of her being when she saw the distraught look on the father’s face.
He was grieving. He was grieving his little girl’s death. He was looking for a solution, and this seemed to be his best bet.
“Bobbie,” Her voice was shaky, her and Tara frozen in the doorway as the man brought the pistol to Henry’s beaten face, cocking it towards his temple before they could even explain themselves. “We’re going to come in, is that okay? We just want to talk, just let us talk-”
They had only edged closer by three paces between them as she was speaking before his knuckles turned white and he squeezed the gun tighter to Henry’s skin, the barrel contorting the flesh, “Don’t come any closer, this pig isn’t worth your mercy,”
“We know,” She said, her and Tara slowly stepping over a fallen ceiling tile, cracking under her boot as she met his desolate gaze for the first time, his head snapping to her. “We know what he did, Bobbie. What they all did.”
His throat bobbed, his bottom lip quivering and the sight of it, a man so broken, forced a frog into her oesophagus, and she willed herself not to cry.
“They hurt my little girl,” Bobbie choked out, his face turning mauve as the tears began to build behind his eyes, “She was my girl. She was only eighteen.”
She nodded, his wetted hues seemingly permissive when she stepped closer to where he held Henry hostage.
“I know, I’m so sorry for what happened to her,” She said, her voice croaky, unstable as she wrenched it into something audible, “I’m so sorry,”
“He doesn’t deserve mercy, none of them did,” Bobbie spat, his forearm crushing against Henry’s trachea in a vice-like grip. The man floundered, a wheeze coming from his lungs, not that she felt much sympathy for him.
She sprung into action, flicking her gun onto safety and holstering it, Tara doing the same as she lowered her weapon to her side. He profiled as a vigilante; he had no reason to hurt them.
“Bobbie, listen, I know they didn’t deserve to walk free, okay?” She said, taking the smallest step towards where the men stood, “But she wouldn’t want this for you, would she?”
The man flinched, his jaw hard as a rock with how he clenched his teeth together, as if holding back a sob.
“Come on, Bobbie. Let him go, we have enough evidence to get him sentenced. We can get you a plea deal, I know a good lawyer,” She begged, because she wasn’t beneath it, because she knew he was a good man backed into a corner, “Please,”
Maybe it was the way her eyes were soft when she looked at him, or the fact two more agents burst into the room from the hallway, Spencer’s eye immediately falling to where she was stood so close to their UnSub, her gun out of hand. Tara stood by, but that wasn’t good enough for him. He edged with light footsteps until he was behind her, his gaze cautious, never leaving the gun in Bobbie’s hand.
“Please,” She repeated, and Spencer saw Bobbie’s shoulders drop, every sliver of resolve draining from his body at her gentle tone, a deer approaching a hunter.
Henry was thrown to the floor, the man practically dead weight as he gasped, almost retching at the feeling of air sucking back into his chest frantically, and Luke and Tara were quick to wrestle him into cuffs, the woman reading him his Miranda rights.
Spencer almost made a grab for her then, because she was still creeping forward towards the man who had a loaded gun still live in his hand. He didn’t care for one second that the statistics said Bobbie wouldn’t lay a hand on her since she wasn’t part of his list. He didn’t care that every sign pointed to their UnSub being benevolent towards women, especially younger ones, that she fit his daughter’s description. Spencer didn’t care, he wanted her as far away from that gun as possible.
His heart lurched into his throat when Bobbie did in fact make a lunge for her, just not the way he’d feared. Because she had grabbed him. She’d pulled him into an embrace, a hug, kind and sweet as she always was.
Spencer cursed her for being so soft. It was going to get her killed.
“Agent,” His voice was terse, worried if you dug a little deeper than the sharp surface, but she didn’t listen to him. She held Bobbie tight as the man unravelled on her shoulder, falling into heart breaking sobs and it was then Spencer realised she was crying with him.
“It’s going to be okay, you’re okay,” She was shushing him, the killer, reassuring him he was safe, as if the killing thing wasn’t still between his fingers that clutched at her back with rough hands.
“They killed my girl, they took her from me, and then they laughed about it,” He wailed, and she nodded, squeezing him even tighter if that was so possible, “No one would listen, the police didn’t listen, I had to do something,”
“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be sympathising with the criminals. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help the gasping urge to comfort the man who had lost his whole world, “I’m listening. Tell me about her,”
“She was so beautiful,” Bobbie whimpered, sniffling into her shoulder. Spencer felt his chest twinge at the scene. He hated that she was so soft. “She never hurt a soul,”
She cried with him, though hers were choked down as much as she could get them, her wet cheeks the only proof she had ever let them slip.
“I’m sorry,” She said again, because no matter how many times she repeated those two little words, it would never bring his daughter back, “I can help you,”
He pulled away from her shoulder, and it was only then that Bobbie Wrids even noticed Spencer, his face taut in anxiety as he watched the man’s hands still holding onto her body as if she was the only thing that kept him upright, which Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if it were true.
He fished the cuffs out of his back pocket, his finger never leaving the trigger as he stared down at their UnSub cautiously. He knew he may be being cruel, knew that ten years ago he would be just as caring as her. But that Spencer was long gone. And what remained was screaming in terror that she was in the line of danger, that she was holding the danger in her bare hands like she didn’t see the jeopardy she was putting herself in.
Bobbie pulled away to look at her, the creases around his eyes deep chasms, and even with the smattering of grey hair, the stubble, the cold, empty look of someone with nothing left, she thought he might have been a handsome man once. He looked at her with a ghost of a smile, and one of his callused hands came up to tuck her hair behind her ear as if it had been second nature to him for eighteen years.
“You’re a sweet girl,” He murmured, and she blinked at him, her chest easing at the way his wails had subsided into something quiet. She could help him, she swore she would help him. He was a good man beneath it all. “But no one can help me anymore, sweet girl,”
And with that he lifted the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.
—
She heard someone scream before she realised it was coming from her own throat, but her ears were ringing and she couldn’t open her eyes. Her face was wet and hot, and for a second she thought it was tears, but she was beyond crying now. She felt arms pulling her back into a strong chest, and someone was murmuring to her, or perhaps they were speaking normally and the sound of the gunshot had knocked her hearing. Either way, it was like someone had pulled a bag over her head as she brought her shaking hands up to her eyes to wipe.
She managed to crack her lids then when the sludge was gone, only to see the room still a blurry mess. She could make out, in the haze of blobs and crimson tint, Bobbie’s body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle seeping into the rug as those long arms tugged her out of the room. She only then looked down to her hands where she had rubbed her face and she caught the same claret plasma coating her fingers, her white shirt, her pants, her arms. It covered her head to toe.
It was in her eyes, she realised when she saw the ichor coating her fingertips. It was blocking her vision, turning the world a vivid wine colour, and she thinks she whimpered, or perhaps it was a moan of horror seeing the puddle beneath Bobbie’s body growing larger by the second.
“I don’t understand,” She said out loud, her head spinning, and she brought her fingertips up to her eyes again, maybe to get the blood out, god there was so much blood on her face, or maybe because she hoped to everything out there that she would clear her sight and find it all a terrible hallucination, the product of one too many nights of sleepless tossing.
But when she rubbed her lids again, this time seeing the scene a little better, Bobbie was still dead. She had still been too late.
“You’re in shock, you need to breathe,” A voice instructed her over her shoulder, and it was from the same person who had their hands around her waist, pulling her away from the crime scene, as CSI filed in from behind them.
She tried pushing the arms off her, weak because she couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t the horror in her stomach, and it took her a second before she listened to their words and realised she was holding a breath in her chest, the way a toddler does when they’re overwhelmed.
“I don’t-” She gasped, the air rushing through her lungs, so fast it made her cough, “I don’t understand, I was going to help him- I don’t understand- why?”
“I know, just breathe for me, sweetheart,” Spencer. She only just realised it was Spencer speaking, because he had never called her that and the gentle tone he’d taken was nothing like his usual, civil cadence. He had been dropping a few jokes the past few weeks since she’d driven him home, had been more touchy feely with correcting her form when she was at the shooting range, had delicately touched the small of her back when they were navigating a crowd together. He was slowly cracking from his statuesque expression that hadn’t left his face since he’d gotten out of prison, but the softness with which he held her waist was entirely new.
“Spencer, I don’t- I don’t get it,” She said, her voice bubbling into a sob as she allowed herself to be pulled away with no fight left in her. He took her into the hallway, turning her body from the sight of his hand lifeless on the floor with little to no effort. She was damn near limp in his arms, “Spencer, I don’t under-understand, I was going to h-help him, why would h-he do that-”
“Shhh, you need to breathe,” He murmured into her hair, trying to lead her out the front of the building and far away from where she’d just been front row seats to a messy suicide, “Come on, just breathe for me, baby, and then we can talk,”
But she wasn’t listening, and he wasn’t offended. Spencer knew it was the shock. He knew the symptoms by how her respiratory system had picked up in a matter of seconds and it was like she had gone from zero to a hundred. She let out a long whine, tears collecting the blood on her lash line and her chest seized into action, gulping down air, too short to do anything for her lungs, and her legs began to buckle beneath the two of them.
Spencer stopped in the hallway, realising she was in more shock than he must have thought. He knew she was sensitive, hell it was one of his favourite things about her. He knew she felt everything so deeply, burned too easily, like a daisy wilting in a dry heat, or candyfloss melting in his mouth. Spencer knew, as awful as watching death up close was for any agent, it would hit her hardest of all of them.
He moved around to her front, his hands migrating from her waist up to her shoulders, brushing over her upper arms soothingly. But her body felt numb, her head felt heavy, and her eyes were glazed over, down a rabbit hole entirely away from him, even when one of his hands cupped her wetted cheek gently.
“Just breathe, hey, look at me,” He tried a firmer tone, and she bent to his will too easily. It was a punch in the gut seeing everything shining and pretty leached out of her eyes, as if she had become soulless in a matter of minutes, as if she had lost all hope in the world the second Bobbie pulled that trigger. She looked like hell, blood still fresh on her cheeks, in her hair, smeared around her eye sockets where she had scrubbed so hard to get it off her skin, “You need to calm down, you’re going to faint if you don’t breathe,”
She nodded, or something close to it, her eyes falling down to the floor, and she seemed to wrestle for control over her chest then. But what came after was worse, Spencer thought. Her brows screwed together, her eyes welling up with more of those fat tears, and her lips dropping into a devastated pout, her eyes trailing over the mess on her uniform, on her hands.
“Spencer, I don’t understand, I tried to help him, I wanted to help him,” She sobbed, sniffling to herself miserably, and he barely even thought about it when he pulled her into his chest, not caring that her skin would dirty his shirt.
His hand wound into her hair, stroking her sweetly as she buried her wails into his vest. He used his other arm to pull her close to him, which she seemed to have zero qualms about as she clawed at his back to keep him close, as if she didn’t want to face what was going to happen when they left that building.
Spencer regretted ever thinking her sunshine was too bright for him.
–
She hadn’t smiled in a whole week. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had given Penny a very forced smile when she had fussed over the younger woman the first day she got back, had said thankyou with downcast eyes and a fragile grin when the blonde presented her with a framed picture of a puppy to keep on her desk ‘incase she needed something nice to think about,’
She hadn’t looked at it once, because they both knew it wouldn’t do anything, no matter how much she pretended for Penelope’s sake that she would put it to good use.
He had taken her out for coffee on him that first day, but by the time they had got to the front of the queue, he had been doing almost all of the talking, which had become rare nowadays since he had come home from Mexico. Usually, it had been her filling the silences, because he knew in her right mind she hated the sound of static nothingness, she found it awkward and unnecessary when she could talk to anyone without thinking about it too hard.
They had got to the desk, the barista smiling up at him as he ordered his usual, before he turned to look at her as the woman serving asked her what she would like. But she wasn’t listening, she was watching out the window, nothing particularly invigorating beside a bird cleaning its feathers on top of a stop sign.
He said her name, putting his hand on her back and her head whipped around, her eyes empty as they looked up at him expectantly, “What do you want to drink?”
She blinked, waking herself from a stupor, and looked at the barista with an embarrassed expression, “Hot chocolate, please,”
And that was all she really had to say until lunch rolled around, and she excused herself to head home early. Emily smiled at her reassuringly, her eyes wary as she watched their happy-go-lucky rookie head for the elevators with a desolate look in her eyes.
Spencer hoped she would come around on her own, or maybe even be brave enough to talk to someone about the thoughts rattling around that head of hers, but she just didn’t. She stayed as silent as possible, only ever speaking when spoken to, asking Emily if she could finish off her reports at home, to which the Prentiss woman never protested.
But Spencer had had enough. He’d worried himself sick over her, and where all thoughts of how endearing and lovely and charming she was had sat in his head before, now it was all just ways he could think to make her smile again.
It was the following Tuesday by the time he braved action. She had gone home after their midday briefing, apologising to Emily with tired eyes that seemed to be growing more and more heavy by the day, like she hadn’t slept a wink in a fortnight. Which Spencer thought was entirely possible.
He pulled up to the house Penelope had not so discreetly told him was hers, definitely not because he’d asked, and definitely, definitely not breaching any human resource policies about distributing fellow workers information (meaning Spencer had almost certainly not begged Penelope for the address with those puppy eyes of his he knew could bag him anything).
The peonies in the window bays were wilting but her house was something out of a fairytale. He wasn’t sure why he was really so surprised. It screamed her, everything about it, from the toadstool post box to the little green, cast iron bench that sat in the garden, the metal forged to look like florets of ivy holding the sitter upright.
He rapped the brass knocker, the metal cold under his long fingers. Brushing invisible dirt off his shirt, he hoped she would answer as the present squirmed at his feet.
“Just a second,” He hushed, and as if she heard him, the front door swung open to reveal her bare face he hadn’t seen since he’d helped her wipe the blood from her skin in the back of the ambulance.
She looked at him with furrowed brows, before they quickly shot to the floor, to her cobbled pathway that had clicked under his shoes, and her face washed with a shock.
“Oh my god, Spencer!” She crouched to her knees, a slobbery lick immediately meeting her cheek as the Spaniel rubbed his wet nose up to her ear, sniffing her unique smell, as if it was a bag of Class A’s, “I never knew you had a dog,”
“I don’t,” He replied, kneeling with her to ruffle the soft fur behind the canine’s ear, “This is Ace. He retired from the Bomb Unit a month ago and Penelope sent me his handler’s number. They said he’s the happiest dog in the world,”
“I would be too if I stopped so many people from blowing up,” She said, but before he could ask what she meant exactly by that, Ace had jumped up and attacked her entire face with kisses as if he too thought that statement was worth silencing.
And she laughed. She laughed louder than she had in days, weeks, her eyes crinkling in joy as the little pink tongue stole away her sorrow, tickled away the traces of the blood that had tainted her skin.
Spencer smiled, his eyes watching her face scrunch in a squeal, hands eventually coming up to the elderly dog’s jowls to gently push him down.
“Oh, you are the sweetest guy,” She said, and the words had him tugging at the leash to lick her all over again, “Yes you are, you’re the sweetest little guy around, huh?”
She chuckled, scratching down the mutt’s neck, and her eyes flicked back up to Spencer, who watched her with more intent than she’d realised.
“Petting and receiving affection from pets causes spikes in serotonin in our brain and reduces anxiety, did you know that?” Spencer said, Ace pushing his muzzle into the palm of her hand to prove a point.
Her smile wavered slightly, and she looked at his hazel hues that seemed to see right through her, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so off lately, I just can’t sleep at the moment-”
“Don’t apologise,” He cut in, though his tone was kind, and the two of them stood back up to their full height, “What happened was horrifying, even some of the longest serving agents I know would struggle seeing that,”
She scoffed, unusually pessimistic coming out of her mouth, “You wouldn’t,”
His head tilted, not quite understanding what she meant, because she hadn’t sounded cruel when she said it. Then again, he didn’t think she was actually capable of that emotion.
She looked at him, a flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, something like that day he’d held her in the hallway; too fast he almost missed it.
“You’re so brave, Spencer, you’re like invincible. I mean, you survived prison and your mom getting kidnapped and you bounced straight back to work like it was nothing. I can’t even watch a murderer die without spiralling out of control,” She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and before he could respond on just how wrong she was, before he could tell her that that was exactly the opposite of what had happened because he had damn near changed every inch of himself in prison to stop himself from breaking, he caught her murmuring and he thought he might just have been punched all over again, “I wish I was like you,”
His jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stepped towards her, and her head shot to him, worried she may have said the wrong thing by mentioning everything that had happened, everything Pen had specifically said was a touchy subject, and she opened her mouth to apologise.
“Do you know how unbelievably glad I am that you are nothing like me?” Spencer said, his voice bordering on furious and her fumbled for a reply, worried she had truly pissed him off.
She wouldn’t blame him for hating her. She’d always worried, until perhaps that day they’d gotten into her car and she’d driven him home, that her very essence annoyed him.
“I’m sorry-” She started, but he shook his head.
“Stop apologising,” He said, his hand reaching up to grab where her fingers tugged together nervously, his hold featherlike, his face softening when he saw her expression, “I don’t want you to be anything like me. I like you just how you are,”
She sighed, eyes doe like with emotion as she looked at him, “Really?”
He smiled, a rare and genuine smile as she seemed to glow under his words, “Yes, really.” Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the way that the twinkle returned to her expression when he smiled at her with something almost like the old Spencer in him, before he cleared his throat, “We all like you. Everyone on the team likes how you are,”
She paused, nodding to herself as if knocking herself out of a silly daze, and Ace bounced on his hind legs trying to get her attention again.
“You don’t think I’m too sensitive?” She asked, holding her palm out for the dog to nuzzle at with that wet nose of his.
Spencer shook his head, “Sensitive is good. It means you feel something. Means you feel the good things deeper too,”
Her smile was blinding, because she’d never thought of it that way before, and she looked like her old self again. Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to think she was never going to think about Bobbie again, he still thought about that first UnSub he’d tried to save. He still thought about Tobias Hankel. He thought about them all.
But he was going to make sure she never turned into him. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if she did. He’d protect her sunlight even if it burned him to know he could never have her the way he wanted. Because she was everything good, and he was him.
She looked down at Ace, the life returning to her as she stood aside for the two of them to enter her house, “Tea?”
Yep. Spencer felt something run hot knowing she would always be out of reach. Didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though.
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Time Traveller AU pt 6
Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here. Time Traveller AU masterlist is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more!
PART 7 is here!
Its been a week since Baldwin finally came clean about the kiss with Charlotte, a week since you cleared of him "cheating on you", not that you cared if he did, and a week since you realised Guy tried and failed miserably to sabotage Baldwin through Charlotte.
Its also been a week over the due date you were supposed to return to Egypt to get your tools from Abbas, but its been hard to leave when Baldwin insists on spending time with you 24/7 because wants to make up to you for "suspecting his devotion to you".
He draped himself over your shoulders, caging you in his arms as he pecks your temple. "I'm sorry for making you doubt my love for you, princess. No, no- clearly, I'm the one at fault! Let me make it upto you~" Ugh, sometimes him being such a green flag is making it seem like a red flag. But you cant argue because... well, if you dont let Baldwin shower you in affection, then he might stop chanting "its my fault, princess" and change the narrative into "its your fault, princess and you need to be punished for doubting me- the KING, for slapping me- the KING, for thinking yourself so highly that you think i cant have all the women i want, me- the KING! To the dungeons you go, darling!"
Anyways, you both were now sitting down in the royal gardens, Baldwin's head laid in your lap as you worked your fingers through his luscious locks, absentmindedly braiding his hair while he made you tell some stories.
"And so, she found out her husband was cheating on her because she found out a jar of strawb- a jar of lard in her house." You looked down at his face, finding him already staring up at you, eyes full of awe. "And she doesnt eat lard. She hates it, so she never allowed it in the house."
Baldwin let out a small gasp. "And then what did this- Sharkerilla lady do?"
"Shakarina left Pickle. Divorced him." You told him, adding in small daisies in his hair. His face displayed pity. "Wow. And how do you know these people?"
You paused for a second. You cant explain to him how Shakira and Pique were celebrities and the concept of drama channels on youtube.
"We were neighbours." You hummed, patting his head. "There, I did your hair. Now I'm going-"
"No. Come on, we havent spent enough time." He whined, blue eyes looking at you pleadingly.
You scoff. "Baldwin, we've spent the entire day together. We ate breakfast and lunch together, we read books in the library, we looked at tiaras and crowns for the wedding, we even played chess." He lifted his head up from your lap and rested it on his palm as he leaned on his shoulder.
"And you lost all 5 games." Baldwin grinned, making you smack his forehead gently.
"I need to go-"
"Why?"
"Because I need to make arrangements for my trip to Egypt." You explained as Baldwin groaned, plopping his head face-first into your lap. "No." He mumbled against your dress.
"No?"
"No." He raised his head, pouting at you. "You're not going to Egypt. I miss you too much."
You gave him a lazy smile. "I'll be back soon."
"Not soon enough." He argued. "I have to go find my family, Baldwin." You continued on with your lie, raising a hand to caress his cheek. He sighed and leaned into your touch. "I can send the knights to find them." "They wont be able to. Only I will. Besides, I need to know what theyre like, if its even best to let them back into my life again, hm?"
He pondered over for a moment. "Then I will come along?" "What? Why?" He gave you a charming smile. "Because I dont want to part from you. Not for weeks, not for days, not even for-" He leaned up close to your face, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips back to your eyes. "-a minute."
Your face flushed and you looked to your side, using your hand to push his face away, making him chuckle as he grabbed the same hand and pressed a kiss to it. "You're so adorable, my little prude."
You shot him a glare. "I- I'm not a prude. But at least one of us should have a little shame."
He gave a chuckle, poking your still flushed cheek. "Shame? Whatever for? I love you." His eyes lit up in amusement as your head whipped towards him. Baldwin raised a brow at you. Its not the first time he's confessed, but... it still catches you offguard everytime.
"Did you hear me? I love you." He repeated, eyes still twinkling at how you continued to become flustered.
You opened your mouth and then closed it like an idiot, not knowing how to reply.
"Thank you." You finally said, looking anywhere but at him. He burst into a fit of laughter. "Oh god- I tell you- I love you and you say "thank you"? You really are something out of this world!" Baldwin teased you, making you huff.
"Lets not get off topic, Baldwin. You cant come with me to Egypt because you cant abandon Jerusalem. If your throne is empty, Guy- though he doesnt have the brain for it, or Salauddin or someone else will attempt to take your throne from you! You have a responsibility to your people! Keep them safe." You reminded him.
Baldwin stared at you before sighing, leaning back and resting his head on his arms. "You're always so smart, aren't you?" He smiled with his eyes closed. "I suppose it is a good thing that you care so much for your future subjects."
-
Next day, you were all set to leave for Egypt again. Baldwin and you stood at the gates of the castle as the kingdom all gathered around to bid you safe travels. You were ignoring Baldwin's stupid lovey dovey eyes boring holes into you, because there are people here and you dont want this blue orbed man to embarrass you.
But alas, he took your hand in his, making you look at him. He flashed you his dimples, bringing up your hand to press a kiss to it, the crowd cooing while you blushed (though it could be mistaken for anger with how hard you were frowning).
Tearing his eyes away from you, he addressed his people. "O people of Jerusalem! Your princess is going on an important journey. I ask you all to pray for her safety and well being!" The crowd looked on you two with awe, or more at Baldwin for being such a doting husband-to-be.
"While I know that your hearts must ache to see your princess depart from us for some time, I bring you good news to keep your hearts at peace as well." You looked at Baldwin in confusion. Good news? What is he talking about?
Baldwin smiled at you, the sunlight hitting his face at angle that made him look majestic.
"In 3 weeks time, the princess and I will marry!" Your eyes widened as the crowd erupted in cheer.
Baldwin hugged you close, and you whispered. "Three weeks? But I'll be gone for at least two! I wont have enough time to make-"
"Dont worry about a thing, princess. Sibylla and I will make all the arrangements necessary and trust me, it'll be a wedding for generations to remember." He pulled back, grinning at you as he pecked your forehead. "You just focus on returning safely, okay?"
Sibylla, Guy and their son were also there to bid you farewell. Sibylla pulled you in for a tight hug, promising to give you a grand wedding and that she'll keep your prefrences in mind. Their son ran off and Sibylla went to chase after him, leaving you alone with Guy.
"Bye." Guy gruffly said while you smiled tightly at him. "I know what you did, you buffoon." He looked at you slighted. "What the hell are you-"
"Charlotte? The letters? Yeah, we'll talk when I return. And you better not cause anymore trouble for me or else-" You turned to look at Baldwin, waving sweetly at him. Guy gulped, taking in your threat.
-
As usual, your first stop was at Salauddin's camp. You would go without stopping here, the knights Baldwin sent with you claimed to know the way but... you dont trust them to know how to survive the desert. And you knew you were right when some people from your caravan started feeling faint.
"Return to Jerusalem and take care of yourself." "But we cant just leave you, princess-" "You are not going to be able to serve me if you dont survive the desert. Salauddin's camp is near and with his guards combined with mine, I'll be more than safe. Go now. And tell the king that I insisted you returned." You assured them, commanding a few knights to guard them on their way back.
Looking ahead, you saw the sand hill beyond which Salauddin's camp was. Isabella, your lady-in-waiting, gave you your niqaab and chaddar.
-
"And then, he told me about who Charlotte was and what really happened. It was all a big misunderstanding." You told Salauddin as he moved his pawn.
"You believed him?" He raises a brow as you made your move.
"Of course! I already knew Guy was behind it. I figured it from the letters, and his face practically gave it all away when I confronted him about it." You reached under your veil to fan yourself. "Is it burning in here or am I just imagining it?"
Salauddin turned and brought you some cold water. "Guy could be a threat to you. Dont trust him."
You turned your head to the side, barely lifting your veil before bringing the glass underneath it to your lips, gulping it down as you let out a relieved sigh. "I know. Guy is a tool, and tools are meant to be used."
His lips quirked slightly at your words. Sitting back down, he played his move. "When do you plan on leaving Baldwin?"
"Soon. The plan is in motion." You took some time before moving your knight. Salauddin wasnt making this game easy for you this time and neither was the hot temperature.
He leaned forward, taking your knight with his bishop. "And how do you plan on doing that when your fiance has just announced your wedding date?"
You narrowed your eyes at him. "How did you- spies?" Salauddin's silence confirmed how news travelled so fast. "You dont need to worry. I'll be long gone before the wedding day."
"Care to indulge me on your plan?" He popped a date in his mouth.
"No." You replied making him glare at you. "If your plan involves relying on Guy, then you're even stupider than you look."
You scoff, pushing his king down. "I'm sorry, how many rounds have you won against me?" He smirks, though you suspect that he's just trying to cover up for being a sore loser.
"Maybe I just let you win so that you get to live." Of course, how can you forget his "win or you die" version of chess.
"Whatever you say, grandpa." His jaw clenched, making you chuckle. "Your existence gives me a headache. Leave."
As you walked out, you're suddenly hit with a wave of dizziness. Under your veil, your face is sweaty, you cant even use your hands to wipe it away because of how clammy they are, you even feel beads of sweat rolling down from your neck to your leg.
"Are you alright?" Salauddin came up behind you, eyes studying you stumbling a bit.
"Yeah- I'm just- hot..." You muttered, sweat gathering around your upper lip while your mouth felt like cotton. He watched you blink slowly as the sun hit you in the face, making you raise your hand to shield yourself, even though your muscle cramped.
"Y/n?" You heard him call you, but black dots clouded your vision and then in a second, you fainted.
-
You woke up to the sound of drums playing outside. Looking around, you recognised this to be the women's tent you had been in the first time Baldwin brought you here.
Isabella walked in, halting for a moment when she realised you were awake before rushing towards you. "Princess? Are you okay?" She poured you a glass of water, helping you drink it. "What happened?"
"You fainted from the heat. We were going to take you back to the kingdom but Sultan Salauddin advised us all to stay put here because the air was only going to get hotter for the rest of the day. And by night, it would be too cold for us to make it back." She smiled gently. "He was kind enough to offer us stay here."
You nodded and sighed. For sure none of you wouldve survived if you were to return to Jerusalem today.
You walked out of the tent to see it was night now. The drums you heard earlier were being played by some men of Salauddin's, accompanied by few women clapping and having an overall merry time around the bonfire.
You didnt spot Salauddin with them, but you suppose he's probably either working or resting.
The temperature had indeed dropped as night fell, and you wrapped a shawl around before joining the camp fire. You sat down on the ground with some women, smiling as they immeadiately welcomed you warmly. The one on your right was quick to show you her baby, and you recognised him to be the one you saved.
"Jibrael." She told you his name. The baby was almost a month old, and his chubby cheeks made you coo. Jibrael- or Gabriel, is an angel who acted as an intermediary between God and humans and as bearer of revelation to the prophets, most notably to Muhammad (PBUH). In Christianity, Gabriel was the archangel announcing the coming birth of Jesus Christ and John the Baptist. In Judaism, Gabriel is a helper to Daniel and a warrior angel for God's cause.
You played with the baby for a while before handing him back to his mother to be put down for sleep. It was getting cold now and most had already left to go to bed now. You wrapped the shawl around you closer, snuggling into it as your eyes gazed at the dancing flames. You felt someone sit next to you.
"How are you feeling now?" Salauddin asked, keeping his eyes ahead.
"I'm fine. Thank you for catching me."
"I didnt. You fell. It was funny." You turned to glare at him (the respectable gap between you two did not go unnoticed... or unappreciated by you.) and perhaps for the first time you saw him smiling. Genuinely.
Though his thick beard covered most of his lower third of the face, you could see his sharp jawline that sculpted his face. Strong. Hard. His lips, bottom one appearing to be plumper than the upper one, were resting in a relaxed smile.
The moonlight seemed to soften his sharp features, but his kohl lined eyes adorned with luscious lashes shone with amusement and... something in the orange hue of the bonfire.
He turned his head to you. "What?" You were thankful for your veil covering your expression for being caught staring at him like an idiot. You shake your head, dismissing him, turning your head back towards the dying fire.
"What are you going to do once you leave Baldwin?" Salauddin asked, stoking the fire.
"Leave."
"To where?" You shrug. "Anywhere. Maybe try finding my family. Or venture somewhere else."
"He wont give up so easily." You rolled your eyes. "Yeah yeah, because he loves me and all-"
"He wont forgive your betrayal." Salauddin cut you off. "He wont forgive you for the embarrasment. He wont forgive you for the insult of rejecting a king. He wont just- let you go." He looked at you, his tone haunting as he uttered the next words.
"Baldwin will hunt you down. And he will make you wish you were dead."
You stared at him, processing his words. Baldwin would... hurt me?
"Are we talking about the same man?" You ask him with a light chuckle, though your throat has ran dry.
He nods. "I know he seems like he couldnt hurt a fly, and physically, he couldnt until you cured him. But I've seen him on the battlefield. I've had him as my enemy and I've observed him obliterate people who just tick him off." He offered you some dates, and you took a few. You were hungry, and these looked pretty good right now.
"Baldwin is smart, calculating. He's the king, he has the power to end his enemy very easily. At the drop of a hat. But he doesn't. He waits for the perfect moment, or rather creates the perfect chance to torture any man who had the misfortune to be on the receiving end of his anger. And he does it with a completely cool, clear mind." And even though Salauddin has fought Baldwin many times, they both know they're only fighting for their people, for their religion. Its nothing personal, so they're technically not enemies.
"So what do you suggest I do to not piss him off so badly? I've already tried rejecting him respectfully."
He stayed quiet for a few moments, stoking the fire. He smiled when he felt your curious eyes on him.
"There is a way." He said.
"Which is...?"
His smile widened even more. "You're not ready for it yet." You frowned. "Drop the act, Salauddin. You came here by yourself because you wanted to tell me the plan. Stop teasing and just tell me." He chuckled hearing you become frustrated.
"In due time, Y/n. In due time." You roll your eyes, standing up. "I'm not going to beg you to tell me. But your "plan", which I dont think exists, it better not mess with my escape." You stomped back inside your tent, and Salauddin snickered as you tripped a bit on your chadar on the way in.
He stood up, giving a nod to the rest as they all settled in for the night.
-
"Salauddin!" You cried out, your eyes full of tears that he could see from a mile away, even if your were wearing a niqaab. He could feel your agony, your distress. You were standing in the middle of the desert alone, the boiling sun along with your black chadar covering you from head-to-toe, would only be increasing your body temperature. Why were you all alone? He left you with his caravan. Or did Baldwin leave you in this harsh enviorment to die? Did he find out you were going to leave him?
"Salauddin!" You called out to him again, your voice wet from all the crying. This time, he rode his horse towards you. Fast. He needed to get to you, even though the galloping hurt his shoulder. Yes, he got wounded while he was fighting. He sustained many injuries, many gashes, so much so that by the time he reached you, his white armour had turned bloody. But he was not bothered by it, no. He needed to reach you. You. How long have you been out here? Arent you dying of thirst?
Your arms were still wide open, though drooping from the lack of energy. He could hear you sobbing as you called him again, and he all but ran towards you, bodies colliding as he pulled you into a strong embrace. Muscled arms wrapped around you, comforting you that he's here now. You're safe now.
Salauddin looked around as you bawled into his chest, trying to see if everyone had really abandoned you here and... left you die.
You pulled away from him, but Salauddin didnt remove his hands from you. And thats when he felt the cloth you were wearing. It was too thin. The sun must've burned your skin now. Is that why you're crying? You're in pain?
In a blink, he removed his own thick black chadar that rested on his shoulders and wrapped it around you, pulling it over your head to stop more heat damage.
"Y/n?" He spoke softly as you continued to cry so brokenly as he adjusted the cloth over your body. "What happened?"
"Y-you left me!" You blubbered. He shook his head. "No. I- I left to go in battle. I couldnt take you along. It was dangerous-"
"You left me, Salauddin! You left me here! Baldwin- he hurt me! He hurt me so badly! And you weren't here to protect me!" You sobbed out, your eyes red and swollen from the tears. "I am a part of the ummah! I am a Muslim! You- you were supposed to keep me safe! On your honour, I was in your care! Why didnt you save me, Salauddin?"
Salauddin felt his heart being crushed at your words. He failed to keep you safe? But... he was at war. What was he supposed to do?
He grabbed your shoulders, pulling you to his chest as he rubbed circles into your back. "I'm sorry." He whispered, shushing you as your body shook from tears. "I'm here now. I promise to keep you safe, Y/n. I will never leave you again. I will never let anyone hurt you again. I swear, Allah as my witness, I will do everything to keep you safe." You pulled your head back from his chest, your red eyes looking at him weakly.
"You're too late, Salauddin." You whispered and a sharp sound whooshed through the air, making your body jolt in his arms. You both looked down and thats when he saw it-
An arrow. Poking through your chest.
"Y/n?" His voice trembled, watching the life drain out of your eyes.
You fell, and so did Salauddin, catching your body. He couldnt- he couldnt believe it. He cradled you in his arms, readjusting the chadar over you again, softly calling your name.
Wake up. Wake up, Y/n. Return to me.
Footsteps approached him, though he couldnt bare to tear his eyes from you. He already knew who it was.
"Why?" Salauddin asked him.
Baldwin kneeled down to his level, staring at you for a moment before yanking his arrow out of you, making a stream of blood gush out. Salauddin panicked, tried to cover the gaping wound with his hand. He looked at Baldwin in disbelief. This... this was not the Baldwin he knew. Baldwin was never so cruel- so heartless.
"She deserved it." Baldwin stated before stabbing him in the chest.
Salauddin continued to hold you in his arms, watching Baldwin leave on his horse as you two bled out to your deaths in the middle of the desert.
Salauddin woke up with a jolt, his forehead sweaty as he breathed fast. He could feel his heart beating against his chest loudly.
Nightmare. Thats all it was. He was still in his bed, in his tent.
He got up to fetch himself some water, taking sips to slow down his heart. Judging from the darkness, he knew it was still nighttime. It was quiet, everyone was asleep except for a few men he left to guard them.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
Salauddin whipped around just in time to knock the shadowy figure standing behind him with a sword. In a second, Salauddin had overpowered and snapped his neck, only then realising more shadows moving outside his tent.
"We're under attack! WAKE UP!" He yelled before grabbing his two swords and running out to defend his caravan.
-
You woke up to screaming and Isabella pulling you out of bed.
"We're under attack!" She says, yanking you out of the women's camp that was set on fire. Your eyes were wide and for a moment, you were frozen as you took the scene in front of you.
Fire. There was fire everywhere. All the camps were ablaze, along with some people being burned alive. Haunting screams echoed the entire area. Time slowed down as you saw Salauddin's men fighting... some people. You couldnt figure out who they were, but you knew they werent the knights Baldwin had assigned for you. No, you saw them fighting these mysterious figures as well. They were covered in dark clothes to blend in with the night, had hoods and masks covering their faces but they fought skilfully and very fast.
"Princess, we must leave!" Isabella caught your attention again, dragging you away from the chaos. You saw her following a knight- your knight, who led you towards a horse for you to escape with.
Salauddin... where's Salauddin?
You looked back frantically and you spotted him in the sea of flames, cutting through multiple armed one with his two swords slicing them brutally.
For a moment, your eyes met and then in the next, he screamed your name.
Isabella had pushed you away just in time as two men came at you with swords. You knight yelled at you to run. Again, Isabella pulled you to make an escape but it wasnt long before you two got separated by a woman who was on fire, running in between you two.
"H-help her." You told Isabella who took of her shawl to put out the fire. In the middle of all this commotion, you heard a distinct cry.
A baby's cry.
Jibrael!
It was coming from one of the tents. You ran in, looking around for the baby before spotting the bassinet. You grabbed the crying baby and held it close to your chest, trying to shush it as you walked towards the exit only to halt when you saw who was blocking it.
The shadowy figure. He was wearing dark hood and mask, while the rest of his armour was made of leather. He was armed with swords, daggers and a satchel.
It clicked. Assassin.
The assassin stared at you with dark eyes taking a step forward. You backed away, holding the crying baby protectively to your chest. He tilted his head at you, and for a second, you thought you saw amusement in his eyes.
Slowly, he walked out of the tent without saying a word but he stood right behind the curtain of the tent. You saw his shadow pull out his sword before standing there still.
What is he doing?
You turned around, hoping to find another exit but thats when you saw it. Two more shadows stood outside the tent and then they dropped something on the tent walls.
Fire. They lit the entire tent on fire and stood outside with their swords, giving you the choice to either die by their swords or burn yourself alive.
The fire spread fast, burning the flammable tent easily. Dark smoke started to surround you making you cough. The baby continued to cry harshly and you pulled him under your chadar to protect him from the fire and smoke.
But you didnt realise it until it was too late. Your chadar, your clothes had caught on fire as well. You screamed for help, screamed in agony as your skin burned. It felt like you were being branded, felt like someone was ripping your skin off.
Is this it? Is this how it all ends for you? Suffocated, skin charred, body naked? In a period where no one knows who you really are?
You fell to your knees before hunching over the baby, cradling it in your arms as its harsh cries burst your ears, protecting him from being burned for as long as you can.
Allah... Allah... Allah...
Through the thick smoke, a figure ran and covered your body with a thick cloth, patting down to put out the flames.
He picked your trembling body up, your arms still wrapped around the baby protectively. He walked through the ablaze tent, his face still covered by the smoke, or perhaps your vision was too blurry.
He exited the tent, the smoke cleared out and a gush of air filled your lungs. But you were burned, suffocated and exhausted.
The last thing you saw before your world faded to black was Salauddin's face.
-
You woke up to the sound of Quran recitation. A gentle, steady voice read the words beautifully.
Fluttering your eyes open, you looked around the room for the source. To your side, you found Salauddin reciting the Quran with his eyes closed in concentration. Was he a hafidh? (Hafidh is someone who has memorised the Quran completely).
He opened his eyes when finished reciting, looking stunned for a second to find you awake before a small smile graced his lips.
"We're in Egypt now." He informed you before concern washed over his face. "How are you feeling now? I changed your bandages in the morning, but I think its time to replace them." He grabbed the bowl of water and bandages on your side.
"B-bandages?" He stopped before understanding your confusion.
"You were in the tent when the assassins set it on fire. Your... clothes caught on fire, which stuck to your skin and burned it as well. I had to remove the remains of your clothes to treat your burns-"
"What?!" Your eyes looked down to confirm his words, he had indeed changed your clothes. "Why did you-" Your hands touched your face, heart sinking as you realised your veil was not there.
"You removed my niqaab?! My clothes?!" Your fury was only a disguise for your fear of what he'd seen, what he'd done to you in your vulnerable state.
He shook his head. "I had to do it as soon as we were safe. You were hurt-"
"Why? Why did you have to do it? Why not Isabella or any of the other women?!"
His face turned solemn. "Isabella... was gravely injured. She was in no position to look after you. Most people- most women from my tribe did not survive. The few who did were also wounded. The men... I just thought you wouldnt prefer someone you didnt know to look at you in such state." Salauddin looked at you, his eyes clear. "I did not do anything unbecoming of a man. Allah as my witness, I did not touch you with ill intent."
Perhaps it was the way he said it, or perhaps you just wanted to keep your mind at peace but... you believed him.
"How's Isabella now?" You let him change the dressings on your arms, watching him like a hawk as he moved quickly and carefully, no unnecessary touches or lingering that would make you uncomfortable. Even when he treated the the burns on the back of your legs, he worked fast, applying some balm on the red areas. The balm was like a cool gel against your irritated skin.
"She's better now. Just needed some rest." He replied as he finished wrapping the bandage on your legs. "Your back." Salauddin softly asked. You hesitated.
He sighed. "Y/n... I need to apply the balm or your skin will scar." You slowly turned around, holding your breath as you removed the robe from your back partially.
If he wanted to, he could've done anything when you were unconcious. You calmed yourself.
Again, Salauddin's hand worked fast, applying the balm quickly and placing some gauze over the marks. He pulled your robe over your back again, letting you turn around with a flushed face.
"My... my face?" You asked cautiously. You did not know if damage had been done there as well.
Salauddin understood you. "Fortunately, your face was save from the flames." He stood up and went over to the wardrobe to grab you a white chadar, handing it to you so that you cover your head with it. "Maybe when you were ducking over Jibrael, your arms covered both you and him from the fire."
"Jibrael...?" You asked. He smiled assuringly. "He's fine. You saved him... again." You sigh in relief. At least this wasnt all for naught.
Salauddin sits back down in the chair and though you've covered your hair with the shawl, he keeps his eyes trailed down on his hands in his lap. "I must ask you of one thing." You peeked at him before keeping your eyes focused on your lap as well.
"Will you... tell Baldwin about this incident?" Why would you when it would only cause Baldwin to panic and prevent you from leaving the castle, or his sight at all? You still need to come here to get parts for your time machine and even if the machine was working, you need to be able to use it without Baldwin or his army of knights breathing down your neck.
"No. It will only cause misunderstandings between you and him and I need to punish the real culprit for it."
He frowned but didn't raise his gaze. "And who might that be?"
"Those men... they were assassins, right?" He hummed. "Judging by how vicious they were, I think they were Ismailis."
Ismailis were a sect of Shia Muslims. Basically, like the great schism of Christianity into Orthodox and Catholic Church, Islam also had a schism that divided it into Sunni and Shia Islam. Shia Islam further had divided into different sects, of which one was Ismailis.
Sunni and Shia Muslims have been at war with each other since the beginning over religious differences. And considering Salauddin was not only Sunni Muslim but also targeted many Ismaili assassins so that they would not oppose his rule, it would be an understatement that they wanted Salauddin dead.
But... you know Salauddin had already gotten rid of most of the assassins and established his dominance over them. You're sure he's already had a peace treaty with them.
"Salauddin, you have an agreement with the Ismailis, don't you?" You watched his eyes widen slightly. "You're on peaceful terms with them at the moment?"
"How did you know?" Of course, the great Sultan Salauddin, an orthodox Sunni, wouldn't want the world to know that he spared the Ismailis. No, that would stir rumours that Salauddin has empathy for Ismailis, for the Shias, and which would lead to the rumours of hum being a Shiite Muslim.
You waved him off. "I know your character. I know of your mercy. Besides, I know both you and the Ismailis have a bigger common enemy- the Christians. Its more than likely that the Ismailis are supporting you so that you defeat Baldwin and claim Jerusalem, then they can focus on you. Plus, if the Ismailis wanted to kill you, why wait until now? They know you've been camping outside Jerusalem for months now." Salauddin was... impressed by your deduction skills to say the least. How are you connecting the dots so fast? Just who are you, Y/n?
You rubbed your chin. "So that means that someone not only hired the assassins but also wants us to think that the Ismailis were behind it all." Who could it be? Someone who wants to harm Salauddin but... they also wanted to harm you. It couldnt be the Roman Catholics or other Christians. No, they'd know better than to interfere with Baldwin, their Holy Emperor's war. Especially not with his wife-to-be in harms way. Who... who would know that you're with Salauddin and still attempt an assassination-
"Guy." You muttered, pinching the nose of your bridge. Of course, its fucking Guy, shit for brains Guy who cant sit still and wait his turn to play king.
"Guy? Why would he attack me when you're still here?" Salauddin's mind immeadiately gives an answer as soon as he asks out loud.
"Because I am here." You groan. "He's trying to eliminate us both, or at the very least- me, while I'm with you so that he can provoke Baldwin to go to war with you because you "killed" his future wife. He would tell Baldwin that it doesnt matter if they were Ismailis or not, we were all Muslims and this is just how Muslims are! He'd send Baldwin off to not only go to war with you but rather go to war with Muslims everywhere! And knowing Guy, he probably hopes that Baldwin dies in the process of his rampage. If you, me or Baldwin are all dead, or even one of us is, then Guy will only have to worry about dealing with one less person. His best bet was probably to get rid of me and you both, then have Baldwin go to war with all the Muslims who killed his fiancee. He's using all of us as pawns so that he gets to sneak on to the throne and be king!"
You heard Salauddin sigh. Perhaps he agreed with your theory. Perhaps he didnt. Whatever he may think, you know he will still conduct a thorough investigation of his own to find out who the real culprit is,
"Dont worry, I will deal with Guy. In fact, I'll let you have him to slaughter as you please." Of course, Salauddin will kill Guy. He has to pay for the blood of all his people.
Salauddin watched you get up from the bed and walk towards the vanity. "How long will these take to heal?" You asked, referring to your burns. "Usually take about a month, but the balm I used will significantly fade the marks." Good. You dont need Baldwin freaking out over them.
He stood up to take his leave. "I'll check on what information they've been able to gather from the assassin we caught. You-" He pointed towards the bed. "Rest. I mean it. These burns will only get worse in the heat outside, thats why I gave you the coolest room in the palace." He continued to glare at you until you finally sighed and sat on the bed. "I have to go see Isabelle-" You tried but he raised his hand. "No. You are to stay here, in your room. No one gets in, and no one gets out. I dont trust anyone to not try to kill you, not even in your own entourage- whatever is left of them. My men are stationed right outside. If you need anything, you tell them. But you are not to leave your chambers."
"I'll see you at dinner." He left and you saw the guards stationed outside your door.
The great thing about Egyptian palaces was that they had big windows to allow for ventilation. So you were already out of the window and climbing along the edge. You were about to jump when you heard someone call you.
"P-princess?!" Isabelle looked at you in horror. Apparently, you had climbed down near the balcony of her room. "Oh hey, Isabelle! How are you now?"
"I- I'm fine- princess, please get down from there!" She practically begged, fearing for your life. You climbed over her balcony and hugged her. "I'm so glad you're okay! Because I need you to do me a favour." You gave her a sweet smile while she looked at you in confusion. "See, I need to go out for a bit but Salauddin has told me to stay in and rest. So... I need you to cover for me again, just like last time."
"I- what- princess-"
"I wouldnt ask you if it wasnt of grave importance." You pleaded, finally making her give in. "Okay, I'll go to your room-" You stop her when she begins walking away.
"You cant just walk in there. There's guards stationed there and they wont let you in."
"Then how am I supposed to get in?"
You smiled at her. She didnt like that smile. It wasnt... well meaning.
"Well..." You looked at the balcony and she followed your gaze, almost immediately coming to tears.
"Princess please-"
"I am right here. I will help you, I promise Isabelle! I wont let you fall."
-
After helping a trembling Isabelle climb into your room, you had finally made your way to the madrassa. You had covered your face with your chadar and sneaking inside was no feat.
Abbas jumped out of his seat the moment you entered.
"Y/n! I thought you forgot all about me- wait what happened to your hands?" He referred to the bandages.
"I had an accident while conducting an experiment." "What experiment? Can I be a part of it? Please please please-"
"Abbas." You silenced him. "Business first. Did you make the tools I asked you to?" He quickly ran to his desk and pulled them out from the drawer. You examined them. They werent the best but you could make do with them. You nodded before asking for a paper so that you could draw the last few bits you needed.
"I need these by the end of this week." Abbas chuckled. "Oh I thought you were joking. How do you expect me to build- whatever this is! in a week? No way. I would need to get all the material and-"
"Abbas. I need it this week. I dont care how, but you have to do it."
He looked at you suspiciously. "Maybe if you could just tell me what it is that you're making-"
"No. I cant. And you will make me this by the end of the week, if not earlier because I have a very good reward waiting for you."
Abbas rolled his eyes. "I dont need your money-"
"I will let you ask me anything you want. Any question on any topic you'd like." You knew Abbas's thirst for knowledge.
You saw the twinkle in his eyes. "I will still take the money." "Of course, but I'll pay you after you make me this." He sighed and agreed.
"Wait- check this please?" He handed you his journal that had some math equations. You huffed, grabbing his pen and working on the mistakes. "I'm doing this just so that you do my work." You gave him some other math problems you did in grade 8 and handed it back to him.
You turned to leave before pausing.
"Abbas?" He hummed. "I think... we should set some security measures." You whispered.
"Whatever for?"
"Just in case someone came looking for me or my work. You know you're not supposed to tell anyone about this."
"I couldnt even if I wanted to." He tilted his head. "Why would someone come looking for you? Are you in trouble?"
You shake your head. "No. But you're aware of how other... scholars are eager to steal ideas." He nodded, being a victim of such crime.
"What do you have in mind?"
-
Salauddin was informed when you had returned to the palace. Of course he knew the moment you left. This was his Egypt. Not a bird flies without his knowledge here.
He sent out a spy after you, both to keep you safe and to follow you around. He couldnt help but let out a huff when he was told of your daring climb out of the window. Didnt he tell you to stay in bed?
"This girl..." He grumbles.
The spy told him that you went inside the madrassa. Why? What business could you possibly have there?
Perhaps you're creating a poison? To kill Baldwin? No, there would be easier ways to get poison. You did tell him and Baldwin that you were going to Egypt to find your family, but he has a hard time believing that.
Just what were you upto?
He'll find out soon enough. This is his kingdom, he finds out things. And he'll find out your secret too.
He knocked on your door before entering. You were sitting on your bed, your face now covered with a niqaab and your hair with his white chadar. His clothes. He felt something warm in his heart at the thought.
"How are you now?" He asked, his hands clasped behind his back.
"I'm fine. Just bored waiting here all day." You sighed exasperatedly.
Such a liar.
"I apologise for not being able to entertain you. I was busy with the assassin." You looked at him in anticipation. "He didn't reveal much but he did say that they were hired. I suppose that would bring us closer to your theory."
He watched your eyes narrow in thought. "It has to be Guy. He knew I was going to the desert to you first. He needed to get rid of me without anything to come back on him. Coward."
The door was knocked.
"I hope you dont mind- I had them bring dinner up here." Salauddin explained, letting the servants in. They set down a dastarkhawan in the balcony. A red table cloth was set on the ground, onto which many dishes were placed. You both sat down on cushions, the area was lit up with candles placed. You were busy admiring the view of the pyramids from your seat while Salauddin poured you some ginger kehwa.
"Here." You lifted your niqaab a bit to sip the hot tea, a sigh escaping your lips. Salauddin's lips quirked a bit but he, like you, kept his eyes focused on the pyramids.
You picked up the plate of dates from your side, knowing how fond he is of them. "Here." You mimicked his voice, making him smile as he grabbed a piece.
You both silently ate, admiring the view and enjoying each others presence.
Some time later, you were both done with dinner and just sat in silence. That is until Salauddin spoke.
"I'm sorry." You looked at him. "For letting you get hurt."
You exhaled, trailing your eyes back towards the night sky that was littered with gleaming stars.
"I know. But you shouldnt be, Salauddin. I'm not made of porcelain."
I know. I saw you jumping off the palace walls with the confidence of an assassin and the grace of a headless chicken.
"Still, you're under my care. I am responsible for you-"
"I free you of this burden." You're not a burden. "I am not that hurt and I am not scarred for life. If anything, all that incident made me question is just how far would man go?" Your eyes glazed over as you recalled the incident in the tent, where the assassin left you and the baby to burn to death. You could understand killing you, but a baby? He was willing to let a baby burn?
"It makes me believe just how barbaric people were to the Ahl al-Bayt (family of Prophet Muhammad PBUH). How easy it was for them to slaughter his lineage, how easy it was for them to keep water from them, how their hearts did not halt for a moment when they heard the cries of Ali Asghar- who they killed with an arrow in the neck." Your eyes glistened. "A baby. He was just a baby. How would've his father felt in that moment, holding his dead son in his arms, knowing he had to bring him home to his wife?" The battle of Karbala was one of the most heart wrenching tragedies of Islam and whats worse is that Prophet Muhammad knew of it years before it happened. He knew his own grandsons will face martyrdom years before it actually happened, when they were just little children in his arms.
"Man is cruel." Salauddin stated.
"But Allah made man. Why... would he allow man to be so cruel? Even animals are not this merciless." You wondered.
"Because man cannot see God." He says. "There are signs of His existence, signs for those who wish to be guided. Animals can see God. Angels can see God. Humans... Allah has made us with the ability to think, to choose. Man chooses to be cruel when he forgets that Allah is watching, that these things- the stones, the trees, everything around him? They're all living beings who will testify against man." He smiles. "But that is why the true believers also have a greater reward in the hereafter. What do you think of the reward, of what you'll get when you enter heaven? You dream of wealth, of food, of all luxuries. But there's a greater reward waiting for us. Do you know what that is?"
You gave a slight shake of your head.
"The true believers will see Allah. They will get to meet their Lord, their Creator, the One who saw them through it all, the One who knows their secrets and kept them hidden, the One continued to shower His blessings upon them even when they were not grateful." Those words... they comforted you. How peaceful it is to the heart to hear that your Creator waits for you. The One who has seen you shed tears and took care of you in this world will also take care of you in the next. And at the same time, this is such devastating news for the sinners too. Those who act selfishly, who forget who their Lord is, they will end up in hell and will never get the opportunity to see their Creator again, to ask of mercy from the most Merciful.
"Still..." You mumbled, wanting to find an excuse for such wickedness.
"It is not our place to ask why, Y/n. Allah does not owe us answers, explanations. He already has given us His book for guidance, his prophets for example. But know this- everything happens for a reason. Maybe the battle of Karbala was just to show us how quick man can turn on his own. Perhaps in the future, a time will come when people will kill many women and children, slaughter men so brutally while the entire world watches and yet... no one does anything. And then people will wonder- surely, man is not so evil. Surely, man wouldn't kill innocent children. Perhaps then they will remember history."
-
Salauddin woke up with a sigh. He had gone to sleep after he left your room last night, but he woke up from yet another dream he had of you. You. You. You. Since that night in the desert, he's been having constant dreams about you. Its either you dying at the hands of Baldwin or Guy, or its you asking him to help you. Tonight, he dreamt of you two celebrating Ramadan together, with you picking up the plate and offering him dates, however unlike dinner, you were sitting much closer to him in his dream, by his side. So close, he could see himself in your eyes.
Salauddin wasnt vain enough to admit it to himself- he had feelings for you. But what were they?
Lust? Not really, he's seen far prettier women than you. Beauty... is subjective and Salauddin is a firm believer in "beauty is in the eye of the beholder".
Admiration? No. He admires your intelligence and your wit but Salauddin also has those qualities.
Infatuation? Sure he does think about you often during the day but not enough to call it obsession.
No, its love. It has to be. His heart doesnt know what exactly it is about you that draws him in. His mind doesnt comprehend why he feels like you belong with him but his soul, every fibre of his being screams that you do.
Allah has created someone for someone. He created Eve for Adam, He creates a woman from the rib of the man.
Salauddin touches the side of his chest, just above his abdomen.
Perhaps you're his missing rib.
You were smart, you were daring, you were also stupid enough to put yourself in harms way but it was... endearing. More importantly, you were the only person who could bicker with him, stand your ground against him and get away with it too.
He sat down on a chair, looking out at the pyramids. Like the man he's named after (Prophet Yusuf/Joseph), Salauddin believes in dreams having meaning. Perhaps its a way for God to talk to you, to warn you or guide you.
And from all his dreams about you, he's come to interpret it that he must save you from Baldwin... and everyone else. And he can save you- he can save you without you having to go through the trouble to be plotting against Baldwin and endangering yourself by working with Guy.
He could marry you.
If you were to marry Salauddin, you would become the queen of Egypt and the wife of the strongest Muslim leader of the time. Not only that but the entire ummah, Muslims around the world will come together as one to fight against Baldwin, against anyone who dares to harm you. You would be safe, you would be secure by his side as his wife.
But the plan is easier said than done.
Baldwin wouldnt backdown so easily. He would wreak havoc and if he's as obsessed with you as Salauddin has seen him, then he wouldnt stop at nothing to get you back. Baldwin will have to be dead for you to be safe from him.
Besides Baldwin, you yourself also are a hurdle. You havent shown any interest in him (which is understandable because you're engaged) but he doubts you're interested in marrying anyone at all. You're not one to be affected his wealth or status, you dont go for materialistic things. He's sure if he were to ask your hand, you would laugh hysterically and then maybe try mocking him. And Salauddin does not want to force you to marry him. He wants you to want him.
There is a way he could convince you. All he has to do is make himself look better than any man, especially Baldwin because you do seem to have a soft spot for him despite trying to sabotage him.
A sinister idea comes to mind.
What if Baldwin breaks up with you?
If Baldwin, for any reason, decides not to marry you then not only will you be free from him but a war will be avoided.
All Salauddin has to do is give Baldwin a reason to break up with you. He could send some concubines to him, but he doubts Baldwin would use them. And even if he did, it isnt reason enough for him to call off things with you. No, the only way Baldwin would break up with you is... if you're unfaithful to him. You dont need to cheat, dont need to sleep with any man. No, you dont have to do anything at all. All he has to do is make sure you're in the right place at the right time and Baldwin's there too, just enough to create doubt in his mind. And the ball will roll from there. Baldwin will continue to second guess your loyalty to him until he's driven himself insane. Then he'd leave you without ever punishing you for a crime he thinks you committed but has no proof of. Thats when Salauddin will swoop in as your knight in shining armour and you'll see that all men but him are shit and you'll say yes to his proposal-
No.
He sighed, rubbing his temples. Despite it being a perfect plan, the safest plan- Salauddin cant bare to stain your character. He cannot spread a rumor about you being unfaithful. He cannot have anyone talk badly of you, even if it will end up with you in his arms. You're important to him. And if you ever figure out that Salauddin was the one behind it all, you'd never forgive him. You would never trust him.
The thought of you not trusting him, just like you dont trust him enough to tell him why you sneaked out of the palace, it hurts him. He doesnt know why but he wants you to trust him- trust him enough that you come to him with your problems and have faith that he will solve them for you. He will keep you safe. He will protect you.
He will have to find another way.
Salauddin offered the morning prayer before reciting the Quran, asking Allah for guidance for his problems and good health for you.
He walked out of his room and turned to the corridor where your room was, only to find you sneaking out of the room with Isabelle. You were still wearing his white chaddar, and it engulfed your small body like a blanket as you hurriedly walked down-
You tripped on the bottom of the long chaddar and fell face first.
"Princess!" Isabelle cried out as she helped you up, but you quickly dusted yourself off and continued talking her ear off as if nothing had happened, the tail of the chaddar trailing behind you as Isabelle walked beside you to keep up with what you were saying.
"Idiot..." He whispered to himself, though he was smiling. He called a servant and ordered him to bring the finest chaddars and niqaabs for you. He cant have you tripping all over the place because you wear his chaddar that was too big for you, despite how adorable you looked in it.
-
You knocked on his door.
"Salauddin, I was going to the market-"
"And you came to ask for permission? Okay, granted." He waved you off with a smirk.
You rolled your eyes. "Where do you get the audacity- nevermind. I came to ask if you'd lend me a few gold coins? I need to buy some things, souvenirs if you will." You had lost your coin purse in the desert and you need to pay Abbas.
He raised a brow. "What do you need? I can have it brought to you here."
You pursed your lips. Why is he being difficult? "I dont know what I need until I look. Just give me some money, I promise to pay you back as soon as I can."
He stood up, walking upto you but you neither backed away nor moved your eyes from him. "Its not about the money." He pulled out a pouch and dropped it in your hands. "I worry for your safety. Who knows how many others Guy has hired to kill you? I'm coming along."
"Aww, you're worried about me? That's so sweet-"
"I wouldnt want my image to tarnish because a guest died in my care." Your smile dropped as you grumbled something under your breath.
"Whatever. I still dont need you to tag along-"
"Good thing about being the sultan is that I dont need anyone's permission." He cut you off before walking past you. You stomped after him. "Salauddin, dont you have work-"
"You can either come with me or stay in your room for the rest of your stay here." He stated.
-
"What?" He heard you snicker beside him. Your eyes twinkled with amusement. "Oh, its just these rags suit you a lot." Salauddin and his guards had worn disguises to blend in with the commoners. He didnt want to draw attention to you two.
He rolled his eyes. "I have to blend in for your safety-" "I have never looked more in danger than I do right now. Look around and see people staring at a lady dressed so modestly is surrounded by brooding men wearing rags." You giggled as Salauddin looked around to see some people were indeed looking your way.
You stopped at a small stall that was selling some jewellery. You were looking at some rings, trying to choose something for Sibylla. The shopkeeper, an old man must've seen Salauddin standing over your shoulder looking around for any suspicious men.
"Son, why dont you help your wife pick something? Focus on her!" The shopkeeper said, catching you both off guard. You looked at Salauddin and laughed at his surprised face. Continuing to pull his leg, you stared up at him and batted your lashes. "Well, husband? What do you think would suit me?" You asked raising two different earrings to your face. One had a ruby in it, the other had sapphire.
He looked at you for a moment.
"Neither."
Your smile underneath your veil vanished, and you placed the earrings back on the table.
"The blue opal ones." He nodded his head as the shopkeeper handed him the tear drop gold earrings that had the precious stones fixed in it. He brought the earrings near your face, never touching it as his eyes assessed his pick.
"They bring out your eyes." He said before paying the old man and giving them to you, all while you were looking at him in awe.
"Wait! Why did you pay? I had the money." You two had begun walking again. "You mean the money I gave you?" You frowned. "I'm gonna pay you back." He smiled. "You dont need to. I have enough. As for the earrings... consider them a gift."
"Gift?"
He hummed, his chest puffed up. "Part of the hospitality of the sultan."
You glared at him before smiling. "Thanks." You two continued to walk around the market, Salauddin gave alms to the poor he encountered. You were standing at another stall, watching in fascination as the man ground up the black powder and mixed it with oils to make kohl. He filled it up in a beautiful vessel before asking if you'd like to try it.
"Oh, I dont know how to." Especially not without a mirror, which the man didnt have. But he was persistent to sell his product and when he looked at Salauddin's kohl lined eyes, he offered it to him.
"Would you apply it on your wife?" This time, Salauddin didnt react like he did the earlier when he was associated with you. He took the wooden stick dipped in the kohl and looked at you for permission.
You gave a nod. He walked upto you, gently cupping your veil covered face. You thanked God for the niqaab, or else he would've seen how violently you were blushing.
"Chin up." He whispered before tilting your chin up. Your eyes shifted as they stared into his brown ones. "Open wide." He ordered, even though your eyes were already saucer shaped from the close proximity.
He began tracing the soft edge of the stick along the waterline of your right eye. He seemed to have noticed that you were holding your breath. "Relax." He softly commanded, patting your cheek with his thumb. That broke you out of your trance as you narrowed your eyes at him.
"Dont tell me what to do." You grumbled. "Open wide." He ordered again bringing the stick up to your left eye for a second coat. You hated the way he commanded you, hated that he seemed to be having his fun with this.
"Dont order-"
"If you dont listen to me, I will marry you today." Your eyes blew wide open in shock.
"What-?!"
"Hush." He smiled placing kohl on your now wide eyes. "Whats wrong? You seemed to enjoy playing my wife but when I joke to marry you, you dont like it."
He's... joking?
Without realising, you blinked causing the still wet kohl to spread in your eyes. Salauddin had pulled the stick back just in time to not poke your eye out.
You hissed in pain, raising your hand to rub your eyes but Salauddin caught your wrist pushing it down.
"Open your eyes, Y/n. Look at me. I said- look at me." You opened your eyes to stare at him, your vision blurry from the mixture of tears and kohl.
Salauddin grabbed his handkerchief and began to dab the excess away as he tutted at you to stay still. Once he was done wiping the excess away, he blew cold air on your irritated eyes gently.
"I swear... if you dont sit still, I really will marry you today." He threatened you as he watched your red eyes glare at him. He didnt like that you were in pain, even if your own stupidity was the cause of it. This time when he applied kohl, you didnt dare to move an inch.
Fortunately, he worked faster this time around.
He gave a nod of approval when he was done. You dont know whether it was because he liked how your eyes looked now or if he was admiring his own work.
Salauddin handed the man money before taking a few bottles of kohl.
For the next hour, you two walked around in silence mostly. The image of your kohl lined eyes occupied his mind, not only because of how beautiful they were but also all the emotions that switched in a matter of seconds. You could try and hide your feelings all you want but your eyes tell. The eyes... they're the window to one's soul.
He saw attraction, anger, mesmerisation, disgust and pain in your eyes. Or maybe he's overthinking this. Maybe it was all just momentary and you really do hate the idea of being married to him.
You were both standing at yet another shop, this one was selling dates. Salauddin walked inside the shop a little more to inspect the quality of the dates, expecting you to be following behind him but when he turned around, you were gone. He walked outside the shop, hoping to find you there but it seemed like you had vanished. Even his guards hadnt seen you.
And then, as Salauddin whipped his head around, he saw the silloutte of your chadar disappearing around the corner. He ran after you, hoping to not lose you in the crowd but as soon as he turned around the corner, he couldnt spot you anywhere. He ran down the street, looking left and right but you werent there.
Where are you, Y/n?
He began walking back towards the main street when in the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of a familiar chadar. He turned his head to the right and there you were, standing with your back to him under the shadow of the large canopy of the shop talking to some man.
He walked up behind you, the man you were talking to seeing him first.
"Y/n." He snapped. You turned startled before your shoulders relaxed at the sight of him. "Oh, its just you. Did you buy the dates?"
Dates? You're asking him about dates after you just made his heart stop for a few minutes?
"Why did you leave me?" Ya Allah, that came out way more desperate than he wanted it to.
"I was getting something from this man." He raised a brow, almost as if he didnt believe you. You sighed. "This is Abbas. I hired him to make some things for me?"
"Such as?" You narrowed your eyes at his accusatory tone before nodding at Abbas, who then pulled out a heaxagonal shaped board that looked somewhat similar to a-
"Its 3 people chess!" You exclaimed, bouncing on your feet as you handed it to Salauddin. "I designed it and had Abbas make it for you!"
"For me?" He asked, turning the board around as he tried to understand how it would work.
"Yeah. I wanted to thank you for saving my life. And for your hospitality. And for lending me money."
His eyes softened slightly. "You dont need to thank me, Y/n. Its... my duty. I'm responsible for you." You waved him off. "Yeah yeah. Look, just take this and I'll teach you how to play so that one day you could play it with your wife and... kid? Or maybe with your wife and Baldwin? Or two wives-?"
"Y/n, I appreciate the gift but I would appreciate your silence more now." You pouted at his words but never the less, you both left to return to the palace, unaware of the eyes watching you two.
The mysterious figure wrote down what he'd seen before using messenger eagle to deliver the note to Jerusalem.
-
It had almost been a week in Egypt. You and Salauddin were having lunch together when a guard came to him and whispered something in his ear, the sultan frowning.
"Whats wrong?" You asked him.
He looked at you. "Baldwin... he's coming to Egypt."
"What? When?"
"He's crossed the desert. He should be getting here today, in a few hours." Salauddin was still frowning. Why is Baldwin coming to Egypt?
You shook your head. "Baldwin wouldnt ever leave Jerusalem, not unless..." Your eyes widened at the realisation.
"He's coming for a war." Salauddin confirmed.
Fuck.
Part 7 is here!
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