—"Faint hearts never won, fair lady."

She reached home through the same transport she'd used before, having told the old man to pick her up after a few hours. It'd been convenient when she'd spotted his animal grazing with him, stalking here and there in wait.

As soon as she stepped foot in the house, she was greeted with the sight of her cousin walking fast-paced around the room like an animal in captivity. The lights in the living room were low, the air charged with eeriness.

"Where were you?" Hamza inquired tersely, eating up the distance between them as if he'd been waiting for her to come back so he could fire his questions. He trailed behind her as she slipped off the boots, her toes red and chaffed. Socks bothered her, an irrational irritation. The cold floor was like a balm.

"Out and about. Nowhere in particular," She responded stiffly, not in the mood to go through his intensive interrogation and after everything Mikail had told her today...she'd rather not see any of their faces until she knew they had no hand in the atrocities.

She remembered each detail of her Uncle landing in trouble and her father rescuing him through his influential connections, top-notch lawyers, and the flexible law that bowed to well-moneyed people.

It'd been like that her whole childhood—like father like sons would not be an inappropriate statement.

She stepped into the house, intending to retire to her room. To dream, swoon, fawn, and giggle, to be happy. To bask in the delight of finding...him.

"You've been gone for six hours, Mahrosh," He gritted out from behind her, his displeasure obvious.

"And?" She stopped beside the dining table, popping a juicy red grape in her mouth.

"I'm asking, where were you?"

"Hamza, you're not my father. I do not owe you any explanations." She whirled around to put him in his place only to find him too close to her—much too close than was allowed, and much more than she'd ever permitted.

His gaze was like an animal that has his eyes set on the carcass a lion leaves as leftovers.

"You damn well do. As my future wife, you do. Were you with Mikail Durrani?" It burst from his mouth like flames.

She took a step back from him in unease. she didn't like the liberties Hamza was taking unwarranted. When his words penetrated the pane of overjoyed optimism, she reeled in shock.

"Future what? Have you lost your mind?" She voiced her outrage, her eyes blazing, and body poised to refute all such claims.

She belonged to another.

"Uncle will talk to you about this soon." He had the audacity to smirk like a sly fox.

"Yes, and I'll tell him a big fat NO, Hamza. Get that through your thick skull." Mahrosh lost her cool, flaring with vexation.

Where was everyone else?

"Is there a reason behind your refusal, Mahrosh?" The evilness in his orbs was disguised by the forced display of being understanding. Like he really just wanted to know what was wrong.

Yes, there is. You're far too old for me. She felt like retorting that poisoned arrow but she controlled herself, it was no use to get into an argument with Hamza. He would find a way to twist and turn everything into maliciousness.

Her eyes wandered around, trying to find her family and best friend once again but they were nowhere to be seen and after the exchange with Hamza, she wasn't going to ask him about it.

"I asked you something, Mahrosh."

"I'm not obliged to answer, Hamza. Leave me alone," She stressed, exhausted by the encounter. Her only encouragement was the memories of that afternoon.

They helped her wade through these murky waters.

But the conversation was so taxing she forgot about the blissful new beginnings she'd dreamed of after leaving Mikail's house.

A happily ever after.

She felt a vice-like grip on her forearm and twisted around to see Hamza looming above her, something sinister gleaming in his eyes. Mahrosh gulped down the fear, struggled to get out of his hold.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"What do I lack? Why would you refuse to marry me?" He demanded like it was his goddamn right to know when it clearly wasn't.

"Basic manners, for starters! Leave my arm right now!" She ground out in pure fury, unable to believe his gal.

The grip only tightened and he brought her closer, his pulsing heat revolting her and making nausea creep up her throat. "And what if I don't?" He sneered, jostling her, His teeth bared so he looked every inch the villain he'd always been.

Mahrosh looked left and right, trying to find something that she could possibly crack his head open with. This man had made her uncomfortable in her own home and now it was time she put a stop to his reign of terror.

Her hand crept up towards the candle that was placed on the dining table. Looking him straight in the eye, she defiantly smashed it on his head. The attack took him off guard, he howled in pain and backed off, cushioning his fall with the sofa.

She looked around wildly, looking for an escape route and as if heaven-sent, her eyes landed on the archery kit placed against the kitchen door. Her heart pounded in her ribcage as she grasped it off the floor, placing an arrow in the bow until it was strung tight, ready to launch.

Find your purpose.

You let others make a lot of decisions for you?

Steady and slow.

I got you.

Her hands shook. Her eyes feral, hair an unruly mess.

She was a vision.

Strong and powerful, she decided her own course.

"Come near me and I'll empty all these arrows into you." She vowed, her voice steady and sure. If he tried to harm her, his fate would suffer.

Her eyes took in her potential assailant. Some males had a fragile ego and Hamza suffered from that disease abominably. Even right now, he looked like a morally corrupt sleaze as he rubbed the red lump on his forehead, advancing towards her.

Her soul recognized her purpose, her wings were there to protect herself.

"Come on now, Mahrosh...do you even know how to use that thing?" He taunted, circling her in slow steps like a bloodthirsty hyena to a prey. Hide and seek until it can attack from behind.

Cowardice.

"Try me, Hamza. I dare you." She smirked, radiating power that was ethereal. At that moment, nothing could stop her except God, but it felt like He urged her on to fight for herself. To show that pig that he had no power over her.

And then Hamza did dare, he tried to wrest control by running forward, thinking she was a doe and she could be slain. His ego cheered him on.

But she was the fire that could not be doused.

The night howled, the birds rustled in their nests, and in the middle of that house she shot an arrow into a man who thought it was okay to try and overpower a woman.

To touch her without her permission.

To ridicule her.

To make decisions for her.

To hurt her.

This time, Hamza fell for good, clutching his left thigh that spilled crimson on the wooden floor. The arrow stuck in his leg serving as a reminder of his misdeeds.

She expected it to nag at her conscience but it didn't. She'd defended herself, the damsel had rid herself of her distress and she was immensely proud of it. The bow hung slack in her hands as she watched the blood ooze, dampening his clothes.

His eyes had been so evil. Shivers wracked her body, thinking about his hands on her and if he'd been successful with his plans—she felt like throwing up, dreading ever going through something like that again.

Noises—noises registered in her mind and a moment later the doors were slammed open. Her father, Samar, Daniya, Haris, the police and...

Mikail.

They propelled into the house with faces that flashed panic, eyes wide with fright as they took in the scene before them. Mahrosh looked like she'd run miles, disoriented and disheveled; Hamza kneeling before her in a pool of his own blood, an arrow lodged in his thigh...narrowly missing a very, err, sensitive place.

Burly officers took purposeful strides towards the man on the ground, their eyes and lips speaking volumes, their distaste evident.

"Hamza Khan, you're under arrest for property fraud, swindling people with elaborate promotional schemes and disappearing without making any payments of land that was already underbought." The Sheriff/Inspector or whoever the official ranking guy was,e did not feel any pity for Hamza's state. instead, he eagerly clapped the handcuffs on his wheezing form.

Dad was innocent.

Her family in the meanwhile was subdued by officers so they wouldn't mess up what could possibly be a crime scene. She tore her eyes away from them and breathing deeply, she spoke.

Lucidly.

"Sir, can you charge him on the basis of sexual harassment?" Mahrosh addressed the officer who was finally able to give her attention having been done with briefing his team.

"Of course, you'll just have to come into the office for official work." His eyes were respectful and full of admiration. He motioned a lady officer to come to her aid but Mahrosh held her hand up, indicating she was fine.

That's three extra years in prison for sexual harassment in Pakistan.

Hamza was led away, barking clarifications to her dad but no one heard him. Not even his own brother.
Property fraud might not have been an egregious sin for some but trying to violate a woman surely was.

Rain, leather, and spice engulfed her from close by and she tilted her head up to look at him. A look of pride embraced his features, his face still a little pale.

She'd made him proud.

"I was supposed...to hit him in the calf." She breathed out in bursts, unable to believe in her own self-enlightenment. Dazed by the fact that she was enough for herself.

His shoulders quaked as if suppressing a chuckle. Humour shimmered in his eyes for the first time in their small acquaintance-ship. Would he laugh?

"You missed." He affirmed, not sorry at all. His stare raking her possessively, accessing possible injuries.

If it was up to him, his eyes would never waver from her.

When he'd burst into the room only planning on stealing a glance of his woman, he'd never expected to see the deity that stood in the aftermath of her glory. Wild hair, bandana askew, holding a bow and arrow of all things.

Haris had found proof against Hamza and they'd met Imad Khan on their way to the house with the police, he'd gotten a chance at a confrontation with the older man which had revealed so many things. His obliviousness to begin with. Then Haris had divulged the little spat he had with Hamza where he claimed to be Mahrosh's fiance; that had waved red flags and they'd rushed to the house.

If he hadn't been restrained by the law, Hamza would have been a dead man.

Mikail's arrow never missed.

"I need lots of practice, and you're a bad teacher," She delivered, as though stating a fact, sniffing suspiciously. Her lips threatened to break out in a full-blown grin. She still looked dazed. About to shed crazy, happy tears.

And just like that, the boy she'd played within the forest was back. Warmth restored eyes that had been dead for too long, The sea of darkness in them sparkling with the dawn's awakening.

He's back...and he's mine.

"I think we'll need to practice for the rest of our life." Mikail declared seriously as if the matter was of urgent importance and needed immediate seeing to but the mirth that danced in his eyes gave him away.

Mahrosh laughed. And so did he. Then their eavesdropping family. The moon, the stars, the forest, the animals...everyone rejoiced. The gaping holes of the past filled with concrete flowers.

They'd both surely improve their teacher and student skills over the course of a lifetime.

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People take many of God's blessings for granted, they forget that karma exists and they forego the notion of justice. When they do something bad to one of His living beings; it's sure to come right back around to bite them in their ego and greed.

His Nature lives and it breathes and it carries the burden of the world on its shoulders; for it to be polluted is a sin, a crime worthy of a befitting punishment.

And lastly: never believe that you're a semi-precious stone, you're a rare gem.

Mahrosh pondered on all of that, realizing how much she'd learned about God, Nature, and His people in these past few weeks. Her life had curved and swirled like a Unalome symbol, strengthening her spirit and resolve to be even more kind. But that was what she'd believed in before; she realized now that fate's reigns were handled by Him only.

Watching Hamza being sent to prison was satisfying. Truly.

Seeing the resort being demolished to construct schools and shops in its stead was even more pleasing. Deeply.

Looking at the villagers walking on their land with pride shining in their eyes warmed her heart. Immensely.

Her dad realizing how he'd been made a fool for so long then vowing to rectify his mistakes restored her faith in humanity. Magnanimously.

But it was marrying her childhood sweetheart, aka her archery tutor, under the wisterias that grew like fragile vines, which made her heart burst with euphoria, the elation of her spirit became unmatched and no one could diminish the blissful smile on her face. That was ecstasy.

The bride became the envy of every Wisteria that grew in Raiya.

He'd taught her the meaning of rapture by taking her in his arms.

Being with him was Meraki.

And they'd blossom in the influence of the Earth.

She let the breeze fly her hair that was bathed with mist in the wind; a cup of caramel hot chocolate in her hands, she leaned against the new fence (this one had no spaces in it) enjoying the dayspring's beauty. She blushed, grazing her finger across the wood, he'd made good on his promise after all. No kids would be able to crawl beyond this barrier.

"I meant it for...the guest's kids. Haris, Daniya, and maybe Samar's someday."

"I'm not building damn fences for anyone's kids but my own."

It was morning, the magic sank in their little home.

He sneaked up behind her a few moments later, curving an arm around her shoulders, she breathed him in, he drank her as if he parched. She felt his heat, he felt her smile—right through his heart. Home.

"I feel like I'm surrounded by magic like I'm in a different realm." Thousands of fireflies fluttered around them, their luminosity, breathtaking.

And he thought: If I could I'd conjure the kingdom of your dreams for you.

"I hijacked your bed last night." She pouted, her bottom lip stuck out like a petulant child's, her apology not genuine in the least.

He chuckled softly, she felt his chest rumbling on her back, his eyes crinkled, the dimple in his chin prominent. His hands drifted down to her waist and he rested his chin on her shoulder, she could feel his scruff scrape her cheek this way and she didn't mind one whit. She was thoroughly deluged with him: his scent, his heat, and his whole presence.

They were immersed in each other. Becoming one.

She remembered his husky words then, and a frisson raked her spine. He'd been so gentle, so kind and she'd felt so treasured. He'd touched her so reverently, as if afraid she'd break in his hands.

"My hands are too coarse, too calloused for your softness."

The wisterias were indeed jealous. they'd had him all to themselves for far too long.

I'd rather be touched by your hands for the rest of my life than ever lay my cheek on something soft again. She'd told him the truth straight from the depths of her heart.

The night, the sky, and the stars had many tales to tell. too many people in love, secret rendezvous, and breathless nights that were woven with magic. but that day, midnight shadowed the cabin in the woods, protecting their love. The tender whisperings drowned in the lake. Their secrets were forever safe.

"That's alright. I'm prone to a little Stockholm Syndrome here and there." He told her in the same husky voice she was coming to love, nuzzling her cheek in fondness and affection. Like she was the most precious thing he had.

They gazed into the forest, the under-construction roads, and the multitude who flourished and prospered on the lands of Raiya. Thinking about the hardships around every corner ready to jump out; knowing they'd face every foe head-on. They had what not many people did...the power of love, unity, mutual admiration, and respect.

She knew her husband would always fight against injustice, he'd brave the fire to do what was right. He was undaunted and fearless. She knew him. And she'd support him. Each time.

He'd never imagined a beauty beyond Raiya's but right now looking at her...he knew he'd been wrong, she was also the creation of the same power and He'd shaped her in a way where she blessed His Earth.

He'd made her for him.

To cast a spell that would bound him to her for ever after.

No cure, no reversion.

The Cupid's Bow struck the Arrow of Love right in the red peg.

"Your people." There was adoration, peace, and serenity in her voice. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling the musky scent of the soil and the essence of their love.

People he'd fought for.

"Our people." He pressed his soft lips to her forehead, gathering her close as if to protect her, hiding her within him where no one would reach her.

Their people, who they'd always protect.

And of course, they lived happily ever after—I mean they must have—with a love like theirs, it's the only option.

T H E E N D

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Thank you so much for reading @zeynepshah 's take on a sexy Disney classic (Have you checked out the live action version?)

Next story comes out on 17.09.2020