The sound of running water made for a calming background as Badriyah sank further into the hot bath, the wear and tire of the journey washing away as two maids scrubbed her skin with olive oil soap while her hair was attended to with herbs and rose oil. 

Her mood had visibly improved as she was near beaming as she chattered enthusiastically with the maids who seemed a bit surprised by her energy though it endeared them enough to her while Moza, her pet owl, snoozed in her open cage which was set off to the side within view. 

"Tell me..." The young cat-eyed girl seemed slightly hesitant in her asking but decided to anyway, which made the two elder maids curious. "What is the second prince like?"

"The second prince?" The eldest woman who was around her thirties, echoed, somewhat taken aback by the random question which came out of nowhere in the midst of her nonstop humourous chatter about how she acquired her owl as a child. 

"Yes, what's he's like for example. His personality and such."

The younger maid; a Berber woman like the other and probable daughters of some of the north African mercenaries brought in by the Caliph to recover Qāsami authority from the rebellion that had occurred nearly twenty years prior; looked thoughtful for a moment. 

"Err–we don't really interact with him since he lives separate from the rest of the royal family, so we don't really know."

"We really don't see him often except when he's called to the palace," the elder maid added in herself. But...he seems quiet."

"So he's a misanthrope." Badriyah sank further into the water, letting it just reach her chin as it seemed the rumours were truth.

"Probably," They chuckled at that before the elder one sobered. "He does look like he can't be bothered to talk to anyone most of the time, though. Almost as if it annoys him."

"Unless its Dawood ben Hasdai, the son of the Jewish Physician to the Caliph." The younger suddenly remembered, clapping her hand once in good nature. "The two are rather good friends and he's the only person I ever saw the second prince talking to unannoyed."

"Well, the wedding's in another two days, so I suppose I'll be figuring out for myself what he's like." Badriyah hummed to herself, a nervous flip being felt in her stomach the more she thought about the person she'd presumably be spending the rest of her life with.

Though she wasn't naive enough to expect love in a political marriage, she was holding out hope that she'd be able to get along with him well enough, God willing. 

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Muhammad ibn Jazâyir stood in his own guest room, his tall sturdy frame leaning against the wall as he overlooked the grounds below, watching the steady gushing of the fountains underneath the quiet after-Ishāʾ night sky.

His face was in its never-changing stoic appearance, though if you knew him well enough you could detect the slight crease between his brows which showed he was in deep thought. 

A prayer mat was laid out on the ground next to him since he had just completed his Witr' prayer which he hadn't folded and put away yet, so caught up in his memories was he that his face seemed bothered even thinking about what happened all those years ago. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬

The night was far too dark to be normal, as not even the moon showed its light through the ominous heavy black clouds which rolled in, bringing loud thunder with it that deafened in its cracks. 

A ten-year-old Muhammad lay on his bed, not quite sleeping for some unknown reason as he tossed and turned, being unable to fall into a sleep. Sighing heavily, he ran his hand through his hair before he heard his door creaking open, making him sit up.

Poking his small head in from behind the door, his two younger twin brothers, Ahmad and Mustafa, who were both seven, had frightened looks on their faces which made him beckon them in and have them ran up and pounce on him.

"What's the matter with you two?" He asked as he rubbed the two boys' heads who shivered, still fearful of something that made them wake in the middle of the night. 

Muhammad was the type of elder brother whose mother's gushed over boastfully in that he took care of his siblings well and never ignored or bullied them around, making them quite attached to him. 

His question, however, didn't require answering as he heard a piercing scream that was felt in his bones coming from the halls outside along with the slamming of doors of pounding hurried footsteps. 

Throwing his covers off, he wrapped his own brothers in the sheets and patted their heads assuringly. "You both stay here until I come back, alright?" He ordered them to which they nodded their heads in sync obediently. 

Grabbing his sword which was kept underneath his bed in a case, which his father had gifted him when he had begun his practice, Muhammad held it in hand unsheathed as he left the room, closing the door behind him soundlessly. 

The stone halls had lanterns hanging from wall-mounted hooks, casting their golden light over the otherwise dim corridor as his own shadow danced along the wall as if accompanying him faithfully into the unknown. 

Hearing unknown male voices he pressed himself against the corner as a sickening loping sound was heard which made him shut his eyes tightly in knowing what had just happened then. 

Running silently in the other direction, his first thoughts were on his newborn baby sister. His father was strong so he wasn't too worried and his mother was sleeping in her room with him so they were fine. Badriyah, however, wasn't with them but her wetnurse. 

Opening the door to the nursery, his stomach dropped as he heard Badriyah's infant cries and the amount of blood on the floor―all coming from the unmoving body of his father who had his throat slit and was on his back on the floor, eyes open yet unseeing. 

Covering his mouth to prevent himself from throwing up, and with the footsteps getting closer, he carefully grabbed Badriyah, rocking her a few times to quieten her and ran out the door as fast as he could to get his brothers and mother to run.