The ninety-ninth consort to the hundredth Shah of Persia had died, and no one was shocked. Death had become a routine.

It was only the sky that broke into mourning like it had lost another child. It rained heavily, akin to the tears of a thousand gods crying at the departure of the little naive souls sacrificed to the smothering fate of the Shah.

Shahrazad stared at Mah, the deity who gave him life. He hugged the white muslin shawl closer to his body as the gelid breeze refused to let his heart thaw.

"Misfortune has again shrouded the royal family."

And he was trapped here like a caged bird.

The kingdom was in tears of anger and agony. The Shah, who was supposed to be the shadow of Ahura Mazda, had brought only deaths to the kingdom. Shahrazad recalled the chantings of the protests that ran in the kingdom- jinxed is he, who sits on the throne and veils the world in dark; jinxed is he, who upon inheriting his father's land only brings ruin to it. He heard those words almost everyday now while sitting in his balcony and watching a crowd swarm the roads, demanding justice from the gods above. He was there, knowing what was happening around, but he existed in secrecy. He thrived as a hidden rose.

And he knew he had done nothing about it.

Shahrazad saw the crescent Mah hide behind the dirty grey clouds, refusing to face his tear-soaked visage. It plunged him in the same darkness that the kingdom was now dwelling in.

"May the soul be guided to the world of Ahura Mazda."

Shahrazad wiped his tears and strengthened himself. It was the voice of his father Bagaos. "Damun must be so sad that his son hasn't been able to win hearts. This storm is him mourning. Oh Mitra, will peace never come?" Bagaos murmured. His aged wrinkled hands with skin still glowing like gold held onto the baluster, eyes peering across the raging clouds floating in the sky.

Bagaos had seen the present Shah first when he was a week old, in the protective lap of his pure mother, shining like a little star which had been plucked from the sky. Shahrazad didn't remember the first day he had met the baby Shah, though the memories seeped into his dreams everyday.

Delighting him. Haunting him.

"Of course, the throne belongs to him not just because he is the oldest child, but also because he deserves it. But now, I doubt."

And like Bagaos, a seed of uncertainty had been planted in many minds. People doubted if the eldest son of Great Damun was really blessed and a messiah. The one whom the world serenaded with the title of greatness had given birth to a legacy of quietus.

"What do you think, Baba? Should the Shah abdicate the throne?"

A smile played out on Bagaos' lips upon hearing the voice which had his life brimming in the celebration of unexpected fatherhood.

"He can do that only if he finds someone more capable than him," Bagaos answered.

Shahrazad stood beside him, admiring the storm unlike his father, who looked at it more like an omen. "In such a time of distress it is not easy for even the wisest man to take a decision. I wonder if the Shah will be able to do the right."

Shahrazad knew the world had conspired against them. And still, till now, he could do nothing, just sit idly and watch the darkness unfold.

"I agree. Had I been still working, I could have helped him. But..."

Bagaos heaved a sigh. His son held his palms and gently rubbed them. He helped his father sit on a chair and knelt at his feet.

"The Shah is also like my child. I had seen him grow from a tiny little baby to a man of values. I feel guilty that I cannot do anything for him." He took a pause, pondering on his decisions. "Is it wrong that I fear for my life?"

"From whatever the rumours say about the Shah, the general public ought to fear him."

"I fear for Dunyazad too. She is young."

Shahrazad traced the lines of fate on his own palm. "Do you fear for me, Baba?"

Bagaos smiled. "I do, but I dare not accept it."

He kissed his father's palm and touched it to his forehead. "I will be a good son. I shall make you proud."

"Do whatever you want my child, but do not go where I once belonged."

Pain flickered in Bagaos' eyes. He shut them, pushing back the tears. Recollections of the past flooded his mind.

"It was Damun who had given me you. It felt like both of us had found another joy. Do you remember the times when you played with the prince in the palace?"

Bagaos felt his son's grip on his palm strengthen. Shahrazad held him like he worried his father would fly away. A dreamy, distant memory swum in his gaze. For only now, his father's words hinted that he could go where he liked. Finally, has the time come? "I do, Baba. I remember everything as if it was yesterday."

"I wonder if he remembers you too. He probably doesn't. You see, I left the job when you were a tender ten and he was nine. Even if Damun and I were in contact, you two lost touch."

"The three of us, Baba. You forgot the other one."

"Oh, yes. He was also a nice boy," Bagaos added. "But those are the days of the past. Do not think of going back there. It seems like the palace is a battlefield at present."

Bagaos looked at the drizzling sky and shivered when the thunder roared, while his son sat quiet like a winter morning, contemplating the next move.

"Baba, I heard no nobleman wishes to marry off their sisters and daughters to the Shah anymore?"

"Why do you ask?"

His eyes twinkled. "I am merely curious."

"Yes, you are partially right. Some say that almost all the noble families have lost their youthful maidens, but I think it is more because of fear that they take a step back from uniting with the Shah. Had I been in their place, I would have reacted in the same way."

"But the Shah cannot be without a queen. Else it will destroy the clan."

"Destruction has already commenced, my son."

"Indeed, we are all in grave danger."

He got up from the feet of Bagaos and went near a table. There was a fan kept over it- his favourite companion that fan was. He swept it up and opened the magnificent beauty, waving it in front of his face.

"My birthday is around the corner, Baba."

Bagaos chuckled. "You don't need to use your magical powers on me to snatch a gift. I shall give you what you want anyways."

His eyes darkened as he studied his father. He had never dared to think this day would come when he would use his fan for escaping his home. He knew he was risking peace for some childish promises of days so long gone that it seemed like antiquity.

"Promise me, Baba, that you shall grant me what I want without any form of compromise."

There was a pinch of heaviness to his voice, akin to a leader demanding his rightful place in the world.

"I hope you aren't trying to run away from home?"

His son just grinned, swirling the fan in his hand. "I will never run away from you, Baba."

Bagaos trusted Shahrazad more than his life. He would never want something from him that would degrade the family name. However, an uncanny fear clutched the father's heart, drowning it in the shades of the grey clouds that howled from the azure.

"Tell me, what do you want, Shahrazad?"

Shahrazad walked up to the balcony and stared at the lightning-lit sky, closing his eyes to the rain drops pecking his handsome face.

He had waited more than a thousand nights, and he could only have enough patience to wait for one more day. He had made a promise and he remembered it very well. Even if the other one didn't care about the sanctity of the words pronounced, Shahrazad did, and he would fulfill his end of the deal.

He pressed a cool drop between his lips, making a daring wish.

"I, Shahrazad, desire to be the hundredth consort to the hundredth Shah of Persia."