Three days.
The boat was leaving in three days and Ayyur was still so far from it,
Navigating through Grana was easy.
Ayyur would close her eyes to focus on the water flowing through the saqiyas, an operated watercourse that irrigated the gardens, the hammams, and the orchard where Ayyur always liked to steal fresh oranges. Was the water always this loud? The young woman thought as she pressed her face against the white veil she used as her haik. Her mother's.

The first time she arrived in Grana, freshly married to Walid Ibn Tariq, Ayyur's mother gasped in surprise as her eyes immediately pricked up to listen to the flowing water. Holding a small basket made out of palm leaves, Fadhma knelt with eyes filled with amusement.

"This is like.. Iffey." Fadhma whispered to herself, pressing her palm against the wall as her haik slipped from her face, a hint of sadness in her voice.

"But without the palm trees." Walid answered, his hand lowering to caress her hair. "You will love it."

Not daring to meet her hopeful husband's look, Fadhma simply pressed her hand harder. Since leaving her oasis, Fadhma's heart was being eaten by an atrocious feeling she had never had before. A squeezing so hard it made her stop breathing for a second, not knowing that this feeling would cause her death years later.

           Guilt maybe.

Guilt for leaving her tribe, her palm trees, her father to follow a man to the other side of the sea.

"It is the duty of a spouse,"

Fadhma's father, Ghanim had murmured as he pressed one kiss to her tattooed chin. His thumbs trembled as he softly wiped his daughter's tears, his grey eyes memorising the lines of her face. She was the spitting image of her mother. Soft but firm traits, the look of a leader, black hair so thick and so long, curling round her temples.

He was weeping, and yet the tears were not rolling down his wrinkled cheeks. A leader shouldn't cry he always said.

"Do not forget what you are, Fadhma. The daughter of a war leader, a beautiful intelligent woman and when you go there.. Chin up, you are a free woman."

Ghanim turned to Walid, who stood awkwardly between the palm trees, holding his travelling bag. The old man took a step then another before grabbing him by his headwrap.

"If you dare hurt my daughter, I will skin you alive and serve you with a drop of qlila."

"I'll do it way before you lay your hand on your weapon." Walid murmured before using the Ifey language, in a broken way. "Fadhma is my life."

Ayyur remembered how her mother used to tell her the tale of their arrival in Grana. Everything was brutally new for Fadhma except for the sound of the saqiyas.

"Ma's home is very far from the capital,"
Fadhma murmured to a very young Ayyur, her arm around her waist as they listened to the water flowing. "But it is the most beautiful land you could ever imagine.." Ayyur closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against her mother's chest.

"Bordered with palm trees, roads that lead you to the unknown caves filled with ogres and legends..." She caressed her daughter's hair. "You ought to know your roots, my sweet lamb."

"Can we visit Iffey one day, Ma'?" Ayyur nuzzled her small nose against the crook of her mother's neck.

"If Anzar allows it."

Bitterly, Ayyur shook her head at the memory, her hand putting back the haik slipping away from her thick hair. Fadhma died before Anzar could even hear her requests.

"One day," She murmured to herself. "You will allow it, Anzar." She murmured as one foot landed in a puddle. Her mother always said if you touched water and said his name, the king of rain would answer your requests.
Anzar never answered Ayyur's pleas to bring her mother back.

The city was bathing in a magnificent dark indigo, a color Ayyur would have loved to catch and put it into a beautiful caftan adorned with beautiful Grana embroidery. Brown flowers embroidered in intricate lines. She sighed softly as she kept descending the long stairs.

Ayyur was humming a comforting lullaby as she felt her heart beating harder than it should. She was anxious, terrified that someone who knew her father would find her outside at this hour. She wondered how her youngest sister managed to live with this terrifying sensation of getting caught, always leaving in the middle of night to go and meet her lover. Perhaps she enjoyed it. Ayyur hated nothing more than feeling terrible, the atrocious heat growing under her breasts, her stomach twisting and her hands trembling with fear.

The wind was blowing against her back, as if it were saying goodbye to her, urging her to leave more quickly. Her feet were determined to leave the flight of steps, wanting to join the main place. Ayyur's ankle twisted as she walked on a rock, a yelp of pain leaving her lips while her face found the ground first.

"What was that?" A firm voice was heard on her left, the door opening behind a man standing. The walls were all lit by candles.

"Let us go quickly." The eldest man groaned as he held one candle in his hand. "I don't wish to be recognised."

"None recognises the Sultan's face." The youngest rolled his eyes as he closed the door behind him. "It's not like you were a man fond of mixing with the people."

Ayyur's heart stopped beating, dashing to hide in a corner of the alley right next to the house they just left. Her hand moved to rest against her mouth, refusing to make a sound. The Sultan? In the Bayzin neighbourhood? No, it couldn't be..

"With what happened last time in the Ibenian court," The Sultan sighed, pressing his lips into a thin line. "You ought to be careful."

He turned slightly around, enough for Ayyur to see his face. The Sultan looked younger than the one her father used to serve. Brows thick with annoyance, eyes black with kohl, a beard long enough to braid. Wearing simple clothes so as not to attract attention, he looked tired. Tired of dealing with the repercussions of an old feud started by his ancestors.

"Do you think Lalla Layla is behind the murder?"

The Sultan scoffed. "A woman behind the murder of an Ibenian noble?" He put the candle on the young man's face. "Amir please.. She's a princess on top of that! No.. Must be someone else, one that wish to see blood spilling between the Granan and the Fazziyin."

"I see it as a plot from the Ibe kingdom." Amir's tone was flat, yawning of boredom. His face was veiled with a thick white cotton fabric, his hand lazily holding his koummya. "To destabilise us."

"Us?" The sultan smiled. "I thought your loyalty was reserved solely for gold and coins, Amir."

"My, who's paying me the most these days?" He leaned towards the sultan's face; "It is you, Sayyidi."
"Indeed," He laughed as they moved toward the stairs separating the houses. "I fear the day when you will find a master richer than me."

Amir stood in silence as Sultan Hakeem Ibn Walid murmured those words. Both knew the youngest was linked to the throne in a way none would understand. Amir had no master, no loyalty to anyone but he always answered to the sultan's requests.

"I cannot believe they tried to put it on Walid Ibn Tariq."

Ayyur's heart stopped functioning.
Blood ran through her body as her eyes widened, a drop of sweat falling on her lips, a shiver ran through her body. She must not have heard it well. They were probably talking about another one. It happened frequently. Two men having the same name, the qadi needed only to search for their ancestors to differentiate them.
This couldn't be her father. A murder? The urgent need to run back home, to warn her father about what she just heard.. She could simply leave another day! She had enough money to book another boat ticket! Ayyur could do it again, she could find the strength to run again! All she needed was to lift her legs and run back home.

"Emphasis on tried," The sultan blew on the candle, deciding that the moon was enough light for them. "Have you not once asked yourself why Walid Ibn Tariq has never taken the throne?" He walked up the stairs. "His love for his late was bigger than the urge to hold power."

Amir didn't know what this feeling was, but he believed Walid Ibn Tariq to be a wiser man than any fool who dared to seek power.

"I will need you to go to Malaqah. Go to that qayna's house. You said she's good with her information." He stopped three steps ahead of Amir. "I am off to meet Walid Ibn Tariq. He might be a ghost drowning in grief but he is still the vizier who never was."

Amir stood silent as he looked at the Sultan mounting the stairs with a vulnerability he always noticed in those who had too much power. Alone, with no one to fully trust.
A concept that no crowned man can truly believe. For treason lay in the hearts of a wife, a child, a mother and a brother.

While turning his back to go down the stairs, Amir stopped silently, his hand immediately moving to the koummya hanging on his waist. He noticed a white fabric on the ground and a hand yanking it back. Amir knew he wasn't crazy, he had noticed they weren't all alone through their small talk. Ayyur's haik was visible even for the blind.

"Little bird on the left," Amir wondered the Sultan hadn't noticed her before. "I advise you to leave before I–"
Amir wasn't even able to finish before Ayyur started running for her life. Not even looking back, hurtling down the stairs as she grabbed her bag as tight as she could. Her blghra almost slipping out. Baba I am so sorry. I am sorry.
Ayyur stopped in her tracks before turning to look up at the veiled man, her hands shaking with an intense thrill.

"Walid Ibn Tariq is no weak man." She said loud enough for the whole alley to hear. "And is certainly not a man who would reduce himself to murder." Ayyur added even louder. "He's the reason your master is still alive!"

Eyes widening in surprise, the young man started laughing in the cold alley, wondering who this madwoman was.

Ayyur, reckless, Ayyur
Whenever you are,
Be safe and come back to me,

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

chapter 2 is finally here!!!!!!!
ayyur and amir's first meeting !!!!!!
MORE OF AYYUR, A BIT OF AMIR HIHIHIHI AND EVEN LALLA LAYLA'S NAME BEING HERE!!!!!! as always please tell me what do you think of chapter 2!!!!!! this is a very weak chapter compared to the others but very important for the setting! We see a bit of Walid and Fadhma's love story which I can tell you is so beautiful. cannot wait for you all to discover them!

ayyur's glossary:

saqiyas: irrigation water system found in Figuig and other parts of Morocco and also in Al Andalus.

haik: traditional North African outer garment made out of a piece of cloth, hides the whole body. It can be found in Morocco and Algeria.

qlila: a traditional, sun-dried Figuigian cheese made by goat or camel milk. 

koummya: traditional curved, double edged dagger from Morocco.

sayyidi: "my lord" in Arabic.

qadi: Muslim judge who makes legal decisions.

qiyan(singular: qayna): historical social class of women, trained as entertainers existed in pre-modern Islamic world. flourished under the Ummayad Caliphate, Abbasid Caliphate and Al Andalus.