Okay, okay, alright, okay. You can do this. You’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about here. Noooooothing at all.
Scheherazade paced the ornate tile floor of the Sultan’s private foyer. Their wedding had been small. It was quicker than she had expected, too. Then again, why would it be long? He married someone new every night and he was probably tired after working all day. She was surprised he had even remembered her name. Unexpectedly, his posture had almost been remorseful as the ceremony concluded.
Maybe he’s feeling guilty because his trusted Vizier just sacrificed his own daughter?
Scheherazade had trouble believing that any man so vile as the Sultan would have a conscience whatsoever. The Sultan had once been exalted. His loyalty and love for his wife was something every girl dreamed to one day find. In an instant, though, he had abandoned his love and loyalty and ordered her to be slaughtered like a common thief.
But why?? Only someone heartless could watch that and not react. What had gone so wrong?
He had aged well, other than the lines of malice and displeasure permanently marring his face. It was clear that he had spent many hours sparring in the sun with his warriors. His hair was now salt and pepper instead of the rich raven-black of his youth, but it suited him well.
As Scheherazade waited for the Sultan to come retrieve her for bed, she examined the intricate intarsia inlay around the ceiling. She twirled her long, chocolate brown hair around her fingers, relishing in the slight twinge of pain when she pulled too hard. The pain reminded her that this was real.
What had inspired a woman to throw away the loyalty of a man like the Sultan? Was there a falling out? Was he not good to her?
“Why would she leave him a shell of his former self?” Scheherazade murmured to herself. As she spun around observing her surroundings, she slammed into broad shoulders clothed in the finest robes of turquoise silk.
She lowered her head to see large slippers adorned in gems and sparkling gold thread. She slowly raised her eyes, examining the man whom she could only pray would not turn out to be the Sultan.
Her eyes reached his stern, sun-weathered face and his salt and pepper hair.
Of course, it’s the Sultan. Why would it be anyone other than the Sultan in his private quarters?
She gave what she prayed was an appealing smile. He frowned in return.
Going well already. Off to a good start.
“Do you always talk to yourself?” the Sultan huffed, moving around Scheherazade and sliding his hand to her lower back. He ushered her politely past the sitting area and into his bedroom. Scheherazade feigned deafness and opted out of responding.
Our bedroom, I suppose. If I survive this.
Scheherazade heaved a sigh and surveyed her new home. It certainly wasn’t her father’s townhouse. As her eyes flitted around nervously, they caught on a marvelous vanity which held a pair of lavender silk pajamas and matching slippers.
Those had better be for me. We’ll need another pair for Dina though. Maybe I’ll let her have lavender. I like turquoise better, anyways. Dina's coloring has always resembled Father where I took after Mother.
She began to cross the white fur rug to the vanity when the Sultan's large, calloused hand encompassed her wrist and brought her to an abrupt halt.
“What do you think you’re doing?” growled the Sultan, glowering angrily at her.
“Apparently not going to get those pajamas?” cringed Scheherazade, slowly turning back to face the Sultan.
“Not yet. Join me on the balcony for a nightcap,” commanded the Sultan, leading the way through the tall, black marble columns framed by sheer curtains of gold.
Scheherazade took her time, eyeing the opulent bedroom, and by time she had joined the Sultan on the balcony, he had poured drinks and seated himself on a large white leather couch. She sat opposite of him and turned to face him, tucking her legs under herself - attempting to find comfort in her new home.
How can I get Dina here to enact our plan?
She took a large sip of warm, mulled wine, trying to steady her nerves. She choked on the sweet spices. Holding the large, solid gold chalice with both hands, she shifted to lean against the large cushions behind her.
Silence reigned on the balcony. She normally would have been happy to sit in silence for hours enjoying a view as magnificent as this. This wasn't relaxation. This was business
“Majesty, since it is my last night, may I have the comfort of my younger sister? I would like very much for her to join us and keep me company in my final hours,” beseeched Scheherazade quietly, lifting her large brown eyes to meet the Sultan’s. She hoped that he felt some compassion toward her due to her father’s position. She searched his eyes and his face for some indication that he would react favorably.
The Sultan considered this request for so long that Scheherazade began to believe that she had not actually asked at all. Finally, still looking into her eyes, the Sultan moved closer and replied.
“No, it is just us now... But you could tell me a story,” whispered the Sultan. He drained his chalice and looked up at the stars, waiting for Scheherazade to begin.
Not what I had hoped for, but I may yet be able to play this to my advantage.
Scheherazade followed suit and drained her chalice, taking a deep breath before speaking.
“My Lord, there was once a merchant. He erred and found himself in the most unfortunate circumstance,” she began.
The Sultan finally tore his gaze away from the stars and fully focused on Scheherazade for the first time, finding himself lost in the lull of her voice as she continued her story.
Bibliography:
Arabian Nights' Entertainments by Andrew Lang and illustrated by H.J. Ford (1898)
Edit: Author's Note
My inspiration for this story arose from the other stories I read for this unit. Focusing on adaptations of Arabian Nights' Entertainments, Scheherazade was the daughter of the Sultan's executioner and Vizier. She came up with a plan involving her sister, that she would implore the Sultan to let her younger sister join them in bed on their last night alive. Her sister would ask Scheherazade to tell a story to capture the interest of the Sultan just before he began his day. This would enable Scheherazade to live until the following day to finish her story. She would go deeper and deeper into different stories told by different people, though, and she would carry on this way for quite some time. In the original, Dina, Scheherazade's younger sister, is allowed to join them and asks Scheherazade to tell a story. I opted out of including Dina. I think it's more dramatic this way. If I were to continue this story father, I think eventually I'd want the Sultan and Scheherazade to fall madly in love, and for that to happen it's imperative that they spend a little bit of alone time together. Scheherazade will be able to make this situation work without Dina because she is witty and smart and more than trying to save her own life, she is curious about the Sultan. You know what they say... Curiosity killed the cat... and satisfaction brought it back!
Honestly, I was just super interested in Scheherazade. She seems so dynamic! She's smart, she's cunning and I presume she would have been beautiful. If she's able to capture the attention of a murderous Sultan for multiple days, she must have redeeming qualities and she must be engaging and charismatic. It got me wondering if there would have been more to her character. I've found I really enjoy going totally away from the original story and making up what would've happened before the story starts. It would have been too easy to let her younger sister join her in my version, though. I wanted her to have to struggle a little bit more. She can take it.