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moon-ruled-rising · 4 years ago

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as the rain hides the stars | xvi

XVI: smiling for miles in pink dresses and high heels

read it on ao3 or Wattpad

I was reading slim Aarons and I got to thinking,

I thought.

Maybe I’d get less stressed if I was tested less like,

All of these debutantes.

Smiling for miles in pink dresses and high heels and white yachts

-Lana Del Rey, “hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have, but i have it”

Dany could hear the conversations happening in the other room and dreaded what awaited her there. She looked in the mirror again, hoping that she could find another thing to fix so she could delay her departure from the safe space. She went to tuck her hair behind her ear and noticed the shining rock decorating her finger.

The ladies would all be asking about it. Especially if they noticed that it was different than the one she’d been wearing. None of the ladies at court made an effort to get too close to Dany, keeping a safe distance from the foreigner in their midst, but they still saw things and whispered. If anyone asked, Dany would say it was being resized. That would slake their thirst for new rumors but it would start fresh ones too. Anything to keep them entertained she supposed.

In the mirror she could see the ivory dress bag containing her wedding gown. The whole thing had arrived from White Harbor with the designer that morning for a fitting. The wedding planner reached out to as many Westerosi designers as she could and they raced to send in their portfolios. After looking through them all, Dany selected a northern designer named Jeyne Poole who worked for a well-known fashion house in Norvos. Her submission was an unused design for an upcoming bridal collection.

Dany cast it aside at first, claiming it wasn’t her style, but when she looked at the sketch again she saw potential. She and Jeyne worked together to achieve what Dany now considered her dream dress. If she was only going to be married once she at least wanted the dress to be perfect.

Hanging next to the monstrous bag were two dress options for the engagement party. One of ivory tulle and the other of champagne chiffon. They were both modest lengths and clearly meant to invoke the word ‘bride’ without being too obvious. She chose the champagne dress as it was darker and featured a thick sash of lavender silk around the waist, then she swept her hair into a simple yet elegant knot at the nape of her neck.

Styling her hair on the go was a trick from princess training she found increasingly useful. All of her appointments were scheduled one after the other, she barely had time to breathe between them let alone manage the various costume changes. Dany preferred it that way. If she kept herself distracted she wouldn’t think about anything else but the task at hand.

She slid the last pin into place and glanced at the tiara sitting in its case, surrounded by red velvet. A simple band with a fringe of raised silver points glittering with little gems.The sparkling piece wasn’t hers, it was on loan from the Queen’s personal collection. Catelyn wore it to her engagement celebration and wedding and claimed she would be honored if Dany wore it too.

With a gentle hand, she grazed her fingertips over the uneven points before lifting the tiara from its cushioned nest. The fringe sparkled in the moody lighting of the room and Dany realized it was meant to represent icicles. Without any blue tinted stones, it looked more like dozens of little swords. It gave Dany a fierce look once placed atop her head and she was grateful for it. She needed strength now more than ever.

“Dany?”

Jon stood in the doorway, dressed in the semi-formal attire required of the official engagement party. She noticed his eyes flicker to the large dress bag.

“Is this the dress?”

“Yes,” she answered before turning back to adjust the tiara.

She watched, partly in horror, as Jon reached for the bag.

“You can’t look at it!” she whirled around and intercepted him.

“I didn’t know you were superstitious.”

“I’m not. I’d just rather not tempt fate.”And risk fucking things up more than i already have.

“Okay, I won’t look at it. Are you ready to go? I don’t think our guests will appreciate it much if the couple of the hour is late.”

She adjusted the high neck of her dress and fought the familiar urge to run. She promised herself no more running.

Accepting Jon’s arm, he escorted her to the neighboring room. They paused outside the heavy door as their names were announced. She tried not to tighten her grip on his arm when it hit her that there were no rules regarding PDA this time. And people were expecting the young love-birds to act like they actually liked each other. And while they had come to an understanding between each other, Dany wouldn’t label them as friends.

The ring caught her eye again. A small smile escaping her at the reminder of the unnecessary proposal. It was such a sweet thought, no ulterior motive and he didn’t make a big deal out of it. She doubted her deserving of a ring with so much sentimental value but she saw at once why Jon picked it. It was geometric and different, simple yet powerful.

Dany swallowed her stubbornness, it was time for her to step up to the plate. She slid her hand to plant it with Jon’s. She didn’t intertwine their fingers. There was no need to, it wasn’t that kind of gesture. There were no words between them, only smiles as the doors opened and the attendants politely applauded.

For an event on a joyous occasion, there was a bit of somberness to it. There were no real decorations but a banquet table of finger foods and several members of the waitstaff meandering around with trays of champagne. Dany wanted to grab one but she and Jon were ushered to the head of the room before she had a chance.

They would accept congratulations from a long line of courtiers, organized by precedent. There were the Dukes of large swatches of land and the Lords of castles and strongholds. Down to the smaller, ceremonial titles of Baronet and Earl and the knighted citizen who happened to be at court that day. Someone was announcing their official titles and names but Dany was already on autopilot. Sentiments like ‘thank you’ and ‘we’re so glad you could be here’ slipped past her lips with unconscious ease, her mind barely registering the actual words anyone was saying.

There was an art to it, she supposed, being able to shake hands and smile and be grateful while her mind was somewhere else. She’d employed the same trick half a million times at the required state functions and once or twice at college parties.

As the Duke and Duchess they were addressing took their leave, Jon’s posture grew tense. It was enough to make Dany shift back to manual.

“His Grace, Roose Bolton, Duke of The Weeping Water and Lord of the Dreadfort.”

A man with eyes as cold and unforgiving as winter itself stood before them. The pink shield shaped pin on his lapel glinted, showing off the red blood drops and the shape of man without skin. His gaze chilled Dany’s blood and she stepped closer to Jon.

“Your Highnesses, my congratulations on such an advantageous engagement.”

Despite the room buzzing with the sounds of smaller conversations, it seemed eerily quiet as Bolton spoke. His voice soft and lacking the boisterous quality the other courtiers possessed. It made his compliment sound more like a nasty piece of gossip he shouldn’t be spreading.

“And my best wishes on a long and happy marriage.”

From the tone of his voice, Dany knew he was praying for exactly the opposite. She reinforced her smile and wrapped her hand around Jon’s arm in what she hoped was perceived as a loving, possessive manner.

“Thank you for your kind words, your Grace, we are wishing for much the same.”

She looked up at Jon in affirmation. Breaking out of the odd state, he grinned at Dany with much the same false pretense as her hand on his arm. The Duke’s face remained in its unimpressed scowl as he left them to face the next people in line.

Dany had half the heart to ask if they could take a break but the assembly of attendants was so long there was no time. She took a deep breath and tried to shake it off. It was no different than the few occasions she’d had the displeasure of dealing with Cersei Lannister, whose mannerisms were as fake as her waistline. At least Dany wouldn’t have to deal with that woman on a regular basis anymore.

Once they’d made it through the long and impressive list of courtiers, she and Jon split up to meander through the room and socialize on a more personal level. Dany was about to raid the food table when she was tapped on the shoulder. Expecting it to be Catelyn about to scold her manners, she was surprised to find a lady of the court she hadn’t yet been introduced to.

She was taller than Dany even though she wasn’t in heels and wearing a simple wrap dress of forest green. The lady looked like she was meant to be gliding down the runway at a couture show instead of couped up at court.

“Your Highness, I wanted to compliment you on the engagement and your beautiful dress.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Dany was a little put off. None of the court ladies made an effort to befriend her and she wasn’t sure if the lady’s intention was good. Dany smiled anyway, if they kept talking she would figure it out.

“Princess Sansa was telling me about your charity in Essos and I got curious.”

“It’s not my charity really, it’s a non-profit that was willing to let me work with them.”

“And what do you do there?”

“Mostly photo ops but I love interacting with the children and I help make the food for the shelters. It drives my family insane because we’re not supposed to champion causes that concern real people.”

“That’s pointless. How are you supposed to help the people of your country if you’re not allowed to?”

“Exactly! Gods, I’m so glad there are more people with common sense here.”

“I’m Dacey Mormont.” she extended her long arm out to Dany.

“Nice to meet you, Dacey.”

“I’d love to introduce you to some of the other ladies. They’ll be nicer if I’m with you,” she promised.

Dany agreed and allowed herself to be led to a group of other ladies. She noticed Wynafryd Manderly among them. After she was introduced to the ladies, one of them blurted, “Can we see it?”

She knew what they meant but was still taken aback.

“Of course,” she stuttered out, offering her hand.

They gathered around and gaped at the stone, whispering about how it was Princess Lyanna’s and how pretty it was. Dany detected a little jealousy but that was to be expected. Any of them would kill to be a princess. Hell, they would commit war crimes to be queen and all Dany had to do was be born with the right name.

The ladies did seem too bothered by it though. They asked her questions about where she’d traveled and what schooling in Essos was like. They were vastly more interested in Dany, for when she tried to change the subject to one of them, it somehow came right back to her.

Dany felt bad that she’d assumed the Northern court was anything like the one she hailed from. These women were genuine as far as she could tell, asking her about her opinions on fashion and even current events.

As Dacey was telling Dany about Bear Island, she looked past Dany’s shoulder and smiled.

“Your Highness, I apologize for stealing your fiancée but she’s been so busy planning that damn wedding, me and the ladies haven’t had a chance to talk to her.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jon shrugged.

Dacey started talking to him about something but Dany was distracted by the feeling of a pair of eyes on her. It was Roose Bolton.

“What is his problem?” Dany blurted and immediately regretted it.

Dacey pursed her lips, “I’ll let you handle that one, your Highness.”

As Dany’s new friend slipped away, Jon followed her gaze.

“Bolton’s had a stick up his ass since I can’t remember when. I don’t think I have to explain why he’s not pleased about this whole ordeal.”

“He’s more than welcome to join the club,” Dany muttered and took a sip of her champagne.

Jon scoffed, “I hope you’re watching how much of that you drink.”

“I am. Why?”

“Something tells me you would be sharing some strong words with His Grace if you were drunk enough.”

She hummed in agreement, “More than words. First it was the condescending attitude and now he can’t keep his eyes to himself.”

“He’s just playing mind games, trying to get under your skin. Ignore it.”

Dany nodded and took another sip of champagne, finding comfort in the way the fizz felt on her tongue. She looked at the other members of court and noticed they all had sigil pins somewhere on their person.

“What is Duke Bolton’s sigil?”

“What?”

“His sigil pin had a man without skin, is that a metaphor?”

“Quite the opposite,” Jon began, “A long time ago, when the Boltons styled themselves the Red Kings, they practiced flaying. They used the skins as decoration in the Dreadfort and some accounts say they wore them as cloaks, but they don’t like to talk about that part. It’s illegal now, of course, but they’re still mad about it.”

“They were kings once. Any man that had to give up that kind of power would carry a grudge so strong it became generational.”

Jon chuckled, “I suppose your right.”

The herald banged his staff and the volume in the room dropped, everyone turning to see who was late to the party. Dany couldn’t believe someone missed it but she was still unfamiliar with all the title holders at court.

“Her Majesty, Queen Elia of House Martell. Accompanied by Her Royal Highness, Crowned Princess Rhaenys II and His Highness, Grand Prince Aegon III of House Targaryen. And Miss Missandei of Naath.”

Dany’s heart swelled and she had to hand her glass to Jon so she wouldn’t drop it as the doors opened. She pushed through the crowd, forgetting that she was supposed to keep her princess composure. Dany felt a tear slip down her cheek as she threw her arms around her best friend.

“I thought you weren’t coming until the day of the wedding,” she gushed to Missy’s shoulder.

“I wasn’t supposed to but Galazza’s cashing in a favor you owe her.” Missy patted the press badge on the neckline of her dress.

Dany knew all too well what that meant so she promised Missandei they would talk later as she gave Elia a quick squeeze.

“Aunt Dany, you look so pretty!” Rhaenys gaped from beside Elia.

“Do I?” Dany carefully dabbed at her eyes to make sure they were dry.

“You always do,” agreed Aegon.

“Even when I look like this?”

Dany stuck her tongue out and crossed her eyes, her nephew bursting into giggles. Jon came up beside her and she quickly returned her face back to normal.

“Rhae, Aegon, I want to introduce you to Jon. He’s going to be your, uh, uncle,”

For some reason, the phrase felt strange leaving her mouth. Bringing him into the family meant adding another title to his already long list. Prince, future king, son, brother, soon-to-be husband and uncle, and somewhere down the line a father.

Gods, she hadn’t even thought about kids. She knew they were necessary and expected for the heir to a throne but hopefully it was far down the line for them. Dany didn’t even know if she was completely ready for kids. She wanted them of course, she’d known since a newborn Rhaenys was placed into her arms.

She remembered her sister-in-law’s nervousness about all the pressure to start having kids. Elia was twenty-two when she and Rhaegar were married and twenty-four when she had Rhaenys. So Dany wasn’t too far behind in the heir-making game but she couldn’t believe she would have to join it soon.

Rhaenys and Aegon were wary of Jon, Sansa was the only Stark they formally met and even then they were reserved, but once he got down on their level the two were as talkative as ever. If Jon and Dany had the same luck as Rhaegar and Elia, maybe kids wouldn’t be a challenge. She needed to take her mind off it’s current course so she turned her attention to Missy and Galazza’s favor.

“She heard you’re not letting the press cover the Northern wedding so in exchange for saving your ass a few weeks ago, she wants the rights to document the whole thing. It’s going to be the first story in her new publication The Green Grace. She’s branching out.”

“We already made a statement about barring the press from the ceremony. If I let Galazza in, I’ll have to let everyone in. And you know I don’t want that.”

“Galazza figured you’d say that and that’s why she sent me. We figured it would be easier if it was somebody already invited to the wedding.”

“You majored in Public Relations, why does she have you playing field journalist?”

“It’s just this one assignment. And all she needs are my notes and some photos so she can hand them off to her real writers. Although, she would love it if you would let a couple, more qualified, people in.”

Dany sighed, “I’ll talk to everyone tomorrow and see what I can do.”

#jonerys #jon snow x daenerys targaryen #jonerysfanfic #jonerys fanfiction #daenerys targaryen #jon snow #ao3 #ao3link #wattpad #wattpad link

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moonlitgleek · 6 years ago

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How do you feel about Alicent Hightower? I used to feel some sympathy towards her, mostly because she's smarter than both Rhaenyra and her son, but she lost me with her cruel treatment of Aegon III in F&B. (Though tbh for someone who asked for peace twice, it felt OOC to have her be so petty and vengeful later on, it seemed that GRRM wanted to sideline her and couldn't find a better way to do so than turning her into a Hysterical Woman).

My feelings towards Alicent are complicated. Certainly, I’m not prone to thinking that a person who constantly refers to Rhaenyra as a whore, wishes for her death in childbed and lets her own husband rot while she plans a takeover is a good person. However, I’m somewhat bothered by how she gets discussed in fandom because more often than not, it’s Alicent’s desire to see her son succeed to the throne despite Viserys’ expressed wishes to the contrary that gets singled out as something to condemn. I get that it’s the root of a lot of Alicent’s actions thereafter, but of all the crappy things she did or said, wanting her son to be king is a weird thing to hold against her imo considering that any lady in her position would have had the same expectation. Alicent was not an outlier in either expecting or advocating for a son to come before a daughter of the same generation. It really did not matter who Viserys married; his wife was always going to expect her trueborn son to inherit ahead of his sister, though of course the way she went about it might have differed. Viserys I set up a a rather knotty succession debate then did nothing to resolve or mitigate it so a conflict over the throne on his death was always going to happen irrespective of the identity of his wife. It might or might not have been as bloody as the Dance of the Dragons, but it was assuredly happening.

That said, I disagree with your assessment of Alicent’s treatment of Aegon III being OOC. Alicent was not remotely a kind or a peaceful person by nature. I’m generally iffy on how much credit to give her for her peace offers considering she only proposed the idea of a Great Council when she was defeated and in Rhaenyra’s control - where was that willingness when she had control of King’s Landing after Viserys’ death and Rhaenyra’s loyalists were being thrown in the black cells and/or killed? The thing to note about Alicent’s peace offers is that her motives were purely personal; she tried to broker peace after the tide started turning towards the blacks and her children were in terrible danger.

Words of these plans [to kill Daeron the Daring and his dragon] soon reached the ears of the Dowager Queen, filling her with terror. Fearing for her sons, Queen Alicent went to the Iron Throne upon her knees, to plead for peace. This time the Queen in Chains put forth the notion that the realm might be divided; Rhaenyra would keep King’s Landing and the crownlands, the North, the Vale of Arryn, all the lands watered by the Trident, and the isles. To Aegon II would go the stormlands, the westerlands, and the Reach, to be ruled from Oldtown.

Rhaenyra rejected her stepmother’s proposal with scorn. “Your sons might have had places of honor at my court if they had kept faith,” Her Grace declared, “but they sought to rob me of my birthright, and the blood of my sweet sons is on their hands.“Bastard blood, shed at war,” Alicent replied. “My son’s sons were innocent boys, cruelly murdered. How many more must die to slake your thirst for vengeance?”

Alicent’s twisted logic aside, peace for her was explicitly tied to the safety of her own children, all of whom were in perilous positions at this point as far as she knew. But not only did Alicent dismiss the loss of Jace and Luke as inconsequential due to their bastardy, she deliberately misconstrued Luke’s death because Luke didn’t die at warbut was cruelly murdered by Aemond, and completely ignored young Viserys’ presumed death.Rhaenyra naturally rejected Alicent’s peace because why should she be interested in sparing her brothers’ lives when her brothers killed her sons? But Rhaenyra’s rejection of Alicent’s offer meant that the two factions continued to clash, and two of Alicent’s sons were killed by Rhaenyra’s supporters whereas Helaena committed suicide after a depressive episode suffered as a result of Daemon’s “a son for a son” vengeance. Alicent’s pleas for her sons’ lives were rebuffed and she ended up losing two of them as the third suffered permanent injuries. In that context, I find it logical that Alicent would be as uninterested in any scenario that spared Rhaenyra’s Aegon as Rhaenyra was in one that spared Alicent’s sons. Too, it is very in-character for Alicent to pursue vengeance; don’t forget that she had previously demanded that the 5-year-old Lucerys’ eye be put out as a punishment for him taking out Aemond’s eye, so the willingness to maim children as a form of vengeance and a statement wasn’t new to Alicent. The bad blood that turned this war into a circle of vengeance and violence long preceded Viserys I’s death.

I’d also disagree that Alicent’s vengeance was an attempt from GRRM to sideline her, simply because Alicent was not sidelined at this point. For all intents and purposes, she acted as a regent in her sons’s absence. She was the main political authority in King’s Landing prior to Aegon II’s return from Dragonstone. It was Alicent who negotiated the reclaiming of the Red Keep during the Moon of Madness. It was her who proclaimed a curfew, had the City Watch reformed and had the three pretender kings arrested. It was her who betrothed Aegon II to Cassandra Baratheon and accepted Corlys Velaryon’s fealty on Aegon’s behalf.It was her machinations, along with Larys Strong, that prevented Alyn Velaryon from attacking Aegon II on Dragonstone and succeeded in bringing him back to King’s Landing. Even after Aegon’s return, Alicent remained a power player in his court and a constant presence in his councils.

With his half-sister slain and her only surviving son a captive at his own court, King Aegon II might reasonably have expected the remaining opposition to his rule to melt away…and mayhaps it might have done so if His Grace had heeded Lord Velaryon’s counsel and issued a general pardon for all those lords and knights who had espoused the queen’s cause. Alas, the king was not of a forgiving mind. Urged on by his mother, the Queen Dowager Alicent, Aegon II was determined to exact vengeance upon those who had betrayed and deposed him.

Though years would need to pass before Morning grew large enough to be ridden to war, the news of her birth nonetheless was of great concern to the green council. If the rebels could flaunt a dragon and the loyalists could not, Queen Alicent pointed out, smallfolk might see their foes as more legitimate. “I need a dragon,” Aegon II said when he was told

“Your Grace,” the Sea Snake said, when the rump of the once proud green council had assembled, “you must surrender. The city cannot endure another sack. Save your people and save yourself. If you abdicate in favor of Prince Aegon, he will allow you to take the black and live out your life with honor on the Wall.”

“Will he?” King Aegon said. Munkun tells us he sounded hopeful.

His mother entertained no such hope. “You fed his mother to your dragon,” she reminded her son. “The boy saw it all.”The king turned to her desperately. “What would you have me do?”

“You have hostages,” the Queen Dowager replied. “Cut off one of the boy’s ears and send it to Lord Tully. Warn them he will lose another part for every mile they advance.”

“Yes,” Aegon II said. “Good. It shall be done.”

Alicent was not sidelined at all. The one decision she took that Aegon went against was agreeing to the betrothal between Princess Jaehaera and Aegon the Younger, and that can’t really be described as him going against her wishes because Alicent was negotiating in bad faith with Corlys Velaryon and had no intention of allowing Aegon to actually wed Jaehaera. Aegon listened to her in all else.

Finally, I wouldn’t characterize desiring vengeance as a sign of a hysterical woman, especially not in the context of the Dance where Martin had previously contrasted the reaction of men and women to the loss of a child, doubling down on his pattern of broken mothers in having both Rhaenyra and Helaena fall into depression and retreat from court in the aftermath of Luke and Jaehaerys’ death at the same time that Daemon and Aegon II swore vengeance. Because men get to act while women get to break. If there is a problem in Alicent’s characterization here, I’d say it is in her ultimate fate being an imprisonment where she “spent more time weeping than reading or sewing. One day she ripped all her clothing into pieces” which may be understandable in the context of the story but is also a part of a consistent problematic pattern in the narrative.

#asoiaf #asoiaf meta #alicent hightower #aegon ii targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #viserys i targaryen #corlys velaryon #lucerys velaryon #jaehaera targaryen #aegon iii targaryen #helaena targaryen #fire and blood volume 1 #the dance of the dragons #Anon asks #ask box

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literarysencha · 4 years ago

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The Battle of Karbala

A Marthiyaa of Anis, translated into English verse by David Matthews, Rupa Co.

The sun had run his journey o'er the night;

Unveiled, the Dawn revealed her glorious face.

The King who rides the heavens saw her light

And called his brave companions to their place.

'The time has come at last; to God give praise;

Arise! In fitting prayer your voices raise.

Brave hearts! For strife and slaughter dawns this day;

Here the blood of Muhammad's race will flow.'

Zahra's darling, honoured, seeks the fray;

The night of parting fades 'neath union's glow.

'We are those for whom the angels weep;

To live this day we sacrificed our sleep.

This morning brings an evening ever blessed;

We who depart for Paradise will slake

Our thirst by Kawthar's spring, and there find rest.

May God exalt our names for honour's sake.'

Unequalled, each of them to joy gave birth.

'Let martyrs rise in glory from this earth.'

At this the faithful friends rose from their beds,

And donning glorious raiment combed their hair;

Then tying turbans on their noble heads,

They faced the peerless Lord and gathered there.

Wrapped in coloured cloaks, their fear grew less;

Rose perfume, musk and civet filled their dress.

Brave warriors dwarfing heaven with their height,

In battle Solomons, in Sheba lions;

The bravest fighters bowed before their might;

No pangs of hunger pained these stalwart scions.

For their great hearts the world was less than nought;

To the vastness of the sea they gave scant thought.

Their dry lips sang the praise of God; and light

Shone on their faces; fear was put aside.

No grief or panic clouded o'er their sight;

They joked and laughed and shared their skills with pride.

Their charming accents gladdened every ear;

Each word they uttered was a joy to hear.

Beyond compare the figures of their speeches;

Each point they made with rare magnificence.

Their rhetoric the art that knowledge teaches;

Their dry tongues shed the honey of eloquence.

Arabian poets marvelled at their art.

Lips like pistachios gently prized apart.

Laughing voices, faces like the rose,

Their bodies smelt as sweet as Joseph's cloak;

Devout, abstemious; their saintly pose

In Heaven's slaves would servitude provoke.

Such rubies are not found, such pearls are rare.

'They are angels', cried the Houris, 'born of air.'

There was no water for the heavenly crowd;

Before the prayers they washed in shining sand.

Their faces gleamed like sunrays through a cloud.

Sons of the Father of the Dust, this band

Became as radiant as the silver moon;

Their faces mirrors in a hazy noon.

The kinsmen of the King stepped from their tent,

Fatima's darlings all of beauteous face;

Qasim the fair and Akbar heaven-sent,

Aqil and Muslim, Ja'far's valiant race.

Their countenances lit the sky around.

The flower of eighteen suns stood on the ground.

That morning 'neath the shadow of the stars!

If Moses, who called God on Sinai,

Had seen their light that with the vision jars,

He would have swooned. Celestial majesty

Was echoed by the birds' song in the bowers

Of the desert valley filled with fragrant flowers.

That dancing brilliance wafted by the breeze!

The russet satin sky was put to shame.

Rosy dew-drops hung on swaying trees;

Diamonds were abashed and pearls found blame.

Each bush was crowned by glittering diadems;

The leaves of every tree wore precious gems.

How fine the art of the Creator's pen!

On every leaf embellishment was shown;

A skill beyond accomplished poets' ken,

Which to the simpler mind remained unknown.

All stood in awe of the Lord of Servants' craft;

Enamelled richness o'er the valley laughed.

The light, the fresh, cold desert and the sky!

The pheasant, quail and peacock made their call;

The sweet-voiced birds intoned their plaintive cry;

The morning breeze brought coolness to the soul.

Red petals clothed the trees and sought their arms

Then gathered in the- ditches round the palms.

The desert and the morning breeze that blew

Amid the branches swaying in the bowers,

Scattering on the blooms rare drops of dew;

One nightingale addressed a thousand flowers.

The primroses of Zahra's garden drank

The dew, collected on the rosy bank.

The ring-doves gathered round the cypress tall;

The pigeons cooed: 'The Lord alone holds sway!'

Then came the cry: 'Our God is blessed by all.'

The birds pursued their worship in their way.

Not only flowers sang their adulation;

The tongues of thorns gave praise in exultation.

Lifting up its hand, the ant cried out:

'Oh Cherisher of the weak, who rule our fate!'

'Eternal One! Almighty!', came the shout,

'There is one God, and He alone is great.'

The deer called in the woods, the birds in the air;

The jungle lions roared within their lair.

And here amid the thorns the Prophet's flowers

Imparted fragrance to the desert lands;

The house of Fatima faced its last hours

In the garden planted by Muhammad's hands

This garden cut down in those ten sad days,

By traitors wasted, cruelly set ablaze.

Ah God! The autumn and the flowers of spring!

Muhammad's sons could scarcely hold their breath.

Like bridegrooms they had dreamed of joy to sing;

But their red garlands were the blooms of death.

Awake all night, their eyes were drunk with sleep.

Their perfumed smiles caused closed bud's' hearts to leap.

The glory of that russet-coloured tent!

A fresh sky o'er the earth had been unfurled.

To the canopy no pole's support was lent;

This ancient house! Faith's pivot in the world.

For Allah's loved-ones dwelt beneath this sky

Like stars in the empyrean on high.

The desert land smiled mocking at the skies;

The seventh heaven thought it dwelt above.

Its curtains were the veils of beauties' eyes,

And heaven plucked its stars from it with love.

The morning thought the sun a wretched sight

When it compared it to that desert's light.

Then suddenly the dawn's white light came in;

To lead the prayer the King came from his throne.

All stood behind the Lord of Men and Jinn;

Ali Akbar called the prayer in Hasan's tone.

The eyes of everyone were filled with tears.

As if the Prophet's voice fell on their ears.

The birds fell silent; trees in ecstasy

Rocked to an' fro; their buds and fruit sang praise.

The towns and deserts joined in harmony,

And ocean-beasts emerged to hear their lays.

The darling of Shabbir to all lent weight;

O'er land and sea they cried: 'Our God is great!'

The women of the King wept hitter tears;

While Bano of renown stood silently,

Zainab repeated blessings with her prayers:

'My muezzin, I give thy life to thee!

They call in praise of God; oh, hear their joy!

As beautiful as Joseph is my boy.

He reads from the Quran; what majesty!

His grandsire once for speaking held the prize.

Ah, may his voice remain eternally!

The strains of David, who was called The Wise!

Those melodies like petals of a flower!

A nightingale chirps in the Prophet's bower.

Let someone take these blessings on my part;

May God protect him from the evil eye!

His eloquence would capture any heart,

Although for two long days his throat is dry.

In foreign lands misfortune strikes Husain.

Three days of hunger torment him with pain.'

'Make ready for your worship!', came the cry.

'The King of all Creation leaves his seat.

In ranks of light the Leader passes by;

Salvation's path bows down to touch his feet.

His radiance in the highest heaven will reign.'

The Quran became a prayer-mat for Husain.

The company's prayers were verses from that age;

Like bismillah the King stood at their head;

The ranks were lines of writing on the page,

And proudly stood behind the one who led.

The dawn blinked at the whiteness shown between

The rows of words that Ali once had seen.

They magnified the Lord in glorious tune;

All heaven's angels blessed them for their sake.

In faith their faces shone bright as the moon;

In fear of God their limbs began to quake.

Their necks were bowed in humble adulation.

Like the crescent moon they folded in prostration.

Haidar's scions, Muhammad's noble kin,

Eighteen brave young men stood in one place;

All peerless, righteous, humble, free of sin,

The friends of the Imam in wisdom's grace.

Theirs the praise of God in all directions.

Theirs the beads that told their benedictions.

They stood, then bowed; their prayers flew to the sky;

To the One Existing Lord they showed devotion.

Prostrate upon the ground, their time passed by;

Their hands, their arms, their feet betrayed no motion.

But of their own dire plight. they made no word.

They prayed beneath the shadow of the sword.

They raised their heads and pointed to the air;

The gates of heaven received their adulation.

Their hands, the pinions of the bird of prayer,

To the trembling sky sped on their supplication.

In humble pose they fell upon the ground;

In Gabriel's domain their words passed round.

The prayer of the King of Men was now complete;

His thirsty friends came forth to shake his hand.

One kissed his cheek, another touched his feet;

What stalwart spirits had this hungry band!

His soldiers pledged their faith with every breath;

Embracing on the feast-day of their death.

Here one fell upon the ground in thanks;

Here the Quran was read in doleful strains.

Praise of the Prophet echoed in their ranks;

Here power to the Almighty 'mid their pains.

Husain cried out: 'Have pity on our plight;

On us who thirst and hunger in our flight!'

Here sad laments and pleading supplication;

But there oppression, cruelty, wicked deeds.

Umar, son of Sa'ad cried, 'Keep your station!

Watch the river, guard the banks and meads !

Husain is without water for two days.

Let him not drink a drop until he pays.'

The Celestial King gave orders from his place,

When arrows suddenly began to fall.

Towards the evil foe he turned his face.

Weighing his sword Abbas obeyed his call.

Like moths around the torch of the Imam,

They rallied to protect Husain from harm.

To Ali Akbar he made this behest:

'On treachery our evil foe is bent.

[continued at https://www.al-islam.org/articles/battle-karbala-marthiyaa-anis]

#poetry #islam #imam husayn #karbala

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paramounticebound · 7 years ago

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@daniels-b-captain || cont.

The itching had become maddening. Over the course of the past few weeks, the timer on his wrist had begun its countdown. Slow at first, as if it wasn’t certain of the fate beholden– or maybe it was damaged by the passage of time. He wasn’t certain, having placed its existence in the back of his mind for the majority of his life. More important instances had stolen his undivided attention: empires to build, a flock to lead, gold to turn to rust.

Now, now the timer demanded nothing but his attention. Truthfully, it had created a certain unrest within him. Uneasiness had no business taunting a king, causing shivers to crawl up the spine. Each vertebrae echoed his displeasure, a dull ache in his bones. Khan wondered– was it a member of his crew, someone that had been near him since the beginning? So then why now? The entire galaxy was at the reach of his fingertips, and he reminded himself at every warp.

At least he could divert his attention to the plan at hand. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the augments had found a world to call their own. Avoiding the scrutiny of Earth and its Federation, they’d slipped between the cracks. At least they were free, no longer in the hands of warmongering admirals or scientists determined to cure human mortality. Not to say that Khan himself was not a wanted man– that would be true until Starfleet could slake the thirst for blood, for vengeance. He yearned for retribution as well, but he was also patient, and he was old enough to know there was plenty of time.

The first order of business was to sculpt their chosen world into a desirable condition. Ceti Alpha V was a blank canvas and an unadulterated opportunity for a new kingdom. It would become a utopia when he was done, rivaling– surpassing– the empire he had built on Earth so long ago. It had not been his idea to hire a terraforming consultant, however. That had been suggested and encouraged by a few others. Despite overwhelming and often consuming pride, he had finally relented. Adaptable to a fault, even he had to admit that terraforming was not a task the augments had dealt with before. This was still a new time, ripe and unblemished, even if malleable.

The captain could have gazed through the viewport for another decade, simply contemplating and admiring the vast array of stars, cosmic wonder seeping from every angle in his vision. Interruption manifested like a bolt of lightning to the wrist, down to the marrow. Inhalation mimicked a hiss as the offending appendage was clutched in his other hand. Only when he noticed the timer did his grimace melt away, giving into surprise.

00:00:00

The sound of another entering the bridge was like flipping a switch– never show weakness, especially not in front those who looked to their prince for leadership. Becoming stone once more was no light task, but it was done before he turned to face the two. One he recognized, the other he did not.

The dawning of realization was not wasted. As if every other living thing on the bridge was no more, his focus turned to her. This human, this ghost among living statues.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Moreau. You are dismissed.”

The female augment nodded curtly and turned on her heel to exit, but not before shooting Daniels another amused look. Her brisk walk could be heard until it disappeared down the corridor. He remained silent for moments after, stretching into an infinity. To deny the pull would be to deny himself and the whispers of what must be that were tattooed into his very flesh. Still, his hands were placed behind his back, expression revealing anything aside from the disquiet that plagued him.

He knew that she knew, he could see it in her eyes, that inherently defiant stance. This would be interesting.

“Captain Branson, I presume? Welcome aboard.”

#danielsbcaptain #i hope this is okay #i'm excited for the mess this is going to become though #verse: man becomes the ghost of his own creations until he learns to swallow (alien.)#x: who is the lamb and who is the knife (daniels and khan.)#x: YOU SHOULD HAVE LET ME SLEEP (queue.)

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