So I know I haven't started anything here (or completed some) in a while, but the spirit is just in me to post some stories I've been writing for some time.

The title of this story (which this thread is for) is Boy Binti, however, at intervals, I'll be posting snippets of some other works on this thread for feedback.

So without Further ado, here is "Boy Binti", a story about a Princess who is forced into an arranged marriage and has to learn to love her new husband.

This story is set in Medieval times and the kingdoms are all fictional. It will be written in 2 Points-of-View (First Person and Third Person), so, don't be put off if there's a switch.


BOY BINTI by Safarigirl


"Binti, you are not a boy."

My mother's soft voice whispered those words into my mind. Her brown eyes stared into mine of similar colour, as she divested me of my muddied clothes, just before she had to tend to the bruises I had gotten after a long and eventful day out in the forests.

I was 8-years old, and bristling with the reserves of an energy I had not successfully expelled. It was just an hour before sundown, and I had been quite optimistic that I would be able to quickly change my clothes and return to the centre of our playground without being detected. I had not counted on Suna, my mother's chief maid, spotting me as I snuck into the hallway that led to my bedroom. My greatest worry, as my mother applied a salve to some of my bruises, was that I would disappoint my friends. I did not care so much for my mother's opinion as to what she assumed I thought I was.

My mother did want me to believe I was not a boy though, she greatly did. I had never wondered why she would constantly repeat those words to me whenever I came back from a hunt, or when I would joust with my little brother Fasim, not at the points when I would abandon the pretty dresses she would spread on my bed for comfortable slacks, not when I aged enough for my body to begin blood flow so that I would not be able to join my friends for one exciting game or the other. I had just always assumed my mother wanted me to join her in the idle chat she partook in, or some other uninteresting act like sewing.

Whether I was male or female was inconsequential. I fully planned to explore other lands when I came of age as a sailor, and I was rather confident my status as royalty would afford me such a dream. My gender was meaningless.

"Binti, you are not a boy."

This voice was hard, unyielding. The words were harsh, demanding my understanding of the severity of the situation and not pleading for it. Sharp dark eyes stared down at me, from the height of the throne, and my father's lips remained in a harsh frown.

"Father, I never said I was." I stated…and truly, at no point had I contested with anyone of the fact. Still…

"So, you will do as is required of you then, as the princess of this land."

The princess. I had never thought of what was required of me as a princess. I had always been aware of my status as royalty, but as I was now learning, I should have been more curious of what my father expected of me, what the kingdom expected of me.

Marriage. Not to Joba, the boy I had spent all my life with, who I had climbed trees with and caused all sorts of havoc within the village, the boy I had always thought would one day be my husband if I had to be married. Not to Dinga, the blacksmith's son who would often join us for no other reason than to play pranks and tease us. Not to Romi, our quiet companion, that served as the lookout whenever we wanted to steal fruits from an orchard. Not even to a son of our kingdom, someone who lived a few metres away, from whose home I could on some days, stroll down to the palace to spend some time with my parents and my brother.

Marriage to another man. A man who lived in a land across the sea. So far away from home. A man I neither knew nor had ever met. King Hannon. I had heard his name a few times in conversations I was not a part of. Not enough to know the first thing about him, but to glean he was supposed to be a bit popular.

I did not know this man, yet…

I glanced at my mother, willing her to step in and appeal to her husband to spare me. Sadly, there was no courage to be found from her. This was the moment she had been preparing me for. All of those reminders had only been to ease the pain of what was coming, and yet…

"In the coming moons, Hannon will be at the palace to wed you. At the end of the ceremony, you will follow him back to the Medira kingdom." My father supplied. It was not a request, he was simply intimating me on what was expected of me.

I nodded slightly, as I lowered my gaze down to the gold-plated floor of the palace.

"Binti."

I raised my eyes to find the stern features of my father.

"I hope you understand what is required of you."

What did it matter if I understood it or not? Clearly, a decision had been made without my input or any form of consideration of my person. It was hard to wrap my head around such a thing, much like I did not have the option of rejecting it.

This was my fate. This was the role I had to play.

*****
"You should not sulk so much, father says the Medira king is a very industrious man. You should be happy he accepted you."

I turned a burning gaze at my brother, thoroughly disgusted by his version of sympathetic words. I wasn't even sure he was trying to be sympathetic to my plight. Maybe he was gloating. Oh, to be the male child who would never be sold off for a consolidation of power, or whatever my father was getting from this Hannon man.

"Wisdom insists that you desist from making comments on situations that do not affect you, brother." I stated snidely.

As with most of my venomous words, my brother paid no heed to the bite, as he responded, "Wisdom also insists that you accept a fate you cannot change, rather than sulk over it." He offered

I could not deny the truth in his words as much as I could deny the pain it brought me. I was doomed from the moment I entered this earth as a girl. This day had been coming all my life, my father had simply allowed me bask in a freedom not promised.

"Like I said…" Fasim began, seeing that I had no rebuttals to offer, "... Father says the Medira king is quite an industrious man and has built a prosperous kingdom in the years since his father's death. You should keep that in mind, at least you aren't being married off to a lower kingdom."

I suppose Fasim was right. I should be grateful for small mercies. I wondered on what the Medira king was like, was he around my age? Did he like to hunt like I did? Was he as agile a fighter as Joba? Would I like him? Would it matter?

A countdown had begun on my life in the kingdom I had always known. I was set to be taken to a place I had never been. That was all that mattered.


****

The sharp edge of the sword met the metal sharpener, the sound of steel on metal reverberating around the hollow chamber.

Hannon brought the sword down to the metal once again, his sharp grey eyes burning into the steel as he performed a routine that served more as a means of relieving himself, than the actual sharpening of his sword.

He could vaguely hear the sound of the door opening and closing, and then large feet hitting the stones that were set upon the ground as they approached him. Even before the guest made their presence known, Hannon already guessed who it was. No one else would dare interrupt his solitude.

"So, you're really going ahead with this plan of yours?" Mekka, his best friend and confidant asked.

Hannon made no attempt to pause his movement, nor did he give his friend any more than his back, as he responded, "if you're here to inquire on whether I plan to be married in a fortnight, then, yes, I do plan on being married in a fortnight." He raised his blade into the air, and watched a ray of light bounce off the steel.

"To the daughter of King Shaeed? A girl you've never met?"

Hannon lowered the blade, and finally turned to his friend. Mekka stared at him in a look so familiar, Hannon couldn't differentiate it from his friend's quirky smile. Disbelief.

"King Shaeed assured me his daughter is of age to marry, she is no girl." Hannon supplied.

Mekka scoffed, "She's not a native of this land."

Hannon quirked a brow, "My memory may be poor, but I have never known this kingdom to be particular of the origins of their queen. In fact, my own mother…"

"...was taken as a spoil of war and we all know how that ended." Mekka blurted out.

Hannon's features grew hard, his grip tightened on his sword and his eyes blazed with barely contained fury.

Mekka wisely stepped back almost as soon as those wretched words left his lips, and raised both hands in the air, bowing his head in reverence, "Forgive me, Your Highness. I spoke carelessly." He said, he raised his concerned eyes to Hannon, and he was once again his close friend, rather than his subject, "I just worry that your intentions may be…lacking of honour"

Hannon understood his worry. Sadly, he could not quell that worry, "My intentions are none of your concern Mekka. Your concern, according to the requirements of your office, is to make sure we're making the right trade deals with other kingdoms."

Mekka regarded him briefly, as if itching to say more. Hannon cocked his brow in challenge. His friend must have thought better of what he wanted to say, because he simply bowed, "As you wish, my king."

Hannon had never expressed this to Mekka, but he most hated moments like this, when the line between their friendship and his kingship became visible. Yes, Mekka had liberties none else in the kingdom had with him, and he rather enjoyed the occasional pull of his ear his friend offered when he was being unreasonable, but there were times when Hannon had no intention of being prevailed upon.

Times like today.

Shaeed had offered him his daughter in marriage five years ago. It had been two years after his ascension to his father's throne, and he had gone on a conquest, amassing a few more kingdoms in the process. The Moor king had extolled his values as a great warrior and a powerful king, and he had promised him his daughter's hand when she came of age.

Hannon recognised it for what it was- a peace offering. Shaeed did not have his youth, and his son did not have the gift of age to protect their kingdom if such a time came. The older man was only trying to protect his interest by offering up his daughter.

Hannon had accepted his offer, without a care for what this daughter looked like or if she would be to his liking. He had other things to occupy his mind. But then the years had gone by, and the time had now come for Shaeed to fulfill his end of the agreement.

He had never laid eyes on Shaeed's daughter. He did not care for what she looked like. Her father told tales of her beauty and smarts, assured Hannon that he would find her appealing.

Hannon did not think much of it either way. She was merely the seal upon an unspoken pact. He hoped her father made her understand that much.

With that cleared up, Hannon once again turned his back to his friend, effectively dismissing him. On some days he found himself leaning more towards his mostly quiet friend and Head warrior, Khan. Unlike Mekka, Khan followed orders without asking questions.

It was why he had chosen him to travel to the Adavi Kingdom and bring along the Princess. Hopefully, they would arrive his kingdom quickly. He wanted to be done with whatever ceremonies they would have to partake in.

Following

I hadn't cried as much as I thought I would. Maybe I had gotten enough time to fully grasp my true reality so that when the time came to leave, tears seemed futile. Maybe my own decision to not show emotion while I boarded the boat that was to take me to my new kingdom kept the tears away. Maybe it was looking upon the large, angry face of Hannon's Chief Warrior, a man who introduced himself as Khan, and seeing how detached he seemed to be at the final dinner in my honour before I had to leave, that stopped me from crying.

A lot of things did not go according to my thoughts…or my father's promises. I still couldn't believe I was supposed to be getting married, but my alleged husband had not bothered enough to make an appearance at my kingdom, or partake in some form of wedding ceremony. My father had not even thought that odd and it further sealed how insignificant I really was.

Truly, I had been living in a false reality all this time. The only daughter of King Shaeed, Princess of the Adavi Kingdom, the pride of my mother and joy of my father…quietly carried off to a foreign kingdom under the guise of marriage.

The tears may not have left my eyes, as I got on the ship and watched my mother's eyes water with the tears mine were denied, but my heart ached still. My chest felt heavy, and a sudden blanket of loneliness shrouded me.

Khan was either nice enough to leave me to my devices, or he just didn't care enough to monitor my activities. I spent most of my time on the ship, writing about the betrayal of my father and the uncertainty of the life ahead.

By the time we arrived, I was exhausted and slightly annoyed at the discomfort I had to deal with on the ship. Whatever ceremonial activities I was denied as I left home though, the Medira Kingdom tried to make up for it.

I was foisted upon a beautiful, dark horse that instantly captured my attention with its silky mane. Dressed in my tribal cloak, my head was lowered, as the horse trotted along, led by Khan.

We passed through the streets; I knew this because I could hear the hustle and bustle at first, and then I was aware of the loud silence that followed my entrance. I wondered if the people were even aware their future Queen had arrived. Considering my husband hadn't bothered to show up at my kingdom, it was unlikely he had informed his people of a bride.

We finally reached the palace doors, and as detached as I had tried to make myself feel, I held my breath. Behind those doors, was the man I would be spending the rest of my life with.

The weight of that thought caused a slump of my shoulders. Still, curiosity seized me…what did he look like? What did he sound like? Would his eyes be as kind as Joba's? I had not considered any of these all this time, but now that I was here, my thoughts were flooded with possibilities.

"I would suggest you get off the horse now, princess." Khan's gruff voice pulled me out of my thoughts and into reality.

My dark gaze fell on the brown-skinned man. His skin reminded me of burnt clay, his features were hard. I had easily surmised that he was a warrior when I had first met him. He would have even passed as handsome to some, if not for those hard features. His eyes were obsidian, his nose may have been straight once upon a time, but it now looked like it had been broken multiple times, and hadn't healed properly. It was crooked. His lips were slightly thin, and fixed in a frown at me.

"It is unwise to keep the king waiting."

Of course. I was here to be handed over to the king like chattel. Khan stretched out his hand to help me off the horse.

Well, I suppose this was where the rest of my life began.



****

"She's arrived." Mekka's dry tone carried his displeasure at the news, but Hannon paid no mind to it.

It was unfortunate that his best friend was yet to accept the circumstances they were now all a part of.

"Thank you, Mekka." He responded.

He waited silently, until he heard the sound of the door closing to signify Mekka's exit.

Somewhere in the back of his head, a tiny voice kept reminding him he didn't need a wife. Seven months ago, he hadn't even wanted a wife. He had seen what marriage had done to his father, he had seen how it had driven the old man mad, so much so that he had lashed out at him.

His parents marriage had been pointless, with both parties in a constant competition to hurt each other. His mother's every decision was borne of spite. Hannon had been caught in the middle of their war.

The end had been ugly and traumatizing for him. He didn't need a wife, but getting a heir was a necessity.

That was what Princess Binti would serve as; a vessel through which the next generation of his lineage could come into this world.

He rose from his favourite chair, and made his way out of his bedroom. The light raucous his newly arrived bride had caused, ricocheted through the walls of the palace. He had not informed most of the workers that he was expecting a bride.

The kitchen staff had been asked to prepare a meal for evening guests, but that was all Hannon had divulged to them. A large ceremony was uncalled for, soon enough, the entire kingdom would know of his union.

The moment he stepped into the throne room, the light murmurings that had been coming from the council members instantly died off. Hannon's eyes drifted along the features of all seven men whose counsels he regarded. Only two of them had been part of his father's council. Hannon liked to think himself much different from his father in ruling; his father had been obnoxious, boisterous, the epitome of leadership Hannon most abhorred. As a child, he had looked up to Henan, assumed him all knowledgeable, but that had died once his mother was killed and his father unraveled into the mess Hannon knew through his adolescence and a great part of his teenage years.

The counsel he had kept had all been useless. They had watched their king depreciate and offered nothing but false praises and smelly sycophancy. It was why Hannon had gotten rid of most of them.

The seven men on his council feared him. Hannon was under no illusions that he was anything else but fearsome. Yet, they still called him to order when he veered too far from his duty, although such an occurrence was a rarity.

They were his most trusted men, and it was only right they were present when the unveiling of his new bride happened.

He lowered himself onto his throne, "Bring her in." He called out.

The large doors opened up, and Khan's hulking form stepped into the throne room. His Head warrior approached him confidently, but beyond Khan, another form captured Hannon's attention.

She was much smaller in comparison to Khan, but the woman who walked with a soft sway of her hips and her head lowered, was quite hard to ignore. Her carriage was as graceful as was to be expected of a princess, but the hood covering up her entire head irritated him.

"Your Highness." Khan bowed a few feet away from the throne. The woman merely stopped walking, but didn't mirror Khan's movement otherwise, "As you ordered, I have brought to you, Princess Binti of the Adavi Kingdom."

"You have done well, Khan. Thank you." Hannon responded. His hard eyes remained on the woman whose head was still bowed.

Hannon didn't have a sister and had never bothered to familiarise himself with whatever training went on with female children, but surely there must have been some teachings on how a lady was to present herself to a King. Had Shaeed's daughter missed those lessons?

Khan nodded in acknowledgment, just before he stepped away. Hannon didn't miss the sharp glare Khan gave the smaller woman. He instantly wondered if she had been as petulant on the trip over.

With Khan gone, Hannon could now fully focus on the Princess, "If you cannot introduce yourself as proper royalty would in the presence of a King, does wisdom not demand that you reveal your face at the least?" He asked.

She remained unmoving for a moment, causing Hannon to wonder if Shaeed had sent him his defective child. He had simply accepted the older man's offer for his daughter, but had never asked if she had an impediment.

"Are you deaf?" He asked, his voice harder. Insubordination was an alien concept amongst his subjects. This princess would learn that quickly.

Slowly, she reached up to the hood and pulled it off her head, revealing herself.

Hannon had no expectations, and he had told himself what she looked like didn't matter, but by the gods! Binti Shaeed was stunning.

She stood in his presence, with a posture that could only have been gotten from many classes, her dark eyes stared at him with an underlying fieriness and those full lips were in a slight frown. She had a heart shaped face with a delicate jawline, the cloak was draped over her form, but the slight swell around her bust and hip area told of a shapely form.

Her skin was dark, just like her father's, but there was a youthful glow to it that did not exist with King Shaeed's. He stared at her, finding himself lost for words, a feeling that was rather odd.

Perhaps, he should have had an expectation, maybe she would not have rendered him this tongue-tied.

"Do you not speak?" He asked after a while of just staring at her.

"I wasn't aware slaves were allowed to speak in the presence of their masters." She responded.

Hannon was unsure of which surprised him most; the firmness of her voice, or the atrocious words that had left her lips.

Slave? Had he not had his Chief warrior escort her from her home? Had he not sent Khan to get her with his best ship? Had she not rode on a horse befitting of royalty? Yet, the first words she thought to utter to him, were accusations of enslavement?

"Do you think yourself a slave, Princess?" He asked, his eyes traveled over her form in inspection, "I do not see your chains, you're dressed in the finest of cottons, not a blemish to your skin, nor a tear stain against your cheek. Does your father welcome his slaves on horses as grand as that which I welcomed you with?" He asked, his tone was casual, but Hannon was terribly offended by her assertions.

"A grand welcome does not negate the purpose of this filthy exchange." She spat, "In my kingdom, a husband presents himself to the bride's family for a wedding ceremony, not send their servant to retrieve them."

If there were any notions that Binti was speaking on anyone else, she quickly dispelled it by glancing at Khan in a rather derisive manner.

Khan maintained his blank stare, but Hannon was certain his friend was seething within. Binti Shaeed was unlike what he had expected, it was now clear why her father was so quick to pawn her off to him.

Women didn't speak with such condescension in his kingdom, certainly not of men as highly ranked as Khan was, or to him. She had no coyness to her actions and no tact. Had she, like him, lost her mother so young, that there had been no female influence to teach her how to address men?

"I apologise if your father and Khan failed to give you a proper introduction to what is expected of you in my palace, Princess…" Hannon began diplomatically. The slight confusion mixed with hope in the princess' eyes would have given a lesser man pause, but Hannon was anything but a lesser man. It made the blow that much easier to deliver, "...but while you are not here as a slave, you are here as chattel. You are a barter. You're not my queen, nor even a daughter of this kingdom. You're here to warm my bed, to satisfy my sexual urges and to bear my seed. You're here to attend to my needs, therefore, I will not have you disrespect my people, how much more, my Chief Warrior, to boost your worthless ego."

Hannon watched the shock register on her pretty face slowly, a hint of shame lingering in her eyes. She had no words with which to counter him and her silence filled him with an unexplainable sense of pride.

"I would suggest you attune yourself to what is expected of you, rather than seek that which you have no rights to." He stated, "A maid will be assigned to you, and she will intimate you on your role as my bedmate. Hopefully, your time here will improve your manners."

What happened to the story?

Wow