//------------------------------// // Chapter 1: Hob wa Hayat // Story: The Mark of Eran // by Tofazz //------------------------------// Hob wa Hayat                  Moxie walked through the white rooms of her house. The sun barely peaked over the mountains, but was quickly rising. Light slowly brought an end to the morning and forth an impeccably clear skies and calm wind. As her hoofs hit the floor near the windows, she smiled in delight over the warmth it gave over her ocean blue faded hoofs. Her red and white gown rested neatly over her ivory fur, barely moving when she did. She pushed away a strand of cherry colored mane from her bright orange eyes. She made sure the golden bracelet with an orange Ghazath opal sat properly on her right leg.         “Athaal, would you hurry up?” she shouted, shifting her ears to and fro in an attempt to locate her husband.         Hearing faint rummaging above her, she smiled and sat down at the living room table, allowing her eyes to wander over the garden. Despite her lack of sleep, she felt a sense of vigor today; the day somehow filled her with energy. She rubbed a hoof over her stomach, her state of mind matching the beauty of the gardens. Clear green leaves looked almost prismatic as the sun shone through them, and the manticore-roses bloomed with life with a beautiful deep red color. A soft wind blew over, rustling the leaves and grass and causing small critters within the bushes to skitter away. She saw how the white, black-tipped swallow landed in the tree near the balcony that overlooked the city. It skipped happily over to a nest it had built on a branch, greeted by its mate and children. The bird gave away its food and chirped happily before it flew off again; a tiny black dot swallowed by the blue yonder. “Is this good enough?” asked a calm voice behind her. She turned and greeted her husband, which gave a slight smile at the corner of his lips. He rarely stepped out of his armor or common clothes for anything, but today she convinced him to wear some of his finer clothing. A pure white jacket contained an embroidery with a bright orange thread at the edges; and around his neck he had tightened the band holding the Ghazath opal in place, burning with a fiery glow. She rose and pulled at his collar, straightening it out, while he shifted in place with obvious unease. She had brushed his dark brown mane and tail this morning, trying her best to make the braids look nicer than normal by exchanging his silver rings with golden ones. She let a hoof touch the large neck muscles under his light brown fur, and turned her gaze to his eyes. They looked back at her with a clear green color, the ring of his irises a dull gray. Gray and calm, just the way she loved them. Athaal blushed. “Is it not good enough, do you want me to change?” She shook her head and kissed him lovingly on the lips, “No, it’s perfect... I’m just happy.” She said and thought back to the bird nest outside, how there soon would be two families in their home. Athaal lifted her from the ground and held her up. “I hope they will take the news well.” He twirled her around and chuckled.  “If they are even half as excited as I am, it will turn out fine,” he said, and put her back down. He ran his hoof over her cheek. She leaned her cheek into his hoof. “I’m sure they’ll be overjoyed.” Athaal pressed a hoof to her stomach and smiled. “She has grown lately.” She smacked his hoof away. “Stop that!” she giggled, and headed for the door. “What makes you so sure it is a filly?” she asked. “I don’t know, I just got a feeling.” Closing the door after them, she turned and asked, “Would you want to raise a daughter in Saddle-Arabia though?” He paced forward and opened his hoofs to the sky. “With you I would do anything, Moxie, even if the country itself is not the best for a filly; we would give her the life she deserves.” He turned and pulled her close, raising her to her hind legs and arched her down while holding her firmly. He looked at her, saying nothing, saying not a word before kissing her deeply. Their lips parted and he smiled as he parted a strand of her mane to the side. “I love you, Moxie. I meant it when I said it on our wedding night.” He stopped, as he remembered their wedding. Even if she had forgiven him a long time ago, he had not forgiven himself for the anger he had held that night. No matter how many times she told him to let it go, he refused. It remained as a mental scar within him, somehow so easily showing upon his face. “And my love grows more each passing day I spend together with you. Together we can do anything we set our minds to and I believe that with all my heart.” She felt her cheeks heat up, taken completely by surprise by the sudden outburst from him. Her mane fell down behind her as she returned his gaze and kissed him. She wanted to do more.  She wanted to say what he had just said to he, but something stopped her. She loved him, she had no doubt about it, she couldn’t imagine any other life than the one they had now. Just being with him filled her with a soothing warmth, and made her feel like she could let go of all her worries. She couldn’t figure out why it was so hard for her to convey her feelings to him. It sounded so simple and natural in her head, but it stopped somewhere on the way out. It seemed like Athaal didn’t mind, but she knew it mattered to him and she could always see a hint of sadness in his eyes when she didn’t reciprocate. She kissed him again. “Let’s go, you know how my father hates to wait.” With a little support from her husband she managed to get back on her hoofs. Athaal’s smile shifted to a slight frown. “He will probably take me to the side and talk about customs again.” He pulled a hoof down his face. “And with the news of him becoming a grandfather, he will probably want to teach me how to raise a foal as well.”         Moxie giggled as they began to walk. “I’m sure you’ll be fine,”         He raised an eyebrow. “That’s easy for you to say, since you’re not the one who has to sit and listen to his constant pampering of old customs.”         She rolled her eyes but remained silent, it seemed Athaal had completely forgotten that he was talking about her father. Anything he needed to sit through now, she had already received more of over many, many years growing up in her father’s house. She found her husband’s poorly hidden dislike of her father amusing; she knew just how Ghalib could come off. At the same time, she remembered how he had hurt Athaal on their wedding day, so she could understand his dislike to some degree. At least he bore no ill will towards anypony.         They reached the end of their road and strafed left towards her parent’s summer house. She loved walking on days like this, where the sun beamed, blessing the country with its warmth. The fountains built in the park glimmered as the water trickled through its cycle. Caretakers were out, watering the ground so that the green carpet of grass stayed fresh and lovely, for both eye and hoof. Trees cast long shadows down the sandy road they traversed, making her shudder just a little bit from the cold as they passed through them. On a day like this it was easy for her to forget whatever problems she had with the country and instead be reminded of all the things that made her love it.         She was happy that they could meet at her parents’ summer house rather than at residence down in the merchant quarter. Even with her wedding bracelet on she felt uneasy going there.  The constant judging eyes towards her, and now that her pregnancy was beginning to show more clearly. The judgment for her gimpy wing would become even more severe. For some reason they thought physical imperfections made her unfit to be a parent. ‘Like they would know,’ she thought, venomously.   She shook her dark thoughts away and decided to focus on something else, not wanting to spoil her mood before delivering the good news to her parents.         A chill went through her spine as they approached. The house seemed to grow taller and taller the closer they came. It had been a long time since she had seen her parents, mostly due to her feelings about the wedding and how her father had hurt Athaal and her. After half a year she had decided to let it go. As her mother had said: they did what they did in the belief that it had been the best for her. She looked quickly at Athaal walking beside her, catching her looking he smiled back at her. ‘It could have been worse,’ she thought, and smiled back.         Servants greeted them warmly as they reached the property, before quickly returning back to their work. Many of them she had fond memories of and was glad they still were around.  When her father had been out of town and her mother had been caught up elsewhere, it was the servants that kept her company. During her foal hood, it was most often at times like those that she was able to see those she would call friends. Rather than playing like how those with no noble blood did, they would remain idle and seated while talking about marriage and their future, which are subjects that bored her to death even today. There was one memory from this place that had pleasantly stuck with her, for it was also here she had met Athaal for the first time. Between the irritations of those trying to become adult too fast, his visits always gave her room to play around, and she quickly began looking forward to his visits over anypony else’s.         It was before the marriage of them had been announced. Until that point, they had been just friends. Marriage and such things had been the last thing on their mind, why wouldn’t it have been? They were only foals, playing without purpose and full of innocence. Then, like a bolt of lightning from the clear sky, they needed to have a purpose together, with no say in the matter themselves. Play was changed to practices on how to behave, and how to show diligence and affection; a sudden end to both their foal hoods.         Moxie turned her gaze over to Athaal, his gentle form walking beside her, not as a superior in social rank, but as an equal to her. His voice never called out to her in demand, but rather in tender tones, as her’s to him. It was mutual respect built up by their respective actions. She often wondered how it would have been if it had been somepony else. She shook the thought away, and nuzzled her head lovingly at the side of his neck, gaining a warm smile in return. The sand colored mansion stretched far to the sides, completely covering their vision as they walked in between the pillars leading to the door. The roof was emblazoned in a bright red color, and windows placed every few hoofs apart. Carefully tended brushes grew upon the walls, and the gravel remained a perfect white. As they came closer to the door, she could feel her heart  beating faster, fearing what Ghalib might say. Fearing how he perhaps might demand that they name their foal after him. It was common, but was not such a strict code like many other things, and she constantly chided herself for thinking the worst of her father.         A stallion stood by the door, addressing them formally as they came close. “Welcome to the Fayah family estate, please state your business,” he bayed, and bowed deep in respect.         She looked at him. The doorstallion had to be a new addition as she didn’t recognize him. his thin build made him little useful for anything else than greeting visitors. Even if he did his job aptly, and greeted them respectfully, as he would any noble, it annoyed her that she was not addressed as the daughter of Fayah.         She bowed back, but only just enough for it not to be considered an insult. “Moxie and Athaal Ghazath, we’re supposed to meet my mother and father today, are they not in?”         The stallion’s eyes grew wide and he fumbled over his words. “Yes, of course, Lady Fayah is waiting for you. Please enter.”         “Not father?” she asked curiously.         “Master is out conducting some last minute business –emergencies,” the skinny brown stallion said.         Moxie sighed and entered. She wasn’t surprised, for her father always put family second to his noble status and business. “It doesn’t matter what it is, it can always wait,” he would say. Her mother had told her that Ghalib almost came in late for her birth, blaming it on some orders from the king. While they all knew that wasn’t the case, nopony brought it up, deciding it was best to forget it.         A smile crossed her lips again as they walked through the large red hallways. Pictures of her foalhood hung neatly up on the wall, everything from her first steps to her wedding preparations. She stopped at a picture of her mother and father during their wedding, completely mesmerized by it.         Athaal stopped next to her and looked upon it as well, both taking note that it was unusual to see Ghalib like that. Neither had seen him smile since their foal hood, not even at their wedding.         Moxie’s throat dried up. Was it her that had caused Ghalib’s heart to harden? Perhaps she was an unwanted filly, or was it the fact that she could not fly like other pegasi, or that she was imperfect. It was a question that often bothered her, but now, seeing this picture, it came back, stronger in her mind than ever. Had she been the reason he had delved so deep into business, neglecting both her mother and herself?         Athaal nuzzled her neck carefully as her eyes remained fixated upon the picture. He knew her thoughts, almost as well as she herself did. While he could not help her get rid of those thoughts, just his presence helped her. It made her feel safe and cared for, and he knew that it was all she needed at times. She smiled, grateful for him, and they continued walking to the living room.         The living room had a dark color to it, compared to all other rooms. A large window allowed a view out to the garden, kept in pristine condition and almost glowing in the sun. In the center of the room stood a small glass table,  on it a pitcher of ice cold water already waiting for them. Around the table, seating pillows were placed evenly.         Both Athaal and Moxie turned their heads as they heard hoof steps approaching from behind. A white elderly mare smiled warmly; the tip of her ears had a faint shade of yellow. Her velvet black mane hung down her side in an elegant braid, complemented by a white bow at the end of it. Afraa’s ice blue eyes looked at them with a faint glimmer.         Moxie felt her lower lip tremble slightly, and she realized how much she had missed her mother. “Mother,” she squeaked as she stepped forward and embraced her. It had been far too long since she had felt the loving embrace of her mother.         “My little girl…” her mother whispered soothingly.         They stood in each other’s embrace for a moment before they let go and looked to each other. "I missed you,” Moxie chimed.         At her side, she saw Athaal standing completely frozen, almost gawking at them. She knew he held no joy towards Ghalib, but he respected Afraa, perhaps a little too much. He had instantly straightened out his back as they had seen her, and he stood in an almost salute as Afraa looked at him.         Her mother walked over to Athaal, “Come here, I haven’t forgotten you,” she said and hugged him before taking him on hoofs length, and grinned slightly. “Have you been treating my daughter well?”         Athaal’s neck muscles tensed. “I have, ma’am,” he mumbled.         “Good,” Afraa said and patted him on his cheek.         They sat down near the table and remained silent as a servant rushed forward and poured water in their glasses from the pitcher. It was always a little odd at the start, but without Ghalib here they allowed themselves to relax a little bit more. Not worrying about how to act, or whom would start the conversation.         “It has been too long, how are you?” Afraa inquired.         “We’re great, we’ve finally finished our house, so there’s no more construction around us, and our garden is finally blooming with life.” Athaal reached a hoof around Moxie. “We also have some good news.” He didn’t continue and stroke Moxie over her shoulder, encouraging her to continue.         First taken a little by surprise, she halted and cleared her throat. “Athaal and I have been married for over half a year now, as you know.” She tried, struggling horribly with finding the right words, it’s not like she had done this before. Athaal had just blurted it out to his parents, but then again, their relationship was very different.         “Yes, I’m aware of that.” Afraa said in a light wondering tone.         As if an iron carpet had laid itself over her muzzle, her mind froze, and she gave Athaal a quick jab to his side; making him almost jump off his pillow. He looked at her with a frown, before he understood that she needed some help to continue.         He cleared his throat. “Not too long ago, we found out that we’re getting a new addition to our family,” he said and beckoned Moxie to continue once more.         Taking a deep breath, she smiled and looked at Afraa. “I’m with foal, mother, father and you will become grandparents.”         “How wonderful!” Afraa beamed. “I’m so glad!” She rose and walked around the table, quickly embracing Moxie in a warm hug. With tears trickling down her cheek, she looked to Athaal. “Come here…” she ordered calmly and took both of them in her warm grasp. “I’m so very happy for the two of you.”         She let them go, and winked at Athaal. “I knew you were treating her well.”         Moxie giggled seeing how quickly her husband’s cheeks turned red. And a sense of wonder struck her, just how much freer her mother was when in her own home, without her father. Every time no pony else was around, Afraa let her shackles go, turning into a completely different mare. When it happened it felt like she had to get to know her mother all over again. It saddened her that her mother had to live as the mare who bent to Ghalib’s every whim, she much preferred the happy mare in front of her now.         For now she was happy that the news was so well received. With her mother this happy, there’s no way Ghalib would think any different, would he?         Her mother beckoned them to sit again, “I’m so glad…” A faint squeak was in her voice. She shook her head, “Oh, silly me, crying at a time like this.” She shook her head and chuckled, taking a napkin to her wet eyes “Have you thought of a name yet? I know your father would swell with pride if you name a son after him.” She turned to Athaal. “That is up to you.”         Moxie said nothing, listening to Athaal reassuring Afraa that they had agreed to decide on names together. Ghalib would perhaps become displeased if they didn’t name it after him, but for the life of her she couldn’t get herself doing so. A name should be given lovingly, and a stallion more worried about status and money was not that; it was quite the opposite. She hoped intensely that Athaal was right about the gender, if only to avoid her father’s adherence to custom.         “We have some ideas,” she interjected, “father will be disappointed, but we have not taken a name from Athaal’s parents either, so there’s that.”         Her mother looked at her with sadness in her eyes, yet with acceptance. She knew the reason for her choice, “I’m sure your father will learn to understand in time.” Afraa lastly muttered as a weary sigh escaped her lips.         Moxie nodded. “If it’s a filly, we are thinking of Junah.”         “Named after the sun… what a fantastic name for a filly; especially considering that its mother has the eyes touched by the sun-goddess herself. And if it is a colt?” she inquired.         “We’re thinking of Badin then.” Moxie looked over to her husband, pride swelling her heart         Afraa tried the names, letting them roll over her tongue as she spoke, and Moxie slowly saw that the meaning of the names finally struck her. “Badin, in honor of the moon! What a wonderful idea, either you’ll have a colt blessed by the night, or a filly blessed by the day; prosperity will surely fall on either.”         “Thank you,” she said and nuzzled her husband’s shoulder, “it was Athaal’s idea, and seeing as I liked it as well it quickly fell to those two.”         Their conversation turned to idle chatter, speaking far and wide what they planned to do from this point on. To Moxie’s odd relief, her father had not returned; it would probably be easier if Afraa brought him the news, both for Athaal and her sake. Afraa recognized their concern and seemed to make a point not to take it up any further. Moxie felt her lack of sleep finally catching up to her, and her felt her eyelids grow heavier. Even as the food was brought in, a delicious assortment, she did not wake up, nor did her appetite come to her. She watched as Athaal and Afraa nibbled small bites, and decided to force an attempt herself. Trying a small bite of a roasted soy steak, she chewed, feeling the piece grow inside of her mouth. As it traveled down her throat, it felt like a disgusting bile tickling her insides, and she struggled not to let her disgust show. She knew the food was good, delicious in fact. Even if it was just her mother here, there was a certain level of respect she felt she needed to maintain.         “Is everything well, Moxie?” Afraa asked cautiously.         She nodded, feeling her throat and stomach clench tight. “Yes, it’s just… I’ve not been sleeping well lately, and my appetite is not the best. Sorry, Mother.”         “Should we leave?” Athaal asked worriedly, carefully stroking her back.         Taking deep breaths, she looked ruefully over at him. “Yes, I think that would be for the best.” She turned to her mother, “I’m terribly sorry to cut our day short.”         Afraa rose, “Think nothing of it, Moxie, your wellbeing comes before any unnecessary decorum.”         Athaal helped her to her hoofs, and they were both lead to the door by Afraa. After a quick goodbye they began to walk home, and she hoped with all her heart that they would not meet Ghalib on their way, for he would surely not accept anybody to leave before he was satisfied with the length of their visit; regardless of her wellbeing.         Her head began to swim as they reached the end of the park, “Athaal, could we rest for a bit?” she asked.         He touched her forehead. “You’re warm, come, let’s sit down in the shadows.”         He guided her to a secluded area, hidden slightly away from the sight of others and sat down, beckoning her to rest her head upon his lap. The moment she lay down and let her head rest, he ran a hoof through her mane, carefully massaging her head and neck. Her dizziness got replaced with a sense of calm. The grass, cool from the shadow, gently hugged her back and flank.         Before she knew it, she dozed off. Just for a tiny second, barely enough for her to let go of a short snore. Meeting the smile of Athaal, she blushed and let her head fall to the side; while holding onto his hoof. Clutching onto it, wishing it to be like this forever.         Seeing a foal walk together with its family, she smiled. How she longed for them to be complete, just like them. She would learn from what Afraa had done, both good and bad, and make sure she did it right. Then her mind fell to her father, and she turned her gaze to Athaal.         “Athaal,” she whispered.         “Anything wrong?” he asked still running his hoof through her mane.         “It’s just, promise me that we won’t end up like my parents, mother afraid of being who she truly is when father is around, and him… more focused on business and noble duties than his own foal.” She arched her back and peered deep into his eyes, “Promise me that!”she demanded, knowing full well she had overstepped her rights as a wife. Any other stallion would surely have reprimanded her.         Athaal smiled and placed his hoof gently under her jaw. “I fell in love with the mare I’m looking at now, and I will continue to love you till days end. I would never wish for you to be any pony other than you, for I don’t want to love nopony but you,” he answered and kissed her deeply before he gazed at her lovingly. “I promise you that,”         “Thank you,” she cooed, letting her head fall to his lap again. She let out a satisfied sigh and closed her eyes. This moment was almost perfect, there was only one more thing that would make it better. Without turning to him she spoke. “Athaal, could you say it again? The oath you learned from your father?” He laughed at her request, and as he did she felt the muscles in his stomach work, rolling together with his gentle laughter. He grabbed her and placed her so her head nestled upon his neck. With a hoof gently placed on her stomach and mouth kissing her mane, he began, the vibration of his voice teasing her ears. “When day becomes dawn and falls to night, I’ll be here for you. When your first tear falls, I’ll be there for you. You’re brought into this world under my wing bearing the name of Ghazath. No matter the struggles, no matter the cost, I will be there for you, settled next to your mother. By your life, our hearts bound together, a bond only to be broken by death. Wear the name with pride, and we’ll be there for you when struggle arise. Ghazath is whole, and as a family, no one will be forgotten or left behind.” He recited his oath with confidence, his voice controlled, making the oath sound like the finest music to her. Then they remained silent, letting the words hang in the air being the last thing said. Between the chipper of birds around them and the sound of gravel beneath hoofs from around them she only had ears for the heartbeat coming from Athaal. She smiled contently again and let her hoof rest upon his that held her growing stomach.         Athaal spoke up, breaking the silence. “Let me carry you home.”         The pegasus blinked quizzically. “What? Why?”         He got up and lifted her with surprising ease, and she was reminded just how strong he was. “Because I want to,” he replied.         “Bu—“         Before she managed to object he had put her on his back and began to walk with a small canter; just enough so that she swayed with every bounce. She grabbed ahold of his neck and held on tight. feeling her cheeks heat up from the stares they got from other ponies. Realizing just how out of the social norm this was; a noble doing the work of servants, carrying somepony else. Within the stares, she found herself thankful that Athaal did not fuss about such things. He had refused to take in any other servants than what was needed to keep the house in order. No servants that bathed them, served them or cooked for them, like so many other nobles couldn’t live without.         She closed her eyes and buried her muzzle into his mane, ignoring everything around her. His smell burrowed deep in her nose, a few strands tingling over her muzzle, sending a shudder down her back. It felt like with each sway of his body it beckoned her closer to him, the tenderness of how she stroked him; it filled her with joy and serenity. She knew now, more than ever that she loved him. She simply loved him unconditionally. She knew no other way to feel than the way she felt right now, there was no longer him or her. The way he touched her was so careful, so intimate; she knew that no matter what, she could just close her eyes and they’d be together. She knew for certain that they had no need for worry anymore, as long as she could rest her head upon his lap or chest, feeling his heart beat for her, as hers beat for him, they would be okay.         She opened her eyes and saw the front of their mansion, and smiled. He carried her through the door and up to their bed, and she continued smiling. She could not do anything but smile and kiss the gentle lips of his as he smiled back. She knew up until now that her heart had sung a song, incomplete, till his finally sung back, cooing in a beautiful symphony.         He undressed and nestled in close to her, wrapping the cover tightly around them. She turned around, feeling a tear grow in the corner of her eye, instantly the tender touch of his hoof wiped it away.         “What’s the matter?” he whispered softly, almost like he didn’t want to wake her.         She shook her head and sniffled, “Nothing is wrong, I’m just so happy, for I know.”         “Know what?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow.         “That it’s going to be okay, that we’re going to be parents and–” She stopped and smiled.         “And… what?” he asked, his voice still soft as silk.         Moxie closed her eyes and buried her muzzle in the groove of his neck, “I finally know what it feels like to be in love.” She stroked his cheek, “I love you,” she quickly said and felt a warmth spread through her as she pressed her lips against his and kissed him.         His eyes lit up with a fire she had never seen the likes of before, he took her close in his embrace and pressed his muzzle to her ear. “I love you too,” he whispered. It was the last thing she heard before closing her eyes and letting sleep take its embrace, the song of her heart singing loud.