Work Text:
In the room under the throne, dark and damp, Parijahan lied in wait, boredom poisoning her mind. She could hear the voices of men and women discussing futures that were theoretical, deals that would be made, trades that would be created, and did not do anything except exist. She didn’t need to - her sister and brother, the heirs, were there, ready to do all the bothersome things people aboveground had to do. Parijahan was an obstruction, a problem - but a profitable one, and that was all that mattered.
It wasn’t hard to sense when luck began to turn towards her Travash: voices got softer, lowered from their shouts and yells for attention, laughter being passed around like candies at parties Parijahan had never been to. The mood shifted in such ways that, even though it was impossible, Parijahan felt as if there were light inside her cell. That wasn’t possible, of course, but it was nice to imagine warmth in it.
When they released her - hours after, when every guest had left to their rooms, the moon high in the sky -, the party had been over and cleaned, the room as impeccable as when Parijahan had first entered it, as if nothing had happened at all.
To her, of course, nothing had. Nothing happened to Parijahan, whose fate was to rot at the bottom of the throne, changing fate without lifting a finger. Parijahan just had to sit in her cell, and let the bleeding star of her birth change the world for the betterment of her homeland.
At least she had Rashid, who was the one to welcome her back into the moonlight, helping Parijahan stand with weakened limbs, the only one relieved to see her there, still breathing, still alive. It was enough. As long as Parijahan had Rashid by her side, she could deal with the darkness.