Layla

Layla struggled into the gown Markus had picked out for her to wear at the dinner party. It was tight, laced and soft, the best material in all of Enia. She remembered her father buying it as trade from the other countries. It had cost more then mother’s own wedding gown.

“Brace yourself, Miss.” One of the maids aiding her dress whispered politely.

Layla stiffened her back, drowning in her stomach. The women yanked and tugged at the strings of her bodice until she shrieked. She felt cocooned. The air stifled in her chest tightly.

“There you are, Miss.”

“I cannot breathe!”

“It’ll pass, Miss. the pain.”

“I’ll pass out!”

Layla grabbed her stomach to steady herself, drawing in as much air as she could. She felt lightheaded. The only time Markus made her wear things like this was for special occasions, when she needed to look as good as her mother.

It wasn’t all bad. The dress was lovely. The color, cobalt blue with curves as deep as canyons. The sleeves stopped above her forearm, split, divided and hung down to her knees.

Her hair, incredibly long, hung about her small body like a dark cloak. It graced the back of her legs.

Layla was admiring this, trying to think of a way to escape getting it braided when she noticed someone standing in the doorway. She caught them in the mirror that was angled towards the door.

“Just checking on you.” He said.

Layla turned to look at Markus. “I do not want my hair braided if thats what you came to say. I like it like this. I want it like this.”

“The King wishes you to have it neat, and braided you will have it when you go down to see him.” He raised an eyebrow. “Or…would you rather have it in a bun, like your mother?”
“Braided is fine.” She said quickly.

Layla turned away from him. She stared at his reflection for a long time as he stood there, patiently waiting for her. Markus, so beautiful with hair the color of burnt umber and eyes so blue, it was as if he were born in the sea. She had never seen anything like him. People fussed over his beauty, contrasted to the fact that he was a crippled peasant.

Right there and then, the memories hit her like a pile of bricks. From the first day he arrived through the gates of the castle, her life changed. What would she have done without him?


Layla had been turning six that week. It was a big deal, and the King had promised a great party in celebration to the princess’s birth.

But Layla hated it. She suspected her father to hate her. He didn’t like her as much as he would’ve loved her if she were a boy. If she had black eyes like him instead of brown like mother. If she wasn’t so girly, with impish ambitions and the lack of respect she should’ve been born with as the princess.

That day, when the announcement was made that her new tutor was arriving Layla stood at the window. She watched as a tall man on a gallant horse trotted through the gates and into the castle courtyard. She felt curious.

A few minutes later mother was dragging her downstairs. The man stood there before father. He wore traveling clothes and thick riding shoes. Two long fighting sticks propelled from his back and he carried a spear in his hand, the metal point glinting in the soft daylight . A great owl sitting on his shoulders squinted at Katia silently.

“Markus, here she is.” The King started the introductions. “Princes Jameela of Enia. You’ve heard so much of her, now it’s time to make her acquaintance.

“Princess.”

Layla watched as the man bowed deeply to the ground. His voice was warm, deep, honest. She kept quite. Her mother squeezed her hand, slightly curtsying in respect to the stranger.

The King turned to his daughter. His eyes held a sense of despair.

“This is your new governor, Kati. You shall obey him—as you know the rules. Now pay him respect.”

Layla curled her right foot around her left leg and planted herself. She stared at Markus, not moving forward to obey her father.

“Bow!”

The King’s anger showed clearly on his face. He made a move to stand up, but stopped when Layla’s mother squeezed her hand. She lowered her head and gave the stranger the slightest indication of a bow.

The man smiled. It was the most beautiful smile she had ever seen. He had straight white teeth and thin red lips. His eye’s studied her with honesty . They were tired eyes, but filled with a strange light she had never seen before. Layla studied his beauty, entranced by him.

That was their first meeting. From that moment on she promised herself to have all the fun she could with him. Like all the rest, he would give up on her restlessness and leave just as quickly as he came. She was destined to make his living with her miserable.

And the bird, so lovely. Such a pretty bird. From that moment on she fell in love with Umbo.



***************************

“I believe this is yours.”

Layla turned to Markus. He held out a small delicate ring lying in his large palm. It gleamed in the torch lights.
“I don’t want it.” She whispered.
“Take it. It is important you wear it.” His voice was firm.
“Father gave it to me. It is of little importance to me at the least. Keep it, it might be worth something to someone like you.”
She caught the glare behind his eyes. They were in the hall, about to enter the dining room. Their voices were low humming and no one could overhear them.
Markus grabbed her wrist gently. He held her with an iron grip that made her look into his eyes as he forced the ring onto her pinky finger. All the other fingers were already bound with leather straps or decorated with diamonds. There was an urgency in the way he held her.
She yanked her hand away, shoving at his chest.
“I said I didn’t want it!”
“Keep your voice down.” He grabbed her hand again and managed to capture her eyes. “It is time for you to go. Remember, be polite. I know you’re sweet Layla, if you try.”

“I’ll try.” She rolled her eyes. “You tell me this every time.”

“You need reminding.”

“Father doesn’t deserve my presence. He doesn’t wish it.”

“Don’t say anything you’re going to regret.”

“And don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. Eat with your mouth closed. Do NOT slurp your stew or tea. This list goes on forever!”

“No, not forever.” A smile warmed his face. “Only until dinner is over. Now, will you please make your way GRACEFULLY over there? Don’t keep the King waiting.”

Layla avoided his eyes and turned away from him. she stood at the double doors. She knew he watched her. She raised her hand and tapped lightly on the doorway, it pulled open and she disappeared inside.

Markus stood and watched the door close in her wake. He felt sadness settling in his gut.

If Layla wasn’t so young and childish, she would have cherished the free days she’d had with him. For now, as much as he hated to admit it, everything was about to change.

And everything did change, rather quickly. So fast that Markus himself couldn’t believe it. It started with a letter. The King’s messenger brought news from the battlefield. The enemies were killing off their men faster than they could produce them. They needed help, whatever help they could get.

And so Markus, with a group of other noble workers like him, was needed. His horse was groomed, shoed and saddled. He received armor and weapons and orders to leave with the group of other soldiers early the next day.

He was disappointed. The orders were a little too early. He needed some time to say goodbye to Layla.

It wasn’t easy.

Markus stood in the ballroom, debating whether to send for the Princess or just leave. Just then the great doors swung open and Layla dashed inside. He turned to watch her. When she caught sight of him she froze and took in his new form, eyes wide as if frightened.

“Y-your clothes…” she began softly, inching her way towards him. “The—they are the ones you had on. When you came here.”

Markus studied her and saw once again, how grown up she’d become in nine years. Her face was molding into a strong determined bone structure, and her body had began to fill out. The lovely yellow taffeta gown she was wearing today caught the swelling curves of young womanhood. She was so beautiful. But would she be any grown up mentally by the time he returned? IF he returned?

Markus cleared his throat. “It’s required that I wear it. Even while I’m here.” He said, then with a slight grin. “I’ll miss you…Layla. I’ll think of you everyday.”

“Nessie told me.” Said Layla, as if not hearing his words. “ about your leaving and everything els. Why didn’t you?”

“I just received the news.”

He was surprised to see her eyes pooled with hurt.

“Are you alright?” He asked, taking a step towards her.

Layla looked as if she would break down and cry. Her voice rose and trembled when she tried to speak.

“I’m sorry Markus. I’m sorry for being mean. Is that why you’er leaving me? Is that why?”

Markus was a little surprised. He didn’t know that the girl was aware of her own rudeness. She always did things so obliviously.

He hung his head slightly out of embarrassment. “Layla, it’s not because of anything you’ve done. It’s just that…it’s duty. They need me—.”

“But… I need you!” She cried. Then in a flash she was running to him and throwing herself into his arms. Childish sobs rocked her body violently as she clung onto him like a leech.

Markus grew concerned. He had never heard her cry so deeply over nothing in particular—at his leaving? He could do nothing but hold her and awkwardly pat her head. Finally, when she had cried her heart out, Markus held Layla at arm’s length.

She stared at him. Her large eyes were red and swollen, and tears streaked her perfect complexion.

“Please don’t go.” She said, a few last drops of tears trembling on her lips. “I promise I’ll be good. Please don’t go, I shall die here all alone. Oh, so alone!”

“But you won’t be alone.” Markus assured her. “You shall have your father, your mother and Nessie and all the servants. You shan’t be alone, now.”

“Oh I most certainly will!” Layla cried out, vigorously shaking her head. She whispered harshly. “You don’t know!—Father shall ignore me and lock me away until I die of boredom. Nessie is old. And Mother—.”

Suddenly Katia stopped at the sound of a trumpet blowing from somewhere in the distance. Hearing the call, Markus patted her shoulders and released her gently.

“That is my call to depart.” He said shortly. Then, staring her carefully in the eyes he nodded and bid her well. “Grow up, my dear Princess, and do something great for this kingdom of yours. I shall be back, someday. But remember what I’ve taught you, Katia.”

“Markus—.”

“I must go—.”

“I do not wish to marry Rudolf. Father will make me!” Tears pooled down her trembling face, afresh. “Please don’t go. You won’t come back! Make them stop, please!”

She tried grabbing onto him again, but he held her at bay.

“I must leave now, my darling.” He half whispered. “Be brave, Layla. My little Princess. Remember all that I’ve taught you."

Then he turned to leave—hurriedly—as tears burned at the back of his eyes and threatened to spill down his cheeks. Marching determinedly through the elegant hallway, he could hear the Princess crying and begging after him. Crying for him not to leave, begging him to stay. Weeping uncontrollably.

But he could do nothing now.

As Markus stepped outside into the sunshine, he wiped a shaky hand across his eyes. He would miss that girl. She had been the candlelight in the last nine years of his life. She had been—was—his everything.

But now, the time had come. The elements of his old life were finally catching up to him. He needed to settle a few things.



***


After Markus departed, Layla could barely stand that day without bursting into tears, or the days after that. She stopped her usual childish plays that used to entertain her so much, and instead, sat at the great window looking down over the castle gate. She was waiting, watching for him to return. And she sat there many hours, and many days.

Everyone started referring to her as The Princess in the Window.

Even her father grew concerned. But that was the least of his problems—his foolish, childish daughter. He had a demanding war to fight, so he turned his attention on more important matters.

The Queen was always busy with something that did not involve Layla. She barely saw her.

When Layla’s wedding day came, the Princess would not budge from the window. Her Father threatened to carry her to the alter by force and send guards to get her. But Layla clung to the window and kicked and screamed for Markus until the entire castle heard it. It did not really matter in the end, because the bridegroom never showed up to his own wedding. What a puzzle the kingdom was in those dry scary months. No letter or message came to explain anything. The king suspected that his busyness partners had cut off their side of the deal without informing him.

He was furious.

It was a dull day, one afternoon, when a messenger arrived at the castle. Layla watched from the window as he entered the giant gates. Soon she heard the news that the man had brought. Prince Rudolf—her betrothed—was dead. He was on his way to meet her when enemy soldiers captured and killed him.

Layla’s parents were grieved. But Layla felt nothing.

And so the months wore on. Until Layla could no longer stand it. All the loneliness and waiting for Markus’s return wore her down, slowly. One day, she fell deathly ill. she insisted on having nothing but Markus at her side.

When the King refused, Layla began wasting away. It wasn’t until she was in a deathly fever and barely hanging onto her last breath when he relented, and send for the soldier Markus.

He came at once. Though it took many days to travel across the deserts between the border lines. But Layla was later told that he rode into the village quickly, and entered the castle with haste and came at once at her side.

But by this time she was far too gone, and the fever was bad. So Markus sat with her, and spoke to her gently as she slept. He clasped her tiny hand in his all through the night.

Murmurs and torches went up in the dark night, as everywhere in the kingdom people begged the gods for the Princess’s life.

As dawn broke on the horizon Layla awoke and opened her eyes. Seeing Markus’s strong, kind, beautiful face at her beside she sat up, startled. Thinking it was another dream she began to cry, for she had had many of such dreams, so real and vivid when he would sit there and talk to her.

“Layla, it is me. I am here, darling.” Said Markus, startled by her reaction as well. He came closer and touched her cheek tenderly, staring into those fierce eyes he had missed so dearly. He searched for a memory, a spark. But they were blank. His heart sunk.

“Do you not remember me?” He asked.

The Princess stared at him for a long time. Finally a flicker began somewhere behind the walls of her eyes, then a spark. Soon her entire face glowed with recognition. She smiled.

“Markus! It really is you.”

“Yes.” Said Markus, pleased. He held up his bird. “And guess who I brought.”

“Umbo!” Layla’s eyes beamed. Gathering the strength she moved and threw herself into Markus’s arms. Her thin, weak arms wrapped around his waist as she buried her head into his chest.

“I am so glad you are home. Safe and sound.” She mumbled against his shirt. Then her body tensed, and melted with a sigh. “I’ve missed you so.” Her voice trailed off and she seemed to have fallen back asleep.

Just from those four words Markus saw and knew that she had grown up. His Layla was not the same anymore. She had sat at the window and waited for him every day, for months. The very nature of the thing showed him how much she cared for him. HIM. A crippled peasant, now a wounded soldier. What in the world did he have to offer her? Nothing much. Nothing in money, wealth or class. No, only his loving protection.

Holding her warm soft body to himself, Markus allowed a quick smile of satisfaction. He could almost feel his body sighing with relief as the wight of the world seemed to be lifted from his shoulders.

She would be okay.