Chapter 172: All That Scheherazade Wanted

Malik sat back on the Golden Throne.

Before him stood his family, and alongside them, his commanders and strongest fighters.

Azeem. Aladdin. Hakim. Duban.

Even Huda. Safira. Noor. Zafar.

Many others of high rank, gathered together in a hall that suddenly felt far smaller than it actually was.

The Order had declared war.

The strongest faction in existence, the one that had spent years pushing weaker factions to fight their battles for them, had finally stepped out from behind that curtain.

They were coming themselves.

Which meant Malik would be facing multiple Angels.

One alone had nearly killed him, had injured his very Soul in ways that still ached on quiet nights.

Two. Three. Four.

An impossible fight, by any reasonable measure.

The group had been gathered for hours now, voices rising and falling as they debated strategy, resources, formations, anything that might tilt the odds even slightly in their favor.

Judging by the increasingly grim expressions around the room, nobody had found a solution that didn’t end in disaster.

Not alone, at least.

There was another option.

A way to strengthen their position through alliance, through ties deeper than mere politics.

But something kept everyone present from actually saying the name out loud.

The reason sat quietly near Malik’s side.

Layla.

Every time someone opened their mouth to suggest it, their eyes would flick towards her first, and the words would die before they ever left their throat.

But then, eventually, Layla herself stepped forward.

She looked at Malik directly, her expression steady despite whatever it clearly cost her to say what came next.

"You should marry Scheherazade."

The hall went quiet.

"She built our Holy Armaments, our weapons capable of true annihilation. They’re still under repair from the last time we used them against the Demons, and normally that wouldn’t be a problem. But we don’t have the luxury of normal timelines anymore."

She paused.

"She won’t speed up those repairs for free. We both know what she’ll ask for instead."

"She’s right, you know?"

A new but familiar voice interrupted.

Malik turned, knowing who to expect.

Of course, it was Scheherazade.

She stood near the hall’s entrance, her form woven from wood and leaves yet unmistakably human in every gesture and expression.

News of the Order’s declaration had clearly already reached her.

"If you wish me to expedite the repairs, you must marry me."

Malik glanced around the room. At his wife. At his daughter. At every commander and fighter who suddenly found the floor very interesting.

A clear signal.

They filed out quickly, one after another, even his immediate family, until only Dunya remained, tucked quietly near the far wall.

Malik looked back at Scheherazade.

"Woman, are you crazy?"

She giggled.

"Crazy? No. Isn’t it crazy if I don’t make use of the cards I have?"

"Don’t you think doing this would make me hate you?"

"That’s fine."

She was utterly unbothered.

"If I can force you to marry me, I can force you to love me."

She smiled sweetly, as if what she’d just said wasn’t completely insane.

"I’ve lived too long a life. I haven’t needed something, or someone, as much as I need you."

Malik already understood Scheherazade was dangerous, calculating, willing to bend circumstances to get exactly what she wanted.

But this was a new level entirely. Her true form couldn’t leave the West, and the fact that she’d spent considerable power just to travel here and make this demand in person told him exactly how deep her obsession actually ran.

This wasn’t his first time hearing about the Holy Armaments.

His time buried in the library had taught him plenty.

But the finer details of the relic itself, whether it was even worth what she was asking, remained a mystery to him.

Before he could voice any of those doubts, Scheherazade cut in.

"You have a way of producing unlimited Rukh, don’t you?"

Malik would have shown surprise at that, if he could.

He couldn’t.

"My creation was made for you. With them, and my help, I can assure you, even multiple Angels won’t be a problem."

He stared at her, deadpan.

"And you want to ask more of me for that help."

Her smile widened further.

"Yes, of course! And you’ll accept, won’t you?"

Malik let out a long sigh.

"What do you want?"

Without any shift in expression, she said it plainly:

"You are going to have sex with me."

"..."

"You can tell her that you’re going to put your cock inside another woman. But since you’re not cheating on her, or anything like that, she won’t need to worry."

"Scheherazade."

"You hate hearing such vulgar words, don’t you?"

"If you know that, why do you keep saying them?"

"Because you’re doing bad things too. Women are more sensitive to this sort of thing than you’d think. We notice faster. Weren’t you already trying to rank the two of us against each other in your head?"

At her words, Malik raised a brow.

Her aim had landed true.

"Even if I tried. I’m confident enough in my own charm not to be jealous of a woman from the East."

That woman came from humble origins.

Insignificant rank, insignificant history, at least in Scheherazade’s eyes.

Being jealous of someone like that would be beneath her.

"So if you want a harmonious family, don’t discriminate. Treat us fairly. Otherwise, it’ll only breed the opposite effect. I don’t want to be treated as less. I hate being treated as less. Why should I be? You know how I’ve lived, don’t you?"

"..."

"I can discuss Runes with you in depth. Even if I disagree with your politics, you can share your grievances about your territory, the direction it should take, and I’ll listen. When you’re hungry, you won’t need to worry about the menu. I’ll eat whatever you want."

Scheherazade reached out and gently took hold of the hem of his clothes.

"There won’t even be an awkward silence between us. The books you read, the plays you enjoy, even if you change the subject suddenly, I can follow along with all of it."

"Scheherazade."

"It’s fine to put her first. Just don’t treat us unevenly. When you give Layla a gift, give me the same, in time. Simple things too. A hand through her hair means the same thing done through mine."

"..."

"I’m fine with her experiencing things with you first. But I don’t want to go without something she’s had. Tangible or not."

She smoothed down the fabric she’d been clutching, lowering her hand.

"It’s easy to deal with me. So don’t make it complicated."

Her words carried more weight than her tone let on, more emotion buried beneath the playful delivery than Malik had expected.

He stayed silent for a long moment.

Only after a minute went by did he finally speak:

"I won’t let that happen."

"Mn."

That was all that Scheherazade wanted.