An Epic Story Hannon And Binti

"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 at the time, 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.

It was ten years after that day, a child I was no more. I was now a woman, I had celebrated my 18th birthday only some months back, and while my father's cryptic message to me on that day had only caused me slight worry, I had not imagined I would be hearing this today.

"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.