shay mitchell as princess jasmine.
From Arabian Nights
By (c) Min GyuHa
SOMEBODY FUND THIS ADAPTATION OF AN ADAPTATION!!!
The Princess of Montpensier (2010)
My name is Mozenrath.
I have lived and died.
I live again.
I have loved and lost.
I have loved and wed.
I have a son not of my flesh.
I have a brother who is only half mine.
I am a king, a husband, brother and a father.
And yet it still did not come naturally. He would ask these questions again and again to himself, and there would always be a minute of reflection before the answer came to him, as if he were reading a book and trying to remember the words.
He remembered reading. The touch of the page, the sound of them brushing against each other as they were turned, the weight of the book. He remembered everything.
He also remembered waking in the pool, gasping for breath as he rose to the surface, breaking into the silence. He remembered looking about with his new eyes and new brain. A skeleton in the throne…a skeleton by his side.
How long had he been…alive? He knew not. He slept when he was tired, but did not hunger, did not thirst. He wore only the black robes he woke in, and they never dirtied. He had explored the hall and found doors that did not open. So he sat, day after day and remembered. He didn’t know when he would leave…or if he would leave.
But why would he be brought back to life without some…purpose? Some reason to that end?
He threaded his sash through his fingers as he thought. I am Mozenrath…I have lived and died…
So many emotions. So many evil stirrings in his heart…or were. He felt them like an echo, like feeling the spray of the sea rather than the wave crashing against your bones. Hate…a great deal of hate and fear. Hurting, much more of that. Loving, but loving that brought pain. That was confusing—oh…no. It was not. To hunger after what was not his. That was logical.
He had been very logical hadn’t he?
Did he have friends? Y…yes. Yes he did. A few. Power was his friend…a few people he met here and there…
He had a friend that had died…a friend…
I must go, he thought, standing. I must return. I must journey back even if it shall take me too long…I will go to Hennutwey. I shall see her first and figure out what my purpose is. I ahve been given new life…I must use it.
It is only logical.
He stood then, brushing invisible dirt from his robes. He went to the skeleton, kneeling and saying a soft prayer (after a moment of recollection), he went to pat the pockets of the corpse. He saw the gauntlet. After perhaps a half an hour of thinking, weighing the pros and cons, he took the red sash from the robes of the skeleton and picked up the glove, wrapping it tightly and tucking it into his belt.
His hand found his sword again, tested it’s weight and tied it to his hip. He considered the dirty cloak, clung to with dust-now-mud. He begged forgiveness and took the king’s cloak and his crown. Not for looting..but for safekeeping. Such an important symbol should not be buried with the past. He took the garnet as well and pinned it to the throat of his cloak. He took his wedding ring and washed it in the glowing water before returning it to his finger, sliding it home.
He lifted the hood of the cloak and walked along the wall until the stone moved. He grimaced, and it felt natural. He grimaced and pulled the cloak down over his new born eyes and stepped out into the light.
I am Mozenrath, he thought. I have lived and died.
I live again.