Merv, 9th Century — The Era of Caliph Al-Ma'mun, 815 CE
On the wide grasslands of Merv, Aisha bint Al-Fadl urged her horse forward, laughing as she left her companion struggling to keep up.
"Aisha, slow down—hah… I'm tired!" Amirah called out, nearly breathless.
Aisha smiled, lifting her chin as the wind tugged playfully at her veil.
"Hah… that girl," she murmured. "Train harder, then." Amirah laughed weakly. "You always say that."
"You'll have to ride faster, Amirah. I expect better from you," she added.
Amirah smacked her horse's flank and laughed. "I won't steal that joy from you today, Sayyidah!"
Strands of Aisha's hair slipped loose beneath her veil, tugged free by the wind crossing the plains of Merv.
Today felt different, though she could not have said why—only that it did.
Merv already seemed farther away—an unsettling thought she brushed aside.
Perhaps that was why she raced Amirah so fiercely— as if this might be the last time.
Behind them, the mountains of Khurasan stood silent and unmoving, like something she should have said goodbye to… but hadn't.
As the Caliph's trusted vizier, Al-Fadl ibn Sahl maintained a private guard force trained within his own residence.
The next morning, the courtyard rang with the sound of wood striking wood, steel clashing against steel.
Aisha stood at the edge, eyes sparkling.
"May I try?" she asked eagerly.
Haidar sighed. "Slowly, Sayyidati."
She mimicked the soldier before her—jumping, swinging— then smack.
Her hand landed squarely on Haidar's cheek.
"Ow."
Aisha froze. "I—I didn't mean to!"
Haidar rubbed his cheek and laughed. "Your enthusiasm is dangerous, Sayyidah."
"If I weren't the Vizier's daughter," Aisha said brightly, "I would have married a warrior as strong as you."
Silence fell.
Haidar stiffened. The soldiers stopped mid-motion.
"Sayyidah," one of them muttered, "we are not prepared to die today."
Haidar let out an awkward laugh. "Please… don't joke like that."
Aisha only laughed, entirely unbothered—and clearly pleased with herself.
During the break, she returned.
"Can I learn now?"
"We're eating," Haidar protested.
"Just a moment."
Five minutes later, the soldiers surrendered.
Aisha smiled in satisfaction. Truly exhausted—every one of them.
By morning, the streets of Merv buzzed with life.
Aisha walked through the market with her guards and Zahra close beside her. Merchants shouted their prices, spices perfumed the air, and the crowd pressed in from all sides.
Then Aisha slowed.
Near a fabric stall stood a woman in worn clothing, clutching a small bundle to her chest. A man leaned toward her, his voice sharp.
"That debt stains my name. You will pay for it."
"It was for our child," the woman whispered.
The man laughed— and struck her.
The sound cut through the market like a blade.
She staggered, instinctively turning to shield the bundle in her arms.
People glanced over. Then looked away.
Aisha's breath caught. Her fingers tightened around her sleeve.
"Is this how you guard your honor?" she asked.
Her voice was calm. Cold.
"This is a matter between husband and wife," the man snapped.
Aisha stepped forward.
"No," she said firmly. "Such words have been used to justify cruelty for far too long."
When the man raised his hand again, Aisha moved first—her heel struck the back of his hand, sharp and precise.
"Do not touch her."
Her guards were already beside her.
The man paled. He backed away, then disappeared into the crowd.
Only then did the market's noise slowly return.
Aisha waited.
The woman's hands were trembling.
When they finally stilled, Aisha spoke.
"I cannot promise you safety," she said quietly. "But if you wish to work… come."
The woman nodded. "Yes, Sayyidati. My name is Nadira."
Zahra leaned closer. "My lady… that was dangerous."
She hesitated. "If that man had companions—"
"I know," Aisha replied softly, offering a small smile.
Later, inside the litter, the city noise faded behind them.
Aisha grinned. "Zahra… If Haidar were to hear of this, he would never let me hear the end of it."
Zahra closed her eyes briefly.
"If Haidar knew," she said evenly, "he would faint before being impressed."
She sighed, shaking her head. Sixteen years old—and already impossible to restrain.
That afternoon, Mariam handed Aisha a letter.
"From Baghdad," she said.
Aisha read it and smiled wryly.
Layla's mischief was unmistakable.
Don't cause trouble before you arrive. And don't buy the entire market, or Uncle Al-Fadl will go bankrupt.
"Layla never changes," Aisha muttered. "But she's right. I do love jewelry—and food."
Before departing, Aisha approached Amirah.
"I will miss you," she said softly.
"I will too," Amirah replied. "We still owe each other one last race."
"Train harder, then."
Amirah smiled through her tears. "May Allah keep you safe."
"Insha'Allah."
When Aisha turned to the soldiers, her composure broke entirely.
"I will miss you all!" she sobbed, wiping her nose without dignity.
The soldiers exchanged glances.
"We will miss you too, Sayyidati. But we shall follow you soon."
Hearing that, Aisha froze
"…Then why did I cry like that?"
Laughter slipped through disciplined smiles.
"Consider it a rehearsal," she said stiffly.
Haidar sighed. "Unnecessary, my lady."
--
The journey began—quietly, without ceremony. From Merv to Baghdad.
When the towers of Bayt al-Hikmah finally rose before them, Aisha fell silent.
This city would change everything.
How, she did not know—nor did she try to.
Inside the curtained litter of the Al-Fadl household, Aisha sat with her hands resting loosely on her lap. The sway of the ride was steady, almost dull. It should have calmed her. It didn't.
Her thoughts kept circling back to her father.
Soon, he would leave again—returning to Khurasan with the Caliph. She already knew that part. What unsettled her was what followed. She and her mother would stay behind, in Baghdad. A city she had not yet learned how to belong to.
Days passed on the road. She stopped counting them after a while. The numbers felt unimportant.
Then, at last, the land ahead shifted.
From a distance, Baghdad appeared. Its gates rose high against the sky, solid and unyielding. Beyond them stood the towers of Bayt al-Hikmah. They did not gleam. They simply stood there—quiet, watchful.
When the procession slowed and finally stopped, Aisha leaned forward slightly. Before them stretched their residence. A garden opened wide, shaded by pomegranate trees bent with fruit. Water traced narrow stone paths, gathering in an octagonal pool at the center. The surface reflected the sky, pale and still.
Servants waited at the gate. They bowed as the family arrived. Some carried vessels lined with gold, filled with rose water. The scent reached Aisha before anything else—soft, faint, almost familiar.
Then came the sound of hooves.
From beyond the gate, several horsemen approached. One man dismounted without haste. He wore a white turban and a flowing robe. His posture was firm, practiced. The resemblance to Al-Fadl was clear, though age had sharpened his expression.
Al-Hasan ibn Sahl.
Beside him stood Rabiah, composed and graceful, her robe tinted a gentle pink.
Al-Fadl stepped forward.
"Assalāmu 'alaikum, Hasan."
"Wa 'alaikumussalām. Ahlan wa sahlan, my brother."
Rabiah turned toward Salma.
"The journey must have been tiring. May this home bring you comfort."
Salma inclined her head.
"Your kindness honors us. May Allah reward you."
Aisha's attention drifted to the young man beside Al-Hasan. He stood quietly, taller than she remembered. His dark robe was threaded with fine gold embroidery. His gaze was sharp, measuring.
Muhammad ibn Al-Fadl.
He stepped forward and kissed his father's hand.
"Assalāmu 'alaikum, Father."
"Wa 'alaikumussalām," Al-Fadl replied, resting his hand on his son's shoulder. "You came at the right time."
"I wouldn't let my family enter Baghdad unprepared," Muhammad said. His smile was brief.
Aisha studied him. He seemed older. Not just in years—but in the way he carried himself.
Their eyes met.
Then he smirked.
"You've grown uglier, Aisha."
She stared at him, then crossed her arms.
"Akhi, is that your greeting? After all this time?"
He lifted an eyebrow.
"I'm joking."
Her expression softened, though she did not smile.
"You could at least pretend you missed me."
He let out a short laugh and extended his hand.
"Welcome to Baghdad."
She took it. Unexpected warmth settled in her chest.
"Thank you," she said. "I hope this city is kinder than I imagine."
"That depends," he replied, "on how you choose to see it."
A familiar voice cut through the moment.
"Aisha!"
She turned.
"Astaghfirullah, Layla—you nearly stopped my heart," she said, laughing despite herself.
Layla grinned.
"Oh, don't exaggerate. You have no idea how dull Baghdad has been without you."
Al-Fadl released a slow breath.
"In a few months," he said, quietly, "I will return to Khurasan."
Al-Hasan nodded.
"Then live well while you remain. Baghdad gives much—though rarely all at once."