The message was clear to Aloe. Mother was one of them. She did not know what to be more saddened from, that Aya was dead or that message. Of course she was bound to be dead, she lived more than she had originally expected after hearing Naila's account, but hearing of someone's death gave it weight. Aloe didn't need to hear it from the Sultanzade's mouth to know Aya had been dead for a long time already. Perhaps that should have brought enough closure, but that message almost felt like a curse.
Mother was one of them.
It hadn't been Jafar the only assassin in the family, but also Mirah.
Some things clicked into place, especially the housewife's behavior, after hearing this revelation, but then she thought: Does it even matter? And those thoughts weren't born from the fact that all of this no longer mattered as it had been centuries, but because she had killed a part of that family. She had killed Jafar, so she had no right to judge someone, only to be judged.
But the scariest of those facts was that she no longer cared. For better or worse, she had decided to pardon herself for the man's death, but now she realized there might be a worse, darker reason behind it. A reason she loathed.
Aloe doubted she cared about life any longer.
Life in general, life in its absence, and all its possible connotations.
The vegetable woman sighed and rubbed her eyes. They had been unblinking for minutes now. Not that it mattered.
"I…" Naila spoke softly, weakly. "Can you tell me what it means?"
Aloe should have been angered by that interruption, but she only saw a widow wondering about the dying words of her wife. In a way, it reminded Aloe of that deathly expression her mother Sharazhad made when her father Karaim died. That… solace. It almost felt like a full circle, for that death was what kickstarted this chain of events that brought her two hundred years into the future to lament herself.
The vegetable woman wished she had never picked that booklet titled 'cultivation technique'.
As painful as that regret was, Aloe embraced it as it was warmer than the Oblivion that waited for her every time she lost her trail of thought.
"It means that Mirah was an assassin. Jafar was too," she responded softly, tiredly.
"Ah," Naila's answer was something between an exclamation and a whimper. "I was aware that assassins hid everywhere, but I did not expect them to be that close. At least… she was not one." The bicentenary monarch shed a tear.
The Sultanzade's eyes shone with pain, hate, and sadness. Aloe saw and understood her hate for the assassins. They weren't the same type of evil as Aaliyah, but their stupid ruthlessness was an evil of its own. They were but a cancer of civilization.
"Thank you for sharing your narration with me," Aloe stood up as she spoke.
"No," the calipha stood up too. "It is me who must thank you. I truly believe that the world can benefit from your creations, and you have brought me a bit of closure. I have been gnawing at those last words from my Aya for more than a century now. So thank you, Aloe. Truly."
Naila had once threatened to kill her. She now thanked her with all her heart. A weaker woman would have thought that people change, but Aloe knew better. Horrible people don't change, and Naila wasn't horrible, she was just bad. She had enjoyed and abused people in ways no sane person would, consensual or not, so she was not a nice person. And that was without taking into account all the blood the woman had spilled. But Aloe was so tired that she could no longer care, whilst she wasn't horrible, that was enough for her.
As the vegetable woman put her hand on the doorknob, the calipha spoke for one last time.
"This is not a secret, but… I felt like I should tell you that Rani is still alive."
To that, Aloe responded with a simple "I know."
Aloe Ayad left the office of the Calipha unsure of what to do now. The darkness inside of her kept growing with each step, and the narration hadn't brought her the closure she had wished for. It was marvelous knowing that Aaliyah had died and that Aya had lived a good life, but it wasn't enough for her. She had lived for two centuries with a quest in mind, and she had been denied it. The only thing that could bring her comfort now was that of the little child she had saved a few weeks ago.
Xochipilli had been an excuse from the very beginning, and he continued to be one, but with every step she took, the bigger her dependency on that smile that adorated her grew.
Yet as she opened the door to their chamber, she found a horrible image.
The Pincerarean maid was assaulting him.
Ah. Her mind and heart completely darkened. It is bound to happen again and again, isn't it? She almost ended it all here and there. Instead, with preternatural grace and speed, she drew Xochipilli to sleep with the Dream Spore and grabbed the woman by her skull, just like she had done with that slaver the day she had come out of her self-imposed exile.
"Give me a reason not to kill you," the Mother of Plants spoke plainly.
She didn't know why she hadn't killed the woman yet. Her life mattered not to her.
"It is a common practice, madame!" The maid shouted with all her might as her eyes became infused with fear and tears. "We do it to help the young masters to go sleep peacefully!"
"Is that so?" Aloe's voice portrayed no emotion. Simple and complete Oblivion.
"Yes! It is not even a trend of the palace! I have worked in a private state before and we did the same! Many maids did too, madame!" The maid's eyes shone in desperation as she couldn't understand what she was doing wrong.
It brought her a kernel of relief to know that it had nothing to do with Nurture, that she hadn't been trying to reap him, that it just was society being constantly rotten no matter what the era was. Not that it stopped her from crushing the woman's skull.
The Pincerarean maid's lifeless body fell on the ground with a thud. Aloe couldn't help but think. Think of many things. But then she saw the partially naked boy and she knew that he needed her assistance. By her own will, the pieces of blood and bones on her hand slipped neatly to the floor and left no trace on her body. Now that she was clean of filth, she changed Xochipilli's clothes for pajamas and neatly covered his sleeping body with a blanket.
She continued thinking for a while.
Her disciple had just been assaulted by this rotten world. She couldn't allow that. Something had to change, but was death the way? How could debauchery be purged?
There was a lot to think about.
Xochipilli woke up perfectly rested. He had only had such a good rest a handful of times in his life, and all of those times were recent. But his memories before going to sleep were… blurry.
He had been studying like he had been doing all these last days with the maid that had been assigned to them until night arrived. The maid brought him to the dining room to eat, and once they were satiated, but once they had arrived at his and Aloe's chambers, something weird happened when the maid was about to change his clothes.
For some reason, his member stood up.
The boy didn't understand it as this was the first time it happened, but the maid comforted him by saying it was something natural. She asked if he wanted help with it, and because he saw no problem with it and the maid's gaze wasn't portraying the sheer evil of the conquerors, he accepted.
That moment Aloe barged into the room and disappeared at the same time. As much as he tried to recall anything more, he couldn't remember a thing beyond a crunching, wet sound.
"Morning, sleepyhead~" Aloe spoke once she noticed he was awake.
"Morning, Aloe!" He responded enthusiastically.
"My business here is over, we will go back to Sadina, is that okay with you?"
"Of course!" He would never press himself onto his goddess.
"Perfect! Let's get going then!" The goddess announced with a radiant tone and gestures.
Xochipilli would never press himself onto his goddess nor ask questions, even when he noticed the trace of coagulated blood on the corner of the bedsheets but couldn't help but question himself if that was right. Surely it couldn't?
This is actually a thing that happened in the Victorian Era (even amongst comonfolk and just not rich people), but cultures change and these acts are, obviously, not well-seen now. Especially as the "justification" it had for exisiting has been proven wrong.
Of course, Aloe cares not for cultures.
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