Misunderstood Hero: My Family Are All Villains

***

Layla sat by a window, her knees drawn to her chest, her eyes fixed on the Moons above.

She had been sitting there for hours, watching the pale crescents across the darkness, wondering where her husband had gone.

She wasn’t worried that something had happened to him.

Malik was an Angel. In her eyes, nothing in Devil’s Maw could hurt him.

The Demons couldn’t reach him. The invaders couldn’t touch him. Even the Order, with all its power, would need to send its strongest to even leave a scratch on his skin.

No, she was simply worried that he had left for somewhere very far again. That he had gone to do something incredible to save the world, with them being none the wiser.

Yes. He had done such a thing so many times that it became a common expectation.

Malik would disappear only to return with a problem solved that no one even knew existed.

He would bleed in silence, suffer in darkness, and accept no gratitude. That was her husband.

Layla pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the window.

’Where are you?’

A flutter of wings broke the silence.

They belonged to Sinbad, who flew through the open window and landed on the sill.

His crimson feathers caught the moonlight, making them and his pink eyes glow bright.

"Elder Brother’s location has been found. He’s in the West. Spotted walking the streets of Parsa."

Layla turned her head, her dark hair falling across her face.

"Are you sure?"

Sinbad nodded his little owl head.

"Yes. The Guard of the Fifth confirmed it."

Layla let out a sigh of relief.

The tension in her shoulders loosened while her hands unclenched from where they had been gripping her sleeves.

Though just as fast as it arrived, that ’relief’ turned to worry.

"To the West, huh..."

She looked back at the moons.

"Do you think... do you think he went there to meet with Scheherazade?"

It seemed that Scherzade’s love for Malik was common knowledge.

Sinbad tilted his head.

"Do you mean in a more personal capacity rather than just confirming the alliance? Do you truly think your husband would do that?"

Layla slowly shook her head, knowing Malik.

"No. Of course not."

She knew his honor, his duty, and his stubborn loyalty.

"A big part of me hates that he’s there, spending time with her."

Her arms wrapped around her own body.

"But another part... much smaller, is almost glad."

Sinbad waited, seeming to have expected such words.

"I don’t deserve the love he has for me. Or the duty. The loyalty. Not after what I did."

Sinbad sighed.

"How many times will you say that, hm?"

He waddled closer along the windowsill, his claws clicking against the stone.

"What you did is already commendable. All fingers pointed at Elder Brother being evil. The fact that you still, despite it all, didn’t join the enemy was more than enough."

Layla looked at him with downcast eyes.

"How about you, then? How about Azeem and Dunya? You stayed with him until the bitter end... Well, you and Dunya did. Azeem was all but forced out by my husband at the end. He made him help that failure of a coalition; otherwise, they wouldn’t have even reached him."

Sinbad shook his little head.

"We four are not the same. You can’t compare us—especially not us two."

He looked deeply at her.

"We knew his secrets... some of them at least. We knew that everything he did was for the greater good. All you knew was that despite saving your traveling caravan, he... he killed your father."

Layla’s breath caught.

She looked down at the floor as her hands trembled in her lap.

The memory rose unbidden, the blood, the blade, and Malik kneeling before Rehan’s body.

She had hated him for so long, and she had let that hate fester, grow large enough to consume her entirely.

"You didn’t know that he was forced to make a choice. Either you... or your father. You didn’t know that what he did was a mercy."

Every word out of the owl’s beak hit her almost like a club.

"You didn’t know how much that choice broke him. How he pushed you away on purpose to protect you from knowing. To protect you from dying alongside him, his Silent Requiem."

Sinbad stepped closer and raised his right wing.

"So please..."

He patted her arm gently, the feathers soft against her skin.

"Don’t blame yourself."

Layla remained silent, mulling over it all.

"You have another chance now. You can make things right. I’ve already seen how he interacted with your daughter. He loves her. He can love you too. He can love us all."

Layla finally looked up.

Her eyes were red, but she hadn’t cried.

She promised her not to cry needlessly.

"What about you?"

Sinbad dryly chuckled.

"Me?"

He looked away, towards the Moons.

"Well... it seems the days when I always sat on his shoulders are gone. I’m no longer connected to the man who saved my life. To the man who I owe this second chance to, owl-bodied or not."

His voice grew quieter.

"Once, I lied to myself. I believed that which connected our Souls remained and that this disconnection would end upon his return."

He shook his head.

"Such folly. No."

In that moment, he appeared like the saddest being in all the worlds.

"No longer will I always know his secrets. No longer will I help him when no one is there but Dunya. That era is over."

He turned back to Layla.

"I believe I have become what you once were. Someone he pushed away to keep safe."

If only the bird and Layla knew the truth.

If only they knew that Malik was pushing everyone away now, only to ensure his secret remained hidden. That he wore a mask not out of indifference to them but out of fear.

That every cold word, every distant look, and every moment of silence was a shield he had raised to protect them from the truth of his weakness and their Fated collective demise.

Such grand misunderstandings.

The two sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Until, all of a sudden, loud sounds were heard.

Distant screaming, cheering, and hollering.

A crowd had gathered for the execution.

Traitors were about to meet the blade.

Sinbad’s head turned towards the square.

"It seems they’re executing the traitors now. Do you wish to go? It would cleanse our palates a little."

Layla nodded.

She rose from the window and walked to the door while Sinbad launched from the sill and glided to her shoulder.

Together, they left the room.

...

Layla walked through the crowded streets, her cloak pulled tight around her shoulders.

The hood covered her hair and shadowed her face, ensuring that no one recognized her.

And it did indeed.

No one looked twice at the woman in the dark grey cloak moving against the tide of excited citizens.

She preferred it that way.

Around her, the people screamed for blood. They shouted the names of the traitors, cursed their families, and demanded justice. Some of them threw flowers at the feet of the guards. Others spat on the cobblestones where the prisoners had been paraded.

"Death to the traitors!"

"Long live the Sultan!"

"Cut off their heads!"

Layla’s face remained still beneath her hood.

She had seen too much death to be moved by more.

But, upon reaching the square, her eyes were not on the platform.

They were on the edge of the crowd.

There, half-hidden in the shadows of a crumbling wall, stood a man.

A large build, golden hair, golden eyes, and dark royal clothes.

It was Malik.

Her husband and Sultan.

The man she had sworn to protect with her life.

He stood apart from the crowd, his arms crossed, watching the execution.

The guillotine rose against the night sky, and the two traitors were in position.

An executioner raised his hand.

The crowd turned silent.

That hand fell.

But Layla still watched Malik.

His golden eyes reflected the guillotine.

They reflected the blades and the falling heads.

And behind that reflection...

His eyes were trembling.