Chapter Text
She flailed helplessly in a whirlwind. Unbearable golden light and biting sand... then stillness. Tamina opened her eyes, looking with dazed confusion at the dust and banners of the Persian army approaching Alamut, holding the dagger tight in her hand.
Staggering, dizzy, she collapsed in a chair, trying to calm her racing heart. Struggling to control the sick horror of watching him fall after being stabbed in the side by Nizam only a moment before. But Dastan had forced Nizam's hand from the dagger and taken the evil traitor with him into the abyss. Leaving her to stop the flow of the Sands of Time, praying it was not too late.
She and Dastan had done it. They'd saved the world. But now she was apparently back at the beginning. Slowly, her mind adjusted to the new reality. Tamina realized she could prevent the violence of the city being taken by force. But there will still be Nizam and his Hassansins to deal with. And Dastan.
A plan took shape.
"Gather the Guardians and the Council. There is much to tell you and we haven't much time," she commanded.
One hour later, everything was set in motion, her people braced for what was to come. Her immediate goals were to forestall the siege, break through Dastan's natural distrust and get him on her side.
He does not trust me. He does not love me, she reminded herself over and over again.
She'd have to use everything she knew about him and more to convince him to believe her, to trust her. The 'more' made her decidedly uncomfortable. Using her beauty, his attraction to her, to manipulate him. But she had to get under his skin as quickly as possible.
Preparing herself for the coming ordeal, she dressed in a simple white gown and girded herself in body armour, a sword strapped to her side. The Dagger of Time hidden underneath the breastplate at the small of her back. The princes must not doubt that she was sovereign here and spoke on behalf of her people. To enforce this fact, she also donned her little-used crown, a simple circlet of gold.
Tamina went down to the wall to observe the situation and have a last word with her inner circle: Asoka, the captain of the guard; Lady Ravan, the next ranking Guardian, and Ikram, the speaker of the council.
The setting sun painted the desert red while the Persians made their camp just outside the range of catapults. As if we had any, she thought sourly.
"Remember, if he can be convinced, you can trust Prince Dastan. If my plan doesn't work, no matter the consequences, kill Nizam and hunt down his Hassansins. Especially the one who betrayed us. Captain Asoka, have you sent reinforcements to the Guardian Temple and ordered the evacuation?"
"Yes, Highness," he answered.
Ravan said with a question in her voice, "You have not given the order to bury the Sandglass."
"No, when the Persians find the catacombs filled in, their suspicions will be raised and they'll dig it out. That's what happened last time at Nizam's urging. I intend to show it to Prince Dastan and then let the sands go."
"You are resolved to tell him everything?" Ikram asked with a hint of disapproval.
"Yes. He saved us, he saved the world. This Dastan can't be so different than the other," she said almost to herself, hoping it was true.
At that same moment, the three princes were studying the city to decide on the best strategy for their attack.
"The walls are formidable," muttered Garsiv. A flash of gold caught his eye, and he trained his spyglass at the rampart facing them. "We are being observed," he said, handing the glass to Tus.
"The ruler is indeed a woman, a beautiful one."
"At least her body is," joked Dastan, who was looking now. The armour she wore stirred his curiosity, but she was too far away to see her face clearly. The impression was one of beauty, however. When she left the battlement, Dastan focused on the wall by the Eastern gate and had an idea. With a smirk twisting his lips, he thought, Should I ask permission or just do it?
Tus had turned away to return to the royal tent when they heard a trumpet sound. The city gate opened, and they saw the woman from the rampart walking out alone, turning to watch the gate close with a creaky rumble. Leaving her alone, unprotected.
Garsiv raised an eyebrow. "Unexpected."
Tus glanced at Dastan, who shrugged. "A clear offer of parley. Better go see what she wants."
Along with many of their soldiers, the three princes and their uncle rode to meet her. As they halted before Tamina, still mounted and towering over her, the men couldn't help staring. She stood calmly, with haughty dignity and an undercurrent of irritation that she had to crane her neck to look up at them.
She regarded them all coolly but let her gaze linger on Dastan with an unreadable emotion on her face and he frowned, surprised by her attention. She's beautiful... too beautiful. Warm brown eyes and a luscious mouth, she regarded them with innate pride. Clad in her gleaming armour, she made him think of Ishtar, the goddess of war and sex.
Tamina trembled at Dastan's knotted brow and sharp blue eyes. Serious for once, regarding her with impersonal, wary curiosity. Four hours ago she had watched in horror, helpless, as he fell to his death.
Mastering her churning emotions, finally she spoke. "I am Princess Tamina, monarch and high priestess of this holy city." She looked them each in the eye, one by one. "Princes of Persia, you have been told we have forges here and have betrayed our neutrality by selling weapons to your enemies. We do not, we have not. This is false information."
Tamina glared directly at Nizam as she said this, and his black eyes narrowed. Yes, you viper, she thought in cold fury. Wondering how I learned of your subterfuge?
Turning her attention to Tus, she continued. "My words alone will not convince you. To avoid needless destruction and bloodshed, I place myself in your custody and give you free rein to enter Alamut. To search for yourselves."
Tamina unsheathed her sword and handed it, hilt first, up to Tus. The symbolic gesture of surrender, which he accepted with a solemn nod.
"Try not to make a mess," she couldn't help adding with biting sarcasm.
Raising her arm as the signal to reopen the gate, she observed their reactions to her easy capitulation. Tus was bemused, Nizam looked smugly pleased, Dastan puzzled and Garsiv suspicious.
"Shall we go in?" she asked.
Garsiv growled, and the other men hesitated, obviously understanding it as a warning.
"You expect a trap," she sighed. "Very well, Prince Garsiv." She turned to Dastan, looking up at him. "I will ride with you as hostage. Put a knife to my throat if you must," she grumbled huffily.
She put a foot on his stirrup, reaching out her hand with serene confidence. When he just looked at it blankly, she snapped, "Dastan!"
He blinked and pulled her up behind him in a smooth, natural motion, as if they had done it a hundred times. Which of course we have, she smiled to herself.
Before, riding with him had been annoying, awkward, and finally comforting. She would hiss angry complaints in his ear about the heat or her hunger, lean against his solid back and doze, tease him about his poor riding skills. He'd complain about her hair blowing into his face or whine about how unfair it was that she could sleep while riding, but he couldn't. The bittersweet memory of bickering or laughing together. How he softly caressed her arm curled around his waist.
As the soldiers went before them, Tamina took a moment to enjoy being close to him, inhaling his scent of sand and sweat, closing her eyes in pleasure, reassuring herself that he lived. Dastan was highly aware of her behind him, but misinterpreted her deep intake of breath.
"I apologize if my stench offends you," he sneered.
Tamina wanted to throw him off balance, to break through his defenses, so she allowed herself to give in to temptation, wrapping her arms tight around his chest, pressing herself against the hard armour covering his back. She nuzzled into his bare shoulder with her cheek, letting her lips brush light as a feather against his naked skin.
Dastan gasped, stiffening in shock. He heard her make a kind of husky hum deep in her throat and turned to glare at her, their faces only inches apart, breath mingling. He felt flustered and tried to hide it with a smirk, raising a mocking eyebrow. Tamina smiled wistfully at him before putting a proper distance between them again, resting her hands lightly at his waist.
Night had fallen by the time they entered the silent city. Lit by torchlight, the princes saw the people of Alamut standing quietly, lining the road up to the palace to watch them go by. Tamina smiled reassuringly at her people as she passed and they smiled in return, but the mood was anxious and subdued. The only sound was the horses' hooves on stone and a proclamation being called out.
"The Persians are welcome here. A search must be carried out to guarantee peace. Do not resist them! Be patient and helpful."
Hearing the decree, Tus turned to the general who rode near him. "Be thorough but gentle. Hurt no one or there will be hell to pay."
Dastan was still achingly aware of Tamina at his back, could feel her body shift into his lightly as they rode, her breath teasing his neck. He felt her sigh of relief at his brother's command. She had taken a great risk, letting them in, depending on their honor. But she did not seem to fear them. And her casual familiarity with him, in particular, unsettled him in a very personal way.
When they halted at the palace gate, Tamina took support from Dastan's shoulder, dismounting easily with a little jump. Garsiv's horse came up behind her to nibble at her braided hair. Without thinking, she turned to give him a cuddle and a kiss on his satin black nose.
"Behave yourself, Aksh!" she laughed as he snuffled happily into her neck.
The affection Aksh was giving her was unheard of. The horse was widely acknowledged to be as grumpy as his master. Still smiling, Tamina looked around to see astonishment on the faces of all the men surrounding her. None more so than Garsiv, who was so surprised he could only grunt.
"You see Garsiv?" Dastan teased, "Aksh isn't an ill-tempered beast like you're always saying. He'd just rather be ridden by a beautiful woman."
"Wouldn't we all!" called a soldier from the back.
Dastan recognized Bis' voice and grinned. Hearing a very unladylike snort, he caught Tamina rolling her eyes, laughing. And the Persians laughed with her.
Taking her role as hostage seriously, Tamina offered her arm to Dastan, glad of the excuse to make him touch her, but he took it grudgingly. As the horses were handed off and orders for the search were given, they stood together quietly out of the way.
He felt her watching him and to avoid her gaze, let his eyes fall to where he held her instead. Under the flickering torchlight, Dastan noticed for the first time the intricate patterns painted on her. Gold, white, and silver.
He wondered what it signified. Chastity, purity, or possession? Unbidden, his thumb moved over her skin, smearing her paint, rubbing it off. Tamina sighed softly, and he released her as if she'd burnt him.
"Dastan..." she began in a soft voice, searching his face. But suddenly Tus took his place, offering his arm to escort her into the palace.
Watching them go, Dastan glanced down at his hand, stained with her colors.
Dangerous. She is dangerous...
---
The members of her court, waiting in the great hall to receive them, were relieved to see the relaxed atmosphere between their ruler and the Persians. As Tamina introduced them, Tus felt completely at ease. Her people were as open and welcoming as these formal introductions allowed. He began to wonder if the forges were a lie after all.
Tamina seemed to read his thoughts. "When your father comes, he won't be happy with you for attacking a holy city."
"It would save time, Princess, if you just told us where the forges are," Nizam said in a light tone that made her skin crawl. "But I forgot, you claim innocence. Tus, My Nephew, do you think it wise to treat them so tenderly? Bring in more of our troops. I offer my company to keep the peace."
Before Tamina could come up with a counter-argument against the appalling idea of Nizam's troops being given free rein, Tus said, "I don't believe an occupation will be necessary. Father wouldn't approve."
She let out a deep breath in relief.
"But we have seen the proof!" Nizam tried again.
"What proof exactly?" Tamina interjected. "The word of spies and a crate full of weapons that could have come from anywhere? Where are your informants?" she demanded.
Nizam's eyes narrowed on her, beginning to recognize her as a serious problem.
Tus gave a small wry smile. "A good question, Princess. Uncle, the spies are yours, are they not? Bring them before me."
"Yes, of course," Nizam said with outward calm.
Yet Tamina could see he was frantically reevaluating his situation. She hoped he'd give up, but didn't think it was likely. How can I expose him before he causes so many deaths like last time? And where are his Hassansins? Tamina watched him leave with stark loathing on her face. Dastan saw it and his brows furrowed, wondering why.
Food and wine were brought for the evening meal, but Garsiv was especially reluctant to eat, grumbling under his breath.
"Prince Garsiv," Tamina huffed in exasperation. "I have not heard you utter a single word. Can you actually speak?"
Dastan and Tus burst out laughing, and Garsiv grudgingly let out a soft chuckle, unbending enough to salute her with his goblet of wine.
During the meal, they asked her carefully neutral questions about the city, but Tamina mostly listened to the princes plan the search, amused by their banter. In the time before, her first impression of Tus had not been a good one, covered in the blood of her people, making her choose marriage to him or death.
Now she needed to give them a second chance. She had seen another side of him when Dastan had shown Tus the dagger's power - unconditional trust and love for his brother. Noticing the worry beads in his hand, she found she could sympathize with the burden of responsibility he carried as Crown Prince. She was a ruler as well, but her self-contained little kingdom rarely suffered serious crises. Except for the last few weeks, of course, she thought grimly. The great Persian Empire probably underwent one crisis after another, which he must handle with wisdom and alacrity. No wonder he needed his brothers at his side.
Garsiv was at his core a soldier, blunt and coarse. But he refused to wear the royal mask. Tamina found she liked his brusque honesty, she'd always know where she stood with him. And she thought he was softening towards her just because his horse liked her.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tus had been observing her as well. "If we are to believe you, that the forges are a lie, what would be the reason behind such an involved plot?" he asked suddenly.
"We hold many treasures here," she answered carefully.
"We would not-" Tus protested.
"Yes I know, Highness," Tamina interrupted, "but Alamut is legendary. Only our riches are not what outsiders assume them to be."
"Treasure like yourself, perhaps?" Tus said smoothly.
The change in his voice startled her. Tus had been attracted enough to her before to want a marriage. She felt foolish for not realizing it might cause complications. She glanced at Dastan with an alarm she couldn't quite conceal, an unconscious appeal for him to intervene. But he only smirked at her, amused at her discomfort.
"Why aren't you married?" Dastan asked bluntly. "Or does your religion demand chastity like those old Roman priestesses. What were they called? Oh, yes... Vestal Virgins."
Tamina blushed, and both Tus and Garsiv choked at his inappropriate question. But Dastan gave her a smug half-smile, looking immensely pleased with himself for denting her composure.
Insufferable ass! She'd forgotten how infuriating he could be when he felt like it.
"There are few men of suitable rank who will accept a position normally taken by a woman," Tamina practically hissed. "A monarch's Consort, without authority unless I choose to bestow it upon him. Whose primary purpose is to provide an heir. An effortless, but not necessarily rewarding life."
"I don't know," Dastan shot back glibly. "I think keeping you happy would take a lot of work."
"Dastan!" Tus admonished. "Please forgive his appalling manners, Princess."
They glared at each other. Well, Tamina was glaring. Dastan was looking at her with a twist to his lips that his brothers recognized as barely controlled mischief. Tus sighed, seeking a change of subject to calm the atmosphere before his little brother really got them in trouble.
Garsiv watched it all with detached interest but thankfully broke the uncomfortable silence by commenting, "Absolute rule. If you don't mind my impertinence, you’re very young to shoulder such responsibility."
Tamina's eyes broke away from Dastan's, turning her face away from them, her expression blank. "My parents’ fate was not kind."
After an awkward pause, Dastan murmured, "You're alone."
Hearing the empathy in his voice, Tamina met his eyes again and nodded. Alone… until you.
They continued to eat in silence, but after the meal, Tamina ventured, "Do you wish to stay in the palace? You may choose any chambers you like."
Garsiv answered, "Princess, as charming as you are, I won't sleep with my neck exposed nor allow my brothers to do so. We'll return to our camp."
What he didn't say explicitly was that Tamina must go with them as their hostage, but she expected it, gesturing to one of her ladies who brought her a small satchel which she immediately passed on to Garsiv.
"Do you want to search it?" she asked archly.
He gave her a dark look but checked it for weapons nonetheless, sniffing at a bottle he found at the bottom.
"It's an ointment to ease the abrasions left by my armour," she offered. "I'm not used to wearing it."
Dastan had a sudden image of her half-naked, rubbing the cream under a full breast and shifted uncomfortably, angry with himself. He'd tried to ignore her but found it impossible. Resorted to provocation, but found he enjoyed igniting her fiery temper. Her voice was particularly disturbing, low and smoky, washing over his skin, crawling up his spine. And she's an orphan . Unwelcome affinity on top of everything else.
Tamina absently plucked the crown from her head, handing it to her attendant, taking a warm cloak in return.
"Shall we go?" she asked, offering her hand to Dastan.
He refused to take it. "You can ride your own horse this time," he muttered in a surly tone.
"But I enjoyed riding with you," she teased with an exaggerated pout.
Instead of the expected snide comeback, his eyes darkened and dropped to her mouth, making her breath hitch. He had never looked at her that way before, with blatant lust. Tamina suddenly felt uncertain and vulnerable in a way she didn't expect. As a woman with a man who wants her. It was a warning.
She turned away without another word.
---
Tamina found the army camp interesting. There was still a lot of activity, men coming and going, the sound of hearty laughter and even singing. As she walked, most of the soldiers stopped what they were doing to watch her. She was relieved the men were surprised to see a woman among them. The Persians obviously didn't take or keep women for their own amusement. Dastan brought her to a tent with two narrow beds at either end and immediately left her to rejoin his brothers.
"Is she settled?" Tus asked.
"Well enough," he mumbled, feeling guilty that he hadn't offered her even the minimal courtesies. But he needed to get away from her disturbing presence and clear his head. "Have they found anything?"
"No," Tus sighed. "No forges, nor raw materials, fuel for the fires or slag. But there are still areas in the city we haven't looked and we should search outside the wall as well."
"Their own soldiers use Persian-made weapons," Garsiv added, making Tus grimace.
"And the spies?"
"Nothing yet, Uncle has not returned. I dislike keeping the princess as a hostage, but it won't be for much longer. For tonight… Dastan, she seems to prefer your company, despite your unforgivable rudeness at dinner. Behave yourself."
He glared at his brothers. Garsiv grinned back provocatively. "Don't you like her? Or do you like her too much!"
Dastan swore under his breath and walked out without replying. Garsiv raised his eyebrows, sharing a look with Tus.
Soon after, Dastan reentered their tent with a sullen expression. He poured himself wine and closed the curtain that separated the sleeping areas. Tamina heard him remove his armour and wash before laying down on his bed, ignoring her.
"So you will guard me tonight?"
Getting no response, she opened the curtain a bit to look at him. "I'm sorry to bother you... um, I have no wish to impose..."
Dastan finally glanced over at her, surprised that she seemed embarrassed.
"I need assistance to remove my armour, the last clasp on the side is stuck."
Dastan sighed, casually throwing on a shirt before he reluctantly rose to help her. Tamina tried not to stare at his bare chest visible under the open tunic, startling a bit when his large, warm hands enclosed her hips as he impersonally twisted her around toward the lamplight to get a clearer look at the clasp. He gave it a few hard tugs before it finally opened, bent out of shape.
"Unusable now, it'll have to be repaired," he commented as he peeled the breastplate open. "What's this tucked in at your back? No wonder it didn't fit properly."
He lifted the armour over her head and drew the dagger out from its hiding place at the small of her back. Tamina hissed in pain as he took it, rubbing at the sore spot. Dastan held up the dagger and regarded her with accusing eyes, hard as ice.
"Hidden weapons Princess?" he snarled.
"It is our most sacred artifact. My duty is to carry it on my person when the city is threatened. It's not very sharp," she joked, hoping to deflect his rising anger.
"Sharp enough to stab an unsuspecting Persian in the heart as he sleeps!"
"If you're afraid of it Dastan, why don't you carry it for me. But hidden, alright? It is dangerous, but not as a knife."
Tamina held her breath, wondering what he would do. She actually wanted Dastan to keep the dagger. If she predicted Nizam's next move correctly, it was safer with him.
"I did not give you leave to address me so informally," he said coldly.
His rebuke was thrown at her with such casual arrogance, Tamina flushed at the reprimand even as her eyes narrowed in irritation. But she managed to hold her tongue. After considering her for a long moment, Dastan handed the dagger back.
"Tomorrow I'll ask my brother what should be done with it."
This was not going well. Feeling annoyed with him and her own inability to read him like she used to, Tamina spat waspishly, "Do you always do what they tell you?"
Dastan looked down at her with a closed expression. "As third son, I must support my brothers and do what they ask of me."
"I just thought a man like you would prefer to make his own decisions."
With a hard edge to his voice, he sneered, "Don't make the mistake of thinking you know me, Princess."
Familiar words which caused her irritation to dissolve in a heartbeat. Tamina couldn't help it, she smirked and seeing his bemusement she laughed in his face. With her hands clasping the dagger behind her back, she closed the distance between them until their bodies almost touched, looking up at him in flirtatious challenge.
"Oh? And what more is there?" she murmured, her voice like velvet.
"What kind of game are you playing?" he growled.
But it was undeniable, his want for her. She saw it in his searching, heated gaze as his eyes swept over her, as real as a touch. Tamina felt a curl of warmth unfurl in her belly as he took her by the arms and kissed her, lips warm and soft, licking at the corner of her mouth, demanding entry. She gasped, opening her mouth to him as his hand moved up to her neck, burying his fingers in her silky hair, deepening the kiss. His other hand roamed freely over her body, making her tremble when he palmed a breast, rubbing and squeezing as her nipple hardened, caressing her waist and hip and bottom. Pulling her tight into his body to grind against his hardness.
Overwhelmed, Tamina marveled at the sensations throbbing through her body. His scent enveloping her, his taste in her mouth. A sweet ache and a gush of hot wetness between her thighs. She reached around his neck with one arm for support, thrusting her free hand under his shirt, running it greedily over his naked back, reveling in the feeling of his warm skin. He groaned and dragged his open mouth down her neck, around the heavy chain she wore, to the base of her throat, sucking softly.
Hearing her moan his name with her delicious husky voice, Dastan shuddered with need. I have to stop this. Now. He pulled away forcefully, breathing hard, jaw clenched and watched her, mesmerized, as she whimpered a little and opened her eyes, dazed.
Dastan admitted to himself he wouldn't be able to withstand her if her aim was to seduce him. Hell, I almost lost control just from kissing her! I need to say something so obnoxious she'll want nothing more to do with me! He dropped his hands and took a step back, pausing for a moment until he was sure he could speak normally.
"As pleasant as this is, you should realize no offer of betrothal will come from me. I don't want any misunderstanding between us." He gave her a wicked grin, both mocking and charming. "However, if you just want a dalliance…"
Tamina drew herself up, righteous anger building in her. But then she saw herself as he must see her. After all, he is a very desirable prize. The last unmarried Prince of Persia and a beautiful, impressive man in his own right. She had been outrageously bold with him, no wonder he thought she was trying to trap him. She looked at him calmly, her mask coming to her rescue, concealing the hurt from his sharp gaze.
"Be assured Prince Dastan, I do not seek your hand in marriage, nor your lovely eyes caressing me. All I want is your trust." She returned to her side of the tent, sad and deflated.
She’d surprised him again. Shaking his head, Dastan went to his bed and tried to ignore his painful arousal. He concentrated instead on all the reasons he should be suspicious of her. The gracefully easy surrender of her city especially. He felt she wanted something from him. And if not my eligible self, then what? She said my trust, but there must be more to it than that. His mind on the machinations of devious women and thankfully not on her luscious body, he finally dozed off.
Tamina was exhausted, this was the first time in weeks she could enjoy a proper bed, but sleep still eluded her. Listening to his even breathing on the other side of the curtain, Tamina thought about the Dastan she was dealing with now. He was different than in the erased time, which worried her. More watchful and serious, dutifully following his brothers' lead. His playful humor was evident, but he kept it subdued. He was a prince of a great empire, after all, bound by royal fetters like she was. But in the other time, he had mocked, teased and charmed her out of her shell. Alone with him out in the world, she could finally be herself. He had changed her, and she refused to be the cold, rigid girl she once was.
Dastan's journey with the dagger had begun with a great victory, earning him the respect and praise from his men and, more importantly, his brothers. He was embarrassed by the title they gave him, 'Lion of Persia', but it proved that he was just as much a warrior prince as they are. And then he saw his father die in front of him. Then Bis, Garsiv and finally Tus. A hero was forged out of the grief and betrayal he experienced. That man was inside him, but not yet formed. Dastan had been partially unmade and Tamina missed him.
But the kiss. Where did that passion come from? How had he kept it hidden from me in all those weeks together? Too much grief and fear? In the time before, they had shared only one kiss. A kiss of innocent longing. Of love and farewell. She was not sexually experienced and hadn't realized how chaste they'd been with each other. But now she knew. Dastan had protected her from everything. Including himself. She knew he regretted kissing her, but Tamina did not. He'd shown her the fire that existed between them, and despite what she'd told him, she wanted more.