Bond of Brothers

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the film Prince of Persia, and I'm not making any money from this fic

Summary: An in-depth look at the thoughts in Garsiv's mind, before and during the attack from the Hassansins

Warning(s): Spoilers; violence

Garsiv had never been very good at guessing what people were thinking, or if they were being truthful or not. He normally left that to his older brother, Tus; and until this moment, he'd never needed to guess what someone else was thinking.

And now, he had to decide whether or not to trust his little brother.

It should have been an easy decision to make. Dastan may not have been related to Garsiv and Tus by blood, but he was still their brother. But if Garsiv believed Dastan, then he was going to have to accept that it was their uncle who had been responsible for killing their father. And that would be just as hard as believing Dastan was the murderer.

Trying to decide what to believe, Garsiv studied his little brother's face. Dastan had never been very good at lying while they'd been growing up. And though they hadn't spent very much time together after becoming adults, Garsiv knew that Dastan hadn't changed that much – and neither had he.

Slowly, Garsiv lowered his sword; and he didn't miss the look of relief on Dastan's face. "Tell me, brother," he said quietly.

Briefly, Dastan looked like he didn't quite believe Garsiv. But that look faded fast, quickly replaced by even more relief. He then opened his mouth – but before he could say anything, there was a warning cry from outside.

Immediately, his only thought protecting his little brother, Garsiv hurried out of the temple first. He started to draw his sword – but before he could even pull it out of its sheath, there was a whistling sound as something came flying through the air at Garsiv. The next thing he knew, there were several spikes protruding from his chest – and he collapsed onto the ground.

For a while, Garsiv just lay there, unable to move because of the pain. He was dimly aware of the battle going on all around him, but the spikes in his chest made it impossible for him to even think about being able to help. And he knew that he was dying. He'd always thought that he would die in battle – but he'd always expected to have his sword in his hand; to die at a sword blade, not through the attack of an assassin.

And worse than the knowledge that he'd been caught off guard was the knowledge that he wasn't going to be able to protect his little brother; he wasn't going to be able to tell Tus what he'd learned, and make sure their older brother knew that Dastan wasn't a traitor.

Dastan was going to have to face those trials alone, as he'd had to before being brought into the castle by their father.

Garsiv didn't know how long he'd been lying there for, on the edge of living and dead. But he suddenly became aware of Dastan fighting close by. He coughed once, feeling blood trickle down his mouth, and forced his eyes open in time to see Dastan thrown to the ground by one of the Hassansins.

Garsiv didn't think about it; he reacted with the sole purpose of protecting his brother. He grabbed the nearest weapon he could – which happened to be a spear – and plunged it into the Hassansin's chest before the assassin could kill his little brother. Then, he gasped with the pain, and had to drop the weapon; that had used up the last of his strength.

Like it or not, Garsiv's tenuous hold on life was slipping away. Through a red haze, he could see Dastan leaning over him. Garsiv knew he was dying; he knew he wouldn't be able to say much. "Dastan... I'm sorry," he gasped out, hoping that his brother knew that he meant for everything: for believing he was a murderer; for hunting him; for refusing to believe him... and for now not being able to protect him.

Dastan looked like he wanted to speak, but Garsiv's next words cut him off. "Save the empire." He was giving his little brother the task that had once been his. But he couldn't do it anymore. He managed to hold on long enough to see Dastan nod; and then he breathed his last... and died.