Title: Soldier Without Her Sword
Pairing/Characters: Tamina, Amira and Garsiv
Rating/Warnings: G
Summary: Amira runs away to join the Persian army
Spoilers: Not really.
Disclaimer: Prince of Persia doesn't belong to me.
Author's Note: Written for cameron_sarah LJ for her winning donation in the QLD Flood Appeal Fic Auction!
Picking up a ripe mango, Tamina brought it closer to her nose and breathed deeply, enjoying the sweet smell. Smiling over at the stall keeper she enquired after the price, then selected a few more succulent pieces of fruit to return to the palace with. "My mother used to bring me to this very same stall when I was your age," she said, smiling down at the little girl standing at her side.
Only, there was no little girl standing at her side. There was no little girl standing near her at all.
"Amira?" She called out, turning around and looking through the people milling around her. "Amira? Dratted girl …"
Placing the mangoes she had gathered back on the stand, promising to return shortly, she slid through the small congregation of people who had crowded around the fruit stall and looked around the street beyond.
"Amira!" She called again, her hands cupped to her mouth as she tried to keep control of her nerves. That girl was a little scamp, running off and investigating without a care for whoever was supposed to be watching her – in this case, her mother.
A high-pitched squeal followed by an ecstatic giggle caught her attention, and Tamina moved toward the sound. Walking away from the food stalls and out into the open square, Tamina stopped and stared as her little girl clapped and cheered for the small company of armed men that weaved their way through the square atop their horses.
She was chanting and cheering for the soldiers along with everyone else in the crowd, shouting out, "Per-sha! Per-sha!"
Shaking her head, unable to help but be amused at her daughter's antics, Tamina stepped forward and placed a hand on the bouncing girl's shoulder.
"Who is it?" The Alamutian Princess asked the little girl.
"It's Father!" She cried out, waving wildly at the approaching soldiers.
Laughing, Tamina looked up and scanned the faces she could see and then shook her head. "I'm sorry dear, but your father isn't there." There was one face she recognised though.
As the soldiers drew closer still, one man split his horse away from the group and trotted toward them. If she hadn't already recognised him by his attire and that infamous horse alone, the smug smile on his face as he approached would have given him away.
The man drew closer toward them and then shifted in his saddle to reach down, scooping up the small girl who squealed uncontrollably and kicked her legs through the air, dropping her directly in front of him in the saddle. Sliding his helm off his head, the soldier then placed it over hers, which only made her laugh louder.
"Look, Mama!" Amira cried out, lifting the metal helmet just slightly so she could see out from under it. "I'm Uncle Garsiv!"
Laughing as well, Tamina clapped along with the amused crowd that stood around them. "You look after my daughter, Persian," she told him, the smile on her face belying her stern tone.
"Look after her?" He asked, chuckling and leading his horse away to continue through to their destination. "She's the pride of the Persian army, she'll have to look after me!"
"But, Uncle Garsiv," Tamina heard her daughter say as they trotted away. "I don't have my own sword!"