I have tried so hard to keep quiet on my Garsiv/Tamina headcannons in this 'verse, but after this prompt request from Pastelissimo it was almost impossible to do so.
In saying that, thank you for the wonderful prompts, Pastelissimo :) I'm really looking forward to writing the other one ...
"Have you ever been in love, Uncle Garsiv?"
Garsiv flinched, his eyes instantly darting to the solders standing by him. If he saw a single smirk or twitch of their lips at his niece's innocent question, he would have them on border patrol until the next moon.
With a nod of his head he sent them on their way. Turning from the festivities of Tus' latest wedding, Garsiv crouched to the ground in front of Amira.
She was a little vision in white robes, with gold and white threaded through her hair. Even her hands and feet were painted with designs from the Alamutian temple.
She looked just like a miniature version of her mother, Tamina. Garsiv's throat constricted at the thought.
"Why do you ask, little one?"
Sighing, Amira pulled over a nearby chair and clambered up onto it. "Uncle Tus loves lots of ladies. Now he loves Shari too."
They both glanced over to where Tus stood with his new wife, speaking amiably with whichever foreign noble commanded their attention. Tus' other wives were scattered around the room, each looking radiant in the finest Persian cloth. "Your Uncle is well-loved," Garsiv mused.
"But you have not wedded anyone," Amira pressed. "Have you never been in love before?"
Garsiv grit his teeth and kept looking out over the celebration rather than facing his niece and her question. His father sat off to one side flocked by old men in stuffy robes. His soldiers were intermingled through the proceedings, keeping an eye on the dignitaries and gorging themselves on food and libations. Even Dastan and Tamina were enjoying themselves, Tamina's face alight as she watched her husband juggle apples.
Though, it was rare to see joy missing from her face whenever Dastan was near. The two were truly a match forged by the Gods. He clenched his fists.
Wishing he had been permitted to carry his sword so he would have the comfort of its weight at his side, Garsiv turned back to Amira and forced a smile. "How could I love another when you have already stolen my heart, little niece?"
Amira, completely oblivious to the emotions warring inside him, stuck her tongue out. "I did not. I don't steal things."
"Really? Not even the sweet meat I saw you swipe from your father's plate earlier tonight?" Her fingers were still stained with spices and juice.
Wide-eyed, Amira carefully wiped her hand against her robes, staining the otherwise pristine cloth.
Garsiv tutted her. "Now look what you've done." Taking her hand, he led her to a table so he could try to lift the stain with water before her mother could see.
He could picture Tamina now, spotting the state of her daughter's clothes and coming to the conclusion that he must have been involved somehow. Storming over to him, eyes flashing as she demanded to know why he insisted on ruining her evening—
"You should fall in love, Uncle Garsiv," she announced, startling him out of his thoughts. "I want more cousins."
Barking out a short laugh, Garsiv shook his head. "When would I find time for children of my own with you around?"
But Amira merely stuck her tongue out at him again, and started quizzing him instead on when she could start practising with real swords …
