The Walk Of A Prince

A/N: This is my first Prince of Persia fanfic, so reviews would be especially appreciated to let me know what you think of my writing for both of the characters. This is the part where Dastan tells Tamina about not having been born in the palace written from Dastan's point of view. I definitely don't think this is my best writing, but I decided to post it in the hopes that others may enjoy it.

Disclaimer: It would be amazing if I owned Prince of Persia, but unfortunately I don't have that privilege.

"You walk like one," Tamina said, in another attempt to get my attention as we moved slowly through the desert. When I didn't ask her what "one" she was referring to, she kept talking. "head held high, chest out, long stomping strides." I ignored the jibe as she imitated heavy footfalls in the sand, clearly over-exaggerating. I'd have kept going easily if it weren't for her next words. "It's probably from being told since birth that the world was yours."

I stopped immediately, pausing before I turned to give myself a moment to conceal my emotions. I hadn't been told the world was mine. Not the world nor the throne. I was lucky to have been taken in at all by anyone, particularly by the king. As for being told that "since birth," that was probably the farthest from my actual life that she could guess. My childhood was nothing like hers, I was sure of it.

"I wasn't born in a palace like you!" I said, facing her. Nearly everyone that lived in or near the palace knew it. It's hard to keep that sort of thing private. Still, it wasn't something I liked to advertise, and when it came up in a conversation I almost always changed the subject as quickly as I could. The princess's expression of shock, however, showed that she knew nothing about where I came from. "I was born in the slums, where I fought and scratched and clawed for everything that I got!" The undeniable, pitiful truth.

Tamina seemed hesitant to ask her question; not quite believing what I said was true. I didn't blame her. After my parents died, I fully expected to live whatever was left of my life on the streets.

"Then, how did you become a prince?"

I didn't quite know how to answer her question "I don't know. The king…"

I paused, unsure of how much to tell her. I almost just told her what happened. The king watched me almost get killed by a nobleman because I was trying to save my friend from getting beaten for something that wasn't his fault. It sounded pathetic. I've heard people say it's heroic, but to me it wasn't some grand act of courage. It was simple. Bis was my friend. Friends help each other, no matter what. I couldn't have stood by and just watched. I did what I knew was the right thing to do. Besides, to tell her that I'd have to tell her how I got caught, how I'd have died had the king not prevented it as I was steeling myself for my death. Admitting that I wasn't royalty, that the king wasn't my birth father, that I didn't come from the palace like her, was already hard enough for me. I didn't need to tell her the rest.

Looking at the princess's expression, I remembered my unfinished sentence, cut off in the flashback of the past that I could never seem to escape. "…He…found me. He gave me a home. A family."

I remembered her original attempt to insult me, not realizing how deeply her words would cut at the time. "You're looking at the walk of a man who's just lost everything." I turned away, less to signal the end of the conversation than to keep her from seeing the tears beginning to slide down my face.