Disclaimer: Although I wish, I don't own PoP...any of them. I do own the games, though, if that's any consolation. To me it is.
Mistake from "Father- to "Farah" has been fixed.
Chapter 1 "All Manner of Creatures…"
The Prince peered out from his room, looking out at his potent kingdom, vast and full of vigor. He brushed back his long, brown hair from his eyes as he watched the merchant's trade rice and fish at the docks, the soldier's stand their usual posts and the children skip rocks into the ocean down near the ships, careful not to interfere with the trades. This was a glorious day. It had been years since the Prince had inherited his father's kingdom and riches once again, and had spent it all making Babylon a wondrous place again. He now had a baby boy, and a wife fit for the Gods.
A young servant came into the room; he was lean and short, and gaunt-faced, and he maybe was still a boy. He walked barefoot and little slivers could be seen on the soles every time he picked up his feet. He may have looked malnourished but that was not the case, as the kingdom cared for all of its inhabitants. His gauntness was a genetic physical appearance. He hurried over to a table and set down food with carefulness. The food itself was unfamiliar to the Prince but the smell of it was intoxicating, an array of spiciness and sweetness at the same time.
"Not now, Sashide, I'm in no mood for food." The Prince spoke, putting his hand on the servant's shoulder before the boy could exit. "Thank you, anyway." He added, smiling.
Sashide gave a sincere look of acceptance and picked the plate back up, and then started out of the room.
The Prince leaned on the banister that separated the balcony from the rest of the room; he perked his head up as he remembered something. "While you're here, have you seen my wife around?"
"I…would suspect she is at the bathes, my liege. I saw her walking there with two other women."
The Prince nodded his head and turned away, releasing the banister. The boy took that as a cue to leave. He hopped down from the balcony and leisurely sauntered towards a marble water bowl that was mounted to the wall. There was a worn, tattered rag on the edge of it and he picked it up and dipped it into the bowl, then he wrung it out and put it to his face. He winced at a week-old scar that slept on the lower corner of his face and immediately dropped the rag; it splashed back into the bowl as a dead frog would a pond, floating gently on the surface. He touched a finger to it and he winced again, the hiss of a snake erupting from him.
"I must stop these skirmishes." He sighed.
Leaping up, he proceeded to finish washing his face and arms and shoulders. Realizing how much time had passed, he left the room in a hurry.
A youthful, appealing dark skinned woman who wore a light blue veil over her head poured water from a concrete jug that sat in her crossed lap. And on the opposite side of her, another woman did the same. The two waterfalls met at the curve of a woman's shoulders, and then slid gracefully into the bath, that sprinkled with rose petals. Up from the water rose an angel, only her soaking wings weren't spread. Her hair rested on her back, heavy from the water and colored pitch black. She ran a hand down her arm, smooth was the travel. As she went back under, the two women again poured cleansing water over her caramel skin. The Prince stopped his gawking from the doorway and started walking towards her, putting a finger to his lips to quiet the giggling women. He reached into the bath and grabbed a flower petal, he waited for the angel to come up once more and he set the petal down on the gorgeous bridge from her neck to shoulder. She gave a smile and looked up at him. The Prince gestured for the girls to leave, which they did.
"Aren't there better things to do than stare? You could have burned a hole in me."
"I would apologize, but I'm afraid it wouldn't be sincere if I did."
"You're never sincere." She said, kissing him.
"Farah, you're beautiful."
She broke the kiss and coughed. "You must stop breaking the kiss; you do it all the time." The Prince complained, with a forced high-pitched voice.
"Then you must stop talking while kissing." She spoke between coughs. He grinned and pulled back a piece of her hair, putting his nose to it and smelling the aroma slowly. She pushed his face away playfully, as she laughed. This was the reason the Prince loved his Farah to the Heavens, which reminded him of the food, her spiciness and sweetness at the same time.
That night, a party was held in the Courts in celebration of the Prince's long deserved reign, and for the mourning of his father and brother, because neither funeral could be held since then because of unknown reasons. Women and men conversed with wine in their cups and joy in their hearts. The little boys played outside, sword fights with sticks and dice games, and the girls giggled to each other as they whispered about the immaturities but the strange allure of the boys, who picked their noses and chased after each other with rocks and indistinct shouts of violence.
The Prince stood on a pedestal, hearing critical praise from all of the palace's guests. There was a smile that couldn't be removed from his face that night, and every time he glanced over at Farah, who cradled their tiny child, his smile nearly turned to joyous tears. Her red skirt flowed beautifully from her long legs, and her shirt was where the baby lay, asleep.
"I rather enjoy this." A voice called out. And it disturbed the Prince visibly, but he dismissed it and addressed his people. It was time to have fun.
A little girl came running into the Court, before the party could really begin. She was crying and hysterical. She said that a troupe of men had stormed the unattended gates, and many of the children were slaughtered, and the girl's taken for unholy things. After the guards gathered to inspect outside, an arrow soared through the sky and hit the little girl in her back, she gasped and fell to her knees, and was caught by a nearby elderly woman before she hit the ground completely. Panic ensued, and the guards stormed outside, tears in their eyes for the children. The regular citizens, the Prince and his bride all stood, confused, heartbroken, and waiting as screams rolled from outside. The guards were all being slaughtered. "Farah, take Sana and go with the citizens!" the Prince shouted, as he ran to the barracks. He went and grabbed a sword and armor, preparing for battle. He was unaware that Farah had followed him until he heard the patter of bare feet on the ground. He turned back his head to protest, but he knew it was no use, with Farah of all people. Farah went to a trusted friend, and handed her Sana. "Take care of him, especially if anything happens." The entrusted women agreed through choking tears. Farah ran upstairs to get her bow and arrows, and the Prince reluctantly waited for her. Farah came from downstairs and they both gave a look to each other, a look of sorrow. Farah grew close to the Prince and put her forehead to his. She opened her mouth to speak but the Prince left the embrace before that, deeply hurting her. He did it unintentionally, but it had all the effect in the world. The Prince ran to the colossal door to exit, before a flaming boulder came heaving at them. The Prince yelled and tried to run away, Farah called for him and every citizen was screaming and shoving to get out of there. Soon, the boulder struck and all went quiet. Everything was a flashing light of white. As if Heaven opened its doors graciously.
Fire and burning trees and bushes surrounded the room. Bodies were strewn every which way, hanging from the balconies, drooping over the stair walls with viscera hanging out, flat on the floor and some even covering their friends and family, in an attempt to save their lives. But it was in vain. The Prince awoke, his body flung against a wall, he tried to move but he felt a sharp pain in every part of his upper body, as if daggers were inserted and twisted to the point of no return. When he felt the power to move, he stumbled around the Court looking for Farah and Sana, falling every few feet. The woman who was entrusted with keeping Sana safe had a sword lodged in her throat, and the blood seeped and flowed all the way across the floor to Farah's unconscious body, whose already red outfit was illuminated and damp.
Sana was gone.
"Are we going after them?" The familiar voice echoed from underneath the abyss of secrets.
"I thought you were gone." The Prince muttered, trying to hold back his winces of pain and his tears with a grimaced face.
"Maybe if you weren't such a depressing attention-seeker who has the worst kind of babyish angst, I wouldn't need to be here."