By the way, I don't own the Prince of Persia characters. This is a non-profit story, written for my own amusement and the amusement of others.
Chapter 2
The men sang bawdy songs in drunken voices, the concubines draped over their knees. Wine flowed, men yelled, concubines cackled, it was a normal night at the barracks. Among the men, the three eldest princes of the land joined in with the loudest voices, drowned in wine, and toyed with the prettiest concubines in the centre of the room. In the corner, the youngest prince sat with a goblet of wine, watching the proceedings, and giving any concubine that came his way to a soldier. His thoughts somewhere else, he absently traced the scars on the top of his arm that had been made by the staff of the traitor vizier, then took a long draught of his wine. Suddenly spinning out the way, he narrowly avoided the soldier that had fallen into where he had been sitting a moment ago, smashing his bench and table on the way down. The crash brought the room to a standstill.
'Little brother, why do you not celebrate?' The eldest prince, Abazar, stood wavering with one foot on a bench and the other on a table. 'This is a great victory for us!' He cried, as the men roared.
'He does not care?' The second eldest prince questioned.
'I do care, Marathat, but I prefer to celebrate on my own.' The prince replied.
'Perhaps he is, once more, upset because Father didn't take him with him to conquer?' Abazar guffawed, while the men wavered between joining in and staying out of the most recent notorious family feud.
'Well, after the performance he put on in India, I'm not surprised!' Marathat roared, collapsing with laughter.
'Let me see how it went.' Abazar began, unsteadily getting off his feet and weaving slowly towards his young brother. Mimicking his brother's voice, he continued. 'Father, please let me go with you this time. I promise I will make you proud. The conquest will be over within days. Give me a chance, and I will deliver the kingdom to you.' Stopping in front of him, Abazar swayed dangerously. 'Isn't that how it went, before you decided to turn tail when you got there, and somehow convinced Father to leave India?'
'You don't understand. None of you do.' The prince spoke softly, then turned to leave.
'What don't I understand?' Abazar yelled, grabbing the prince's shirt and swinging him round to face him. 'Tell me!' He yelled into the prince's face.
The prince slowly looked up from the floor and stared into his brother's eyes with an unflinching gaze.
'Let me go.' He murmured softly. The men he commanded knew that tone, and began to back off slowly.
'Or you'll what?' His elder brother spat in his face. 'Huh, runt?' The men took a definite step back, and the other two princes looked bewildered at their behaviour, then jumped back as Abazar's senseless body flew through the air between them. Stunned, they looked back to their little brother, who stood with his hands fisted by his sides. Exhaling, he uncurled them.
'Do that, for example.' He said coolly, then finished his wine and walked out of the barracks.
It took a while for the soldiers to disperse, most of them with a whore on their arm. The young prince laid on the stable roof in the courtyard, staring up at the stars, listening to them go, and thinking.
'That was stupid, Shah.' The prince didn't even have to look down to know that the last of the brothers, Thaseem, was stood at the bottom of the stable, waiting for him.
'He asked for it, As, even you have to admit that.' Shah retorted.
'I know, but that's the way he is. Still, it was unwise. You know what a hold he has on Father.' Thaseem countered.
'I wasn't about to let it go.'
'Yes, well, maybe you should have.' Thaseem sighed. 'How in Allah's name did you get up there?' Shah grinned in the dark – no one else knew about his wall walking skills, and he intended to keep it that way.
'I climbed. Here, I'll give you a hand.' Leaning over, he outstretched his hand, and a few seconds later they were both on the roof of the stable.
'You weigh more than you look like you do.' Shah chuckled.
'Yeah, well you were a fat baby. Some of us get it later in life, is all.' Thaseem grinned. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Thaseem broke the silence.
'You were thinking about her again, weren't you?' He asked, studying his young brother's face in the dim light. Shah sighed. Thaseem was the only person he had told about Farah and the Sands, but he knew Thaseem didn't believe most of his story.
'Yes.'
'You have to stop. It's the law – the first son must be married first. It is death if you break it.' Thaseem stated quietly.
'You don't know what it's like, As. To have fought with her, seen her die, and then see her alive, in front of you, with no memory of who you are. It's torture. To know that she's alive, and that you have to leave her, the one woman you will ever love, and watch her slip beyond your grasp. It's hell.' Shah said earnestly. 'I know you don't believe me, but she was…perfect.'
'I believe you are in love, and can't reach it, and your obvious pain makes me believe you.' Thaseem sighed.
'If it's so obvious, why can't Father and Abazar and Marathat see it?' Shah grumbled.
'Because they're thick, I don't know.' Thaseem answered sarcastically. Shah looked up, surprised. 'You know Abazar and Marathat – all the brawn of Persia, and none of her brains. And Father is so befuddled by his advisors that he can't think by himself, so don't count on help from that quarter.' Shah laughed out loud, and felt his tension easing.
'Come on, young 'un.' Thaseem said, slinging an arm around Shah's shoulders. 'Let's get some sleep before the breakfast bell tolls.' Together, they jumped from the roof of the stable and made their way to their rooms as dawn broke over the rooftop of the palace.
