Hey everyone! Okay, so I have some good news and some bad news. First off, I would like to say thank you to those people who have reviewed. And it is for them I have decided to update. They are what keep me going. However, I still haven't reached twenty reviews! This is frustrating because I see that you guys are liking it, I check my hits and visitors on the hour pretty much. And I would like to update quicker, but it doesn't seem as if it is in any type of demand. So because of that, I take my time, thinking that not many of you care that much. This is sad because there are reviewers that do care, and I don't want to disappoint them.
So please review! And don't be that kind of person thinking that someone else will pick up the slack for you. Because if all of you think that way (and you have), I don't get any reviews at all (and I haven't). I honestly don't care if I get the same feedback from all of you, just the fact that you are reviewing is enough for me.
Since Chapter 2, my reviews have doubled, but they are by no means ideal. I like seeing a whole bunch of reviews. They make me happy. And I think that we can all safely say that we all like it when out author is happy, do we not?
I expect to see a surplus of reviews from all of you when I get on. You will get your chapters faster, and then everyone is happy. This is not a one way street here, you have to understand that.
So, for those of you who have, this chapter is for you. We get to get a better look at Princess Tamina and her thoughts, so brace yourself! :)
Tamina stood, just before a chamber filled with raving idiots, as they talked, most likely with mugs of alcohol in their hands.
The men around her were not much better. All they would do was stare at her when they though that she was not looking. Most of them probably saw her as an object, something that could be put to good use. Foreign men typically thought as much. She was a fair looking woman, and she had often been noticed by several of her piers. It disturbed her to no end. She knew that she was an intellectual, that she should not be underestimated by anyone. But if someone were to see her as the wrong type of person, then it would be disastrous on their parts.
The Princess sighed. Her mother had told her time and time again that all men were idiots. That none of them had any clue what they were doing, except when they had a sharp object in there hands or a woman to look at. Her mother was right. All men were the same, and all had the same weaknesses: power, money, and beauty. Their only strength was just that - strength.
Men. It was a disgusting word.
However, no matter how many times she tried to tell herself that men were not needed, she knew that that was not true. There were times when they would have a stroke of genius, few, but they would occur. And she knew that they were were loyal creatures, especially where their country was concerned. Alamut's men had never once hesitated when it came to protecting their city. But Tamina had never left Alamut. Who was to say that the invading Persians would do the same where Persia was concerned?
Alamut's men had a purpose. But when these Persian rats had trampled in, they destroyed everything that her people had worked so hard for. They destroyed their purpose. There was no mercy shown in the eyes of a Persian. They were all heartless, and cared not about the people that they would conquer. They would most likely steal anything of any value, then flee with it, leaving Alamut in shambles. Or they would export all of their sacred things to Persia's capital, only the ruler of Alamut keeping some for his own. Prince Tus would be in command of her city, making orders that would not benefit it at all. Tus knew nothing of her city. And he would sit in ignorance, ruling over a city that would come to no longer exist on a map, passing out of even the residents' thoughts and memories. The Holy City of Alamut would become nothing.
The Princes all believed that Alamut was hiding weapons, sending them out occasionally to Persia's enemies. Clearly, they did not grasp the fact that Alamut was a holy city. They had no reason to even forge weapons. Once they had made enough for their miniscule army, they shut down the forgeries. They had no need for them anymore. Though, now that they had been attacked just because of a unlikely hunch, Tamina was not sure if reopening the forgeries was such a rotten idea. Those weapons would be simple to make, and maybe they export them out of her city. Or perhaps, they would use them, themselves. The Gods knew that these territorial Persians needed to be exterminated. Nothing good could come from them. They did not deserve mercy, not even the ones that were just following orders.
No. No, she could not get ahead of herself. As wonderful as the idea was, there was one thing that would prevent her from ever getting the forgeries started once more. One thing that she could not control the outcome of. The one thing that made her feel more insecure than she ever had in his short lifetime.
Marriage.
The word was worse than men. It burned in her mouth, just at the thought of saying it. It physically hurt her every time the word was spoken, or even thought of.
She was to marry one of those Persians, so high and mighty on their golden thrones. And even though men could be nothing but bodies at times, the Princes would refuse to let Tamina out of their sight; that was certain. They were clever; it was the wicked truth, and there wasn't anything that she could say or do to change that fact. The older ones apparently had several wives, so they knew how to keep them under control, kept locked away in cages, forcing them into a mad state of mind.
Those poor women. Being treated probably like a patch of dirt. She did not want that life. She liked being free, excersising her freedom regularly. Being married to Prince Tus, would take those priviledges away. He would take everything away from her. Her people, her treasures, even her religion would be banned, and that was the worst part of it all.
She would rather die first. Just like she would ratther die first when the option of marrying Tus arose. She liked life better without the authority of a man commanding her every step.
As much as she liked the idea of dying first, she knew that that was not an option that could be taken seriously. It never would be, much to her sadness. She had one job - one job that was far moe important than all of her others as royalty. She had to protect it - keep it out of the wrong hands. And it was unfortunate, but she would not be able to do that if she was deceased. Even though there were others that would take her position, less experienced people tended to not stress over their job, which made them a risk. A risk that she was not willing to take.
"Your Highness?" she heard. She looked up from the marble floor, meeting the eyes of a curly haired Persian. Even just looking at a Persian made her feel ill. There was nothing princely about what his leaders had done. The man did not seem to care. Prince Dastan had given him a job to conduct, and that was all that mattered to him. Following the orders of those who were violent and unjust.
Tamina regained her composure, looking at the man, trying to hold back the distaste that she felt rise in her mouth. "What?" she snapped, then held back her tongue. "Yes?" she tried. Even though she vowed to herself to hate all Persians, this man could not have been responsible for her perished city. That did not mean that she had to like him. Any Persian was hated by her, and that was never going to change.
"The King wishes for your presence. I am to escort you into the chamber. The King will either accept or decline the marriage proposal. I suggest that you do not speak. Insulting a King of his stature is not wise." He looked at her, then turned to the door, then looked back to her. He came up to her side, putting out a customary hand, allowing her to go first. She only stared at him blankly.
"What would make you think that I would insult him?" She tried to just appear curious, but she could not help the glare that burned him through her dark eyes. So stereotypical these Persians were.
He looked unsteady, as if he was not sure how to answer the question. His eyes travelled downwards, landing on the floor, and his cheeks flushed just the tiniest bit. "My lady, if I may?" He did not wait for her permission, so as to not loose confidence in his small confrontation. "My lady, you have insulted all three Princes and their uncle, Nizam. If you insult their father, they may take back their promise to be merciful to your people. They will reject the marriage, and they will most likely slaughter all of you. It is unecessary, but they will do as they see fit." It was obvious by the look on his face that he felt proud of himself for insulting her; his lighter eyes stared coldly into hers. They narrowed into slits, and glared, refusing to loose to a woman. "Hurry up!" He gave her a strong push in the back towards the chamber.
She was not surprised in the least when he did not open the door for her.
Dastan gestured to the man to let in Princess inside. He made a small nod and went outside to retrieve the Princess.
He turned to his father, admiring how kingly he looked with the cream robe wrapped around his shoulders. Thank the Lord for Tus! Without him, Dastan would have looked like a fool with no gift for his father. What a brilliant gift it was too! Getting somethinig for a man who already has everything is terribly difficult, but Alamut held just the thing.
When the crowd made a small gasp, and when his father's eyes widened slightly, he figured that the Princess had entered the room. He looked over his shoulder. If they only knew how irritating she was!
Nevertheless, he walked to her side, the guards around her moving away. He stood behind her, lowering his face to the side of hers. She didn't look at him, but he could see the twitch of her lips as she retained a grimace. "Father, this is Princess Tamina," he started. "Tus wishes to marry her, and it is my deepest wish that you should agree." Dastan left her side, walking across the ring of people. Bis smiled at him, nudging him.
"Ah, the jewel of Alamut," the King said kindly, admiring her, making her feel extremely uncomfortable. "You're city is truly magnificent, Your Highness," he said. Dastan sighed. His father may have been a King, the same King who had conquered others' lands, but his father was a good man. There was never a woman who he did not treat with the utmost respect. Too bad the Princess would not like respect.
"You should have seen it before treacherous people descended upon it," she rudely snapped back at his father, not even giving him the decency of looking him directly in the eye. Dastan involuntarily growled under his breath. She would be wise not to insult his father, not in his presence, and certainly not in the presence of his other brothers.
"Clearly she will make a good queen," his father said, still trying to be polite with the witch. He turned back to Dastan. "Yes, she will make a good wife. But Tus and Garsiv already have several wives. Perhaps it is time that the youngest Prince take his first wife." Dastan's eyes widened with fear. Marry Tamina? He would rather die first. He cast an unsure glance at her, finding that her expression matched his - utter shock. "What do you say Dastan?" his father pried, waiting for an answer, and there would only be one answer that he would want to hear.
The youngest Prince stuttered several times, looking at his father with a plead written all over in his blue eyes. His father did not take the message.
"He takes an unbreachable city without a hint of fear in his eyes, and yet his crumbles to dust at the thought of marriage!" his father proclaimed, producing a laugh from everyone around, except from Dastan and Tamina.
Suddenly everything got quiet, and Dastan was brought away from his thoughts when he heard the yelp of his father. The robe that had been the gift sizzled, smoke emerging from the top in light billows. Many of the guards jumped forth, attempting to pull the cloak off of their king. Their only reward was sweltering hands, dotted with growing blisters and red skin.
Garsiv was next to act, pushing everyone around him out of his way. He bent over the King, reaching out with a brave hand to tear the cloak off. However, all of the other guards stepped forward, pulling him away from his father's dying body.
King Sharaham was lying on the ground dying as he made feeble attempts to save himself.
Dastan rushed over, kneeling before his father, worry ever present in his eyes. "Someone help him," he said, looking up to the people around him pleadingly. "Somebody help him!" he yelled weakly. His father was dying, and there was no one who wanted to help save the life of Persia's greatest king.
"Dastan gave him the cloak!" Garsiv screamed, pointing at his brother, who looked at him with pain. Surely his brother did not think that he was responsible? Dastan had had no family as a child, and the King was the only father that he ever knew! Without his father, Dastan would have died a long time ago, due to his own recklessness.
"Why?" his father said, then collapsing completely on the stone cold floor, his limbs making one last twitch of defiance. The King died then, his defenseless body shriveled and old from premature decay. Dastan shook his head furiously. He did not kill his father.
"Kill him! He murdered the King!" Garsiv yelled once more, trying to escape the hold of the several guards.
Dastan looked up at his brother, tempted to tell him that it was not he who killed their father. But Garsiv would not listen to that. There would be nothing that would stop Garsiv from killing Dastan.
He stood rapidly running to the window. He had to leave, even if it meant becoming an outlaw. He had to leave.
Bis jumped to his aid, trying to prevent Persian soldiers from getting at his favorite Prince. But the numbers were too great and Bis fell, a spear ejecting itself from Bis's chest.
"Bis!" Dastan screamed when he turned. Were all of his loved ones dying because of him?
With a sudden pull, he felt the hand of someone drag him to the window, making him jump down into the unknown. He heard the scream of a woman, and saw just before he plunged into cool waters, Tamina.
He stood up in the small pool rapidly, taking a quick look to be sure that it was she that he saw. It was. "What are you doing here?" he yelled at her, feeling no shame.
"You are going to need my help!" He gave her a small look. "Get a horse! Hurry! They are coming!" She pointed to a gathering of horses, tied to one pole by mere rope.
Dastan wasn't sure about the Princess and what help she could possibly give him. But without needing to be told twice, he hurried off, drawing his sword from its sheath. He cut the ropes for every horse, in hopes that they would scatter and not be catchable. He caught sight of his brother's horse, Askh. With one sswift movement he jumped on it, grabbing the reigns tightly. He had never been the best of riders, as he liked fighting from the ground, or the air.
He drove the horse forward, reaching out to the Princess who was waiting expectantly. They rode on, refusing to turn their heads for the slightest moment, in fear that they would see the entire Persian army released on them.
"Close the gate!" he heard. It was Garsiv. His own brother really thought that he would want to kill their father.
"Slide down," he commanded to the Princess, surprised that she understood what she meant. They held tightly to the horse, keeping their feet above the ground. They would not have been able to get through the gate otherwise.
"He stole my horse! He stole my horse!" Garsiv yelled once more, pointing after Dastan and Tamina. They were almost to the gate. But they needed to go faster, as it was closing every second. Askh must have realized the great deal of need, and pushed through, barely getting under the gate before it closed completely.
The Prince and Princess rose up on the saddle, both checking to make sure that they were not followed. A fraction of the Persian Empire was behind that gate, waiting for it to open, but that would take longer than closing it.
Dastan gave a shaky laugh, then pushed the stallion faster, away from the eyes of his family. In the course of one day, he had breached a castle and had been praised by the people he ruled over. Now, he was wanted for the murder of his own father, and he was with the Princess, no less. Whatever trouble he had been in before had been multiplied just by the fact that she was there. She would slow him down, but he could not leave her stranded in the desert. No. He would wait for civilization to do that.
Alright there you go. This chapter is the longest one yet! Woot woot! Now, here comes your part of the story. You have to play your part or the storyline does not work. We all know this.
Tell me what you think. Tell me if you like having longer chapters or shorter chapters! Whatever you guys want, you can have. But I have one thing to ask for in return! Continuously review! Please! That is all I want. Don't think that someone will review for you, because they won't.
I really like reviews, but I like the reviewers a lot more. And I will respond. I always love it when my fav fanfic writers respond to my reviews, so I will respond to yours. I will listen to what you have to say, so please, please, please, please, PLEASE review. I will listen to what you have to say. I can be your own little phsychyatrist if you like, I don't care! Just make sure that you tell me what you think first, and then say whatever.
The next chapter, we are introduced to the Dagger, so tell me what you think I should do with that scene! :)
