4. Just Married
Dastan knew now that he was not exaggerating when he thought that he was as nervous as he had never been before in his whole life. He could feel his palms starting to sweat, the little thin hairs in his neck started to raise at the one thought that ruled all his thinking.
Tamina was waiting in their bed chamber. Right now. Alone. In their bed chamber.
A couple of hours ago they had been wed in the Great Hall by the words of an old Priest and with the paternal blessing of his father. He remembered the ceremony quite clearly. The moment when Tamina had walked down the aisles had cost him his breath. She looked more beautiful than any woman he'd ever seen. Nothing could have destroyed that moment, nothing could have ripped him off the feeling of being the luckiest lad alive. Though he had felt the sting of jealousy sneaking into his heart when it had been Asoka who escorted her towards the altar. Dastan didn't like the idea of any man touching the woman he loved. Although Asoka had taken her father's place at this day, Dastan couldn't quite get rid of the impression that Asoka's feelings towards Tamina were not of the paternal kind. Dastan shook his head in order to get this guy out of his thoughts. Tamina was his wife now, no force in the world could take her away from him now. His pulse quickened again when he let the meaning of those words sink into his mind. She was his wife now.
They both had attended the festivities of the wedding as the patient bride and groom and as traditions expected them to do so. And after the eating, and the drinking and the far too provocative and rude speeches, Tamina had left the feast in order to prepare herself for the last tradition on their wedding day.
Now, there he was, walking towards their bed chamber in order to fulfil his expected duty as the groom. Suddenly, the memory of this one kiss flashed through his mind. The kiss they had shared at the altar to seal their marital bound. Her lips had been sweet and soft under him, open, welcoming...
His eyes squeezed shut and his Adam's apple jumped in excitement as he swallowed hard, trying to fight back the fears and he couldn't but laugh at this curious new feeling.
He, Dastan, adopted son of the great king Sharaman, he, the Lion of Persia, he was scared.
Certainly, he was not afraid of Tamina, no, it was him he did not dare to trust. Since, he knew as soon as he passed that door to their bedchamber he would have the hardest fight he'd ever had in life- with his conscience.
He didn't intend to claim his right as the groom and the husband. Dastan had thought about it during the wedding ceremonial and when he'd kissed her he knew he didn't want to take her as his wife until she came to him willingly. He didn't want this to happen only because of duty and traditions, he wanted Tamina, not just as his wife, but as a woman. And he was willing to wait for this moment as long as he had to. Of course, he knew as soon as he passed that door he would have a hard time in resisting her..., well pretty literally. But he knew it was worth it. Tamina was worth it.
Dastan pushed the door open and sneaked into the chamber, his eyes observing the room in quick looks. The room was darkened, only a few candles lit their way to the centre of the chamber and there on the great bed sat no one but Tamina.
She was not looking at him, her eyes consequently pointed at her bare feet while her fine fingers were clenched to fists and dug violently into the white, soft sheets on the bed. He could see that she was just as nervous as he was. Her chest rose in a heavy, but steady rhythm and her cheeks started to redden, caused by his enduring and intense gaze.
And then finally she lifted her eyes to meet his look.
Dastan swallowed hard at what he saw in her dark brown eyes, now even darker than usual.
He could easily read the fear in her beautiful eyes, mists of fear clouded the divine brown, but there was still something else, too. A strange note of determination burnt in her eyes, and still, it was not the determination of a wife, nor of a priestess. It was the determination of a woman.
When he continued to remain silent and still, her eyes moved quickly like a frightened deer in the forest from right to left and up and down until they focused on him again. Then, she finally stood up and began to walk towards him. She was barely dressed as he could see now. She only wore a white night gown, more like a think silken cloak and he knew, he just knew that under this cloak was nothing but skin. His Adam's apple jumped at this thought and he felt his body tense at the sight of her. Her long, black hairs flowed now overtly over her shoulders, framing her fair face.
Dastan only got to know how damn close she already was when he felt her breath hitting his face in streams of the sweetest and loveliest scent he'd ever smelled. It was intoxicating. She was intoxicating. Automatically, he closed his eyes in order to gather his senses and his strength for those ultimate words than had to be said, but then he was completely torn out of his thoughts.
Her wonderful, slender fingers wandered to the thin belt that kept the silken night gown of a cloak together and she easily loosened the knot...and Dastan felt his determination slipping away under the promised sight of her velvet skin. But then...
Tamina stiffened immediately as his hands rushed forward and lay themselves around her wrists in a careful but tight grip. Her eyes were fixed on his chest instead of his face, she knew she couldn't muster the strength to look into his eyes while she was doing this. His breath was heavy and hard and burnt on her skin like pure fire, but he didn't do anything. Moments passed and he still just kept her wrists in his grip, holding her from undressing any further. Being this close to him was dangerous, dangerous for her determination, for her senses, her duty, her whole being as a Guardian.
However, she had never really believed she could get through with this without losing something of herself to him and to the mystery that he was.
As the grip on her wrists loosened again, she wanted to continue taking off her night gown and again, she found her hands captivated by his strong finger's grip.
"Tamina, could you just stop...undressing yourself?".
His voice coming from the back of his throat made her shiver heavily and her eyes fell shut for the glimpse of a moment as she gave herself into the sound of this voice- until she understood what he just said.
"What?", her tone was high pitched and destroyed the last bits of this sensual moment. Dastan freed himself from the feeling of being intoxicated by her by clearing his throat several times.
"I don't want this, Tamina.".
"You don't...want...me?" she asked and couldn't but smile in disbelief at this thought. Dastan sighed at her words and walked away from her. He stopped at the bed where he took a sip of wine from the can on the table.
"Am I not good enough for you, Persian?".
At this point her words were sharp as deadly blades and her eyes just as small and fierce as they had never been before: after all, she was still a woman and she had never been good at rejections. Dastan chuckled lowly at her words and turned around. His eyes flew over her state of undress; the cloak of a night gown was still half opened and exposed a great deal of her legs and her decolletes. Her eyes fell down to the floor at his gaze and her cheeks reddened again while her hands rushed forward to rearrange her dressing.
"You know it's not like that.".
"What is it then, Dastan?".
"You don't love me." he stated and she was shocked and silenced by this truth that seemed to mean so much to him, "And I know you're only willing to do this because you think some old traditions and duties expect you to do so. But you're not doing this because of me, not because you want me.".
Tamina remained silent at his words, she didn't really know what to say to such sincerity and what could she respond? That it was not true? That would be a violation to all her duties and moralities and above all else a violation of her pride.
"I can wait and I will wait." he said and his words made shivers run down her spine. She closed her eyes at his words, trying not to show any of her feeling that ran rampage within her heart. One part of her was shocked at his words, since a marriage was only sealed by the physical consummation.
The other part of her felt relieved and even charmed by his offer to wait. She knew beyond any doubt that no other man would have offered her to wait. However, there was still a little voice within her that did not want to wait. Although she would never admit it to herself, duty was not the only force that drew herself to him. But still she remained silent. Not ready to make this revelation, not ready to swallow down her pride.
"I will only take you fully as my wife when you really want to take me fully as your husband. On the day you come to me in true love and desire, not just as my wife, but as a woman.".
Dastan sighed heavily when he rolled to the other side of the bed, before he finally opened his eyes.
The sun was already at its highest peek and the other side of the bed was already empty, not even the shallow scent of warmth was left to tell him that he'd shared a bed with his wife Tamina.
The thought was electrifying for two reasons. First, still he couldn't really believe that they were married now, husband and wife, drawn together for the rest of their lives. And second, he indeed shared a bed with her, but unfortunately nothing more than that.
Tamina had left their bedchamber quite early in the morning and he couldn't get rid of the thought that she had left not just because of the preparations for the coronation today. Last night, he had told her about his story of the Sands of Time and the treacherous spy that still walked within the walls of her city. Apart from that, she was possibly still mad with him that he rejected her as she stated it.
Sometimes, Dastan had the feeling women would try to misunderstand men on purpose.
He sighed again as he sat up straight, stretching his still numb and tired limbs, blinking furiously at the sudden flash of light that pierced through the open windows. Instantly, a memory burnt through his mind and he felt his body shake at the sensation. He had hardly slept the night. His mind had been far too aware of the fact that it was Tamina's body who lay next to him. His skin had felt the warmth of her body right next to him and he knew that all he would have had to do was stretching out his arm and he could have touched her. His hands could have wandered down her body, admiring her curves and the softness of her flesh, drowning in the sweet scent that her long black hair promised. He could have felt how it would feel when she shivered beneath him, wounding her legs around his hips, moaning his name and his name alone when he'd pleased her.
A heavy shiver ran down his spine when he closed his eyes and tried to calm his wild thoughts or the hardened arch he felt in his linen trousers. He knew he wanted to wait for her. But last night had been more torturous than any other battle he'd ever fought.
And he knew there were a lot more battles and nights to come.
Dastan sighed relieved when he finally took off the heavy ceremonial robe, the white stiff fabric had felt so unnatural to him and he felt liberated, now that he could feel the fresh air on his upper body again. He threw the robe on the bed and again his glance twitched back to the small and filigree crown that lay on the bed. He was king now. Well, theoretically only a King Consort, but still he was king. And she was his queen. Dastan knew the coronation had only been a formality. It had been a condition of her father, that she had to be married first before she could gain the title of the Queen of Alamut. However, Tamina had always been the highest authority of Alamut, due to the fact that she was the last of her house. Therefore, the coronation hadn't been necessary, but it was a tradition, and in Alamut traditions were all that mattered, Dastan thought contemptuously.
Dastan startled when he heard the creaking of the door and instantly he jumped around.
Tamina stood on the treshold and stared at him with big, mysterious eyes. She was still dressed in those white, ceremonial clothes that exposed a lot of her cinnamon skin to his eyes. In the flickering light of the candles that lit the room he could see the painted henna tattoos. Dark, black letters claimed her arms and legs and fingers, speaking old and foreign tongues on her throat and even in her face. A long black line was painted on her face, a horizontal line that run over her eyes and emphasized the powerful brown pupils even more. Her pitch black hair ran down her shoulders, but he knew it would not run down her back any more.
Still he felt the shivers back in his spine when he thought at the moment when the priest had drawn the knife and cut her hair. A sacrifice of blood and part of the flesh of the monarch had been needed to seal the swear of everlasting loyalty to her people, her throne and her duty. That moment in the Great Hall when she had spoken her swear three times, when she had made her sacrifice, that moment had been thickened with an atmosphere of days of old honour and dignity. She had looked so big, so unreachable for him when she's stood there in the middle of the Great hall, the impressive crown on her open hair, the purple mantle around her small shoulders. So divine. Like a true queen.
However, now, she looked small and fragile again, the purple mantle under her arms, the crown in her left hand, she looked human again, she was Tamina again.
Dastan was torn out of his thoughts when she cleared her throat, he tried locking eyes with her but she looked away and he knew she felt uncomfortable with him staring at her like that. Instantly he looked away and swallowed hard, trying to gather his thoughts.
"Turn around. I'd like to change.".
His head came up when he heard her words and he was once again confronted with her deep, brown eyes. He then turned around quickly, his eyes trying to focus on something, anything, in order to not think about the fact that the rustling of noises behind his back meant that she'd soon be naked.
Dastan stared into the flickering light that came from the candles, he tried to focus on the exact technique of a back flip, the most dangerous battle he'd ever thought, the days when he used to spit seeds at Garsiv...but none of this was helping. His ears did hear what was happening behind him.
He desperately closed his eyes, trying to ignore the sounds he heard, sounds that meant so much to his mind and which inflamed his thoughts with images of her wonderful, young body.
Dastan's heart stopped dead for a beat or two when he felt that her arms embraced him from behind, her arms coming around, driving over his chest and pressing him against her. He swallowed hard when he felt that she was completely naked and this thought made his pulse quicken in response. Her young breasts pressed themselves into his back and he felt his hands twitch at the longing to touch her. Tamina rested her head on his shoulder and breathed in his scent, sighing relieved and thoughtfully.
"Don't you even want to look at me, Dastan?".
He shivered in her embrace and took her words all in before he turned around quickly, almost too quickly for her to get his movements. Automatically, she took a hesitant step backwards, but his strong, calloused hands rushed forward and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him and she gasped at what she saw in his eyes. There was pure, wild desire, a longing so overwhelming that one could hardly call it human any more. His almost pitch black eyes burnt themselves into hers and she felt her stomach fly with butterflies of fear and desire at the sight of those looks. She had always known how it felt to be desired, but she had never felt the wonders of responding to such feelings.
She waited anxiously, hopefully for him to kiss her and indeed she could feel his breath on her face. But he did not kiss her, his lips didn't melt together with hers, didn't capturing, conquering all her senses- he just kept staring at her, before he finally turned away. And so she kept on burning in dry flames, feeding on ashes and not on the fire that longed to be satisfied.
