*pokes head out shyly from behind keyboard* Hi… Yes, actually, I am alive and well contrary to what some of you may believe.
Now, this is just one of the most terrible things I have EVER done in my life, and I can't believe that I went a full 19 DAYS before updating. I am ashamed of myself and have been kicking myself all week, and for a little bit longer. May I attempt to explain my tardiness? Well, during that wonderful Spring Break that I hope we all enjoyed (those of you poor souls who haven't been blessed with it yet, I am soooo sorry, and I hope it comes with haste. :D) well, you guys tired me out, I guess. I am astounded by the amount of reviews this story has received, and I am sooooo sorry if I made you think that I hadn't reached that quota. Quite the contrary, we probably reached it during the day. However, that Friday, I had slept over at a friend's house, and the next day, I needed a breather. I didn't have any good ideas for this story whatsoever, and I didn't want to post something that I wasn't proud of. Now...THIS week...well, it has been a rather dreadful, long, tiring week. I have had six tests this week, had a concert on Wednesday night, been up to the neck in homework from my online class, and during all of this, planning a party for a friend of mine. And trying to get in little work outs here and there. It has been a very, VERY stressful time right now, as it always in towards the end of the school year, you know? And believe me, I have had ideas buzzing in my head for this story ALL WEEK, but I haven't had ANY time at ALL to write any of it down, let alone update.
So, there is my excuse. I hope that it is good enough. I am really sorry, and I am going to try to prevent that from happening ever EVER again. I did not like it in the slightest.
You guys are amazing reviewers, as I have said many, many times, but I don't think that I would ever be able to say it enough for you guys to understand how great I feel to have such sophistocated people reviewing this story, chapter after chapter. And for those of you who aren't reveiwing, well, go ahead and start! I'd love to hear from you! :D
I'm sure you are tired of hearing me go on about my stressful life and my undying love for you all, so FINALLY, here is the chapter that we have all secretly been looking forward. This should be fun!
Ranin stumbled into the castle, the prince beside him calm and almost careless in his movements. It was hard for the little child to actually believe that this great warrior had once been in a very similar situation as the boy. But this man had been blessed, given a family to love, and food to relieve the ache in his belly. And endless water to quench his parched throat.
But still, Ranin did not know this mysterious man. He was a Persian, and it was the Persians who had conquered the city just days ago, mercilessly killing all of those who obstructed their well thought out path. Could he trust this prince? He did not know. The Princess of Alamut seemed joyous considering the circumstances, but that didn't mean anything.
Was this Persian just as cruel as his fellow warriors? Had he, in fact, instigated the attack on thier city? What was his intent with the Princess? Did he have a possible ulerior motive? So many questions buzzed around in the confused mind of the little boy, causing a dull ache to arise in his temples for thinking so deeply. Ranin clasped his temples, rubbing them gently and trying to ease the pain away. He sighed when the pain receded a little and looked back up at the prince who was smiling happily at him.
What about this smile? What is a smile of mischievousness? Evil? Cruelty? Or was it what it looked to be? A smile of nothing but joy and comfort.
"There is nothing to be afraid of, Ranin," the prince spoke tenderly to Ranin, calming his nerves slightly. He still didn't know what to think, but this man did seem to be sincere in his interest in him and his health. Whether it was for good or bad reasons, the young boy had no clue, but he knew that he was going to be remaining on his guard until he understood the prince of Persia a little better.
Nevertheless, Ranin grinned back, challenging the prince. He would not allow Prince Dastan to see his nervousness. He would not be weak in front of such an unpredictable man. "I am not afraid," he replied stubbornly, gazing back into the blue eyes of the prince who seemed to doubt it for a minute, but the prince didn't comment, only smiling a little grander.
"Of course not," Dastan said with resolution, "One like you is afraid of nothing, eh?" he continued a little lighter, sarcasm coating his voice and insulting the little boy. Ranin did not appreciate it, making him feel all the more nervous.
The young child blinked, contemplating his response carefully. "A boy such as me has many things to fear in his lifetime," he told the prince carefully, looking down at the floor in concentration as he said it.
Dastan frowned, remembering the days of his early childhood all too vividly. It was something that he would never wish upon anyone. Nizam probably didn't even deserve such a worry. Living from one day to the next, never even knowing if, in the morning, you would wake up. It was a chance that you would have to take when you would close your eyes for the night. Some children didn't sleep at all, and some slept with their eyes constantly squinted, not even really sleeping. They had to be on thier guard. And it hurt to see anyone going through that same situation that he had been born into. But it hurt even more to see the children who had been abandoned.
Dastan awoke in the morning, rubbing his eyes and snuggling further into the warm wool of his bed. However, his filth covered face did not meet the warm wool. It met cold, splintering wood that scratched his cheek when he moved.
He cracked one hazy blue eye open, looking around carefully and observing everything with a keen eye.
There was no one around, thankfully and finally, Dastan gathered the strength to sit, crossing his bony legs as he did so. His small feet were covered in scrapes and bruises from his constant walking, and his calves still were lifeless and thin, barely even holding him up while going on said walks. His thighs were small too, no muscle surrounding the bone, only several gruesome bruises from a place he had been kicked. His waist, small and timid gurgled in a soft plea, already seeming to know the answer to its pained wails. His muscles along his back were sore from his night sleeping on wood, pain erupting all over his spine when he stretched.
Dastan was nothing but a skeleton now. His parents had been gone for months, and there was no hearing from them, most likely for forever. They weren't coming back. They didn't believe that there was any other solution.
The life of a performer was the life he had to live, and even then, there was nothing but a few scraps of paper left for him and maybe one or two coins at the end of the tedious day. He could rarely afford a meal, living off of the free meals that one of his old neighbors continuously offered him.
He didn't like asking for the help of others, believing that the gods would bless him after testing his strength. But after so long, there would be days where he would fight to land on their door step and pound on the meager door. His mouth would be dry and his eyes lifeless, as if his soul no longer occupated the sickly body.
"Your Majesty?" the prince heard, snapping out of his painful thoughts. He didn't like thinking about the past he had endured without his real parents. But they weren't his parents anymore. He had his father, and that was all that mattered to him.
"Yes, Bis?" he asnwered tentatively, seeing the uneasiness in his comrade's brown orbs.
"It's Tamina...She..." he started even more nervously, looking anywhere but into Dastan's eyes.
"What?" Dastan asked quickly, striding over to his lifelong friend and grabbing him fiercely by the shoulders. "What's wrong with Tamina?"
"She wants to talk to you," Bis said quietly. He looked over Dastan's shoulder, eyeing the little child warily. "Who is the child?" he asked.
"Don't scare me like that, Bis! Talking with her is not like talking with Satan, I assure you. Oh, the boy? Yes, I found him on the street, like Father found me. I thought that I would repay the act Father did for me and extend such an offering to the boy. No, I do not intend to adopt him, but I do want him to live here. He needs a home, and this is the least that we can do."
Bis looked unsure, biting his bottom lip to further prove the emotion. "Dastan, I think that it is wonderful that you want to save the lives of poor children like you father saved you, but I think that it is not only you that you have to consider when making decisions, especially decisions such as these. Tamina needs to know that you want to care for this child before you already invite him into your home, which technically isn't even your home yet. I hear that you two just fought anyways, which made this an even riskier move. Do you ever think things through?" Bis asked, voicing his opinion quite frankly and somewhat astounding Dastan. Never before had he heard his best friend talk in such a reproachful manner towards him. But now that he thought about what he had done, he understood what Bis was saying perfectly. More than perfectly. Tamina was going to kill him. And she would enjoy doing such a thing too, he had not doubt.
"What do you propose I do? I said that I'm not adopting him!" he exclaimed, getting a little harsher and scaring Rinan slightly. He sent the boy a small smile and an apologetic gaze, but it didn't seem to do enough to make the boy feel more comfortable again.
Bis glared at Dastan furiously. "Don't go yelling at me about something that you should not have done in the first place! This isn't my quarrel. Talk to Tamina, but you better pray first." Bis scoffed angrily and then trumped away, leaving the small boy in the hall without so much as a glance.
"He does not want me here, does he?" Ranin's small voice squeaked nervously. Dastan looked at him and saw the anxiety buried deep in the child's brown eyes. It was wrong, what Dastan had done. He should not have brough the boy to the palace. He should not have done this. He could have very easily walked to a little shop and bought the boy a nice meal.
But Father took you in, did he not? A small annoying voice chimed in the back of his head.
Father always said that I had the makings of a king in me... Dastan replied to it, pinching his nose in a nervous manner.
And this boy does not? the voice continued.
I wasn't trying to steal out of someone's pockets when Father found me, Dastan returned harshly. What had he done?
No, you weren't. You were caught trying to evade the law.
For Bis, Dastan replied. Now, shut up.
The voice thankfully left, but Dastan figured that it wouldn't be the last time he would encounter such a devious trick of his mind.
Instead, he turned to the boy, who was hurt and confused with the chaos going on around him. "It does not matter what he wants," Dastan replied slowly. "He is not the prince."
"But you do not own this place, do you? It isn't your decision to make by yourself," the small child said quietly, bowing his head in shame. It was too good to be true. Everything that had been in his grasp suddenly vanished. Like when you are stranded in the middle of the desert, and you cannot help but see that large pool of water that you never seem to walk to. It evades you every time. A cruel trick that the devil would play against your eyes. It would show you the thing you wanted most in this world, and take it away, or simply flaunt it in front of you, while you have no means whatsoever to hold it in your hands. Like water, it always slips out of his hands, slippery and oh so evasive.
"Tamina will understand," Dastan said in an even quieter voice. He hoped Tamina would understand. What would happen if she didn't? What type of heart ache this child would have to go through when he would be told that it was nothing more than a lie that was spoken as a truth? A promise that could not be kept.
Ranin shook his head slowly. "I don't think she will." Dastan looked carefully at the boy, watching as Ranin blinked quickly, and scratched just underneath his eye as if he had the urge to itch. However, Dastan knew better. The boy was crying. Crying because he knew that in perhaps days, he would die of starvation or thirst. Or die in the coldness of the night. Whatever the boy thought, it would end in death.
"You don't know her as well as I do," Dastan responded, trying to comfort the boy, but from the looks of it, it wasn't helping ease the child's pained conscience in the least.
"Dastan?" the prince heard, and quickly, he turned around, his bangs draping his blue eyes and obscuring his vision, but he didn't need sight to tell him who it was who had spoken to him. It was Tamina.
The prince slowly pushed away the bangs and made eye contact with the princess. She looked upset, not angry like she had been, but still. She looked as if she was willing to negotiate or talk about the breakfast. She was willing to makes amends. Dastan sighed. "Yes?"
"I thought Bis told you that I needed to speak with you? Did he not find you?" she asked nervously, now avoiding his eyes. She didn't want to argue anymor ewith him. She didn't like doing it. She knew that she shouldn't have been so inconsiderate. He was right in some ways, after all.
"He found me," Dastan said slowly, looking down at the ground. What to do now?
"And you chose not to come to speak with me?" she asked, looking up at him now, hurt painfully obvious in her eyes. Did he not care for her anymore? Did he still not want to talk to her?
"No!" the prince yelped quickly, coming to her side in an instant, cupping her supple face in his over sized, callous hands. "I mean...I was preoccupied..." he said slower, looking over his shoulder to the little boy who was eyeing the two of them warily.
Tamina followed his gaze, even standing on her tip toes to see what he was looking at, or rather who. It was a small boy, probably around the age of ten or eleven. His dirty skin was hanging off his bones which were vivid and obvious. His dark hair was sprawled around his head in unruly patches, and his clothes were nothing but torn pieces of rags. His lips were blistered and cracked, begging for water and sucking whatever moisture there was from said lips, even if it meant harming them. His round eyes were glazed, not shiny in the slightest and hurt and confused. And even worried about the events that were to come. "Dastan?" she asked again, this time with curiosity and nervousness. She had a faint idea as to why the boy was here, but she so desperately wanted that thought to be false. "Please tell me that what I am thinking right now is not what's going on. Please."
Dastan sighed and looked at the boy. "We should talk somewhere else," he murmured into her ear. She sighed, having her answer officially, but still, she agreed to talk somewhere else.
They walked into a little desolate room, hiding from the world. Dastan looked very worried, running his hands through his hair several times. Tamina only stared at him, not sure whether she should feel angry, or hurt, or confused, or sympathetic, or curious. "Do you want to tell me what is going on, or am I to infer on my own the current situation?" she asked, her slightly harsher than she had originally wanted it to be.
He sighed, running another hand through his hair before dropping it to his side. "Why don't we talk about this morning first?" he suggested. "That way we can resolve one conflict before possibly going into another."
The Princess looked at him warily. "Is that because you think that we are going to fight again, or are you being serious?"
He shrugged. "Both, probably."
"Alright, fine. What do you want to talk about then?" she said, seating herself in a dusty chair in the corner of the room and crossing her ankles and staring at him steadily.
"You were the one who wanted to talk to me first. Surely, you must have something to say," Dastan argued.
Tamina huffed. "I was going to say that I was sorry for the way I acted this morning. I didn't think about the impact my death must have had on you, and I should not have been as inconsiderate as I was. You weren't the one to make the decision about my life, and it should not be a burden that you have to carry. I know that that sounds cruel, but trust me Dastan," she said softly. "I am alive. You don't have to worry about that anymore. It is nothing but the past."
"But you and I both know that the past sometimes comes back. Because of our relationship in that other life, we have the one we do now."
"Having a relationship in another life is not the same as having one in the past, Dastan," Tamina interrupted.
"But in a way, it is," he said calmly. "That other life is behind us -"
"Exactly my point, Dastan -"
"And that makes it the past," he continued. "Which makes it a memory. Which makes it real."
Tamina opened her mouth, but then stopped. She hadn't thought of it that way before. She looked down at her hands and twiddled her thumbs in embarrassment. She heard Dastan kneel down in front of her and his large hands engulfed her own small ones. He bent down lower to look into her eyes. "Tell me something," he said in an even softer voice than before, his eyes wide with sincerity. "If it had been me who had fallen." Tamina shivered at the thought. "would you not be angry with me for believing what you are suggesting?" Tamina gulped. She couldn't imagine losing Dastan like he had lost her.
She sighed and looked away from his eyes, tears already beginning to fill her own. "Why do you always have to be right?" she said defeatedly.
Dastan laughed, glad she could finally understand his constant worry as far as she was concerned. "Why do you always have to be so stubborn all of the time?" he retorted playfully.
She laughed too, feeling much better, like a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders and she could finally breathe. Tamina did not arguing with Dastan. It hurt her more than she would have thought it would.
Finally, when their laughter subsided a little, she looked into his eyes, seeing happiness in them. "I'm sorry," she said slowly, reaching up to stroke his cheek. He leaned into her hand and looked her in the eye.
"Me too," he said gently before finally leaning up to kiss her just as gently. Her lips were slightly salty from the tears that had refused to stay inside their optical worlds, and quickly, he kissed those away, smiling when she would laugh as his beard tickled her cheek. "I love you," he said passionately, pulling away to look into her eyes.
She smiled joyfully. "I love you back," she returned. They sat there for a moment longer, enjoying that now, they finally resolved that rock in their shoe. Niether enjoyed fighting with the other, but knowing them, it had to happen eventually, and knowing them, it would probably happen again. No relationship was perfect, and even though both wanted theirs to be nothing but, they knew that that would never be the case. They were both too passionate about thier opinions, and both were too stubborn to conform easily to another way of thinking.
"Dastan?" she asked again for the third time that afternoon.
"Hmm?" he murmured, his nose currently in her hair and his eyes closed in tranquillity.
"Who was the little boy out in the chamber?" she asked. True, she wasn't sure if she actually wanted to know the answer to that question, but she knew that she had to. Tamina felt him stiffen around her before actually pulling away and looking away from her. "Dastan, please don't tell me what I think you are going to tell me." He didn't move. "Dastan! I understand that you love your father, and that you wish to be the epitome of him, but you have to understand that right now, that probably was not a very wise thing to do! You haven't even married me yet, and already you are making decisions that require two answers, not just one. You have to talk to me before you act so rash! What in the gods names were you thinking? Inviting a boy to live here with us as your son?"
"Not as my son," he interruped. "As a young boy who needs somewhere to sleep and a plate to eat off of. Not as my son," he repeated.
Tamina looked at him. "Dastan, that doesn't matter. The fact of the manner is, you invited a boy off the streets to live here in the palace without you even being a monarch here. That wasn't your decision to make. In fact, you should have no part in inducting children into this palace. I understand what you are trying to do, and I appreciate that, and I think that it is wonderful, but you can't do this without talking to me!"
"You already said that," he said simply, looking down and feeling ashamed.
"Because you never seem to undestand when it is in your place to say or do such things! When are you going to grow up and understand this?" she exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air.
"Tamina, please...let's not fight..." he said weakly, reaching for her, though she pulled away from him. He looked hurt.
"If you didn't want to fight, maybe you should have thought before you acted. Maybe then, you wouldn't be in this predicament!" she yelled before leaving the room and slamming the door loudly.
The boy stood there, outside in the same place she had left him.
"Turn out your pockets," she commanded, and boy was quick to do so, his pockets turning up empty. Tamina sighed and put her hand on her forehead. She stopped a maid in the hall. "Take him to the kitchens to eat. The poor boy is nothing but bones." The boy looked startled, as if he too wasn't expecting something so fortunate to happen to him. "Go before I change my mind," she said tiredly, and the boy scurried away with the maid who grabbed his hand.
She was going to kill Dastan.
Okay, so there it is. Kinda happy with it, kinda not. It's difficult. Hope you guys aren't mad at me for making them argue again. But trust me, this is all part of my plan. I know what I'm doing. Trust me.
Sorry again for taking so long for the update, and hopefully, something this tragic will never happen EVER EVER again.
Please review! Even if you wanna tell me you hate me for taking so long to update, please feel free. I deserve it. *bows head in shame*
Love you all lots!
