Persian Nights – Chapter 10

Dastan woke midday with a pounding headache, but this one felt different than the previous ones. He turned his head to see Tamina sitting in a wicker chair reading through a scroll. She looked up when she noticed his eyes on her.

"So the prince finally decides to grace me with his company," she spoke in mocked indignation, smiling.

Slowly Dastan pushed him up to sitting position. "Tamina?" he questioned furrowing his brow. "Why do I feel like I've been out drinking?"

She gave him a wicked smirk. "The gods have chosen you, my husband, to be their Hand."

"What?" he said, racking his brain, remembering bits and pieces of what had happened. He remembered waking up to see her beautiful face gazing down at him and had vaguely paid attention to her when she had told him what had happened. And then in blast it all came back to him. "The gods possessed me…?" he muttered. "Why?"

Tamina placed the scroll she'd been reading down and stepped over to the bed and laid a hand on his chest, just above his heart. "Because you are noble and pure of heart, Dastan," she answered, smiling at him. "The gods say that you are destined for greatness. And that together, you and I will create a golden age in Persia."

"A golden age?" he raised an eyebrow. "How?"

Tamina looked at him with her fierce fiery eyes and smiled. "There is only one way to create such a thing, Dastan," she said, slowly removing her garments as she looked at him seductively. "We must conceive a child that shall carry on our legacy."

She slowly climbed onto bed beside him and Dastan's eyes beamed with desire for the woman he loved. He gave her his boyish grin as she leaned down to kiss him. His hands shot up and he pulled her too him. "I think I like this plan," he said, returning her kiss.

After they had made love, their afternoon was disturbed by a knock at the door. Dastan reluctantly pulled himself from the embrace of the woman he loved and draped a silk robe over his shoulders. He went to the door and opened it to find Tus.

"I'm sorry for intruding, Dastan," his brother said, giving him a knowing smile. "But father wishes to speak with you."

Dastan gave a nod, and told Tus he'd be right there. He returned to Tamina's side and pulled her into a kiss, running his hands through her silky dark hair. "It appears duty calls, princess," he sighed. "But don't worry, I'll be back shortly and we can continue."

Tamina smiled blissful. "I'll hold you to that, my Lion of Persia."

Dastan dressed quickly and made his way out to the great hall where his father was in deep talks with the Byzantine ambassador. Bis saw him and gave him a wink. "Enjoying your wedding bed, Dastan?" he asked, smiling.

He grinned at his friend. "If I enjoyed it anymore than I already do I'd not have the strength to walk."

Bis laughed slightly, but then stopped short when the ambassador's voice rose in anger.

"How dare you!" he shouted, his hawkish roman glare directed at Garsiv.

Garsiv stood abruptly and clenched his jaw. "I'll marry no plump sow, even if she were the last woman on Earth!"

"Garsiv!" Sharaman raised his voice, angered, trying to scold his son.

His brother turned to their father and bowed. "My apologies father," he said calmly, though his voice still held the same ferocity as to which he had directed at the ambassador. "But I will be no pawn in this emperor's hands. He seeks to take Persia from the Persians with this marriage, father. And I will have no part in that."

With that he turned and strolled briskly away, huffing indignantly. King Sharaman turned to the ambassador.

"Aulus, my apologies for my son," he quickly said. "I am sure he does not mean it. He is young and young men sometimes loose their temper."

"As do empires," the ambassador replied coolly. He stood. "I shall take my leave, King Sharaman. We shall talk again on the morrow." He looked in the direction of Dastan and Tus. "You have other sons to attend to."

The ambassador left the room, his jaw clenched tightly and his face growing red. The King slumped back down in his chair looking despondent. He looked up at Dastan and Tus as they approached.

"I do not think we can count on Garsiv to marry this Byzantine princess," Sharaman said. "Even if she is the sister of the Emperor."

Tus gave a nod. "I understand his feelings, father," he said. "My own marriages have not always been too kind to me."

Sharaman looked up at him, knowingly. "You speak of Astera, no doubt."

"Yes, father," Tus said. "I am sorry I cannot be the husband you were with mother that I am with her, but… she is… she is just difficult to get along with."

The King gave a nod and turned to Dastan. "And how do things go with you and the princess, my son?"

Dastan smiled warmly. "Very well, father," he replied. "We get along splendidly."

The King smiled, and gave him a knowing wink. "I shall not keep you from her long," he turned and gestured to Bis. Dastan's friend came over and laid out the map. Sharaman ran his fingers along the borders of the empire. "We are getting reports that the Hassassins have not disbanded like I had commanded. It appears that Nizam kept them in hiding at one of his many palaces."

Dastan gave a nod. He had known this, but had not said anything, hoping that the death of his uncle would have ended the matter. However, he had to admit, that such a thought was a little naïve, even for him.

Tus stepped forward. "I can see to them, father," he said confidently. Tus still wanted to make up for ordering the invasion of Alamut, albeit at Nizam's counsel.

Sharaman gave a nod. "You shall have it, Tus," he said. "As for you, Dastan, have you given any thought to what we spoke of yesterday?"

Dastan took a deep breath. "I think I understand, father," he said. "If I am to grow into the man I know I can become, I must sometimes choice the path that is not always the easiest. I shall stay in Alamut as you command and rule as viceroy with Tamina by my side."

Sharaman smiled, pleased. "She seems to be a good influence on you, my son," he said. "Keep her close, you shall no doubt be needing her advice quite often."

After seeing to some more business of state, his father finally released him, allowing Dastan to return to his bride. Entering their bedchambers, Dastan found Tamina sleeping. He smiled and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, before leaning over and kissing her forehead. She stirred at his touch and softly murmured his name, but did not wake. He pulled the blanket over her, tucking her in.

He turned to look at the scroll she had been reading earlier. He unrolled it and squinted at the words. Sure enough, it spoke of a prophecy concerning a prince not of noble blood who would become the Hand of the Gods. Dastan swallowed past the lump that had grown in his throat.

His father had been right. It appeared that he was, indeed, meant to be a great man. Dastan wondered if his father even suspected how great. To be the herald of a golden age was a heavy burden.

"Dastan?"

He turned at the sound of his name on her sweet voice. She was gazing at him with that hard stare of hers. Her hand reached out for him.

"Come to bed, my Prince of Persia," Tamina called. "And make love to me."

Dastan smiled and put the scroll down, allowing his fears and worries for the future to be brushed aside for the moment. Tonight he would be a husband with his wife. He stepped over to the bed, removing his clothing as quickly as possible, and climbed in, pulling her into his arms.

"I love you, Tamina," he whispered softly into her hear. "And I never want to be separated from you ever."

"Then shut up and kiss me before I seek company somewhere else!" she teased.

Dastan brushed her hair from her face and gazed lovingly at the beauty before him. Tamina, his princess… his wife. He gave her his boyish smirk and leaned forward, kissing her. Whatever the future held for them, he knew they would face it together; just as they had changed time, so too, would they write the future.

Together. As one.