Woo hoo for all who adore Zolm's Badass Hassansin Den! They could kick those guys ass. And YAYY for Bromance! You guys are such kick ass readers!

Today was my last day at the library! Ugh things are about to get really busy for me! But don't worry we've got a bit longer with this fic and we'll keep the awesomeness going to the end!

Now back to the story!


It was mid day before they made it out of the cave.

Only three women seemed even remotely strong enough to make it out of the caves, much less to make it back to Alamut. Three women, five boys. It was hard to say which group seemed more skittish around them. The women could barely walk but the boys refused to sit still even for a moment. It was unsettling to see five boys who bore an odd resemblence to Zolm with their bright, fevered eyes and quick, precise movements. The women at least seemed to take comfort in each other but there was no comrodary among the boys, all of whom seemed to be judging whether or not they shoud kill each other. Even the presence of Zolm who was clearly a Hassansin did nothing to comfort them. They looked at him with the same odd intent, as though wondering if this too was a part of their test.

"Far as I can tell they've got no names," Bis said, "no ages-though the oldest can't be more than eleven-who knows how long they've been down there-"

"Four years," Tamina answered, her soft voice edged in steel, "they've been in there for four years. Thats why they have cloths and the knives."

They all stared at her but for the life of her Tamina could not meet their eyes. She had been filled with disgust when Zolm told her of the Hassansins training. Even what she had been told could not have prepared her for the reality of it. Seeing the deadened expression that was so unsettling on a grown man's face on the features of children was something she wondered if anyone could truly be prepared to see. At least the women seemed to understand that they had been saved. The children, Tamina was not so sure they understood anything anymore. It was a horrible thing to see. Taking a deep breath Tamina looked at the group of them.

"What are we going to do with them?" she asked, looking at Dastan and Garsiv.

They had set out to eradicate the Hassansins, not to rescue anyone. But the eight people in front of them needed rescuing, even though five of them very well might be the future of a threat. All she knew was that the boys behind her had survived for four years in the dark caves, escape just out of their reach. She did not know how far gone they were or how strong the corruption was. Had they been warped by the Hassansins they found-could they even be considered further warped after what they had been through? She did not know what Dastan and Garsiv would want to do with the boys.

But she knew she had to take their wishes into consideration.

The boys were Persian and given that it was Nizam who supplied the women, Tamina was fairly certain the women were as well. They were Persian citizens on Persian land, captors of a Persian threat. She had no power over them, any sway her words held were solely because of her marriage to Dastan. Garsiv was the eldest Prince there and the one who held their fates in his hands. Garsiv and Dastan were silent, looking at each other. Garsiv looked at his brother for another moment before looking at Tamina and nodding his head. Tamina understood his look and nodded her consent, following him a little away from the others.

Garsiv seemed unusually agitated, worry bright in his usually angry eyes. It was unsettling to see such an emotion in the second Prince's eyes. Garsiv looked back at Dastan and Bis before turning towards the desert, seemingly searching for the right words. He seemed anxious. Anxious and deeply unsettled. Realization crashed into Tamina.

"You know about the Hassansin's training," Tamina said, too surprised to worry about the note of accusation in her voice.

"Yes," Garsiv said finally, "in far more detail than your friend has told you," he continued, anger sparking in his eyes, "those boys over there do not see each other as human beings. They see each other as targets, obstacles. The moment we leave them alone they will kill each other."

"What do you mean?" Tamina demanded. Garsiv was silent, "tell me," Tamina said.

"If this Den followed the ways of the Hassansin, four years ago there were thirty boys in those caves," Garsiv said, "thirty," he repeated, "by the time they were let out there would be three."

Tamina stared at him, horror flooding her. They set it up, weeding out the best of the best for further training. She had heard rumors of Hassansins, of how they could infiltrate any circle, move unseen in any palace. Even after they had been disbanded legend of their skill still was whispered in the palace, as though to speak of it would bring the black robed men down on them. If they killed even as children, then it was no wonder they were so skilled. They were skilled because they had to be. Because there was no other choice. Desperately Tamina tore her eyes away from the Prince to look back at the boys, as though needing to see with their own eyes that they were still there. But Garsiv grasped her arm, his grip gentle but the message clear as he turned her gaze back to him.

"Dastan does not know," he said, holding her gaze before looking away and swearing. Finally he looked at her once more, "there are things that he does not know," he continued, "things there was no need for him to know. THough he does not share my blood, he is my brother," he said, his voice firm as though he too needed to remember such a thing, "but he will never be King. There are things in Persia that he does not know. Things my father thought were better left unsaid."

Outrage on behalf of her husband surged through Tamina. She was not naive enough to think that the other members of the Persian Royal Family would not have secrets from each other. And she had a feeling that the King deciding not to tell Dastan the darker of the family secrets had a lot to do with an old man wishing to shelter his son. But as she stood there in the desert with the second Prince, all she was aware of was how angry it made her. Dastan had suffered so much to be adopted by the King and the idea that the people in front of her were foolish enough to think that keeping secrets was somehow protecting him suddenly made her so angry it was difficult to see.

"Be that as it may," Tamina said, her voice tight, "they are children and they do not deserve to die for a life they should never have been forced into."

"Whatever you think them," Garsiv said, "however you see them. They are not children."

"Yes," Tamina said shortly, "they are. And if you will not have them they will be welcome somewhere else!"

Garsiv looked at her, anger now replacing all the worry she had seen on his face. But even she knew the balance of power had shifted. She could offer them amnesty, if nothing else. Something that was hers to offer within the walls of her city. They were still in Persian territory but if she got those boys safety back to Alamut there was little the men could do. From the look on Garsiv's face, the idea was not a pleasing one. He wanted the last of the Hassansins killed and she had a feeling that included Zolm as well. She forced her eyes to stay locked with his.

"Hassansins were almost the downfall of your city," Garsiv said, his voice low and angry, "and yet you welcome them so easily?"

"Alamut is a place of forgiveness," Tamina said through gritted teeth, "something you should know well."

Garsiv's mouth opened but no words came from his parted lips. She had managed not to bring up the Persian invasion. But at the thought of him so easily denying the forgiveness she had shown to his people made anger surge through her. Forgiveness was not his to deny, it was hers to offer. Forcing herself not to speak another word, Tamina turned around and walked back to where the Hassansin and the boys stood. They all turned to look at her with the same unnerving gaze, the bright eyes unsettling when there were so many of them.

"We ride for Alamut," she said, "the women on the horses and whatever room is left for children."

"Aren't we walking then?" Bis asked, looking at Dastan.

Dastan looked between his livid wife and his equally murderous looking older brother. They had been alone for all of five minutes and they suddenly wanted to kill each other. Dastan wished he did not understand the uncanny ability both seemed to have to infuriate a person in record time. Almost as much as he wished he had kept them separate. The two of them could start a war if left in the same room for a longer stretch of time. He looked down at Bis who was also very well acquainted with the infamously short tempers. Bis looked up at him before letting out a breath, shaking his head.

"Who first?"

"Try to calm her down," Dastan said, nodding towards Tamina.

"Sure sure," Bis said, "I'll just tell her another story," he walked over to towards the Princess, "this is why I can't go back to Persia!" he called over to Dastan, "you need me too much!"

"Whatever makes you feel better!" Dastan called back, walking over to Garsiv.

Garsiv was muttering to himself, looking out at the sands with one hand pressed to the side of his head and the other gripping his sword so tightly his knuckles were white. That, at least, there was some comfort in. If Garsiv was really angry enough to kill, he knew that they would already be dead. Gripping the weapon just meant that he was really, really angry. Not murderous, but angry. Looking back he saw Bis and Tamina talking-or Bis was talking and Tamina was looking as though she was seriously considering taking out her bow and shooting someone. Quickly Dastan refocused his attention on the problem at hand.

"Your hands on your sword-" he began.

"You cannot possibly want to stay in Alamut," Garsiv said turning around to face Dastan, "you are a fighter, Dastan, not some-some-" he looked around, as though the right word lay on the ground, "not some pacifist fool willing to forgive without a second thought!"

Dastan looked at Garsiv, surprised at the naked emotion on his brothers face. There was more to the fight than just what was going on with the children behind them, that was just the beginning of what was wrong. The tip of the mountain. Standing there Dastan sorely wished that Tus was there to get them to talk about what they were feeling in that peculiar way of his. He and Garsiv were of the sword, they fought the way that men were supposed to fight. Unfortunately Dastan knew neither of them were going to be doing much more fighting that day. Not if the agony seeping past Tamina's ointments was any indication.

"Thats a bit harsh, don't you think?" Dastan asked, "if they weren't forgiving we would be in a lot more trouble."

"Or maybe we should have just conquered the place and been done with it!"

Dastan looked at his brother, forcing himself not to reply to his brothers angry words. Somehow he thought that standing there, atop a Den of dead Hassansins, yelling at Garsiv was not the brightest idea in the world. Especially not when there were eight confused, angry, broken people behind them and a Hassansin who seemed angry enough to want to kill someone just to feel better. Garsiv was silent, glaring as Dastan took a breath and forced himself to speak.

"You don't mean that."

"Maybe I do!" Garsiv challenged.

"You sound like a child."

"You sound like an idiot!"

"Would you stop yelling?" Dastan shouted.

Both of them fell silent, glaring at each other as the earlier maturity Dastan felt gave way to the rise only his brother seemed to get out of him. The two of them looked at each other before looking away, neither entirely comfortable with the situation at hand. Dastan had a feeling he knew where the conversation was going and it was one he sorely wished that he did not have to have. There had been so much chaos, so much to do, the subject of their different living situation, of how they would be separate, had never come up. Tus would be saddened by it but he would be rational. Garsiv, who was so ruled by his emotions would be angry.

"So that is your plan?" Garsiv questioned, his voice tight, "you are just going to stay behind the gilded walls of Alamut? Grow old and fat like Tus is going to?"

"Of course I am not going to grow old and fat in the 'gilded walls'-and neither is Tus for that matter-and what about you? Do you think you are going to be riding off to war until you drop dead?"

From the look on Garsiv's face it was clear that had been his brothers plan all along. The idea of Garsiv laying dead on a battlefield was an unsettling one-made even worse knowing how close they had come to that very situation. Dastan closed his eyes. Garsiv had an obligation, both to Tus and to Persia itself. Just as he had one to Alamut and the guardians of the Dagger. He knew he would see his brothers but their days of wreaking havoc on the palace and being sent off to war together were coming to an end-though he knew the days of wreaking havoc should have probably ended a while ago. Not to mention the past month he had been so distraught he had been terrible company.

Dastan knew his older brothers did not like change, especially not Garsiv. He had put up a fuss when Dastan had first come to live with them when Tus had first begun to take on his duties as the heir, even when they had begun to get married. Now there was another change happening and Garsiv was once more not happy with it. And if he looked deep down inside Dastan knew he did not want things to change drastically either, certainly not as drastically as they were about to. Dastan looked up at his brother. Garsiv tore his eyes from the desert to look back at Dastan.

"You aren't going to die on a battlefield," Dastan said finally.

"You are going to grow old and fat in Alamut," Garsiv said glaring half heartedly at him.

Dastan only barely managed to bite back the smile that tugged at his lips. He was going to miss Garsiv when he was in Alamut and his brothers were off in the rest of Persia. Though he knew there would be more than enough to keep him occupied in Persia, he would still miss them very much. Even with Tus's ability to make him tell the truth and Garsiv's ability to make him want to kill something. They were his brothers, in a way that no blood bond could have forced upon them. They had chosen him just as much as his father had and in a strange way Dastan realized that he had chosen them as well.

"We are all going to grow old and fat," Dastan said, "its going to take the entire Persian army to get you two to Alamut."

"Why do Tus and I have to come to Alamut?" Garsiv demanded, "Alamut's just a holy city, you should be coming back to the capital."

"You're coming to Alamut," Dastan said, "at least part of the time."

"You're coming to the capital more," Garsiv argued.

Giving in to the smile that tugged at him, Dastan turned and looked at the boys standing with Zolm. They were young, no older than he had been when he had been chosen by the King for his bravery. Who was to say that the boys standing there had not been chosen as well? Probably for the same reasons he had been chosen. Because they were brave and strong and had the capacity to be good. Warped as they were, the boys did not deserve the fate that had been thrust upon them. He looked back at Garsiv who made a sound of disgust, though it was laced with the affection he reserved for his brother.

"Its a good thing Alamut is a holy city with the protection of the Persian army if you've gone so soft."

"An army that I help lead," Dastan said. Garsiv looked at him, "you didn't think you were getting rid of me that easily did you?" he asked, "think of it this way. Now you just have to make extra sure I come back or my wife will be less than pleased."

"And God knows we wouldn't want that," Garsiv said, glaring at Tamina who was more than happy to return the gesture, making Bis look almost comically desperate as he tried to get her attention back to him, "now I see why you have only one wife," the Prince continued, "you look at another woman and she kill the poor girl."

"What are you talking about?" Dastan asked, "if she kills anyone it would be me," he clapped Garsiv on the shoulder, "speaking of which," he sighed, trailing off as he walked away from his brother towards his wife.

By the time he got to Tamina, Bis looked ready to give Zolm an excuse to kill him just so that he would not have to stand with Tamina any longer. The Princess and Priestess of Alamut took one look at him before turning on her heel and walking away. Dastan looked at Bis who raised his hand as if to say he was on his own. Knowing that for once he was actually supposed to follow her, Dastan hurried after Tamina. When they were away from the others and entirely without warning, Tamina turned around, very nearly colliding with his chest and sending them both sprawling.

"I am not letting your brother kill those children," she said furiously, "no matter how he claims to see them. It is not their fault they are the way they are."

"Garsiv is not going to be killing any children," Dastan said.

"And if the High Council puts up a fuss, well," Tamina waved her hand as if to say that did not matter but her words of ceremonial punishment seemed to ring in Dastan's ears.

"What will the High Council do if you show up with them?"

Tamina looked at him. She was in trouble for breaking the laws in service of the Dagger. But the Dagger was safe and somehow she imagined any words she had to explain her actions would fall on deaf ears. They were going to have plenty to say about Zolm being there and if she showed up with a group of small Hassansins-to-be they were going find someone to accuse of treason. And there were some things that even the mantle of Guardian could not save one from. Dastan looked at her carefully and she knew that he had gathered that her punishment this time would not be just ceremonial. Not for bringing a direct threat to Alamut back into its walls.

"Then we can't bring them back," Dastan said as though it was the simplest thing in the world.

Surprise filled Tamina's face at the offhanded way he said that they could not bring them back. As if it was the most practical thing in the world. How could one man make even the most impossible things seem easy. They were in the middle of the desert, with nothing around and nowhere to go except back to Alamut. Tamina narrowed her eyes as she looked at her husband, half sure that the desert sun had finally made him mad. Dastan smiled at her, delighting in telling her his brilliant, half formed plan.

"So we take them somewhere else," he finished.

"Take them somewhere else?" Tamina repeated, "are you mad? Where else are you going to take them? Its not as if the people want this living, breathing reminder of your Uncle's treachery staring them in the face. And the High Council will not give them a home in Alamut. I thought we could bring them there and then figure something else out. But we need a place where people like that would be accepted. Appreciated even, without them doing harm to others."

Dastan looked at Tamina, her brow knitting together as she thought of what to do with the children. Dastan looked back to see that Garsiv and Bis had moved over to where Seso stood near the three women. The Ngbaka nodded at something they said, looking back over at them as though checking to see they were alright before his eyes moved over to Zolm and the boys. The Ngbaka had shown no fear towards the Hassansin earlier, he did not seem to show it. Even when he had been guarding Zolm he had spoken to him as though he had not tried to orchestrate his death.

"We send them to the Valley of the Slaves," Tamina said. Dastan turned to look at her, "Sheik Amar will probably see this as a business opportunity," she continued, "they will be safe in there."

He looked at her, realizing that she did have a point. The Valley had a reputation of such terror, the people who made it into the Valley itself we rather crazy and dangerous. Excitement curled through Tamina. If they could get Sheik Amar to agree to take the boys, they would be safe and in a place that would actually be suited to them. They were so eerily quiet and still, the bustle of the Valley could show them what life was like. People would not look at them like they were murderers or freaks, not in a place where there was Ostrich racing every tuesday and thursday.

"Its worth a shot," Dastan said finally.

"We need to get to Alamut," Tamina said, "the Sheik is still there. I can have Sahar bring him out to speak to us. As long as we remain outside the walls the boys will be safe and I cannot be arrested."

"Arrested?" Dastan questioned.

"Most likely," Tamina said, "and quite publicly. As i said, they want to make an example. Can we focus on the task at hand? We are still a days ride from Alamut and another from the Valley."

"And we should probably leave this place," Dastan said looking around at the rocks.

Tamina nodded as they moved back towards the others. They all fell silent as the pair of them approached, the eyes from the unnerving gazes of the young boys to the broken ones of the women to the calm ones of the Ngbaka all turning towards her. Tamina looked at the group of them, her eyes calm.

"We ride for Alamut."


Next time we've got Sheik Amar coming back. Lets see what he's got to say about coming into a group of Hassansins. Also we get to see what Zolm's gonna say about all of this, including the fact he actually took part in a rescue.

I'll see you all tomorrow!

So please review!