A/N: Thanks to all who read and a special thanks to lonelygamer, Inusgrl90, Sincerity and LisaB-md for their reviews. And to answer lonelygamer's question, I don't know if Arash is the name of a Persian singer, I just pulled the name off the site I use to get ethnic names. If Arash really is a Persian singer, than I hope he is okay with me using his name.

They had brought her in. One of the men announced her and he tried to delay turning around for as long as he could. He did not want to see her. Rather, he did not want her to see him and realize it was he who had destroyed her home. He did not want to see that look of hate on her face when she realized who he was.

But he had to turn around.

He flinched inside as he watched her eyes widen and her mouth open from shock. He watched as fearful confusion flickered across her eyes, which were just as beautiful as he remembered them.

"What would you like me to do with her, my Prince?" asked the soldier who had brought her in.

"Where would you like her brought?" Arash asked quietly beside him.

"Nowhere," he said formally, "Leave her here for now. Get all of the soldiers here and lead them through out the rest of the palace. Afterwards return here. Don't hurt anyone." He hoped that this last phrase would warm her up to him even slightly.

"Yes, Your Highness," the soldier said obediently before turning around to leave. Arash spread the Prince's orders through out the rest of the hall and then led the men away.

They were alone.

He could not bear to look at her, not while she had that look on her face. All of the courage he had ever had in his life was gone and he turned abruptly to stare blankly at a tapestry on the wall.

He was destroying her home.

And she knew that. That was why she hated him now. He wondered what she had thought of him when he had killed her vizier for her and slid down the tree. Had she liked him then? Even if she had it was gone now. He was destroying everything she had ever known, destroying her home which was especially painful after the loss of her father.

But her husband had probably consoled her for that.

But he wanted to console her. He wanted her to know that he left her pain.

"I'm sorry about your father," he said. He was surprised when the words came out of his mouth but they were genuine, despite his surprise.

"Yes, well that is what happens," she said with edge in her voice, "And we are in the middle of a war."

He winced at her tone, knowing full well that he deserved it but wanting nothing more than to tell her that he had no choice. He wanted to hold her in his arms and tell her that he had no choice in any of this, that he wanted to leave her and her people alone.

But he didn't. He merely turned to face her, his eyes searching hers expectantly.

She turned away.

"It's a sad thing," he said softly, his voice carrying across the silent, angry air.

"What is?" she said angrily, "That you weren't the one to do it?"

"No," he said feebly, his heart throbbing wildly in pain. "Not that at all."

"Then what then?" she demanded, turning around to face him. Her eyes were glazed with angry tears.

"All of this. The war. The things that we are forced to do because of it."

"Forced? You mean to say that you don't want to destroy my palace?" She looked at him skeptically.

"Do you think that I would?"

"It's most sons' dream to be given such a responsibility and most men don't care what they destroy selfishly."

"Are you saying that I am happy to do this?"

"It is highly improbable that you aren't."

"Well I am not. Why would I tell you I was when I wasn't."

"To ease a conscience."

"Apparently you think that I wouldn't need to clear my conscience, considering you don't have very high standards for me."

"For someone who doesn't want to destroy a palace you are doing a pretty fine job of it."

"How so? I am barely touching anything."

"Barely! You just gave your men permission to take whatever they please!"

"I have to! I would be disappointing my father."

"Typical. You just want to please him."

"No! It would be worse than that, don't you understand! It would be treason!"

"I would have taken such a charge instead of causing so much harm."

"Harm to whom! I am not hurting anyone and if I don't go through the palace then I will be killed! I am sorry I am destroying your home, Farah, but I could be killed if I don't!"

The Prince found himself somewhere between anger and compassion, a combination of emotions he did not expect himself to feel. He was trying to recover from his emotions quickly, for the sudden silence that took over then was so passive that it seemed almost ridiculous to be overtaken by such almost violent emotions. She looked at him resignedly before turning away her eyes downcast.

"What will you do with anyone you might find?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing."

"But then they will tell what had happened to my husband when he arrives."

"They would not need to tell anything. The palace has been destroyed and considering this state of war it will be obvious who had done it."

"And…and what will you do with me?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I would be expected to take you with me but…" He faltered, not knowing what to say next and not knowing what he wanted to say.

"But what?"

"But I don't think you'd want that," he said finally, "And I've already done enough to you."

"But what do you want?"

"That is no concern in this decision."

"And what is?"

"What is the right thing to do and what am I expected to do."

"And what do you think is right?"

He looked up at him, his eyes uncertain, and she looked back at him with a sad resignation in her eyes.

"I…I don't know."

She looked at him sadly, slowly understanding the situation. She looked carefully at the floor. "Do what is expected of you," she said slowly, "It seems that there is no other choice."

"Prince," came a loud authoritative voice, which startled both of them, "The search of the palace is complete. Would you like us to search for the Maharajah's treasure vaults? I hear that there are many wonders hidden there."

"No!" The Prince said quickly. Farah and Arash, to whom the new voice belonged, looked at him curiously.

"I… don't think that would be necessary," he said with composure.

"Very well," Arash said, obviously restraining from reacting to the Prince's strange behavior, "What shall we do now?"

"Head back to camp."

"And what with the Maharajah's wife?"

The Prince glanced at Farah compassionately. Her eyes fell to the floor, but she nodded slowly, with sorrowful resignation.

"Take her with us," he said slowly. Arash nodded and gathered up the men. Two soldiers placed Farah's hands in chains and led her away. The Prince remained there, alone, for a few seconds, his mind milling over what he had just done. He was overjoyed that she was back with him, but sorry that it had to be done this way.