Summary: Everything the Prince worked to avoid is happening again. Can the Prince stop things before it's too late? Or is he doomed to relive his horrendous mistake all over again?

Thanks to my reviewers- I made note of your suggestions and took the advice that was given. I just want to say that I do go back every now and then and reword tiny bits of chapters- but don't get frustrated, I never change anything that will damage the entire story.


Fate
Chapter One: Setting the Stage

The next morning, after a quick breakfast from his rationing pack, the Prince packed his tent and found his father. His father, it turned out, had just finished checking his own gear and supplies.

"Walk with me to the horses," his father offered. The Prince complied.

"Father, what did you mean last night?" he asked.

"Hmm?" His father turned his head to look at him.

"You mentioned invading, I thought we were going home?"

"Son, you know I don't give up that easily."

"But, Father, you yourself admitted our lack of men."

"Yes, which is why I sent for help. The Sultan of Azad and his army will rendezvous with us outside of India tonight," his father said. Noticing his son's stricken manner he queried, "Is something the matter? I thought you wanted to invade India."

"That was before, things have… changed," the Prince trailed off.

"Changed? Why, just the other day you were begging me to continue travelling through the night and yet today you are begging me to reconsider?"

"I…" The Prince faltered and his stared at the ground. 'What can I tell him? That what he seeks will be his downfall, as well as everyone else's?' "I just do not wish to be let down again due to ill preparation and lack of resources."

"It is so comforting to hear you thinking things through for once. Whatever transpired last night has done wonders for your maturity level, I am proud to say," his father said. The Prince felt a small swell of pride at his father's words. "But, as I've repeatedly said before, I realized this a while ago and sent word to Azad to join us. He was unfortunately delayed and your impatience pushed me to go ahead with it." The swell of pride shrank back to normal.

"You never told me what we were waiting for, you kept saying it was a surprise!" the Prince exclaimed.

"But I just told you now, didn't I?" his father laughed.

The Prince sighed and shook his head. "I think your memory may be slipping, old man."

"Hard to see how you remember anything when you never pay attention in the first place!"

"I'm sorry, were you saying something?" the Prince asked innocently. The father and son shared a good laugh that, in the Prince's opinion, didn't last long enough. A question tugged at the corner of his mind and, though he was reluctant to disrupt the jovial atmosphere. Still, nothing lasts forever. 'I discovered that the hard way.' Besides, he was running out of time. "Did you say the Sultan of Azad?"

"Yes, why?" his father said as he untied his horse's reigns.

'It was in the Sultan's palace that the Sands were released… and now father is sending for him to come join us? Is it possible for such a thing to be a coincidence? What is happening?' "No reason," he quickly changed the subject, "What about an alliance?" His father paused in his task of checking the straps on his horse. The Prince smiled as he remembered something, '"Always check your saddle straps. You never know when some novice will be given the task of preparing your horse," that's what he told me on the first day we camped out here.'

"An alliance? With India? We tried that once before, remember? That turned out to be a disaster and a waste of time," he said.

The Prince flinched, "Of course I remember, how could I forget? But that was such a long time ago-"

"Hardly twelve years," his father countered. "Besides, what would we gain?"

"Another ally?" The Prince tried.

His father let out a barking laugh. "I have more than enough allies-"

"So what's one more?" The Prince interjected.

"My son, there's nothing wrong with being nervous about your first invasion, it's completely normal. Still, it is a hindrance and can only be overcome by admitting it!" The Prince was left speechless by his fathers' misinterpretation of his actions. "Son, unless you can give me a good reason not to invade India, then I will." His father mounted his horse and galloped to the head of the assembling army, signaling an end to the conversation.

The Prince untied his own horse deep in thought. 'I have to stop this. Could I warn her? No, curse it, we won't get there until night and by the time I got to her room it would be far too late for the Maharajah to alert his guards. But I have to try, I have to do something.' The Prince mounted his horse and followed after his father.


The setting sun cast fiery hues of red, orange, and yellow across the sky. The Prince sat mounted by himself, watching the sunset with a grim expression. The excitement he had felt the first time they tried to invade India was long gone. He took his hat off and wiped his brow of the sweat as his heavy breathing returned to normal. He decided not to put his hat back on, as there was no need to wear it at night. His father rode up beside him, laughing. "Haha! That was fantastic. We should race more, my son. I had no idea how good you had become."

'Probably because my brothers aren't here for you to dote upon,' The Prince thought almost bitterly, but he held his tongue. Being the youngest was hard enough at home, but for now he had his fathers full attention and he would enjoy it while he could. "That we should, father," was all he was able to say before the Sultan of Azad rode up to meet them.

"Ahh, King Sharaman, so good to see you," the plump little man said, bouncing in his saddle.

"And you as well, Sultan. How are things?"

"Good, good, about to be even better," he jibed and they both laughed. "Come, we have much to discuss before the night is fully upon us," he beckoned. King Sharaman and his son followed the jovial Sultan his tent where they dismounted and went inside.

"Before I forget," the Sultan said, "I brought something I thought would be of great assistance." He pulled out a large sword and set it on the table before them. Its finely adorned sheath and hilt misled one into thinking it to be for mere show, something its sharp blade corrected. Candlelight glinted off the strangely familiar blade as the Prince and his father took turns examining the beautiful designs. The Prince felt his jaw drop when he realized what it was. "The blade of Rustan," he whispered.

The Sultan smiled at the Prince and nodded. "It is," the Prince handed the sword to his father. King Sharaman handled the sword formally, taking a few practice swings, his face aglow with delight. "Yes, this will be very useful," he murmured. He finally handed the sword back to the Sultan, though his eyes frequently darted back to it. The Sultan sheathed the sword. Before he could say anything the Prince interjected, "Father, I should scout the area."

His father gave him a questioning look, but shrugged, "You change your mind quicker than your mother, but go ahead."

"Thank you, father," the Prince gave a bow and left.


R&R- and don't be afraid to make any suggestions or critiques, I won't get offended, promise. The second chapter is part of the way done, but might take longer than a week to post because of my neglect for certain school projects, which are catching up with me.

Whoops, I accidentally called the sword of Rustan the sword of Ramadan… whoops. Sorry for the confusion.