A/N: Long note, I'm sorry, please bear with me. First of all, thank you Ren for threatening me until I updated… you don't know how much it helped.

IMPORTANT: I've merged the former chapter 6 ("Sand") with this chapter to keep the POV pattern consistent. (Odd chapters are Farah, even ones are the Prince.) Chapter 6 ("Captive") is new.

"Maitryi" is Indian for "friendship" (not very significant)

"Jaldi" is Urdu (Indian) for "quick"—I was looking for "faster," but this will suffice. Thanks Hannah!

I've been trying to find the city in which the Prince would have lived, but the exact time of TSoT is very unclear. Three possibilities are Persepolis, Shiraz, and Isfahan. If anyone knows their Persian history, please please give me a few tips.

Thanks for all the great suggestions of names for the Prince! I'm still trying to name him—I would most definitely rather not, as I prefer him as just "the Prince," but if the need arises, I'd like to have a name ready. The good people at Ubi's PoP forums have lots of ideas, and I've done some snooping around on my own. If I've made a mistake regarding Persian nomenclature, PLEASE don't hesitate to let me know! I am a white Canadian who has never been outside North America and I know nothing about Eastern lands except what I read.

Many people seem to like the idea of naming him the Persian or Arabic word for "Prince." I would like to stick to only Persian names. One problem with naming him "Prince," as DreamingAloud pointed out to me, is that realistically, a King and Queen would never name their son that. He'd be Prince Prince of Persia. But I might call him that anyway if I find a name I like… i.e. Sanjar (supposedly Middle Persian for Prince—thank you Ashti and tenran), my current name of choice. Other names that mean Prince are Amir and Shazadeh.

Shahbaz: royal falcon

Mehrang: colour of the sun (or colour of fog)

Rakhshan: flashing

Zain: (Arabic) beauty, grace

Dariy (meaning unknown)

Thank you all for your suggestions and reviews!

Dreams

He left me—again. As before, I had not believed him. But unlike then, the memories now haunted me ceaselessly. Had I imagined them slowly creeping into my mind? Had he somehow imparted them to me through the breezy caress of his hand? Or had I, as I was beginning to feel, truly lived them?

They seeped deeper into my consciousness, the sepia-toned visions with their urgent, threatening whispers, flashes of a terrific story—a desperate romance, purposeful seduction, loving betrayal…

Then too often, the memories would dissolve, slipping through my fingers like salt in water. Yet they continuously resurfaced, invading my thoughts and colouring my dreams. I fancied I could almost read them in his sea-green eyes as I slumbered.

The Persians remained with us for one month. I dreamed of the Prince and his sand-gold memories, my memories, nearly every night. I considered approaching him, but the humiliating incident with Halim was ever fresh in my mind. My fiancé had miraculously overlooked it; indeed, he had not even seemed to notice anything amiss between the Prince and me. Yet I dared not risk another such confrontation—nor did I wish to drive the foreign man even further from me.

After he left, I would sometimes lie awake as images of billowing sands burned across my closed eyelids. Ever more frequently, I dreamed of falling, of a horrible release, and always one last tender expression before Oblivion's cold embrace:

"Kakolukia—"

I would awaken with it on my lips; I feared I murmured it in my sleep. I only prayed I would not carelessly reveal my mother's secret word.

One night, my dreams were no golden recollections, but rather dark and deadly nightmares. I awoke violently, and the word came not as a murmur, but a scream. As I tried vainly to regain control of my breath, a servant flew into my bedchambers, with Halim near treading on her heels. Averting his eyes from my immodestly clothed form, he gasped, "My dear, what is the matter? You were shouting a strange word…"

I tensed. He should not know. "It was nothing, Halim."

"What could it mean?" he mused aloud. "Kalu… ka… what was it?"

"I don't know," I lied. "It was but nonsense from an unpleasant dream."

"Ah. Are you well, my pet?"

"I am now, thank you."

"Then I wish you a good night and sound sleep."

I nodded and turned from him, ashamed. He and the servant left.

I had lied to my dear Halim. Why hadn't I told him the silly word? Why did I feel I could not? And how in Allah's name did the Persian stranger know?

After a fretful, sleepless night, I was convinced that I must have told it to him; but why? Even if his fantastic story proved to be no more than that, I needed some explanation from him.

But the Persians had left and would not be returning. Briefly I thought of my house travelling to his, but I knew that it was a foolish idea. My father was not pleased with the way negotiations between our countries had gone. I dared not ask him if I could speak to the Prince, for if I ventured on my own after that, it would be disobedient; whereas if I left quietly now, he might forgive my flightiness without needing to chastise me for disrespect as well.

I decided to leave in two days' time; I would need a full night's rest to begin the journey. In the meantime, I consulted the maps in the library to find the quickest route to Persia; I intended to overtake their caravan before they reached the country. I wrote a note to my family, asking their forgiveness and assuring them of my (highly indefinite) safety, but without stating my destination.

At last, the day of my departure arrived. I waited anxiously for the sun to set before slipping silently out to my horse, Maitryi, who I had prepared earlier. We rode out into the darkness.

I knew then how an animal escaped from our menagerie must feel. My freedom blossomed from within, thrilling every part of my body. I tasted the fresh night air and shivered with exhilaration, drinking in the stolen moment.

For days innumerable I raced the wind, but found no sign of the Persians' passage in the sandswept sameness. This was not possible; I had carefully studied the best maps, chosen the quickest route to Persepolis… a cold shudder ran down my spine as the thought crept into me that they may be travelling a different path—perhaps one better suited to their large caravan...

I became haunted by doubt and loneliness. Maitryi was my only comfort in the empty world. I urged her on, faster, ever faster. If need be, I would wait outside the gates of Persia for them. I had no desire to enter the country, only to speak with the young Prince. I needed only to make certain I arrived before them.

Jaldi, Maitryi. Ever faster. The sun slid from the sky, slothful, at odds to our desperate speed. My horse was growing weary and nearly stumbled. I halted and dismounted, wincing at the fiery sand beneath my thin, ornamented shoes. We rested for a few hours, ate a little, then resumed our journey when the moon rose.

We rode until dawn, watching the light chase away the stillness, faster, faster. I would not follow them into Persia, a foreigner and a woman alone. I did not like to think of what could happen if they found me. Fear and a peculiar longing pulled me onward as I thought of the Prince; he only could I trust.

The sun rose higher. I was thirsty and deeply exhausted, but did not stop. Maitryi began to slow. I allowed her to recover her strength for a short while, then urged her faster again. Jaldi. She snorted, protesting, made a feeble attempt at a canter, and then fell back to an ever-slowing trot. I dismounted again, discouraged and confused. The heat was muddying my thoughts. I tripped on something and fell on one knee, rolling onto my side to avoid injury. I lay there on the sand, feeling only sun and sweat and roughness, and watched as Maitryi slowly sank to the ground. She was tired, she was going to sleep. No… something wasn't right, she shouldn't be lying down. But I was so tired too; I just wanted to forget everything and let sleep take me. I saw Maitryi's eyes close.

I sprang up and went to her, screamed her name. She flinched, but did not move. I tried to shake her awake, but she was so heavy, and slippery with sweat. I couldn't think of what to do. Images cycled through my mind, jaldi, jaldi, sand and sun and a royal face. Swords, stone, crumbling, falling, shrieking voices, a cacophony of sounds I couldn't understand. A great rumbling from afar, growing louder and higher in pitch; it would overtake me soon…

And I saw them, a caravan of golden sand, dusty specks glinting in the light. They were coming to rescue me from the endless desert, or capture me, it didn't matter. I saw his face in my mind; it lingered, until I imagined I could see him near me, speaking words of nonsense to someone else. Blue and yellow danced in my eyes until there was nothing but cerulean sand.