Dastan braced himself as he entered the seating area of his father's accommodations, eyes lowered. King Sharaman requested to see each of the princes individually. Dastan knew him to be a fair ruler, but in cases such as these, fairness still warranted consequences, especially regarding the nature of the first assault.
The greying king stood at a small table rather than sitting in the chair next to it. Dastan slowly approached.
"Father."
"Dastan," he greeted in turn. His voice gave away nothing of his current mood. "Disappointed though I am that the battle occurred, Tus and Garsiv both tell me you not only acted to minimize losses, but you were the one to uncover evidence of Alamut's true innocence, and stood resolutely in her defense."
"First, I want to express my utmost condolences that my uncle, your brother, was behind the plot. We would have seen him brought to you to stand trial, had he not forced me to defend myself by the sword, in front of the army…"
"A deep, regrettable blow. I am however gladdened that the three of you took care of each other even in that dark moment." Sharaman seemed to age ten years in the torchlight. His grief simmered underneath the practiced administrative demeanor.
"Second, I never should have let the attack happen, Father. I knew in my heart it was wrong, yet I didn't do enough to stop it. For that I am sorry as well."
"One of the hallmarks of a great man is to stand up for what he believes is right, no matter the consequences. I saw that potential in you that day in the market. A great man also does not dwell on the faults of the past. He accepts his responsibility, learns from it, and moves forward."
Dastan swallowed hard, recalling what had transpired the last time he heard those words. "I have been assisting in the rebuilding efforts, to ensure we put right the damage we caused." His father nodded.
"Tus mentioned as much, as well as the proposed solution to prevent this from happening again."
"A proposal of marriage, yes," affirmed Dastan, feeling his face go bright red, "with your approval, of course, and the princess' consent."
"Don't be shy, boy. It's time you considered taking a wife."
The mix of emotions in Dastan's chest threatened to make the room spin. He hadn't anticipated the difficulty of facing loved ones when he had seen each of them die right in front of him. When he knew so much they didn't know. It had been hard enough with his brothers, but standing before his father made the whole struggle unbearable. Would they even believe him if he tried to explain it? Maybe someday…someday…
"I only ask one thing," he finally said hoarsely. "That Princess Tamina has an equal voice in the arrangement. She is a ruler in her own right. In light of what has happened, she deserves that respect, most of all from Tus, Garsiv, and I."
"There's the boy I saw in the market, or rather, the man I hoped he would become." The king smiled warmly at his adoptive youngest son.
"Thanks to the father who found me."
A knock at the door, while timely, quietly disrupted the moment. The house attendant behind it announced the princess herself, who was accompanied by two plainly-dressed Alamutians, one holding a tablet and charcoal implement, the other a length of marked cord.
"As a token of that thanks, and for what is hopefully the start of a new peace and prosperity, I wish to present you with this gift," Dastan continued. The two Alamutians bowed. Sharaman looked between them with a questioning expression.
"I know you find a lot of spiritual meaning in holy relics, but it seemed wrong to take what is already precious from a holy city. These are the princess' court tailors. She has offered the best craftsmen of Alamut to fashion for you prayer robes in the heritage of those used in the temples for centuries. That way you can carry the tradition of the holiest places with you, always."
The king embraced Dastan, his laugh deep and jovial. "A gift I will certainly treasure, my son. Even so, know that the actions you have shown over the past days are one of the greatest gifts a father could receive. Well done." More solemn, he turned to Tamina. "Now then, to the matter of the proposal. Your graciousness is beyond compare, Your Highness, to treaty with my sons once the truth of the attack came to light. What would you ask of Persia, to make satisfactory terms?"
"If it is a new subject within your kingdom you hope to add to your legacy, you have come to the wrong place," Tamina answered levelly. The room dropped to utter silence. Dastan found himself holding his breath. The princess glanced directly at him, before returning her gaze to Sharaman. "But if you seek a partnership, a new perspective, a greater spiritual connection, perhaps we may benefit one another as formal allies."
"You could remain a sovereign holy place, while also being party to the Persian council on matters of the empire, and having an equal share in council actions. In return, you would have Persia's protection should the need arise. Access to trade, to resources, provided you do not deal with our enemies, or act in a manner that should harm or defy the empire as a whole."
"There will be much to discuss in further detail. However, for the purposes of accepting or declining an offer of alliance…I agree to move forward, as pledged by a betrothal to marry. My only other requirement is that we settle the final terms first, then we can go through with the wedding."
"Very well." Collective tensions relaxed. Sharaman gripped Dastan's shoulder. "And you, my son, the blessing that has completed my family, would serve your king in this alliance, a bridge between ruling houses to maintain peace?"
"I will, Father," said Dastan.
Clapping rose in the poignant silence following his words; Tus and Garsiv managed to slip back into the chamber toward the end. Both were grinning from ear to ear. Dastan flushed with embarrassment all over again as his brothers barreled into him with their congratulations.
"It's not all done with yet, the treaty itself—"
"Enough with the formalities!" crowed Garsiv. "Leave the negotiations for tomorrow, celebrate tonight!"
"You've earned it, Dastan," Tus chimed in.
Of all things, what appealed to Dastan the most was some peace and quiet for a change. He felt that hint of unsteadiness once more, masked from outside notice by the way his brothers pulled him along to get ready for the banquet. Get your head together! You'll have some food, have some wine, let the music drown out most of the conversation, and eventually find a chance to slip away. Just hold out until then.
A banquet commanded a certain level of finery, especially considering Tamina was the official hostess, but even Dastan was stunned by her appearance in full court regalia. Gold and ivory, delicate fabrics and painted motifs on her skin, at once rich, ethereal, and yet simple in their design. Nothing like the trappings when she was presented as a trophy.
After the proper greetings and declarations were exchanged—making the engagement public—the room at large was released to celebrate. King Sharaman made himself one of the first to approach Dastan and the princess together.
"In Persia, royal betrothals are usually marked by exquisite hair jewels for the bride to be. In this case, you already wear a crown, and rightly so. Thus I offer an alternative, as a personal gift." An aide passed him an ornate box. "I had this made for my queen for our wedding day. May it grace your great beauty, as it did hers."
Inside the box was a woven bangle with fine gold chain ending in a set of fitted rings. Sharaman indicated for Dastan to (sheepishly) take the jewelry, both in awe and frantically working out in his head how to work the fragile looking piece. It turned out that they slipped just perfectly around her wrist and center finger. The chains framed the mark of her guardianship as if meant to be there all along.
"Thank you. It is a truly precious gift," Tamina marveled.
Others extended their congratulations as the evening continued. Dastan couldn't decide what his stomach thought of the idea of food, now that he was here—maybe it was simply in his head, hunger turned sour after the eventful day, or too much going on around him to whet much of an appetite. Whatever it was, he had trouble shaking it.
"Of course, Garsiv lost the advantage as soon as they got up into the tree. Dastan's always had a knack for acrobatics," Tus regaled the cluster of people around them. Everyone laughed, even Tamina smiled with amusement. All of a sudden Dastan felt very strange. The room may as well have been filled with sand, the way his limbs began to weigh on him. Closing in. Stuffy. His senses muddling.
The princess seemed to catch on to the change. How, he couldn't fathom. Her smile dropped. She leaned toward him. "Dastan, are you feeling all right?"
Before he could answer, all strength went out of his legs. Tamina let out a yelp as she tried to catch him without toppling over herself. Garsiv hooked his other arm, being the closest person on that side. A flurry of conversation buzzed around him, but he had increasing trouble following it.
"What's happened?"
"What caused this?"
"He's hardly eaten anything, that could be all he needs. Unless you think a dish looked suspect."
"But we've all been served from the same platters. No one else is feeling ill, are they?"
"Has he stepped out at any time, or could it have been something earlier?"
"And not show signs until now?"
"Perhaps it's just exhaustion. He's been working himself day in and day out since we arrived."
"Whatever the cause, this is not the place to seek answers. We need to move to a more private chamber, quickly…"