Destiny

A Prince of Persia Fanfiction

003 A Wandering Merchant You Say?

As Dastan and I reveled in the beauty of the rapidly approaching dusk, the mysterious sunset stirred in me curious questions about my rescuer. I practically knew nothing of him, so I took this opportune moment to delve a little deeper.

"Dastan, what exactly do you do?" I asked and glanced at his handsome face. His long hair swayed gently in the breeze as he suddenly hesitated, a guarded expression masking his strong features.

"Me?" he delayed. "I...I am a wandering merchant," he finally spoke and then continued in a rather hurried explanation. "It's my first venture into Nasaf and I decided to try my luck here where they say a slave can become a noble over night."

I scrutinized his face and knew that he was obviously lying. I was not upset, but interest and disbelief clouded my mind. Narrowing my eyes, a small smile formed on my lips.

"A wandering merchant you say?" I replied, teasingly. Dastan raked his fingers through his hair and cleared his throat as if distracted. "A wandering merchant who can expertly climb Nasaf's walls like an experienced veteran, whom has just said he only newly arrived; a wandering merchant who has no goods to sell, whom was just bartering with a vendor just yesterday; a wandering merchant you say?"

"Alright, alright I am not a merchant!" Dastan surrendered and held up his hands.

"Then what are you? A cutthroat?"

"Lillei, honestly if I was a cutthroat I would have cared less if that vendor saw you," Dastan defended and crossed his arms above his chest. He raised an eyebrow at me quizzically like I was out of my mind.

"You still haven't answered me," I pointed out and waited expectantly. He stalled for time by clearing his throat once again and then fiddling with his crimson head scarf. Cautiously, he began speaking carefully with guarded tones.

"I am a commoner born to common folk, here in the slums of Nasaf. My parents died when I was seven. I grew up in the dirty streets, sleeping on people's doorsteps, stealing from the marketplace, and scraping a living off of odd jobs given to me by people who pitied me."

Dastan stared off into the darkening horizon and his eyes seemed to be in a different time, a place in his past.

"I became a rebel and learned my skills by myself. I discovered that Nasaf's buildings were all constructed to be connected to each other. A precaution the King had crafted to allow his people multiple escape routes if the city should ever be breached. There were plenty of ledges and tiers built into the walls for sure footing when hiding and escaping from soldiers. It was a lifestyle that I embraced, because there was no other way of life for me."

Dastan's words wove their harsh truth to match mine and I felt a growing connection with him that I found startling.

"As I found new paths up higher toward the palace, I watched from afar the king's soldiers sparring and I followed their actions, memorizing the moves that I know today. I especially enjoyed it when the king's sons practiced swordsmanship. They were flawless in every way."

"You have seen the three princes?" I inquired with interest. Curiosity made me tilt my head and I pondered what they would look like. I imagined exquisitely handsome faces adorned with crowns of gold and layers of jewel woven cloaks that trailed two feet after their exalted steps. I remembered the citizens talking about how the first two eldest brothers were of royal blood, but the youngest prince was a stray that the King picked up one day in the streets. But then others would argue that the youngest prince was actually of royal blood but his mother was a consort to the King. There were so many rumors that circulated the city about the identity of the third prince, but none of this matters now because years have gone by and the King has managed to raise his sons up to govern the city well.

"They are very humorous to watch, because they often joke around," Dastan explained and turned his mesmerizing eyes to mine. "You have never seen them before?"

"Of course not! I am only a lowly commoner, I would never have a chance to see what they look like much less stand in the same room with them! I don't even know their names!" I exclaimed and shook my head. Dastan laughed and I stared at him like he was an insane person.

"I understand," he replied after quieting down. He then continued to stare at me with that intense burning gaze.

"What?" I quickly asked and brushed my long hair away from my face.

"And what about you? What is your life story?"

I swallowed the cyclone of feelings twirling in my heart and tried to keep a straight face. Licking my lips, I took a breath and spoke.

"I was born here in Nasaf to a wealthy merchant. My father was a tapestry vendor and my mother was a robe maker. They were both successful at what they did, bringing in a fair amount of money to support my sister and I. Although my father was a good man, he had a temper and often swindled our family investments so that he could have a bit more to drink or a bit more to spend on his drinking. One day some men came to our house and demanded payment of the money they had loaned to my father. When my parents could not pay them back, the men tore our house apart and raped my mother in front of my father while my sister and I hid in our tiny bedroom."

I did not realize that tears were running down my cheeks until the small droplets cooled on my face. Dastan looked at me with distress, unease and pain filled his charming features. Ignoring the moisture on my face, I continued to speak.

"I was so afraid then. I ushered my sister out our small window and we ran down the street. I never saw my parents again, nor my house, nor any of my family's belongings. My sister and I lived on the streets, begging for food and receiving disapproving glances instead. Six months later, after a wild fever that lasted four days, my sister died in my arms. She was nine and too young. I was twelve and on my own and have been ever since."

I grew quiet, remembering faces from memories that were old and tattered with age. Longing for those faces intensified and I was astonished that it still hurt after so many years. I had blocked the pain with keeping myself alive, numbing my senses into a state of withdrawal. But this retelling of a part of my past that I had kept hidden opened a wound that I thought had healed.

Dastan's fingers suddenly appeared at the fringes of my vision. He touched my face where the tears had stained and traced the wet path down to my chin. His touch was electrifying and yet tender all the same.

"It's our past that shapes us into who we are now," Dastan said softly and retrieved his hand from my face. I sniffed and wiped the excess tears from my cheeks. Taking a deep breath, I forced the pain to dissipate and bent to look at him. Dastan was gazing at me with an unknown intent; odd how two strangers could suddenly become closer in a span of a few hours.

"How do we get down from here?" I asked and searched unsuccessfully for a way out. "You are not going to carry me down, are you?"

"Was it that bad?" he countered. I shook my head and honestly I didn't think it was that horrible, although the jostling around made me a bit nauseated.

"No, it's just that I don't want to die just yet."

Dastan chuckled and grasped my hand. He motioned to a hidden square hatch in the rough surface of the tower. The night had obscured it from my vision, but it was clearly there, cleverly hidden within the framework of the spire.

"That is our way down," Dastan declared and reached for the iron lever. With a swift pull, the secret hatch opened soundlessly.

"But that leads inside the palace!" I whispered, urgently. He brushed my comment aside and pulled me down the ladder that descended into dimness. Uncertain, but seeing no other way, I had no choice but to follow him. I stepped down from the iron bars and Dastan helped me by lifting me off the ladder. His touch still sent chills up and down my spine and tremors to erupt on the surface of my skin. In that moment of intimate closeness, our eyes met and for a brief instant, something wonderful unveiled between us. A feeling like no other and yet the emotion still escaped my mind.

Do I really like him that much? I suddenly pondered as my heart answered for me. A gentle smile played on Dastan's lips as he took my hand and furtively glanced around the small space. We were in a stock room, littered with crates of goods with a single windowed door at the far end. I followed him to the wooden entry and waited as he cautiously looked through the barred window into an empty corridor. I could see a set of stairs leading down opposite ends.

Dastan put a single finger to his lips in a recognizable gesture and quietly opened the door. He led me out into the silent hallway where torches lined the length in brackets that cast strange shadows on the brick walls. As we approached the steps leading down, a flurry of movement from the opposite ends of the stairway caused us to take a few steps back. The grating of metal against sheath rang in the air as armed soldiers came pouring out of the narrow opening. Voices rang out in alarm as several of the mobilized men began surrounding Dastan and I. Panic erupted in my chest as the din continued around us. Dastan immediately put himself in front of me, shielding me from the swords and spears that were dangerously close. My eyes were wide with alarm, my body trembled with dismay and I clutched fearfully onto Dastan's right hand, waiting for the worse.

"Intruders!" a lone soldier cried out, his steel weapon poised ready to strike. The multi-hued armor he wore glistened underneath the torch light. His fierce gaze fell upon Dastan and his whole demeanor changed as recognition flashed across his face. Quickly motioning for the rest of the soldiers to stop, the sword in his hands clattered to the floor. The soldier fell to his knees and bowed at Dastan's feet like a servant. All the other men did the same. Their weapons were discarded as they too fell to their knees. The whole spectacle was so absurd that confusion began creeping into my mind.

"My Prince!" the first soldier who collapsed to his knees cried out from the floor. That single word echoed in my mind like thunder long after the sound was gone. It reverberated and so shocked me that I was instantly numb with feeling.

"Prince?" I whispered as Dastan slowly turned to face me.

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