Date : 29.09.2011

Title : The Hassansins' Secret

Author : ElaineDex

Chapter : 2 of ?

Rating : M

Pairings : Zolm/OC

Warnings : Some Sexual Content, Romance, Angst, Maybe Some Strong Language.

Spoilers : Possible references to Prince of Persia : The Sands of Time.

Disclaimer : I do not own anything to do with the Prince of Persia franchise. This plot and any O/C's are mine.

Summary : (AU) The Hassansins take on a mission that leads to the discovery of a secret from their past, one that could change their futures forever and Zolm finds out that maintaining emotional detachment isn't always quite that easy.

On the journey back to their lair, the Queen had awoken from her unconsciousness and Zolm had found himself irritated by her wriggling in the saddle before him and her attempts to ask him where they were going and what they wanted with her and so he had reached into a pouch that was tied to his belt and dipped the tips of his fingers into the grains inside before raising them to the Queen's nose and he smiled as she struggled momentarily before relaxing back against his chest, unconscious once again.

He knew that his men would also have questions as to why he had brought her with them and he hadn't missed the inquisitive look that his Second, Setam, had sent his way when he had appeared with the Queen over his shoulder. He knew without doubt that they would back him whatever his reasons were, but he also knew that they deserved an explanation.

Sometime later they thundered into the courtyard of their base, handing their horses over to their groomsmen and Zolm pulled the Queen from the saddle, hoisting her over his shoulder again, pausing as he went to pass Setam.

"Eat and rest…I will join you all later," he said and Setam nodded once before moving to relay the message to the other men.

Zolm meanwhile moved inside carrying the Queen down to the lower levels, down beneath the kitchen to where there were two cells and he entered one, lowering the weight of the woman on his shoulder none too gently onto the straw mattress on the stone floor. Still unconscious, she didn't stir and he took the opportunity to lift her arm and push back her sleeve, examining the mark on her arm as best he could in the dim torchlight. To his chagrin he found that it was as he had first suspected; it was indeed a birthmark, one identical to the one his predecessors' bloodline bore, similar to the one his family bore…

Sitting back on his heels for a moment or two he stared at the mark, wondering if it could merely be coincidence…

But, there was the fact that she seemed able to command the viper…on some basic level at least and that couldn't be coincidence, surely.

Sighing, still dissatisfied, he stood and left the cell, locking the wooden door behind him and shoving the key into his robes before making his way up to the kitchen only to find the person he was looking for was not there and he frowned and continued on, following the sound of metal clinking against metal coming from one of the training rooms further along the dark hallway.

He came to rest in the archway of one room, an eyebrow rising with something akin to interest as he saw the twelve year old son of one of his Hassansin brothers; a boy by the name of Yousef, seemingly instructing the Hassansins' cook/healer in the art of sword fighting. An apprentice himself, Yousef was skilled enough for his years, but not proficient enough to teach another just yet and Zolm's eyes wandered over the petite young woman who was his pupil. He watched as she attempted to block the boy's thrusts, not much taller than him herself; Dasmine was her name, daughter of the man who forged their weapons. She had grown up in the Hassansins' lair, allowed to stay with her father since her mother had passed giving birth to her and also under the proviso that she serve them as soon as she became able.

Zolm had been but an eleven year old apprentice himself at the time and over the following years he had watched Dasmine grow into the beauty that she was today. She was the only woman allowed to live within the walls of their lair, the only woman who held the Hassansins' trust when it came to their health and well-being. She had seen them at their best…and at their worst and she was one of the only women who Zolm knew that did not shrink away when he neared.

Silently withdrawing his own scimitar, he moved closer and at the right moment put his arm out and blocked one of the boy's blows and Yousef looked up, admiration and respect clear in his young eyes as he looked upon his leader.

"The hour is late…you should be abed," Zolm spoke to the boy despite the fact that his eyes were on Dasmine and Yousef immediately bowed and with an apologetic look in Dasmine's way, made himself scarce.

Dasmine lowered the lightweight scimitar she held as Zolm circled her and though she sensed his agitation she knew better than to query its cause. Having grown up in the company of him and the warriors he now commanded, she had come to understand them in a way many never would and she considered them all to be her family…some she held more affection for than others…one in particular…

"The men are hungry from our journey home…" Zolm said, coming to rest before her and she regarded him, her green eyes holding his as she replied,

"I wasn't expecting you until the morning, but I have stew that can be heated…it will not take me long…"

Zolm nodded and twirled his scimitar easily in one hand.

"We have time to see what the boy has taught you then," he said and Dasmine narrowed her emerald eyes at him though a smile tipped the corners of her mouth and she flicked the long, dark curls of her hair back over her shoulders in readiness.

"As you wish…" she said, lunging immediately forward, deciding that a direct approach was the only way to proceed since she didn't have a prayer of bettering him in any other way, shape or form.

Zolm lazily raised his blade to counteract the clumsy downward swing she attempted, angling his head at her as if to say 'Is that it?' and as she scowled at him he reached out with a strike of his own, turning the blade to the flat side to make it land in a playful slap against her hip.

"You need to keep your guard up Dasmine," he growled, turning his blade back the other way and she stepped to one side, rubbing at the tender spot where his blade had smacked her, the bones in her arms still jarring from when their swords had clashed.

"I wasn't expecting you to rattle my hip," she objected and Zolm growled again, low in the back of his throat, moving suddenly to stand behind her, one arm going around her, dragging her backwards close against him and she elicited a small gasp as he pressed the sharp edge of his scimitar against the soft skin of her throat.

Bending so that his mouth was at her ear he said,

"You should never expect anything from a battle…"

Dasmine's heart pounded in her chest at his sudden close proximity and she bit her bottom lip, feeling brave enough to reach up and push at the flat side of his sword with her fingertips, smiling as he yielded and as soon as it was far enough away, she spun to face him and catching him off guard, she pushed him as hard as she could up against the closest wall, grinning inanely at him as she followed him there, her hands flat against his chest as she looked up at him.

Zolm glared at her, shaking his head a little as she smiled at him. He felt anger seeping into his veins, not aimed at her directly for what she had done, no indeed it was more for the fact that she thought she had secured a small victory over him by flattening his back against a wall. Did she not realise that he was only there because he wanted to be? That any man would submit to such an assault from a beautiful woman…right before they attacked her back. She had a lot to learn…

As she opened her mouth to speak, Zolm grabbed her waist and quickly reversed their positions and Dasmine cried out as she was thrust against the wall, her breath rushing out of her as he moved one large hand to press it against her chest, just above the swell of her breasts, holding her there without difficulty.

"You need more training…" Zolm stated the obvious and Dasmine looked at him, breathing hard, her cheeks flushing and she knew it had nothing to do with feeling any kind of fear for the dangerous man before her…quite the opposite in fact.

Dasmine had been in love with Zolm from being around the age of thirteen, when her changing body and a rush of hormones had turned him from just being someone she had known all her life into the object of her affections. Of course the shift had been helped along somewhat by the fact that he had saved her from being bitten by one of the deadly vipers he kept when she had been too nosy for her own good and had ventured too close. After that she had followed him around whenever her duties and his training allowed and though he had barely spoken to her back then, he hadn't seemed to mind her presence and in fact, when he had been badly burnt on one side of his face in one of his first official battles as a fully trained Hassansin, Dasmine had been the only one he had allowed near upon his return and she had treated the burn, never feeling it had changed or altered the way she saw him.

Her eyes dropped then to the scarring on his right cheek. Though it was now an old wound, the skin still split on occasion, depending on the ferocity of any given battle he was involved in and she would always tend to it upon his return…as was her job as their healer, but with him it always felt like it was something more…she wanted to care for him in other ways, if only he would let her.

Tentatively she reached up, laying her fingertips against the marks and a flicker of something dark, something she couldn't quite read showed in Zolm's eyes before he moved away, releasing her abruptly and her hand fell back to her side as he said,

"Enough…the men need to be served."

Dasmine nodded, avoiding his eyes as she handed him the scimitar she had been using and it was only as she went to pass him that he said,

"There is a woman in one of the cells…see to it that she is fed."

Dasmine looked at him then, her brow furrowing as he pressed the key to the cell door into her palm. She knew better than to ask questions right away and so she nodded, but as she walked away she couldn't help but feel a little uneasy. There had never been another woman brought to the lair before and she didn't like the way she somehow felt…threatened…by the news that there was now one there.

OoOoOoO

Zolm joined his men in the dining area, sitting next to Setam by the fire as Dasmine served them the warmed stew and bread that she had made and he watched her for a moment as she moved from one to the other, ladling the food into their bowls and breaking them off equal shares of the bread.

Setam, in turn, watched his leader and sighed inwardly, wondering how the younger man managed to keep such a cool detachment when it came to their pretty cook-come-healer. Dasmine was clearly besotted and Setam shook his head, only daring to speak on the matter since he and Zolm were what could be considered as 'friends'.

"Why do you not take her as your wife?" he asked, only his eyes indicating to where Dasmine stood before they looked back at Zolm. "Her father has offered her to you has he not…"

Zolm looked at Setam sharply, unable to believe that he was dignifying the words with a response as he heard himself replying,

"I have no need of a wife…"

"You need a son, someone to pass on your Leadership to when the time comes," Setam argued and Zolm scowled.

"I did not come to this role through family ties Setam and so your argument does not stack up…Ashtad named me because he had no son…"

"But that is my point, if he had of had a son, the role would have gone to the boy…would you not like such a thing?" Setam replied and Zolm looked away.

"A man deserved of the position shall inherit the title…so it matters not."

Setam grumbled and tucked into the stew he had already been served with before Zolm had arrived.

Zolm looked back at the other man, his own words replaying in his mind; 'Ashtad named me because he had no son…'.

He had not had a son, no, but he had had a daughter, Zolm recalled the memory. Ashtad's wife had given birth to a girl who had born the mark of Ashtad's bloodline, one who had so called been killed days later as was the Hassansin tradition; no daughters were allowed to live, only sons. But…had the girl somehow survived?

Zolm stood abruptly, forcing Setam to look up from his food, eyeing his Leader curiously.

"Come with me," Zolm instructed and Setam sighed again and set his bowl down.

OoOo End of Chapter 2 OoOo