Sands of Time
by ErtheChilde

'Your arrogance is nearly as great as your ignorance.'

Summary:

The Doctor and Rose land in fifth century Persia when the TARDIS alerts them to a potentally universe ending shift in the trying to figure out who has been mucking with time, they meet Dastan, a prince of Persia who has done more than simply travel in time, and Tamina, the protector of a powerful relic, they discover an ancient alien threat has been trying to regain power.

Disclaimer:

This story utilizes characters, situations and premises that are copyright the BBC, Disney and Ubisoft. No infringement on their respective copyrights is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan oriented story is written solely for the author's own amusement and the entertainment of the readers. It is not for profit. Any resemblance to real organizations, institutions, products or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All fiction, plot and Original Characters with the exception of those introduced in the books and graphic novels, are the sole creation of ErtheChilde and using them without permission is considered rude, in bad-taste and will reflect seriously on your credibility as a writer. There may or may not be a curse in your future as well, so be warned. Remembered all things come in threes, good and bad. Plagiarizing is considered bad.

Warning:

Spoilers : If it existed in any form of Doctor Who canon, whether television, novelization or graphic novel, it's probably going to be mentioned in here. That includes up to and including 12th/13th/Whatever Doctor Adventures. Likewise, material from the film Prince of Persia: Sands of Time may be used at any time in this fic.

No Beta : I am beta-less at the mo', so any mistakes are my own. I edit as I go, though, so it shouldn't be too bad.

Canadian-Writing-British:As a Canadian, I'm not all-knowing when it comes to British idioms, sayings or slang. I write what sounds right to my ears and when it doubt, I look things up on the Internet, so I might not always get it right. If I'm way off about something, please drop me a line and I'll correct it.

AN: I sort of tweaked history a bit here for the sake of this fic (well, it's Doctor Who, so it's sort of expected) when trying to pinpoint the exact point in time POP happened. Because Disney obviously didn't do their research, and set the story in the fifth century CE but were showing a map of the height of the Achaemenid era prior to Alexander the Great's conquest, I decided to set this at the end of the reign of Cyrus the Great, who the Empire owes a lot of its territory to. I also decided that Cyrus is the king's throne name, the official one put on all the monuments and stuff, while he goes by the familiar name Sharaman, just in order to make the timelines work. This is a total fabrication on my part, and the Classicist in me is nagging me for not researching about ten different journal articles on Achaemenid Persia before writing this…but if I had done that, I would never have the time to actually write the story! So, creative licence is my excuse ^_^ Also: this is a long fic and a crossover, and so for this particular chapter, there will be long stretches of text that are not in Rose or the Doctor's point of view – please don't skip them, as they are important to the plot!

No prior knowledge of Prince of Persia (Movie or Game) is needed to enjoy this story!

ONE

'So let me get this straight,' Rose Tyler clarified. 'You let a twelve-year-old – a kid you've never actually met – fly the TARDIS, but you won't show me how?'

'I never said that!' the Doctor protested.

'You so just did!'

'First of all, it was an emergency – I didn't have much of a choice,' he scowled and crossed his arms. 'Stuck in 1985, remember? No one wants to be stuck in 1985, Rose, not unless they look like Molly Ringwald or that bloke from the duck film.'

'…Duck film?'

'Before your time, maybe. Had to do with hockey instead of football, so probably Canadian,' he allowed with a shrug. 'Second of all, Sally wasn't flying the TARDIS – she just pressed the reset button by the phone and it homed in on my watch –'

'– which you're gonna show me how to do, right?' Rose prompted, and was summarily ignored.

'– and third of all, the TARDIS doesn't fly,' he finished with the slightest curl of his lips. 'Disappears and reappears, remember?'

'No, I forgot,' Rose deadpanned. 'You know, seeing as how my human brains are so small and useless compared to your superior Time Lord ones.'

'Everyone's brains are small and useless compared to mine.'

Rose rolled her eyes.

With anyone else, the entire conversation would have been taken as a joke or the result of some rather strong liquor, but she knew the Doctor was completely serious. He was also telling the truth, despite being exceedingly rude about it.

It was three weeks now that they had known each other, and in that short time they had become quite close. For all his brusqueness, the Doctor was rather protective of her, something she secretly enjoyed. And although she relied on him for pretty much everything these days – it was his ship that she lived on, after all, and he was her only guide to all the amazing places they travelled – it wasn't an unfair dynamic. The Doctor relied on her just as much, if only in a different way.

At the moment, she was the only other living creature in the universe that he had to support him. Other than the TARDIS, of course.

It didn't mean that their friendship didn't have their ups and downs, but those were few and far between.

Her twitting him over his recent escapade with a little girl named Sally Sparrow was just a blip. She was too keen to get back to their life of adventure to be annoyed for keeps.

They were just getting on their way after visiting Rose's home time – although "visiting" was a loose term. The Doctor had put up with half a day of watching EastEnders reruns while Rose did her laundry, and then swanned off before he got get dragged into "another bit of domestic inanity" with her lot.

Which, really, made him sound every inch his nine hundred years and she'd told him so.

He'd harrumphed and sulked at that, but as she left the TARDIS he'd told her to call him as soon as she wanted him to come get her and promised he would check the landing dates thrice to avoid another twelve-hour-twelve-month muck up.

For her part, Rose had ended up spending her time in the flat curled around a hot water bottle, listening to Jackie relate the latest gossip around the estate and chatting with Shareen on the phone.

When she was left to her own devices, instead of spending her time reading the latest magazine issues her mother had been collecting for her, she tracked down an old first aid manual from the back of her closet and set to memorizing it. She had no doubt a few of those skills might one day come in handy, and she very much wanted to be ready in case of the emergencies that inevitably came from travelling with the Doctor. She was still annoyed with herself about forgetting how to perform CPR on their last escapade.

Mickey had come round the first day, ostensibly after hearing the TARDIS, and once he determined the Doctor wasn't around, he'd made an adorable nuisance of himself by sitting and watching telly with her instead of going down to the pub as he usually did.

She'd tried to protest about him making a fuss, but the last time he'd brought her piping hot chips and the really good chocolate, and she hadn't been able to say no.

It wasn't three days before her feet started to itch once more for the adventurous life she'd stumbled into, and so she'd anxiously called the Doctor so that they could start travelling again. Almost before he picked up the phone, she heard the TARDIS wailing into being out on the Estate.

She hadn't been on board two minutes before he started regaling her with what he'd been up to in her absence.

'Dunno what's more unbelievable, though,' Rose remarked now. 'Sword fighting aliens on a balcony in Istanbul, or you going to Devon in the first place. Isn't that, like, the most boring place ever?'

'Haven't you learned anything since we met? There's no such thing as a boring place. Well, except Calufrax. Or possibly Alberta. Most exciting thing to happen there is getting mauled by a cow.'

'I'd pay money to see that,' she smirked.

'That your choice in destination today, then?' he challenged.

'I dunno, what d'you think?'

Rose's preference for letting the Doctor choose their destinations stemmed from the abject glee he seemed to get from it. It was a rare thing for his smile to be genuine and for his eyes to flash with delight instead of sadness. She was only ever guaranteed to see it when they embarked on a new adventure, and so she only rarely made suggestions to him.

Secretly, though, she was afraid of suggesting something boring or stupid. It wasn't like she had paid attention in history class, and most of the events of note she was familiar with came from whatever was in her mum's gossip rags.

It was something she was trying to change, of course.

She'd been struggling through The Mystery of Edwin Drood for almost two weeks now, and though the language was often complex and boring, she could see why the Doctor enjoyed Dickens. And after their visit to the trenches of the First World War to see a football match, the Doctor had showed her to the TARDIS library and a very battered copy of Robert Graves The Christmas Truce. She devoured it, amazed by the fact that she had actually witnessed the events someone else had written about.

Travelling with the Doctor was amazing, opening up doors for her that she never would have imagined for herself. And yet…

And yet, in spite of all the fun they had and the places they went, and how happy she was, Rose couldn't help but wonder why the Doctor had chosen her. Aside from something he'd once said to her when they visited the Roman Republic about seeing how much she wanted to travel with him, she couldn't come up with anything that made sense.

She wasn't particularly educated and hadn't heard of most of the places or people he tended to suggest visiting. Despite everything they had done together, at the back of mind she always felt a constant, niggling worry that he would one day come to his senses about dragging some 'stupid ape' alone with him and drop her at home.

Spunk and a bronze in gymnastics can only get you so far, she thought grimly.

'Could go visit –'

But whatever the Doctor was going to suggest was cut off by a sudden jarring of the entire console room, and Rose found herself thrown to the unforgiving grating. A blaring, sonorous clang like a church bell filled the air, and Rose had to cover her ears.

'What the hell is that?' she yelled above the noise.

'Something bad,' the Doctor yelled back, jumping back and forth around the console, flipping switches and pumping levers and swirling dials with a kind of franticness she'd never seen.

'Are we crashing?'

'Don't be stupid, that bell almost never rings when I crash,' he snapped, tapping something onto the view screen and reaching for some kind of wire. 'That's the sound of the universe beginning to fray at the edges!'

'Oh, is that all?!'

'Shut up and hold down that lever!'

Rose did as she was told, concentrating on helping the Doctor do whatever it was he did to keep them from falling out of the sky.

Space…Vortex…whatever, she thought, puffing in effort as the lever tried to escape her grasp and holding on for dear life.

The TARDIS finally came to a shaking stop, the room shuddering into darknes before some kind of auxiliary light source came on. Along with the glow from the Time Rotor, it cast eerie shadows across their faces.

As soon as she was sure the ship wasn't about to start shaking again, Rose asked, 'What just happened?'

The Doctor fussed about with something near the view screen. 'The TARDIS just made an emergency landing – but she's not telling me why.'

'Well where'd she land us then?'

'Fifth century Persia, by the looks of it,' the Doctor replied immediately as Rose came over to glance over his shoulder. Outside, she could make out a lot of sand and a large walled city in the distance; some coloured tents and stalls were set up just outside of it. 'Or near enough.'

'Doesn't look like anything's wrong.'

'Either we've landed before the catalyst, or we were lucky and there's a long enough transition period that we have time to fix things.'

'Really colourful – oh, does this mean I get to dress up?'

'Not really a priority right now,' the Doctor said. 'Just gonna do a quick scan…'

'If we're in such a hurry that I can't get dressed up, we might as well just go out and ask directions,' Rose pointed out, a bit exasperated.

'Just give me a minute –'

Rose rolled her eyes, already on her way out of the TARDIS. 'What is it with men and never asking for directions?'

'Oh, yes, that's right, fantastic – just walk out of the TARDIS without even bothering to check the situation first, are you?' the Doctor called from behind her, and she heard the sound of him dropping the mallet on the floor in his haste to follow her. 'Remember what happened last time you did that?'

'Nope.'

'Exactly!' he declared, as though that won him the argument. 'You stepped off a bloody kilometer high tree!'

'Always wanted to try base jumping,' she returned, deliberately keeping her tone light in the face of his disapproval.

'You also almost got poisoned by one of the locals you managed to annoy.'

'Then I won't accept any drinks from strangers.'

'Best not accept anything to drink, period,' the Doctor cautioned her as they came up to one of the brightly coloured tents. 'They don't exactly have safe water at this point in time, if you get my meaning.'

'Right,' Rose said, wrinkling her nose. 'Hey, why's there a market out here and not inside the city?'

'Oh, there is a market in the city. These are just the people that haven't been given permission to enter the city at the moment. Some city's at this time were free game, but others were select in who they allowed in.'

'So this is one of 'em?'

'Looks like. Here, let me find out.'

He flagged down a man in a burnoose and carrying a pouch that swished with liquid.

'Forgive my interruption, friend, but my companion and I have just come off a long journey – tell me, where have we arrived?'

'You stand outside the holy city of Alamut, traveller.'

'Fantastic. Now tell me, how long has it been since the reign of the Great King Nabonassar of Babylon?'

'Over two hundred years,' the man said, bemused.

'Doesn't help,' the Doctor answered. 'How 'bout this? When did the last Median king die?'

'It has been twenty-one years since Astyages succumbed to death.'

'Twenty-one, you say?'

'Indeed.'

'Thanks,' he said, motioning for Rose to come with him, a frown on his face.

She raised an eyebrow. 'So? What's that tell you?'

'It tells me that it's 529 BC.'

'That's it?'

'For now.'

'Everything seems okay,' Rose pointed out. There weren't any people running about in a panicked frenzy, at any rate.

'Could've been a false alarm,' the Doctor agreed. 'Glitch in the warning systems…' He didn't look happy about that, but shrugged. 'Oh, well, good excuse to explore.'

'Should we split up to cover more ground?'

'Not a good idea – Persia's not a good place for a woman to wander around with other women, unless you're royal – and you're already gonna attract attention for that streetlamp you call hair.'

'Well, if you'd let me change…'

They wander off together and headed towards the walled city. As they neared it, the Doctor started telling her about where they were.

'Early days of the Achaemenid Empire,' the Doctor explained. 'Widely considered to be the greatest era for Persia – the empire didn't even come to an end until Alexander the Great waltzed in. And even then, it just continued under another name until it was conquered again.'

They halted at the gate of the city, where two sentries told them only people on official business could be let inside. The city was recovering from a recent siege by the Persian army and they didn't want any strangers…or the trouble that came with them.

Once again the Doctor's psychic paper made an appearance, and they found themselves waved through.

Upon getting inside, though, the doctor frowned.

'This is wrong,' the Doctor said quietly, looking around the packed streets filled with market-goers and soldiers.

'Why?'

'The Persians shouldn't be here,' he told her. 'Not now. There was a battle here, yes, but the treaty that stopped the fighting also ensured the Persians would take their army and leave. Also, if I've got the year right, Cyrus the Great should've just died. Meaning they should be back in their capital, mourning.'

He stopped a passing Alamutian. 'Forgive me ignorance, but my friend and I have just arrived in town. Why is the Persian army still here? Shouldn't they have gone back to Avrat?'

'Small chance of that, while their king resides here,' the man snorted. 'It seems old Sharaman has decided our jewel of a city is to grace his crown after all.'

He wandered off.

'Sharaman,' the Doctor repeated tonelessly.

'Friend of yours?' Rose asked.

'No,' he answered. 'Sharaman was the personal name of Cyrus the Great.'

'The one who's supposed to be dead?!'

'Yes. He's supposed to be dead at Syr Darya and the entire land in mourning for his passing,' he told her. 'His son is supposed to be ruling as Cambysis the II right now.'

'And that's not what's happened?'

'Exactly. It's not an all-out temporal paradox yet, but it's causing enough weak spots that the whole Web of Time will eventually destabilize in about – hm, twenty days and a quarter.'

'Can't be more specific, could you?'

'Didn't want to come off as pretentious.'

'Oh, never that.'

'So what are we supposed to do to make it not destabilize.'

'I'll let you know once we figure out how serious all of it is,' he told her. Then he frowned, his jaw clenching a bit. 'Once, this sort of thing would've been dealt with before it could even happen. But that's when there were Time Lords to watch it.'

His expression cleared again.

'Oh, well, seeing as there's just me, we'll have to make do.'

But something about the more immediate situation nagged at Rose. Once she realized what it was she wondered if she should ask the Doctor about it. He might think she her question was stupid, or maybe too human for his notice.

But she needed to know.'

'Doctor…if all this is happening cos this king is alive…does that mean we have to, er…kill him?'

The Doctor shot her a shrewd look, and though she expected a retort or some comment about the violence of humans, instead he seemed to be deciding something.

'It's a tricky thing, dealing in life and death,' he finally told her in a heavy voice. 'You've seen it yourself, Rose. People die all the time around us. Can't save everyone. And those that you do save…how many people died because they lived or will die because they live? Does my influence in changing events – events that could end up indirectly killing someone a generation from now – does it make me less culpable than if I were to hold a gun to their head now and pull the trigger?'

'I…'

'Don't try to answer that. Questions like that require thought, as well as acceptance once you arrive by them. Just know right now that I would never set out on a mission just to kill someone. But we might have to set events in motion that could lead to that outcome if the timelines call for it. There is a man alive today – a great man, whose name still means something in your time – who is not meant to be. The easiest resolution to all of it would be for him to die.' He met her gaze levelly for a second, and then the ancient alien quality disappeared. He grinned. 'But then again, time can now be rewritten. If I can manage it just right, maybe it's just a matter of tricking the timelines a bit.'

'Yeah?'

'We'll see. At any rate, right now we just need to do some investigating,' he determined. 'Maybe get a first-hand account of how, and why, events came to be this way.'

He nodded in the direction of the palatial structure towering high above every other building.

'Which means we're going to visit the palace?'

'Which means we're going to visit the palace.'

Rose sighed. 'Wish I'd worn my good trainers.'

· ΘΣ ·

Lion of Persia, my arse, Prince Dastan thought as he shifted uncomfortably on his low stool. More like royal trained monkey, these days.

It was hot in the audience chamber, and far too densely packed to be comfortable. Robed clerks and advisors gathered in the middle of the room, while guards lined the exits and walls. The entire place smelled of scented oil, sweat and fear. The latter was definitely warranted, considering the ruthless way in which King Sharaman had been dealing with his subjects in the past few weeks, but the presence of it annoyed him all the same.

Dastan had not been born to sit in council with the royal classes. Although a twist of good fortune had seen the king adopt him as a child, it didn't make him more suited to rubbing shoulders with the bureaucrats. He was chiefly conscious of the element of otherness and – according to some – uncouthness that he introduced to the room.

Unlike the perfumed, fastidiously groomed men that made up his father's council of advisors, Dastan was made of a rougher quality. His skin was sunburnt from long hours spent in training, and his hands rough from wielding a sword. He was never one for sporting the rigorously curled hair of the upper classes, and he was more likely to sheer off his beard with the edge of a dagger than submit to the grooming attentions of a palace servant. He didn't have patience for such frippery, and even being at this meeting was severely testing his patience.

Still, his father had requested his presence in conclave, and in light of recent events, it was best to appease him.

Sharaman was a man in his later years, the grey in his hair and beard doing nothing to hide the hard weariness in his dark eyes. Although he was seated on the only chair in the room – a gilded, silk draped piece provided by their hosts – and dressed in finery, he still had the look of a man that had once been fierce in battle. Age had handicapped him in some ways, though, and while he could still ride, he could no longer lead the charge.

None of this had affected his mind, though, or his iron will. The past weeks had shown just how much of his unwavering nature remained.

The audience chamber where they sat was one of the rooms allocated to the visiting Persian dignitaries, along with several opulent guest apartments. The sheer excess in the Alamutian hospitality was likely tongue-in-cheek gesture of forgiveness for the Persian's misguided invasion of the city several weeks back, and everyone in the room knew it.

The Persians, headed by Dastan's brothers Tus and Garsiv, had attacked the city against their father's wishes based on information given to them by their uncle, Nizam. Although not in agreement about the decision, Dastan had done his duty and helped to take the city, only to discover that Nizam was a traitor. His adopted uncle had intended to use the invasion of Alamut as a smokescreen for a plan to murder his brother. Dastan had discovered the treachery, and with the help of his brothers, dealt with Nizam.

In the wake of this discovery, Tus had made a formal apology to the ruler of Alamut and started negotiations for peace that wouldn't result in too much embarrassment for either party.

He hadn't managed to pull it off fast enough, however.

Their father, away on military campaign in Syr Darya, had heard of his sons' disobedience in attacking Alamut and come there himself in order to rebuke them for it – only to discover news of his brother's betrayal.

Disillusioned by what he viewed as rampant betrayal everywhere, Sharaman had banished his natural sons from his sight and taken back sole control of Persia. He permitted Dastan to stay, reasoning that perhaps his adopted son would be more obedient, for he owed him everything.

'Evidently blood corrupts just as easily as anything other element,' the king had told him one night, sounding weary and old as he did. 'It is only the character of a man that matters, I see that now. Tus is too indecisive to be a good king, and Garsiv too quick to act. But you, Dastan…you are more balance than either, and more loyal both. Your presence by my side is a balm.'

Dastan wasn't exactly sure what his father had been talking about, but at the moment he was entertaining the rather irreverent thought that maybe being banished wouldn't have been too dad. Counsel-sitting was not his preferred past time, and since his father took up residence in Alamut, it seemed all he was concerned with doing.

He had thrown himself into negotiations with Princess Tamina, who ruled Alamut in place of her aging grandfather, intending to sue for peace with Alamut under his own terms. It was said he hoped to ensure nothing like this could ever happen again, but Dastan knew a fit of temper when he saw it. There had even been talk of disinheriting Tus and Garsiv for their actions.

I wish he had thought through his own actions, Dastan thought ruefully. By sending Tus away, Sharaman had invalidated any agreements made by him with the ruler of Alamut, including Dastan's own engagement to Tamina.

It was for this reason that such diplomatic conclaves were still required.

Today's conclave was winding down, but it was only a matter of time before the Alamutians were due to arrive. The only upside of that one was that Dastan would have a chance to see Tamina, even if it was only from the side-lines.

'There is one last thing I wish to address,' his king said suddenly, causing his ears to perk up. 'As my eldest sons have shamed their father, and so themselves, with the actions that led us here, the stability of my kingdom is at stake.'

Everyone in the room held their breath. It was the first time in weeks that the possible fate of Tus and Garsiv was being discussed, and fortunes could rise or fall based on what the king decided to do.

'Were anything to happen to me during this time, any enemy could take advantage of that and try to destroy all that I have built since the fall of the Medians,' Sharaman continued. 'As such, I intend for the son of my heart, if not my blood, to take the mantle of heir during this uncertain time.'

There was an almost collective intake of breath from the other men in the room, and even the guards who were meant to be no more than lifeless fixtures, seemed amazed by what they had heard.

Alright, didn't see that one coming, Dastan thought, completely floored by his father's words.

'Majesty,' one of the more wizened advisors began, bowing his head respectively, 'this unworthy servant would never dream to question your decisions, for you speak with the words of the gods…however, caution may be in order.'

'It is a difficult position to be in, of course, but perhaps we must consult with the augers?' another suggested. 'It is your bloodline that was chosen by the gods, and…and however admirable all who have met your son Dastan know his qualities to be…were a commoner to take the throne…'

They were all looking at him, some of them looking resentful – as if this had been his idea – while others seemed beseeching. Dastan didn't need to think very hard about what those looks or the advisors words meant.

Civil war, Dastan thought grimly. Exactly the kind of thing I've been trying to keep from happening.

With his brothers and their armies gone, he was the only one left to represent their interests. How he answered this sudden and unexpected decision from his father, would determine whether he was banished from the court as well – or whether one of his brother's loyal followers tried to put a knife in his back.

Actually, that last bit might happen no matter what I do.

Gathering his thoughts, he took a breath and addressed is father.

'Father, this is a great honour that you would do for me…and no doubt I would still have much to learn from your wisdom, as I've done all my life,' he started cautiously. 'But I would be dishonouring my brother Tus if I were to take his birth right, as well as that of Garsiv. I know they've displeased you in the past, but I believe them to be good men who will make their amends to you once they truly understand the error of their ways.'

Not bad for my first diplomatic answer, I think, Dastan thought. Hopefully I'm not about to be thrown out of here, though.

The advisors all seemed to be holding their breath as well.

Sharaman offered his son a calculating look, and then something close to a smile threatened beneath his beard.

'Your loyalty is commendable, my son, and perhaps your best quality, even if respecting authority is not,' Sharaman said. 'And it is possible you are right. Perhaps. But that time may be far off, and the throne could fall into question if I have no heir. You have shown yourself to be a man of honour so many times over, and your part in exposing my own brother's treachery did not go unnoticed. If any man were fit to follow in my footsteps, even temporarily, it is you. Even my virtuous advisors must see that as well.'

They all rushed to agree with him of course, but Dastan could tell at least half of them weren't entirely convinced.

Count me as one of those, he thought.

'I think this is an important matter and should not be decided when there's so little time before the Alamutians arrive,' he deflected carefully. 'Also, I've neglected the city's quite a while today. As they are our sole protection since Tus and Garsiv left with their men, I ought to check on them. It will…give me time to consider your suggestion, and all that entails.'

Sharaman nodded. 'It would concern me if you didn't give the matter thought.'

He made a dismissing gesture with his hand, and Dastan stood up.

Offering his father a short bow, he left the room and kept his face very carefully blank. He had to figure out some kind of plan to mend the fences between his father and his brothers, before it really did lead to Civil War.

How could his father think that this was a good idea? Ignore what his brothers would come to believe about him – there were some days that he thought Garsiv might dearly love the idea of cleaving his head from his body, no matter that they had eaten from the same dish and slept in the same bed since childhood – the Persian aristocracy would revolt. The idea of being ruled by a common, former street rat? Even in the interim they wouldn't tolerate it.

He turned a corner and headed into a hallway that showed a panorama of the city beneath the palace. This place would not be the first destroyed if it came to a power struggle.

Dastan had watched over the years how conniving many of them were, and how they orchestrated each other's rises and falls based on rumour and the exchange of gold. There was little anyone could do if they disliked the king, he was chosen by the gods, but anyone else was fair game.

He had no intention of being the reason the empire fell, even if his father –

He tensed.

Someone was following him.

Likely they had been doing so since he left the counsel and his thoughts had been too convoluted to notice.

He gave no sign of noticing now.

People walked openly here, servants and royals alike, and anyone that had cause to be sneaking about couldn't be doing it for altruistic reasons. If whoever it was had followed him from the council chamber, perhaps they knew what he had been offered…and intended to deal with him before he came an issue.

Blatant assassination attempts weren't unknown in Persia, but he'd be damned if it would happen to him.

He turned down another corridor, one he knew was less travelled than most and less likely to be noticed by the guards that occasionally roamed the place on watch.

There was a dagger in his vest, one he kept on his person despite the law that no one could have a weapon on them while in the presence of the king. It was a habit born of his early life on the street, and one nothing could break him of.

Slipping into the shadows of an alcove, he waited for whoever followed him to come after him. There was a pause in the tread of whoever it was, and then a hooded figure slowly stepped into the corridor.

The person paused, likely confused that Dastan wasn't in front of them anymore, and he took that opportunity to grab his pursuer and drag him into the shadows.

Dagger at his stalker's throat, any interrogating questions died on his lips, when he recognized the black eyes that positively burned at him.

'Is it custom in your land to kill anyone who desires conversation with you, or is that just reserved for a former betrothed?' Princess Tamina quipped, not even flinching at the cold metal against her.

Dastan felt his mouth twitch in response to that.

For all that she was known far and wide for her beauty and her wisdom, what many did not know about the Alamutian princess was that she had a wicked tongue and an even more indomitable spirit. She had spent her life putting on a brave face for others, so that it was only in the rarest of circumstance that she lost control.

It was a trait he greatly admired, almost as much as he admired Tamina herself.

That being said, her presence here was a bit problematic.

'You're not supposed to be out here,' he told her softly.

'Out here in the hallways of my own palace?' she challenged. 'Or out here with you, prince?'

She looked coy, obviously knowing what he had meant and ignoring it completely. He had to fight the urge to wipe that look off her face himself, if only to safeguard her reputation now that they were no longer betrothed.

Theirs had been a brief engagement following the accidental and not-quite invasion of Alamut. Instead of rushing ahead with a wedding, though, they had chosen to delay their nuptials long enough for those who died in the battle to be given the proper rites. It had also seemed prudent to allow the Alamutians and some of the Persians adjust to the idea of their union, and have time to suitably prepare for the festivities.

Dastan had also wanted to wait for Sharaman's presence in order to bless the union. Not only was it Dastan's first marriage, but – on his side of things, anyhow – he genuinely cared for Tamina. His father had dearly loved both his deceased wives and had been happy, and Dastan had believed a blessing from him would ensure a strong union.

He and Tamina had spent the time awaiting the king's arrival getting to know one another, and in a short span grown to care for each other. Possibly it was due to that other life that only he remembered, and which Tamina only suspected.

For Dastan was more than just the hero of the Persian army and the man responsible for staying discovering Nizam's treachery. What no one else knew was that he had done much more than that. He had lived an entire different life, one which had taken a more gruesome turn following the taking of Alamut than what was happening now. With the help of a magic dagger and the help of Tamina herself in that other life, he had discovered Nizam's plans to become king and stopped him. He had even managed to turn back time to save his brothers and father's lives, as well as the existence of the entire world.

He had told Tamina the tale when he returned the dagger to her, as her family was its Guardian, and it was this gesture that had caused him to trust him in the beginning. It had led to them becoming closer as time went on, as well.

However, when Sharaman arrived, the possible union between them was broken, as all other decisions made by Tus. It was questionable now whether they would ever marry, especially if the king was against it. As such, Tamina was not supposed to be around him without an escort.

'You know what I mean,' he told her pointedly.

'I will be meeting with your father and his advisors soon, and it was imperative I speak to you,' she told him, apropos of nothing. 'I think there's something going on among the other Guardians.'

'What do you mean?'

'I'm not quite sure,' she admitted. 'People aren't behaving as themselves, and there is an…undercurrent of some sort. It has been building since Alamut was first attacked.'

'And you have no idea what it is?' he asked. 'What do you want me to do about it?'

'You are one of the handful of people I feel I can trust right now,' she told him. 'If something should happen…I may need you to guard the Dagger for a time.'

Dastan tensed.

He knew what kind of temptation and burden she was asking him to carry, and so did she.

'That's a bit much, isn't it?' he asked. 'You don't even know if there's anything really happening.'

'I feel something is not right,' she told him earnestly. 'And if I am right, then whatever is about to happen could affect more than just the Persians or the Alamutians. It could affect the entire world.'

It was something he knew to be true as well, but he had to keep the politics of it all in consideration.

'You forget, princess, I've already experienced what it feels like to be hunted down like a traitor by my own family,' he told her quietly. 'If I were to take the Dagger and there really was something going on with the other Guardians, they would hunt me down and convince my father to do the same in the name of peace. I know how important the Dagger is, but I won't do that until we know for sure that warrants it.'

Tamina drew away, looking disappointed. 'You don't trust my judgement on this?'

'I do…but we still need to be careful,' Dastan told her. 'You've told me your suspicions…now go to you meeting. I'll keep an eye out as well, and if there is anything…you and I will deal with it. I promise.'

'Very well,' the princess said, stepping farther away and pulling her hood back up. 'But I only hope that your priorities don't end up dooming us all.'

And with that she disappeared.

Dastan shook his head.

Impatient woman, he thought, and with a tongue sharper than that Dagger of hers.

He waited for her steps to fade before he stepped out of the alcove, intent on going in the other direction.

He stopped when he realized he wasn't alone.

Standing several feet away with a look of disapproval was one of Tamina's people. Dastan dimly recognized him as Shahnaz Varka, a cousin of hers, if he recalled correctly.

He was also the man who had been tasked with getting the Dagger out of Alamut during the battle. Dastan had defeated him and taken the dagger, thus setting of his adventure through time.

'You are not permitted to be with the princess alone,' the bearded man scowled.

'Thought I'd proven already that I'm a perfect gentleman around the princess,' Dastan deflected easily, moving to pass the other man.

A hand grabbed him roughly and turned him around.

'You will stay away from her, commoner,' the man growled. 'Your interference in matters that don't concern you is now over. If you value your life, you will stay away.'

And he disappeared in the other direction.

'Well, that wasn't very smart of you,' Dastan said once he was alone. 'Because now I have to find out what's going on.'

· P ·