A/N

Disclosure in that the idea for this came from a segment from the film Ali's Wedding, where a similar 'donkey story' is given in a sermon in a mosque. I looked around, but if this is an actual Islamic fable, I couldn't find it. So, basically taking the idea of the fable, but transposing it to the setting of the 2008 game, after Ahriman's (eventual?) defeat.

My Kingdom for a Donkey

Once upon a time, in the ancient lands of Persia, there was a prince, a princess, and a donkey.

They had travelled together for long while, along their path to Babylon of old. Long had passed the dark of Ahriman, but now they had to contend with the searing heat of the sun, casting its light upon the dunes. Upon the travellers as well, as they made their way across the shifting sands. They, together, upon their donkey. The donkey who had lost the gold that would have made the prince rich, before he discovered even greater treasure. The donkey, who was a good donkey, and could therefore carry them to the town before them – a hidden oasis amongst the sands. A diamond in the ruff. Here, they could lie on rugs as thick as shields, partake in food and wine, and come night…well, who was to say that only the stars and moon could provide illumination?

Yet something was amiss in this town, for these two travellers upon their donkey. They saw the frowns of the townsfolk, scorching them as surely as the sun. And like the wind carried flecks of sand, they also felt the sting of their words.

"That poor donkey," they cried, "why must it carry two travellers? Have you no shame? The poor thing must be exhausted!"

Such comments were ill suited for a prince and princess, but as they glanced uneasily at each other, they realized there was truth in the villagers' words. They dismounted from their donkey, who was a good donkey, and partook in wine and merriment. Yet only the moon and stars shone that night.

Come the morrow, they continued their journey. They, who would arrive in Babylon of old, and live as gods. But their donkey, who was a good donkey, gave them pause, as the words of the villagers stung in their ears, as flies might sting their skin. Could they ask their donkey to carry them the rest of the way?

"No," said the prince, "I shall walk, and my donkey shall carry you. For she is a good donkey, and I will not burden her as such."

The princess, after much coercing, agreed. So across the dunes of ancient Persia they travelled, along the road to Babylon of old. The wind rose, and the shadows were long, and the prince grew tired, for even he, slayer of gods, could not walk across the sands forever. For what is sand if not the measure of time, and what is time if not the dagger that comes closer to one's heart through their life? And did not the prince's heart beat faster in the presence of the princess?

He would have many years before time took him though. And at last, they found themselves at a second town, no different from the first. Tonight, the prince said, they would sleep on carpets as thick as shields, partake in food and wine, and come night…well, come night he'd probably sleep the sleep of the departed. The princess, who had ridden on the donkey, and who was of far higher spirits, understood. She offered to dismount, but the prince refused – she was his princess, and he her prince. He would guide them into the town. Yet again, the villagers looked upon them with scorn, or rather, the princess.

"What wretched woman is this?" they exclaimed. "The prince walks across the desert sands, while she rides upon a donkey? Look at the sword at his side – this is a warrior of renown. Why is it not he who rides upon the donkey? What prince would serve such a woman?"

The words made both the prince and princess uncomfortable. It was not long before the princess dismounted the donkey (who was a good donkey), and both made their way to a place where they could sleep on rugs as thick as shields, and partake in food and wine. Yet the whispers of the townsfolk followed them, as if a succubus had taken in her prey. In silence, they partook in food and wine, but only the stars shone that night, for the moon was covered by cloud.

"My prince," said the princess, as both lay on carpets as thick as shields. "Come the morn, I bid you ride your donkey. For she is a good donkey, and will be glad to take you. It would not befitting of me to see the sands from above, when you yourself have fought through their stings."

The prince agreed, but was uneasy. For while he knew the sting of sand, the sting of men's mouths could cut ever deeper. And he, who carried a sword at his side, knew all about the weakness of the flesh.

So, come the morn, they continued their journey to Babylon of old. The prince upon his donkey (who was a good donkey), and his princess leading the way. The sands grew ever deeper, the wind blew ever harder, and night, it seemed, came early. Soon enough for the princess, who looked like a desert flower too far from an oasis. The prince, seeing the water upon her petals, offered to dismount, but she refused. They had travelled this far, on the road to ancient Babylon, and she would not place herself above her prince now. Tonight, she said, they would sleep on rugs as thick as shields, and partake in food and wine, and come the night…the princess let out a yawn. Tonight she would sleep the sleep of the departed. The prince frowned, but nonetheless listened to the princess, and remained mounted on his donkey (who was a good donkey) as they entered the town. Here, they were free from the touch of sand, but the barbs of men's tongues still assailed them.

"What kind of man is this?" they cried. "This prince, who rides upon his donkey, while leaving his princess to wilt in the desert? What woman would remain with such a man? Is he to treat his princess as nothing more than a concubine?"

The prince dismounted. He was not a man who wore armour, but even if he had, he did not want to bear the spears of spite that came his way. The two again made their way to an abode, where the people whispered – was this princess even a princess, or merely a thrall to the man who rode the donkey? She, the desert flower…did he seek to pluck that which bloomed? As they slept on rugs as thick as shields, no light came through their window. For the moon was gone, and clouds covered the stars. No flower could bloom in such a place of darkness.

Come the morn, they continued on their road. This time, they both walked, and took turns leading their donkey (who was a good donkey) on the road to ancient Babylon. This, the land of the prince's birth, which he had departed long ago. This, the land he would rule. He would not be mounted while his princess suffered, but this time, she would not mount the donkey. For the donkey was a good donkey, and had carried them this far already. They would, she said, walk as equals, under the light of the sun, and endure the daggers of the sands together. Come the night, she said, they would sleep on rugs as thick as shields, and sleep the same sleep. The prince agreed, and as the sun ended its celestial dance, as they came to another village, they smiled. They would walk as equals, and some day, with the blessings of Ahura Mazda, rule as well. Yet as they walked into town, the villagers beheld their prince and princess, and laughed.

"What is this?" they exclaimed. "Two travellers, neither of whom rides their donkey? Do they not understand that this beast is meant to be ridden? Are these two to rule our land in wisdom when they cannot mount the ass?"

That night, neither prince nor princess slept on rugs as thick as carpets, or partook in food and wine. Instead, they continued on, out onto the dunes, as time ticked ever onwards, and the dagger became ever full, closer to their hearts. Neither of them cared to endure the barbs of the villagers. But as the sand fell still that night, and the light of their fire became their only source of illumination, they discussed what else they might do on their journey? For while their donkey was a good donkey, neither of them could ride it without earning he barbs of men. But if neither of them rode their donkey, the tongues of men would still remain sharp.

"Perhaps we should leave her," said the princess. "For while your donkey is a good donkey, she has drawn us ire I do not wish to endure."

The prince remained silent. His donkey was a good donkey, but had still lost his treasure. And he did not wish to hear the words of those with forked tongues. For a moment, he wished that he'd never met his princess. A moment is but a grain in the sands of time, but if one has enough grains of sand, they may make a desert. But, the prince reflected, with enough grains of wheat, one could feed an empire. An empire he would rule one day, with his princess at his side.

And then he understood.

"Our donkey is a good donkey," he said, "and as barbed as the tongues of men may be, I must believe that they are good as well."

"I suppose as much," answered the princess.

"Then let us carry on to ancient Babylon," he said. "We shall ride our donkey, for she is a good donkey, as needs allow. One, both, or neither."

"But what of the people?"

"The people may say as they wish, for what is a ruler without armour? Who am I if I cannot endure the barbs of the flies, let alone the daggers of assassins, or the teeth of wolves? We must carry on, and not worry about the opinions of those with forked tongues. We must reach Babylon, so we may listen to those who speak fairly and truthfully, not those who let loose their words upon the wind without thought."

The princess saw wisdom in such words and agreed. Their donkey (who was a good donkey) let out a bray.

So the prince and princess continued on to Babylon of old. In every town, whether on their donkey (who was a good donkey) or beside it, the people laughed, or shouted, or both. But they kept onwards. Under the light of the stars, as the clouds parted. Under the light of the moon, which shone at its fullest in due time. Under the light of the sun, as the gates of Babylon of old opened. For they had endured the sand, and could now walk amongst the grass of Babylon's gardens. Heavy were the crowns upon their heads, but light were their hearts. And their donkey (who was a good donkey), could eat straw and sugar to her heart's content. No thorns for their donkey (who was a good donkey), for she had been with them through the thorns of the world.

Such is the tale of the prince and princess who came to rule Babylon of old. Who at the passing of the sun, could partake in food and wine, and sleep on rugs as thick as shields. Who, as the last light of Babylon was extinguished, could find the energy to make light of their own.