Earning Respect

By: Tidia

Rating: PG-13

Notes: Thank you for the warm reviews in my last story, Standing with Brothers. I also posted a modern AU, and will probably add to that soon, too. But this story wanted to be written, too. Self- betaed so all mistakes are my own. Also, if there is interest in getting another movie made- Facebook Disney along with sending them emails and of course buying the DVD. I am a strong believer in making things happen with a little bit of effort.

An empire was only as strong as its borders. A weak border was an invitation to the Byzantines who grew bold in their attacks to threaten the Persian Empire. It was enough of a threat that King Sharaman would lead his army to a decisive answer.

The tents of Sharaman and Tus were concentrated in the middle of the camp. Garsiv and Dastan were on the outer edges. The princes were planning the patrols, especially as they eased their way closer to the area of skirmishes.

Dastan followed the markings on the map; their father had retired to his tent, leaving his sons to make the decisions.

Garsiv pointed to where he would station his men on horseback. Tus patted him on the shoulder.

"What about my men? They can keep watch." Dastan asked, looking between his brothers.

Garsiv did not answer him, instead rolling up the map and handing it to one of his guards.

Tus pulled his brother away from the table to another one set with food, passing Dastan a fruit from the tray. "Garsiv's men know what to look for–they are familiar with the area."

Dastan took the fruit with a smile that belied his disappointment. "I should get back to my men."

He walked through the camp, eyeing the soldiers and their competence. Tus and Garsiv did not think he was battle ready, and Garsiv discriminated against his men, questioning their loyalty.

Dastan had no such doubts. Bis was waiting for him at the tent, talking to a few of the men. He gestured for his friend to follow him inside. "Bis, set up distance patrols-behind and ahead, using discretion. No one else should know." Garsiv had his plan, but Dastan had another. He was also still following orders in his own way.

"Very well." Bis cocked an eyebrow. They were less formal than Tus and Garsiv were accustomed to. It came from growing up together. "Extra rations?" Bis asked, the men who would do this task deserved a reward.

"Extra rations, and keep me informed if anything is amiss," Dastan said and Bis went to perform his duty. Dastan took a bite of the fruit, finishing it before removing his blade for the evening and laying in his pallet for some rest. They would move again in the morning and set up their final camp before they attacked.

The next day Dastan listened to his father's plan for multiple attacks on the Byzantines, places they were trying to overtake. The Persian army was large enough that they would be divided into two units and be victorious with Sharaman's plan. His father and Tus would take the larger stronghold while Garsiv and Dastan were taking the smaller fortresses. They would attack at dawn. Dastan did not broach the topic of patrols again. His brothers would not listen to him, and it was not a subject to bring to his father.

The king was in a merry mood, looking forward to bringing finality to the Byzantines. Dastan waved off drinking, but enjoyed the company of his brothers and father, listening as Nazim told battle stories from his youth.

Before retiring Dastan checked on his men to make sure they were prepared for the battle in the morning. He removed his tunic when Bis barged in, a bloodied soldier with him.

"The Byzantines are planning an attack on the camp!" Bis announced, helping the soldier to keep standing.

"What happened?" Dastan grabbed one of his swords.

"Prince Dastan, the Byzantines have been following, hiding well. They plan to attack the camp," the soldier explained.

Dastan squeezed the soldier's shoulder. "Thank you, Rajim." He directed his orders to Bis, striding out of the tent and into action. "Bis, sound the alarm, report to my father and protect him and Tus." He gestured to the men he had just spoken to before going to rest. "You men, light up the sky, let's see where these Byzantine scum are."

The men moved fast, their weaponry by their side. They went along the outside edge of the camp. In the distance he could hear the camp coming alive with Bis's warning. Dastan grabbed a bow; the arrow was lit and fired into the air, making the sky glow.

"They're right on top of us!" Dastan yelled, his sword at the ready as he plunged to attack the raiding Byzantines who had blended masterfully into the sand and night.

His men were joined by other soldiers and soon the camp was in an uproar, fire lighting the way and showing the treachery in their midst. Dastan was backing up toward his tent. He pulled one of the poles, jabbing it into the stomach of one attacker, while using his sword to slice at another one. He took a moment to assess the battle. The Byzantines were being forced back, but that was not enough. They needed to be eliminated.

He saw where one of his men was pinned down by enemy soldiers. Pulling the pole he had used for his attack. He plunged forward into the fray, taking two of the Byzantines down. As he came to standing he felt the sting of sword across his back. He had no armor to protect himself. He pushed his sword backward, hitting the man who had injured him.

Dastan's man was safe, their area littered with bodies. The battle was well in hand with the Persian Army sending a roar out as their enemies were dealt a blow. With his back still blazing, he grabbed a dark tunic and slipped it on with a hiss to cover the wound as he went to find his father and brothers and check on their well-being.

Bis was outside his father's tent. "All is well."

Dastan nodded to his friend as Bis announced his presence to the king.

His father dismissed his men. He wrapped an arm around his son, and Dastan hid the wince. "Your man warned us in time. The reports are the barbarians have been dealt with. You did well, Dastan."

Dastan basked in his father's praise. "And the battle for tomorrow?"

"Remains the same. We will attack at dawn." Sharaman pounded his fist against the flat of other hand. "With my sons at my side, the Byzantines will be crushed."

"Very well, Father. I will assist my brothers." Dastan left his father's tent. Bis had brought their horses. With a groan Dastan hoisted himself on the animal's back, and they went to find Tus and Garsiv.

Garsiv greeted him first, "Did you send out patrols?"

Dastan remained calm at his brother's rancor. "Are you sure, brother that you are not missing a sentiment?" Dastan would have liked some sort of appreciation, even if it was for circumventing orders.

"You did well, Dastan. A clandestine attack would have been devastating," Tus interrupted. "Your men have proved their loyalty."

Garsiv snorted. He was not going to acknowledge Dastan's men. "There will be a funeral pyre that can be seen by any other Byzantine that stands in our way."

"Tus, I will tell the men of your words," Dastan answered, ignoring Garsiv.

Garsiv chuckled. "They need encouragement for the battle tomorrow?"

"They are my men, happier than your lot, Garsiv."

"You are misguided." Garsiv positioned his horse side to side with Dastan. "Happiness doesn't win battles."

Dastan knew without a doubt his men would do anything for him, which is why they followed him into battles, followed his orders. "No, it changes the tides of war."

"Are you two finished? Tomorrow is a battle," Tus stated, placed in the position of breaking up the brother's rivalry.

"Good night, brothers," Dastan said jovially. He was accustomed to Garsiv's difference in opinion when it came to leading soldiers. He hoped one day Garsiv could see that his way was not the only way. Dastan did not relax until he had returned to his tent. He removed the tunic he had quickly donned, feeling it drying against the blood.

"Your back-" Bis said with a hushed awe.

"Stitch it, bandage it, do whatever you want, but my armor will be on it at dawn-"

"My prince-" Bis started, using the term when he was worried about Dastan.

"-is still needed in battle. There will be time to rest later." Dastan had to lead his men. If not, then Garsiv would put his men in the rear, picking over those already dead. His men were better than that; they shouldn't deal with the refuse, which wouldn't give them self-respect.

Rest was hard to find, and Dastan didn't know if he became unconscious at some point or fallen into his exhaustion. When he awoke he noted Bis had stayed by him, sleeping sitting up by Dastan's pallet. Dastan moved his foot to awaken his man-at-arms.

Dastan was on his stomach and moved stiffly to not pull on his back any more than necessary. Bis didn't make to help him, watching Dastan struggle.

"You are being foolish."

Dastan finally had two feet on the ground, then got to his feet with a small bobble before righting himself. "I do not resemble your comment. I am the same Dastan you are quick to bet on."

"With your money."

"Not always," Dastan replied, washing his face. It was still dark, but movement could be sensed in the camp on the dawn of battle. Bis had set his leather armor on the bed. He eyed it suspiciously.

Bis held out the vest. "You need help getting into the armor."

"No-Yes." Dastan admitted defeat. He would go into battle, but with help. He mounted his horse with no one but Bis knowing there was anything amiss.

TBC