Thanks to FigureSkater for the prompt - not quite what you meant, but this is the first thing that came to mind. If anyone else has ideas for Uncle Garsiv and Amira, let me know.

"You cannot be serious."

Of course they weren't. The heir to the Alamutian throne, and heir to the Guardians' covenant. Their only child. Left with the Commander of Persia's armies? A man who has no children of his own, no family, and whose lack of patience was legendary.

No. They wouldn't be so cruel.

"It's only for a few days," Tamina said, trying to placate him.

Garsiv scoffed. "It takes weeks to reach Nasaf!"

"Weeks then," Dastan said, shrugging. His younger brother tried valiantly not to smirk. He failed. "Who's counting?"

"I am! Or will be, after a day and night with that little hellion."

Tamina's brow snapped together. "Watch your tongue, Persian. That's my daughter you're talking about."

He heard the soft scuff of a footstep that no one else seemed to. Eyes darting to the heavy brocades colouring one stretch of wall, Garsiv sighed and shifted, beginning to circle the room. "And what of her penchant for mischief? Am I to punish her?"

"She will be well behaved, I assure you."

"You truly think you can assure me that?" The drapes shifted slightly, an elbow-shaped bulge protruding at around his knee height. He was almost upon her.

"Of course," Dastan smiled impishly. "She knows not to disobey her mother."

Garsiv chuckled. "Is that so? And where is the little scamp now?"

Tamina's look of exasperation was not lost on him. "In her quarters. We said our goodbyes and put her to bed before seeking you out."

The girl had these two wrapped around her little finger. "In her quarters? Really?"

Tamina sighed. "Yes, of course."

"Then how do you explain—" Garsiv dug a hand into a gap in the cloth, dragging out a squirming young child "—this?"

Her tumble of dark hair was lightened with dust and tangled from hiding against the stone walls. Her dress, which probably started the day white and clean, was scuffed and wrinkled from her antics.

The look of betrayal she shot him was quickly gone when she looked upon her parents with remorse.

"I'm sorry Mama, Papa," little Amira said, her head bowed. "I only wanted to see you again before you left."

Garsiv snorted at the lie. The little wretch just wanted to stay up.

After much fussing from Tamina and promises of gifts from Dastan, eventually Garsiv managed to get them out of the palace doors. Standing on the steps to watch their horses depart, letting Amira wave frantically, Garsiv steeled himself to endure the coming weeks.

Arms crossed, he looked down at the little girl, who copied his stance on the step above him.

"You realise, little Princess, that as residing Prince in your Kingdom, and therefore your guest, that you are required to bend to my will?"

Scrunching up her nose in distaste, she shook her head. "I'll tell Papa you were nasty to me."

Garsiv sighed. "That's what I thought."

Amira smiled at him. "This is going to be fun, isn't it Uncle Garsiv?"

"Yes, fun. That is exactly the word I was thinking ..."