Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dastan, prince of Persia, lay on his back watching the morning light slowly break into the room. She lay by his side, still asleep. He considered her: quiet (for a change), hair somewhat mussed from sleep (and other activities), but in sleep her face was smooth and calm, free of pain. You might say serene. How different she had looked in that other future, when so much was at stake and the price of success and failure both was her own life. he stroked her hair and she shifted, moving closer to him. She was the same in so many ways, and yet different. It was both strange to know her again in a different way, and wonderful to get the chance to do it all over again, only the right way, this time.

Well. There was no question that this future was vastly superior to that other one. They were married now, and now he could help to protect her, and her responsibility. His uncle was no longer a threat, though the hassassins were still a concern, and he knew they knew of the dagger. He knew someday that he would have to tell her the story; he still felt the fear that she would not believe him, or would feel betrayed... he knew the fire in her would be as untempered as that first time she had suggested he kiss her, and then tried to kill him. He knew he would have to build her trust, just as they had in that other story, only over a longer time and under less duress. One hoped less duress, anyway.

He knew that the dagger was not safe, and neither was she, while the hassassins knew of its existence - and he knew she would want to know this. But it was a terrible risk to tell her before she knew him. And to be fair, he didn't really know her yet, as well. The princess he had known had fallen in the sands of time. This princess would not be far off, but it would be a different story. He looked up again at the light, spreading across the ceiling in the high room that was now theirs. Though the morning light made the entire ceiling creamy and warm, brighter flecks were dancing across it. There would be time. He hoped, fervently, that there would be time.

He looked back down. Tamina's eyes were open, and she said, "Well, prince, do you regret it?" Yes, it was teasing, but there was a hard edge inside the question. Funny how she could say such things, and could mean almost anything. Regret returning the dagger to her? Regret his second chance at all this? "Regret what?" he asked, smiling, and cautious. "Marrying," she answered, but he guessed that she knew he knew more than he had let on, and that she was still testing him. Fine, that isn't so different than how it was. "Never for a moment," he answered, reaching out to caress her cheek. She accepted that gesture and answer graciously and gladly enough, turning on her back, now looking at the play of light on the ceiling. Dastan suddenly realized that the dancing lights were reflecting from a fountain outside the window.

"I wondered," she said. "You slept ill last night, tossing and turning and muttering. I wondered if the typical male response to commitment was to blame," she said sardonically. Dastan felt a small stab of worry. He had been dreaming of that other future; many nights since he had been given a second chance he had dreamt of it. He did not remember which of the horrors he had been reliving; the death of his father, or his brothers, or hers. But what if he had talked in his sleep? It was important that she not think he was keeping things from her. But a clever response was needed, of course. "Well, princess, I will battle all who would harm you - even my own demons." A little true, actually. She smirked at him, and he could feel that the hard edge was gone, for the moment.

He added, "Shall we go and meet the day ahead?" She nodded, and began to get up, but something in her eyes reminded him again of that other her, and he grabbed her, held her back, and kissed her. She was startled, but he said, "I am very grateful that you were willing to accept my proposal." She was unsure now, but said "Well, I hadn't much choice, had I? You had just conquered my city, if you recall." Then, more kindly, "and you presented yourself very well to me. Sometimes when we ask nicely good things happen." He laughed, and they stood. He offered his hand to her, and, taking it, she led him out of the bedroom and out to be ready for the day.