Prince of Persia, Dastan & Bis vs. guards
Prince of Persia, Dastan & Bis vs. guards
catch me if you can
Long after there is any reason for them to do it, not for survival, not for the challenge, nor for revenge; there is this, that Dastan wakes with cold sweats and shivers, and tells no one why. Bis alone keeps silent vigil on these nights, which seem darker and and the glitter of stars seem like demon eyes.
On those nights, Dastan will cradle his hand and marvel at it, as if he dares not believe what his eyes tell him.
"It's real, it's real, it's alright." Bis will croon until dawn marks a new day.
A thief, once caught, will trade blood and bone and flesh for what they do not own; it matters not at all if it is fruit or something fine and fancy. Dastan and Bis raised themselves on the streets, to the laws of them. A part of Dastan will always see palace walls as a prison, a part of him will whisper that these people will tear him apart, cut him limb from limb - for he will never be good enough, nor great or noble enough for the likes of these things he has stolen.
He stole himself a life, not a good life - a great life; and the debt of it weighs upon him heavily. It is something King Sharaman will never understand, that Dastan sees his life as stolen, not as a gift to be given.
The old rules, Bis knows, do not apply to this stolen gift of a second life. Dastan only needs reminding.
Dastan looks to the dawn for a long while, and Bis knows he is weighing and measuring all the deeds done; and finding them wanting. He will always find them wanting, no matter what he has done, for as King Sharaman knows, he is a great man for all his poor birth.
"I do think they grow fat and lazy, my Prince." Bis knows if he lets Dastan, he will scale the hours of the day away. He pretends instead that he sees the balcony that is within Dastan's sight, and the guard, slumped and sleeping.
Dastan's lips curl into something not quite a smile.
"What have you in mind?" Dastan lives up to his name meaning, and that is trickster.
"A kidnapping...?" Bis muses solemn faced. Dastan nods eagerly.
"My own or one of my unfortunate brothers?" Bis tilts his head, doing his own inner balancing.
"Why, I could steal away all three Princes of Persia with such poor guards as that one..." Dastan is smiling now, and Bis can not help but smile back.
"All three!" Dastan sighs and shakes his head, but he takes Bis's offered hand. His Prince will always follow him willingly, Bis knows as he leads him though shadows and stone passageways and a maze of garden green.
"Whatever are you going to do now?" Dastan asks, yawning and stretching under the morning sun. His skin glistens golden with it, and Bis allows himself a moment to admire it.
"Reinforcements, but of course." Bis whistles, and while Dastan has learned fine and courtly things - Bis has not, would not. Street urchin and outcasts pour out to stand side by side with Bis, soldiers looking sinister and striking. Well they should, being Dastan's own guard, Bis's secret defense against the guards that shield nobles from reality until it is far too late. Dastan raises his brows at this uneasy sight, but does not question Bis, his loyalty unwavering.
Bis makes a gesture, and the crowd of them huddle around Dastan making it impossible to escape, for he is thick in the middle of misfits and mercenary. They lead him along until they come across a market square - and then Dastan makes a attempt to escape, as any kidnapped captive would.
They run to and fro about and above the market until someone recognizes Dastan...
"Prince Dastan - they are after a prince of Persia!"
And then they catch him like a lost lamb and shepherd him into side streets and shadows. Dastan's eyes meet Bis's own, and they glisten with the rush of a hunt.
Bis keeps Dastan company, sending his gang back to palace: they are to await for word to reach the royal family (as it would not be sporting or fair if they were not aware and wary) and then take Garsiv before he surrounds himself with the Army, and take Tus in the confusion of his younger brothers being stolen away.
Garsiv doesn't like being gagged and likes being blindfolded less; so when he arrives tied to a ass; Bis lets Dastan greet his brother as is proper.
Garsiv is freed while struggling and swinging, until he has Dastan's throat under his hand, and the blindfold in the other. To give him credit, Garsiv lets go as if Dastan's skin scorches him.
"Dastan! What matter of meeting is this?" Suspicion is so thick in Garsiv's tone, Bis is surprised he did not drown in it on the way here.
"A, uh," Dastan looks to Bis and frowns, "circumstance of celebration." Garsiv is not convinced so Bis steps in hastily.
"A kidnapping, of sorts, to get away from the gilt and gift of palace and princes." Garsiv sighs, for he knows now that neither he nor his brother are in any danger.
"Father will be worried sick." Garsiv warns against this before giving in and drinking the wine which Dastan offers.
"We will send him a guard, gift-wrapped." Bis trades glances with one of his men in the shadows, and with a nod he knows that order will be followed out. It isn't a bad idea, even if Dastan meant it jokingly. Bis isn't one to let a good idea go to waste.
"What of my soldiers?" Garsiv glances to Bis, who shrugs.
"Oh, they are being kept busy enough, won't even miss you until your returned." In fact, as some of his own riffraff had spread the word among their comrades in the Army, the Princes were not-so-secretly but secretly taking a day away, and did not want to be found; so would not be looked for very closely.
Strange things were the norm when the brother princes took to holiday.
Tus arrived promptly at noon, weaponless and tied to his stallion, which faithfully (and hopefully) trotted behind a herd of mares; his scowl a secret knowing smirk.
"In on it?" Dastan asks, with a look to Bis.
"My dear Dastan, the Crown Prince of Persia knows his brother better then you think. You would never get caught in a market unless you meant to be." Tus is untied and let loose from his horse, and they feast until dusk.
"So what of the score to be settled?" Dastan asks of Bis as they slip back into his rooms (Tus and Garsiv had gone to dine with King Sharaman as if nothing had ever been amiss).
"Well, of course, we win. The guards never even guessed to get close." Bis doesn't mind bragging when it is deserved.
"Oh?" Dastan muses, and when Bis looks to see why he had taken a odd tone, they see guards toasting their return - having had a holiday of their own in Dastan's now very cluttered and crowded rooms.
"You realize your cleaning this up Bis?" Dastan's tone isn't to be argued against, so Bis only sighs agreement.
The guards, evidently feeling their point had been made (and seeing to it Bis was properly punished for his part) leave very jolly indeed. Maybe, Bis thinks, they are not so stupid as being fat and lazy may otherwise imply.
catch me if you can
Long after there is any reason for them to do it, not for survival, not for the challenge, nor for revenge; there is this, that Dastan wakes with cold sweats and shivers, and tells no one why. Bis alone keeps silent vigil on these nights, which seem darker and and the glitter of stars seem like demon eyes.
On those nights, Dastan will cradle his hand and marvel at it, as if he dares not believe what his eyes tell him.
"It's real, it's real, it's alright." Bis will croon until dawn marks a new day.
A thief, once caught, will trade blood and bone and flesh for what they do not own; it matters not at all if it is fruit or something fine and fancy. Dastan and Bis raised themselves on the streets, to the laws of them. A part of Dastan will always see palace walls as a prison, a part of him will whisper that these people will tear him apart, cut him limb from limb - for he will never be good enough, nor great or noble enough for the likes of these things he has stolen.
He stole himself a life, not a good life - a great life; and the debt of it weighs upon him heavily. It is something King Sharaman will never understand, that Dastan sees his life as stolen, not as a gift to be given.
The old rules, Bis knows, do not apply to this stolen gift of a second life. Dastan only needs reminding.
Dastan looks to the dawn for a long while, and Bis knows he is weighing and measuring all the deeds done; and finding them wanting. He will always find them wanting, no matter what he has done, for as King Sharaman knows, he is a great man for all his poor birth.
"I do think they grow fat and lazy, my Prince." Bis knows if he lets Dastan, he will scale the hours of the day away. He pretends instead that he sees the balcony that is within Dastan's sight, and the guard, slumped and sleeping.
Dastan's lips curl into something not quite a smile.
"What have you in mind?" Dastan lives up to his name meaning, and that is trickster.
"A kidnapping...?" Bis muses solemn faced. Dastan nods eagerly.
"My own or one of my unfortunate brothers?" Bis tilts his head, doing his own inner balancing.
"Why, I could steal away all three Princes of Persia with such poor guards as that one..." Dastan is smiling now, and Bis can not help but smile back.
"All three!" Dastan sighs and shakes his head, but he takes Bis's offered hand. His Prince will always follow him willingly, Bis knows as he leads him though shadows and stone passageways and a maze of garden green.
"Whatever are you going to do now?" Dastan asks, yawning and stretching under the morning sun. His skin glistens golden with it, and Bis allows himself a moment to admire it.
"Reinforcements, but of course." Bis whistles, and while Dastan has learned fine and courtly things - Bis has not, would not. Street urchin and outcasts pour out to stand side by side with Bis, soldiers looking sinister and striking. Well they should, being Dastan's own guard, Bis's secret defense against the guards that shield nobles from reality until it is far too late. Dastan raises his brows at this uneasy sight, but does not question Bis, his loyalty unwavering.
Bis makes a gesture, and the crowd of them huddle around Dastan making it impossible to escape, for he is thick in the middle of misfits and mercenary. They lead him along until they come across a market square - and then Dastan makes a attempt to escape, as any kidnapped captive would.
They run to and fro about and above the market until someone recognizes Dastan...
"Prince Dastan - they are after a prince of Persia!"
And then they catch him like a lost lamb and shepherd him into side streets and shadows. Dastan's eyes meet Bis's own, and they glisten with the rush of a hunt.
Bis keeps Dastan company, sending his gang back to palace: they are to await for word to reach the royal family (as it would not be sporting or fair if they were not aware and wary) and then take Garsiv before he surrounds himself with the Army, and take Tus in the confusion of his younger brothers being stolen away.
Garsiv doesn't like being gagged and likes being blindfolded less; so when he arrives tied to a ass; Bis lets Dastan greet his brother as is proper.
Garsiv is freed while struggling and swinging, until he has Dastan's throat under his hand, and the blindfold in the other. To give him credit, Garsiv lets go as if Dastan's skin scorches him.
"Dastan! What matter of meeting is this?" Suspicion is so thick in Garsiv's tone, Bis is surprised he did not drown in it on the way here.
"A, uh," Dastan looks to Bis and frowns, "circumstance of celebration." Garsiv is not convinced so Bis steps in hastily.
"A kidnapping, of sorts, to get away from the gilt and gift of palace and princes." Garsiv sighs, for he knows now that neither he nor his brother are in any danger.
"Father will be worried sick." Garsiv warns against this before giving in and drinking the wine which Dastan offers.
"We will send him a guard, gift-wrapped." Bis trades glances with one of his men in the shadows, and with a nod he knows that order will be followed out. It isn't a bad idea, even if Dastan meant it jokingly. Bis isn't one to let a good idea go to waste.
"What of my soldiers?" Garsiv glances to Bis, who shrugs.
"Oh, they are being kept busy enough, won't even miss you until your returned." In fact, as some of his own riffraff had spread the word among their comrades in the Army, the Princes were not-so-secretly but secretly taking a day away, and did not want to be found; so would not be looked for very closely.
Strange things were the norm when the brother princes took to holiday.
Tus arrived promptly at noon, weaponless and tied to his stallion, which faithfully (and hopefully) trotted behind a herd of mares; his scowl a secret knowing smirk.
"In on it?" Dastan asks, with a look to Bis.
"My dear Dastan, the Crown Prince of Persia knows his brother better then you think. You would never get caught in a market unless you meant to be." Tus is untied and let loose from his horse, and they feast until dusk.
"So what of the score to be settled?" Dastan asks of Bis as they slip back into his rooms (Tus and Garsiv had gone to dine with King Sharaman as if nothing had ever been amiss).
"Well, of course, we win. The guards never even guessed to get close." Bis doesn't mind bragging when it is deserved.
"Oh?" Dastan muses, and when Bis looks to see why he had taken a odd tone, they see guards toasting their return - having had a holiday of their own in Dastan's now very cluttered and crowded rooms.
"You realize your cleaning this up Bis?" Dastan's tone isn't to be argued against, so Bis only sighs agreement.
The guards, evidently feeling their point had been made (and seeing to it Bis was properly punished for his part) leave very jolly indeed. Maybe, Bis thinks, they are not so stupid as being fat and lazy may otherwise imply.