fic: jewel of alamut (prince of persia, dastan/tamina, rated: r)
Title: Jewel of Alamut
Rating: R for shameless PWP
Character(s): Tamina/Dastan, Prince of Persia (2010)
Spoilers: set extremely post-movie because I am a crazy person
Summary: "So I should weaken my city for nine months while I’m bedridden to save my courageous husband, the legendary Lion of Persia, from his family’s deadly mocking? Dastan, your priorities are, as usual, completely unreasonable."
Word Count: 3,000
AN: belatedly written for dastan_tamina
"C’mon, 'Mina." Dastan’s voice took on a wheedling tone as he ran his hands up her sides. He began to nibble on her neck invitingly, hoping to weaken her objections with his teeth.
"The emissary of Avrat is still in there, we can’t just leave!"
"He’s too drunk to remember his own name, he’ll never notice. Besides, I thought you wanted me to take you to bed."
"We talked about this."
"Lovely, my father pesters me with every new letter for grandchildren. My brothers already doubt me."
"So I should weaken my city for nine months while I’m bedridden to save my courageous husband, the legendary Lion of Persia, from his family’s deadly mocking? Dastan, your priorities are, as usual, completely unreasonable."
"Don’t you want to see what our child would be like? Your beauty, passion and fire! Coupled with my-"
"Recklessness? Total lack of respect for authority? Stubbornness?"
"I was going to say charm."
"Any son of yours would be far too troublesome-"
"So you’ve decided that we’re having a boy, now?"
"Gods help us if he’s anything like his father."
He nuzzled her neck and face, brushing her nose with his. "You adore me."
"Which is only proof that I’ve had too much to drink."
"So, you’re serious? You’re ready?"
"It may just be that I’ve stayed out in the heat too long today, but I have warmed to certain parts of your plan."
"Told you I was charming." He can't help the smile that takes over his face.
"Shut up and kiss me."
She did always tell him that he took orders well.
---
For all the complaints Tamina may make to the council, Dastan isn’t actually insane. Sure, he has absurd memories of three days that never happened that’d make a pretty fantastical story if he were to tell it, but over all he’s a pretty sane guy.
Or so he thought, until he started hearing voices.
Dastan has a short list of things he never tells his wife. It mostly consists of whenever he sneaks out of the temple complex to drink and gamble on games of chance (although the way she seems to be deliberately louder the next morning to punish his pounding head makes him suspect that she always knows). The list has now widened to include the faint whispers of voices that pierce his soul.
He’ll be entertaining children in Alamut's market by juggling a few pomegranates, enjoying how their faces light up, and the giggle of one will unexpectedly bowl him over with emotion. Other times, he’ll be practising his swordplay or working on the reconstruction of the East Gate and a young child’s joyous yell will startle him out of his concentration.
He never speaks to Tamina about these phantom voices; she already has enough ammunition when it comes to teasing him.
---
For the few years of their marriage, Tamina had joined him in bed whenever she could but she refused to sacrifice her duties as High Priestess. To Dastan, it felt like her presence was constantly needed in those blasted midnight ceremonies and if he acted like a grumpy child denied his toy when she finally returned, he believed that he could hardly be faulted.
However, now that they were actively trying to have a baby, Dastan saw her every night and couldn’t be happier. Sure, he had to endure an awkward conversation with Tamina’s herbalist - a foul-smelling, wrinkled old woman who shoved dried leaves in his face - but it was worth it. Tamina would talk about the placement of the moon in the heavens or how the alignment of the planets was a sign of fertility and he’d dumbly nod in mute agreement before dragging off her clothes with enthusiasm.
He’d always loved pressing her body down into the mattress beneath them, watching her face as she came undone. That is, until the old crone told him about different positions that would help them reach success. He hadn’t even been aware of half the things this ancient woman was telling him, but it opens up a whole new world to explore with Tamina. It was one of the best afternoons of his life.
Sometimes he uses his fingers to make her beg. She scrunches up her face at him, angry that he’s withholding what she’s so close to grasping.
She grumbles against him, hips moving too fast to help and a high whine escapes from the back of her throat.
"Tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you, just tell me."
She stubbornly twists her head to the side and tries to extricate herself from where she’s trapped beneath his weight.
"Say it, Tamina." He growls.
"All of you. I want all of you."
His eyes drink in the flush of her skin and his willpower starts to fade against the feeling of her breasts pushing up against him with every twitch of his wrist and he knows he has to hurry up or he’ll be the one begging.
She buries her head into his neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses up to his ear where she blows a quiet word into his ear.
"Now."
He can hardly ignore the command of his regent and shifts their bodies to comply. She whimpers at the lost of contact when he pulls his hand away.
He shoves her up higher on their bed, her head resting against the elaborate headboard before repositioning himself over her. He pushes away one of her fancy beaded pillows just as she moans before digging her heels into him, urging him to move.
She places her newly-freed hand between his shoulder blades, pulling him closer while her nails lightly trace the movement of his muscles. She braces herself up against him, lifting her leg around his waist higher, letting him sink deep into her.
She smiles once he’s given in to her, grunting as he guides her to her climax. She’s always been good at getting what she wants.
---
"That went well, don’t you think? I didn’t think your council would be pleased. I thought they wanted you pure for as long as possible so you could easily divorce me or move on if I died young."
"Actually, they’ve been pushing for an heir since the honeymoon."
"Are you sure? Because Asoka keeps asking me when I’ll leave on another dangerous campaign with low chance of survival." He chuckles as he brings her hand up to his lips for a chaste kiss.
"Shush, he’s just protective."
He comes up to hug her from behind when she stops, his hands automatically going to rest on her stomach.
"Did you feel something?"
"Too soon for that. Probably something I ate."
He runs his hand over her slightly rounded stomach possessively, suddenly absurdly proud that he did this; that her body would be getting big and swollen with his baby.
He’d never cared much for his Father’s stuffy religion, or Tamina’s intricate one but he’s thinking that he could see something in the fascination old tribes had with the Earth Mother. Fertility ceremonies are a tradition long forgotten to the past, even farmers abandoning their crops to the unfeeling weather instead of a deity and Dastan thinks it’s a shame, since the statues were so beautiful.
The stone idols had been worn smooth with obvious care, making the breasts and stomach large and round. The expression of the idol was always serene and secretive with a knowledge no one else could rival.
All Dastan can think of is what Tamina would look like when she’s full with his child. He imagines her chin held high as she surveys her city with an otherworldly grace and composure. She would be elegant as an almost-mother, her body glowing with the world’s oldest magic and the new life within her.
---
Ever since the morning sickness passed, Tamina likes being on top where she can set the pace and rub her hands all over her body. They travel down from her nipples to the spot where their bodies are joined. She bucks frantically against her fingers until all her muscles tense up. Then she falls boneless on top of him, pushing the air out of his chest. He loves looking up at her when she’s like that, full of power and determined to get what she wants.
He had been warned by the herbalist that due to fluctuating hormones, Tamina might not always seem like her usual self. He was already used to her quick temper and mercurial moods, but he did not expect the change her pregnancy would have on her desires.
At first, he felt frustrated when his training sessions were interrupted. He’d jog to their room while running his hand angrily running through his slick-sweat hair. Then he saw the way she bit her bottom lip and he knew why she’s called him away. Miraculously, all his frustration seems to evaporate away.
He’s half-exhausted from the morning drills until he sees the way her eager eyes roam over his bare chest and arms. The lust in her expression is so alluring, she’s lucky that he doesn’t pick her up to throw over his shoulder, carrying her back to bed so he can have his way with her.
It’s just like how it was in the beginning when she looks up at him with her dark eyes sparkling like this. Years may have passed, but he still feels that slow burn from his gut spread out, brimming to the surface despite the already stifling dry heat. Half the time he’s ready to begin before they can make it back to their bed chambers just by the knowledge of how much she wants him.
Sometimes he likes when she fights with him, her temper flaring up to challenge him, but on days like this he loves knowing how pliable she’ll be in bed, how relaxed her body will be when he lays her out, limbs sprawled for him alone. She’ll be wet from more than just the heat and she’ll wantonly gasp for his kiss or the touch of his fingers rough against her.
He lies on his side next to her, thrusting into her from behind as his palm rubs her belly. He moves his hand up her smooth skin to cup her breasts and pull her back into him a bit, groaning at the sensation.
"You feel so good."
He can’t see her grimace, just the way she shakes her head. "I feel like a sacrificial cow."
He moves his fingers down her stomach to tangle between her legs. "You’re beautiful. Let me show you."
---
Dastan has always been aware of just how crucial a small force of highly trained soldiers could be. Numbers didn’t necessarily win every battle and since he knew that recruitment rates to the Palace Guards were generally low in holy cities, he’d have to make do with the men he’d been given.
About half of the men he’d led into countless battles remained with him in Alamut and then he cherry-picked the best men from random squadrons. It earned him an afternoon of complaints of ruined schedules, but he figured the ministers would approve once he’d be able to defend the city against future attack.
The elite squadron under his control was only ten dozen men strong, but he hoped to have each man so perfectly trained that he was a killing machine on his own, and especially deadly in a group of his peers.
The first obstacle was to remove any hesitancy or doubt. Dastan needed his men to work as one concentrated wave crashing into the enemy, to devastating effect. Every man must know the mind of his comrade and be willing to protect him until death. When he was sure that they could complete any drill in complete silence and synchronization, he felt one worry that had plagued him since his arrival fall away.
Of course, the long hours and close quarters meant that Dastan learned all their names and faces. He knew the names and faces of their families and loved ones. He could tell you stories he’d heard from their childhood as the oil lamps burned low. His dedication to the job and their city earned the men’s respect and eventually love. Each would easily sacrifice their life to protect their Captain.
Unfortunately, this meant that when overpowered and captured by superior numbers, Dastan knew exactly how many people would be worried about the men under his command that had gone missing. He knew how vital their income was to the survival of their families and he knew the precise skills of each man abducted and what that said about the skill of the attackers.
It was with the faces of his men’s family members in mind when he first spoke of riding off in search of them. He didn’t want to leave her when she was confined to her rooms, her maids unable to hide her pregnancy any more with flowing robes, but he couldn’t forsake his men in good conscience. Tamina was two months from her due date and laughed off his concerns. She urged him off, understanding how close he had become with all the soldiers who followed his orders.
---
Dirty from his travels, Dastan pushed through the heavy doors to their room, not heeding the worried sounds of the servants that followed behind him. He breathed a sigh of relief to see her seated by the window, a bundle of fabric in her arms.
And if her welcome wasn’t as warm as he would have liked, he supposed he did deserve that. "Good to know that Dastan the Lion-Hearted was able to tear himself away from battle to meet his daughter. Though it is many weeks late."
He rushed forward, not carrying about the damage his boots made to the plush carpets. "What’s her name?"
She crinkled her nose as he stood over her, his face anxious. "Gods, did you even wash yourself?"
"I was in a bit of a hurry."
Tamina still looks reluctant to hand over her babe to a man covered in dirt, his bloodied sword still hanging from his belt.
"She’s going to forever associate you with sweat and blood." Her lips tighten into a stern line at the sight of him.
"Well, she won’t be far off then." He chuckles before leaning down to nuzzle his wife’s face, using the opportunity to sneak a glance at the newborn.
"She’s perfect." He whispered the words with reverence, in awe of the tiny fingers that clutched the folds tightly. He beams a wide smile at his wife. "Hopefully, she’ll grow up to be a diplomat like her wise mother."
"Hopefully." Tamina looked up at him from her chair, her face warm and loving. "I don’t think I could handle it if she grew up to be anything like you."
"What’s this?" He fingered a small golden brooch pinned to the soft linen, tiny jewels sparkling brightly.
"Nothing." But she had ducked her head, hiding her expression.
It looked like it was made in Persepolis, the craftsmanship too fine to be made locally.
"Tamina, is this---?"
There’s no quaver in her voice, but the words come out fast. "It seemed fit to remind her that she is a Princess of both Alamut and Persia. Even if her Persian father was not here during the birth."
He leaned over to rest his chin on the top of her head, both of them looking out the window. "I’m sorry."
She reached up to stroke his arm, happy to have him home. He bent down, careful not to jostle the baby in her arms as he places a kiss against her skin.
---
She stretches against him, limbs lazy with sleep. Their daughter slumbers quietly in the corner. She strokes her fingers along his arm, face pressed into his shoulder. "The tales have started up again."
He winces. That didn’t take long; he’s only been home for a fortnight. "I wish they’d keep their stories to themselves."
She props herself up on one arm, the linens falling to her waist. "They say that you liberated the men that had been captured and imprisoned in Mazandaran singlehandedly. You sound quite valiant." She smiles into his skin, breathes in his scent. She only allows herself the weakness of wanting him like this when they are alone together. She must believe herself in control.
"It was nothing. I just have a knack for slipping into cities unnoticed." He wants to make this light, doesn’t want to think about it any longer than necessary. He doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to revisit those months lost in the desert.
"Don’t sell yourself short; you were able to slink into many sacred temples as well, over the years." She grins up at him and his eyes crinkle with a matching smile.
He quirks an eyebrow at her. "Yet there was one particular bedroom I could not breach for months."
"You managed to sneak into my heart easily enough." She hates that her voice has gone breathy, but his hand has moved up from her stomach to her collarbone.
"Trust me, compared with your bed, this place was effortless." He moves to her pulse, hoping to distract her with his tongue.
However, she will not be put off and she turns her face from his. She stares at the cradle in the corner and she knows that she cannot relent. "They speak of the dangers on the hero’s journey; lions and serpents and sand-blindness." Her voice is quieter now, the realities of his absence sinking in.
Ever the stubborn man, Dastan attempts one more time for flippancy. "Were you scared, my Princess?" He shapes his words to sound scandalous but his heart is not in it. He can see the worry on her face.
Gently, he pulls her chin back. "Hey, look at me. All I could think of was coming back to my girls."
"Promise that you’ll always come back to us?"
"Promise."
She sighs against him, reassured if only for a little while.
"I want to make it up to you." He slides closer to her in the half-light of dawn, stealing a kiss from her lips. He noses at her throat, breathing in the scent of her skin before moving his mouth down.
She arches against him and moans weakly before pushing him back, her face a laughably bad impression of stern determination.
"Dastan, I told you. No more children. At least not for awhile"
"I know, I'm just going to hold you in my arms until I fall asleep." She doesn't trust the innocent face he paints on for a second but nods anyway, pulling his arm around her before settling on her side comfortably. They only have a few hours until their servants will come knocking.
He tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear before whispering softly to her.
"Flattery won't help your case."
"Can't a man compliment his wife?" She sends him a swift elbow to the ribs but the effort he's putting into making his face not look guilty has her laughing.
Dastan continues to argue that he's merely holding her close for warmth and with his attentions, Tamina never is able to fall back to sleep. Somehow, she doesn't seem to mind despite sleep being a precious commodity with a newborn.
---
Nine months later Dastan and Tamina welcome another baby girl.
(like what you see? watch this comm!)
Rating: R for shameless PWP
Character(s): Tamina/Dastan, Prince of Persia (2010)
Spoilers: set extremely post-movie because I am a crazy person
Summary: "So I should weaken my city for nine months while I’m bedridden to save my courageous husband, the legendary Lion of Persia, from his family’s deadly mocking? Dastan, your priorities are, as usual, completely unreasonable."
Word Count: 3,000
AN: belatedly written for dastan_tamina
"C’mon, 'Mina." Dastan’s voice took on a wheedling tone as he ran his hands up her sides. He began to nibble on her neck invitingly, hoping to weaken her objections with his teeth.
"The emissary of Avrat is still in there, we can’t just leave!"
"He’s too drunk to remember his own name, he’ll never notice. Besides, I thought you wanted me to take you to bed."
"We talked about this."
"Lovely, my father pesters me with every new letter for grandchildren. My brothers already doubt me."
"So I should weaken my city for nine months while I’m bedridden to save my courageous husband, the legendary Lion of Persia, from his family’s deadly mocking? Dastan, your priorities are, as usual, completely unreasonable."
"Don’t you want to see what our child would be like? Your beauty, passion and fire! Coupled with my-"
"Recklessness? Total lack of respect for authority? Stubbornness?"
"I was going to say charm."
"Any son of yours would be far too troublesome-"
"So you’ve decided that we’re having a boy, now?"
"Gods help us if he’s anything like his father."
He nuzzled her neck and face, brushing her nose with his. "You adore me."
"Which is only proof that I’ve had too much to drink."
"So, you’re serious? You’re ready?"
"It may just be that I’ve stayed out in the heat too long today, but I have warmed to certain parts of your plan."
"Told you I was charming." He can't help the smile that takes over his face.
"Shut up and kiss me."
She did always tell him that he took orders well.
---
For all the complaints Tamina may make to the council, Dastan isn’t actually insane. Sure, he has absurd memories of three days that never happened that’d make a pretty fantastical story if he were to tell it, but over all he’s a pretty sane guy.
Or so he thought, until he started hearing voices.
Dastan has a short list of things he never tells his wife. It mostly consists of whenever he sneaks out of the temple complex to drink and gamble on games of chance (although the way she seems to be deliberately louder the next morning to punish his pounding head makes him suspect that she always knows). The list has now widened to include the faint whispers of voices that pierce his soul.
He’ll be entertaining children in Alamut's market by juggling a few pomegranates, enjoying how their faces light up, and the giggle of one will unexpectedly bowl him over with emotion. Other times, he’ll be practising his swordplay or working on the reconstruction of the East Gate and a young child’s joyous yell will startle him out of his concentration.
He never speaks to Tamina about these phantom voices; she already has enough ammunition when it comes to teasing him.
---
For the few years of their marriage, Tamina had joined him in bed whenever she could but she refused to sacrifice her duties as High Priestess. To Dastan, it felt like her presence was constantly needed in those blasted midnight ceremonies and if he acted like a grumpy child denied his toy when she finally returned, he believed that he could hardly be faulted.
However, now that they were actively trying to have a baby, Dastan saw her every night and couldn’t be happier. Sure, he had to endure an awkward conversation with Tamina’s herbalist - a foul-smelling, wrinkled old woman who shoved dried leaves in his face - but it was worth it. Tamina would talk about the placement of the moon in the heavens or how the alignment of the planets was a sign of fertility and he’d dumbly nod in mute agreement before dragging off her clothes with enthusiasm.
He’d always loved pressing her body down into the mattress beneath them, watching her face as she came undone. That is, until the old crone told him about different positions that would help them reach success. He hadn’t even been aware of half the things this ancient woman was telling him, but it opens up a whole new world to explore with Tamina. It was one of the best afternoons of his life.
Sometimes he uses his fingers to make her beg. She scrunches up her face at him, angry that he’s withholding what she’s so close to grasping.
She grumbles against him, hips moving too fast to help and a high whine escapes from the back of her throat.
"Tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you, just tell me."
She stubbornly twists her head to the side and tries to extricate herself from where she’s trapped beneath his weight.
"Say it, Tamina." He growls.
"All of you. I want all of you."
His eyes drink in the flush of her skin and his willpower starts to fade against the feeling of her breasts pushing up against him with every twitch of his wrist and he knows he has to hurry up or he’ll be the one begging.
She buries her head into his neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses up to his ear where she blows a quiet word into his ear.
"Now."
He can hardly ignore the command of his regent and shifts their bodies to comply. She whimpers at the lost of contact when he pulls his hand away.
He shoves her up higher on their bed, her head resting against the elaborate headboard before repositioning himself over her. He pushes away one of her fancy beaded pillows just as she moans before digging her heels into him, urging him to move.
She places her newly-freed hand between his shoulder blades, pulling him closer while her nails lightly trace the movement of his muscles. She braces herself up against him, lifting her leg around his waist higher, letting him sink deep into her.
She smiles once he’s given in to her, grunting as he guides her to her climax. She’s always been good at getting what she wants.
---
"That went well, don’t you think? I didn’t think your council would be pleased. I thought they wanted you pure for as long as possible so you could easily divorce me or move on if I died young."
"Actually, they’ve been pushing for an heir since the honeymoon."
"Are you sure? Because Asoka keeps asking me when I’ll leave on another dangerous campaign with low chance of survival." He chuckles as he brings her hand up to his lips for a chaste kiss.
"Shush, he’s just protective."
He comes up to hug her from behind when she stops, his hands automatically going to rest on her stomach.
"Did you feel something?"
"Too soon for that. Probably something I ate."
He runs his hand over her slightly rounded stomach possessively, suddenly absurdly proud that he did this; that her body would be getting big and swollen with his baby.
He’d never cared much for his Father’s stuffy religion, or Tamina’s intricate one but he’s thinking that he could see something in the fascination old tribes had with the Earth Mother. Fertility ceremonies are a tradition long forgotten to the past, even farmers abandoning their crops to the unfeeling weather instead of a deity and Dastan thinks it’s a shame, since the statues were so beautiful.
The stone idols had been worn smooth with obvious care, making the breasts and stomach large and round. The expression of the idol was always serene and secretive with a knowledge no one else could rival.
All Dastan can think of is what Tamina would look like when she’s full with his child. He imagines her chin held high as she surveys her city with an otherworldly grace and composure. She would be elegant as an almost-mother, her body glowing with the world’s oldest magic and the new life within her.
---
Ever since the morning sickness passed, Tamina likes being on top where she can set the pace and rub her hands all over her body. They travel down from her nipples to the spot where their bodies are joined. She bucks frantically against her fingers until all her muscles tense up. Then she falls boneless on top of him, pushing the air out of his chest. He loves looking up at her when she’s like that, full of power and determined to get what she wants.
He had been warned by the herbalist that due to fluctuating hormones, Tamina might not always seem like her usual self. He was already used to her quick temper and mercurial moods, but he did not expect the change her pregnancy would have on her desires.
At first, he felt frustrated when his training sessions were interrupted. He’d jog to their room while running his hand angrily running through his slick-sweat hair. Then he saw the way she bit her bottom lip and he knew why she’s called him away. Miraculously, all his frustration seems to evaporate away.
He’s half-exhausted from the morning drills until he sees the way her eager eyes roam over his bare chest and arms. The lust in her expression is so alluring, she’s lucky that he doesn’t pick her up to throw over his shoulder, carrying her back to bed so he can have his way with her.
It’s just like how it was in the beginning when she looks up at him with her dark eyes sparkling like this. Years may have passed, but he still feels that slow burn from his gut spread out, brimming to the surface despite the already stifling dry heat. Half the time he’s ready to begin before they can make it back to their bed chambers just by the knowledge of how much she wants him.
Sometimes he likes when she fights with him, her temper flaring up to challenge him, but on days like this he loves knowing how pliable she’ll be in bed, how relaxed her body will be when he lays her out, limbs sprawled for him alone. She’ll be wet from more than just the heat and she’ll wantonly gasp for his kiss or the touch of his fingers rough against her.
He lies on his side next to her, thrusting into her from behind as his palm rubs her belly. He moves his hand up her smooth skin to cup her breasts and pull her back into him a bit, groaning at the sensation.
"You feel so good."
He can’t see her grimace, just the way she shakes her head. "I feel like a sacrificial cow."
He moves his fingers down her stomach to tangle between her legs. "You’re beautiful. Let me show you."
---
Dastan has always been aware of just how crucial a small force of highly trained soldiers could be. Numbers didn’t necessarily win every battle and since he knew that recruitment rates to the Palace Guards were generally low in holy cities, he’d have to make do with the men he’d been given.
About half of the men he’d led into countless battles remained with him in Alamut and then he cherry-picked the best men from random squadrons. It earned him an afternoon of complaints of ruined schedules, but he figured the ministers would approve once he’d be able to defend the city against future attack.
The elite squadron under his control was only ten dozen men strong, but he hoped to have each man so perfectly trained that he was a killing machine on his own, and especially deadly in a group of his peers.
The first obstacle was to remove any hesitancy or doubt. Dastan needed his men to work as one concentrated wave crashing into the enemy, to devastating effect. Every man must know the mind of his comrade and be willing to protect him until death. When he was sure that they could complete any drill in complete silence and synchronization, he felt one worry that had plagued him since his arrival fall away.
Of course, the long hours and close quarters meant that Dastan learned all their names and faces. He knew the names and faces of their families and loved ones. He could tell you stories he’d heard from their childhood as the oil lamps burned low. His dedication to the job and their city earned the men’s respect and eventually love. Each would easily sacrifice their life to protect their Captain.
Unfortunately, this meant that when overpowered and captured by superior numbers, Dastan knew exactly how many people would be worried about the men under his command that had gone missing. He knew how vital their income was to the survival of their families and he knew the precise skills of each man abducted and what that said about the skill of the attackers.
It was with the faces of his men’s family members in mind when he first spoke of riding off in search of them. He didn’t want to leave her when she was confined to her rooms, her maids unable to hide her pregnancy any more with flowing robes, but he couldn’t forsake his men in good conscience. Tamina was two months from her due date and laughed off his concerns. She urged him off, understanding how close he had become with all the soldiers who followed his orders.
---
Dirty from his travels, Dastan pushed through the heavy doors to their room, not heeding the worried sounds of the servants that followed behind him. He breathed a sigh of relief to see her seated by the window, a bundle of fabric in her arms.
And if her welcome wasn’t as warm as he would have liked, he supposed he did deserve that. "Good to know that Dastan the Lion-Hearted was able to tear himself away from battle to meet his daughter. Though it is many weeks late."
He rushed forward, not carrying about the damage his boots made to the plush carpets. "What’s her name?"
She crinkled her nose as he stood over her, his face anxious. "Gods, did you even wash yourself?"
"I was in a bit of a hurry."
Tamina still looks reluctant to hand over her babe to a man covered in dirt, his bloodied sword still hanging from his belt.
"She’s going to forever associate you with sweat and blood." Her lips tighten into a stern line at the sight of him.
"Well, she won’t be far off then." He chuckles before leaning down to nuzzle his wife’s face, using the opportunity to sneak a glance at the newborn.
"She’s perfect." He whispered the words with reverence, in awe of the tiny fingers that clutched the folds tightly. He beams a wide smile at his wife. "Hopefully, she’ll grow up to be a diplomat like her wise mother."
"Hopefully." Tamina looked up at him from her chair, her face warm and loving. "I don’t think I could handle it if she grew up to be anything like you."
"What’s this?" He fingered a small golden brooch pinned to the soft linen, tiny jewels sparkling brightly.
"Nothing." But she had ducked her head, hiding her expression.
It looked like it was made in Persepolis, the craftsmanship too fine to be made locally.
"Tamina, is this---?"
There’s no quaver in her voice, but the words come out fast. "It seemed fit to remind her that she is a Princess of both Alamut and Persia. Even if her Persian father was not here during the birth."
He leaned over to rest his chin on the top of her head, both of them looking out the window. "I’m sorry."
She reached up to stroke his arm, happy to have him home. He bent down, careful not to jostle the baby in her arms as he places a kiss against her skin.
---
She stretches against him, limbs lazy with sleep. Their daughter slumbers quietly in the corner. She strokes her fingers along his arm, face pressed into his shoulder. "The tales have started up again."
He winces. That didn’t take long; he’s only been home for a fortnight. "I wish they’d keep their stories to themselves."
She props herself up on one arm, the linens falling to her waist. "They say that you liberated the men that had been captured and imprisoned in Mazandaran singlehandedly. You sound quite valiant." She smiles into his skin, breathes in his scent. She only allows herself the weakness of wanting him like this when they are alone together. She must believe herself in control.
"It was nothing. I just have a knack for slipping into cities unnoticed." He wants to make this light, doesn’t want to think about it any longer than necessary. He doesn’t know if he’s strong enough to revisit those months lost in the desert.
"Don’t sell yourself short; you were able to slink into many sacred temples as well, over the years." She grins up at him and his eyes crinkle with a matching smile.
He quirks an eyebrow at her. "Yet there was one particular bedroom I could not breach for months."
"You managed to sneak into my heart easily enough." She hates that her voice has gone breathy, but his hand has moved up from her stomach to her collarbone.
"Trust me, compared with your bed, this place was effortless." He moves to her pulse, hoping to distract her with his tongue.
However, she will not be put off and she turns her face from his. She stares at the cradle in the corner and she knows that she cannot relent. "They speak of the dangers on the hero’s journey; lions and serpents and sand-blindness." Her voice is quieter now, the realities of his absence sinking in.
Ever the stubborn man, Dastan attempts one more time for flippancy. "Were you scared, my Princess?" He shapes his words to sound scandalous but his heart is not in it. He can see the worry on her face.
Gently, he pulls her chin back. "Hey, look at me. All I could think of was coming back to my girls."
"Promise that you’ll always come back to us?"
"Promise."
She sighs against him, reassured if only for a little while.
"I want to make it up to you." He slides closer to her in the half-light of dawn, stealing a kiss from her lips. He noses at her throat, breathing in the scent of her skin before moving his mouth down.
She arches against him and moans weakly before pushing him back, her face a laughably bad impression of stern determination.
"Dastan, I told you. No more children. At least not for awhile"
"I know, I'm just going to hold you in my arms until I fall asleep." She doesn't trust the innocent face he paints on for a second but nods anyway, pulling his arm around her before settling on her side comfortably. They only have a few hours until their servants will come knocking.
He tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear before whispering softly to her.
"Flattery won't help your case."
"Can't a man compliment his wife?" She sends him a swift elbow to the ribs but the effort he's putting into making his face not look guilty has her laughing.
Dastan continues to argue that he's merely holding her close for warmth and with his attentions, Tamina never is able to fall back to sleep. Somehow, she doesn't seem to mind despite sleep being a precious commodity with a newborn.
---
Nine months later Dastan and Tamina welcome another baby girl.
(like what you see? watch this comm!)