Fic: Arabian Nights - Ch. 5
Title: Arabian Nights
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Mohinder/Gabriel
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The story of a prince, a watchmaker, and the magical lamp that changed their lives.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Aladdin.
Warnings: Humor, Slash, AU, Language
Prologue| Chapter 1| Chapter 2| Chapter 3| Chapter 4
Gabriel frowned, staring up at the balcony several feet above him. He never would have guessed that it would be this hard to make a prince fall in love with him, although he probably should have been prepared for that. He had the parade, he had the outfit, he even had the Sultan's enthusiastic approval, yet Prince Mohinder was still giving him the cold shoulder.
"Why won't he talk to me?" he lamented.
"Because you're down here and he's up there. Duh!"
Gabriel glared over at Elle, who was currently using her "phenomenal cosmic powers" to float above him and study her nails in the moonlight. "Funny," he muttered. "But you know what I mean."
Elle tsked, floating back down to the ground and materializing legs. He found it funny that the genie could change her shape at will, yet she chose to stay so petite and unintimidating. "Well, gee Gabe, what man wouldn't be charmed by his prospective suitor bragging to his daddy about how he can 'win him' without any problems?"
He hoped it was dark enough that Elle wouldn't be able to see the way his pale cheeks shifted to a bright red in response to her statement. That was a stupid thing to say, but he was being confident, and confident was what Mohinder wanted, right? "Well what am I supposed to do?"
"You could try being honest," she said. "Mohinder seems like a smart guy, I'm sure he'll understand-"
"Are you kidding!" he snapped, too frustrated to bother being meek and embarrassed. "Where was this advice when you were turning every single dead leaf and twig into some elaborate prop for my parade?"
"Well you needed something to grab the Sultan's attention! Just showing up and asking for his son's hand in marriage wouldn't have went over well. But that was the Sultan. I can tell Mohinder's different. He wants more substance, more depth."
"He wants a prince," Gabriel sighed, pulling off his turban and adjusting his hair. "He deserves a prince. And if I were to tell him that I'm just some poor orphaned watchmaker he'd laugh in my face."
Elle sighed, taking a step closer to him and pressing her small hand against his cheek. "Gabe, all jokes aside, you really should be yourself. You don't need to be Prince Sylar to impress Mohinder. He'll like you just fine the way you are."
Gabriel huffed, stuffing his turban back on over his head. What did genies know about romance anyway? "Nobody liked Gabriel before," he groused, as Carpet wafted over to his side, sensing that he wanted to go, "why would a prince be any different?"
He could practically feel the displeased gaze in Elle's sharp blue eyes following him as he climbed onto Carpet and flew up to Mohinder's balcony. He didn't know how, but he could hear the genie evaporate into magical smoke and creep back into the lamp safely tucked away underneath his turban. That didn't matter of course. What did matter was that he had to put on the right facade to impress Prince Mohinder.
Confident, he told himself. Confident and charming.
When they reached the rail of Mohinder's balcony, Gabriel suddenly felt sick. He wanted to go back down to the ground and have Elle berate him some more, but he knew that that ship had sailed. He was already here, so now he had to be princely and charming.
"Prince Mohinder?" he called out, hating how timid and weak his voice sounded.
He saw Mohinder's outline moving around from just behind the sheer curtains. It made his heart hammer and his palms sweat. "Who's there?" the prince's cultured voice asked. There was a hint of nervous fear to his words and Gabriel couldn't really blame him. After all, as far as Mohinder knew, he had just appeared on his balcony by magic and that was an unnerving thought.
"It's me," he began, and then stopped himself. That didn't sound like the tone of voice a charming, confident prince would use. "It is I, Prince Sylar," he announced, making sure that his voice came out proud and booming.
"Go away!" Mohinder snapped. "I do not want to talk to you!"
"Wait, Prince Mo-" His words were cut short when the prince's pet Bengal tiger came prowling out from behind the curtains, teeth bared and claws ready. Gabriel felt his blood run cold as he found himself backing up towards the railing, the beast following him step for step and snarling protectively. "Down kitty," he whispered, hoping his voice sounded calm as he crawled on top of the railing. "Take off and go."
It did nothing to stop the tiger from growling and baring its massive, man eating teeth at him.
"Nirand, stop that." Gabriel was relieved when Mohinder finally emerged from behind the curtains, an amused smile on his face as he wrapped his arms around the jungle cat's neck, effectively reining it in. "Don't kill him on my balcony," he said, practically cooing the words as if he weren't talking to a fully grown, agitated tiger.
It was the first time Gabriel had really gotten a good look at Mohinder since their first meeting in his shop and despite the danger he was currently in, the young man had to marvel at how stunning the prince looked in his regal clothing. Of course, even the rags he had worn in his commoner's disguise had done nothing to hide his beauty, but the young prince looked positively breath taking in his shimmering blue and gold trimmed garments, especially the sapphire cloak that draped over his shoulders, but hang open, revealing his well toned chest.
Mohinder peeled his eyes away from the animal just long enough to pin his frosty stare on Gabriel's still nervous form. His eyes widened and then narrowed as he looked at Gabriel, studying him carefully and suddenly the watchmaker felt himself grow cold. "Do I... know you?" the prince asked carefully taking a step away from Nirand to get a better look at Gabriel.
The young man bowed his head, his heart hammering in his ears. He should have known that Mohinder was far too clever not to see through his disguise. Yet he couldn't let the other boy figure out who he really was. If he did, then the sultan would find out. And if the sultan found out that he had broken out of jail and disguised himself as a prince, then everything would be ruined and no amount of magic would be able to repair the situation.
"N-no, your majesty," he stammered, willing his voice to stay calm and even. The more he stuttered, the guiltier he would look. "This is the first time we've met... properly."
Mohinder frowned, not at all convinced. Nirand stepped between them, acting as a barrier between the two youths, as he nuzzled Mohinder's hand with the tip of his nose. Gabriel suddenly had to wonder if Nirand were a tiger or an overgrown house cat. The prince sighed, dutifully scratching behind the tiger's ear, eliciting a pleasant purr from the stripped beast's lips. "It's just," he began haltingly. "You remind me of someone I met... in the marketplace."
"Your highness, this is my first visit into your great land," Gabriel told him smoothly. "I doubt we would have encountered each other before, much less in the marketplace with commoners."
The words caused a bitter scowl to settle onto the royal's features. He looked... hurt, disappointed, and disgusted all at once. Gabriel suddenly wished that he could stop putting his foot in his mouth around the other boy, but he never would have guessed that someone like himself could have had an impact on a prince.
"How did you get up here, anyway?" Mohinder asked after a while.
"Uh... I flew?" he said. Elle did say to be honest. This was honest, right?
"You flew?" he repeated, disbelief lighting his tone.
Gabriel twisted around, waving to the carpet floating a foot below them. Carpet saw the gesture -- how the carpet saw anything he would never know -- and came drifting up as if on a breeze right in front of him. He crawled on to the rug and watched as Mohinder's eyes widened, sparkling with curiosity.
"It's a magic carpet," Gabriel announced and instantly regretted it. As if the prince hadn't already figured that out for himself.
"That's... extraordinary," the prince breathed, reaching out a tentative hand to inspect the rug. Carpet reached out with its tassel and grasped the prince's hand, curving its fabric around the offered appendage in what to Gabriel's eyes looked like a kiss. The sight caused his face to burn bright red at the gesture. "Charming," Mohinder chuckled, pulling his hand away.
That's when it hit him, the perfect way to get the prince to warm up to him. Back at his shop, when Mohinder had been disguised as a commoner and Gabriel had been foolish enough to entertain the idea that such a beauty would be interested in him, Prince Mohinder had spoken of a desire to escape, to go out and see far off places.
His watchmaker's instincts would have him breaking out into a panicked sweat, but Gabriel forced himself to be cool, confident Prince Sylar and ask, "Would you like to go for a ride?"
The prince looked hesitant, studying the carpet with a curious eye. "Is it safe?" he asked, bending over slightly to look underneath the rug only to see empty air.
"It's perfectly safe," he assured him, reaching out with what he hoped was a dry hand and offering it to the young man. "Do you trust me?"
Mohinder's eyes snapped towards him then, a strange gleam shining behind his clear brown orbs and Gabriel didn't know if he had said something right or wrong. "What?" Mohinder breathed, his face still an unreadable mask.
"Do you trust me?" he repeated, hoping the prince didn't leave him hanging for too long.
Mohinder smiled, placing his hand firmly in his. There was a twinkle in his eyes as if he had just caught Gabriel in an inescapable trap, but he pushed the thought away. Nothing was wrong; everything was perfect because Mohinder still thought he was Prince Sylar. "Yes," Mohinder whispered, just as Gabriel pulled him up and onto the carpet.
The prince wobbled, unstable for a moment as he crawled on the rug, gripping Gabriel's shoulders for support. For some reason, Carpet decided that this was the perfect time to take off, and maybe it was because the shock of the sudden movement forced Mohinder to hold onto him, pressing his chest against Gabriel's back. Gabriel smiled, glancing behind him to see the prince's face buried against his shoulder, his whole body trembling as he struggled to compose himself. After a while, Mohinder calmed, releasing Gabriel from his grasp and settling down next to him on the carpet. It wasn't as nice as having the prince pressed up against him and holding him with all his might, but the rug wasn't very wide, so the two had to sit pressed against each other to keep from falling off.
"This is amazing!" Mohinder breathed, peering over the edge of the rug to gaze at the twinkling world passing by just below them.
Gabriel smiled, taking a chance and grasping Mohinder's hand in his. If the prince noticed, he didn't seem to care, and Gabriel knew that this wish hadn't been a mistake after all.
-+-+-+-
Captain Matt Parkman scowled, his body tensing grimly as he listened to Thompson speak. He had worked for the man for several years, had been asked to do many unseemly tasks, performing them without question, but this, this was too much.
"Sir, are you seriously asking me and my men to kidnap and murder a visiting noble?" he asked once the man had finished his proposal, not bothering to hide the disgust in his voice. "I'm afraid I can't do that."
The vizier looked completely unfazed by his words. In fact, Matt would even go as far as to say he looked a bit amused as he sat in his chair, calmly leaning back and staring up at the captain of the royal guards. "Captain Parkman, I have reason to believe that this so called 'noble' has malicious intent for our fair prince. You wouldn't want dear Prince Mohinder to suffer because you're too afraid to do your own job, would you?"
He sneered, his hands balling into tight fists at his side. "First of all, sir," he began, knowing that he was threading on dangerous ground even as he spoke, "I am captain of the guards, not an assassin. Secondly, what if you're wrong? What if this boy is innocent and wants nothing more than to marry the prince? What then? I kill him and this entire country could go to war for no reason."
Thompson chuckled and not for the first time Matt wondered if the man knew more than what he was letting on. "I doubt that that will happen, Captain."
Matt sighed, rubbing the back of his neck wearily. Dealing with this man was sure to put him in an early grave. "I'm sorry, sir, but... I refuse."
The Captain fully expected a scowl, a sneer, a harsh word of reprimand from the royal vizier, but nothing came. Thompson merely shifted in his seat, nodding solemnly as he grabbed a stack of papers that had been resting on his desk and began shuffling them casually. "Of course, Parkman. I understand completely. I wouldn't want you to do anything that you felt was morally gray." It was then that the man's hands stilled, his eyes landing on something that brought a smile to his face. "Tell me, Parkman, how's your wife doing?"
Matt stilled, his blood running cold at the words. His throat tightened, closing up to the point where he couldn't even speak. Yet Thompson didn't give him a chance to.
"I hear you two are expecting a baby. Your first child at that. Gee, that would make this a terrible time to lose a job."
Captain Parkman sighed, his head hanging low. He had him.
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Gabriel couldn't remember ever feeling this happy, this content, before in his entire life. He sighed pleasantly as he sat purched comfortably on the roof top and gazed up at the night sky, watching the colorful display of dazzling lights and shapes. They had flown clear across the desert and straight to the orient in no time at all. Each new sight and sound had completely captivated Prince Mohinder, who had spent the entire trip smiling brightly with his hand nestled in Gabriel's palm. Even now their fingers were locked tightly together. It made the watchmaker feel so happy and complete, as if the entire world had been created just for them, just for this night.
He turned over to watch as the smaller man chuckled, his smile widening as one of the fireworks exploded into a bright red shape in the sky. Gabriel had to squint his eyes to see that it was a heart. His smile widened.
"Is something wrong?"
Gabriel blinked, turning towards Prince Mohinder who was giving him a worried look. "Uh, what?"
"You're squinting," Mohinder commented, resting a worried hand on his lap. "Is something wrong?"
"No, it's nothing," he said, rubbing at his eyes casually. "It's just... they bother me sometimes. It's nothing."
For a moment, Mohinder's hand loosened in his, and Gabriel thought for sure that something was wrong, but then the prince gave him an affectionate squeeze. "I see," he said casually, his gaze returning to the vibrant explosions in the sky. "It's such a wonderful sight, isn't it? Such a shame that Luke couldn't be here to see it."
Gabriel shrugged, waving a dismissive hand at the comment. "He doesn't really care for fireworks," he said, "or flying."
He felt the carpet tugging on his cape and suddenly it dawned on Gabriel just what he had said, what he had done. His face turned ash white as he turned towards Mohinder, whose face was a mask of indignation.
"You are the boy from the marketplace!" the prince snapped, snatching his turban -- and the lamp -- clean off his head. "I knew it! Why did you lie to me?"
Gabriel bowed his head, his black hair slipping into his face. A part of him wanted to cry, because he had just carelessly ruined everything. No. He couldn't give up now, he could still save himself. "I... I didn't want you to know," he stuttered, but that wasn't good enough.
"Didn't want me to know?" Mohinder huffed, throwing the turban back into his arms. Gabriel caught it, but he still couldn't find it in himself to meet the other boy's gaze. "What's that supposed to mean? Did you think I was stupid? Just a spoiled little prince too blinded by his lust for gold and attention to bother to notice the obvious?"
"No! I... that's not it at all."
"Then tell me the truth, right now!"
His mouth fell open, then closed as he searched for something, anything to say. He twisted around, turning towards Carpet, but the rug merely shrugged in response. "The truth," he began, thoughtfully, slowly. "The truth is... I sometimes dress as a commoner... to... to escape the pressures of palace life."
Mohinder stiffened, his frown more thoughtful than indignant. The lie had worked... almost. "Well... why didn't you just tell me?"
Gabriel frowned, searching his mind for a decent reply. "Well, it would seem kind of strange, wouldn't it? Royalty going out into the city in disguise?"
The prince blushed, looking down at their linked hands sheepishly, before dropping them. For a second, Gabriel felt certain that his life was over, but instead of yelling at him some more, Mohinder grabbed the turban and placed on top of Gabriel's head. "It's not that strange," he smiled, adjusting the turban before placing his head on the other boy's shoulder.
Gabriel felt his heart swell, too full of love and excitement to focus on anything but Mohinder's warmth and sweet smell. When the fireworks display was over, they hopped onto Carpet and flew home. They spoke for a while, but Mohinder soon fell quiet, choosing to rest peacefully at Gabriel's side instead of conversing. For a moment the watchmaker was afraid he had bored the prince, but when he looked down at the curly black head resting on his shoulder, he saw a peaceful smile gracing the other boy's dark features. He linked their hands together again and rested his cheek against Mohinder's curls.
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As far as Gabriel was concerned, they arrived back at the palace far too quickly. It was late, well past midnight, and both boys were exhausted, yet reluctant to part.
Mohinder smiled at him affectionately as he leaned on the railing of his balcony. "I'd invite you in, but I can't guarantee Nirand won't kill you."
Gabriel chuckled, knowing full and well that the prince was being completely serious. "Of course," he laughed, staring up at the other boy from just a few feet below, the carpet floating almost impatiently in the air. "What better way to guard the prince's virtue than with an overprotective jungle cat?" Prince Mohinder chuckled and it was like music to his ears. "Sleep well, Prince Mohinder."
"Just Mohinder, my dear Sylar."
His heart was pounding, steady and strong, and Gabriel wanted nothing more than to kiss the beautiful royal. As soon as the thought entered his head, he felt himself being lifted, just enough for his lips to press against Mohinder's. They both stiffened, shocked at first, but soon the two relaxed into the new sensation that felt so right. Stars exploded in front of his eyes and Gabriel felt so light and free that he was certain that if Carpet pulled out from under him, he'd still be floating where he stood.
There lips parted, reluctantly, gently, with a breathy sigh. Mohinder smiled at him, his dark fingers caressing his pale cheeks before he walked away.
Once the prince was completely out of sight, Gabriel felt his knees completely give out. He sighed, Carpet catching him before he could fall to his death and floating back towards the ground dreamily. Everything was so perfect and right that he suddenly felt as if he wouldn't need another wish.
They landed softly on the ground, the sky a blanket of twinkling stars just over head. "For the first time in my life, everything is going right."
As soon as the words left his lips he felt far too many hands grabbing him, pulling him away with bruising force. His heart was going wild, his eyes wide with fright as he watched the royal guards bind and gag him. He saw Captain Parkman, a pained, shameful look in his eyes, as he wrapped the enchanted carpet around a nearby tree. Looking just ahead, he saw that Luke had been tied down and chained to the ground.
His mind was reeling. He couldn't figure out what was going on. Could the guards have recognized him? Had he been discovered?
It was then that Thompson's dark, cruel form crept into view. He leaned closer, smiling down at the bound boy with vicious glee. "I'm afraid you've worn out your welcome, Prince Sylar," he sneered, before straightening himself and turning towards Captain Parkman. "Make sure he's never found."
"Yes, sir," Parkman whispered, guilt coloring his every word, his eyes fixed on the ground, too ashamed to even look at the vizier.
At that moment the world exploded into a flash of white pain before settling into darkness.
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Elle had to admit that she was more than a little peeved when the rub came at her lamp. It was far too late and she had hoped that Gabriel would understand that even mystical beings needed their sleep. "Listen, Gabe, I know you've got another wish coming, but can't it wait 'til morning?" she snapped, yet when she looked around, she couldn't find him.
The genie frowned, realizing for the first time that the world was far too cold and wet and this was all too strange, even for her. "Gabriel?" she called, bubbles escaping her lips with every word uttered.
As a mystical creature, she didn't need air, but if Gabriel was down here with her, then he was undoubtedly in trouble. Her light blue eyes looked around frantically, landing on nothing, but rocks and sand and...
... the sight of the limp body, weighed down by a ball and chain, floating lifelessly just a few feet away made Elle's metaphorical heart stop dead in her chest. Gabriel looked weak, his skin was practically blue, and the fact that his eyes were shut as if he were fast asleep didn't sit well with her.
She was at his side in a second, shaking him fiercely for some sort of reaction. "Gabriel! Wake up!"
Nothing.
Elle frowned, biting down on her lip nervously. As a friend, she wanted to grab the boy and take him to the surface, forcing life back into his body, but as a genie she was bound by the rules. Genies could not take part in the affairs of mortals unless given a direct command by their masters. Therefore, all she was supposed to do was sit back and watch. She had given Gabriel a free wish once, a fact that still made her a bit anxious, but to act now without a wish could result in dire consequences.
"Gabe, you can't cheat here! I can't help you unless you make a wish." The boy barely burbled and Elle knew that time was running out. "Alright Gabe, I need you to say 'Elle, I wish for you to save my life.' Come on Gabriel!"
She shook him, but Gabriel still remained silent. Yet his head bobbed, almost as if he had nodded in agreement. She'd take it. She would have to deduct a wish from Gabriel's total, but Elle was sure he would understand.
Wrapping her thin arms around the boy's waist, they rocketed out of the ocean and into the open air. She landed them on a nearby cliff and used a burst of blue electric sparks to break the chains around his ankles. Still Gabriel did not respond, so Elle turned him onto his side and patted him roughly on the back. Water came sputtering out of the boy's mouth. He gagged and coughed and Elle was so relieved she thought she might cry.
"Don't ever scare me like that again," Elle chided, fighting back the tears that were welling up in the back of her eyes. It was stupid. She had known Gabriel less than a day and already she was willing to risk everything for him. Then again, the boy was by far the nicest master she had ever had. People like him didn't usually go looking for magical lamps. He was one in a million.
Gabriel turned to her, taking in deep gulps of air as the color slowly returned to his face. "Elle..." he wheezed, wiping the water from his face. "I... Thank you."
The genie laughed, wrapping her arms around the boy and giving him a tight squeeze. "Don't sweat it, kid."
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Mohinder sighed, shrugging out of his cloak and draping it over the back of his chair -- a chair that, along with many other pieces of furniture, the servants had brought in earlier that day to replace what he had destroyed -- as he began to turn down the sheets of his bed. Nirand dutifully hopped up onto the soft cushion, just as he did every night, and Mohinder was too full of energy to resist the urge to wrap his arms around the tiger and bury his face into the cat's fur.
"Oh, Nirand," he swooned. "I don't think I've ever been this happy. I think I might be in love."
He couldn't imagine being happier. The boy he had met and made an instant connection with was alive. The prince had been beside himself when Thompson had told him that the boy was dead and the fact that the vizier had lied didn't surprise him at all. After all, this was the same man who would tell him when he was just a child that one day Nirand would eat him alive. It was also the same man who had Mohinder convinced for years that his mother had died because of him.
That didn't matter. What mattered was that the boy was alive and wonderful and a prince! Suddenly the prospect of marriage didn't seem so terrible. If Sylar were his husband then he wouldn't have to be alone. He could have someone who understood him, someone he could talk to, and someone who would actually love him.
The sound of his door swinging open didn't go unnoticed and made Mohinder's heart jump. No one visited his chamber during this late hour, yet he relaxed slightly when he realized that it was only his father. He looked down at his bare chest and feet and felt a bit embarrassed, but he pushed those thoughts aside. It was only his father after all.
"Mohinder?" His father's voice sounded strange, distant, as if he were trapped in a world of his own. Yet the prince was too elated to dwell on that thought.
"Father," he beamed crossing the cold marble floor to stand by his father's side, "I've just had the most wonderful night. I've never been so happy."
"That's good, Mohinder," Chandra continued, barely listening to what the prince had just told him, "because I have found a husband for you."
Mohinder frowned, taken aback by the older man's odd words. "What?"
"You will wed, Thompson."
The prince felt his heart constrict, threatening to shatter into a million pieces in his chest as his stomach turned into a solid brick of ice as the other door swung open, revealing the royal vizier standing by his father's side. For the first time in his young life, Mohinder actually found himself intimidated by the older man's condescending smirk and dark clothing, but that fear quickly evaporated in the face of pure, unadulterated anger as all the pieces fell into place.
"I knew it," he seethed, fists balling at his sides as he took several steps closer, glaring up at the other man. "I knew that this stupid 'marry a man' idea could only come from your twisted, forked tongue! And it was only a matter of time before you pulled something like this! Well your plan has failed because I will never marry you."
Thompson laughed, grabbing Mohinder's tensed left hand in his and holding it with insincere gentleness. "Sorry, Prince, but you don't have a choice in the matter," he mocked. "The sultan has already made his decision."
If at all possible the young man's frown deepened at those words. He huffed, yanking his hand away before turning his gaze back towards his father. It was a struggle to soften his features, but he managed it as he grabbed the older man's shoulders gently in his hands, begging him to see reason. "Father, please, I don't want to marry Thompson," he pleaded, never feeling quite as desperate as he did in that instant. "I've already chosen a husband. I choose Prince Sylar."
"Too late for that," the vizier put in. "Prince Sylar has already left."
For one horrifying moment, the prince believed him and he saw all of his hopes and dreams fly out the window. Yet the sound of his curtains fluttering and footsteps padding across the polished marble floor did not escape his ears. He turned around just in time to see Prince Sylar marching over towards the group.
"Unfortunately for you Thompson, that's not exactly true," the other Prince spat.
There was a vicious scowl marring Sylar's pale features and his dark brown eyes were flashing with an intensity that Mohinder had never seen before. It startled him, even as he placed his hand on the other boy's shoulder, noticing that his clothing was surprisingly cold and slightly damp. Now that he took a better look, he could see that Sylar's hair -- no longer hidden under his cumbersome turban, which was tucked into his belt, resting just at his hip -- was spiked and shiny, as if it was still in the process of drying off.
"Sylar?" he began carefully.
Yet the other prince barely registered him. Sylar merely reached out to give his hand a gentle squeeze as his intense eyes bore into Thompson's startled features. "Tell them the truth, Thompson," he seethed, taking a few steps closer to the vizier. "You tried to have me killed!"
Mohinder felt his blood boil. It was hard to imagine even the royal vizier being so incredibly underhanded as to attempt to assassinate visiting royalty.
Thompson flinched at the accusation as if he had been struck, but the man managed to recover himself quickly as his pale hand grasped the Sultan's shoulder. "You've got some imagination, kid," he chuckled, leaning his golden snake staff closer towards the sultan's gaze. "He's obviously lying, your majesty."
"Obviously lying," his father droned, his entire being blank and completely unaffected by what was going on around him.
The prince groaned, frustrated at his father's far too vacant expression as he grabbed the older man's shoulders and began to shake. There had never been a time when the man was this indifferent. The two of them had had trouble communicating in the past, but now it seemed as if the sultan were completely unable to hear him. "Father! What's wrong with you?"
From the corner of his eyes, Mohinder saw Sylar shove at Thompson. The gesture was so sudden, so startling, that he watched as the vizier actually let go of his staff -- the staff that he carried everywhere he went -- just long enough for Sylar to take it into his pale hands. Without any warning, the other prince raised the head of the staff into the air before bringing it back down to the ground, shattering the serpent head into little shards of gold.
There was a burst of red sparks as smoke plumed from the head of the shattered staff. The sultan blinked, groaning as he cradled his head in his hands and Mohinder felt his entire being relax as the dull, blank expression vanished from his father's features.
"Father? Are you alright?" he asked, placing a gentle hand at the man's side.
"What happened?" the sultan asked instead.
Sylar frowned, still holding the staff firmly in his hands as he stood at the sultan's side. "Your majesty, it seems that Thompson has been controlling you with this."
His father's face went slack for a moment, too startled to speak, but shock was quickly pushed aside in favor of anger as the sultan turned his indignant eyes towards his most trusted advisor. "Guards!" he barked.
Thompson seemed to have the presence of mind to actually look worried when the sound of hurried footfalls reached their ears. In an instant, the palace guards were at the man's side, grabbing his arms none too gently as he struggled in a vain attempt to get away. Yet somehow, the vizier managed to reach into the folds of his clothing and pulled out a small vile, which he sent crashing to the floor.
The glass shattered, a cloud of smoke engulfed the room, burning their lungs and eyes, and when they were able to see again, Thompson was gone.
Mohinder coughed, his throat feeling as if it were on fire. He barely heard his father barking orders at the guards as a pair of hands gently led him away from the slowly evaporating purple vapors. "Mohinder?" Sylar asked, stroking his bare arms gently. "Are you okay?"
The prince nodded, blinking away the water clouding his gaze and stinging his eyes. He heard Sylar sigh, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his cheek to his. Mohinder smiled pulling away just far enough so that he was now looking the boy in the eyes. He felt so much better now that the other prince was there.
"I can't believe this," he heard his father rant, his voice a distant echo as the prince waited for Sylar to work up the nerve to kiss him again. "My most trusted advisor, plotting against me! How could I not have seen this before? I... Mohinder?"
Mohinder flinched, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks as he took in his situation -- standing there, half naked, wrapped in another man's arms as his father stood staring. It was a bit awkward to say the very least. "Father," he began, wrapping his arms secularly around Sylar's shoulders, "you'll be happy to know that I have chosen a suitor. I wish to marry Prince Sylar."
The sultan blinked, gaping at the two in quiet shock, before a huge smile spread across his tan features as the prince's words slowly sank in. "This is... wonderful! Brilliant! I'm-"
"Delighted?" Sylar cut in teasingly.
Mohinder laughed, happily resting his head on the taller boy's shoulder as his father continued to gush and cheer and make plans.
"Yes, absolutely delighted!" the sultan continued. "I shall announce the engagement tomorrow and the two of you will be married right away. And then you, dear Sylar, will become sultan!"
"Sultan?" Sylar repeated, and Mohinder was far too elated to hear the slight hitch in the prince's voice or feel the way his shoulders seemed to slump.
Chapter 6 - Thompson's Hour
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Mohinder/Gabriel
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The story of a prince, a watchmaker, and the magical lamp that changed their lives.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Aladdin.
Warnings: Humor, Slash, AU, Language
Prologue| Chapter 1| Chapter 2| Chapter 3| Chapter 4
Gabriel frowned, staring up at the balcony several feet above him. He never would have guessed that it would be this hard to make a prince fall in love with him, although he probably should have been prepared for that. He had the parade, he had the outfit, he even had the Sultan's enthusiastic approval, yet Prince Mohinder was still giving him the cold shoulder.
"Why won't he talk to me?" he lamented.
"Because you're down here and he's up there. Duh!"
Gabriel glared over at Elle, who was currently using her "phenomenal cosmic powers" to float above him and study her nails in the moonlight. "Funny," he muttered. "But you know what I mean."
Elle tsked, floating back down to the ground and materializing legs. He found it funny that the genie could change her shape at will, yet she chose to stay so petite and unintimidating. "Well, gee Gabe, what man wouldn't be charmed by his prospective suitor bragging to his daddy about how he can 'win him' without any problems?"
He hoped it was dark enough that Elle wouldn't be able to see the way his pale cheeks shifted to a bright red in response to her statement. That was a stupid thing to say, but he was being confident, and confident was what Mohinder wanted, right? "Well what am I supposed to do?"
"You could try being honest," she said. "Mohinder seems like a smart guy, I'm sure he'll understand-"
"Are you kidding!" he snapped, too frustrated to bother being meek and embarrassed. "Where was this advice when you were turning every single dead leaf and twig into some elaborate prop for my parade?"
"Well you needed something to grab the Sultan's attention! Just showing up and asking for his son's hand in marriage wouldn't have went over well. But that was the Sultan. I can tell Mohinder's different. He wants more substance, more depth."
"He wants a prince," Gabriel sighed, pulling off his turban and adjusting his hair. "He deserves a prince. And if I were to tell him that I'm just some poor orphaned watchmaker he'd laugh in my face."
Elle sighed, taking a step closer to him and pressing her small hand against his cheek. "Gabe, all jokes aside, you really should be yourself. You don't need to be Prince Sylar to impress Mohinder. He'll like you just fine the way you are."
Gabriel huffed, stuffing his turban back on over his head. What did genies know about romance anyway? "Nobody liked Gabriel before," he groused, as Carpet wafted over to his side, sensing that he wanted to go, "why would a prince be any different?"
He could practically feel the displeased gaze in Elle's sharp blue eyes following him as he climbed onto Carpet and flew up to Mohinder's balcony. He didn't know how, but he could hear the genie evaporate into magical smoke and creep back into the lamp safely tucked away underneath his turban. That didn't matter of course. What did matter was that he had to put on the right facade to impress Prince Mohinder.
Confident, he told himself. Confident and charming.
When they reached the rail of Mohinder's balcony, Gabriel suddenly felt sick. He wanted to go back down to the ground and have Elle berate him some more, but he knew that that ship had sailed. He was already here, so now he had to be princely and charming.
"Prince Mohinder?" he called out, hating how timid and weak his voice sounded.
He saw Mohinder's outline moving around from just behind the sheer curtains. It made his heart hammer and his palms sweat. "Who's there?" the prince's cultured voice asked. There was a hint of nervous fear to his words and Gabriel couldn't really blame him. After all, as far as Mohinder knew, he had just appeared on his balcony by magic and that was an unnerving thought.
"It's me," he began, and then stopped himself. That didn't sound like the tone of voice a charming, confident prince would use. "It is I, Prince Sylar," he announced, making sure that his voice came out proud and booming.
"Go away!" Mohinder snapped. "I do not want to talk to you!"
"Wait, Prince Mo-" His words were cut short when the prince's pet Bengal tiger came prowling out from behind the curtains, teeth bared and claws ready. Gabriel felt his blood run cold as he found himself backing up towards the railing, the beast following him step for step and snarling protectively. "Down kitty," he whispered, hoping his voice sounded calm as he crawled on top of the railing. "Take off and go."
It did nothing to stop the tiger from growling and baring its massive, man eating teeth at him.
"Nirand, stop that." Gabriel was relieved when Mohinder finally emerged from behind the curtains, an amused smile on his face as he wrapped his arms around the jungle cat's neck, effectively reining it in. "Don't kill him on my balcony," he said, practically cooing the words as if he weren't talking to a fully grown, agitated tiger.
It was the first time Gabriel had really gotten a good look at Mohinder since their first meeting in his shop and despite the danger he was currently in, the young man had to marvel at how stunning the prince looked in his regal clothing. Of course, even the rags he had worn in his commoner's disguise had done nothing to hide his beauty, but the young prince looked positively breath taking in his shimmering blue and gold trimmed garments, especially the sapphire cloak that draped over his shoulders, but hang open, revealing his well toned chest.
Mohinder peeled his eyes away from the animal just long enough to pin his frosty stare on Gabriel's still nervous form. His eyes widened and then narrowed as he looked at Gabriel, studying him carefully and suddenly the watchmaker felt himself grow cold. "Do I... know you?" the prince asked carefully taking a step away from Nirand to get a better look at Gabriel.
The young man bowed his head, his heart hammering in his ears. He should have known that Mohinder was far too clever not to see through his disguise. Yet he couldn't let the other boy figure out who he really was. If he did, then the sultan would find out. And if the sultan found out that he had broken out of jail and disguised himself as a prince, then everything would be ruined and no amount of magic would be able to repair the situation.
"N-no, your majesty," he stammered, willing his voice to stay calm and even. The more he stuttered, the guiltier he would look. "This is the first time we've met... properly."
Mohinder frowned, not at all convinced. Nirand stepped between them, acting as a barrier between the two youths, as he nuzzled Mohinder's hand with the tip of his nose. Gabriel suddenly had to wonder if Nirand were a tiger or an overgrown house cat. The prince sighed, dutifully scratching behind the tiger's ear, eliciting a pleasant purr from the stripped beast's lips. "It's just," he began haltingly. "You remind me of someone I met... in the marketplace."
"Your highness, this is my first visit into your great land," Gabriel told him smoothly. "I doubt we would have encountered each other before, much less in the marketplace with commoners."
The words caused a bitter scowl to settle onto the royal's features. He looked... hurt, disappointed, and disgusted all at once. Gabriel suddenly wished that he could stop putting his foot in his mouth around the other boy, but he never would have guessed that someone like himself could have had an impact on a prince.
"How did you get up here, anyway?" Mohinder asked after a while.
"Uh... I flew?" he said. Elle did say to be honest. This was honest, right?
"You flew?" he repeated, disbelief lighting his tone.
Gabriel twisted around, waving to the carpet floating a foot below them. Carpet saw the gesture -- how the carpet saw anything he would never know -- and came drifting up as if on a breeze right in front of him. He crawled on to the rug and watched as Mohinder's eyes widened, sparkling with curiosity.
"It's a magic carpet," Gabriel announced and instantly regretted it. As if the prince hadn't already figured that out for himself.
"That's... extraordinary," the prince breathed, reaching out a tentative hand to inspect the rug. Carpet reached out with its tassel and grasped the prince's hand, curving its fabric around the offered appendage in what to Gabriel's eyes looked like a kiss. The sight caused his face to burn bright red at the gesture. "Charming," Mohinder chuckled, pulling his hand away.
That's when it hit him, the perfect way to get the prince to warm up to him. Back at his shop, when Mohinder had been disguised as a commoner and Gabriel had been foolish enough to entertain the idea that such a beauty would be interested in him, Prince Mohinder had spoken of a desire to escape, to go out and see far off places.
His watchmaker's instincts would have him breaking out into a panicked sweat, but Gabriel forced himself to be cool, confident Prince Sylar and ask, "Would you like to go for a ride?"
The prince looked hesitant, studying the carpet with a curious eye. "Is it safe?" he asked, bending over slightly to look underneath the rug only to see empty air.
"It's perfectly safe," he assured him, reaching out with what he hoped was a dry hand and offering it to the young man. "Do you trust me?"
Mohinder's eyes snapped towards him then, a strange gleam shining behind his clear brown orbs and Gabriel didn't know if he had said something right or wrong. "What?" Mohinder breathed, his face still an unreadable mask.
"Do you trust me?" he repeated, hoping the prince didn't leave him hanging for too long.
Mohinder smiled, placing his hand firmly in his. There was a twinkle in his eyes as if he had just caught Gabriel in an inescapable trap, but he pushed the thought away. Nothing was wrong; everything was perfect because Mohinder still thought he was Prince Sylar. "Yes," Mohinder whispered, just as Gabriel pulled him up and onto the carpet.
The prince wobbled, unstable for a moment as he crawled on the rug, gripping Gabriel's shoulders for support. For some reason, Carpet decided that this was the perfect time to take off, and maybe it was because the shock of the sudden movement forced Mohinder to hold onto him, pressing his chest against Gabriel's back. Gabriel smiled, glancing behind him to see the prince's face buried against his shoulder, his whole body trembling as he struggled to compose himself. After a while, Mohinder calmed, releasing Gabriel from his grasp and settling down next to him on the carpet. It wasn't as nice as having the prince pressed up against him and holding him with all his might, but the rug wasn't very wide, so the two had to sit pressed against each other to keep from falling off.
"This is amazing!" Mohinder breathed, peering over the edge of the rug to gaze at the twinkling world passing by just below them.
Gabriel smiled, taking a chance and grasping Mohinder's hand in his. If the prince noticed, he didn't seem to care, and Gabriel knew that this wish hadn't been a mistake after all.
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Captain Matt Parkman scowled, his body tensing grimly as he listened to Thompson speak. He had worked for the man for several years, had been asked to do many unseemly tasks, performing them without question, but this, this was too much.
"Sir, are you seriously asking me and my men to kidnap and murder a visiting noble?" he asked once the man had finished his proposal, not bothering to hide the disgust in his voice. "I'm afraid I can't do that."
The vizier looked completely unfazed by his words. In fact, Matt would even go as far as to say he looked a bit amused as he sat in his chair, calmly leaning back and staring up at the captain of the royal guards. "Captain Parkman, I have reason to believe that this so called 'noble' has malicious intent for our fair prince. You wouldn't want dear Prince Mohinder to suffer because you're too afraid to do your own job, would you?"
He sneered, his hands balling into tight fists at his side. "First of all, sir," he began, knowing that he was threading on dangerous ground even as he spoke, "I am captain of the guards, not an assassin. Secondly, what if you're wrong? What if this boy is innocent and wants nothing more than to marry the prince? What then? I kill him and this entire country could go to war for no reason."
Thompson chuckled and not for the first time Matt wondered if the man knew more than what he was letting on. "I doubt that that will happen, Captain."
Matt sighed, rubbing the back of his neck wearily. Dealing with this man was sure to put him in an early grave. "I'm sorry, sir, but... I refuse."
The Captain fully expected a scowl, a sneer, a harsh word of reprimand from the royal vizier, but nothing came. Thompson merely shifted in his seat, nodding solemnly as he grabbed a stack of papers that had been resting on his desk and began shuffling them casually. "Of course, Parkman. I understand completely. I wouldn't want you to do anything that you felt was morally gray." It was then that the man's hands stilled, his eyes landing on something that brought a smile to his face. "Tell me, Parkman, how's your wife doing?"
Matt stilled, his blood running cold at the words. His throat tightened, closing up to the point where he couldn't even speak. Yet Thompson didn't give him a chance to.
"I hear you two are expecting a baby. Your first child at that. Gee, that would make this a terrible time to lose a job."
Captain Parkman sighed, his head hanging low. He had him.
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Gabriel couldn't remember ever feeling this happy, this content, before in his entire life. He sighed pleasantly as he sat purched comfortably on the roof top and gazed up at the night sky, watching the colorful display of dazzling lights and shapes. They had flown clear across the desert and straight to the orient in no time at all. Each new sight and sound had completely captivated Prince Mohinder, who had spent the entire trip smiling brightly with his hand nestled in Gabriel's palm. Even now their fingers were locked tightly together. It made the watchmaker feel so happy and complete, as if the entire world had been created just for them, just for this night.
He turned over to watch as the smaller man chuckled, his smile widening as one of the fireworks exploded into a bright red shape in the sky. Gabriel had to squint his eyes to see that it was a heart. His smile widened.
"Is something wrong?"
Gabriel blinked, turning towards Prince Mohinder who was giving him a worried look. "Uh, what?"
"You're squinting," Mohinder commented, resting a worried hand on his lap. "Is something wrong?"
"No, it's nothing," he said, rubbing at his eyes casually. "It's just... they bother me sometimes. It's nothing."
For a moment, Mohinder's hand loosened in his, and Gabriel thought for sure that something was wrong, but then the prince gave him an affectionate squeeze. "I see," he said casually, his gaze returning to the vibrant explosions in the sky. "It's such a wonderful sight, isn't it? Such a shame that Luke couldn't be here to see it."
Gabriel shrugged, waving a dismissive hand at the comment. "He doesn't really care for fireworks," he said, "or flying."
He felt the carpet tugging on his cape and suddenly it dawned on Gabriel just what he had said, what he had done. His face turned ash white as he turned towards Mohinder, whose face was a mask of indignation.
"You are the boy from the marketplace!" the prince snapped, snatching his turban -- and the lamp -- clean off his head. "I knew it! Why did you lie to me?"
Gabriel bowed his head, his black hair slipping into his face. A part of him wanted to cry, because he had just carelessly ruined everything. No. He couldn't give up now, he could still save himself. "I... I didn't want you to know," he stuttered, but that wasn't good enough.
"Didn't want me to know?" Mohinder huffed, throwing the turban back into his arms. Gabriel caught it, but he still couldn't find it in himself to meet the other boy's gaze. "What's that supposed to mean? Did you think I was stupid? Just a spoiled little prince too blinded by his lust for gold and attention to bother to notice the obvious?"
"No! I... that's not it at all."
"Then tell me the truth, right now!"
His mouth fell open, then closed as he searched for something, anything to say. He twisted around, turning towards Carpet, but the rug merely shrugged in response. "The truth," he began, thoughtfully, slowly. "The truth is... I sometimes dress as a commoner... to... to escape the pressures of palace life."
Mohinder stiffened, his frown more thoughtful than indignant. The lie had worked... almost. "Well... why didn't you just tell me?"
Gabriel frowned, searching his mind for a decent reply. "Well, it would seem kind of strange, wouldn't it? Royalty going out into the city in disguise?"
The prince blushed, looking down at their linked hands sheepishly, before dropping them. For a second, Gabriel felt certain that his life was over, but instead of yelling at him some more, Mohinder grabbed the turban and placed on top of Gabriel's head. "It's not that strange," he smiled, adjusting the turban before placing his head on the other boy's shoulder.
Gabriel felt his heart swell, too full of love and excitement to focus on anything but Mohinder's warmth and sweet smell. When the fireworks display was over, they hopped onto Carpet and flew home. They spoke for a while, but Mohinder soon fell quiet, choosing to rest peacefully at Gabriel's side instead of conversing. For a moment the watchmaker was afraid he had bored the prince, but when he looked down at the curly black head resting on his shoulder, he saw a peaceful smile gracing the other boy's dark features. He linked their hands together again and rested his cheek against Mohinder's curls.
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As far as Gabriel was concerned, they arrived back at the palace far too quickly. It was late, well past midnight, and both boys were exhausted, yet reluctant to part.
Mohinder smiled at him affectionately as he leaned on the railing of his balcony. "I'd invite you in, but I can't guarantee Nirand won't kill you."
Gabriel chuckled, knowing full and well that the prince was being completely serious. "Of course," he laughed, staring up at the other boy from just a few feet below, the carpet floating almost impatiently in the air. "What better way to guard the prince's virtue than with an overprotective jungle cat?" Prince Mohinder chuckled and it was like music to his ears. "Sleep well, Prince Mohinder."
"Just Mohinder, my dear Sylar."
His heart was pounding, steady and strong, and Gabriel wanted nothing more than to kiss the beautiful royal. As soon as the thought entered his head, he felt himself being lifted, just enough for his lips to press against Mohinder's. They both stiffened, shocked at first, but soon the two relaxed into the new sensation that felt so right. Stars exploded in front of his eyes and Gabriel felt so light and free that he was certain that if Carpet pulled out from under him, he'd still be floating where he stood.
There lips parted, reluctantly, gently, with a breathy sigh. Mohinder smiled at him, his dark fingers caressing his pale cheeks before he walked away.
Once the prince was completely out of sight, Gabriel felt his knees completely give out. He sighed, Carpet catching him before he could fall to his death and floating back towards the ground dreamily. Everything was so perfect and right that he suddenly felt as if he wouldn't need another wish.
They landed softly on the ground, the sky a blanket of twinkling stars just over head. "For the first time in my life, everything is going right."
As soon as the words left his lips he felt far too many hands grabbing him, pulling him away with bruising force. His heart was going wild, his eyes wide with fright as he watched the royal guards bind and gag him. He saw Captain Parkman, a pained, shameful look in his eyes, as he wrapped the enchanted carpet around a nearby tree. Looking just ahead, he saw that Luke had been tied down and chained to the ground.
His mind was reeling. He couldn't figure out what was going on. Could the guards have recognized him? Had he been discovered?
It was then that Thompson's dark, cruel form crept into view. He leaned closer, smiling down at the bound boy with vicious glee. "I'm afraid you've worn out your welcome, Prince Sylar," he sneered, before straightening himself and turning towards Captain Parkman. "Make sure he's never found."
"Yes, sir," Parkman whispered, guilt coloring his every word, his eyes fixed on the ground, too ashamed to even look at the vizier.
At that moment the world exploded into a flash of white pain before settling into darkness.
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Elle had to admit that she was more than a little peeved when the rub came at her lamp. It was far too late and she had hoped that Gabriel would understand that even mystical beings needed their sleep. "Listen, Gabe, I know you've got another wish coming, but can't it wait 'til morning?" she snapped, yet when she looked around, she couldn't find him.
The genie frowned, realizing for the first time that the world was far too cold and wet and this was all too strange, even for her. "Gabriel?" she called, bubbles escaping her lips with every word uttered.
As a mystical creature, she didn't need air, but if Gabriel was down here with her, then he was undoubtedly in trouble. Her light blue eyes looked around frantically, landing on nothing, but rocks and sand and...
... the sight of the limp body, weighed down by a ball and chain, floating lifelessly just a few feet away made Elle's metaphorical heart stop dead in her chest. Gabriel looked weak, his skin was practically blue, and the fact that his eyes were shut as if he were fast asleep didn't sit well with her.
She was at his side in a second, shaking him fiercely for some sort of reaction. "Gabriel! Wake up!"
Nothing.
Elle frowned, biting down on her lip nervously. As a friend, she wanted to grab the boy and take him to the surface, forcing life back into his body, but as a genie she was bound by the rules. Genies could not take part in the affairs of mortals unless given a direct command by their masters. Therefore, all she was supposed to do was sit back and watch. She had given Gabriel a free wish once, a fact that still made her a bit anxious, but to act now without a wish could result in dire consequences.
"Gabe, you can't cheat here! I can't help you unless you make a wish." The boy barely burbled and Elle knew that time was running out. "Alright Gabe, I need you to say 'Elle, I wish for you to save my life.' Come on Gabriel!"
She shook him, but Gabriel still remained silent. Yet his head bobbed, almost as if he had nodded in agreement. She'd take it. She would have to deduct a wish from Gabriel's total, but Elle was sure he would understand.
Wrapping her thin arms around the boy's waist, they rocketed out of the ocean and into the open air. She landed them on a nearby cliff and used a burst of blue electric sparks to break the chains around his ankles. Still Gabriel did not respond, so Elle turned him onto his side and patted him roughly on the back. Water came sputtering out of the boy's mouth. He gagged and coughed and Elle was so relieved she thought she might cry.
"Don't ever scare me like that again," Elle chided, fighting back the tears that were welling up in the back of her eyes. It was stupid. She had known Gabriel less than a day and already she was willing to risk everything for him. Then again, the boy was by far the nicest master she had ever had. People like him didn't usually go looking for magical lamps. He was one in a million.
Gabriel turned to her, taking in deep gulps of air as the color slowly returned to his face. "Elle..." he wheezed, wiping the water from his face. "I... Thank you."
The genie laughed, wrapping her arms around the boy and giving him a tight squeeze. "Don't sweat it, kid."
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Mohinder sighed, shrugging out of his cloak and draping it over the back of his chair -- a chair that, along with many other pieces of furniture, the servants had brought in earlier that day to replace what he had destroyed -- as he began to turn down the sheets of his bed. Nirand dutifully hopped up onto the soft cushion, just as he did every night, and Mohinder was too full of energy to resist the urge to wrap his arms around the tiger and bury his face into the cat's fur.
"Oh, Nirand," he swooned. "I don't think I've ever been this happy. I think I might be in love."
He couldn't imagine being happier. The boy he had met and made an instant connection with was alive. The prince had been beside himself when Thompson had told him that the boy was dead and the fact that the vizier had lied didn't surprise him at all. After all, this was the same man who would tell him when he was just a child that one day Nirand would eat him alive. It was also the same man who had Mohinder convinced for years that his mother had died because of him.
That didn't matter. What mattered was that the boy was alive and wonderful and a prince! Suddenly the prospect of marriage didn't seem so terrible. If Sylar were his husband then he wouldn't have to be alone. He could have someone who understood him, someone he could talk to, and someone who would actually love him.
The sound of his door swinging open didn't go unnoticed and made Mohinder's heart jump. No one visited his chamber during this late hour, yet he relaxed slightly when he realized that it was only his father. He looked down at his bare chest and feet and felt a bit embarrassed, but he pushed those thoughts aside. It was only his father after all.
"Mohinder?" His father's voice sounded strange, distant, as if he were trapped in a world of his own. Yet the prince was too elated to dwell on that thought.
"Father," he beamed crossing the cold marble floor to stand by his father's side, "I've just had the most wonderful night. I've never been so happy."
"That's good, Mohinder," Chandra continued, barely listening to what the prince had just told him, "because I have found a husband for you."
Mohinder frowned, taken aback by the older man's odd words. "What?"
"You will wed, Thompson."
The prince felt his heart constrict, threatening to shatter into a million pieces in his chest as his stomach turned into a solid brick of ice as the other door swung open, revealing the royal vizier standing by his father's side. For the first time in his young life, Mohinder actually found himself intimidated by the older man's condescending smirk and dark clothing, but that fear quickly evaporated in the face of pure, unadulterated anger as all the pieces fell into place.
"I knew it," he seethed, fists balling at his sides as he took several steps closer, glaring up at the other man. "I knew that this stupid 'marry a man' idea could only come from your twisted, forked tongue! And it was only a matter of time before you pulled something like this! Well your plan has failed because I will never marry you."
Thompson laughed, grabbing Mohinder's tensed left hand in his and holding it with insincere gentleness. "Sorry, Prince, but you don't have a choice in the matter," he mocked. "The sultan has already made his decision."
If at all possible the young man's frown deepened at those words. He huffed, yanking his hand away before turning his gaze back towards his father. It was a struggle to soften his features, but he managed it as he grabbed the older man's shoulders gently in his hands, begging him to see reason. "Father, please, I don't want to marry Thompson," he pleaded, never feeling quite as desperate as he did in that instant. "I've already chosen a husband. I choose Prince Sylar."
"Too late for that," the vizier put in. "Prince Sylar has already left."
For one horrifying moment, the prince believed him and he saw all of his hopes and dreams fly out the window. Yet the sound of his curtains fluttering and footsteps padding across the polished marble floor did not escape his ears. He turned around just in time to see Prince Sylar marching over towards the group.
"Unfortunately for you Thompson, that's not exactly true," the other Prince spat.
There was a vicious scowl marring Sylar's pale features and his dark brown eyes were flashing with an intensity that Mohinder had never seen before. It startled him, even as he placed his hand on the other boy's shoulder, noticing that his clothing was surprisingly cold and slightly damp. Now that he took a better look, he could see that Sylar's hair -- no longer hidden under his cumbersome turban, which was tucked into his belt, resting just at his hip -- was spiked and shiny, as if it was still in the process of drying off.
"Sylar?" he began carefully.
Yet the other prince barely registered him. Sylar merely reached out to give his hand a gentle squeeze as his intense eyes bore into Thompson's startled features. "Tell them the truth, Thompson," he seethed, taking a few steps closer to the vizier. "You tried to have me killed!"
Mohinder felt his blood boil. It was hard to imagine even the royal vizier being so incredibly underhanded as to attempt to assassinate visiting royalty.
Thompson flinched at the accusation as if he had been struck, but the man managed to recover himself quickly as his pale hand grasped the Sultan's shoulder. "You've got some imagination, kid," he chuckled, leaning his golden snake staff closer towards the sultan's gaze. "He's obviously lying, your majesty."
"Obviously lying," his father droned, his entire being blank and completely unaffected by what was going on around him.
The prince groaned, frustrated at his father's far too vacant expression as he grabbed the older man's shoulders and began to shake. There had never been a time when the man was this indifferent. The two of them had had trouble communicating in the past, but now it seemed as if the sultan were completely unable to hear him. "Father! What's wrong with you?"
From the corner of his eyes, Mohinder saw Sylar shove at Thompson. The gesture was so sudden, so startling, that he watched as the vizier actually let go of his staff -- the staff that he carried everywhere he went -- just long enough for Sylar to take it into his pale hands. Without any warning, the other prince raised the head of the staff into the air before bringing it back down to the ground, shattering the serpent head into little shards of gold.
There was a burst of red sparks as smoke plumed from the head of the shattered staff. The sultan blinked, groaning as he cradled his head in his hands and Mohinder felt his entire being relax as the dull, blank expression vanished from his father's features.
"Father? Are you alright?" he asked, placing a gentle hand at the man's side.
"What happened?" the sultan asked instead.
Sylar frowned, still holding the staff firmly in his hands as he stood at the sultan's side. "Your majesty, it seems that Thompson has been controlling you with this."
His father's face went slack for a moment, too startled to speak, but shock was quickly pushed aside in favor of anger as the sultan turned his indignant eyes towards his most trusted advisor. "Guards!" he barked.
Thompson seemed to have the presence of mind to actually look worried when the sound of hurried footfalls reached their ears. In an instant, the palace guards were at the man's side, grabbing his arms none too gently as he struggled in a vain attempt to get away. Yet somehow, the vizier managed to reach into the folds of his clothing and pulled out a small vile, which he sent crashing to the floor.
The glass shattered, a cloud of smoke engulfed the room, burning their lungs and eyes, and when they were able to see again, Thompson was gone.
Mohinder coughed, his throat feeling as if it were on fire. He barely heard his father barking orders at the guards as a pair of hands gently led him away from the slowly evaporating purple vapors. "Mohinder?" Sylar asked, stroking his bare arms gently. "Are you okay?"
The prince nodded, blinking away the water clouding his gaze and stinging his eyes. He heard Sylar sigh, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his cheek to his. Mohinder smiled pulling away just far enough so that he was now looking the boy in the eyes. He felt so much better now that the other prince was there.
"I can't believe this," he heard his father rant, his voice a distant echo as the prince waited for Sylar to work up the nerve to kiss him again. "My most trusted advisor, plotting against me! How could I not have seen this before? I... Mohinder?"
Mohinder flinched, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks as he took in his situation -- standing there, half naked, wrapped in another man's arms as his father stood staring. It was a bit awkward to say the very least. "Father," he began, wrapping his arms secularly around Sylar's shoulders, "you'll be happy to know that I have chosen a suitor. I wish to marry Prince Sylar."
The sultan blinked, gaping at the two in quiet shock, before a huge smile spread across his tan features as the prince's words slowly sank in. "This is... wonderful! Brilliant! I'm-"
"Delighted?" Sylar cut in teasingly.
Mohinder laughed, happily resting his head on the taller boy's shoulder as his father continued to gush and cheer and make plans.
"Yes, absolutely delighted!" the sultan continued. "I shall announce the engagement tomorrow and the two of you will be married right away. And then you, dear Sylar, will become sultan!"
"Sultan?" Sylar repeated, and Mohinder was far too elated to hear the slight hitch in the prince's voice or feel the way his shoulders seemed to slump.
Chapter 6 - Thompson's Hour