Author: Lisa Jane PM
As she waits, the Princess shivers - set in original PoP game.Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Drama - Words: 547 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 2 - Published: 01-22-12 - Status: Complete - id: 7766990
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer and A/N: I own nothing. One-shot. First Prince of Persia fan-fic. Set in the original Prince of Persia game.
Run, my beloved, run.
I begged Father not to leave, to either take me with him, or not go at all. The hovering presence of Jaffar, whose eyes glitter from the darkness, watches me as I plead with Father like a child.
To Jaffar, all he states is, "Take good care of her."
"Of course," he responds, his eyes still trained on me, and the light catching on his tongue, licking his lower lip slightly, causes me to shiver.
The door shuts behind Father, and for several days, I am thankfully left alone.
The only light in my life comes soon after; a handsome man scaling my tower to greet me. He doesn't appear to be the royal type, with his rags for clothes. I have never seen a man I love more, and wordlessly, I invite my Prince into my room.
At the same time the doors fly open, and I am enveloped into the darkness of Jaffar's mind as he stalks into the room, and seconds after, the called-for guards.
They grab him by his arms, dragging my Prince away towards the corridor, and as the doors begin to close, I have a moment before all the light of my life is snuffed out. I run for it, but two arms grab me around my waist and I'm kicking desperately into the air.
I'm too late.
Run, mouse, run.
I watch as my sweet mouse runs around the dreaded hourglass and under the door. All I can do is pray for his return.
More than half the sand is pooled into the bottom of the glass, and with it, my hope. I'm not certain what horrifies me more, the fact that my Prince is fighting with his life, trapped in the dungeons of my home, or the very idea of becoming Jaffar's... the word 'wife' is being generous. The fearful girl inside can't stomach the idea of making myself at his beck and call, a slave to him for all his 'physical whims' – he has made that much clear to me in no uncertain terms. But what is my alternative? Death.
And either way, I'd never see my Prince again.
Jaffar came in to see me minutes ago, laughing a cruel laugh that turned my blood to ice. My Prince was so close to me in the palace, only to wind up back in the dungeons once more. I barely hear him as he advises me to make myself ready – either for him, or death; all I can focus on is the sand in the hourglass. If it's taken this long for my Prince to reach that far, and now is back to where he started...
My sweet mouse, do something to help him. Anything.
The footsteps are coming closer to my closed bedroom door.
The sand is gone.
My sweet mouse has come back to me, excitedly... but it feels like it's been too long since I sent him, like my Prince should be here by now.
My door opens, and shakily, I stand to greet my fate.