Omigosh I loved this movie!

Especially Dastan and Tamina.

There was so much potential at the end it made me crazy! So here's what I came up with! It takes place a month after the movie. Bonus points for whoever guesses what the name of the story actually means/is related too!

So yeah, spoilers for EVERYTHING in the movie.

He did not recognize the man staring back at him.

Dastan, Prince of Persia, the Lion, the adopted son of the King-the man who in a day would take part in a union that would unite two kingdoms-looked nothing like the man who stared back at him. His hair was washed and pulled back, his face was clean shaven. The clothing he wore was, well, easily the most expensive clothing he had worn in his entire life. Folds of pale silk, heavy with bright gold embroidery, hung from his frame. For the first time he could remember he carried no weapons. Even the worn red sash that had followed him through all his adventures was gone, replaced by a bright new ruby one. All that was enough to make him feel like the man who stared back at him was a stranger.

But what truly stopped him was the haunted, sleepless eyes that stared back at him.

His brothers had ridiculed him as having 'wedding jitters'-something Tus had boasted vanished by the time your reached your third wife-but Dastan knew it was much worse than that. He was not just about to marry a beautiful Princess. He was about to marry a woman he was already in love with-a woman who did not reciprocate the feeling. How could she? Tamina only knew him as the Prince who had been all but forced on her. She did not know him like he knew her. She did not remember them sitting in the tent, so close he could count her eyelashes anymore than she remembered him desperately holding onto her wrist, screaming that he wouldn't let her drop even as she begged him to let her go. She did not remember tearfully releasing his wrist, telling him that she wished they had been together before falling to her death-

But he did.

Gods he did.

How many nights over the past month had he woken screaming, reaching for something that could not be caught? More than the Prince could count. Once again it was something with a simple explantation-one that defied the fantastical but truthful one. His days with Tamina had been few, with him constantly going between Persia and Alamut. But every time that he came back, he half expected her to be dead. Or to remember. But neither happened and each left a different kind of disappointment churning deep in his stomach. She was kind if a little sharp, she was the same woman, and yet she was different. She did not know him like he knew her. And therein lay the problem. It was like walking on eggshells, trying not to let it slip that he knew things-things he should not have known. Like even when she was hauled in front of the King who conquered her land she still managed to snap. Or how she had been so willing to sacrifice herself to see the world safe-how he would give anything to make sure that would not happen again.

"How's the future King of Alamut?" Bis demanded, throwing open the doors with exuberance, "Gods, Dastan, its about to be your wedding day-not your execution! You look like you're going to be sick!"

"I think I might be," Dastan said, turning away from the mirror and running his hand across his hair, "Bis," he looked up at his friend, "if you had something really-really important to tell someone else-but they might think you mad or worse-would you tell them?"

"Oh Gods, did you sleep with another woman last night?" Bis demanded, "its not that bad, Prince's do it all the time-you'll probably have five wives this time next year and they're going to have to share you-"

"Bis! I didn't sleep with another woman last night," Dastan said.

"Oh, then whatever it is, it can't be that bad. Just wait til after the wedding when she can't run away."

Dastan looked at him. He knew Tamina and he knew that if he didn't tell her now she probably would run away-and leave him bruised or worse. He couldn't wait until after the wedding, he had to tell her. He had to tell her now. After all that they had been through he owed her more than a marriage to a liar-even if she could not remember what had happened between them. Moving behind the screen in his room, he began reaching for the buttons high on his throat. Dastan pulled off the heavy ornate fabric, grabbing his regular cloths and throwing them on before stepping into the main room. Out of habit he grabbed his sword and strapped it on before crossing the space to the door.

"Dastan where are you going?" Bis demanded.

"Out," Dastan called back.

"Try to get back in time for your wedding would you?" his friend called after him.

Dastan waved a hand before walking out into the main hallway. Everywhere he went there were people preparing for the wedding, all of whom smiled and attributed his sleepless look to the impending event. Dastan tried to get his lips to curve, to extend courtesy to the people around him but it felt like his features had frozen. Half the time his smile did not make it to his lips. By the time he made it to the ground floor of the palace, Dastan had half broken into a run. He had to get out of the palace, away from the silver bowls filled with white flowers and the smells of meat cooking for the wedding feast. All of it was a lie. His father had said that he was a great man. But what kind of man let the situation get as bad as he had. he should have just told her-that first day he should have found a way to say something.

He was not a great man, he wasn't even a good Prince and he had a feeling he was going to make a disappointing husband as well.

Instead of going into the city or even out of the palace, he made his way down, into the tunnels that Tamina had shown him before. There was less sand in them, the secret catacombs still secret but obviously not having suffered the way they had when the Persians had been combing the city for the hourglass. His feet easily took him to the statue where Tamina had first unlocked the passageway into the room filled with sand. It had been swept clean, the cobwebs decorating the statue removed. Dastan half wondered if they were planning to show him around after he became King. The cleanness and smell of incense certainly spoke of welcoming someone.

Dastan frowned as he rounded the corner. The smell of incense was new. He half knew what he would see when he turned the corner and yet his feet took him all the way into the room where Tamina was. She was kneeling in front of the statue, her fingers clasped around two narrow sticks of incense that filled the air with heavy perfume. Dastan felt his breath catch. She was wearing the ornate white robe that she wore when she prayed. Even now he could see the dark henna that decorated her hands, the symbols accented with bright gold. Crystals wove through her dark locks, framing her face. In spite of the breathtaking beauty, as he looked at her Dastan realized that he'd practically cut his own arm off to see her in that ostrich racing get up again. He watched as she finished her prayers, placing the incense in the statue's hands before turning to face him.

"See something you like?" she asked, her tone sharp.

"Sorry-I-uh-" Dastan stopped, "you don't seem surprised to see me here," he said, his eyes sweeping over her.

"Why should i be?" she asked.

"Well isn't this place supposed to be secret?" he asked.

"You seem to know a great many things that are supposed to be secret," Tamina returned, brushing past him and starting up the stairs.

Dastan looked at her curiously. If he didn't know better he would say that she was angry with him. No, he did know her, and he could tell that she was angry with him. It was written all over the haughty expression on her face, in the way her fingers clenched around the layers of fabric she wore, in the stomp of her slippered feet as she all but pounded up the stairs. Quickly he ran through what had transpired between them in the two days that he had been in the City but nothing stuck out to him. They had barely seen each other, both all but confined to their rooms as final preparations were made for their impending nuptials. And yet the Princess was treating him like he had offended her.

"Your Highness if I've offended you-"

"Oh not all, Prince Dastan," she said, "like every Princess, I so enjoy being lied to by the man I am to marry in a few days."

Dastan's feet faltered as he stared at her. Lied to her? Did she know? Were the guardians of the dagger somehow privy to its secrets? But no, he realized. That was impossible. She had been surprised when he had released the sands and tuned back time during their first fight. Which could only mean-well it meant something. He looked up, realizing that while his pace had faltered hers had sped up. Quickly he put on speed, catching her as they reached the top of the stairs where she threw open the doors and stepped out into the hallway without a care to how it looked for the bride and groom to be coming out of a dark, secluded place a day before their wedding.

"Lied to?" he followed her out of the entrance and into the hallway, "how have I lied to you?"

"As if you don't know," she said, her dark eyes blazing as she glared at him. He stared at her, his confusion genuine. Her anger seemed to falter for a moment before she turned a corner. He followed her as she walked out of the palace and into a secluded garden, spinning on her heel to face him so quickly he very nearly fell into her, "contrary to how you treat me I am not a complete idiot," she snapped at him.

It had taken him a lot of practice and an incredible amount of self control not to rise to every opportunity she gave him for banter. Even in her most Princessey state, Tamina was anything but a damsel in distress. She was cunning and brilliant and beautiful-things he was already very aware of. But without the threat of the end of the world, she seemed to possess a bit more patience and a thread of more self control. Her barbs were fewer and further in between. But now as he looked down at her angry face, he felt his hackles rise in the promise of a fight.

"Well maybe if you stopped treating me like one we could figure out where this anger is coming from," he shot back at her.

"Me treat you like an idiot?" she demanded, drawing herself up to her slightly fuller height, "I have done nothing of the sort!"

"And I have?"

"Oh you think I don't see the way you look at me?" she demanded.

"The way you dress, I think looking's part of what you're going for-"

"Says the man who wanders around without a shirt on for absolutely no reason!" she cried, "and you don't look at me like someone whose admiring my clothing-or what's underneath for that matter," she told him.

"And how do I look at you?" he questioned.

"Like I'm going to slip through your fingers and disappear!"

Dastan's eyes widened as he stared at her. She held his gaze, her lips still parted from her angry shout before they pressed together as if she had said too much. He gaped at her as she turned and looked at the reflecting pool to their right, staring intently at the water, her back turned to him. He looked at her like she was going to disappear. He had been so intent on not letting anything slip, on not giving away what had happened that he hadn't even thought of the way he was looking at her. Suddenly he wished that he had the dagger so he could go back and erase that crucial mistake. It had been a month and he was sure that if he had spent a month looking at her like she was going to disappear, she had to know that something was going on.

Slowly he turned so that he too was facing the reflecting pool. In its broken reflection he could see her features staring hard at the water, as if she was willing her emotions back. He looked at his own haunted, sleepless face and realized that she looked a thousand times more royal than he ever would. But just like him she had lost control and let something slip that she clearly wished she hadn't. Letting out a breath, Dastan looked over at her in the reflection of the water. Her eyes darted over to his, just for a moment before they once again moved away.

"I've heard you too," she said, as if admitting a great secret, "I heard you that first night after my prayers. We had only just met but you were having a nightmare and you-" she stopped before continuing, "you screamed my name."

Dastan swore and looked away, feeling his cheeks burn with shame. Of course her prayers would take her through the palace and he was not known for being quiet. Not unless an attack required it. How many times had she spoken of how being the guardian of the dagger was her most important duty? And she'd heard him screaming her name. He knew that it was because of the nightmares, because every night he was in that palace of hers he would remember her wrist in his hand. Remember what if felt like to have her release his hand and fall to her death. He'd always awake in a cold sweat, his breath coming in choked gasps as his mind tried to figure out that she was alive and well somewhere in the palace. That even if it was a memory, it was no longer real. Not anymore.

"You never brought it up," he began.

"Well its not exactly the type of thing one brings up in idle conversation," she snapped, cutting him off.

"Well I think it would be the type of thing one'd be curious about," he shot back.

"Well maybe I knew you would avoid the conversation!" she told him, her eyes narrowing in triumph when he looked away, "what did your friends tell you, don't tell the Princess the truth until you're married and she can't run away?"

"Yes-no-well I wasn't going to do that!" he said defensively as her mouth opened in outrage, "besides if its been bothering you so much why haven't you said anything?"

"You know very well that I can't have people attacking this city!" she said.

"And how do I know that?"

"Because you know what the dagger does!" she shouted. He had no retort for that but his mouth opened anyway. Before he could get the words out though, her hands yanked the long chain she wore up, revealing the vial of sand nestled between her breasts, "don't lie to me and claim you do not know what this is," she said, holding the glass vial aloft so he could see the sand inside. His eyes moved away, "my sacred duty is-"

"To watch the dagger, I know," he said.

"To protect the dagger. So I watched you," she said, "after that first night. I saw the way you looked at me, the way you knew things you were not supposed to-" she shook her head, "all of it made too much sense. You used the dagger before."

The words were soft for their monumental accusation but Tamina pushed any guilt she felt aside. Ever since that first night she had watched, she had waited, she had held her breath every time the Prince Dastan spoke. Slowly the puzzle pieces began to come together but the picture they showed was anything but comforting. She had agreed to the marriage for many reasons but soon it became clear that she was going to need to keep the Prince close. But as time went on, he proved himself to be far more courageous and therefore much more dangerous than she had anticipated. Her goal had been to keep the city safe, even if that meant marrying the Persian, but soon it became clear the two were even closer intertwined than she could have imagined. But as she watched him it became clear that she was not the only one observing.

She had barely noticed it at first, mistaking his hungry stares for the leering of a warrior. It was not until she noticed the sleeplessness in his face, noticed the anxious way his eyes searched out possible threats or how even when they rode side by side, he insisted on being just slightly in front of her. Slowly she realized that he was protecting her. LIke one who already knew how trouble prone she was. Initially she had been suspicious, then she had been flattered, then she had been suspicious all over again. Dastan was kind but he seemed almost haunted. Far too haunted for a man who had lived the years he had. When he had shyly admitted to her that he had been adopted by the King-even though she already knew-and attributed his actions to his early life on the streets she had almost believed him. Almost, but not quite.

And now seeing him looking away, she knew.

He had used the dagger before.

Tamina's stomach churned as she too looked away, her wild accusations falling silent. His screams for her, the way he acted-he had used the dagger over a long period of time. Which could only mean that he had unleashed the Sands. And the only way for him to do that was to have her help. A part of her cried that she would never do such a thing. Help a Persian, help him unleash the Sands? It went against everything she believed. And yet there was no other explanation for what he had done, for the way that he acted around her. Forcing back the panic that flared in her, she looked at the Prince in front of her.

"What happened?" she demanded. His head flew up, eyes locking on her and she held his gaze, "you must tell me what happened," she repeated, her voice edged with panic.

"I-"

"Did i tell you not to tell me?" she questioned, stepping forward. He shook his head, "Dastan my duty is to guard the dagger. Whatever you did, I'll understand. But I need to know what happened."

He looked at her, seemingly torn between telling her and keeping his silence. The haunted look in his eyes seemed to echo with agony now, as if telling his tale would cause him pain. Tamina forced her eyes to remain on his, trying not to blink. She had to know. He had to tell her. She was a part of this, of whatever had happened before he got to the Sands. For her own curiosity as much as for her duty as Guardian, she had to know what happened. Holding his eyes with her own, she reached forward, her hand gently touching his calloused one. He jerked, his body tensing as his eyes flew down to her fingers. When he made to pull his hand away, her fingers tightened on his, preventing him from escaping.

"I-I shouldn't have said anything," he said, his eyes remaining on their hands but he made no move past a half hearted attempt to break her grip.

"Dastan," she said his name firmly. His eyes darted to her before going down, "please," she said, her tone soft.

She didn't know what changed his mind, what made his hand turn slowly in their grip so that instead of her hand holding his, his hand joined with hers. No more than she understood why her heartbeat sped up, her eyes glancing down at their joined hands before flying up to meet his as he looked up at her face. She tried to fix her features into something resembling reassurance, comfort even, but wasn't sure she succeeded. He was silent before he moved her slowly over to the edge of the pool, sitting down. She sat with him, making sure to sweep the gauzy robe she wore out of the way. His hand tightened on hers for a moment before releasing it. Tamina did not understand why her hand suddenly felt chillingly cold, nor why when she cradled it against her lap that did nothing to alleviate the feeling.

"It was my Uncle Nazim's fault," Dastan said, "he wanted the throne for himself. So he forge weapons, said the were from Alamut and convinced my brother Tus to attack. He took over Alamut. Nazim killed my father with a poisoned robe, framed me for what he did. Tus took over the throne but Nazim knew once he got the dagger it was easy to just make it so my father was dead-so that Tus and Garsiv were never born."

His voice faltered as he spoke, his fingers tightening against the fabric of his pants.

"He killed them, right in front of my eyes. The Hassasins got Garsiv but he saved my life before he died. Nazim slit Tus's throat right in front of my eyes. I watched the three of them die and there wasn't anything I could do."

Tamina bit the inside of her cheek. His brothers dead, his father killed, the Empire about to fall into the hands of the man who had done it all. It was enough to break even the strongest of hearts. Her hand reached forward but he spoke before she could touch him. Quickly she grabbed her hand back, meeting his gaze before he once again looked at the ground in front of his feet.

"And then there was you-you and that Gods cursed Dagger," he shook his head and for a moment the smile on his lips was impossibly bitter. But slowly it turned almost fond, "you insisted on getting that thing to the Temple no matter what. Stole it from me more times than I could count and left me for dead more than a few as well," he looked at his hands, the smile not slipping from his face, "and even if I was more miserable than I'd ever been in all my years, you still made me smile."

"And?" Tamina pressed when he fell silent. He glanced at her, "I made you smile? There's more to it than that! You didn't just turn back time for a minute, you did for much longer-"

"Nazim found the Sands, in the catacombs. You led me there-even though you'd already almost died for the Dagger once-and we got to the Sands-" he stopped.

"And I died," she finished, feeling as if she had been dunked in icy waters of the reflecting pool.

Slowly Dastan looked over at her and it was all the conformation she needed. Tamina struggled to her feet, her breath fighting its way out of her lungs. She had died. She had really been dead. The thought was so strange it made her feel as if she was going to really die all over again. All those people dead, the world almost ending and so Dastan had made the only choice that he could. It made a terrible sort of sense and yet she still felt as if she was going to be sick.

"I died," she repeated, turning around to face him, "how did I die?"

"You do-"

"How?"

"You fell," he said, as though confessing a great sin, "I caught you and you but you forced me to let go. Said that I had to stop Nazim and save everyone. Said it was my destiny. And you-" he took a breath, his eyes looking up as they glistened, "you let my wrist go and I couldn't hold onto you."

Tamina stared at him, painfully aware of the stinging in her eyes. Now it truly did make sense. Why he looked at her the way he did, why he always tried to protect her even when there were no threats-why he always awoke screaming her name as if he could save her. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she looked up at the miserable Prince in front of her. She had a terrible feeling that this was the first time he had spoken of what had happened but all the comfort she could give was locked in her throat.

"Did you love me?" she asked, her voice choked as she stared at him. His eyes met hers.

"I think I could've," he answered honestly.

Betrayal made her eyes burn and her throat tight as she stared at him. He had known her, he had known all that had happened and yet in the month that they had been together he had not found the words to tell her. She did not know if she would have found the words to tell him, had their positions been reversed, but she had not been the one to use the Dagger. She did not realize that she had stepped away from him until his eyes widened and he took a step forward, one hand reaching out. But she pulled further away, the idea of him touching her suddenly unbearable. How many times had he touched her before? In what ways? What had transpired between them? How could he know so much and she be so perfectly clueless about what they had shared?

How could he even think about marrying her?

"I-" the words were strangled, "I have to go," she said, turning around and fleeing the gardens.

"Tamina, wait!" he cried, his fingers just brushing her sleeve.

But, once again, he was not strong enough to hold onto her.

She had already slipped away.

Okay so as of right now I've got this as a 3-shot.

But if you want the next chapter than you guys/gals gotta review! I tend to update the stories that have readers who are interested and the best way to show that is to review! I like alerts and faves but I like reviews way more!

So please review!