Author's Note: I've been sucked into this fandom and I'm loving it. Here I go, jumping on the bandwagon of Prince of Persia fanfiction. So here is my take on how Dastan feels during his whole quest after his father's supposed death at his hands. I was inspired by "Endless Night", a song from the Lion King Original Broadway Soundtrack. I'd encourage you all to listen to it while reading my little piece. All right, here we go.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Prince of Persia franchise.

Endless Night

As a child, before he was taken into the life of luxury, Dastan had slept under the stars. He knew each by name and the stories behind them. Tonight, Prince Dastan slept beneath a starless night. The moon was the only source of light in the Persian borderlands. He then suddenly thought of home.

Home.

Father.

Father was dead.

Sharaman, King of Persia, burns before his eyes. Dastan rushes to his side, pleading for someone to help him. No one comes to help. The court merely stares at him, calling Dastan names with their eyes.

Traitor.

Streetrat.

Murderer.

Treacherous snake.

Even Tus and Garsiv watch in horror, turning on their youngest brother. He has no eye on the throne. All of Persia knows that, but after handing Father the prayer robe and watching him fall, they have forgotten. He has no choice but to flee, taking the Alamutian Princess with him.

As it turns out, she is more than a desert bloom. She is much more deadly than that. With her sharp tongue and wit, she is a worthy opponent when they banter. Half the time, Dastan wishes she would just kill him in his sleep after he is drunk with pleasure. It would spare him the misery. It would be an end to this nightmare, but even thinking of her, a priestess, in such unholy ways, does nothing to push his father out of his mind.

In the silence, he attempts to listen. Dastan hears nothing but the sound of breathing. He hears his own shallow breaths and Tamina's calm ones. He cannot sleep with this on his chest. He knows he did not kill Sharaman.

He did not kill the one he called father. The only one who believed him was her, a woman whose city had been invaded. He had been the one who broke through her city's defenses. It did not bring him much relief when she believed him. Things did not change.

The nightmare continues to haunt him.

It is real.

Home is lost to him.

Dastan does not know where to go now. Sharaman had given him hints on what to do, but now, he has no one to guide him on his way.

Daybreak awakens him abruptly. The desert sun burns. He looks around for the horse – techinally, Garsiv's horse – and finds that it is still there. Tamina has her back to him, getting ready to ride off and leave him in the middle of nowhere. She is humming a tune as she packs.

She does not know that he is awake.

Watching her quietly, he recalls what his father said. Sharaman had suggested that Dastan himself take her as a wife instead of Tus. The memory remains into the forefront of his mind.

Then, it hits him.

He has found the way.

I apologize if that did not make any sense at all. It was a drabble that needed to get out of my head.