Title: To Stand With Brothers


Disclaimer: I surely do not own the movie or characters from which this is based. Just borrowing.

Notes: So, if you have me on alerts on Supernatural, please do not worry. I just liked the movie (seeing it on cable) and this story came to me. (It is too bad Disney has no plans for a sequel- but if people want one, then start buying the DVD to show an interest). Anyway, it is about a brother relationship and I couldn't resist. Ridley, my writing partner will not know about this until she sees it because it was written in a few hours. All mistakes are my own. If there is interest, I was thinking of a modernized Prince of Persia AU. Let me know if anyone wants to see it. Also, if someone would let me know what live journal site to post to, then I would consider it. All mistakes are my own. Enjoy reading!

Part 1:

The thing about being a new brother was that Dastan needed time to become a part of their daily lives. Dastan felt very alone in the palace while trying to become accustomed to his new life. He had food, a comfortable bed, and clothing, but there was no camaraderie like he had with the other street urchins. The king asked to be called father and that Tus and Garsiv should be called brothers, but they weren't very interested in him, an interloper. His brothers' attentions were drawn to their already existing lives of training, their family, and he had to catch up and learn how to ride and use a sword. He missed Bis, his friend.

Tus and Garsiv tolerated him. Their paths crossed in the training yards and with the tutors, but he was not at their level, at least not yet. Daston's day was regulated with training and studies. It left little time for him to explore, but he made the most of the time he had, jumping and leaping while investigating the palace. He took the time to spy on his brothers' activities to try to understand them better.

At dinners amongst just the immediate family they ate in the king's private area. Dastan spoke only when someone asked him a question, otherwise he watched, tried to mimic and fit in. That night during the evening repast, Dastan listened to the day's events in the kingdom by his new father's side.

King Sharaman gazed at Dastan for a moment before referring to his middle son, "Garsiv, why don't you and Dastan go for a ride tomorrow?"

Garsiv frowned, but then tried to cover up his reaction. "Not tomorrow, Father. I have a prior duty."

The King nodded, then added, "There is the next day."

"Very well," Garsiv replied with a sigh as father winked at Dastan.

Dastan made his plan to find some extra time to practice riding. He rose early the next morning, grabbed some water and a pomegranate before making his way to the stables, no one the wiser. He had picked a horse; actually it had picked him by snorting in his direction, naming it Pirouz because he would be victorious in proving he could be as noble as his new family. His goal was to make his father proud, and ride as well Garsiv so then the second son would want to spend more time with him.

He had mastered the basic skills in a short amount of time, but Garsiv and Tus rode as if they were one with their horses, while Dastan was more secure with his feet. He wanted to be better, expect more of himself. Standing up, he danced between the horse and the fence that kept the horses corralled. This would be a useful skill in battle- surprising, too. As with all his training he imagined battles, and what his skills could bring to them to win the day for the king. His skills had kept him alive this long, they could serve the Empire and him.

He lost track of time as he enjoyed the freedom. Datson felt lighter in his head as he rounded another turn in the corral. Garsiv would not be ashamed of him. In his mind he thought of conversations between him and his new brother, like he used to have with Bis and the others.


Somebody waved their hands in front of Pirouz. The horse did not take kindly to being startled, and started an off paced gallop. Daston jerked his head to his name being called, but the distraction and the horse caused him to stumble. He had to save himself, and pushed off, trying to control a landing, but he came down hard against the fence until he found himself flat on his back in the hard packed sand.

"Dastan?" It was Tus's voice and coming closer.

He kept his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath that had left his body while scampering away. His other thought was to defend himself from people who tried to hurt him, regardless that he knew this was his new family. Dastan reined in his breath, controlling it instead of panting and gasping. His heart was still crashing against his chest, but he felt able to open his eyes, blinking in the light.

Garsiv and Tus reappeared in his line of sight, blocking the sun and looking worried.

Tus bent down, ghosting a hand over Dastan. "Are you alright?"

"Why did you do that?" Dastan muttered, his voice sounding weak as he was still straining for normal breaths. Perhaps they didn't intend to hurt him, but they should not have startled him so.

"We were calling you. You didn't answer," Tus explained, looking up to Garsiv who then decided to bend down next to Dastan. "It is time for your studies and no one knew where you were."

"Were you trying to kill yourself? Standing on a horse like that?" Garsiv reprimanded, shaking his head when he didn't get an answer. "I'll take care of the horse."

"Can you get up?" Tus asked after a moment, offering his hand.

Dastan assessed his body. He felt shaky, disconnected, but tested getting up on his elbows before scooting his knees in. "I'm fine."

Tus continued to give him some space, treating him like a wounded animal. He sat in a cross-legged position until Garsiv returned. "We should tell father."

"No, I'm fine. See," Dastan got to his feet, not as fluid as normal, but enough that he hoped to convince his brothers. "Please, don't say anything, please."

Garsiv gave him a skeptical eye. "Fine. Though you should try to be less, well, you."

Dastan smiled from relief. "I'll try." Maybe there was hope for him and his new brothers. He forgot about his aches and pains as his brothers walked him to their studies. Tomorrow, the ride with Garsiv would be a turning point.

The ride did not go as Dastan planned. There was no time for talking, Garsiv wanted to race. So they raced and Garsiv was surprised when Dastan got ahead a few times.

"It's because you're smaller than me."

Garsiv was a sore loser. Dastan whispered to his horse, Parouz to not go so fast, but his horse wanted to run and win, leaving Garsiv pouting. Dastan grew tired as the day went on, his back sore where he had fallen the day before.

He had seen it last night, a mass of aching bruises. He had found it difficult to not wince during dinner as the aches and pains settled in, but luckily no one noticed and Tus and Garsiv had kept their promises.

Dastan was glad when he and his brother were returning to the palace. He did not like the stuffiness of his studies, even though he was told repeatedly they were important by his tutor. He struggled to pay attention to his tutor as he felt unable to take a deep breath. He preserved, the sun ticking the time away until his day ended.

"Not hungry, Dastan?" His father asked at dinner that night as he moved the food around his plate.

Truth be told, Dastan's head ached, and his body felt odd. He found it difficult to stay seated and wished he could go back to his room. "No, father."

Sharaman was not satisfied though, and pressed Dastan, believing he needed to draw his adopted son out of his shell. "Tell me about your ride. Garsiv?"

Garsiv was not quick to answer, still stewing Dastan guessed so Dastan intervened. "Kira," which was Garsiv's horse, "is very fast."

"That's a diplomatic answer," Uncle Nizam answered, looking directly at his brother, the king.

"And did Kira win all the races?" his father asked, an eyebrow cocking upwards.

Garsiv answered this time, "Not all, Father."

Sharaman laughed since he knew his sons so well. "And that is why you are pouting my son?"

Tus started laughing; too, soon Garsiv lost his dower face and was able to relax. With that the dinner was called to an end.

Dastan tried to get up to get to his room as quickly as possible, but was clumsy on his feet, stumbling into his father who caught him. Dastan was unsuccessful with hiding his wince and gasp as Sharaman gripped his shoulders.


He righted his stance as his father moved his grip under his arms, lifting up the back of Dastan's shirt slightly. It was enough for his uncle to notice.

"Sharaman, his back-"

The king leaned over him and lifted the remaining part of his adopted son's shirt. "What happened, my son?"

Dastan did not want anyone in trouble. The king knew he liked to climb so he used it as an excuse. "I fell while climbing. I misjudged my steps." He hated to lie and felt his face blush with shame.

"No more climbing, Dastan. You must be more careful," his father ordered.

Dastan felt crushed at the proclamation. He did not want to against the king.

Tus cleared his throat. "We startled his horse while Dastan was practicing his riding and he fell."

Sharaman carefully helped Dastan sit down again, and ordered Nizam to send for healers. "None of you thought to say anything?"

"We promised Dastan," Garsiv stated. "He said he wasn't hurt."

"What have you to say?" The king placed his fingers under Dastan's jaw so that he was forced to look up from where his head was bowed in misery.

Dastan didn't mean to reveal everything and blamed is on his aching head, lack of sleep and food. "I wanted Garsiv to like me and I thought if I learned to ride really well then we would have that in common."

The king settled his hand against Dastan's cheek. "I see."

Awhile later Dastan was settled back in his room, on his stomach, feeling better. The healers had attended to him, reporting to the king that his new son needed rest, having probably cracked some ribs when he fell. He would feel better with rest, and Dastan was ordered to stay in bed until the healers said otherwise.

Dastan turned his head with the soft click of the door opening.

"I don't think he's awake. We should leave this and go," Dastan recognized Garsiv whispering loudly.

"Are you awake, Dastan?" Tus asked.

Dastan turned his head to let them know he was not sleeping. "I'm sorry I got you in trouble." He hoped that their father had not been harsh with the older boys.

"You should of told us you were hurt, little brother," Tus admonished, he poked Garsiv who stepped forward, closer to the bed.

"We can go riding again. When you're better," Garsiv said, looking uncomfortable after he glanced at Dastan's back molted with bruises. "We brought you a gift."

Tus held out the pendant, multiple charms on a cord, like the ones his brothers wore. "They are for protection. We picked them especially for you."

Tus placed them on the stand next to his bed so Dastan could see them. "Thank you brothers, I'll wear them always."