Disclaimer: Don't own, never have, never will.
A/N: Well…..let's just say after my third, no fourth watching of Prince of Persia that a plot bunny attacked me and demanded a series of oneshots in which Dasty was injured in some way or another! 'Cause really, there aren't enough of those. So, here we have the first one! Oh! Er, and Dastan's about…. oh let's say, fourteen in this fic!
"Come on, Dastan, you can do it!" Bis cried after another failed attempt the kick off a wall backwards and do a flip. "I've seen you do it at least a thousand times before!"
"The third step is always the hardest," Dastan grinned and told the crowd watching him. He stepped back again and ran towards the wall. He took two steps up the wall and then pushed off into the air on the third one. Dastan felt himself flipping, but no quick enough and not high enough for gravity not to kick in until he had his feet under him.
As a reaction to the fear of doing a complete faceplant, he put out a hand so as to attempt to catch himself in a one handed handstand. But his weight was too much and the force of him hitting the ground was to great. There was a sickening crack and Dastan cried out as pain lanced up his arm which buckled underneath him.
The rest of his legs hit the ground with less force, but a jagged cut was torn into his leg when it hit a rather sharp rock protruding from the ground. The crowd was silent now, no longer cheering, no longer jeering. The young prince was curled up in a ball, cradling his broken arm.
"Dastan?" Dastan felt Bis' hand touch his shoulder. Slowly he uncurled himself, careful not to jostle his injured arm. He could see the bottom half of the left leg of his pants slowly darkening with blood.
"You okay, Dastan?" Bis asked, worried for his friend. The crowd had started dispersing, not wanting to be there if by some chance the prince's brothers showed up.
"'M fine, Bis," Dastan said, even though it was obvious he was not. He staggered to his feet, wincing when he put weight on his injured leg. Bis immediately came to his friend's aid helping support his weight, but Dastan shrugged him off. "I'm fine, Bis. You should go back home."
"Actually, I think it would be a better idea if I helped you back to the palace."
"I can make it back on my own. It's not like I'm dying."
"Even if you were dying you'd probably say you weren't," Bis said, rolling his eyes. "Fine, but if your brothers come after my blood because you didn't make it back all right, then I'm holding you responsible."
Dastan smiled slightly. "As always."
Moments later, Dastan was limping off in the direction of the palace holding, cradling his arm to his chest. He used backroads and alleyways to avoid notice, it wouldn't do to see a Prince of Persia limping through the streets. Truth be told, he wasn't even supposed to be here in the first place.
Due to his slow pace, it was nearing nightfall when the gates finally came in to view. With his destination so close, Dastan decided to stop for a few moments to rest his leg before continuing. It had stopped bleeding a while ago, but it still throbbed with every step he took. He sighed and sat down on the side of the road and looked at the palace. Then he remembered, there was a banquet tonight and chances were, he wasn't going to be there at all. His brothers were going to kill him.
"Where is he?" Tus fumed, after storming out of yet another room that was devoid of the youngest prince. "He does know that there is a banquet tonight, right?"
"Probably forgot," Garsiv commented, coming out of a room just a little down the hall. "He's probably out with his street rat friends."
As much as he hated to admit it, Tus thought that Garsiv was probably right. "I suppose we should go and drag him back before Father finds out."
The last time King Sharaman had discovered Dastan had been out in the city of Nasaf, well….. the two older princes thought the yelling would never end.
"I suppose," Garsiv sighed. I'll go saddle my horse.
About ten minutes later the two brothers were riding out of the gates towards the city.
Dastan had only just started walking again when he saw the palace gates open and saw two riders come out. They were too far away to identify, but the young prince guessed the two were his brothers come to drag him back in time for the banquet and before Father discovered he had gone.
However, there was a possibility that the two riders were guards and Dastan did not want it to be them to find him, for they would surely take him before Father to tell of what he had done. With this possibility in mind, Dastan hid along the side of the road but kept his view unobscured so he could see the faces of the riders.
Soon enough, he could see them clearly, and they were his brothers! Grinning, Dastan got out from his hiding place so they could see him. Sure enough, once they recognized him, they slowed and stopped before him, neither of them noticing that he was injured, or it was too dark to see it.
Growling, Garsiv jumped down from his horse.
"Where have you been! You do know that Father will have our hides and yours if we aren't at the banquet and he'll most definitely have yours once he hears what you've been doing!"
Garsiv grabbed Dastan's arm, intending to pull him over to his horse so he could ride with him, but he had grabbed his brother's broken arm. Dastan cried out in pain as the bones grated against each other. Immediately, Garsiv dropped Dastan's arm and Tus swung down from his horse, both wanting to know why Dastan had cried out.
Dastan had crumpled to the ground the moment Garsiv had released his arm and tears of pain ran down his cheeks.
"Dastan?" Tus asked, worry replacing the anger that had previously been there.
"Broke my arm," Dastan muttered through gritted teeth, slightly ashamed.
"And that's not the only thing that happened," Garsiv said, pointing to Dastan's bloody leg.
"Why did you not tell us?" Tus asked.
"I didn't exactly have the chance."
Dastan glared at Garsiv who muttered, "I'm sorry."
"We should get going," Tus said, glancing at the darkening sky. "Come on, Dastan."
Tus extended a hand and helped his little brother up and then helped him on to the horse which he then climbed on behind him.
As they rode back to the palace, Tus asked, "What in the world were you doing, little brother?"
Dastan sighed. "You know how I push off a wall and do a flip?"
"Well, it didn't exactly go the way it was supposed to."
Tus almost wanted to laugh. He had actually been thinking for a moment that his brother had been attacked or beaten up, but all it was was a simple trick gone wrong.
When they reached the palace Garsiv was given the job of getting Dastan up to Tus' chambers without too many people noticing while Tus went to find his trusted healer.
When Garsiv and Dastan had reached Tus' chambers unnoticed and were waiting for the return of the eldest prince, Garsiv too asked Dastan how he had come to be in his state and he too wanted to laugh, but for a slightly different reason. In Garsiv's mind, if Dastan had managed to mess up one of his acrobatics then he must have embarrassed himself in front of his friends.
Soon enough, Tus returned with the healer who set about setting Dastan's arm and patching up his leg. When he had finished, he gathered his supplies and moved towards the door, but was stopped when Tus caught his arm.
"Do me a favor please, old friend," Tus said. "Don't tell father."
The healer chuckled. "Fear not, prince, your father will not find out from me." He looked at Dastan lying rather lazily on Tus' bed, eyes half lidded. "Always getting into trouble, that one is."
"Indeed he is," Tus agreed.
With that, the healer left.
"As the healer said, little brother," Tus said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "you are always getting into trouble."
Dastan grinned sleepily, tired from the days experience.
"Too much trouble in my opinion," Garsiv said, but he was gazing fondly down at his brother.
Suddenly there came knock at the door and Tus went to open it, careful not to reveal the youngest prince lying on his bed. A servant girl stood there.
"Prince Tus, the banquet is about to start and you and your brothers are needed there," she told him.
A few minutes later when the girl had gone, Tus turned to Garsiv.
"What are we going to tell Father?"
But that, mellyn nin, is a tale for another time. *grins* It's almost 1:00 am on a school night, so I'd better make this short with two more words. Please review!