No copyright infringement intended. I do not own Prince of Persia.

Author's Note:

I wrote this story when I was lying sick at home with the flu and had just re-watched the film. At first I just meant to write a short piece of total fluff. But then I decided to bring in a villain and things started to expand! You can still expect a great deal of fluff, though …

This is the story of how Dastan endeavours to win Tamina's heart after they got married, because she cannot remember anything of what happened between them earlier. But they both have a hard time finding the right way to express their feelings.

I do know that Dastan in the film has got blue eyes. But in my story, they are golden brown, period.

I also want to mention, that even though I got the overall idea for this story before reading other PoP fics, some stories on have inspired me to develop it further, especially New Beginnings by TheNoblePersian. Vengeance by Woffles92 is also a highly original and well written story, that I'll recommend to any PoP fan.

Oh, and one last thing. I've been learning English for 17 years, but it is not my mother tongue. If you feel there are some words that I used incorrectly, please enlighten me. I would really appreciate it because I am training to be an English teacher.


~ Piece by piece ~

A Prince of Persia fan fiction
by elfthoughts

It was a year to the day since Dastan had presented Tamina with the Dagger of Time as a gift of betrothal. That meant that in one week precisely, they had their first anniversary as husband and wife. And though the Dagger was an artefact without equal in all of known history, it was a pretty measly wedding gift, considering the fact that it had actually belonged to her in the first place. Until he had decided to steal it from her only moments earlier. It was a long story. One that he hoped to be able to tell his princess one day. But the time was not yet right. Nevertheless, he was determined to give her something very special at this anniversary. Because he wanted to show her how special she was to him. In fact, he had tried carefully to show her that every day of their marriage. To show her how much he cared for her and admired her. He knew her. In another time, she had opened her soul to him. But she no longer remembered. It was the work of the Dagger. But in return, her city had been saved from utter ruin and his father, the king of Persia, had been saved from an attempt on his life by his own brother, Dastan's uncle, Nizam. Only Dastan now held the true knowledge of what had actually happened. No one would believe him if he told them, not even his father or brothers. He hoped one day to tell everything to Tamina. She was the only one who would ever understand, because she knew the power of the Dagger. But first, he would have to win the trust of her heart. And to her, he was after all just a stranger, some random, stuck-up Persian prince, who had attacked her city and barged into her life by request of his older brother, prince Tus. Sometimes he wondered why she had accepted his hand at all. It must be because of the Dagger that he had given back to her.

Dastan and his best friend Bis sat down at a table in "Kazim's Wine Room". It was the tavern they and Dastan's other men favoured of all in the Royal City. Dastan nodded at the Kazim, the tavern keeper, in the way that meant both "Hello," and "We would like the meal of the day." They came here so often that neither Dastan or the tavern keeper bothered with words when the matter was simply ordering a meal. Kazim was fond of the ingenuous prince and his lively retinue. They were good for business, both regarding midday meals during the week and nightly carousing on the weekends, and Dastan forbade his men to fight inside the tap room or otherwise cause trouble. He returned quickly with two heavy laden wooden plates, two wooden tankards and two ceramic jugs, a small one containing wine and a larger one containing water. Dastan's palate was parched, because he had been training with his men all morning. That is, if training was a word that could be applied to the disorderly brawling that took place in an abandoned lot near the harbour in the lower city. He took the wine jug and poured a small amount of the ruby liquid in his tankard. Then he poured water into it until the mixture reached the tankard's brim and held it to his mouth. Some gulping and hollow slurping noises were heard. Then he set the tankard down and refilled it in the same fashion.

"Bis, I need your advice. I don't know what to give Tamina as a gift on our anniversary," Dastan said as they began to eat.

More of Dastan's men spilled through the door of the tavern, talking and joking loudly. They were all sweaty and dirty, just like the prince and his friend. Bis noticed that Dastan lowered his voice more and more the closer his men came.

"My prince, you are really asking the wrong person," he replied. Bis did have his charms, and occasionally a girl would fall for them. But her infatuation always seemed to fade when she discovered that, in Bis' world, as the prince's right-hand man, no one came before Dastan. Thus he never seemed to be able to hold on to a woman for more than a week, two at the most.

"Well, you're my best friend, so you have to help, Bis! You must have some idea. But it has to be something very special," Dastan went on. Obviously he was in over his head in love with the Alamutian princess.

"Women like jewellery, don't they?" Bis said. "Why don't you go through your father's treasure room. You'd be bound to find something extraordinary."

"Yeah, maybe ..." Dastan muttered. A lot of women would probably be impressed with a select piece of jewellery from the Persian treasure chamber, but he doubted Tamina was one of them. For all her beauty and wealth, she had had a hard upbringing, learning many of life's lessons at a very early age, much like himself. She knew there were far more important things in the world than jewels and finery. No, it had to be something more personal, something which held an affectionate value. If only he could ask his father for advice. But king Sharaman and prince Tus were away on state business. He would have to ask his other brother Garsiv, who was left in charge of the city. It might and it might not be a bad idea. For one, Garsiv's view of the female sex did not quite match his own, and secondly, it was not easy to reach beyond Garsiv's usual defensive wall of mockery and scorn. But when you did, he was the most loyal and helpful of brothers.

Tamina had likewise been aware of what day it was from the moment she woke up. It was strange to think about that it was one year since Dastan had suddenly stepped into her life and hung around ever since in his sort of shy yet determined manner. She had noticed how he spent as much of his time as possible with her in Alamut, although the war against the Koshkhan, which fortuitously was now over, had required him to leave from time to time. Yet, he always kept a sort of polite distance to her. Often he would sit by the wall and simply look at her, his eyes following her every move. She did not mind, because his gaze was more like that of a dog worshipping its master than that of a pervert who imagined her naked, which well described some of her previous suitors. Sometimes he looked as if there was something he wanted to speak to her about, but he never found the words. And sometimes he looked sad. She was sure there was some great sorrow in his heart. She would like to know what it was.

She rather liked him. He was treating her more respectfully than any other husband of an arranged royal marriage that she knew of, had ever done with a wife of his. He had not taken any other wives yet, either, which would have been customary in Persian royal tradition. Rumour had it that he was desperately in love with her. Whenever her maidservant and friend, a young girl named Farah, mentioned this with a wry smile on her lips, Tamina would wave her hand dismissively and laugh the matter away. She did not believe in love at first sight, and Dastan's silly behaviour had been constant since the first day they spoke together. How could it be anything else than a fleeting fancy, set off by her beautiful exterior?

Except … there was something in his tone, that day when he handed her the Dagger back, that suggested that he might know of its power. What if he might even have used it and talked to her before and now she couldn't remember? But no. The Dagger could only reverse one minute of time. One minute was not enough to make any material difference in their acquaintance. He could not possibly know anything about her. He had even said himself that he did not. She clearly remembered the words he had used that first day, when she had accused him of mocking her: "Oh, I hardly think we know each other well enough for that, princess. But I look forward to the day that we do." Those words had never ceased to puzzle her.

She had not thought twice about accepting Dastan's hand, and she had never regretted it later on. She was not entirely sure why that was. Maybe it was the way she had felt from the first time she looked into his eyes. She had felt safe. Calm. Loved.

Actually it was even convenient for her that he had come along. Traditionally the role as guardian of the Dagger of Time passed from mother to daughter, and she would need a husband to get a daughter. Normally the guardian would choose a husband from within the covenant. That was not compulsory, but it meant that husband and wife would not disagree about the girl's training to be brought up as a guardian, which was a rather tough affair.

Tamina, however, had not had a keen eye on any man, from the covenant or otherwise. She just had not met the right person for her, and to tell the truth, she had not thought that she ever would. Then the Persians had come along and solved the problem for her. Well, not entirely, because so far she had not had a daughter. Or a son for that matter. That was partly Dastan's fault, because he had not yet stayed in her chambers for a single night. She was grateful that he did not just take advantage of her, but it was still very odd. Maybe, for some reason, he really was not interested. If that was the case, she would somehow feel hurt. Not even offended, just hurt. But maybe he was being so incredibly chivalrous that he was waiting for a sign from her that he was allowed to stay. If that was the case, she was not wholly sure about how to react. Even though he was kind, he was still too much of a stranger.