A/N. I just watched the movie, and I, like many others, loved it! So this was buzzing around in my mind when I was on the way home. Hope you like it! For the title, I have to give credit to my sister, who thought of it.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Prince of Persia. Disney does, I'm pretty sure.

I slowly paced through the halls of Alamut, passing the Princess's chambers as I headed for the gardens that decorated the sides of the palace. Thoughts of yesterday flittered across my mind like panicked birds, first one, and then another. I thought about Tamina and then Nazim, and the snakes, and how my brothers died, and how my father died, and love and sorrow and loss…


And hate.

In the darkest recesses of my mind, I remembered how my brothers had looked at me. I was struggling against everyone to get to my father and help and they just stared at me. Shock and pain shadowed their eyes but the strongest emotion was hate. They had loathed me in that alternate reality, and it scared me.

My troubling thoughts meant I wasn't watching where I was going, so when I slammed into a wall, I had no idea where I was. I blinked a few times and spun around dazedly, trying to gather my bearings. It didn't help that someone was laughing. And that someone was getting closer. I spun around to see Garsiv walking up to me, a smile on his face.

"What's wrong Lion of Persia? Forget that the walls are solid?" he teased, coming up behind to grab me in a loose headlock. My instincts told me to skitter away, but my body was frozen. My breath came in short pants as I tried to buck away from the imprisonment. Garsiv just grabbed me tighter, laughing as he started rubbing a fist in my hair.

"Aww, did the lion turn into a kitten?" he asked, laughing as he released me only to pull me into a hug. I stiffened immediately, eyes wide as his arm circled around my shoulders and squeezed me into his side. Garsiv felt my tense muscles and glanced down at me. It was far cry from the loathing look he'd given me in the other universe, we were definitely closer than we'd been in the alternate universe, but still, there was a look of curiosity and suspicion the way he looked at me.

"Dastan?" I glanced up at him before smiling weakly.

"I... I need to go…" I stumbled with the words wildly before dashing off, speeding down one hallway and then another until I was in a lonely part of the castle.

What was that?
Why had I panicked?

I shook myself, trying to regain my steady pace as I stumbled down the hall and tried to figure out why I had freaked out.

But I knew why.

It was because I remembered. I remembered things that had never happened, or would ever happen. I remembered Garsiv yelling at me, fighting me, punching me.

I remembered him hurting me.

And no matter how much I loved the man like a brother…

I was scared of him.

My body still remembered how he'd kneed me and punched me and kicked me. All the bruises were still on my body. How they remained, I have no idea, but they stayed.

I ran a hand through my dark hair, messing it up as my fingers hit the silver beads dangling from them. Letting out a sigh, I walked down the hall and headed for the window, desperate to get out and climb. The banister provided a decent starting platform, so I climbed up it and leapt for a nearby wall. My fingers automatically found a ledge and gripped it, holding on for dear life.

I didn't pause in my work, I just kept climbing-hands automatically finding handholds and feet finding footholds to push off from. It became a methodical thought in my mind as I scaled the palace walls-grunt, lift hand, grab ledge, pull, find ledge, step, grunt, lift hand, grab ledge, pull, find ledge, step, and so on. I didn't even notice that I'd reached my room until I found myself standing on the windowsill. The curtains whispered around me as I stared into the room that had been Tus's in the alternate universe. It was now mine, but I remembered what happened in it.

This was where Tus died. Where his throat was slit.

But this was also where I died.

Where I stood and tried to convince Tus that I wasn't a murderer. This was where I'd plunged the dagger into my own heart. I remember the eerie cold feeling that came over me, and how I'd fallen to the floor, gasping harshly as I tried to breathe…


How could I remember this? I wasn't supposed to be able to recall what had happened in the alternate reality when I'd died. The one where Tus was the one to press the ruby. He was supposed to remember. Wait, scratch that. He wasn't supposed to remember anything. No one was. Only I, Dastan, the Lion of Persia was supposed to remember it all.

I suddenly felt light headed as the room spun around me and I fell forwards, falling towards the floor. I caught my collapsing reflection in a mirror and noted the way my face looked a little paler than usual. Then I hit the floor, and everything turned black.

A/N. Well, this was supposed to be a one-shot, but I'm going to do two chapters. And this is pretty short-the next chapter will be longer, I promise.