Fiction: Principal Training 1/2

[tidia.livejournal.com]

Title: Principal Training
Prompt: None
Summary: Dastan is new to the palace and has to catch up with his brothers when it comes to schooling and weapons training.
Author: tidia
Rating: T
Chapters: 1/2
Word Count: 1087
Character(s):Dastan, Garsiv, Tus, Nizam
Pairing(s):None

Palace life was more than Dastan expected.

He did not realize that being the adopted son of the King would mean fine clothes and an education.  Actually, he didn’t know what he thought; he only knew that he was given an opportunity.  His new father had high expectations for him, and he wanted to be worthy.

As much as he did not like studying, his tutors said he had a sharp mind.  He had to master reading and writing. Cyrus, the tutor, reminded him that one had to be quick in the mind to be quick in battle.  Dastan never wanted the King to believe he was dumb.

When he first arrived his Uncle Nizam arranged for him to learn how to ride a horse.  The next step was weaponry, which Dastan was the most interested.  This is where he could prove to his new family that he could be a great soldier in battle. 

However, he became crestfallen when he saw the training would be done under the tutelage of Thuxra, The Captain of the Guard.  The gleam in Thuxra’s eyes let Dastan know the Captain had not forgotten the merry chase he had been led on, nor the embarrassment at being reprimanded by the King.

“You do not belong here street rat.” Thuxra announced once they were alone.

Dastan held steadfast, accepting what Thuxra asked of him each day.  It was torture, being required to hold positions and not move for hours, or repeating the same movement for a long period of time until it was done to the Captain’s unattainable level.

He bore the Captain’s displeasure each day, exhausted.  No one noticed Dastan’s struggle as he interacted with his new brothers Tus and Garsiv, hoping they would like him.  He wished he could train with them.

He went on the balcony of his room, looking out onto the city. It was before the evening repast when Dastan was supposed to be changing into cleaner clothing.  “I need to think,” he said to the night air.

“Are you talking to yourself?” Tus pulled back the drape to reveal himself.  Dastan had not heard him entering.

“No. Yes.” Dastan tried to exert control over his thoughts about the Captain of the Guard. He did not know how he could continue at this pace.

Tus clasped his hands behind him. “Princes do not talk to themselves.”

He wasn’t in the mood to jest since he was distracted, “Yes, Tus.”

But Tus wanted to play, “Unless-do you give yourself the right answers?”

Dastan forced a smile. “I hope so.” He would have asked for help. But his so-called brothers did not seem to be happy with him all the time, still adjusting to his presence. Dastan did not want to press his luck and be the annoying brother who could not solve his problems.  He couldn’t always run to his family.

On the balcony he liked to sit on the railing, back against the wall and relax.  He fell asleep between the time Tus left him and Garsiv had a grip on his arm. “You fell asleep on the balcony!  You could have fallen over and then know who would have been at fault?”

“Me?”  Dastan hopped down, but Garsiv didn’t remove his grip.

“No, Tus and myself. Father would have punished us.” Garsiv pushed him towards the bedroom.  “Get ready. We’re expected.”

Dastan tried not to be distracted during the meal. He did want anyone to know there was something amiss.  One glance at his father kept him grounded. He wanted to stay here among his new family. He would fight to stay.

The next day he still had no answers, filled with a mixture of determination and dread, he went to training circle with trepidation of what Thuxra had planned.

“In battle there is limited space to move.  You will be unable to climb away, but you will still be attacked.” Thuxra tied one of his ankles to the wood pillar.  He could move two steps before he was hampered. He had to also be careful not to loop around the pillar.

Thuxra tossed him the wooden sword, then began his attack with his own wooden sword.  Dastan paid attention to the attack, his hair damp with sweat.  Although Thuxra was not praising him, Dastan knew he was holding his own.  He felt confident, even with his limitation, until the Captain of the Guard backed away, threw the wooden sword and pulled out his real sword.

The metal gleamed wickedly.  Dastan swallowed his nervousness. “Do I get my own blade?”

Thuxra did not reply, and started his attack, chipping away at the wooden sword that Dastan offered in defense. Dastan became alarmed as pieces of the sword fell away from the assault. He would have laughed at the absurdity. He was going to lose a hand to the man who wanted to originally cut it off in the marketplace.

“Stop!” He heard a voice call out.  “Stop!”

Thuxra had the sword held high, but upon hearing the voice brought it down slowly, finally halting and bringing it to his side.

Dastan sighed, he had never been so happy to see Garsiv. 

“What is going on here?” Garsiv made his way into the ring to stand between Thuxra and Dastan.

Thuxra bowed. “Prince Garsiv, we are working on Prince Dastan’s swordsmanship.”

Garsiv glanced at the sword at Thuxra’s side, then to the rope tied to Dastan’s ankle. “Not like that. I was never trained that way.”

“You did not have bad habits that needed to be broken, my Prince.” Thuxra bowed again.

Garsiv sighed, waving his hand in a dismissal of the comment. “My father is expecting us, Dastan come with me.”

Dastan untied himself from the post, not waiting for Thuxra to release him.  They made their way in a hurried pace to the palace, once there Garsiv pulled him aside to a deserted hallway.   “Dastan, are you all right?”

“I am well.” Dastan moved towards the exit.  “I thought Father was expecting us.”

Garsiv placed his arm up to block Dastan’s way. “I used that as an excuse.” Garsiv started to pace.  “I do not understand. Thuxra was using a real blade and looked about to kill you.”

One part of Dastan wanted his family to know and to help him, the other part was hesitant.  “It is just training.”

Garsiv shook his head, he did not believe Dastan’s story. “No. You need to tell Father.”

“No.” This time Dastan did pull away. 

“Why not?” Garsiv was dumbfounded.

Dastan lowered his voice, kicked at the floor before answering, “They will all hate me.”

“Who?” Garsiv was impatient on most days, but he had never been threatened within the palace walls. This was new to him.

“The guards, the soldiers,” Dastan explained. If he were to speak about Thuxra, then the Captain would be punished. The guards would blame Dastan, and make it uncomfortable for him.

At least Garsiv was pensive and did not reply that it did not matter if he was well liked or not.  “We are at least going to tell Tus.”

“Can you not leave this between the two of us?” Dastan asked, bordering on begging.  He wished Garsiv did not know about his plight.

“No.” Garsiv began pulling him along through the palace.  No one stopped the two princes, thwarted by the fierceness of Dastan’s older brother.

They made it to Tus’s door, but Dastan was adamant about not entering. “I can handle the Captain.”

Garsiv ignored him, knocked once, then entered. “Not alone, little brother and neither do you have to.”

The servants were dismissed from the room, and Tus listened to Garsiv. Dastan went outside in the balcony, distancing himself from the story, but he didn’t leave.  He saw all the opportunities, two steps, a leap and he would be out, but as much as he protested it warmed him that his adopted brothers cared.

“It’s unacceptable.” There was the sound of a chair against the floor, and then Tus appeared at the balcony. “He should be punished.”

Garsiv followed behind.

Dastan sat on the balcony with a quick glance down. “It’s not so bad.  He doesn’t like me because I embarrassed him at the bazaar.”

“You are a son of the King now, Dastan. He needs to put the pettiness away or be punished for it.”

“He is afraid no one will like him,” Garsiv added with a snort. It was obvious he did not care about such trivial matters.

Dastan shook his head.  “They have to like you.  You were born here, born a prince, but I’m different.”

Tus turned his head towards Garsiv, then turned back to Dastan, “I know we have not been as kind to you as we should be.”

Dastan shrugged, jumping down from his seat. “You were already a family and I am an outsider.” Dastan squared his shoulders. “I will prove myself.”

Tus gave him a half smile, then tousled Dastan’s hair. “You already have proven yourself to the highest authority- our father.”

Dastan raked a hand through his hair.  His adopted brothers did not understand. “It’s not enough. You did not ask for a new brother, one who is not of your blood.  I have to prove myself to both of you, too, and the others.  They are all looking for me to make a mistake.”

Tus rubbed a hand down his face. “He has a point.”

Garsiv was stunned, his mouth opening and closing before he found his voice, “That does not make a difference. We need to help him.”

“Will you give us a chance to help you, to think of a plan?”

“Yes, if you wish.” Dastan didn’t want to seem too eager, but his ideas had not been working so maybe his brothers would.