You thought you had destroyed me.

A pathetic wail echoed in the Prince’s mind.

But when you left, you gave me the chance to to nurture my strength unhindered.

The Prince turned over in his sleep, his forehead creasing.

Without you, I can grow as powerful as I desire.

He began to murmur things, nonsense, anxiously.

Nothing will stop me from taking all I wanted before.

The Prince cried out.

“What, what is it?” Farah mumbled, as alarmed as a half-conscious person can be. “What’s wrong?”

The Prince shivered beside her. “Just a bad dream. Sorry for waking you.”

She turned over, her breathing soon deepening once again. He, however, couldn’t seem to get back to sleep. He knew his nemesis was gone, but weeks later the shadow still haunted his mind. Surely there was no reason to worry; the Dark Prince could not possibly return.

~

It had felt only natural for the Prince’s friendship with Farah to deepen after they defeated the Vizier. They had been through so much together, and this time, she remembered their ordeals when they were over. The two began a normal courtship and planned to be married in the following months.

Farah’s parents thought she was sleeping in the suite across from theirs. She had waited outside the entrance to their bedroom until she heard her father’s snores and then crept across the palace to the Prince’s chambers, where she was eagerly received. In the morning she would wake early and sneak back to the set of guest rooms designated as hers for the duration of the Indians’ visit. Then she and her parents would join the Prince and his family for breakfast, perhaps out in the gardens since it looked to be a pleasant day, and the two lovers would try to keep their smiles secret. After their adventures, they enjoyed sharing that bit of excitement and danger. It was always a thrill for Farah to run as quietly as possible down the cold corridors in her softest slippers, finally arriving breathless at the Prince’s door.

Rolling over, she was surprised to find the bed too roomy. “Prince?”

A rustle of fabric. “I’m here,” a voice called before its owner became visible, peeking out shirtless from behind a curtain.

Farah smiled. “Good to see you haven’t run off on some adventure while I was asleep.”

The Prince kissed her cheek. “I think my adventuring days are over, Farah.”

“Really?” The princess sounded disappointed. “I might miss that noble hero… although I had to do the rescuing more than once.” She smirked.

“Oh, don’t worry, princess,” the Prince said with a wink. “I’m still just as noble and heroic as ever.”

“Can you be, without any crises to solve or great wrongs to right?” she wondered.

“No viziers to defeat?”

She shuddered. “I hope not.”

“Twice was enough,” he agreed.

As the Prince finished dressing, Farah sat on his bed in contemplative silence for a few minutes before saying with a sigh, “I should go before my parents get suspicious.”

The Prince nodded. “We wouldn’t want any trouble.”

~

The day proceeded almost exactly as Farah had predicted. After an outdoor breakfast of flatbread and knowing looks, the two families took a walk through the palace gardens. Farah and the Prince managed to slip away and have a private walk of their own, outside the gardens and back in to the palace.

As they roamed the corridors, the sound of King Sharaman’s proud voice wound through the stone passages ahead of him and gave the lovers enough warning to duck into the library and close the heavy doors, avoiding discovery a little longer. The Prince pulled Farah through the rows upon rows of dusty books, winding ever further inward, before pinning her against a bookcase and kissing her excited giggles into silence.

A dry but pointed cough halted their frivolity. Simultaneously their faces broke apart and whipped around toward the sound, which came from a man who looked almost as old as the library. He was sitting at a table a ways down the aisle, attempting to read a book. Farah tightened her grip on the Prince’s hand. He gave hers a reassuring squeeze and walked toward the old man, who rose creakily from his chair to give a slow, aching bow.

“Forgive our intrusion,” the Prince said with a polite nod, calm and dignified as ever. “Tell me, Old Man, do you have any words of wisdom to offer me today?”

The Old Man squinted and pursed his lips under a thinning white beard. “Only that you are acting rather imprudent, highness,” he admonished. “Let us hope your foolishness causes only small blunders, from which you may learn good judgement and sense appropriate for nobility.”

The Prince smiled. Farah could sense the rapport between the two men, like a blanket worn thin and ragged with fond use. “Have I introduced you to my fiancйe?”

The Old Man shook his head. “Your words to me have been few indeed since you cleared up that trouble with the Sands.”

“In that case,” the Prince said grandly, “Let me introduce Her Royal Highness Princess Farah of India.”

The Old Man began to bow, but Farah reached out to stay his groaning back, smiling. “My Prince tells me you have been a great help to him, even since he was small.”

The Old Man replied with a measure of wizened humility, “I do what I can for this good country.” His eyes squinted tighter. “Give me your hand, daughter.” Farah complied. He studied the light golden thing with eyes grown tiny in dark sockets, moving his fingers shakily over her smooth skin. “Your beauty will endure to old age and will be carried on by your children,” he told her. “You will have a life rich in those treasures which matter – joy, passion, love.”

Farah smiled as he dropped her hand. “Your mentor has a true gift,” she marvelled to the Prince. Her fiancй laid a hand on the Old Man’s shoulder and opened his mouth to speak parting words. But when he touched the Old Man, the elder’s eyes grew wide and he gripped the Prince’s hand. “Prince,” he said in a peculiar wheezing voice, as if the words drained him. “be vigilant. The enemy is still near. That which you fear may rise again to strike you.”

Horror filled the Prince’s features. “No,” he said. “He’s gone.”

The Old Man shook his head slowly, sadly. “He is a part of you. He never left.”

“But…” The Prince struggled for words. “What must I do to be rid of his foul presence?”

“I cannot say. Only: do not grow careless. Be wary that your enemy waits to prey on vulnerabilities. I will do what I can to divine a method for his destruction. Go now. Remain alert, but do not let the thought of that evil one consume you.”

As they left the library, the Prince said not a word to Farah, only walked in troubled silence. She hurried to keep up with his grim steps. “Last night,” she ventured, “is that what—”

“Yes,” came the curt reply.

Farah stopped walking. After a few seconds, the Prince turned to see her standing with her hands on her hips, glaring at him. He sighed. “Now is not the time, Farah.”

“The time for what? You to tell me what’s going on?” She stood there stubbornly as he took a step toward her.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he said heavily. “I thought it—he—it was gone.”

After a flash of pity, the sharpness left her eyes, leaving only intense frustration. They walked together out into the gardens, in the hopes that the lively foliage would provide some cheer. The Prince told her wearily that he couldn’t feel any traces of his dark counterpart during his waking hours, but at night the evil one crept into his dreams and tormented him with possibilities. Even months after the Vizier’s defeat, the Prince had not yet recovered from the horror of having his body subjugated and his mind besieged by what was, in terrifying reality, a part of himself. He remembered all too well Farah’s initial fear and revulsion upon discovering that weakness, and he saw traces of those on her face now, although she tried bravely to mask them with compassion. Now she held him and told him it would be alright, and he tried very hard to believe her.

~

It was difficult, to say the least, for two such lively individuals to accept that nothing could be done. They tried mystical rituals for driving out demons and queer-smelling potions meant to cleanse one’s soul, but the Old Man merely shook his head when the couple came to him with hopeful faces. The only thing they could do was to try and resume a normal life.

The Prince’s continual nightmares made forgetting the matter impossible; he fancied they were coming more frequently. Both he and Farah began to perceive every hint of a negative emotion the former felt as belonging to the edge of a terrifying shadow. The Prince winced every time he felt an itch in his right arm, while Farah grew averse to touching the rough white scars around his wrist. Farah’s attempts to dote on him in other ways only resulted in accusations that she was smothering him. After that, the two were short with each other and conversations turned into bickering more often than not. The Prince suspected that it would only be a matter of time before his life was no longer his own. Farah argued that his brooding despondency was allowing it to happen in the present. He would snap that she didn’t understand what it was like, and she would bite back that that was his fault for keeping her too far away to help him. He’d insist there was nothing she could do to help, to which she would give some plaintive reply which he would dismiss as sentimental womanly nonsense, and one or both of them would grow too frustrated to bear the other’s presence any longer.

So it went for some weeks. The Prince would mope in his chambers while Farah stewed or quietly wept in hers. Seeing her lover suffer was no less painful than being driven away by him. The past ought to be behind them, she believed; it wasn’t fair.

~

It was one of the last nice days in autumn. Farah decided to go out into the surrounding hanging gardens before the vines withered away. They were really a wonderful sight, and she tried to enjoy the beauty despite her sharp awareness of being alone.

Before they could properly sink into melancholy, her thoughts were interrupted by two strong arms grabbing her about the waist from behind. She screamed in surprise. A matching hand went over her mouth and she heard delighted laughter.

“Farah, you ridiculous girl, it’s just me!” The arms released their grasp on her and she whirled around to face the Prince, whose mischievous grin was a bizarre contrast to the gloom and anger that had filled his expression of late.

“What’s gotten into you?” she marvelled.

He answered her with a long, hard kiss – the first in far too long, she thought wistfully – before saying, “I thought it was time I became more appreciative of what I have.” He stroked her face with his thumb and cupped her chin almost possessively.

The princess was baffled and not a little angry. How could he push her away and ignore her for so long and then expect her to simply melt at his touch? (Although, she hated to admit, she was melting, just a little.) The Maharajah’s daughter was not one to be toyed with.

She flicked his hand away and placed her own firmly on her hip. “Something’s different about you,” she said, “and I want to know what.”

“Farah, darling, my love,” the Prince wheedled. “Is it so wrong for a man to take a second look at what’s important to him? Especially when he realizes his beautiful fiancйe” – he kissed her cheek here – “is at the top of that list?”

The words were perfect, but… but nothing, Farah scolded herself. You could learn something about appreciation too. She didn’t know how long this merry streak of his would last, but she would enjoy it while it did.

~

You won’t get away with this!

“Your noble words have never been emptier,” the Dark Prince purred.

Farah will never believe you’re me.

“No? Well, I think she will be nonetheless pleasantly surprised at the change. Think, a fiancй who gets things done rather than sitting about moping all the time.”

She could never love a villain!

“Prince, Prince, always so lofty and romantic,” the Dark Prince sighed. “Love is completely beside the point here. I don’t need her affection to get what I want from her.”

A horrified pause in the Prince’s indignant tirade. You wouldn’t.

“Oh come off it. You know I would, but do you really think I would aim so low? I’m going to get more than a night or two of fun out of your little darling.”

The voice sank into an incensed silence. The Dark Prince chuckled to himself; everything was going splendidly.

~

Farah had never been happier. The Prince told her he had decided there was no sense worrying about his inner demons if there was nothing he could do about them, and he couldn’t have been gladder for it. Moreover, he was sweeping Farah off her feet at every turn. Rarely would a day pass that did not bring some delightful romantic gesture for her to enjoy.

“I believe I’m falling in love with him all over again,” Farah sighed happily to her friend Sumati.

“I still think it’s all just a scheme to get you into his bed,” Sumati declared, not a little enviously.

Farah gave the girl a little shove. “So what if it is? Why shouldn’t I enjoy it?” She thought she heard Sumati mutter randi under her breath, but chose to ignore it. “Anyway the point is that we’re having a wonderful courtship and I’m happy.”

“For now,” Sumati said.

~

The Dark Prince paced in his chambers, scheming about the usual diabolical plans. He was interrupted by knock at the door. Morphing his scowl into a smile, he answered it. Farah stood there, nearly glowing with excitement. “Darling,” he gushed. “Won’t you come in?”

After a kiss hello, she did so joyfully, seating herself on his bed. He closed the door behind her. “I was going over the guest list for the wedding with my mother,” she began. The Dark Prince stifled a reflexive eye-roll. Women and their wedding plans. “And we came to a bit of sticky spot with your Uncle Fozhan. It would be a shame if he wasn’t welcome. Do you really never speak to him?”

Vivid memories drifted up from the Prince’s mind before the Dark Prince was forced to scramble for an answer. Of course we don’t speak to him. The man is drunk by noon and as loud twenty running horses and he tries to get our cousins into his bed. All in all a terribly inexpert follower of the hedonistic way, the Dark Prince thought disdainfully. “No, dear, I’m afraid my mother’s side of the family is rather ashamed to be related to him. We try to leave out Fozhan whenever possible.”

The naпve girl looked disappointed. “It really is a pity everyone can’t be as happy as us on our special day.”

He kissed her forehead. “Of course, darling. We must make some sacrifices.”

She nodded. “I’ll tell my mother to leave Fozhan off the guest list.” She stood to leave.

Without rising, he gripped her arm as gently as he could manage. “Stay a while,” he purred, his other hand creeping up the side of her bare leg.

She smiled but arrested his wandering hand. “Not now. I want to get the invitations finished.”

“You’d leave your poor husband-to-be lonely and unsatisfied for a few letters?” He bent down and kissed her leg, pleased to feel her shiver.

But for all her sensual allure, the princess had the will of an ox. “You promised me we’d wait until our wedding night. I want to do this properly.”

With difficulty, the Dark Prince fought the intense urge to force her down onto the bed – she was a skinny little thing and he could do it easily, he knew. Anyway, hadn’t they already…? Yes but no. Technically it didn’t happen, and she doesn’t remember.

He waited a few moments to gain control of himself before releasing her arm. She frowned, rubbing at the white mark left behind. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying not to gag on the words. “You’re just so irresistible.”

Farah crossed her arms, but she couldn’t help smiling. With a light kiss – far too light – she bid him goodbye and left him to simmer in his own lust.

~

“Sumati,” a troubled Farah asked her friend, “am I asking too much of the Prince to control himself until we’re married? He seems to be having a hard time of it.”

“Of course he is,” Sumati retorted. “Men are animals. It’s up to us to maintain some kind of control.”

“Well,” Farah said awkwardly. “Well. I’m not having the easiest time myself.”

“Farah!” Sumati shushed her. “Don’t let his sweet words get to you. And above all, don’t let him know.”

“But I really love him,” Farah confessed.

“Love has nothing to do with it,” Sumati said primly. “You’ll have children after you’re securely married.”

Farah sighed. “But the date is so close.”

Sumati nodded. “The wedding will be here before you know it. Just be patient.”

~

“It’s too bloody far away, is what,” the Dark Prince muttered to himself once the door was closed. “I can’t play Prince Charming with that soppy brat much longer.”

From inside his mind came the now-embittered voice of the true Prince: Farah is my brat. If you’ve tired of her, I’ll be glad to resume the role of charming lover.

“Very funny,” the Dark Prince snorted. “But you weren’t exactly a model of courtly devotion. Those tend to do a lot less moping and a lot more wooing.”

Well, I’d finished with the wooing. She was as wooed as she’d ever be.

“And then it’s just a matter of waiting until the wedding?”

Not for me. I was enjoying the courtship until you came along. A smirk crept into the mental voice. You know, it wouldn’t hurt to balance out some of your wickedness with a little patience. I’m sure the other demons wouldn’t think less of you.

The Dark Prince snarled and swept his arm across the nearest table. Metal bowls and things clattered to the floor. Something ceramic shattered.

He cursed loudly. “I don’t need patience. I need this wedding to happen sooner.” Only then could he establish proper control over the spirited princess and her estate. The self-righteous voice in his ear wasn’t helping to speed things along. At least the wimp had stopped trying to fight his way out. “My dear better half, I’m glad you have the good sense to resign yourself to your fate, but I liked you better when you were sulky.”

I’ve learned a thing or two over the years about changing my fate.