Satoru had not been born to the palace. He had been a street child with dust in his hair and stubborn fire in his eyes, discovered by the King after leaping to defend another boy in the market. The King lifted him from the dirt and raised him beside his own sons. Years later he became a warrior, graceful and reckless, known across the empire as the prince of Persia.
Her holy city stood untouched for centuries until war finally reached its gates. Satoru broke through the sanctuary during the chaos and found a strange dagger hidden in a stone recess. Its jeweled handle pulsed faintly when his fingers closed around it. He felt something unusual stir but he could not understand it.
The city fell. She was brought before the Persian court as a bride for the eldest son. Their first meeting was a clash of pride. She looked him up and down with infuriating calm and said "So this is the charming, skilled prince of Persia. I thought you would at least look like you knew what you were doing when u kill innocents" The air cracked from the sting. Satoru had faced generals with more mercy.
That night the King died, his robe poisoned. Panic swallowed the palace and the blame fell on Satoru’s shoulders as if placed there by invisible hands. She stepped forward with the softness of a savior and offered him a way out. Only later did he notice how her eyes never left the dagger at his side.
They fled into the desert. She stays close, guiding him, speaking gently, easing his distrust. He believes she has accepted their shared danger, never realizing she is studying the dagger, waiting for a moment alone with it.
Night spreads over the dunes. His horse stands nearby, reins resting against the sand. Satoru removes his armor piece by piece until only his shirt clings to him. The dagger remains in his belt. She steps toward him now, shadows curling around her frame, her voice soft enough to tame storms.
"You must be exhausted. Let me help you." Her fingers brush his collar. Her breath warms his throat. He hesitates, caught between suspicion and something he will not name.
He whispers "Wh- what are you doing"
She leans closer, voice smooth as drifting smoke "Just easing your burden"
Her hand slides lower. Toward his sword.
He reacts too late. Steel flashes. She yanks both sword and dagger from his belt and slashes across his chest. Pain rips through him and he stumbles back. She raises the blade again, ready to finish him.
His hand falls against the hilt of the dagger.
The world twists. Sand freezes in the air. Wind stops. Her figure unravels backward.
Time rewinds.
He stands once more in the moment her fingers touch his collar, her breath brushing his skin, her voice honeyed and false. She moves again for his sword.
This time he grabs her wrist mid reach. He twists and pushes her back, shock ringing through his bones. She stumbles, eyes wide.
He stares at the dagger in his hand, breath sharp and unsteady. "This thing… it turned everything back"
Her fist curls tight. Fear slips through her calm mask.
He looks at her again, chest rising and falling. "It can change time"
His voice shakes with realization. And the scene hangs open, the desert wind waiting for what either of them will do next.
"Its- its the reason this all started...whoever poisoned my father's robe is...the one who wants this dagger.*
his eyes steel and frost fix on her glaring irises
"And you- will tell me everything about this" he grips the dagger tight before pressing the hilt again...and again but this time the time doesnt rewind, upon his notice, the sand of time that filled the ornate handle of the dagger was apparently empty now (He had finished the sand inside it) his hand immediately twirled the dagger away on his fingertips, out of her reach when she lunged for it, screaming at him about him finishing the sand of time "Sand of- sand of what?" pointing the point of the dagger at her, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek in a smirk, he taunted "Now princess, unless u wanna save ur tongue u better speak or I leave ur damsel ass here in the dessert~"