Disclaimer: I do not own Heroic Legend of Arslan.

THIS IS A REUPLOAD OF THE FIRST CHAPTER. Apparently Fanfiction decided to turn everything that I'd written into code and I didn't catch it until recently. If there are any more problems with the formatting please let me know.

A Second of Regret

When great tragedy and suffering occurs, one often dreams of second chances. A chance to change the past . . . but not Arslan. Never Arslan. No, instead he accepts, learns from his mistakes, and becomes a better person for the future. He never dreamed of that second chance, because he never needed it. Of course, that doesn't stop the reality of waking nearly a year in the past reliving the worst day in his life . . . the day Pars fell.

Chapter 1 – part I

Remember the Past

When you've finally achieved your goal, your dream, what happens next? When there is nothing left to reach for, what do you do?

Arslan let his eyes wander over the horizon, white hair whipping gently against his face. A golden crown rested heavy upon his brow, pinning loose locks against his head in a desperate attempt to keep them in place. In the distance the golden sun stained the sky red as is slowly sunk below the ground.

"It's a little different than I remember it," Arslan said softly, leaning heavily upon the edge of the stone wall that guarded the capital city of Pars.

To think, two years ago he rode out of these very walls to go to war . . . and now here he is, crowned king after forcibly taking the city back. Two years of hard work, learning to be a king, and gathering a group of followers undoubtedly loyal to only him. It all led here, to this wall . . .

He ran his hand over the cold stone, imagining it stained red with the lives of those who fell to protect the city, just as the sun now stained the sky.

"I finally did it. I took back Pars and saved the kingdom. I freed the slaves, protected my people, and drove out the invaders."

His eyes didn't leave the sunset.

"For two years I've been constantly on the move," he chuckled, sadness coloring his voice, "but now that I'm home I don't know what to do."

The wind tugged gently at his clothing as if to comfort him and he smiled softly.

"I guess I'll just have to figure something out," he dipped his head and turned his gaze to the city at his back, smile gentle. A single strand of moon pale hair whipped in front of his face.

"Your Majesty!?" the surprised shout of a patrolling guard startled Arslan for a moment and he turned to the young guard who, as if suddenly realizing who he was facing, snapped to attention. "Your Majesty!" the guard repeated, "I didn't expect to see you this far from the castle without any of your guards."

Arslan smiled calmly and stepped back from the wall. "Don't worry. I was just coming out to see the sunset. It's a little different seeing it from the wall than from the palace."

"Oh, um," the guard fidgeted, "I . . . I see," the guard paused for a moment and then continued, "Will you need an escort back to the castle, Your Majesty?"

Arslan shook his head lightly, "I will be fine. It would be a waste to take you away from your duties." He inclined his head slightly in respect, "Thank you for the offer, but I think I can manage to make it back to the castle without any problems."

The guard hesitated for a few seconds before finally nodding and bowed. "It is an honor to serve you, Your Majesty. Safe Travels."

"You as well," Arslan replied and turned to leave. His eyes were once again drawn to the darkening sky, thoughts drifting away to times long past.

"I wonder what tomorrow will bring?" he whispered softly.

A sudden glint of light from outside the wall caught his eye and Arslan frowned, turning toward the source. "What was-"

A whistle, something heavy impacting his chest, and then red . . .

"Your Majesty!" the distant voice sounded panicked and Arslan wondered briefly why the other seemed so far away. It wasn't like . . .

His thoughts drifted as his eyes focused on the sky and the single star that slowly drew itself from the darkness of the night sky.

I wonder . . . where the stars come from . . . why they only appear in the darkest of times . . .

Everything faded into black.

I wonder . . . why that star . . . is all alone . . .

0~o~0

Blades clashed, sparks flew, and horses screamed as the battled raged around them in an endless direction. Arslan swung his sword in a vicious, whirling arc, trying not to think of the people falling from their horses behind him. Next to him a black shadow charged, breaking the ranks like a shark in a school of fish.

Daryun pulled alongside him with a grin, "Are you holding up, Your Majesty?" he shouted over the sounds of war.

Arslan simply spun, his white war cloak whipping around him as he cut down two soldiers attacking from behind. His eyes flashed with determination as he turned to his protector. "All is well so long as you are here, Daryun."

Nodding to each other they each charged forward. Arslan raised his sword with a loud roar and heard his men rally behind him for one last push toward the walls as the gates began to lift.

"For Pars!" he shouted, and heard it echo back at him from the people at his back.

For my people, his mind whispered, for my friends.

0~o~0

"If you sit in that windowsill all night your neck will become twisted," a young female voice grunted, causing Arslan to turn to the speaker.

"I wasn't going to stay here long, Alfreed," Arslan murmured softly, "I was just thinking about tomorrow . . ."

Alfreed snorted and leaned against the wall next to him, "And thinking about war means that you want your neck crooked when you ride into battle."

Arslan blinked, "Well . . . no. I'm just . . . unsure." He turned his eyes back out to the land that stretched out beyond the walls. "Sometimes I wonder . . . will it be worth it, in the end? All this suffering, all the people that we have lost, because one man wanted the royal family to suffer . . . Am I even doing the right thing? It's not like I have any royal blood to begin with. Do I have any claim to the throne at all? Will it really make a difference if it's me or someone else wearing that crown?"

Alfreed stared out into the open with him for several moments before speaking, "Well, I'm not going to give you some grand speech like the others probably would," she said with a shrug, "but it would be a waste to turn back now."

Arslan blinked slowly at her.

"Well," she tapped her lip with a slight pout and a glint in her eyes, "If you don't become king then who will appoint my Narsus as Court Painter?"

Confused as to what Narsus being Court Painter had to do with Alfreed, Arslan tilted his head and repeated, "Narsus?"

"Yep!" Alfreed grinned, "As his wife-to-be it is only natural that I look out for his best interests, after all. So you had better win this battle," she flashed her eyes at him, "Or I will find a way to stick you on that throne even if I have to drag us both back from the dead."

Her grin widened and she punched him in the shoulder unexpectedly, "Which I am not sure is possible, kid, so don't make me go through with it."

She turned and walked away, her furs swaying back and forth as she vanished around the corner. For a moment Arslan stared after her, surprised at her daring, and then a small smile spread over his lips and a chuckle bubbled from his thin frame.

"Thanks, Alfreed," he whispered softly though she was too far away to hear it. He slipped from the window ledge and glanced at the full moon one last time, "You're a good friend."

0~o~0

"The Djinn are content tonight," Farangis spoke quietly as she approached the young prince who was silently checking over his supplies, "You should get some rest."

Arslan glanced up at her and examined her stoic features. Finding nothing amiss a small smile crooked his mouth and he bowed his head. "I will be in my tent, then. Will you keep watch, Farangis?"

She nodded and placed one fist over her heart, "Nothing shall disturb us this night."

Arslan sighed thankfully and stood to head to his bed. He paused briefly by the elder woman's side, hesitant, before giving her a thankful nod and continuing on his way.

Farangis smiled softly and settled in for a long night, grateful that she had been able to get the young prince to finally rest.

0~o~0

A steaming bowl of soup clacked against the table in the only place not filled with maps or rolls of parchment. Arslan glanced up from his work with a slow blink, his exhaustion showing clear on his face.

Elam glared gently back and tapped the rim of the bowl. "Eat. You haven't had a bite since this morning."

Arslan smiled and picked up the bowl with a thankful huff. As Elam turned to leave Arslan spoke softly, "Thank you, Elam."

Elam paused as the words reached him, and a small smile graced his face.

"You're welcome, Arslan."

0~o~0

"The troops are in position?" Arslan asked nervously atop his white horse as he gazed out over what was to be their battlefield.

Next to him Narsus dipped his head with a small smile. "They are, Prince Arslan."

As the sun slowly broke over the horizon, illuminating the enemy army, Arslan straighten. His eyes hardened with determination. "Right," he muttered and then turned to Narsus, "Thank you Narsus," he smiled, "thank you for staying with me until now."

Narsus smiled back, "It was my pleasure, Arslan."

Together they turned their attention to the approaching army and raised their swords.

The final battle for Pars began with two friends charging together down the slope, an army following at their backs.

0~o~0

Haunting strums of music floated over the quiet battle field. Spears, shields, swords and people lay sprawled over the stained ground. Nothing moved.

"A ghastly sight," the minstrel sighed, "One I had hoped would never become necessary."

He plucked the strings on his instrument again, "A war torn country, a divided family, only one willing to make peace . . ."

Someone leaned against the wall beneath him and Gieve smiled but didn't turn. "Here to see me off, Your Highness?"

Arslan gazed sorrowfully out over the fallen. "You really are leaving, then?"

Gieve nodded, the last strains of music fading away. "It has been quite the adventure traveling with you, but I'm a bit of a wanderer, you see. I can't stay in one place for too long. It gets boring and there are not enough ladies who appreciate my work in just a single city. Even my dear Farangis would bore of me if I stayed too long!"

Arslan bit back a smile and glanced up at the minstrel just as Gieve slide down from the slanted roof and landed beside him. As a loyal friend Arslan knew he would never find a replacement for Gieve. The minstrel was truly one of a kind.

"I'll miss you."

Gieve grinned and shrugged, "Eh, I might come back someday."

"That's good to hear. You will always have a place with us, Gieve," Arslan gulped and bowed his head. "I can't thank you enough for your service to me. You are truly friend who will be remembered for as long as I live."

The two stood in silence for several moments before Gieve offered his hand. Arslan glanced at it in confusion and Gieve shrugged. "In some cultures this is a way of saying goodbye."

Slowly, Arslan raised his own hand and grasped Gieve's in a strong grip. "You'll come back someday?"

Gieve's grip tightened slightly and then let go, "If some poor lad doesn't drive me to my death first," he grinned, "See you later, Arslan."

With those final words Gieve tipped himself over the balcony and caught himself on a lower roof before slipping out of sight. Arslan watched him go sadly before glancing down at his palm where a small pendent rested, placed there when they shook hands.

With shaking hands he unlatched it and watched it click open. Inside was a tiny sketch of everyone. Narsus, Gieve, Farangis, Daryun, Elam, Alfreed all standing in a circle around Arslan who was grinning brightly. Along the bottom of the tiny picture were the even smaller words: Never Forgotten.

A small tear slipped out of Arslan's eye and he clicked the pendant shut and pulled it over his head. He clutched it to his chest with shaking fingers and a small smile.

"Don't worry, Gieve," he murmured softly, "I'll never forget any of you."

0~o~0

The darkness fled abruptly and a cold chill washed over Arslan, causing him to gasp and stumble. A flash of steal at the corner of his vision forced Arslan to dodge and pull his own sword from its sheath. It felt strangely heavy as he parried, but he ignored the feeling. The world around him was stained in fire and chaos. Horses and people alike screamed in fear and his own horse buckled underneath him.

Arslan kicked free from the stirrups before the beast collapsed on top of him, rolling away from flailing hooves. Once a safe distance from his attacker he leaped to his feet and spun, sword at the ready. His eyes widened as his attacker became clear.

"A lucitanian soldier . . ?" Arslan gasped out. "What is going on . . ."

The soldier lunged with his spear and Arslan swung expertly, slicing the tip off. Pulling back, the soldier scowled darkly and reached for his own sword.

"Not bad for a child!" the man hissed, urging his horse toward Arslan at a gallop.

Swords clashed as Arslan reacted instinctively; still dizzy and unsure of what was happening. The soldier raised his arms above his head in order to deliver a devastating blow, leaving a small opening for the prince. A flash of déjà vu swept through him as he scooped up the broken spear tip and drove it into the horses side before diving downward into order to avoid the bow he somehow knew was coming.

"Arg!" the soldier yelled as his swing missed its target and his horse stumbled and started to fall. "Ya heathen. What's a kid like you doing on the battlefield anyway!"

The man rolled away from his horse as it hit the ground and leaped up with a howl of rage. A quick lunge forward toward where the kid stood was all it would take, he knew, before the kid went down. The kid might be clever, but that had nothing on brute strength . . .

Cold metal bit into his chest and the soldier froze, staring down at the child before him. Cold, emotionless eyes stared back. There was no fear, no hesitation. It was as if the child already knew the outcome and was already prepared for the consequences.

"W-who-" the soldier coughed and red splattered along the cold, pale features of his foe, "W-who are y-ou?"

Arslan yanked his sword from the soldier and backed away as the body fell, a frown marring his features.

"I am Arslan, former Prince of Pars, now King," Arslan said coldly.

The man's eyes widened. "P-prince Arslan . . ."

With a final gasp the soldier fell still, and Arslan finally had a moment to order his thoughts. Blinking slowly Arslan turned to take in his surroundings. Now that he wasn't rushing blindly atop his horse he could see that the brilliant red fires obscured most of the battlefield, alone with the near black smoke that it emitted and the all encompassing mist that surrounded him on all sides.

Everything looked . . . strangely familiar. It was as if he were seeing a distant dream brought to life, for no dream could be so realistic.

"Where . . . am I?"

Swallowing thickly, Arslan pulled off his helm and tucked it under his cloak while pulling up his hood to hide his face. It wouldn't do to have a King running around an active battlefield unhorsed and unguarded . . . even if he couldn't really figure out how he got here. Stumbling forward he picked a direction and forced himself to continue forward. It was best not to stay on the battlefield, especially since . . .

I was talking to the guard atop that wall. We'd said our goodbyes and I was turning to leave . . .

Wait . . .

Something . . . something hit me in the chest . . .

A single gloved hand clutched at the spot over his heart, feeling a phantom pain as his breath quickened.

An arrow . . . I was dying . . .

With a jerk of his hand he pulled his armor and shirt away from his chest enough that he could look down at his bare skin.

Nothing.

Not even a scar.

What is . . . what is going on?

"Crown Prince Arslan!" a voice suddenly shouted from the mist, "Speak so that I can find you!"

Arslan froze.

That voice.

"Prince Arslan! Where are you!"

Carlan . . .

Before he could consider his actions Arslan dropped to the ground near one of the dead and pulled their body over his, making sure that his distinctive armor, cloak, and hair were out of sight under the larger figure.

"I'm sorry for this," he whispered softly, "but until I can figure out what is going on I can't be found."

Horses clattered forward over broken soil and rocks, coming close enough that if Arslan dared turn his head to look he might see the group of men passing him even with the mist obscuring his vision.

"Are you sure that he's still alive, Sir?" one man spoke up, his voice echoing on the strangely quiet battlefield, "In all the chaos it is likely that he fell prey to Lusitarians. He was only a child, after all."

"Quiet, Gwendel!" Carlan growled, "The brat is alive, you can be sure of that."

The man swallowed heavily, "How do we know, though?"

Carlan's horse came to a stop, and Arslan could almost see him glaring at the man who'd spoken up. "Do we have his body?"

"N-no, Sir."

"Then he's not dead," Carlan growled, ending the conversation, "Now be quiet and keep listening."

The men went quiet and the continued on their way, completely ignorant of the boy they were searching for hidden beneath the body of another soldier just a few yards away. Arslan's eyes were wide as he desperately held his breath.

Carlan is dead . . . I saw him die. I know he's dead . . .

That was Carlan. Carlan is searching for me . . . he called me Prince Arslan . . . Carlan is alive.

Arslan moved the body off of his person as soon as the calls of his name faded and pushed himself to his feet.

I don't know what is happening or why I am here, Arslans eyes flashed, but I do know that I need to get off of this battlefield, then I can figure out what is going on.

Standing on shaky legs Arslan carefully pulled his cloak around him tightly, silently wishing that it wasn't so white. On the other hand, maybe that was a good thing with all of this mist. It would be harder to spot someone in white rather than black.

"First thing's first," Arslan turned his head to the distant sounds of a horse neighing, in the opposite direction that Carlan had gone, "I need to acquire a horse."

0~o~0

As mentioned in my other stories, this may never be completed. I am just uploading the stories that have been sitting on my computer for forever. There is a portion (a very small portion) of the next chapter written, but unless I decide to continue to write on this story it might never get posted.

AGAIN: IF ANYONE WANTS TO ADOPT THIS STORY PLEASE PM ME AND HAVE TWO NEW CHAPTERS FOR THIS STORY WRITTEN. I don't want to have someone just repost everything that I've done and then do nothing with it. I've had that done to me before on a different story. If you are going to adopt, please be ready to make a commitment to the story idea.

Please let me know what you think!