First off a huge thanks to flufffmufffin, Noah, Akumarayne, moonyazu9, arekusu or alex, Katerine5, Little D. Xylie, felisceleris, stranger-san and JustHope for their reviews, and anyone else favouriting, following and...otherwise thus far. And for your patience, lol.

Revision/ rewrite is now complete. And I'll be updating again shortly. Having OCDness about such things is good, highly caffienated fun.

I'm sorry for the wait, and enjoy~

Calm of the Tempest

First Night: The Final Ritual

"It's over, oracle; for now at least. We lost. The palace falls as we speak..."

That wasn't the most helpful answer to his question, really. The tall man of Al-Thamen continued to usher Judal away from the tantalising sounds of battle raging above them. Down the spiral of darkened steps they went, with no light save that from his companion's staff to think he was missing it. That those very sounds were of – his – battle, and he was made to miss it. "And so the time comes to put Gyokuen's plan into action..."

Judal couldn't really remember what the plan was, or even if he had been told. He simply continued to follow that black magician of the Organisation which had raised him, regardless of what his thoughts were. One way or another, he was made to endeavour what it was Al-Thamen desired of him. And that would never change, even if they were gone from his world.

The two descended to the chambers below the besieged palace of Kou. The very chambers which, in large part, remained a not so closely guarded secret. Judal groaned involuntarily, as he knew all too well what that that meant. Another – yes, yet another – of those damned rituals. And when he could be enjoying his war and fighting no less. How...frustrating. He really wasn't going to fight at all upon that night.

Judal just knew better than to comment on it. Gone when the days he asked such questions, even if he wished to know the answers. As such, he hadn't even asked that man what his name was. The odds are he didn't care. And for the ominous figure to refer to him simply as "oracle", he doubted it matters. No, to Judal it was – yet – another weirdo of Al-Thamen. Complete with the dead eyes, a veil to conceal his appearance and a blunt, cold demeanour. And he had expected nothing less.

He quickened his pace, even if his ruby eyes kept glancing upwards apprehensively. Both blind and curious, he just wished to be amidst what lay above him. That mingled chiming of metal and song of war called to him, like a month to a flame. Its rukh brushed his skin, teasing him with something he couldn't have, and making him increasingly annoyed to not see it.

He guessed it was impressive, the siege by Reim laying waste to his home and all he knew. The defeat, it seemed, of Al-Thamen and the failure of the goals they had looked to attain throughout the Magi's time. And even before his lifetime. How surprised he was when instead of being granted a place on the front line, he was taken down here. All but dragged to the secret tunnels beneath the palace, and denied the pleasure of freezing his enemy to a wall.

This was...too annoying. Clearing his voice, Judal spoke up. "...You know, if I go up there I could win. I mean, how tough can a Fanalis army be, anyway?"

"Stronger than you'd think," the reply came. "But it doesn't matter; Kou has served its purpose. It matters not if it falls tonight..."

He knew that made sense, as Al-Thamen were keen enough to discard all which was no longer useful. He, however, was too valuable to cast aside. Especially with Ren Gyokuen being killed in the siege. The two took their final step, and Judal entertained himself by spinning his ruby-tipped sceptre deftly between his slim fingers. "...Whatever, then. It's just kind of weird with that old witch dead as she always performed those weird rituals on me..." he paused and scanned over the shadowy person. "...You do know what you're doing, right?"

"...You didn't know, oracle?" the magician bustled forward in a flurry of robes now they were down at the foot of those stone steps. He was gripping that heavy, splintering door and with a laboured breath heaved it open. "...Gyokuen lives..."

"...Huh?" Judal's eyes widened. He stashed away his sceptre and crossed into the room, ignoring the man glaring at him whilst he still worked on that damned door. "Really? Are you sure? Because I kind of saw that hag go up in smoke, you know..."

Clearly not getting a hand with the door, the magician glared and commanded it to close behind him via what little magic he had left. Like a chilling twisting of ravens, power erupted from the man's staff, pulling the door closed in a loud and groaning crack of thunder. "Yes, oracle, we're sure."

"You guys just don't stay dead, do you?" he grinned. "So where is she, then?"

"That's not your concern. You just need to focus on this ritual," ...really? Such a boring answer. "She's recovering in her real form beyond this world. As our most of us. Rest assured I've memorised everything she ordered me to do. And said you'd do nicely for this ritual if she couldn't do it."

That didn't sound too reassuring. . "So what is this ritual about, then?"

"You don't need to know about that. It will be all too apparent though; in several months time..."

...What the heck did that mean? He sighed, and shrugged. "Fine. Just don't mess it up then. Whatever it is..."

So it seemed the apparently not-so-dead-witch had plans for this. And for him. Somehow, Judal didn't find that too surprising. He, of course, never asked of such things too much. His attaining power and fighting had been fun, actually fun. Whatever weird and fanatical goals his Organisation had to please their damned father didn't interest Judal in the slightest.

Even so, it was pointless even if he did ask. Those rituals took their toll on his mind and body. He would forget things – important things – and usually never remembered the hours spent in their ritual chambers. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what, exactly, those strange people did. This man said he knew what he was doing, so that was something. Still...he'd have loved to fight. And especially to fight his lover at a time like this...

Judal drew forward into the cold chamber, his bare feet chilled against the stone beneath them. Not so long ago he knew that place had been filled with the jeers and enthusiastic boasts of Al-Thamen's dark promises and plots to aid their Father. The crowd of darkly clothed and anonymous people which had watched Judal intently, since his childhood, each time he was brought there. He remembered such a creepy thing. Every time Gyokuen had administered their rituals, it had been to the same loud and faceless audience.

Looking to the lone, dark altar above him, this time was different. Aside from his soft steps, he was met with silence. And now, for the first time since Judal was old enough to remember everything, everything was so quiet. So dark, so vacant, almost as if after this night the chamber would never be used, and would fall to – further – disrepair.

And for some reason, he felt almost pleased about that.

The coldness of the room didn't last long, however. Increasingly Judal was aware of his body attracting the flowing tides of all the black rukh in the world towards him, and they enveloped him like black fire. He, as a Magi, was loved by them after all. And with so many of Al-Thamen dead or...otherwise, they seemed to be seeking him out. His body was fevered, burning with their power. And it felt amazing. Amazing and wasted, given where he was.

He didn't think about it. He watched the magician raise his staff, and the wide circles of candles adorning the room erupt into a rude blasé of light. One by one, and little and little, the engulfing shadows retreated. The light flooding and spilling over the neglected, empty pews just made the chamber seem larger and more abandoned of its usual audience of thousands.

That nameless, and perhaps last, man of Al-Thamen stood behind him. He plucked the sceptre from where Judal had stashed it away in his clothing, his cold fingers lingering at the Magi's bare lower back before pressing him roughly forward. At the heart of the circular chamber, Judal stumbled heavily on to that altar he had laid upon so many times. He didn't react however, and watched the magician pocket his sceptre before pressing on his chest to coax him to lie down on its cracked surface. He obliged, as right now that cold felt increasingly welcoming against his feverish skin.

"Hey!" he protested as that stoic figure set to binding his wrists in iron shackles to the altar. He shifted uncomfortably, yet was ignored. The magician moved away, to apparently bind his ankles, too. Those usually lifeless eyes seemed alive with panic. As if the Al-Thamen magician knew, as Judal did, the melody of war was forever growing closer and he needed to do this quickly. "That's binding me too tight, you know! Loosen them!"

"You don't command me, oracle," the reply came. "But you are our last hope. Gyokuen for now is beyond this world. You'll be instrumental for her return, our return. We're relying on you, now."

He felt...strange, being told that. But then Judal didn't entirely like Al-Thamen that much. He liked them less if they did...this rather than allow him to fight. To win. Because they were idiots, Reim was currently breaking through. The crackling of magic and the shattering of steel drew ever closer. Yet this person guarding him seemed to think there was more beyond this. That Al-Thamen still had a future in their world. It was as curious as the fact Ren Gyokuen yet lived.

It was enough to make that damned magician panic. Judal, however, revelled in such sounds. Coupled with the influx of power in his body, those sounds were causing his pulse to quicken. As if – his – war itself was ready to gush through him. Far from leading that war however, he felt like a captive. Bound here, as the palace fell to Reim's bloodthirsty armies. And instead of saving the Kou Empire, Al-Thamen were retreating and abandoning it.

How, really, was any part of this fun?

"You'll be alone here for a while..." the man informed him. A freezing hand passed over his pale, sweat-soaked body to the smooth curve of his hips before placing itself on his stomach. He glared; how – dare – this mere magician touch him?! Yet that black heat from his rukh was so pleasant. Judal despised most people touching him, yet this touch of magoi was...something else. Enrapturing, and he tried to ignore how wonderful that sensation of magic sparking against his body. "Gyokuen said if she fell, this was up to you. As you two alone in the Organisation have enough magoi for something like this. The fruit born from this ritual will ensure we can one day return for you. I'll admit though; doing this ritual with you instead of her seems a bit...unorthodox..."

Judal looked at him curiously. It made no sense, but admitted he had no idea the magic or commands needed to bring someone to this world. If he did...would he even do such a thing? Well, probably, as he belonged to them. He wouldn't be happy over such a thing, though. "...So how will I know to bring you back?"

"You'll just know, oracle. That's all."

"...You're so useless. If I don't know how, then..." the fingers circling his navel silenced him. As did the look in that person's eyes. Magoi pressed down on him, all the more hypnotising as it appeared to reach out, curse and become part of him. A palm rested on his stomach, its very touch imprinting a loud, yet invisible pulsating sensation on his skin. The humming of magoi caused him to writhe and struggle in his chains, even with how good it felt. those sparks of black energy omitted from the magician interfered with the dove-like swarms of rukh residing in Judal. As if they wished to blacken them with the offered, and accepted, power. Bound he couldn't stop such a thing but...then he didn't wish to.

"Don't be alarmed..." the man told him, watching his reaction as though highly fascinated by it.

Judal tried to distract himself. "I'm not...but you should hurry. Someone really strong is headed here. I can sense them."

"As can I. That first-class singularity. The king from Sindria is coming for you. Your lover," he added, and Judal's eyes widened. "You didn't think we'd notice something so obvious, oracle? That months ago you ran to him, begging for his help? You even have so much of his...magoi inside of you now."

"Ah..." how weird if Al-Thamen noticed that. And he had been – so - discreet about it. At least in Judal's mind, he had been. "Well, I –"

"It matters not anymore. If anything, it's beneficial. He'll ensure Reim doesn't harm you. He'll come; he'll kill me as my magic will be spent on this ritual. He'll save you, just as you wished. But then, you did say he had a good heart..." that man told him somewhat matter-of-factly.

"...Yeah," he agreed, albeit slightly confused by that."

"But remember, oracle, you serve our Father. And we have much to do in this world. That time will come. For now...close your eyes..."

At that command, Judal ceased his protests even if he had more to say. Despite himself, he felt his painted eyelids close softly, obedient to all they said. In reality, he cared little for their damned Father. But it wasn't as if he had much say in any of this.

He chose to focus on the echoes and drums of that raging battle. And he concentrated on the feel of his strength and magoi, as Sinbad drew ever closer. He heard, abruptly, the loud crack of the magician's staff striking the hard ground. Its how, vaguely, he knew the ritual had commenced. The muttered, somewhat incomprehensible chanting was now from one person, yet somehow filled the chamber. The silent black rukh streamed out, pouring into Judal's body and from their room. Filling him with their power as he did.

It was...such a strange ritual, indeed. Vaguely more interested, Judal noticed how it seemed to focus on infusing him with all the black rukh left in the world. He rather liked the idea. That scorch of energy continued to exhaust his body to an agonising fever all the same. He knew, full well, as a Magi he could endure this. That no mere magician could withstand such a thing. As such, those black rukh flooding into him were his prize. They seemed keen to fuel and flood him, to dye his very soul a black darker than midnight. As if they meant to seek out and eclipse the black sun himself.

He gasped against the energy swelling within his stomach. He felt lightheaded, and realised his body had grown numb, paralysed to this sensation, long ago. He was tingling with a curious lack of strength, yet that lucid overwhelming power. The touch lying just above his bare hips grew all the more biting as his body heated up further. He moaned, struggling in his chains as that touch harsher than winter pressed heavily to his charged skin. This felt...amazing...

"Oracle?!" the magician asked him urgently.

"...What?" he shuddered. Nothing felt wrong. In felt, this was the first ritual he found himself enjoying. The power collecting within his core was beyond anything he had ever felt, despite its numbing chill. As the man drew away from him, his eyes snapped open. "Don't stop now! Just hurry and give me all you have already..."

"...Are you sure?" how laughable it was he was taken back, especially as Judal nodded enthusiastically. That magician seemed somewhat amazed just – how – much magoi and rukh a Magi could contain. What a simple person!

So the low chanting continued, and that fire raged within him. it's flames danced in shades of white and black and he felt so intoxicated watching them. His body grew tired, lacking his wish for more power, and ceased to struggle and relaxed in its shackles. Yet that energy, chaotic and overwhelming and a fevered tempest, continued to twist and turn within him. The magician's fingers continued to stroke and press against his stomach all the while.

Suddenly that flow of magoi ceased, and it seemed the magician's power was spent. He stopped with a loud gasp, and stumbled back from the altar. To Judal, it reminded him of just how strange those people were. That the Magi would never give up his life to empower someone else. The man turned, in horror, to the sound of hurried footsteps rushing down the spiralled stairs to find the chamber door. Judal heard that familiar voice call his name, and sensed Sinbad's strong magoi nearby. His enemy, and lover, had come for him as he said. He struggled in his chains; and realised he didn't wish to be found in such an embarresing way. "...Wow though; that stupid king sure took his time..."

"Yes...but the ritual was a success," the Al-Thamen man replied. Then, as if accepting the fate he had cursed him to, that person steadied himself on his staff. As if in silent prayer he leaned on it, and enough for its pressure to draw a trickle of blood down from the magician's thorn-crowned forehead. He drew away from the altar, and Judal, and moved back towards the door. "...For Father..."

And so the doors behind Judal were thrown open.

A cry had risen in that man's throat, only to fade very quickly. Albeit Judal hadn't expected him to last long, drained of magoi as he was, but even so it seemed over quickly. The crackling of an electrified blade later, and the sound of a doll being crushed understand, it seemed the last person of Al-Thamen aside from the Magi had faded from the world. Perhaps thinking it was too easy and that Al-Thamen was no more, that enemy invaded the sacred chamber.

More than likely, Sinbad cared as little about such a thing as Judal did.

To think though, such a thing was happening. That – this – day had come. That after begging that man for help, he had crushed those binding Judal to them for so long. Well...granted, he hadn't, really. not yet.

Yet there Judal was, shackled to that altar as the magician hadn't unchained him. Humiliation ran through him as all he could do was wait, and listen to those steps drawing closer to him. In the muted candlelight he watched their rukh seek out one another. They mingled with each other, white against white, black against black. They intertwined after not encountering each other for so long, to the point he could barely tell them apart anymore. And that approaching figure drew up to him. Judal would have wanted to be free; his body fit and not numbed from in-taking so much magoi. He'd have wanted his sceptre in hand to fight Sinbad. Instead...this was going the very opposite to that.

A warm hand brushed over his feverish forehead, smoothing back his damp fringe tenderly. The bright crackling of lightening faded as if Sinbad dismissed Baal and re-sheathed his sword. That touch was so calming, as was the victor leaning in. A kiss was pressed against his forehead, and a second and scalding one found his lips. No doubt Sinbad would relight in telling the Magi he had been wrong, soon enough. All the same...he was here.

Tanned, muscled arms reached out from behind him, and crossed over the bound man's chest in a tight embrace. Sinbad uttered a relieved sounding sigh, as if glad to see him unharmed, and Judal closed his eyes. He breathed in that rich, musky scent which reminded him so much more. Flushed he felt his lover's radiant face rest on his shoulder, looking over him. Within moments, that familiar sensation of being enveloped in such an untamed, powerful tide which was his lover washed over him. "...Fancy finding my idiot Magi down here. Of all places. You weren't fighting..."

"Yeah...I was angry with them about that too. I wanted to fight you," Judal replied. He felt his lover's grip tighten, and instead in a chiming of metal Sinbad's jewelled hands roaming over the Magi's pale, burning body with a satisfied sound. As if finding him chained in such a way was a rare treat. Judal uttered an involuntary sound as kissed gazed lightly over his throat, and he tilted back. "Did you kill everyone up there though?"

"Enough. I did have a bit of help. Reim's harsh, but they agreed to take prisoners. But Al-Thamen are gone, finally..." Judal nodded to that, even if he knew better, a strong hand reached to lightly run its fingers lightly over one of Judal's shackles. Sinbad made a troubled sound, but then Judal wasn't so keen on being bound and helpless either. "...Are you alright? That's why you weren't there waiting to fight me? They were performing a ritual on you?"

"...Yeah," he agreed, and knew he was denied – that – moment of fighting that man. "

Judal nodded. And in truth, he never felt all that normal following what they did to him. Unlike those times, however, right now he felt beyond amazing. "...Yeah. Say, Sinbad. Do you know they didn't let me fight since the palace fell? At all? It's so annoying! This is my war!"

"It's not your war if you just got yourself chained up for me to save you instead of fighting," Sinbad smiled softly at him. He felt irritated, and his king drew away. A ringed thumb rubbed over his wrist as his bindings were inspected. "When you didn't come and attack me as I expected you to, I came to find you. You're not hurt, at least. All the same...I don't think I'd want to fight you."

"Eh? Why not?!"

"We haven't seen each other a while. And you know how you get."

Judal grinned at that. "Yeah. And you knew I'd beat you."

"Before or after I saved you, as you asked?" well...before. Obviously, what a stupid question. "You look so beautiful though, all chained up just for me. It's almost a shame to let you out..." Judal narrowed his eyes, as if telling him not to think of such a thing. That amber, heated gaze searched over him, lewd enough to make his face flush bright red and inviting enough to – slightly – make him feel that would be alright. He looked over at the tip of Baal's sword being used expertly to pry apart one set of shackles. His king then kissed gently at his wrist. A strange warmth flooded through him, and Judal tried to summon up the energy to stroke over Sinbad's cheek. He did, barely, and Sinbad clearly noticed that weakness in his body. "...Did they tell you what this ritual was for?"

"No," he replied. Which, technically, was true. "It was different than before though."

Sinbad nodded, as if deciding not to discuss such a thing now. "Come to think of it, its better you weren't allowed to fight. If you had hurt anyone, Reim would have wanted to have you punished. But this way, I can convince them to leave you to me."

"Like they'd be a match for us..." he muttered. He felt his other wrist being freed, and tried to move it. He didn't, he lacked the strength to. He could barely move. The rituals were taxing, but he was fatigued far more than usual. But then, strangely, he was aware of this one happening. With that plethora of energy gathering in his stomach, he should – surely – have more strength than this.

He felt his ankles being freed, and a firm thumb rubbing over where his feet had been bound. Judal struggled, and Sinbad laughed as he attempted to wriggle from the soft touch. The Magi's eyes widened as he felt a weight shift up on him. That irresponsible, alluring figure was now sitting heavily up on his waist. Hands, adorned with their gold and jewels, clamoured quietly as they drew along the bracelets of Judal's forearms. They drew Judal's arms down to his sides before gripping his hands affectionately. And, frustratingly, he couldn't squeeze Sinbad's fingers in return. "For now...I'll take you back to your room to rest. Mu will have questions, so I need you to behave and answer anything he asks. But you're safe; I won't let anyone hurt you. Alright?"

He nodded, even if Reim didn't trouble him much and he wanted to fight them anyway. Perhaps not as much as Sinbad, but enough. Sinbad frowned, still gripping his prone hands. "It's...so weird seeing you behave yourself. Are you just that overwhelmed by how amazing I am?"

"...You wish. I'm so tired!" Judal exclaimed, yawning widely. Sinbad nodded, looking a little more serious. The Magi knew little about those rituals, but it seemed his king was somewhat apprehensive of seeing the after-effects of one first hand. he leaned over, pressing his lips again to Judal's. Then, to Judal's frustration, he felt himself being gathered up into the man's strong arms. He fell weakly to his chest as the tight embrace circled him. Really...did it have to be like this? "I usually am when they do this to me. Give me a day and I'll be fine."

"I know. But do you remember what you promised me, Judal?" he was asked, and Judal tried to keep his sore eyes open. He nodded and leaned into his shoulder. "You asked for my help, and now I've won. So I was right which...makes you wrong."

...Well, it's not like Judal wouldn't have boasted either. In fact, if he was right he'd probably be worse. "Yeah...but don't get too confident. Even you'd be right sometime."

"Is that right?" Sinbad laughed softly. Judal gripped to the front of his robes as he felt his spent body being lifted up and off the altar. Embarrassment gushed red through his porcelain features. He really was being carried out of here. In his arms. Some reunion, what with the ritual, being denied his war and...now this. Even worse...he knew how safe he felt now.

"...Did you get lost though?" Judal enquired. "It took you so long to get here. And you cheated, as you just ended up allying with Reim to win. Even with that...I didn't think you'd take this long! Did you know how boring it was waiting like that?!"

"But you waited," Sinbad pointed out. "It's not my fault you're too impatient to think five minutes ahead."

"...Yes it is," he mumbled slightly, Despite himself, and the fact he wanted to enjoy their reunion, Judal felt his eyes close. His body fell to relaxing within those comforting arms as Sinbad drew away from the ritual chamber. A kiss was planted on his forehead, as if to assure him everything was fine. That Al-Thamen was gone, and there was nothing to worry about. And that idiotic king probably was brave and confident enough to believe all that was the truth.

"It's so cute though that when I come to save you, all you can do is complain I wasn't faster," Sinbad laughed. "Just sleep for now...we'll talk more when you wake up..."