The banquet was exquisite, nothing short of perfect. Not that he should have expected less. After all, it was his wedding night, and with Celendine of all people. He was the emperor of Parthevia. He? The son of a one-legged fisherman from Tison? It was still sinking in.

Celendine had been the one to suggest a political marriage. It would let her take back her country and see her brother as well as give Sinbad a shortcut to the throne of a powerful nation. She had even taken his disinterest in settling down into account when she proposed that he could have as many concubines as he wanted, as this was only political. No emotions involved.

Upon their arrival, Barbarossa had surprisingly accepted their proposal. He let Sinbad and Celendine take back the throne, but in exchange, they'd pardon his actions, which their group had decided to agree to. Anything to avoid unnecessary wars and deaths.

Speaking of the devil. Sinbad hadn't seen Barbarossa all night. He looked around the room once more, not seeing the tall green-head. He glanced towards his goblet, only to find it empty, just his luck.

He loosened the ribbon around his neck. Heavy. The clothes of an emperor were far heavier than he thought they'd be. Celendine had said he could continue his travels, making more allies along the way, but these would definitely not be the clothes he did it in.

His wine goblet was empty and it wouldn't be long before he'd be bombarded with questions. Ah, he was not drunk enough to deal with the questions coming his way. He reached over and tugged a little at one of Celen's Kobi-pink locks, causing his wife to look at him with a questioning look.

"Yes, Sinbad?" She said, tilting her pretty face to the side. He continued twirling the short, pink lock between his fingers.

"I don't think I'm drunk enough to deal with whatever questions those guys are gonna ask me. So, I'll excuse myself." He said, standing up from his seat. The crown gave him a good few inches, which really helped when dealing with nobles who still didn't accept him as their emperor. Sinbad swore that a person's height really mattered in politics. No one takes short people seriously.

"It can't be that bad?" She said, looking towards the noblemen that left her husband anxious about staying in the room any longer, "You know, on second thought. Go, I'll cover for you." She smiled at him. Sinbad knew he was lucky, having married a woman, who understood him and his struggles so well.

"Thank you!" He hurried out of the dinning hall and down the corridor, his long, heavy robes trailing him. Sinbad had yet to get used to the new way of walking, balancing the crown on his head. He pulled at the ribbon again, loosening it. It was too hot. Too heavy. He needed to get outside. He hurried down the hall and out onto the big balcony. He could see the entirety of Csitephon from here, and what a beautiful sight it was. Sinbad leaned against the railing, watching the city and all the pretty lights from the bonfire and different torches lining the steets, burning in celebration of his and Celendine's marriage. He let out a sigh.

"Should have brought some wine…" He groaned, closing his eyes for a bit.

"The groom shouldn't be groaning on his wedding night. Though I can't say I didn't complain about my own wedding" A familiar voice said, chuckling behind him. Sinbad turned around, standing face to face with Rashid. A smile made its way onto the emperor's face.

"Your majesty." He was about to bow, but Rashid shook his head.

"You're an emperor, Sinbad. Don't bow to me. It looks like you're about to drop the crown?" The king chuckled and Sinbad quickly grabbed onto the headdress.

"I swear, it's a lot harder than it looks! Wearing a crown." He sighed and stood straight, letting go when he felt the crown was stable on his head. The king laughed, and soon Sinbad did too.

"I could go for another goblet of wine. Or a pitcher…" The teenage emperor sighed, looking to his friend. Rashid's smile faded, watching his young friend.

"Aren't you drinking a lot more lately? Are you okay?"

"Hmm?" Sinbad jolted a little, watching the king next to him. Was he okay? Okay? What did that even mean? What did it mean to be okay? He let out a sigh, and rested his head in his hands, watching the beautiful city beneath. "I don't know anymore… I don't remember what it feels like to be 'okay'. Am I asking for too much? Shouldn't I automatically be okay? I'm the emperor of my home country. I can change it now, yet here I am…" he let out another sigh, before Rashid's hand wrapped around his wrist and he was pulled into a warm embrace. And embrace similar to-

Sinbad pushed the king away. He was trembling, shaking, his breaths came hard and he could feel his eyes start to sting. They stood like that for a while. Rashid, speechless and Sinbad, on the verge of a panic attack.

"I… I'm sorry… I..." He stuttered. He did it again. He pushed someone important to him away. He did it again. He did it again. He did it again. He grabbed at his own hair, his knees giving away beneath him. He dropped the crown, not even looking as it rolled away from him.

Rashid was there instantly, arms around him. He stroked his back, comforting the mess he had become. The mess she had created. That she had left him in. He was clinging to the king, as he slowly calmed in his arms.

He could hear heavy steps approach them. The sound of armour hitting the stone floor. He didn't dare look up. Hands pulling at bossanova locks, as he tried to catch his breath. The steps stopped and a series of metallic sounds followed along with a voice Sinbad was starting to grow familiar with.

"Has his majesty had too much to drink?" the man chuckled in a low, husky tone.

"Yes, it seems so, lieutenant." Rashid replied, stroking Sinbad hair. Sinbad looked up, met by the sight of the tall, green haired lieutenant, Barbarossa. Drakon's brother and Celen's former fiancé. He was holding the young emperor's crown in his hands. Sinbad watched the man tower over him. To his surprise, the lieutenant extended his hand to him. It was big. His fingers were long, nails were well kept, and the skin was thick, thick like his own, like any man having done a life worth of hard work. It took a little longer than he meant it to, but he took the hand in his and let the older man lead him back onto his feet, and then place the heavy crown back on his head again.

"I shall escort his majesty back to his bed then." The nobleman's smile made Sinbad's heart skip a beat. Something about the lieutenant had caused him to lower his guard, despite knowing it was too early to trust the man who had tried to kill him, his friends and his wife. Too early to believe he didn't have some secret agenda hidden behind those golden eyes. Those eyes that reminded the young ruler of the first dungeon, of Baal, of the dragon he defeated before heading onto conquering the dungeon.

Rashid nodded and got back up as well, leaving the young emperor in the care of the Parthevian Lieutenant. Sinbad turned his gaze from his friend and mentor towards the man who gave him the crown he now wore as he ruled one of the world's greatest empires. At least, that's how the other referred to the nation Sinbad was now answering to once again, but this time, not as the son of the 'traitor' Badr, but as the emperor, the ruler, the head of the country. Those were all words Barbarossa had used when talking about him. They scared him, those words. They sent chills down his spine and left him feeling so fragile, yet so powerful all at once, and oh how he loved that rush. Barbarossa wasn't trustworthy yet. At least not fully, but the man knew how to use his words to win over the young emperor.