A/N: Hello, I've just marathoned Adventure of Sinbad yesterday and I quickly got obsessed with Sinbad. He was cool in Magi, yeah, but in the prequel it just feels more of something that's hard to explain. Was I sane while writing this? I don't know, three hours of sleep is all. Inspired by a commenter on batoto saying when they'd read a panel, they thought Madaura said if Sinbad lost, he'd be her sex slave. I didn't misread it, though that was amusing.

He shivered, pulling the blanket wrapped around him closer. A steaming mug was offered to him and he took it without a thought. It was warm. Arms encircled his waist from behind and he felt a soft body against his.

"Drink up, my dear child," Madaura said. Sinbad nodded and brought the mug to his lips. It was hot chocolate. The hot beverage warmed him from the inside as he swallowed it gulp after gulp. When he was done he held it in his hands, gazing at the floor he sat on. The bright flames flickering in the fireplace mirrored in his eyes. Slender fingertips touched Sinbad's jaw, beckoning him to face Madaura. He turned, slowly moving his head to look at the woman.

"Sinbad."

He tensed at her cold tone and struggled to find his voice. Sinbad answered, "Yes?" Madaura smiled and brushed his cheek.

"Poor boy, Mother's sorry she put you in the chamber again," she started and narrowed her eyes at him. "It is all to discipline you into a good boy, please understand." She paused and opened her arms. "Here, Mother will comfort you and warm you up." Sinbad blinked, twisting his body to lean on Madaura and wrap his arms around her. As he tried to figure out the right thing to say, a thought raced across his mind and his eyes widened at the revelation.

"Sinbad is a good boy now, yes?" Madaura said, letting her hands hold her child's shoulders. Sinbad nodded by her neck.

"I'm sorry for being a bad boy…Mother," he croaked and sniffed. Madaura lit up. She gasped.

"Oh!" She pushed Sinbad's head further down, nestled between her breasts. She squeezed him in her arms. "My child, my precious child. It's okay, Mother forgives you." Sinbad hummed in response. He chose his words correctly this time and he was glad—he could almost fall asleep like this, his eyelids drooping. Madaura noticed and chuckled. She waved the woman in the room away, the attendant bowing and locking the door before exiting.

With a dull thump, Sinbad's wrists were freed, and with a sharp clang, his feet became lighter. He looked at his hands and there was no wooden shackle in sight. He saw the same with his ankles, no longer bound by chains and ball weights. This was pleasing. Sinbad's attention was caught when Madaura hooked a finger into her dress, pulling it down to reveal a bare chest.

She smiled and guided his head towards her naked breast. Sinbad peered up at Madaura and a muffled question came, "Mother? What are you doing?" Madaura lifted his chin.

"I'm lulling you to sleep." She received a confused expression. "Anything to help my dear Sinbad to sleep…" She whispered in his ear, "Go on, suck on Mother…" and her wet tongue darted out, giving Sinbad's jaw a lick. Sinbad went rigid. He realized what she meant now and it didn't seem like he could escape from this. He grit his teeth. Sinbad exhaled a shaky breath and forced himself to enclose the nipple in front of him with his mouth. He leaned forward as he latched onto it, sucking and it was strange. The flesh was soft. Though it wasn't completely unpleasant, Sinbad had an urge to glare at the woman, knock her down—maybe he could kill her too if he did it quickly—then run back to his company. It burned in his chest. Only a newborn baby would do something like this. Why wasn't bile creeping up his throat? His lightheadedness could be an explanation.

Madaura sighed as she stroked Sinbad's silky hair. Even with the rough treatment, her child's strands of royal purple remained unharmed and smooth. She inhaled his scent and frowned in distaste—she would have to prepare the loveliest shampoo for the boy after. Sinbad could hardly contain his desire to flee from the woman right this moment. The hand running through his hair immediately calmed him, his shoulders and muscles underneath the skin relaxing. His eyelids drooped once more, his vision beginning to blur. It was then, that Sinbad brought his free hand to tweak Madaura's other nipple.

Madaura jumped, whipping a palm down.

"Wha?!" Sinbad yelped. He jerked to look at Madaura and was met with a scowl.

"What do you think you are doing?"

It was that face again. The one Sinbad's seen many times. He shuddered, retracting his hands to clutch at the blanket. He averted his gaze, staring at the fireplace. Sinbad's heart beat in his ribcage heavily, sweat gathering in his palms. He had to say something.

"I…" He stared into Madaura's dark eyes and panted. He wasn't going back there, to that cold, cold, chamber. He wouldn't, couldn't return and suffer in agony and hypothermia for hours again, uncertain of when help would come. "I…thought…" He shut his eyes when he saw Madaura raise a hand to strike him again and blurted out as fast as he could, "Sorry, I thought that it'd please you and make you feel good, Mother!" Sinbad waited, yet the stinging blow never came. He cracked an eye open, and gradually opened them fully.

"Oh…" Madaura covered her mouth with both hands, an awed expression on her. "Sinbad, you are my precious child," she said and embraced the boy. Sinbad stilled. Madaura rubbed his behind gently. "I'm sorry for hitting you so hard like that…You surprised me." Sinbad trembled with her touch and sighed. What was this feeling, this feeling of blood rushing throughout his body? Madaura hid a smirk, burrowing her face in Sinbad's hair. She glided a finger down from Sinbad's collarbone and stopped at his navel, lingering there. Sinbad shook, somehow the crawling sensation exhilarating him.

"Oh my…do you need Mother to lend you a hand with that?" Madaura cooed. Sinbad panted again, his breathing becoming laboured. When he tilted his head, she trailed her finger lower, coming into contact with something moist. Sinbad looked down, processing the image in his mind. He glanced over at the mug next to him and grasped at the sheet in his hands.

Ya sharmouta.

Madaura smiled, caressing his cheek and tucked the loose strands of his hair behind his ear. Sinbad's head was clouding, but one thought stuck—he wanted this woman to repent for her sins and maybe a little more.