It hurt.
That's all he can think when he looks upon the manic grin across his face, at the remains of crocodile tears that hadn't quite been wiped from his eyes, at the slight flush to his skin that usual followed intense emotions.
It really hurt. More than he could imagine. Deeper than anything else. So far buried that it could never be dragged up again.
So much pain.
And he was laughing, like it was nothing. To him, it was nothing, nothing worth mentioning at all. That's just how he held himself, never letting others see his pain. Was that strength or pride?
Ja'far commented later to him that he didn't seem that angry over that petty act, but he could only shrug it off. He wasn't entirely sure yet of what he wanted to do about it.
Because he was going to do something about it, there was just too much pain there to not do anything.
He voiced none of this to Ja'far, did not need to. His right hand, his most trusted… his closest friend, Ja'far already knew, probably before he did himself, that he wasn't going to leave this alone.
Neither of them knew when he would act on it though.
He had propositioned Aladdin to be Sindria's Magi, or at least in a way… the kid was sharp. He honestly can't say he was surprised to be turned down, more or less, but he can say he was surprised at the bit of relief that ran through him. It didn't feel right. Not that Aladdin wouldn't have been perfect as Sindria's Magi, but…
No, he couldn't think like that, not when he had to think for a country.
He didn't really understand why though until that night. He knew that Judal could get into his country with little to no problem, Yamuraiha's barrier was amazing but nothing was imperfect. What did surprise him was that Judal would want to return to his country. He hadn't seemed particularly fond of it last time, likely from the abundance of white rukh, and the presence of so many of his generals, and himself, and Aladdin…
In fact, he wasn't sure why Judal would ever want to step foot inside his country, there was literally no reason for him to take such a risk.
Yet there he was.
For a moment, all he could really do was stare at the figure. He leaned slightly over the balcony, eyeing the relaxed form in his garden below, asleep it seemed. He was never one to think too hard of his actions before taking them, and didn't see a reason to start now, and let himself jump over the side to get closer. Landing with silence that Ja'far would have been impressed with if it weren't for the reason he did it, the thought of his trusted general was wiped from his mind as he looked over to the figure only a few feet away.
Closer now, there was no doubt of who it was, Judal was curled up into a tight ball at the base of the largest tree in his garden. As he inched closer, his eyebrows knotted at the pained expression on the Oracle's face. Concern raised, he wondered for the well-being of the Magi, if maybe his curled form hid some kind of grievous injury. The closer he stepped, the more questions came to mind, only one dominating the others.
Why did he come here?
Finally, he was inches from the form, bent at the knee to be almost at eye level with the pale boy before him. He looked so… beaten in his sleep. Eyebrows drawn together, mouth twisted in a small frown that was almost a pout, his fingers clutched his own arms so tightly, as if insecure. Then deep red eyes began to flutter open, and his heart started racing a bit faster despite he being the one with the right to be here.
"Sinbad."
It was so quiet, a whisper, less of a question and more of an acceptance. Then the eyes slid shut again and he couldn't begin to express the warmth that melted his heart. It was like some subconscious part of Judal had trusted him in that moment, sleep dazed and barely cognitive, he recognized him and allowed himself to fall back into unconsciousness.
Again, he could not put his reasoning into words, as was something he was beginning to realize was happening a lot, but he scooped the young man up in his arms. Gently, silently, he carried him towards his own room. When he turned the last corner and saw Ja'far standing by his door, he didn't even blink. The former assassin, however, did. Several times at the form in his arms, before his eyes finally rose to meet his own. He opened the door for him before leaving. Whatever he saw there was enough to convince him it seemed, for he just sighed heavily, and nodded.
That was something he would think about tomorrow though, something that he could not address at the moment, something he was still trying to figure out himself now.
When he laid the young man out on his own bed though, and watched the way he curled into the sheets, his expression suddenly relaxing, a tenseness that seemed to melt off him bit by bit, he held no regret for what he decided.
He made himself comfortable in a chair across from the bed, unsure of whether or not to let himself drift off, ultimately unable to as his gaze would shift back and forth between the pale figure in his bed and out the window to the night sky over his country. His mind was racing, but also empty. Or maybe just repeating the same thing over and over again? The one emotion, one feeling, it was pounding in his heart and rushing through his veins, it drove his protective instinct high, his nerves to the edge.
That moment he looked down into the garden and saw Judal there… It kept repeating again and again in his mind, the rush of emotions he had felt. He hadn't thought about it as it was happening, but now his mind wouldn't let him not think about it. He recognized those emotions, the warmth and dread that had spread through him. Judal had wanted to return to his country, wanted to return to his palace, wanted to return to him. Judal laid out in the cold unable to return to him, curled up on the hard ground unable to reach him, alone and in the dark unable to see him.
Since when did he care so much about this boy?
And his mind instantly brought that day back, the crocodile tears breaking from the corners of dead eyes, a thin smile being stretched over his pale expression, the refusal to admit pain… Was it strength or pride? Sinbad found he really wanted to know suddenly.
Not just that. But about this past that the boy had been talking about. About his feelings for the past. About his desires now. About the dungeons he raised. About his alliance with the Kou Empire. About his obsession with peaches. About his desire for power. About his fascination with Aladdin. About his hatred for Aladdin. About the dungeons he had conquered from him. About his childhood. About his need for war. About the black rukh. About… everything.
Face and body fully relaxed, he watched the morning sun slowly rise over his peaceful form. The fiery sun casting such a warm life over such a cold and dark person. A desire running through the king at that moment, nothing lewd like he would have thought at first, rather simple to be honest.
He wanted to see Judal in white.
The idea… captivated him, in all honesty.
The same person, the same hair, the same eyes, the same expression… but in pure white. For some reason, he felt that it reflected the Magi much better than the dark clothes he had on now…
He wanted to see him in the purest white cloths he could find, loose fitting, relaxed, showing just enough skin. Gold, earrings maybe, something dangly and shiny, and a long necklace. Nothing constricting, nothing… captive. And he wanted to make him a bed of pillows, in a place where the sun is always rising, and a bowl of peaches always just in reach. But most importantly, he wanted for him to never leave.
That's what he desired, but the nagging voice in the back of his head (that sounded vaguely like Ja'far) reminded him that this was very likely something the Magi would find much too boring.
Entranced with his thoughts, he almost missed the moment those red eyes began to flutter open again, followed by the softest groan. His heart nearly dropped into his stomach, a sense of mourning almost coming over him. He would leave now, wouldn't he? He had been discovered, and just like that day he would laugh it off as nothing and bury it and leave. As rare of an occurrence it is, he silently prayed, wishing for nothing else but for the young man to just fall back into a peaceful rest. Caring not to identify the reason behind this desire, or any of his desires involving the other man.
Red eyes shifting around the room, they eventually and finally landed on himself.
"Sinbad."
He was awake.