A/N: I really wanted to write a long, multichapter Sinju story, because there aren't nearly enough. I apologize for this being on the shorter side, the first chapter is always the hardest. I aim to update every Sunday.

Please review! :)

Warnings: mentions of abuse, mature content in later chapters, etc.


"Hey, Stupid King!"

Sinbad stifled a groan, glancing over his shoulder with tired eyes. Although he was sure that the cheerful greeting had come from behind, the ends of a long, black braid dangling before his eyes told him better to look up.

Judal lay stretched out effortlessly upon a bed of thin air, exposing the taut lines of his stomach and resting his cheek in the palm of an elegant hand. For reasons unknown to the king, his eyes gleamed with an unfamiliar light and his grin was far less Cheshire than childlike. "It's so good to see my favorite idiot again!"

"I can't say the same for you, Judal."

Over the past few weeks, Sinbad had been seeing far more of Judal than he would have liked, for no reason more than that the magi "wanted to say hello." Lately, Judal had been showing up everywhere, it seemed as though whenever Sinbad looked up, there he was, grinning, with some cheeky remark poised on the tip of his tongue. Sinbad was not fooled for a second. Judal did not just pop up for the sake of his own good will; there was always a motive behind his actions.

Judal pulled a frown. "Oh, come on!" He whined, unfurling from where he lay to alight with an enviably catlike grace. "Couldn't you at least pretend that you're glad to see me? I came all the way from Kou just to pay you a visit."

"Perhaps," Sinbad began, glaring down at the smaller figure before him, "I might be happier if I'd actually invited you here. Or did you take that liberty yourself?"

"Of course," Judal smiled, a cheeky grin that Sinbad found oddly innocent for the reputation he upheld. "You'd never let me come if it were up to you." He studied the look on Judal's features for but a moment before turning to walk away.

"You're so cruel to me, Sinbad," Judal called after him as he hurried to match with Sinbad's stride. "I don't always come here just for you, though!"

Sinbad scoffed. "Have some friends to pay a visit?"

"You know I don't have any of those," Judal answered as though it were nothing, and Sinbad felt an uncomfortable ache in his chest as the magi fell into step alongside him. "But that's not it. The Kou Palace can be such a drag, y'know? They put my body through some serious shit with those rituals all the time. I'd do anything to get away from them."

Sinbad came to a slow halt. Judal was an immeasurably powerful magician, Sinbad knew that all too well, but he'd also been told that the magi, as most were, was laughably weak and physically delicate, with almost no strength nor endurance. He was a bother, sure, but Judal was beautiful. His features were impish and delicate, and he had such long, dark hair; Sinbad had to wonder if he'd ever cut it. What intrigued him most, though, were those deep, intelligent scarlet eyes, how striking they were against his flawless pale skin, how deep sorrow would swell within them before he silenced it with a laugh. For a moment, Sinbad worried for him, and dared to wonder how much that body could take. As he studied the soft edges of Judal's frame, it almost hurt him to imagine.

"I could pose for a portrait, if you'd like," Judal piped up helpfully. "It'd certainly last longer."

Sinbad didn't want to know how long he'd been staring. He assumed that it had been long enough to inspire Judal's cheeky grin, the hand resting on his cocked hip, and those eyes glowing with mischief. The king sighed.

"I have little patience for your antics today, Judal," he growled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Do you ever?" Judal muttered, eyes cast down. "I always come all the way here just to see you, and you never even spare me a moment's time."

Judal's expression was always a very odd juxtaposition of agony and mirth, but now there was something especially troubled about his features. Though Sinbad would rather him wallow somewhere else, it intrigued him, that he could never quite tell whether Judal were ready to laugh or cry. That was something that didn't quite sit right with him.

"You can come another time, then. When I'm not this preoccupied," Sinbad conceded, and while he knew he would quickly regret the offer, watching the glow return to Judal's scarlet eyes made it somehow worth the trouble.

"Really?"

Sinbad sighed. "Would you rather be escorted out?"

"Your silly guards could never catch me," he scoffed, tossing his long braid back over his shoulder. "But don't think you're getting rid of me that easily! I'll be back, whether you like it or not, Sinbad!" Judal proclaimed with a proud wink. In seconds he had seated himself cross-legged atop an intricately embroidered magic carpet, and flew off with a grin and a wave, vanishing into a speck in the distance.

Sinbad could not imagine why Judal would possibly make things so easy for him. Everything Sinbad had learned up to this day pointed to the fact that Judal only operated to benefit his own interests, that he was selfish, and that he never followed anyone's orders if his life depended on it. Something was very wrong if Judal was being compliant, Sinbad decided, something that he couldn't seem to put his finger on, and yet it was amiss nonetheless. Sinbad spared a moment to stare after that invisible speck in the sky, shook his head, and got back to work.


Judal didn't know why he always went to Sindria, or, more specifically, to Sinbad.

Whether he liked it or not, he always found himself loitering around the palace for no real reason other than that he wanted to be there. Something about being near Sinbad pleased him, even if they weren't in each other's company. Maybe it had something to do with the beauty of that country, the tropical breeze and the lively people who always seemed to be perfectly content. Or perhaps the naïve, childish part of him that had longed to conquer the world with Sinbad had never really left.

The magic carpet ride to Kou had been long, uneventful, and stupidly boring. In some vain effort to keep himself sane throughout the journey, he turned his attention to the songs of the rukh. As of late, Judal had begun to worry that there were more of the white birds than he could remember, and that the black ones were slowly, almost unnoticeably dwindling. Judal, of course, noticed. The song of the black rukh wasn't nearly as light and tinny as that of their white counterparts; their song was deeper and soothing, and he liked it that way. But he supposed that the cheerful melody of the white rukh could be nice, too.

Lately, though, their song had been too loud and too distracting and-god, why were they turning pink?

"Judal!" A shrill voice drew him out of his thoughts, and there was Kougyoku, waving big at him from across the courtyard. Judal waved back and smirked as she came to meet him.

Judal had always liked Kougyoku, compared to the rest of the empire at least. She wasn't keen on judging him, for one thing, and her antics were pretty entertaining for the most part. But he wasn't too fond of her interest in the Sindrian King, for whatever reason.

"Old hag," he greeted accordingly, to which she pouted and swelled up with frustration. However, it seemed as though bigger things were on her mind, for she quickly changed the subject.

"How was Sindria?" Kougyoku asked, a whisper, because as far as she knew Judal really wasn't supposed to be making these careless trips to their enemy state. It had grown to become the primary subject of her constant worry. "Did Sinbad say anything about me?"

"Not a thing," he chuckled, and took a bite from the ripe peach in his hand.

"Good!" She answered haughtily, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Eh? I thought you liked that Stupid King," Judal grumbled, feeling unusually defensive. He knew there was no reason to let Kougyoku threaten him with just her presence alone, it was foolish to tarnish a friendship (should he call it that?) over a stupid man. Sinbad had no interest in taking on an actual partner anyways, although, that thought only managed to discourage Judal even more.

Kougyoku shook her head, arms crossed. "No way! I may have liked him once," she admitted, turning pink, "but those days are gone. After the way he's treated me, I want nothing to do with that pig."

Judal shrugged. That meant less competition for him, at least. "So, I guess you don't mind me paying him visits all the time?"

"Well, I don't..." She began, averting darkly lashed roseate eyes and wringing her hands together with discomfort. "But the priests do. They've been getting antsy, with you leaving all the time."

Judal concealed the sinking feeling in his abdomen with a laugh, and clapped a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "Don't you worry about them, old hag. They couldn't so much as lay a finger on me and get away with it!"

Kougyoku eyed him suspiciously, and Judal could tell that she didn't believe him, but she nodded hesitantly and sighed. "Just please be careful, Judal."

She was called away by Ka Koubun, and bid Judal goodbye before he could argue. Judal did have a place in his heart for Kougyoku, and he probably always would, but it was not the sort that could be expected. For a while now, Judal had come to understand that he had no eyes for women. On occasion a nosy servant might tease him as to his affections regarding the princess, but there was really nothing like that between them. Growing up in the Kou palace could be awfully lonely; back then, Judal needed a friend more than he did a lover.

Now, though, he was desperate for attention, and not particularly from a woman.

Judal spent the rest of the evening avoiding the priests of Al-Thamen, being of no mind to intercept their apparent rage. Despite taking a long, candlelit rose-scented bath, Judal felt anything but relaxed. As he lay awake in bed that night, sleep was the last thing on his mind.

With the maddening buzz of the rukh and, worse yet, the time alone with his thoughts, Judal had not felt this stressed in weeks.

Only after meeting with Sinbad did he always feel this way; Judal didn't know why he always went to Sindria only to be rejected and feel like this afterwards. Even when he was younger he'd always had eyes for Sinbad, but Judal... wasn't the best at putting his feelings into words. He couldn't even describe his feelings to himself, much less the object of such affections. The closest he'd ever gotten was the offer to make Sinbad his King, but apparently he wasn't being transparent enough, because those conversations always led to an altercation of some sort. Which may or may not have been his own fault, but that was besides the point.

Judal sighed and raked a hand through his loosened hair. He couldn't exactly describe the way he felt to be awful; rather it was more that a deep, hollow emptiness inside him was longing to be filled like it had never been before. Judal thought he was past the point in his life of yearning for something more, for something good, and yet there was a part of him that still cried out for the acceptance he'd never gotten to receive.

"Shut up!" Judal groaned, kicking and flailing under the sheets when the noisy, fluttering rukh refused to allow him a moment's peace. Though, their chirping hardly made a difference, when his mind was already so occupied with thought. With a groan, Judal buried his head underneath the pillow and tried, in vain, to fall into sleep.