As they lay together, amethyst and obsidian locks tangled and intertwined, Judal sleeping soundly on Sinbad's broad and naked abdomen, the high king ponders something.
Because every now and then, he has to ask himself, what he ever saw in Judal.
It's been about a year or so since they were first together, since the darkness that was in the fallen Magi's heart poured out of him in the form of salty wet tears that he subconsciously wept in front of Sinbad. Before that, Judal was trying to kill Sinbad, trying to destroy his kingdom, and now look that where they are, laying in a tangled mass of hair and sheets, equally vulnerable and open.
Sinbad runs a calloused finger through Judal's glossy black strands, and stares into his sleeping face, with noticeable streaks of black pouring down his cheeks. Sinbad hasn't the slightest idea why the Magi always cried when they make love, but it's no business of his.
Sinbad looks at his almost pitifully. Judal is not beautiful. He is far from the average man's definition of beauty - what with his dark hair and sharp eyes, his too-thin frame and his nearly corpse-like paleness.
But Sinbad sees what others don't. There's a prettiness in Judal, something delicate and fragile that he just might shatter should he get to rough with the Magi. From his hourglass-like hips to the bloody, tear-bleeding discs of his eyes, Sinbad finds Judal far more beautiful than any girl he's ever met.
Before he'd been with the Magi, Sinbad had been with Ja'far, his advisor. Ja'far was what others would describe as perfect. He was hard-working, faithful, patient, respectful, pretty - but they just didn't click.
Now Sinbad compares the two, and realizes that Judal is everything that Ja'far isn't.
He's a hothead, with a lust for battle and warfare and he craves bloodshed, loves watching others be wounded when he is safe. Judal is petty and jealous as well - he covets Aladdin's power and envies Ja'far for being the most desirable one around. He's also rude, inconsiderate, foul-mouthed and physically weak - but he's not dark anymore
As though he can hear what Sinbad is thinking, Judal suddenly wakes, and turns to face Sinbad with sleepy eyes. He clutches the blankets and sheets closer to his naked chest as Sinbad's lips meet his in a kiss, and this is home, Sinbad thinks, because Judal is warm and nice and Sinbad doesn't give two shits what anyone else has to say about love.
Love is patient and love is kind. Judal isn't either of those - but to Sinbad, he's perfect all the same.