A story! Yes, that's right, I'm writing a multi-chapter story that I most likely won't finish. But let's enjoy the ride while it lasts, shall we?
I know I could easily simply genderbend Judal and drop the mPreg warning for this story, but that wouldn't be as fun, would it?
I apologize in advance for the length of the chapters. Truth be told, I've never written anything over 2K words.

Anyways, enjoy~

Sinbad should've known something about Ja'far was off, right from the get-go.

Ja'far never acted like this, all slutty and scantily-clad with a smirk on his mouth and in his eyes. He was never the one to start their nights together - more often than not, Ja'far would tell Sinbad no, that there's work to be done. So very rare were the moments that Ja'far cam to him, desiring sex, that Sinbad almost forgot that it was possible for Ja'far to want someone.

So when Ja'far came to Sinbad wearing significantly less than normal, asking for him, Sinbad simply thought it was almost too good to be true.

That didn't change the fact that he did, though. He stripped Ja'far and nailed him into the mattress, rough and strong and enjoying every second of it. It was during sex, however, that Sinbad should've noticed the second sign. Ja'far was never this loud. The general's moans usually came out in animalistic hisses and grunts, but this Ja'far used his voice, loud and pleasured. But Sinbad was terribly noisy himself, and wasn't too busy paying attention to Ja'far's moans to notice, let alone care.

The next red flag might've been the odd feeling of the Rukh mixing together, how it was different from normal, or perhaps the metallic odor that clung to the general. It could've been just how much worse at this than normal Ja'far was, or how tight-

Really, it could have been a number of things.

But the first thing that the high king of Sindria really noticed came in kissing the freckled man. He'd kissed magicians before - and, though not surprising, they always tasted vaguely of magic. Raw power had a sharp, metallic taste, almost rusty. Sinbad knew it well.

It's that metallic taste that's flooding Sinbad's mouth right now.

Ja'far is no magician - not to mention that it's strong, and now that he thinks about it, Ja'far's whole body tasted like magic - and here is when Sinbad realizes that this can't be Ja'far that he's just made love to.

He stares at the fake, and now that he realizes that it's there, he can see it. The pulsing, throbbing of an enchantment, or some form of spell, wrapped around the man's body. Sinbad would suspect as much, what with this imposter looking exactly like his lover and first-class general. The king slowly shifts upward, and his hand get dangerously close to Focalor's vessel - the imposter could be dangerous.

His loving gaze is gone, shifted to something else entirely, and suddenly the imposter notices and bolts, grabbing the sheets and wrapping them around his torso. Sinbad aims to take a swipe at the man, but he's too quick. The man jumps out of the palace window - they're in Sinbad's room, in the tallest tower - and floats downward, and Sinbad realizes that he's been played.

Running a hand through amethyst locks, he tries to convince himself that nothing bad could come of this. It's just sex, after all. That person may very well have been some foolish female magician who'd heard tales of Sinbad the Lady Killer and wished for a taste of the action. The easiest way to get that would obviously be to disguise as the one that Sinbad's sworn his faithfulness to.

Exhausted and naked as the day he was born, Sinbad flops down onto his empty mattress - they took the sheets, dammit - and wills himself to sleep.

*Sigh...*

Judal's head is throbbing, and he feels like an idiot for being found out, for being sick all the way home, for not performing the spell correctly. He tries to think positive - at least it worked. His plan of losing his virginity to the king of Sindria went rather smoothly, save for the part where Sinbad realizes it's him.

Or did he? Judal isn't quite sure, he just knows the Sinbad knew he wasn't Ja'far.

Just goes to show that you shouldn't mess with old magic - it was a spell called Glamoré, designed to change one's appearance drastically until it looked exactly like that of someone else. In his case, Ja'far. It had been part of his elaborate plan to seduce Sinbad, and so he learned the spell and attempted to cast it upon himself - however, he performed the ritual incorrectly, and so today, he's feeling the after effects.

He'd been sick all morning.

Now Judal lays upon his messy bed, in his messy room, in the clean imperial palace of Kou. Nobody's bothered him yet today, and he's grateful for that - he does not need anyone demanding where he was last night. Sure, Sinbad had been good, great even, but looking back on it now... It's terribly embarrassing.

Absentmindedly, he allows his thoughts to wander, and eventually they make their way back to Hakuryuu. Ah, Hakuryuu. There had been a time when Judal thought about losing his virginity to him - that thought, however, was quickly shot down upon the discovery that Hakuryuu is, undeniably, straight. It was a bit of a let-down, but Judal was not the type to get worked up over a silly little crush, and so he forgot about Hakuryuu just as easily as he'd developed feelings for him in the first place.

Suddenly, there's a knock on the door. Damn. Spoke too soon.

Judal begrudgingly gets up and greets whomever it is that seeks his attention - it's a servant of Al Sarmen. Gyokuen wants to see him. Judal really doesn't want to perform any rituals - his stomach and head both ache terribly - but he'd be damned if he was given any form of choice.

Instead of floating, Judal walks, which feels a little off; using the Glamoré spell drained nearly all of his Magoi, which isn't good if he's going to be used. In his mind, he works furiously to come up with some sort of excuse to tell Gyokuen, on why his Magoi is so weak today. Unfortunately, he's standing before the high queen herself before he can come up with anything that might work.

It takes Judal a moment to realize that he isn't about to perform any sort of ritual - it's only him and Gyokuen in the small room, no one else. The queen's smile is light and mocking, and her voice is smoother than butter. "Judal-kun." She says it in mocking fondness. "Do you know why I've beckoned you here?"

I have a few ideas.

"It's because," She begins, walking up to the teenager and running her fingers through his velvety braid. Judal instantly tenses up, bracing himself to slapped, or hit. "your Rukh are different, somehow," Really? He hadn't felt that. "and your Magoi flow is slower. It's weaker. Do you have any idea why that may be?"

His cover up is truthful - almost. "It's because I used a hard spell to try and get to Sindria last night and trick the king." His voice cracks, and he clamps his mouth shut.

"Oh? And why, pray tell, did you wish to go to the kingdom of the First Class Singularity so late at night?"

"I wanted to kill him."

There's something in Gyokuen's eyes that Judal doesn't like at all. She studies his Rukh intently, focusing hard on the onyx butterflies that surrounds his being. Without making eye contact, she asks, "Oh? Did you now? I take it you weren't successful in your attempts."

Judal's about to speak, but she finally straightens her posture and looks him in the eyes. "Of course you wouldn't. You're still too weak. That's why you failed in correctly casting whatever ancient spell you used on yourself."

"Y-You can tell?"

A faux smiled graces the high queen's porcelain features. "Of course. You don't think I know that effects of failing an enchantment? But don't worry; it's nothing to worry about - for now, at least."

He's excused for the time being, and it's on the way back to his room when it hits. Walking past the kitchen causes a flood of inconsistent, varied scents to enter his nose and it's disgusting, and he can't help it when bile surges back up through his throat and out onto the clean palace carpet. What's worse it that it still tastes of rancid magic, and it's like throwing up liquid rust. Judal stand back up, presses a hand against his gut, and runs out of the hallway, leaving his mess for the servants to clean up.

As he makes his way back to his room, he doesn't notice the one, miniscule white Rukh that trails behind him. The one that isn't his own.

Glamoré is a spell that I completely made up for the purpose of this story. It's a disguise spell.