A/N: Written for the Diversity Writing Challenge, b17 - write about a major character.
Return Trip
Somehow, it was much easier to walk to Balbadd than walk away. Maybe because he'd come upon his resolve in Qishan. Or maybe it was simply from meeting Aladdin. Would he have punched Budel otherwise, he wondered? If he had, he'd have died in the grip of the Desert Hyacinths. If he had, he might have still been driving Budel's wine carts and other things around, thinking about that slave girl who'd fallen into the gaping mouth and adding that to the list of other people he was powerless to save.
He had a bit of power now. Most of it, he was leaving behind in Qishan. The wealth he'd brought back from the dungeon. The wealth that had freed the slaves. That had given them some semblance of a life back. He didn't have anything else to do with the money otherwise, and freeing those slaves was, in a way, atonement for watching them suffer and do nothing.
Budel had come pretty close to slapping him in chains himself but that didn't really hit. He'd taken the coward's way, after all. Gone willingly, for a pittance of pay and no respect, but at least he had his freedom and a livelihood. But then he'd had a real adventure. A day that had been worth living in more than it gave way to another day.
And he learnt a few other things on that journey as well. Like a bit of strength.
He marched with that strength to Balbadd, instead of fleeing with only desperation on his back.
Maybe that was why it was easier.
But he was still afraid. Afraid of what he was going to find. Afraid of what he was going to do when he got there – because he still didn't know. He only knew he had to settle things: with himself, with his country. He'd run away, after all. He needed to face what he'd run from.
The burning castle. His family. His duty. Cassim.
There were a lot of hidden skeletons in Balbadd he'd have to uncover.
Come to think of it, he never did tell Aladdin of his past. He hadn't gotten the chance before they'd split up in Qishan. They might never get that chance, for all that they'd promised to meet again and go off on another adventure. Balbadd might suck him in like a whirlpool. Or it might bind him in chains and keep him there, or it might still be that fire that had chased him away… It could be many things, but a place he would easily make peace with was the least likely, and most hopeful of them.
Still, that fear in him had something to counter it now. Courage he'd gained in the dungeon, perhaps. The weight of the treasures he'd amassed and traded away for something far more valuable than jewels and gold. He felt good about himself after that. Between that and the dungeon itself, surely he could face whatever awaited him in Balbadd.
So he walked, accompanied by such thoughts. Perhaps his feet slowed as he approached the port town. Perhaps not. Nonetheless he continued on. He still had doubts, and fear, and uncertainty, but he had a conviction now he'd lacked when he'd been running, running away.
Finally, the town appeared over the grove. High-cut buildings. The sea in the distance. Balbadd.
He took a deep breath, and walked down to greet it.