A/N: I changed the title haha sorry for any confusion? This is a little late LMAO I had a really rough week n I'm still trying to get into the schedule of weekly updates,, this is still a little short n i dont even kno where it went tbh but sometimes you gotta let life guide you

please review!

"You're wearing perfume."

It was less of a question than a statement. By that point, Kougyoku had grown accustomed to the scent that most often accompanied Judal: fruity, like his most favorite peaches, and yet somehow very cold all the same, as though he were from an orchard frosted in shards of winter ice. But now, lazily lounging around Kougyoku's bedroom on a muggy, rainy evening, there was something very flowery swirling in the air. The faint, subtle essence of jasmine perfume clung to his skin and hair, and with it was the subtle fragrance of a warm sea breeze.

Judal shot her a look, plainly agitated and nervous, as though he'd given something fundamental away. "What?" he snapped. "Why-is it obvious?"

"A little," Kougyoku tried to hide a giggle. Contrary to his general reputation, one shrouded in an air of mystery and secrecy, Judal was almost laughably bad at being subtle-not that Kougyoku was very much better herself. "But it's nice. You're going to see Sinbad again, aren't you?"

Judal sputtered, and tried not to choke. "What gave you that idea?"

"You don't normally dress up."

His lips, perhaps a bit pinker than usual, were tugged into a frown. "I'm not 'dressed up.'"

It was not often that Judal went out of his way to adorn himself, as his typical state of attire was already flamboyant and alluring enough without any additional ornamentation. But now there was the subtle hint that he was trying to make an impression, evident from the single pearl droplet dangling from his right ear, the sharper, darkened lines of his kohl, and, of course, the soft fragrance of perfume.

"My mistake, then," she conceded, and Judal had to contain a soft growl. "You always look pretty, anyways."

"Of course I do," he said with a flush.

"I don't understand why you always go to Sinbad, though," Kougyoku began slowly, watching as Judal yawned and reclined in a nest of pillows upon her bed. At just the thought of Sinbad alone, her delicate nose wrinkled in distaste. It was true to say that Kougyoku had once harbored deep feelings for the King of Sindria, but now she was certain that whatever she had felt then was nothing more than superficial infatuation. Those feelings weren't real, and even if they were, that hardly mattered now. After the way Sinbad had manipulated her, made a fool of her, and forced her to betray her own kingdom and people, Kougyoku would rather die than be anywhere near him. "He is handsome, but not worth the trouble."

Judal rolled his flashing scarlet eyes. "Oh come on. You act as though he's the plague. He isn't that awful."

Kougyoku made a face.

"What? He's really not that bad!"

"That's what I thought at first..." Kougyoku began, kneeling on her bed beside him. "But... now I don't know. He's broken my heart more than once," she murmured, and felt the stinging at the corners of her eyes as she wrung her delicate hands together. "I don't want you to have to go through that too."

Judal was silent for a moment. "It won't come to that," he said softly, sitting up against the pillows. "I just can't help but feel different when I go to him. Sindria is so different from Kou, and I guess Sinbad is different too. When I'm with him, I don't have to be the dog of Al-Thamen. I can be myself." A startlingly raw and earnest note crept into his whisper, desperate and heartfelt, as he cast a glance to her. "I mean, he's a little cruel, sometimes. But I don't think he really means to be. I don't think he hates me, and that's different. That's enough."

"Judal..."

"Don't worry about me too much, I can take care of myself," Judal assured, waving off her concern with a lazy hand. "I've done it for this long, haven't I?"

Kougyoku risked a gentle smile. "I know," she said, and rested a frail hand upon his shoulder. "But you know that I'm here if you ever need a friend."

The magi suddenly turned very pink, and roughly shrugged her hand off of him. "Whatever," Judal grumbled, and stubbornly tore his gaze away. "I'm not friends with an old hag like you."

The comment would usually inspire outrage in Kougyoku, but at this her smile only grew. For the harsh exterior he attempted to convey, Judal was rather cute. Perhaps during her younger years, Kougyoku may have had some sort of crush on him, whether she could admit that to herself or not. That, however, was before she had acquired the sense to understand that Judal hadn't the slightest romantic interest in women, who he claimed to have thought were "boring." She knew that there was more to it than that, regardless of whether Judal could accept it himself. The best thing she could do, Kougyoku decided, was to support him in his other endeavors, even if they did happen to involve Sinbad.

"You should tell him how you feel."

"What?" Judal turned back to face her, eyes widening. "I thought you didn't like him."

"I don't," she chirped in agreement, all too cheerful for the context. "But, you do. And I trust your judgment. Sindria and Kou have reached some sort of temporary peace, so Sinbad has no qualms with you. If he means that much to you, then you should really tell him."

Judal was silent for a moment, threading the ends of his braid through his fingers as his brow creased in deep thought. "Maybe I will," he said finally, barely a whisper.

Kougyoku beamed. "Just make sure to be careful around him," she said, grinning. "And not just with him, but with the organization too. They're getting tired of you leaving so often. I don't want them to-"

"I can do whatever I want," Judal scoffed, and threw himself back into the pillows with a discontented huff. "I told you not to worry about them."

Her features twisted into a pout. "Alright," she grumbled, eyeing something golden upon his slender fingers when he did not bother to reply. "Judal?"

"What?"

"Is that nail polish?"

"No!"

Lately, Sinbad found that the Kou Empire's magi was always on his mind.

It hadn't always been like this. There was a time when Sinbad held only bitter loathing towards Judal; even if he had been a child through Sindria's first fall, he was to blame, he had overseen it, and Sinbad had never hated anyone more. But somehow that hatred had dulled over the years, as scars began to fade with the passage of time, and now the closest thing to hatred he held for the magi was pity. Judal had been so young, so oblivious, a pawn in a game he could never hope to win. Sinbad could no longer find anger for Judal within himself, only mild irritation at times, and perhaps the faint, occasional twinge of concern.

Sometimes, if the work day was particularly long and he was particularly unmotivated, Sinbad would think upon just what sort of excruciating pain Judal had endured in his nineteen years. Judal had made a fatal misstep once, that time a few months ago, when he lamented his past before Sinbad; the magi was hardly a good actor. It was that raw hurt and disbelief and agony crackling his voice that had touched Sinbad in a place he didn't know he still had. That boy was hurting too much for Sinbad to just sit back and say nothing, as he had done for so many years before. Somehow, he seemed more deserving of compassion now than he had been then, because now Judal had grown to understand. The look in those gleaming, crimson eyes was too intelligent and too aware to be ignored forever, and it was beginning to grow far deeper than Sinbad had ever imagined it could.

As of recent events, Judal's eyes always seemed to be screaming whenever he came to Sinbad. There was something that he couldn't say, whether that was due to pride or obligation, and yet it was too obvious how he was silently begging to be heard. Sinbad felt something tighten in his chest whenever Judal looked at him with those eyes-those desperate, bloody eyes, and simply replaying the memory of him made Sinbad feel as though he were going to melt.

It certainly didn't hurt that Judal was very beautiful, either. Sinbad had known Judal since he was young, from a distance at least, and that baby-faced little boy was worlds apart from Judal as he appeared now. He had something of an androgynous grace; his innate prowess and sculpted abdomen paired with that long hair and those delicate features to make for an astonishingly pretty picture. Though, with that figure, beautiful as it was, sometimes Sinbad couldn't help but worry if he were actually eating. Did they ever think to feed him, in Kou?

Sinbad didn't like to think that he was fantasizing, but as time went on that was often what it felt like. Mountains of paperwork could become so awfully boring, and Judal was anything but. Just thinking of what that body could do, that sly smile and slender waist and those tantalizing hips was nearly too much to bear. Sinbad was almost paralyzed imagining what was concealed beneath his waistline: legs that would surely be slender and elegant, smooth and graceful and untouched. He had never seen the curvature of Judal's legs, always draped in the heavy black fabric of his leg dress. He wondered if Judal might show him sometime.

Sinbad forced the idea from his mind and heaved a deep sigh, massaging his temples in hopes to will the thought away. What Sinbad really needed was a distraction-from work, from Judal, and from everything else.

A knock on the door roused him from his thoughts, and Sinbad glanced up from the desk to find Ja'far entering the chamber with a scowl. Sinbad brightened.

"Ja'far!" he began, already moving to stand. "Just the man I wanted to see."

"Don't act so surprised, this is my job after all," Ja'far grumbled, rolling his eyes. When his gaze passed over Sinbad and the blank sheet of paper before him, he couldn't contain a groan. "Have you even started on your paperwork? For god's sake, Sin, its almost nightfall already!"

Sinbad waved a hand. "Oh, forget the paperwork! We have more important things to do."

Ja'far raised a pale eyebrow. "Like what?"

Sinbad came out from behind his desk and approached, clapping a hand on Ja'far's shoulder. "I think this place is in dire need of a celebration, don't you think?

Jafar sighed. "What's the occasion?"

"Do we need one?" Sinbad countered, grinning. "That's never stopped us before. Have a summons sent out to the townspeople and have the grounds prepared for festivities. I'm tired of being cooped up in here all the time."

"This seems unnecessary," Ja'far began, glancing up at Sinbad with skepticism written all over his features, "and out of the blue. Are you sure that there's no occasion for this?"

The thought of telling Ja'far his true intentions immediately crossed Sinbad's mind. But that would make things overly complicated, and Ja'far would never agree if he knew, and Sinbad could not imagine that his advisor would be very pleased to discover what really occupied his thoughts and distracted him from his paperwork. It wasn't as though Sinbad was in love, or anything of the sort, but this sudden infatuation was something he did not think he could endure for very much longer without a break.

"Is there anything wrong with wanting to have a bit of fun?" Sinbad asked, eyes gleaming. "Not everything is that deep, you know."

Ja'far frowned, and pursed his lips as though he wanted to say something, but swallowed the remark with a sigh. "Well, alright," he conceded, and Sinbad met him with a grin. "But you'll have to finish all of your paperwork tomorrow."

"Of course, of course," he laughed, but a part of him knew that Ja'far didn't buy the sudden bright idea. Ja'far had known him for too long to blindly accept everything he said, the man was far too perceptive for his own good, and Sinbad would have a lot of explaining to do come morning. But that was fine. Tonight, Sinbad was desperate for something to distract him, for something to take his mind off of Judal, if but for a night. He was sure that he'd feel better after a drink.

Judal had never attended one of Sindria's infamous festivals, and he hadn't planned on doing so anytime in the near future. However, a long night of boredom, impulsive thought, and Kougyoku's encouragement led him here, to the buzzing streets of Sindria, and Judal couldn't decide whether he felt regret or excitement.

It wouldn't have mattered what he wore if it were just him and Sinbad, because there was never a need to hide around the man. Tonight, though, with the commotion in the streets and even the poorest of Sindrians in their best attire, Judal suddenly felt very out of place and very vulnerable in his everyday clothing. Not to mention that walking so freely throughout the streets was just asking for someone familiar to stumble upon him, and Judal wasn't about to be caught in such an act.

The best he could do with such limited time and resources was to snatch a few garments from various merchants when he was sure they wouldn't take notice. As he stood now, a long, silky fabric draped over his forearms and behind his back to conceal the shimmering gold of his bracelets, but softly tinkling bells had been strapped to his ankles for good measure. A veil fell over his nose and mouth while the filmy, transparent fabric of his skirt clung to his slender legs, and a loose garment fell over his upper chest and golden necklace in some vain attempt to conceal his lack of endowment. His dark hair had been set free from its heavy braid and spilled effortlessly over his shoulders, though it had a tendency to drag along the ground when he walked, and Judal silently prayed that no one would step on it in the crowded streets. He decided that it might be easiest to masquerade as a woman, and from the response he received, was fairly confident that he could pull it off.

Judal vaguely wondered if Sinbad would find him attractive, dressed in all white, so vastly different from his usual, ebony-clad form. Sinbad was always basking in a sheen of bright white; it flocked to him and washed over him in gentle waves, and Judal often felt as though that light were too overpowering for him to bear. Judal, the black sun, felt as though Sinbad's light could swallow up every ounce of darkness within him without the slightest hesitation, and yet there was a part of him that didn't mind that. Judal couldn't help but think that white rather suited him, and perhaps Sinbad might think so too.

Although the disguise was intended to draw attention away from Judal, now it seemed to do anything but. While Judal usually did not mind the attention, the hushed comments and the awe-filled stares, it was a bit of a nuisance now, when he was making a genuine effort to be discreet. That couldn't be helped, though. Regardless of where he went or how he dressed, Judal was always at the center of attention, whether he liked that or not.

The palace grounds were always beautiful, but they were especially breathtaking now, with the lanterns strung up from the trees and the pleasant aroma of the feast wafting through the courtyard. Already there were people dancing to the beat of the tabla and the sitar as music and laughter filled the air, but Judal was quickly beginning to feel claustrophobic. He had come here prepared only to meet Sinbad, not to face all of this, and suddenly he felt as though he never should have come.

As soon as Judal turned to leave, his eyes locked with Sinbad's. It wasn't hard to find him, glistening in jewelry and draped in beautiful exotic women, but the moment scarlet met gold Judal felt his heart stop. He watched, paralyzed, as Sinbad stared back at him with wide eyes, and after a moment of silence he whispered something to the women who groaned and whined in protest. Judal's pulse quickened when Sinbad stood and approached, with a swagger in his step that Judal could not differentiate between confidence and intoxication. Perhaps there was a bit of both.

Sinbad stopped before him, almost too close, and Judal fought the desire to take a step back. "I knew there was something different about you," he began softly with lips curled into a smirk, and a shiver went through Judal at the sultry simper in his breath.

Judal was prepared to spit something bitter back at him, but something stopped him before he could. Something was different about Sinbad; there was a look in his eyes that Judal could not place, something that he had never seen before, and if he had it was surely never directed at him. The warmth in his features chilled Judal to the bone, it was something so foreign to him, so different and kind and loving that Judal's heart caught in his throat. The Sinbad he knew would never look at him like this.

Judal swallowed. "I..."

"What is your name, fair princess?"

Judal froze. Sinbad didn't recognize him. Judal was certain that his disguise was obvious enough; he had done very little in the way of concealing the nature of his true appearance, but maybe if Sinbad was just a little drunk or stupid enough, he might actually be deceived. Judal hadn't intended for this to happen, the disguise was only a precaution, but if Sinbad really didn't recognize him...

"I am no princess," Judal retorted with a roll of his eyes, raising his pitch just slightly, and the veil muffling the movement of his lips rendered his voice just different enough. "And my name doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," Sinbad purred, reaching up a hand to rest upon Judal's cheek, only for him to slap it away. If Sinbad even accidentally managed to pull down his veil, Judal was sure he would be furious at being fooled, and the magi wasn't ready to face that yet.

"It shouldn't," Judal grumbled, hoping that Sinbad might take the hint. He didn't.

Sinbad's smirk only grew, and he chose to rest his hand upon Judal's shoulder instead. "How could I convince you to tell me?"

"What do you have to offer?" Judal asked, eyes narrowing.

"Well," he began, "you don't seem like the sort of woman to want money." Judal tried not to cringe at 'woman'. "Nor anything material I might have to offer. Perhaps I could convince you with a dance?"

Judal's breath hitched. Sinbad had always been so unattainable, so distant, something that Judal could never have despite all his years of yearning. And yet here was Sinbad, palm outstretched with a smile, asking him to dance. Judal couldn't wrap his head around it. Despite any hopes he might still have, Judal always knew deep within himself that Sinbad would never care for him. This sudden, newfound affection wasn't for Judal, but for the mysterious, nameless woman of his disguise. But oddly enough, that was fine. As long as Sinbad wanted him in this very moment, just for a split second, Judal could live with that.

"Maybe," he whispered, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks. Sinbad was quick to grin as he slipped Judal's soft hand into his own and guided him out to the center of the crowded courtyard. Judal's head was spinning, but Sinbad's hand, warm and steady in his grip, was reassurance enough. Still, he couldn't imagine how he was going to dance when he could hardly remain upright.

"Don't look so nervous," Sinbad chuckled, and Judal frowned.

"I'm not," he lied, heart racing. The commotion around them slowly began to dim, and Judal could feel the countless eyes on him; the King and his partner. "People are going to stare," he murmured, as if that would change anything. Judal wouldn't have minded so much if it were just him, he was used to the attention after all, but this wasn't just him, it was him and Sinbad, High King of the Seven Seas, the want of every woman in the kingdom.

"That doesn't matter," said Sinbad with a reassuring smile. "As beautiful as you are, I thought you'd be used to it." Judal turned red.

At the first pluck of the sitar, the first steady beat of the tabla, nothing mattered anymore. They circled each other, Sinbad confident and in control, and Judal softer, nervous but fluid as he felt the grain of the stone beneath his bare feet. Amber locked with crimson as the beat picked up, in time with Judal's heartbeat, and any trepidation he may have had was immediately alleviated once the music coursed through his body.

The music of Sindria was nothing like that of Kou, fast and erratic and upbeat, nothing like the regal, melodious hum of the festivities in Kou. Judal much preferred to dance this way, loose and free and here, with Sinbad. Judal's hips rolled in time with the beat, the bells at his ankles clinked at his every step, and he could feel the hunger in the onlookers' gazes, but they didn't seem to matter anymore. The only person he cared about now, in this moment, was Sinbad.

Judal shed every bit of worry and every ounce of nervousness within him. He felt himself laugh and looked up to see Sinbad grinning back at him, eyes bright and glowing as he gazed into him. Judal forgot to care that Sinbad didn't know who he was, that this would all be over in a matter of seconds as the beat neared its climax, he didn't care. All he cared about was his body moving in time with Sinbad, heart and mind in sync, and for a split second, Judal was allowed to forget who he was.

With the final note of the song, Sinbad pulled Judal into his embrace, and they stood like that, bodies pressed up against each other. Judal faintly heard applause from onlookers in the distance, but he couldn't be bothered to notice, not when he was this close to Sinbad, could see the beads of sweat dripping from his forehead, could feel his chest rise and fall in the effort to regain his lost breath. Sinbad was grinning down at him, and as Judal smiled back up at him, he felt as though he were going to melt.

"Now," he breathed, "how about a name?"

Judal came crashing back to reality. He couldn't admit who he was, not now, not after that rush of emotion; he couldn't bear to watch Sinbad's features twist in familiar disgust and hatred, to humiliate him in front of all these people. He didn't think he could stand it. "I... ah..."

"Wait," Sinbad paused, gazing deep into Judal's features. Judal's chest tightened. "Those eyes... I've seen those eyes before," he began, eyes widening in disbelief as he raised a hand, and Judal shoved out of his arms before Sinbad could lift the veil. He knew that he had pushed his luck to remain here so long as he turned and shoved his way through the dense crowd. Already, whispers were beginning to circulate around him, but Judal didn't care, he had to get out of this place, out of this stupid country where everyone was happy, and away from that stupid king.

"Wait!" Sinbad called again, "Judal!"

The magi cringed, but didn't hesitate. There was no doubt in Judal's mind that any look of adoration, desire and want in Sinbad would never rightfully be spared for him, and he didn't want to live in a fantasy any longer. This infatuation with Sinbad had caused him nothing but agony, and Judal was tired of suffering from it. Judal broke free from the palace grounds and Sinbad's calls fell on deaf ears as he snatched his carefully hidden magic carpet and flew off into the night.

A/N: *u cant just tell me that sindria is based off of india and expect me, an indian, not to insert a bollywood dance scene lmao like