On a rare diplomatic visit to Sindria, Kouen becomes smitten with the sweet smile and gentle manners of his white-haired, freckled guide – and falls even harder when he discovers the man's hidden, but in no way capped, fangs. (It's just too bad for Kouen that, while Sinbad definitely isn't the jealous type, there's one person in the world he won't ever be keen on sharing.)
Pairing(s): one-sided EnJa, SinJa
Word count: 2398
Warning(s): references to M-rated matters, and a bit of violence.
When his workaholic of a younger brother had finally succeeded in nagging him into visiting Sindria on peaceful terms at least once before issuing any declarations of war, Ren Kouen honestly hadn't been expecting much.
The island kingdom was just as beautiful as stories would have it, sure: open air markets bedecked with colorful silks and smelling of exotic spices, functional but lovely architecture and thriving greenery everywhere, and gorgeous weather that would have been too hot to bear, if not for the pleasant sea breeze that seemed to blow through every nook and cranny of the massive capital.
But all the same, Kouen had soon found himself missing the open, airy feel of the Kou Empire's palace, the quiet and the rigid adherence to courtly decorum that everyone, even most royals like himself, exhibited there: the handsome white stone buildings of Sindria's capital were all so close together as to be almost stacked on top of one another, and the city's people, while remarkably cheerful, were not nearly deferent enough for Kouen's taste. Frankly, the kingdom seemed to reflect its ruler – flashy, loud, and so overly friendly (at least in appearance) as to be disrespectful – far more than Kouen was comfortable with.
But there was one little factor that, in the Kou prince's eyes, had made this trip all worth it: the guide he had been appointed with upon his arrival.
General Ja'far, Head Advisor to the King of Sindria and, if hearsay was to be believed, Sinbad's closest friend and most trusted confidant, was a breath of fresh air in the lively, bustling atmosphere of the small country.
He carried himself with a silent dignity, demurely covering his mouth with his wide sleeves whenever a smile curled his lips, keeping his head held high but his eyes deferentially lowered in Kouen's presence. He remained a few feet behind Kouen at all times, as was proper, despite being in the process of showing the foreign prince around the Sindrian palace, and walked with short, silent steps that made his government official's robes flow elegantly around his slight frame. Even his voice, somewhat husky but soft and unwaveringly polite, was a balm to Kouen's frayed nerves after their exploration of the crowded city below.
As Ja'far led him to what would be the final stop in their long tour, the throne room, Kouen couldn't help but slow down a few paces so that he might walk beside the Advisor rather than before him – thus enabling him to sneak sly glances at his guide, for, while Ja'far wasn't exactly a paragon of the Kou empire's standards of beauty, Kouen found the green-clad man to be quite bewitching indeed.
Skin almost as fair as his hair, which was a white color that edged towards silver in darker lighting; a pretty, boyish face adorned with a sprinkling of freckles Kouen could only call charming; large, doe-like gray eyes that softened delightfully whenever the reserved man smiled politely at the Kou prince. Ja'far wasn't exactly small, but he was no giant, and even through his loose robes it was plain to see that the man was very slim – petit enough, in fact, that Kouen found himself picturing the way Ja'far's white head would fit just perfectly in the crook of his shoulder if they were ever to curl up together in bed after a long, satisfying night of passionate—
"We have arrived, Your Highness," Ja'far declared as he halted before a tall, wide set of doors that were lavishly decorated with arabesque patterns painted with copper and gold, a faint shimmer over the wood signifying the presence of magical shielding despite the doors' seemingly flimsy appearance.
Kouen stepped forward, and Ja'far smoothly slid aside, bowing his head in the process and lowering his eyes demurely – completely unaware of the way he had effortlessly captivated his King's guest with this show of serpentine grace. The Sindrian general knocked once on the doors and, with a faint pulse from the wards as they recognized the touch of his magoi, the doors began to open, seemingly of their own accord.
The throne room within was rather grand, Kouen supposed, but nothing like his father's own back in Kou: maybe there was some truth to the rumors that Sinbad was the sort of King who affirmed his dominion over his people through his actions rather than his wealth. At any rate, the place certainly wasn't lacking in beauty, festooned as it was with ornaments in hues of amber, gold and royal purple that, Kouen realized as the King of Sindria left his throne and glided over to greet them, had been chosen with Sinbad's coloring in mind.
"Well met, Ren Kouen, first prince of the Kou Empire, and welcome to Sindria," the man in question said gravely as he offered Kouen a regal nod of his head – not as polite as a bow, but as a king to Kouen's prince, Sinbad was technically his better, so Kouen did not take offence. They spent a brief moment scrutinizing each other, assessing each other for visible weaknesses and maintaining their veneers of civility despite their frustration upon finding none.
"Ja'far," Sinbad began after a few long moments, and when his gaze left Kouen to land on the Head Advisor's upturned face, it softened visibly. "Thank you for taking the time to act as Prince Kouen's guide at my request; I know how busy your days are even without me weighing you down with yet more work."
Ja'far, apparently unperturbed by this almost scandalous show of familiarity between ruler and subject that Kouen couldn't help but frown at, beamed up at the Sindrian King, and there was something in that gentle expression that made Ja'far look somehow even more radiant than he had when smiling courteously at the foreign crown prince. Kouen's breath hitched upon seeing the loyalty and trust that shone from every inch of the Head Advisor's face, but Sinbad didn't even blink, as though this were a sight he was graced with every day – which, in fact, it most likely was, and Kouen found himself swallowing back bitter envy with difficulty.
"I live to serve you, my King," Ja'far replied with the absolute, unshakable certainty of one announcing that the sky was blue and the grass was green. Then he bowed, his bejeweled brow almost touching the joined hands that were hidden beneath his sleeves as he bent forward, and went on: "You're right though, Lord Sin: I really must be going. All that paperwork isn't going to sign itself. Prince Kouen, it was my honor and pleasure to meet you."
And just like that, the General straightened and whirled on his feet, striding off towards to parts unknown without a backwards glance.
Kouen was struck with a sudden desire to call him back before he could slip away, perhaps slide a suggestive hand down the slight man's side and ask if he'd be interested in dropping by his guest chambers tonight after the feast in the honor of Kouen's arrival, but restrained himself. Propositioning the Head Advisor in front of Sindria's King would have been an exceedingly improper, not to mention foolish, move, and regardless, Kouen knew that it wasn't only devotion he had seen in Ja'far's eyes when the man looked at Sinbad. Chances of any such offer ever being accepted at this point in time were so low as to be nonexistent.
Kouen was just about to force his mind back on track and begin what would no doubt be the first of many rounds of verbal jousting with the King of Sindria – and then the sound of glass shattering echoed through the room, followed by that of bare feet hitting the shiny marble floor.
"SINBAD!" thundered the intruder as he used one meaty hand to remove the shards of windowpane that clung to his clothing after he'd jumped through it, the other brandishing a wickedly curved scimitar towards a wide-eyed King. "YOU BASTARD, I'LL MAKE YOU PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TO ME! HOW DARE YOU SEDUCE BOTH MY WIFE AND MY DAUGHTER AWAY FROM OUR HOME? I'LL KILL YOU—"
Thwack-thwack!
Two triangular daggers, looking not unlike large metallic fangs, flashed past the heavyset man, pinning him through the wall by his clothing in the blink of an eye. The man's bellowing voice dwindled into a tiny, rather pathetic squeak when he realized that the blades that had bitten deeply into the stone surface were in fact mere millimeters away from having pierced through his throat, and that the fabric of his collar was now pulled so taut across said throat that his airways were restricted quite handily.
As one, two pairs of royal eyes slowly followed twin red wires from the daggers they were attached to, to the man these weapons had just been fired by – and, again, simultaneously, they found themselves gulping in a combination of apprehension and attraction.
Gone was the sweet, soft-spoken government official Kouen had come to…appreciate so much since their introduction that very morning. Stood in his place was a small but intimidating hardened assassin, who was staring down at the intruder he had just incapacitated in mere seconds with an expression reminiscent of a slowly brewing storm – the kind that sank dozens of ships in one fell swoop and produced enough hail to ruin any crops its storm clouds happened to float over. His previously gentle eyes were now narrow and slanted, irises lightened to steel-grey reminiscent of the man's twin weapons and pupils looking almost like reptilian slits, making Ja'far appear irresistibly reminiscent of a viper about to strike.
(A shiver licked down Kouen's spine, and it wasn't one of fear.)
"If you don't give up and shut up," said the young advisor, slow and clear and so loaded with venom his words positively dripped with it, "the one who's going to get killed is you. Scum."
And then, as if a coin had been flipped, Ja'far smiled, and was a harmless paper-pusher again, one who was apparently satisfied that his terrifyingly delivered command – or perhaps lack of air – had caused the intruder to faint dead-away.
Before gravity could strangle the man regardless of Ja'far's decision to spare his miserable life, he retracted his knives from the wall with a simple tug of his arms. The blade-tipped wires tore sinuously through the air and wrapped themselves around the Sindrian Head Advisor's forearms in a manner that couldn't possibly be natural – and indeed, a crackle of blue electricity along one of the wires gave away the weapon's status as a household vessel.
Ja'far's eyes, soft and kind once more, slid over to Sinbad, and the freckled man smiled at him, somehow exuding blood-lust and menace despite the expression looking entirely sweet in every possible way. "There, Sin. Problem solved; I'll send palace guards over to clean up the mess shortly. Maybe this incident will teach you not to mess with married women in the future, hmm?"
The white-haired General turned to leave, halting only a moment in the throne room's doorway to speak a few last words: "No partying with Sharrkan and the others for a month." And then he was gone.
As Sinbad's dramatic wails of denial and pleads for a retracting of Ja'far's ultimatum rang through the entire palace, Kouen found himself mentally replaying the events of the past few minutes in quick snapshots of memory: Ja'far's seemingly delicate frame possessing the stillness of a predator right before he made his strike, Ja'far's eyes spitting fire and poison at the man, however powerless and incompetent, who had threatened his King, Ja'far issuing dire warnings in a voice like silk over razorblades.
And Kouen smiled, realizing that his earlier opinion of Ja'far had now changed irrevocably.
Kouen no longer wanted Ja'far to warm his bed: oh, no. Now, Kouen was determined to make him his Empress.
"Sin? What's this I hear about Prince Kouen suddenly finding himself taken ill with indigestion this morning?"
Resting his chin idly in his palm, the king of Sindria kept his eyes trained intently on his most loyal subordinate as the man bustled about the royal chambers, opening curtains, airing out the room and picking out Sinbad's clothes for the day ahead, as was their morn ritual. Sinbad was still sitting idle despite the relatively late hour, bare as the day he was born and tangled up in the sheets of his enormous bed, but Ja'far didn't even spare the sight of his king's nakedness a glance, far too used to it to be particularly bothered or enticed by it.
Sinbad didn't like that. He'd already been deprived of his friend and lover's presence for nearly all of yesterday, so he wasn't about to allow the younger man to ignore him now.
"I have no idea, Ja'far. Why, how could you possibly suspect me of being involved in an incident that could jeopardize future relations with Kou in such a way?" Sinbad replied, dramatically placing a hand over his heart as if it were paining him and looking at the ex-assassin with golden eyes full of emotional agony and betrayal.
Ja'far spared him a dry look as he efficiently folded a set of pure white robes with purple accents over the back of the chair that sat by Sin's well-stocked vanity (and to think people didn't believe him when he claimed that Sinbad was far more vain about his looks than he pretended to be).
Sinbad withstood the force of that familiar countenance, a mix of exasperation and fondness and a warning that if Sin didn't convince him not to in the next five seconds Ja'far would be soundly smacking him 'round the head until said noggin was knocked straight, before caving. "I don't like the way he looks at you."
The white-haired advisor rolled his eyes upward, a silent supplication to the heavens to save him from pouty, unreasonable kings, before trotting over to the bed and bending at the waist to press his lips to the pleasantly surprised king's.
"There's only one person whose eyes I enjoy having on me," Ja'far told him earnestly as he threaded his fingers through long, unbound purple locks, "and that person isn't Prince Kouen."
And Sinbad smiled, a gentle expression that made his aureate eyes fairly twinkle with the fondness he felt for the man before him. "Quite right, too."
- END -
And there you have it.
A bit of non-angsty EnJa because I can appreciate that pairing from time to time, even though it's only one-sided here; and some SinJa, because they belong together and no-one will ever be able to convince me otherwise.
The next chapter will be a tad more serious, but I generally prefer to write light-hearted fluff, humor and romance with only a touch of drama thrown in, so...
(By the way, in case anyone was wondering, I did not deliberately publish two stories in a row whose title contained the word 'shine'... That was a blunder caused by my utter lack of talent when it comes to picking titles for my stories (as any who have read "Super Matchmaker Kusakabe" could attest), and my desperation after having spent a full forty-five minutes searching desperately through hundreds of pages of song lyrics for any excerpts that make for an even remotely appropriate title. The lyrics are from the song "Boats and Birds" by Grergory and the Hawk, by the way, which I also do not own.)
Well. That's that. See you all next time. Might be an update as soon as tomorrow, actually. ;)
Saggezza out!
