Once upon a time, which is as good a way to start a story as any, there was a young man named Sinbad who lived in a village by the sea. He was a handsome man, with sun-kissed skin and bright eyes, whose wit and charm captivated all who spoke to him. Orphaned at a young age, he was a child of the village and of the sea: a man equally at home on water or land.

And on this time, this day so long ago and yet not so distant at all, a storm was raging. Even though it was day, the sky was black as pitch, and below the darkened sky the sea was a coarsely chopped mess of waves and swells. Sinbad scowled at the scene from within his home- a modest affair like the rest of the houses in his village, sitting astride a dock he had built himself a few years prior when the old one had been washed away in a storm like this. This weather was trouble. If the storm continued, houses could be lost or ships dragged away.

Sinbad stepped out onto his dock to make sure his own boats were well attached. The rain drenched his clothes in an instant, and slicked his long hair to his face. Sin pushed his bangs from his face as he checked the lines. All good- no sign that they'd slip. He'd sleep easier tonight knowing that his livelihood was safe. As he turned to go back inside, something in the swells caught his eye. Sinbad turned back, squinting at the waves.

But the waves were empty. "Funny," he said, "I thought I saw someone out there. Must have been-" And then the figure returned- a lone person out in the waves. Sinbad's heart raced into action, and before he had time to even think, he had stripped off his soaked shirt and dived into the water to save them.

The water was cold as ice, but Sinbad was used to chill seas. His truest enemies were the waves, giant things he had to dive under to avoid being drowned by as he sliced his way through to the unconscious figure in the drift. He reached the man as fast as he could, but before he could grab hold, they were both buffeted by a wave. Sinbad held his breath, but the man in the water took the wave full force. Sinbad reached out while they were still underwater, wrapping an arm around the man's chest and pulling them both back up. They surfaced, but the man in his grip did not take a full gasp of precious air as Sinbad did.

Sinbad towed him back to shore as fast as he could, but each swell of the water threatened to end them both. Still, Sinbad could see the best line through the currents, knew these seas and their anger well enough to swim through the storm to bring them back to the dock, where Sinbad threw the man up and then crawled up after him, panting from the exertion.

He crawled over the man, pressing a hand to his neck to feel for a pulse. Still alive- good. Next he felt for breath- none. Sinbad lifted the man's head gently and bent over him. Their lips pressed together as he breathed for the man. Once, twice, then compressing his chest, then back to breathing for him, until the man gave a horrible, sputtering cough and rolled over, vomiting seawater and shaking. His dark hair hung in a lank curtain around his face, and Sinbad was struck with his beauty.

The man lifted his head, staring at Sinbad with a wild gaze. "...Golden eyes…" he groaned, and then collapsed again, unconscious. Sinbad gathered the man in his arms and carried him inside, laying him gently by the fire. In the light he was even more handsome, with fine features and a lithe body. At his neck was clasped a golden choker set with a bright red stone, and his wrists were encircled with similar fineries. Sinbad grabbed a spare blanket and toweled him as dry as he could manage before tucking the man into his own bed.

As the day wore on, Sinbad tried to keep himself occupied, but his thoughts kept returning to the man sleeping in his bed. How had he ended up in the storm? Where had he come from? What was his name, and was he interested in handsome sailors? But the man in his bed slept on, offering Sinbad no answers.

Night brought with it clear skies- a brief respite before the storm returned, fiercer than before. Sinbad slipped outside to get some fresh air and stretch his legs, tired of being cooped up in his house. The storm would continue- for now he wanted to get some work-

"Don't tell me you're about to go off adventuring without me," came a lilting voice from behind him.

Sinbad whirled around to see the strange man he'd rescued idling against his house. The man gave him a lazy little wave, a smile playing across his lips. Sinbad laughed and straightened from his work. "You're awake. I was starting to worry you'd never wake up."

The man laughed, running a hand through the loose hair about his face. "I'm fond of naps. It's my prerogative. So, Sinbad, have you ever thought you were meant for more than this? Want to go on an adventure with me?"

Sinbad gave him a curious look. "Excuse me?"

The man shrugged. "You heard me. You deserve better than this crap." He kicked a pile of rope and it went spilling across the dock. "Tying knots, catching fish, haven't you ever felt like you were meant for more?"

Sinbad laughed, running a hand through his hair. "You know there's a lot more to sailing and fishing than that, right? It takes a lot of work."

"I don't really care?"

"Did you just say that as a question, or is that just the cadence of your voice?" Sinbad stooped to gather the rope back up. What a mess. He was going to have to deal with this guy; this town was too small to support two cocky troublemakers.

"Maybe I'll just keep asking questions until you answer my first one." The man stooped as well, tapping his finger into Sinbad's nose.

Sinbad shrugged. "I guess when I was a young boy I thought there would be more grand adventures, but then the wars came, and after that the illnesses… Not too many people left here who can work, so the burden of caring for the town falls to those of us who will rise up to their duty."

The man laughed, flopping backwards on his butt. "Well then do I have good news for your inner child." His red eyes seemed almost to glow in the gloom. "Because you do have a destiny bigger than this dump. Bigger than you could imagine, even."

Sinbad felt a shiver run through his body. It was a tempting thought, and in this moment, bathed in starlight and staring into the eyes of this strange man he'd rescued from the swells, it seemed like an almost possible one. A playful smirk quirked up the corner of his mouth. "And what kind of destiny could that be?"

The man stood in a flash, turning from Sinbad and starting back towards land. "Follow me," he teased, "and you'll find out."

Sinbad looked at his house, then his boat, then the stormy sky, and finally after the man who was rapidly disappearing into the night's gloom. "Can I at least know your name first?"

He paused, glancing back over his shoulder to look curiously at Sinbad. "It's Judal."

No one would be able to sail for awhile with that storm brewing, Sinbad rationalized to himself, and Judal assured him that after their adventure was over, Sinbad would be able to help his dinky little village far more than a day or two's fish would. Sinbad grabbed what he could before following Judal- his disappointingly light coin purse, his father's old sword, and a loose bag to carry things in that he didn't have time to fill. He had to run to catch up with Judal, and thus the two set out, walking through the night and then on till dawn, Judal's bouncing step seeming tireless. The first few hours had been hard for Sinbad, but once the sun had started to rise the light gave him a second wind and he pushed onwards as though he had never faltered.

"So Judal," Sinbad said as they crested a hill. "What is this adventure you've invited me along for?"

Judal smiled. "Isn't the mystery part of the fun?"

"Well-" Sinbad sputtered a little. "Well, yes, mystery's part of it, but a mystery isn't fun unless you have all the pieces to put it together."

"Fair point," Judal replied, but he didn't elaborate.

Sinbad scowled. "This whole trip is going to be pulling teeth, isn't it?"

"Oh, is that what you're into?" Judal teased. "I was wondering how you had such perfect ones. It's like a palace wall they're so even."

"Hey!" Sinbad laughed. "Okay, how about we try a different question then… how did you end up in that storm?"

That silenced Judal, and not in the impish way he had refused to speak before. Sinbad watched him chew over the question in his mind before he spoke. "I misjudged a landing," he said, "but it worked out. I ended up exactly where I needed to be."

"And that is?"

Judal stopped and stared Sinbad in the face with the same intensity he'd had when he awoke from drowning. Sinbad wondered if he'd said something wrong, or if there was something else going on beyond what he knew. "By your side," Judal said finally. "The moment I saw your eyes I knew you were exactly the man that I have been looking for." He turned, his serious look gone in an instant, and the mischievous grin back in its place. "We're almost to our waypoint- there's a transport stone in not too long ahead, and that can jolt us closer to the kingdom!"

"I- what?" Sinbad felt a stupid, surprised grin spread on his face. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"And that's why I'm the wizard here." Judal sounded entirely too pleased with himself.

"Oh, you're a wizard, huh? Why didn't you magic yourself to safety then?"

"I told you, my spell already put me exactly where I needed to be. And now, Sinbad, I'm going to take you where you need to be."

Sinbad shrugged and laughed, letting Judal lead the way. He was a strange man, to be sure, and if Sinbad were a wiser man, he'd have worried about trusting him on this adventure. But as it was, he was far too interested to see what Judal had planned to back out now.

They reached a clearing paved with a loose layer of pebbles, and in the center stood a tall white rock that pierced the sky. Judal lead them up to it, placing his hand on the rock and then looking back at Sinbad.

"So tell me, Sinbad," Judal said, suddenly serious once more. "Do you accept responsibility for your actions from here out?"

Sinbad raised his eyebrows. "I was under the impression that I was already doing that."

Judal laughed. "I'm just saying, once we pass through to the kingdom there will be no turning back. What happens there will change you- probably for good."

Sinbad felt his pulse quicken, but he did not falter. "How so?"

Judal's face split into an even wider grin. "I have come here to find you, to bring you to meet your destiny! Even if I wanted to tell you that you were a-" and with that his mouth suddenly snapped shut, and Judal made a frustrated face, working his lips like they had been sewn shut. When they opened again- "Augh! Fine, see? I can't even say it. The magic protecting and sealing all of this is too strong. But I can tell you this- I owe you a life debt. I wouldn't willfully hurt you. And yeah, your life is gonna change, and yeah, I can't promise it'll wholly be for the better. I can't see the future. But what's waiting for you? It's got the power to make things a hell of a lot better for you."

Sinbad considered all of that… but not perhaps as long as he should have. He put a hand on Judal's shoulder and nodded. "What point would there be in only coming up to the first dull checkpoint? Take me to my destiny."

"That's what I wanted to hear," Judal cackled, and the stone began to glow under his hand, power rippling through the air as spiderwebs of crackling force splintered across the stone's face. And then there was a great jolt, like being bucked from the back of a horse, and the two of them landed in a crumpled heap in a thorny rose bed. "Ooof… I really need to get better at my landings…"

Sinbad opened his mouth to say something back, but then Judal's elbow slammed into his gut, knocking the wind out of him. Judal clambered out of the bush, dusting off his clothes. Sinbad grumbled as he followed suit, his clothes snagging on the thorns. "Where are we?" he finally managed to ask, looking around. They appeared to have landed in some long-forgotten courtyard. The walls were overgrown with strange, flowerless vines, and the cobblestones of the yard were cracked and half covered with dirt and moss.

"A forgotten kingdom," Judal said. "Ah, apparently that's vague enough to not set off the spell. "Would you believe this place has only been abandoned for a few decades? Amazing what a well-wrought curse can do… Well, no sense dwelling! Come along!"

And then Judal was off again, and Sinbad took one more moment to take in the strange melancholy of the yard before following after him. Wherever they were going, Judal seemed to know the way, moving with confidence through winding walls and under trellises until the garden finally birthed them before a grand door.

"What do you remember about your parents?" Judal asked as he hopped up to the door, giving it a futile tug. Locked.

Sinbad shrugged, watching Judal scurry about. "My father died before I was born, and my mother followed him a few years after giving birth to me. I barely remember her face." Maybe it was the strange, quiet sadness of this forgotten place, or maybe it was the feeling of freedom that speaking to a stranger who will not judge your story gives, but Sinbad found himself going on. "I remember her voice though. She always used to tell me stories of my father like he was a great, brave hero, and I remember listening for hours and hours until I fell asleep." He placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, tilting it slightly. "This was my father's, before he died."

"Well that certainly makes things less complicated," Judal said, stepping away from the door. "We're going to need that sword. But first-" he raised a hand, and a blast of energy blew the door straight off its hinges, "we're going to need to reach the throne room."

This time following Judal was a madcap dash that left Sinbad no time to acclimate to his surroundings or drink in the atmosphere. They slid around corners, dashed up stairs, and passed in and out of rooms, Judal like a hound on the hunt for a fox.

"Wouldn't the throne room logically be on the main floor?" Sinbad asked as they dashed up another flight of stairs.

"This is a forgotten place," Judal replied, rounding a corner so sharply that Sinbad almost smacked into the wall instead. "And so, it's forgotten how to exist. We just need to get high enough that the magic will be thinner, and we can unlock the door."

"Is that how it works?" Sinbad jumped over a fallen suit of armor.

"Hopefully!"

They raced up another flight of stairs, this one winding up and up in tighter and tighter circles until it felt like every step was an about face violently flinging them upwards. Judal's step faltered, and Sinbad caught him under the arm, half carrying him up the next few steps when suddenly there wasn't another step, and they stumbled face first into a landing. The hall was filled with even more of the strange, sad stillness that had overtaken the garden. The sound of their fall was like a violent intrusion, and Sinbad picked himself up as quietly as he could, looking around. The faces of long forgotten kings stared back at him- portraits he couldn't quite train his eye on well enough to memorize their features.

Judal rose almost as quietly, the only sound the clinking of his jewelry. "We did it," he whispered, looking over at Sinbad. "I've never made it here alone, not since it was lost."

Sinbad turned from the portraits and stared down the landing hall to a grand door in a mighty archway. "And that's the throne room?"

"Your throne room," Judal clarified.

Sinbad whipped his head to gape at Judal, but Judal was staring straight ahead.

"The lost prince of a forgotten kingdom, the only son of the queen who was spirited away before the spell's final words could be spoken. An heir to a throne that none can recall, a throne that has stood empty, devoid of king or kingly symbol." Judal turned, but he did not look Sinbad in the eye. "You said that sword belonged to your father?"

Sinbad's hand flew to the hilt.

Judal laughed. "Follow me just a little longer. Follow me and trust me." They walked down the hall to the grand arched doors. "Now," Judal turned to Sinbad, "you have to kiss me."

"What?" Sinbad gaped at Judal.

"I have the key," Judal said slowly, "to free it, you have to kiss me. Then we can open the throne room, and you can place the sword of the king in its rightful place, waking-"

Sinbad put a hand behind Judal's head, leaning in to kiss him. Judal's lips were petal-soft, and he made the softest noise of surprise as Sinbad gripped his dark hair, deepening the kiss. Then a tingle of magic passed between them, and Sinbad pulled away. Judal stared at him, half dazed, his bright eyes fuzzy with some sort of emotion that Sinbad didn't dare to name. And then Judal doubled over, coughing.

"Judal!"

"I'm fine-" Judal sputtered. "I'm-" he spat into his hand. "I'm fine." He straightened and held up a tiny golden key to Sinbad.

Sinbad took the key with reverence and turned to the door. "Thank you." He opened the door and strode forth. The air in the throne room was heavy, but Sinbad held his head high as he walked. The throne of his father, no, his own throne, called to him, and above it, there hung a mount to lay the sword as symbol of his kingly power. Sinbad drew the sword from its sheath. He had never really thought it all that impressive, but perhaps that was better for a king- a sword that would remind its wielder never to think himself better than the rest of the his people. For what was a king but a citizen of fate?

Sinbad laid the sword in its home. Unbidden words bubbled from his throat- "Your king has returned."

"Glory to Sindria," Judal echoed behind him. "Glory to freedom."

All around, the air lightened- walls cleared of ancient dust, the sky brightened, and the oppressive silence broke with a delicate thread of birdsong. Outside the kingdom was waking, a bright dawn revealing a land that was lush and new and old all at once. Sinbad turned around to find Judal standing at attention behind him. There were no words to describe the feeling that welled within his chest as he looked upon him, and so he leaned down and kissed Judal once again. This time, Judal kissed him back.