Happy Late-Anniversary Chapter, everyone!
I don't own Magi, the Adventures of Sinbad, or Harry Potter.
Yamraiha was still grumbling three months later.
Haides didn't understand her distaste for learning how to physically fight. She diligently hunted down Masrur for every one of their lessons, but she did it with a pout. Her sisters were much more excited, hounding Masrur at any moment, begging for an extra session or pointers on a hold.
It warmed Haides's dusty old heart to see his girls flip the muscular teenager over their hips with a giddy laugh.
He just wished Yamraiha indulged in her sisters' glee instead of stomping around with a permanent cloud over her head.
"Mama!" Ekaterina called, waving her arm widely, catching sight of the immortal. Her current watcher, the quiet but vigilant Aseneth, waited until Masrur nodded in acceptance before turning to greet the Master of the Pisces Tower with a nod.
Haides held back his amused grin. For all his stoic nature, Masrur had shown himself to be quite the little troll. The first time one of his girls turned away from his instruction to greet their watching 'master' without making sure Masrur would pause, he responded by tripping them.
It only took four meetings with the ground before the girls started to understand that they should never show their backs to their enemy. Not without making sure they were done, at least.
"Haides," the little lion greeted, nodding his head slightly. Haides copied, bowing his head lower in deference to the teenager. "Is there something wrong?"
"Oh, no," the djinn assured, noticing as Ekaterina and Aseneth perked up. "It's been surprisingly quiet, actually. Not an assassin to be seen for days."
"Of course not," Zillah remarked, slipping out of a column's shadow to stand beside Haides. No one was surprised by her sudden appearance, more than used to it. Haides had barely waited a day after Masrur 'took control' of the palace before pulling the blonde dancer aside to teach her how to hear without being seen and how to hide. He liked to think of her as his little assassin. The Ja'far to his Sinbad. He just needed to find the perfect weapon for the fierce little shadow. "With King Sinbad on his way back, no one wants to be…ah, caught with their pants down."
"Our king sure took his time," Haides said, canting his head. He remembered Solomon's promise of death and battle, with or without his assistance. He wondered which of the Court members would not be returning home. They were all strong warriors, more than capable of fending off anything Solomon's fate threw at them.
(The same could be said about Sheba and Solomon, however. Haides was enchanted with their will, with their strength. Only to end up with his King becoming a hollowed god and his lady-queen dead, cut down by the woman she saw as a sister. Fate, Solomon's or Ill Ilah's, was cruel.)
"A king is never late, everyone else is always early," Aseneth quipped, her smooth tenor barely a whisper.
Haides barked out a single laugh. "Don't let our king hear that," he warned her, jokingly. "He might take it seriously and give our poor little assassin an aneurysm."
"Nothing would ever get done," Zillah agreed.
"Mass chaos," Haides mused, his eyes narrowing in thought.
"Extra paperwork," his little shadow countered easily. The djinn's dark and destructive thoughts tumbled down his mental staircase, dying a horrible, painful death.
While Masrur took care of many tedious matters, such as stopping assassins and retraining the incompetent guard, Haides was still needed for more time consuming issues. Such as paperwork and finances.
The second Sinbad's feet touched Sindria soil, Haides resolved to Fiend Fire the paperwork to little ashes to be scattered across the seas. Just watch it try and torment him then.
"Maybe later," Haides promised, his fingers already warming up with the sweet thought.
"Is Papa coming back soon?" Ekaterina asked, squinting up at her guardian. She missed the funny King.
"King Sinbad was due back a fortnight ago," Zillah admitted.
"Don't worry," Haides soothed, catching how Ekaterina watched in confusion and Aseneth bit her lip in uncertainty. "Our King might be stupid, but he's strong. I would know if something happened to him."
A benefit of having his seal on his King. Unlike other djinn, Haides couldn't be forcibly removed from his King's side and would know the moment his King was mortally wounded. As long as his seal remained intact, Haides had nothing to worry about.
Of course, he could say nothing for his King's mental or emotional state. Someone he loved and trusted will die, they were probably dead already. But, Haides stood by his decision to stay behind. People would die either way, and it was not Haides' way to play God, choosing who deserved to live or die. Let Solomon's Fate choose their end. The Hearth was far more important than a war.
"I am not sure King Sinbad would appreciate your words, Master Haides," Aseneth pointed out with a quirk of her lips.
"King Sinbad doesn't know how to take a compliment," Haides shot back, sticking out his tongue in jest. "He doesn't know how to do a lot of things."
"But," Ekaterina piped in, grinning. "That's why he has all of us."
"All of us are here to support our King, no matter how ridiculous he is," Zillah nodded firmly.
Haides smiled. He never felt the need to teach Solomon's ilk this lesson, about support and shadow protection. (Maybe, maybe if he had, Arba wouldn't have fallen, wouldn't have twisted herself into knots he will need to cut out of her.)
Masrur stared, bemused.
"Nothing will happen to King Sinbad within these walls as long as we are here," Haides agreed. His girls smirked, Zillah and Aseneth exchanging satisfied looks. In little less than three months, his adorable little snakes in the grass have completely transformed from soft girls locked behind a barbed wall of protection to the thorns that once kept them inside. He couldn't be prouder of the muscles slowly developing under velvety skin or the wild sparkle in their eyes.
He lost girls, of course. Girls that had no interest in developing callouses or scarring their unmarred, soft skin. He allowed them to leave, to find other work within the country. But, word between brothels spread. More and more women were asking to join the Court dancers. He even had Madame Akeldama calling up Candace to teach her own girls.
Haides, it seemed, had started something. Something new and strange and wanted.
And he couldn't be prouder.
"They are good girls," Masrur interjected, stepping forward as his girls chuckled between themselves. Ekaterina proudly showed off the few moves her body could handle and Aseneth adjusted her limbs until her form was near perfect.
"The best," Haides said.
"Better than the King's Guard," the little lion continued. Haides barked another laugh. The poor King's Guard, first Blaise and now Masrur, yet they were still inadequate.
"I can't fault farmers for their inability to wield swords," the djinn said. "If they falter, my girls will merely raise to the occasion."
"They are not yet skilled enough to stop threats against the King's life," the lion warned.
"Not yet," Haides repeated, grinning. "I love those words."
Those words showed promise and expectation.
And Haides knew his girls could live up to it all.
It was a week later when Haides awoke to Solomon's silent urgings, calling for his attention as the former King dragged him from his pleasant memories of worlds long since dead.
Haides groaned, but listened to the whispers of death and battle, how a man fell and never rose beyond the dirt from whence he was born.
Solomon was a bit of a drama queen, Haides knew well.
The djinn lazily watched as a pack of white rukh swarmed a grey butterfly before it had the chance to enter the cushion-dominated room. Beyond the war of butterflies, the sky was the color of ash, not yet brightened in the light of dawn.
"Did that idiot think he could sneak past me?" Haides grunted, easing himself out of the pile of bodies around him. Yamraiha muttered, curling around Galilee's warmth as her pillow fled the bed. "I swear, if I find him moping, I'll kick his ass. Keeping this place in one piece was so far beyond my pay grade."
Not that it mattered, really. Haides wasn't getting paid.
Solomon buzzed, the rukh diving before his face to gather his attention once more.
"Lay it on me, brat," Haides yawned, notching his neck side-to-side as it gave a series of satisfyingly wet clicks. "Who's dead, who's alive, and whose ass do I need to kick back into reality?"
Solomon buzzed again, but a single rukh's ethereal wings kissed his checks in the Queen's rambunctious giggle.
He hummed, content, as the bookworms showed him the battle he missed, a trail of rukh kicking at his heels as he maneuvered his way out of the Sapphire Pisces Tower. He was surprised to learn of the magi tainted with Arba's poison, of the new alliance Sinbad pieced together in the face of tragedy.
He barely placed a foot across the threshold of the Purple Leo Tower when he ran into his second favorite shadow.
"Haides," Ja'far greeted, seeping out of the shadows. "Is it not late to be wandering the halls?"
Haides hummed, watching the assassin, how he favored his left side, how his eyes were as dark as the shadows he inhabited. "Is it not early to be sneaking into the palace? Ekaterina and the girls are excited to greet their King and Masrur has much to discuss with Sinbad."
"Sin does not wish to be disturbed," Ja'far stated, his hands hidden by his lengthy sleeves. His arms trembled, not in bloodlust, but exhaustion and wary sorrow. Haides took a step closer, a smirk worming onto his lips. "Mind your place, Haides," the assassin warned. His eyes flashed with the blood he has spilt while his body shook from the comrade he failed.
"Mind your limits, little assassin," Haides advised. The rukh whispered, slips of truths flowing from their lips and off of his. "You are not a protector, no matter how hard you try." A protector, maybe not. But he could be so much more. A rock, a guardian, the one solid point as the world pops and cracks, burring together at the seams. "Rest."
Haides stooped to catch the white-haired teen before he managed to clonk his head on the stone floors. He cradled Ja'far, staring down at the deep shadows under his usually calm eyes. He sighed, rolling his eyes skyward. "Let's get you to a bed. You're useless to our King if you exhaust yourself."
He marched ahead, no doubt an interesting image. So much so, that no one even thought about stopping him until he reached Sinbad's guarded room.
(He might have also knocked out everyone who spoke up against his presence in the Tower. He kicked around these same guards over the last month – like hell was he going to let them walk all over him now that Sinbad was back.)
"Master Haides!" one of Sinbad's three guards called, startled. "Was there something you needed?"
"Is that Lord Ja'far?" the second guard muttered to the third. Haides scrolled through his memories, failing to place names to the familiar faces.
"Don't mind me," Haides reassured. "I just need to speak with our King about sneaking around and waking me up."
The three guards exchanged uneasy looks, obviously remembering Haides and Masrur repeatedly beating respect and technique into their muscles. "King Sinbad has requested absolute privacy, Master Haides."
The djinn's genial smile dropped into a deadly blank stare, a look the guards were frightening familiar with. "Step aside, boys," he warned.
The first guard shuffled, but was held in place by his two companions. Haides let out a breath, frustrated. Oh, it was good Sinbad had such loyal subjects, people willing to fight for him. It was just annoying for that loyalty to be used against him and being considered lesser by his King's people would get him nowhere.
Respect was necessary if he wanted to move forward.
He heaved, shifting Ja'far's considerable weight over his shoulder as he flexed his fingers threateningly. "Move," he tried again, adding power to his command. A little too much power, as the three guards flew out of the way, as if a giant hand smacked them from their posts. When they groaned, clearly alive, Haides shrugged. "I warned them, didn't I?" he asked Solomon, raising an eyebrow as the omnipresent vessels buzzed in annoyance. "Somebody's pissy."
Without waiting for a response – really, the best way to ride out the brat-god-king's passive-aggressive temper was to ignore it – Haides knocked on Sinbad's bedroom door.
With his foot. And a lot of force.
"Oops," he smirked, stepping into the Royal Bedroom for the first time. He was underwhelmed. It wasn't much different from Solomon's room, simply lacking the overflowing bookcases and layer of paper covering the stone floor.
"Ja'far, I said I wanted to left alone," a fluffy purple pillow on the fluffy circular bed mumbled. Haides coughed, once, his smirked fixated on his face as the sheets thrash about. A tan face, framed by loose, long purple hair popped up, red stained eyes glaring over at him.
The djinn relished in the wide stare his King gave him as he strode forward. "My apologies, my King. However, I hope you weren't expecting to slip past me after leaving me all on my lonesome for so long?"
"Haides?" he questioned. Closer now, Haides watched intently as his King slowly pieced together a wall around his heart, steel to tame the creature he called a djinn. "What are you doing in here? I did not ask for your presence." The poison-eyed man hummed, noting the tinge and twist to the King's voice, the sorrow that tainted him to his weakened heart.
"Who died?" he asked, gently slipping the assassin under the blankets before crawling in after.
"Don't–!" Sinbad started, shoving himself up to glare at his bed invader. He faltered at Haides' unimpressed, unconcerned stare. "You knew," he breathed, his entire face shutting down as his mind went numb. "You knew he would die."
"Huh. It wasn't the little assassin, I know that already. Was it the warrior? The dragon? The knight? Or did you pick someone else up while I wasn't watching and stupidly grew attached?"
Sinbad's numb disbelief burned away into anger, a cold anger he knew only for his former mistress and the manipulative, wandering magi. "Do you even care that Mystras is dead?" he snarled, leaning in to glare into the immortal being's deadly eyes.
"No," Haides said, his voice deep with truth as his eyes darkened in a centuries' old darkness. "I really don't. Why should I? I've grieved my share already, let someone else give a damn. You humans are of no import to me."
The room was quiet, Ja'far's quiet breathing the only sound to break the tense silence.
"You don't really believe that," Sinbad decided, resting back against a set of fluffy pillows.
"Oh, trust me, my King," Haides denied. "I don't lie."
"You care about those girls," Sinbad continued. "You care about Ja'far and Ekaterina and me."
"Presumptuous, arrogant, insolent–" Haides listed, crawling towards Sinbad with each word, the thin sheets getting uselessly tangled around his legs.
"Right," the King cut in, reaching out to tug his eighth djinn against his chest. The raven's ear landed solidly on his seal, seared right over the adventurer's heart. Haides stiffened, hearing the steady thumping as blood was pumped through this living, breathing body. "I'm right."
Haides huffed, but nuzzled closer to his King's Candidate. "So, it was the knight, huh?" he dodged. "Never liked him."
"You remembered his name," Sinbad pointed out. "Why did you stay behind? You could have saved him."
"I could have saved a lot of people," Haides stated, fuzzy images of friends long since dead dancing forward from the darkness each time he blinked. "Doesn't mean I would have. Last time I chose battle over protecting the hearth…"
So many people died. People who couldn't fight, who didn't deserve to die. By fighting at his King's side, by trusting his heart rather than his gut, Haides doomed Solomon and Sheba and Aladdin to their friends' betrayal. Even before then, so many years ago that the memories were fuzzy and blurred, Harry Potter choose his mission over his home, leaving Hogwarts in the hands of the enemies as students suffered. (If he had simply stayed behind…)
"Haides," Sinbad called, his fingers deftly pulling apart his braid. "Haides, what happened the last time you had to choose?" The sneaky man carded through his djinn's hair, carefully untangling any knot he came across.
Haides practically melted in the man's lap. "Can't get me to give up my secrets that easily, Idiot King," he muttered, his eyelids fluttering with his King's movements.
Sinbad hummed, apparently disagreeing as he scratched at Haides' scalp. He tucked his head down, burying his face in his djinn's loose hair. "What happened?"
The immortal grunted, squirming in an effort to get comfortable. The rukh whispered through the air, roosting over the duo, the memory of a rambunctious woman and an ambitious man watching over their companion.
"People died," he huffed, a gentle finger tracing his seal. "You humans are unnervingly fragile."
Sinbad reached up, curling his fingers around Haides', pressing the digits against the sigil. "With your help, the help of a djinn, we can be so much stronger. Strong enough to survive, to beat back every enemy Fate throws at us."
"I knew it," Haides chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. Figures he was stuck with a loyal believer in Fate, after everything he's done to derail the fabric of destiny during his long life. "You only wanted me for my body." The djinn raised an eyebrow, daring the King to argue, to disagree. Sinbad failed to comply, his gaze locked on the small djinn, noting the sharp smile and looming darkness.
He knew the other man was dangerous, deadly even. He was a djinn; not human. But, Sinbad also knew the troublemaker who lashed out at mentions of his height and adopted the unfortunate to rise them up from their previous status. He knew enough to know it was not a mistake to trust his djinn, the being who already promised himself to the King's cause.
"I want a lot more than your body," Sinbad replied, his eyes sweeping up the djinn's form intently. Haides stiffened, startled as he snapped upright to stare at his King.
"How forward," he noted absentmindedly. Sheba's laugh echoed through the chamber with each shift of the rukh, Solomon's frown outlined with every flutter of their wings.
"I want to become one with you, Handras," Sinbad continued.
"Not how I was expecting this to happen," Haides admitted, feeling the tingle of adrenaline run up his spine at how his Solomon-given name shaped Sinbad's lips. "I imaged wine and dancing. And a lot less clothes, but I guess that's optional."
"Let's start training our djinn equip," the King finished, tilting Haides' chin so the smaller man could get a good long look at his blinding, confident smile.
"See, now, this is how you get yourself killed."
"What? Did I do something wrong?" Sinbad asked, noticing his comrade's unimpressed glare. He thought it was perfectly romantic, clearing expressing exactly what he wanted from the djinn while showing his trust in the immortal. "I'll need to call upon your strength the next time one of our comrades are in danger, Handras. Don't you trust me?"
"I have spent barely two weeks in your presence and most of that time was while I was bonding with my dancers," Haides pointed out, pressing down the savage grin that wormed into existence with every jolt to his system his name brought.
"After you dwelt within my soul for five months," Sinbad reasoned. Haides blinked, surprised. He hadn't realized the King remembered that little detail. Then again, Sinbad was an idiot, not brain dead.
The djinn sighed, flopping beside the King to pout. "Fine, fine, we can start practicing. On one condition!" he barked, giving Sinbad the stink-eye when he jostled the bed as he scrambled out. Poor Ja'far slept on, magically held under the veil of rest and thankfully undisturbed by the motion. "You'll come to the Tower to meet your newest daughter."
Sinbad faltered, stumbling as he shrugged on his open vest, settling into his adventurer's clothing easier than Haides has ever seen him in his official royal attire. The self-made King spun around as Haides sprawled in his bed, his muscular arms weaving across his chest. Haides smirked at the prideful man, his eyes trailing over the edges of his seal the vest displayed.
He thought he might like the royal attire more, as nice as it is to see Sinbad's tanned skin bared for his viewing pleasure. His sign was different from his fellow djinn's, personal. It felt almost scandalous to have it so boldly shown. It might have something to do with the lingering elements of his past, of his Title obvious in the triangle surrounding the encircled star and the line bisecting the design.
"Right after you meet your new son," Sinbad shot back, his chest puffing out as Haides managed to tumble straight out of the extremely comfortable bed before crashing onto the stone floor with the grace of a lemming leaping off a cliff.
His ruffled head popped up at Sinbad's bark of laughter. "You got me a son?" He pushed away thoughts of Teddy and of Sheba's limp arms stretched uselessly over her bulbous stomach where she had previously cocooned her unborn son, a hole in her chest and a pool at her side. "I thought you found me lacking in my parental capabilities?"
"We picked up one of my subordinates on our trip," Sinbad explained, pausing when he noticed Ja'far was also curled up in his bed, tucked in and astonishingly deep asleep. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen the former assassin so relaxed in rest, his body usually tense and ready to attack at the first disturbance. "Sharrkan was training to be a swords master with old teachers of mine. Now that he's on Sindria soil, he needs a role model."
"A babysitter you mean," Haides said, pulling himself up to stand akimbo. "I have my duties to my girls."
"Take him along," Sinbad gave a chuckle. "I'm sure he'd enjoy it."
"They already have a big brother," Haides corrected, tapping his foot in annoyance. At Sinbad's confused eyebrow raise, he continued with a roll of his eyes. "Masrur? The little lion with more muscles than you?"
"I wasn't expecting Masrur and the girls to bond so quickly," the King admitted. "He's not usually very social." He waved the djinn forward, a slight gentleman's bow of courtesy folding his waist. Haides responded by kicking him in the shin.
"I asked him to train the girls in combat," Haides supplied, leading the way out of Sinbad's royal suite and into the hall. Sinbad winced, eyeing his unconscious guards as he limp-shuffled.
"Was that really the best idea, Haides?" he tried tentatively. The djinn hummed, thinking it over for a moment.
"They're old enough to make their own decisions, my King," Haides answered. "Some left for Madame Akeldama's, but those that have remained are so much stronger, both in body and in mind. They will fight to the death to defend this country."
"I don't want them dying for this country. I am Sindria's King and I will lay down my life for my people," Sinbad's face was still, cold even, when he replied. The pain in his voice, fresh and raw, was so very real to the djinn that he was forced to look away. He had no wish to deal with grief, his or anyone else's. He knew better than anyone the specifics of death, of watching others leave you behind for the 'Next Great Adventure'.
"It's not really your choice, now is it?" Haides said, enjoying the titter of wings as the rukh surrounded them in agreement. He pitied the human for not being able to see Solomon's vessels, for not being able to hear the voices of the Original King and Queen, for not being able to understand how his heart ached every time his bookworms brushed their very soul against his fake flesh. He, better than anyone, knew Death. "It's theirs."
"It's not a choice they should need to make," Sinbad argued. "And I will do anything to protect them from it ever becoming necessary."
Haides smiled, but didn't answer, choosing to allow their walk to the Silver Scorpio Tower to continue in silence. It was far too early to wake the Palace up with a lively debate, after all. Telling Sinbad where to shove his ego would not end well for either of them. Especially not right before training.
"You don't agree," Sinbad said, cutting through the calm. He stopped, his face twisted in confusion.
Haides slashed his unearthly eyes towards his King, his stare unamused. His smile never wavered, but the King was unnerved by how dead it looked on the djinn's face. "You can't protect everyone. It's unrealistic and selfish. If they want to fight, let them. If they want to cower behind your strength, that is just as well. It is not your place to dictate their choices."
"Is that not what you are doing with your girls? Shoving them towards violence and bloodshed?" Sinbad shot back.
Haides remembered a man with the eyes of stars and hair of tarnished silver. He remembered a man whose heart was stained as his body. He remembered a boy, as light as a lamb with a throat just as pretty. He remembered a lot of things that simply did not matter.
"My girls do what they want. Anyone who tries to tell them otherwise are those who should be wary, my King," Haides disagreed. He hop-skip-stepped towards the Tower, his entire body itching with the possibility of letting lose, of merging his power with a worthy King.
"Now, enough of that. Sinbad," the djinn grinned, a skeleton smile of teeth. "Be a dear and show me the will of my chosen King."
(More than strength, more than charisma, Sinbad needed will. Without that, Arba and her poison would eat through him. And Haides would tear him apart before that could happen, just as he should have cut down Arba the moment her heart shifted. He was simply too soft.)
I might be stalling on reading Magi, but I kicked my ass into gear long enough to catch up on the Adventures of Sinbad, right after I caught up with Tokyo Ghoul:re. Cause I still don't know when everyone starts dying, Imma do it all myself and laugh a little. (Sinbad's stint at Mama Crazy's house is firmly locked in my mind until the day I die.) – Pst, I'm totally calling some of the dancers former Mama Crazy slaves. Explains their need for protection and connection to violence so well.
Please tell me this was good enough for everyone waiting for some Sinbad/Harry flirting?
For those thinking Sinbad 'got over' Mystras' death quickly, it's kinda old news to him. He's had to deal with this knowledge for weeks, with no real place he can do to be alone and just let it all out. He's emotionally drained and needs a distraction, but he has by no means forgotten about Mystras already.
Guest Reviews:
Maxiev - Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it!
I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! The aftermath and reunions are next!