A/N: This story doesn't seem to do very well on this site, lmao. I feel much more well received on ao3, so I might not post on this site as much anymore but? whatever lol

I'm not sure how many chapters I'd like this to be. I'm shooting for somewhere around 20-30, and my ultimate goal is to hit 100k words. But I've never really written anything longer than like, 10k in the past, so we'll see.

Feedback is much appreciated!

It was his fourth day in Sindria when Judal found that he could not sleep.

He thought that he was done with the nightmares. He thought that that was a piece of him left behind in his childhood years, from the time when he was too young to make sense of it all, and his mind tormented him through his dreams.

It was when, for the second time that night, Judal shot awake in a cold sweat, chest heaving and gasping for breath, that he knew something was wrong.

It was so odd for this to be happening now, particularly when the day before was so oddly fulfilling. Judal didn't know what to think of that, or of the new feelings that were inevitably brewing between him and Sinbad, especially not now. To be honest, he didn't want to think about that.

When Judal was younger, the dreams had been real nightmares. As a child he would run crying to Ithnan, too little and too naïve to really understand (his rukh had been white, then), who always assured him that everything was fine and not worry about a thing. It wasn't until he was older when he began to understand that the real monsters existed only in his waking mind, and these ones were no figment.

Judal had begun to cherish sleep then, because generally they left him alone at night, unless he was being punished. Judal tasted bile at the thought. He opened his tired eyes, watching with intense focus the rukh fluttering above him on the bed. The rukh were whiter, lately. And the black ones were still there, of course, but as a whole, the body of rukh was white, with the occasional blackness peppered into the mix.

Judal sighed and raised a finger, watching as one of the rukh perched upon it, and for a moment his eyes softened. Twisting into a frown, Judal waved the bird away and scoffed at his own foolishness. There was no point in thinking about that now, he thought, lowering the raised hand to rub at his bruised wrists.

In the end, Judal decided that he didn't need sleep, and had lay awake glaring at the intricate runes in the ceiling for hours.

"Have you been sleeping well, Judal?" Yamuraiha asked while tending to him later in the day, working magic into his tender skin. Judal didn't know how to express that he was grateful for it, in the barest sense of the word, but he wasn't sure that he had to. That would make things too awkward, and he had a comfortable enough relationship with Yamuraiha to assume that she knew.

Judal scoffed. "Why should you care?" How would she even know about that? Judal hadn't said anything, nor did he intend to. He was going to sit on this stupid issue until it silenced itself all together, and he certainly did not intend to talk about it.

"Your magoi seemed rather upset last night. It isn't usually so rowdy, is it?"

"I didn't think ordinary magician could see the rukh," Judal complained.

"Well, I can't see them," she admitted, "but all magicians have a connection. I could sense something amiss."

Judal grunted and crossed his arms. "You're worrying for nothing. I'm fine, don't worry about it. Just fix my body." Judal could fix the rest of himself on his own. He didn't need a healer for that.

It had been obvious enough that Judal didn't want anyone to pry, and for a while, Yamuraiha had respected that. It seemed, though, that either curiosity or concern or whatever else had been too tempting for her to ignore. "If there's something bothering you, you can tell me. I won't tell anyone."

Judal didn't say anything. He didn't want to reveal anything about himself, not to anyone, especially not to this woman he'd barely known four days. But there was the issue of debt and gratitude, wasn't there? Judal couldn't stand to be in debt, and he was grateful enough. He sighed, already feeling his future regrets. "You can't tell anyone. Not even Sinbad." Especially not Sinbad.

"I won't say anything."

Judal breathed a deep sigh. "I don't know. Just nightmares, I guess. But I'm fine, so don't worry about it." It sounded even more pathetic when he said it out loud.

Yamuraiha's features were oddly free of judgment. "Are they about anything in particular?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. About what happened, I guess. And..."

She allowed him a moment to gather his thoughts before gently prodding again. "What is it, Judal?"

"It's stupid, but I think about my family a lot. At least, I think they were my family? Those were the people I saw when the baby magi showed me my past. I've been seeing them in my dreams a lot more since I came here."

"I don't think that's stupid," she soothed. "It's normal to wonder where you came from, especially after what happened to you."

"I guess," he murmured to himself. "I don't want to think about them. It's a waste of time and it hurts, and I'm tired of that."

Judal wasn't quite sure where he'd found the room in himself to tell her his secrets, this woman who he barely knew. Maybe it was because he had no one else to tell, with Kougyoku gone, and because his magic was rather similar to Yamuraiha's, so he had reason to let down his guard. Still, he already felt too exposed around the woman, she had seen almost every inch of him, even the places he could never let anyone see. She had already seen so much of Judal; it couldn't hurt for her to know the rest.

"Have you told anyone else about this?" The underlying question was thick in her words: Sinbad. Judal scowled at the thought.

"No, and neither will you. This stays between us." Judal did not need Sinbad to pity him more than he already did. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Alright, I promise that I won't tell anyone. But you know you can talk to me, don't you?"

Judal stared at her for a while, and as she started to put away her supplies he figured that she was done with him, so he stood up with a grunt of disinterest. "Why do you care, anyway? Don't you hate me? I've done a lot of shit, you know. I ruined lives. I killed people, and I liked it. Doesn't that disgust you?"

She only smiled, and it almost infuriated him. "Your past deeds seem to disgust you more than they do anyone else."

Judal scowled. "I-"

"I don't have any animosity towards you, Judal. I consider myself a good judge of character, and I know that under all of the bravo, you have a good heart."

"You're a real shitty judge of character, Yamuraiha."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Its good to make amends for what you've done, and you should, but don't punish yourself. Sinbad wouldn't want that."

"I don't care what Sinbad wants. He can think whatever he wants about me, it doesn't change a damn thing."

"Doesn't it, though?" She asked and stepped closer, resting a hand upon his shoulder. "You think I don't know why you're so conscious about your scars?"

"I'm not conscious," he spat and shrugged her hand away. She was right, though. It was an awful reason to feel motivated, for the approval of a man, but Judal wanted Sinbad to think he was beautiful. He wanted that more than anything. Even if Judal were a man and Sinbad would never want him, Judal wanted to be a prize, to be unattainable. He could never be beautiful when he was like this, when his legs and hips bore the painful reminders of what he was and would always be. Sinbad would never want him like this. "How is the healing going, by the way? Is it getting better?"

The contradiction of his words was almost laughable, but Yamuraiha humored him anyway. "There is some improvement, even if it's only been a few days. Though..."

Judal's stomach sank. "What?"

She sighed. "Some of the damage is old and deep. Scar tissue like that can never be completely repaired."

"So-So what?" Judal swallowed a lump in his throat. He had entertained a sliver of hope, before, that his body could somehow be flawless again someday, that he could erase these bitter memories once and for all. Clearly, he had been too optimistic. "So I'm just supposed to live like this forever? I'm supposed to go to my grave looking like a monster?"

He must've been making quite a fuss, because Yamuraiha was quick to soothe him, hurrying to his side to place her hands on his shoulders. "Don't worry yourself like this, Judal, you are not a monster. Everyone has a history, you are no different. Hidden scars won't affect the way anyone looks at you, not here at least, alright? Any man would be lucky to have you."

Judal had calmed, at least a little, but those last words caught him. He sat up a little straighter. "What do you mean, 'man?'"

"Ah-Are you not gay?" she sputtered, "I didn't mean to assume, I just-" she seemed so taken aback, Judal could have laughed as the color came to her face. "I didn't mean to offend-"

"I mean, you're not wrong," he admitted, "I just never told you." Sexuality had been a private matter for Judal, especially under Al-Thamen. Only Kougyoku knew for sure, and Sinbad probably had some idea, but he never told anyone else. The risk of anyone finding out was too high, so it was always just easier not to say anything. "What gave it away?"

"Women's intuition?" she tried. "You don't react to my healing like most men do. And the way you dress and carry yourself is just... very unlike most men." She didn't miss the way his cheeks flared red. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. I won't say anything, I promise."

Judal found that Yamuraiha was suddenly entrusted with too many of his secrets for him to take comfort, and he took a hesitant step away with a sigh. "Yeah. Fine, just... Don't say anything."

"You have my word."

Judal looked down at himself then, stomach tense, and though his clothing hid his body he knew he was damaged and broken and very undesirable. And even if he were flawless, it was useless to think that Sinbad even had a taste for men. Yamuraiha had said herself that Judal wasn't like most men in his tastes, the odds for Sinbad to feel the same were painfully slim. He took a deep breath.

"Even if it's pointless, keep trying with the healing. Please," he murmured, voice low, and he caught her nodding from the corner of his eye.

"Of course. I'll do my whatever I can."

Judal did not like to think that he had friends, but at the very least, Yamuraiha made a good ally.

Sinbad supposed that Judal's conversation with Yamuraiha was not meant to be overheard, especially considering the great amount of times he'd instructed her, "Don't tell anyone."

And he hadn't meant to eavesdrop, that wasn't the intention. Sinbad knew that Judal had such little privacy and space here as it was, he should at least be entitled to his private conversations. He had only meant to see how Judal was doing, because he knew that Judal had some insecurity about himself through the treatment, and he only wanted to make sure that the boy was alright.

Sinbad hadn't overheard a lot, either. He had only found himself outside Yamuraiha's ajar chamber door when Yamuraiha had begun with, "any man would be lucky to have you."

Somehow, it hadn't really registered with Sinbad until then that Judal was gay. He knew that Judal felt something for him, whatever that something was, but he'd been involved with Kougyoku, right? Or was that just reading too deep?

In any case, there was no way Sinbad could walk in there now and face Judal's wrath. He had reached a reasonably decent position in his relationship with Judal, whatever that was becoming, and he had no intention to humiliate the magi when he was so emotionally vulnerable.

So, he left. It was the only thing Sinbad could really think to do, and if he ever discussed this matter with Judal, he certainly couldn't bring it up himself. Sinbad heaved a deep sigh, roaming aimlessly through the palace. Perhaps he would go and dedicate himself to his work, for a while. Though he despised it, work was always an excellent distraction.

When he heard muffled whispering and banter down a passing corridor, though, Sinbad was too intrigued to keep walking.

"A-Ah-not here, Masrur! What if someone sees us?"

Just hearing that made Sinbad stop dead in his tracks. Sinbad did not particularly consider himself one prone to gossip, but after hearing that—in a distinctly male voice, he noted—his interest was thoroughly piqued.

Sinbad dared to peek out from behind the wall, and at the sight before him, his blood ran cold.

Sharrkan was pressed back against the wall with Masrur towering over him, hips grinding up against the other man's. Sharrkan had never been petite, but he was dwarfed beneath Masrur, who towered over him with a mammoth build. Both of them were breathing heavy, and Sinbad could barely catch a glimpse from the awkward angle, but the situation seemed anything but chaste.

"That's never stopped us before," Masrur countered, and Sharrkan responded with a moan as their hips rolled together. Clearly, this hadn't been a one-time thing.

"I—Ah! Masrur, you bastard," he crooned, but the want was thick in his voice, eyes clouded with desire, and Sinbad vaguely wondered how he hadn't noticed sooner. For all the longing gazes at dinner, all the snarky comments and constant bickering, one would have to be blind not to notice that something was there. "I… I can't wait for the day you're on your knees, apologizing for the way you treat me."

There was an unusual glimmer of mischief in the stoic man's eyes: a side that Sinbad had never seen to him before, which was definitely concerning, considering how long they'd been acquainted. "As you wish," he breathed in that low, throaty voice, and as he got down on his knees with eyes level to Sharrkan's waistline, Sinbad decided that he'd seen enough.

Ducking back behind the wall, Sinbad was sure that he'd gone beet red. He had reason to be alarmed, he was so confident that both Masrur and Sharrkan were heterosexual, in every sense of the word. Did Sharrkan not have feelings for Yamuraiha as everyone surmised? And Masrur—he was the wildcard, always so silent and brooding, but to think that there was such a devious side to him…

Sinbad shook his head as he walked away, very much wishing that he'd never witnessed the scene in the first place. Now, he was more confused than ever in regards to his own situation, for lack of better term. He hadn't really thought of same-sex relations until recently, not until Judal had come into the picture. Judal was pretty, of course, but he was still a man, and it wasn't as though Sinbad could pretend like he was a woman for the sake of his pride.

Judal's gender had always been something of a…hurdle, for Sinbad. There were things that he felt for Judal, certainly, but his sex had been hard to ignore, for a while, at least. It was almost embarrassing to think, but seeing Masrur and Sharrkan had been eye-opening (in more ways than one). The pair clearly had chemistry even in spite of their biological sexes, and if they could get along, then there was no reason for Sinbad to make things more difficult for himself and Judal.

He wasn't even quite sure whether he felt that way for Judal, not yet. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he wasn't quite put-off by the thought of being with another man—especially if that man were Judal.

Judal had always liked the gardens back at home. It was an easy way to pass the time when he was bored, and there were always plenty of peaches for him to indulge. That, and it was peaceful. His mind had been too tormented lately, and Judal was in definite need of a place to relax.

The gardens here were nice too. Compared to Kou, they seemed more tropical, the fruits here were not like peaches, but Judal found that they were still pleasantly sweet and melted on his tongue. They weren't the same, but he didn't mind the change. Judal was beginning to feel that way about a lot of things, here.

Still, he sighed. Without his wand, it was growing annoyingly difficult for Judal to be able to do anything. He could do enough without it: he could still levitate, and he could perform other simple tasks, but without a wand to concentrate his magic, he was rendered useless as a magi. He almost wanted to ask Sinbad for a new one, but hadn't he accepted enough from the idiot already? He couldn't ask for more, that would only make him seem ungrateful, and contrary to his behavior, Judal was anything but.

With an exotic fruit in hand-he wasn't sure of the name, but it tasted good and that was enough-he continued making his way through the winding paths. Even if he did get lost, it was something to distract him from everything, especially Sinbad.

"I thought I'd find you out here."

Perhaps the thought was too good to be true.

"How did you find me?" Judal countered, hand on his hip as he turned to regard Sinbad. "Don't you have work to be doing?"

"My life is more than just desk work, you know," said Sinbad with a chuckle. "It was a lucky guess."

"Oh, really?" Judal rolled his eyes. And to think, Sinbad could ever be the one pursuing him, even if just for a second. The thought was too absurd to consider.

"That," he began, "and I saw you from the balcony. You looked lost, I thought you could use the help."

Judal scowled. "I'm not—" and then his features softened and he heaved a sigh. "Okay, fine, whatever. Maybe I'm lost, but this place is huge, and I don't know where the fuck I'm going, anyway."

Sinbad chuckled in response. "I can show you out, if you want. But you seem to be enjoying yourself among all the flowers and...mangoes?"

"Oh, come on," Judal grumbled and elbowed him. "You can't think I only eat peaches. I like other fruit too."

"It's just..." Sinbad seemed almost perplexed at the revelation. "I've never seen you eat anything else."

"Well, you have now." Judal took another pointed bite, and continued with his mouth full. "Can we go back now? I'm tired of being out in the sun. I don't wanna get burnt again."

Sinbad met him with a smile, and Judal felt a shiver run up his spine. "Sure, I'll take you back."

The gardens were far vaster than Judal had expected. The winding paths and lush greenery had proved challenging for Judal to navigate on his own, since—true to Yamuraiha's word—his sleep really was affected by his nightmares. Judal's eyelids felt unusually heavy, so it was a good thing that he had Sinbad to aid him. Not like Judal would accept any help from Sinbad, though, even if his life depended on it.

Judal yawned and fanned his open mouth with a lazy hand as he walked. Apparently, the gesture was broad enough for Sinbad to take note.

"Have you been sleeping well, Judal?"

"I've been sleeping fine," he replied evenly, "though, that wouldn't really concern you."

"You don't look like it," said Sinbad, and Judal shot him a look of faint offense. "Not that you look bad, or anything. Just tired. Are you sure that everything's okay?"

"Don't worry about me, idiot. I'm doing just fine." He wasn't, but that was okay. As much as bad dreams plagued him, Judal was no longer a child, and he refused to let something so juvenile impact his life as it already had.

Sinbad didn't seem quite convinced. "Are you sure, Judal? I don't want you to feel restrained around me. If there's something bothering you, don't hesitate to let me know."

"And what good would that do?"

"I could help you with it."

Judal guffawed at him. "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious," tried Sinbad again. "If there's something upsetting you, I'll do whatever I can to help you."

Judal didn't say anything. Sinbad's words were full of empty promises, it was just something Judal had grown to accept. Still, though, the offer was nice enough.

Judal meant to spit something back at him, but when he felt something damp splash against his arm, he stopped entirely. "Did you feel that?"

"What?"

"It's raining."

It was. Tiny droplets peppered the paths one at a time until puddles began to manifest, turning the soil to mud as rain splattered against Judal's pallid skin. They were too far from the palace to really do anything about it, so Judal did all he could really think of and crossed his arms over his chest with a groan.

"I guess it is," said Sinbad, glancing up at the sky for the barest of moments before shaking his head. "You'll get sick if you stay out in the rain like this. Come here."

Judal raised an eyebrow with a snort but followed along anyway, and as the rain picked up in its intensity he found himself hurrying after Sinbad to the shade of a quaint wooden pagoda among the gardens. Judal hadn't really noticed until then, but there existed within the land a small alcove of a lake, which came up to the very edges of the pavilion. It looked nice.

"Now what are we supposed to do?" Judal asked, arms crossed, but now it was more for the warmth than the attitude. His hair stuck to his face and his braid hung cold and damp against his back, and his clothes were no protection at all. Judal was almost to the point of shivering, but that would just be too pathetic for him to bear, so he did his best to stand still despite the awful conditions.

Sinbad looked out from under the pavilion. "We wait, I guess. It should clear up soon."

Judal whined and came up beside Sinbad, watching out through the steady sheets of rain. The sky was still bright, with lots of bright clouds with silver linings, so the rain would obviously clear soon. Still, Judal was cold and uncomfortable, and trapped with Sinbad at an uncomfortably close proximity. He heaved a sigh.

"I'm freezing," Judal complained and shrank in on himself as he took a seat on the bench, arms hugged to his chest. "It doesn't rain this much in Kou."

"That's because we're on an island," said Sinbad with a chuckle as his eyes grew softer. "Are you cold? You can have this." He undid the upper shawl of his robe, the white cloth often thrown around his shoulders, and draped it over Judal. It was still cold, but it was warmer somehow, more thick and insulated.

Judal tried to pretend like he wasn't blushing as he hugged it around himself. "Thanks, I guess."

"Don't worry about it," said Sinbad as he sat near Judal on the bench. "I've been meaning to ask. Did you give my offer any thought?"

Judal's stomach sank. "Which one?"

"About staying here. And being Sindria's magi."

"Oh," he murmured. "That one." Judal sighed and hunched over, deep in thought and brooding over Sinbad's words. "Why should I stay?"

Sinbad didn't answer for a while, and it was almost obvious that he didn't know. It was that hero-complex again, the idea that he could save everyone—which he clearly couldn't, and some ridiculous idea that he could redeem Judal for all of his wrongdoings. It just wasn't realistic.

"No one will ever hurt you here," he began. "You can have whatever you want, as long as you promise not to hurt anyone and do your part." And then, softer, "I'll take care of you."

Judal tensed. "What was that?"

"Nothing, nothing," Sinbad shook his head with a nervous chuckle. "Just—have you thought about it?"

"Of course I have," Judal assured, brow creased. "How could I ignore such a big question?" Sinbad may as well have just asked Judal to marry him. It meant the same thing, to a magi. Judal sighed. "But I need more time. I can't give you an answer right away."

"How long do you need?"

"Uh…" Judal thought for a moment, then sighed. "Until Kougyoku comes back. I'll have made up my mind then." It was easiest that way, not to lend anyone a sense of false hope. At least he had the option this time, instead of just being ordered and commanded like he was used to. Judal sighed. "Thanks for…this, by the way."

"For what?"

"For everything," grumbled Judal with a sigh. "The hospitality, the offer. I dunno. You're just being…nicer than I'm used to."

"You know," began Sinbad with a tender look on his face. "I never meant to be cruel to you. And I don't blame you, Judal, for the things that you've done. Not anymore."

Judal stared at him for a long time, eyes opened just faintly wider, and then he let out a long breath of relief. "The rain stopped. Let's go back now."

Sinbad seemed to understand that he'd pried as much as Judal would allow, so he nodded and motioned to stand. "I'll show you the way."

Judal nodded and followed Sinbad out from the pavilion. Though the rain had stopped and the sun beat down warm upon their backs, Judal still wore the shawl over his shoulders. It was a gift from Sinbad, even if he did have hundreds of duplicates. It was still comforting to wear.

"Yeah, okay," Judal answered back. The whole world glistened damp and glowing as Judal fell into step alongside the King, but carrying on like this, Sinbad seemed in no hurry to arrive back at the palace.

A/N: i just think masrur and sharr should date like is that too much to ask