It was late evening by the time Sinbad returned to his rooms, grateful for the peace and privacy he could finally indulge in. Lunch had been a trying affair as he had suspected, but no more so than dinner with the royal family. He had withstood a barrage of questions and small talk from the various lords of the high houses, most of which he was still unfamiliar with, just as bravely as he endured Prince Turok's endless sneers, Traxis' cut eye, and Rumina's batted eyelashes. He had just finished sending his maidservants away and relishing the feeling of being finally alone, before he sensed another presence emerging from his balcony.

"I'm afraid this is becoming a habit, you sneaking into my room when I'm alone after hours. What would the citizens of Baghdad have to say if they knew what their Crown Princess was truly up to," accused Sinbad playfully.

Maeve smirked naughtily, folding herself into Sinbad's all too eager arms and sealing their meeting with a kiss. After several moments of blissful exploration, Maeve pulled away from him, wiping at her lips sensually with her finger. "By the Goddess you taste good. It's a shame I'm not here to seduce you tonight."

"Really, again? Well, you have a weird way of showing it," he laughed, pulling her into his arms once more so he could play with a strand of her hair. "What is it this time? Come to repeat your warning that almost everyone in this palace is not to be trusted?"

Maeve rolled her eyes before asking, "What did you make of Master Dim Dim today? Did you enjoy your lessons?"

"You mean your uncle? I enjoyed him and his lessons just fine. He doesn't really seem to fit the mold of everyone else around here, which made me like him, even trust him, despite myself. Reminds me of someone else I know, although substantially less beautiful."

She smiled at this, acknowledging his flirtation. "Yes, Uncle Dim Dim is a unique presence here in the Capital, and manages to hold on to a position of power and influence, despite Turok hardly being able to stomach him. He's a wonderful teacher of many things… you're lucky to have him."

Sinbad nodded, offering her a crooked smile. "Yes, his lessons today covered everything from how to blow a hole in the wall using my new powers, to the family name of the House of Shadows."

"Ah yes, the Irals. Their grandmother is a quite a treat, now a retired but ever respected spy for our forces abroad years ago. Being able to bend light to make herself appear invisible served her well."

And Shadows were only the beginning Sinbad knew. Silks, Stoneskins, Silences… abilities he hardly new existed were laid out for him learn in all their power and privilege. It truly wasn't fair how gifted the Silvers were, he was reminded. The Without were nothing in comparison.

Being around Maeve however, had the ability to make him temporarily forget about the injustices of the world, if only for a short time. So instead of further brooding, he caught her gaze and asked, "So if you're not here to treat me to an unforgettable welcome surprise, why are you here Princess?

Maeve's smile became ever wider, warming his heart with her joy. "Why, I'm here to give you the greatest gift I can think of. The thing I know your heart longs for most of all."

Sinbad swallowed deeply. "And what is that?" He wanted to ask how she could possibly know what his heart longed for most in the world, but stopped himself. She tended to know a lot more about him than he gave her credit for, especially given that she had only known him for a couple of days.

Maeve could barely contain her excitement. "I'm here to take you home. Only for a few hours of course, but that should be enough to let your family know you're okay. To give you a chance to say goodbye for the time being, properly."

Home. Not the sea this time, but back to Basra. Back to his brother, and perhaps even Aiden if he was lucky. But how was this possible? Maeve was the Crown Princess and could achieve many things he was certain, but hijacking a ship and somehow achieving time travel to make the hours of sailing each way fit into one night was impossible. Unless there was a House that could freeze time that Dim Dim hadn't yet mentioned to him, this seemed like a heartsick dream.

Sinbad looked at her wistfully. "Maeve, not even you can achieve such a miracle, though I know if anyone could, it would be you."

Her eyes flashed with irritation for a moment before softening. "Sinbad, do you think I would promise something so important to you in jest? Trust me, I can be cold, but not THAT cold. And never to you."

He looked at her with confusion. "Then how will we get there? And without anyone noticing no less."

Maeve smirked. "Oh Sinbad, believe it or not, I've managed to make friends here and there, friends that others don't know about. Friends who are a lot like you in some ways."

Sinbad raised an eyebrow. "So you do tend to hang around in the dark surprising unwitting sailors with the best sex of their life."

She shoved him away at this playfully. "Pay attention Captain, and no, I won't forget that you just said I was the best you ever had," she winked. "What I meant is that I've met another gifted person, gifted like you. Not with lightning, but with speed. Such speed that he can move from one place to another as if no time has passed. And if you hang on tight enough, he can take us too."

Sinbad blinked. Another person like him. Mysteriously gifted, unlike the Silvers whose abilities were known and transferred genetically, predictably from one generation to the next. Except that this man had managed to stay hidden.

"Is his blood red too?" asked Sinbad, curious.

Maeve nodded, meeting his eyes with a meaningful look. So he wasn't entirely an anomaly, or an unholy mistake of genetics. There was another like him, and if there was one, there had to be others. Others with unique and powerful gifts that surpassed those of the Silvers. Others who could spearhead change, equality for those Without. Those who could incite civil war. It was all too dangerous to consider, especially since at the moment, all he wanted to focus on was that he was getting the chance to see his family again.

"Let's not dally anymore," interrupted Maeve, sensing his feelings as she had a knack for doing. "I've arranged for him to meet us at the outskirts of the palace gardens, near the forest line. I'll explain more on the way."

Now for the questionable part. How exactly did Maeve intend for them to scale the sides of the palace to land undetected into the gardens. Sinbad glanced below. It was a steep drop of about 70 feet to the grounds. "Come on sailor, you're used to climbing riggings, so I can't imagine this is much worse," laughed his wily partner. Indeed, as his eyes followed Maeve, already a few feet down the palace façade, he saw the ornate carvings protruding from the stone that served as much more than decoration in this case. It felt like a bit of home already he laughed, as he swung his feet to rest in bust of a beautiful goddess, one of many depicted in the intricate stonework. Any sailor worth his salt would love such a climb indeed.

They landed with the grace of cats and scurried to the cover of denser foliage. As they travelled silently, inching ever closer to the forest line, Maeve gestured for him to halt and come closer. "There's something you should know before you meet him," she whispered, giving him an awkward look. "He can't speak. When he was young, his father was a drunkard, and began to say the wrong things about the wrong people in the wrong places. As punishment for his brazen words, they took the tongue of his son, to remind him of the power of speech."

Sinbad was horrified, shuddering at the cruelty he knew his oppressors were fond of exacting upon the Without. It was a Capital offense to speak ill of the royal family… such talk must be kept to whispers in taverns or in the confines of one's home. It was needlessly sadistic however, to punish the child for the sins of the father. Stories of such inhumanity were the reason why a violent rebel organization such as the Scarlett Guard existed in the first place, and why they could easily become a symbol of hope and strength for such an oppressed people.

As they approached the treeline, there was movement up ahead and to their left. A man stepped out into the moonlight, imposing with his strong, almost regal presence, silent and deadly. His dark skin marked him as one of Moorish descent, his rippling muscles on perfect display upon his shirtless physique. His most imposing feature however, was the set of knives he wore harnessed to his chest, a deadly warning to anyone who wished to cross him. This man may have been horribly abused as a child, but he had grown into a man to be respected and feared.

Maeve smiled in greeting, holding out her arm for him to clasp. "Sinbad, this is Rongar," she said. "Rongar, this is Sinbad." Sinbad held out his arm as Maeve had done, and looked him in the eyes, nodding his head. Rongar nodded as well and took his arm, their introduction complete.

"Let's move into the cover of the trees. The less chance of being seen, the better," ascertained Maeve, looking around her to be sure of their privacy. Both men did as they were told, unwilling to be caught in their clandestine evening adventure either. It was nearly impossible to see upon entering the forest, the moonlight being blocked out quite thoroughly, but that wasn't a problem for Maeve. She quickly conjured a fireball that lit up their meeting as effectively as any torch. Sinbad couldn't help but admire her for a moment… it was the first time he had seen her display her powers, and they were enchanting to him. Mind you, everything about her tended to be that way for him.

"Rongar, can you take us to Basra tonight please?" asked Maeve. "Sinbad's family lives there, and he deserves the chance to see them, to let them know that he is safe and well."

Rongar nodded extending his arms, gesturing for them to grab hold. Maeve wrapped her hand around his wrist, inclining her head to let Sinbad know to the do the same. "Hold tight Captain," she smiled, and before he had time to comprehend what was about to happen, the world disappeared in a blur of light and sound. Sinbad thought his very being would explode in the cacophony, but it was over scarcely before it had begun. He opened his eyes to trees surrounding him again, but they weren't the same trees. And there was a sound in the distance that made his soul feel alive. The unmistakeable sound of the ocean.

They stepped out into the clearing beyond, to see the docks Sinbad was all too familiar with. The docks he had known all his life. Basra… it was an impossibility, but he was home. In an instant, Rongar had brought them here. Sinbad wondered what Master Dim Dim and Firouz would think of such a miracle. Let alone that a person who could do such a thing existed.

Though he was eager to find Doubar, his first instinct was to look for the Nomad. To see if she had survived the bombing at the docks in Baghdad. Putting the hood up on his cloak to prevent being recognized, he hurried along the length of the docks, searching at an almost frantic pace. He needn't have worried, he breathed a sigh of relief. About a hundred metres down the way he saw her unmistakeable mast anchored safely in the harbour. Seeing her here, untouched, meant that his men must also be alive and well. Although he was no longer their Captain, he couldn't help but feel responsible for them, feeling a twinge of sadness as he accepted the fact that there was someone new now who would shoulder that responsibility.

"She's a beautiful ship," consoled Maeve, as she discreetly took his hand. "I only have the fondest memories of her," she laughed, a sound that lit up his world. Being around her loveliness every day almost made saying goodbye to the Nomad bearable. Almost.

"Do you know where we can find your brother at this hour?" she asked, knowing that three mysterious strangers shouldn't linger strangely at the docks for long.

Sinbad nodded, forcing himself to turn his back on his ship, at the same time saying goodbye to the life he had known. One of the only parts of it he had loved. He would have to find other things to be proud of. Other things to love. He squeezed Maeve's hand as he set off towards Doubar's favourite pub.

"So why do you do it Maeve? Sneak out to Basra under the cover of night?" he asked suddenly, curious about her strange pastime.

Maeve smiled, her eyes reflecting the moonlight. With her cloak and the lighting, she reminded Sinbad of the first time he had met her, where she stepped out of the forest like a fair creature from a fantasy story. It was a look that suited her well, he couldn't help but note.

"A Queen should know her people. I do it in other cities too… I've even visited the war front before, but that was very dangerous. Almost got caught and worse. Regardless, I like to see how things really are in the kingdom, instead of being told by advisors and diplomats. That's what a good Queen would do."

"And what do you see, Princess?" asked Sinbad, admiring her for her strength but also her empathy.

Maeve sighed. "I see a world balanced on the edge of a knife. Without balance it will fall. And there are so many factors to balance, more than just the inequality between reds and silvers. Wars with Egypt, South Asia, and continual territory disputes within our own borders. My mother believes that by holding tight to tradition, by showing "strength and power" to our enemies, we secure the best lives possible for our people."

"But not for everyone," ascertained Sinbad.

"No," Maeve answered. "And that's why she is wrong."

Sinbad wanted to ask her what she intended to do differently, but before he knew it, they had arrived at Doubar's favourite tavern, the warm light from within flickering through the darkness around. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses echoed through the silence, and beckoned the three travellers into the din. As much as he didn't want to, Sinbad let go of Maeve's hand before they passed through the doors. He didn't need to shock Doubar anymore than he would at seeing him anyways.

Ever a creature of habit, Doubar sat at the table in the far corner near the fire. Evening campfires were his favourite part of any day, Sinbad well knew, where full bellies of food and grog rested alongside warmth and merriment. Tonight, it seemed he had found someone to share his meal with. Aiden sat alongside him, pint in hand, in the middle of what looked like a long-winded diatribe.

"Excuse me, is this a private lesson or can anyone join in?" interrupted Sinbad, appearing between the two men. They both froze and stared at him although they had seen a ghost. Doubar's face turned an unnameable colour before he sprang up to grasp him tightly and shouted with uninhibited joy, "SINBAD…. LITTLE BROTHER… you're here," quieting down slightly at Sinbad's insistence to keep the volume down. So much for keeping a low profile, he thought with mirth.

"How is this great fortune possible?" asked Aiden, bewildered. "Doubar was told just yesterday that you had been transferred to the war front in the North, and had been shipped off immediately."

"Yeah. Then they showed up with enough food for an army and good coin besides. Said an anonymous donor had taken an interest in our family and wanted to ensure we were well provided for. Right." Doubar scoffed. "That's why they took my only living family member and shipped him off to die fighting their petty war. That's why they took the best years of my life, along with my leg and squandered it on the war front too. I'd prefer they keep their interest far away from our family for the foreseeable future."

Sinbad shook his head, grasping his brother's shoulders tightly. "Doubar, as you can see all of that is a lie, but the truth is a bit of a long story, so may I suggest we sit?"

"Good idea little brother, you always were the smart one," he laughed. "And your friends? Are they going to join us, or just stand there like our personal bodyguards?"

"Right, of course!" shouted Sinbad. "Doubar, this is Maeve. Maeve, my older brother. And this is Rongar… he's more the silent type, but good company nonetheless."

"Pleased to meet you both. It figures you would find yourself a beautiful lady friend to bring home after a couple days of mysterious absence," he winked. Sinbad couldn't help but admire her furious blush at those words, as she turned to make Aiden's acquaintance.

"Right so, the truth! And don't be skimpy with the details," warned Doubar.

Sinbad wasn't. He recounted everything from meeting his new friend Firouz, to discovering his newfound powers, to being tortured by Prince Turok, to being betrothed to a princess.

"Wait, so let me get this straight," interrupted Doubar, who was sweating profusely from his tale, and had already gone through two additional rounds of drinks. "You're engaged to a princess, but not this princess," he gestured to Maeve. "But you came here to introduce this one to your family. By Allah brother, that's a mess I'm glad I don't have to be the one to clean up."

Sinbad rubbed his face in his hands, aware of how the situation sounded. Aware of how his entire story sounded. Like something from a dramatic play, unlikely to have a happy ending. But what choice did he have other than to let it play out? He wanted Maeve to be a part of his story, and what's more, she wanted to be a part of it too. They had taken too much from him already, to take his heart would be unacceptable.

"That's a difficult situation you find yourself in, son," said Aiden, who had been rather quiet up until now. "All of it. A remarkable situation though. To discover such power in such an unexpected place. And to be transformed into a Prince overnight… more power still. There is much you could accomplish."

Sinbad gave him a long, hard look, trying not to be angry with the man who had been as a father to him for most of his life. But the memory of his fear at discovering the bombing at the docks, and the careless way that lives were cast aside in the name of a cause that claimed to value such lives, soured the happy moment.

"I would ask for your advice on how exactly I should go about accomplishing things, but I fear you're already too busy accomplishing things of your own," replied Sinbad coldly.

"I'm never too busy for you son, you should know that," answered Aiden, unfazed.

"Really? Well I'm not so sure what I should know anymore, especially when I'm hardly sure I know who you are anymore." Sinbad knew he should perhaps have sought a private audience for this conversation, but he didn't know how much more time they had left here, and he intended to spend all of it in the company of his brother.

"Sinbad, what's all this about?" inquired Doubar, not wanting anything to get in the way of enjoying this night. "Aiden is like family to us… is family. Surely you know that about him."

"It's not so much who he is, as who he's becoming that concerns me," ascertained Sinbad, unwilling to let the subject drop.

Aiden took a long sip from his drink, not breaking eye contact with him. "Sinbad, there are things in this world that we, as Without, accept. Things we have learned to accept, but that does not mean that they are acceptable. Our children live without food and futures, doomed to be drafted into glorified slavery with a trade, or their deaths at the warfront. I'm sure you've now had the chance to see how children in the Capital live? Tell me, what do their futures look like?"

Sinbad shifted uncomfortably in his seat. All of what he said was true, but that did not make what he did, what he does, right. "And what of the women and children who were near the docks of the Capital yesterday? What of their fathers? Do their lives not matter, so long as you cause a big enough explosion to gain attention? To get your point across?"

Aiden took a deep breath, measuring his next words. "In times of war, of revolution, sacrifices must be made in the name of what is right, what is good. Freedom, my son. Surely that is something worth dying for. Worth living for."

Sinbad had been fed rhetoric his whole life, and he was beyond accepting it at the moment. Especially not from this man he had trusted to be better than all that. "How many casualties were there Aiden? HOW MANY?"

"There were no casualties," interrupted Maeve, quick and firm. The silence that punctuated the following moments threatened to stifle Sinbad where he sat.

Doubar reached over to place his hand above his brother's on the table. "The Guard always chooses targets that are empty or abandoned at the time. The part of the docks that exploded was filled with out of commission vessels, and is scarcely manned."

Sinbad could hardly speak, the words feeling like fire in his throat. "Why?"

"Because I ask them to, that's why," replied Maeve. "Bloodshed is not our way, despite what those in the Capital may say. Not unless unavoidably necessary."

Sinbad buried his face in his hands for a long moment, trying to digest what he had just discovered. Maeve, Doubar, they were part of the Scarlet Guard too. How could he not have known that both his brother and mentor were part of a dangerous, revolutionary organization for Allah knows how long. And Maeve…

"Maeve," he said suddenly. "What happened to you saying that change took time, and that you couldn't do anything extreme in your position lest you be killed or overthrown in the process. Wouldn't you say spearheading a rebel organization of militant Without to blow up Baghdad bit by bit goes against your logic?"

She smiled bitterly. "Maeve the Crown Princess cannot do what I can right now. Cannot be who I am right now…the shadow of the flame, but no less bright. I see the way the Without live and die each day as if their existence was only to serve those with power. It is not right, and I cannot stand by living my life of luxury and privilege while half my people are enslaved to the other half. If the Scarlett Guard makes enough noise, gets more strategic in their targets, I am confident that my family, my mother, will have to listen. Make some concessions in the right direction. A direction I can continue once I take her place.

"And while this noise is being made, how many innocents will be made to suffer the consequences of the royal family's wrath? Things will get infinitely worse, for everyone, before and if they get better," countered Sinbad.

"So, more will join us," continued Aiden. "More will be emboldened to acknowledge that the lives we live are wrong, and that something can be done to change that." He paused to rest his hand upon Sinbad's shoulder. "We've stood still for far too long my son… it's time to make sacrifices and move forward to a brighter future. It will all be worth it in the end when you see the opportunity, the freedom that future generations can and will inherit."

The table was silent except for Rongar, who moved his head slowly up and down in acknowledgement of Aiden's words. The people Sinbad cared about most on this earth were assembled here at this table, and they all believed in this cause, this organization that he felt wary of at best. He sighed deeply, rubbed his face once more and ran his hand along his hair for good measure. "Fine, when do we start?"

The silence continued on for a few moments more before Doubar said, "Does this mean that you agree? That you're joining us?" His excitement was hesitant, yet palpable.

Sinbad looked at him a long moment, before saying, "I'm not sure exactly that I agree, but you didn't give me much choice in the matter of joining now did you? If you think I'm going to abandon you, Aiden and Maeve to light fires beneath the most dangerous people on the continent, you don't know me as well as I thought."

"Now now Sinbad, be nice. Perhaps he's just worried that the past two days you've spent in the lap of luxury turned you soft." Aiden stared Sinbad down seriously for a couple of moments, before bursting out laughing. Sinbad was not far behind him. "By Allah, you should have seen your face," heaved Aiden, still breathless. "I thought you swallowed a mouthful of sea water, you were so disgusted."

Sinbad shook his head and caught his breath as well. "The day I turn my back on my family and friends, is the day I can no longer call myself by my name. But please, try to avoid getting us all killed if possible."

"Aye, here's to that," chimed in Doubar, raising his glass. "And to family, friends and freedom!"

Sinbad drank deeply, polishing off his pint, and ordered another round. Perhaps getting unspeakably drunk would help take the edge off of his nerves, which themselves felt as though they had been exploded one by one and lit on fire.

Aiden finished his drink as well, and pondered Sinbad for a moment before addressing him. "As you said before Son, the bombings are just a way to get attention. Once we have it, once every Red and Silver in this forsaken country is watching, we need something to show them." He reached over and placed his arm on Sinbad's shoulder once more. "I think you'll do nicely."

Sinbad froze. "For what?"

"As the face of our glorious revolution. Come on now son, we've always known you've been handsome. Let's put those dreamy blue eyes and that winning smile of yours to good use," he laughed. At Sinbad's steely look, he capitulated. "Oh, come on now, everyone knows your worth lies in more than your looks. In despite of them actually. We can bomb and burn every inch of the Continent down, but that will never do the damage that you can do on your pedestal built of blood and dreams. A red-blooded Without with abilities. What will people say… what will people do when they see you standing with us? Standing for us?"

"Here, here!" shouted Doubar as he took a drink. Rongar joined him for the toast and took a deep gulp as well. Maeve offered him a gentle smile, sensing how unsettled he was feeling at the moment. Despite being a Captain, he wasn't fond of being the centre of attention, put up on some pedestal for people to admire and obey. That sort of thing was for nobles and royals; if only Maeve could stand up and let her true feelings be known to her people without being assassinated on the spot. Perhaps one day she would get the chance.

"What about Rongar," asked Sinbad suddenly, remembering that there was another exceptional individual among them. "Wouldn't the people wish to follow him? His story is especially powerful. He has more reason to lead a rebel group than I ever could."

Aiden smiled. "Rongar is second to none in importance to us; gifted, a warrior, a fierce friend. But it will be hard for him to raise a call to arms without the power of his voice. To tell his story, to really connect with the people. Besides, he is not currently living as a Lord and future Prince in Baghdad's great palace, the subject of unceasing gossip from here to Turkey from your show of power the other night. I'm sorry son, but it has to be you."

Of course it did, grimaced Sinbad. He was famous now. He had become a royal or would be one soon enough. The people knew him and believed in Turok and Elara's carefully crafted lie about his heritage, his blood. When he sliced open his hand to show incontrovertible proof that he was indeed a red with abilities, it would light the continent up better than any of Maeve's fireballs. At least he would get the chance to stand there with Doubar and Maeve close by, to best protect them from the storm they were going to unleash.

Sinbad took a long look at Aiden before nodding his head. This was not how he imagined his trip home to Basra would be. Rather than alleviating some of his worries about Doubar being kept in the dark, he instead discovered that his brother had gotten himself inextricably tangled up in danger of his own. Danger spearheaded by his father figure and mentor. Danger that the woman who had stolen his heart was riding upon the back of. Danger that he himself now shouldered.

But rather than brood, Sinbad drank, and he smiled and he laughed. Because he didn't know when he would next get the chance to be with his family again, surrounded by merriment. And because Maeve's beautiful smile was even more endearing to him than Doubar's hearty laugh. And because maybe, just a little bit, he believed that they may have a real chance to make a difference. And such hopes, such dreams, were the stuff of life.