DISCLAIMER: Magi and other discernible characters/quotes/citations belong to their respective authors. I do not own original content, Magi. No profits were made.

COVER CREDITS: MAGI THE LABYRINTH OF MAGIC BY SHINOBU OHTAKA (c). Cover Credits: Original Fan Character by Aladdin.

Cited: magi. Fandom wiki

A/N: Hello everyone, I'm sorry that it's been a while. It was hard to win that battle against Writer's Block! Not a lot of edits in this chapter but still worth a refresher read. Thanks for waiting~ Happy reading, y'all!

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Magi

Chapter IX: Happy Mahrajan

There was only one day left before the harvest festival commences. After a full day's rest, a refreshing bath, and a fantastic meal, everyone was ready to help prepare for the festival. They started the day off with some training. Sinbad was squared off with Masrur when Samara arrived at the training grounds of the Silver Scorpio Tower.

"Who's winning?" Samara asked as she walked up to the benches where Ja'Far, Hinahoho, and Yamraiha were sitting.

"Drakkon is winning by about four hits against Sharrkan; Pisti is definitely kicking Spartos's butt; Masrur is going way too easy on Sinbad…" Hinahoho reported with his arms crossed and eyes intently watching the matches.

Ja'Far looked up at her and noticed a slight variance in her appearance, "Oh, you're not wearing your facial veil today, Priestess?"

Samara smiled as she gazed at the King, exhibiting his fighting prowess, "No, not today," she responded ambiguously to Ja'Far's question. She turned to him and gave a tentative answer, "I thought it made me stand out like a sore thumb. I wanted to blend in a little more."

"We want to be respectful of your culture. You don't have to take it off to feel that you belong." Yamraiha offered sincerely.

"Yes, any guest of Sin's is welcome here no matter the attire, age, status, or gender." Hinahoho further reassured.

Samara giggled quietly. "Then, would you do me the honor of sparring with me, Hinahoho?"

The three Generals on the bench exchanged glances at her strange request, wondering why she dodged the topic entirely.

"Are you sure you wouldn't want to spar with me instead?" Yamraiha clarified.

"Hinahoho would do just fine as a sparring partner," Samara responded with a gentle smile.

"We're not worried about that, Priestess…" Ja'Far was dumbfounded.

Samara wagged her finger at him, "Mm-mm, not a Priestess anymore, Ja'Far. Just Samara will do. Thank you."

Hinahoho stood up, towering over Samara, "Well, if you insist, Samara. Be warned; I won't go easy on you."

"I expect nothing less from the future Chief of Imuchakk." Samara bowed slightly.

The pair stepped into one of the rings on the sand.

"Your weapon of choice?" Hinahoho asked.

Samara untied a long blue scarf-like cloth from her waist, surprising the Generals, even those in the middle of a sparring match, causing them to be momentarily distracted. She laid it over both of her palms facing the sky, "This flying scarf here will do."

Hinahoho blinked twice, in confusion and awe. "A-Alright, then… Here I come!" He charged at her with his red, spikey harpoon.

Samara lifted her right arm and wrapped the scarf around the tip of Hinahoho's weapon and easily deflected his attack, disarming the huge man. Everyone blinked a few times, not believing what they couldn't see.

"What just happened?" Pisti asked excitedly, "I couldn't even see Samara's moves!"

"You couldn't see the actual movements because your eyes focused on the fluttery illusion of the scarf." The King explained.

Hinahoho chuckled, "We were right to keep you around for the Mahrajan."

Samara squeezed the long end of the scarf between her left thumb and palm. She grabbed the shorter side with her right hand and slid the scarf over and behind her head, extending her arms perpendicular to each other, and her left foot pivoted towards her opponent. She turned her fingers upwards and curled them toward herself, calling Hinahoho forward for another chance to hit her.

He simply held up both of his hands and laughed, humbly yielding. "I know when I'm defeated."

Samara lowered her hands and bowed, "Thank you for your time."

"It was my pleasure." Hinahoho picked up his weapon and sat back down on the sidelines.

A flying scarf, huh? Ja'Far thought to himself.

Hinahoho sat upright and crossed his arms next to the two generals watching the fight. "I know what both of you are thinking."

Yamraiha interjected, putting her hand on her chin, "I wonder if it's just like Aladdin's flying turban…"

The former Priestess started to tie the scarf back around her waist. She was looking down when the King swooped in and laced his hand on the small of her back. She looked up and found her lips meeting with his as the rest of her front side met all of his. Awkwardly putting her arms up by his shoulders, not knowing where to place her hands, she unknowingly held her breath, unable to think – she was frozen as she still wasn't quite used to his romantics.

He pulled away from her a little after their kiss and asked, "Where is your veil? Everyone here is staring at you too intently."

Samara put her hands on the King's chest and gave him a little pat, "They're staring because I am a stranger so warmly welcomed by their King. Of course, they have a right to be curious. The veil only made me seem unapproachable and piqued their interest more because of the anonymity of the concept."

"I still don't like them gawking at you." The King looked up and sneered at the people, gesturing for them to look away.

Sharrkan put an arm on Spartos's shoulders and whistled, "Man, oh man, Sinbad is already marking his territory. Sorry, kid, the King's game is a long way ahead of yours." He winked at him.

Young Spartos blushed and shoved his friend away. "Shut up!"

Yamraiha turned and whispered to Ja'Far, "This could be a problem…"

Ja'Far kept his hands together, tucked away in his sleeves, praying for the best outcome for his King, his friend. "Not if Aladdin vouches for her."

"Let's hope he does…" Hinahoho said. None of the three generals tore their gazes away from the former Priestess even after the sparring matches concluded.

On the day of the Mahrajan…

The King, and his Generals, put on quite a show for the citizens and brought in quite a big haul for the feast. Still, the real spectacle was when Samara floated in the air in a bright golden borg of White Rukh, held her hands out, and pushed out an excessive quantity of magoi to fend off the colossal sea monster from that year's harvest festival. The spectators were not sure if she could actually communicate with the beast or if it just cowered away in fear of an apex predator.

The citizens clapped as their heroes paraded through town after the harvest. It was the citizens' duty to cook the yield from the harvest for the Mahrajan feast as the warriors bathe and get ready for the festivities.

They arrived at the castle, and everyone went to their respective bed chambers. Sinbad took Samara's hand as they walked through the hallway alone. Sinbad prayed that the corridor would never end. Alas, they came to the end of the hall where they must part ways and go to their separate rooms.

She looked over at him, and they turned to face each other.

"We'll conserve more water if you join me in the bath," the King said playfully as he pulled her waist closer to his and nuzzled his forehead against hers, kissing her nose.

She chuckled as she put her right arm around him and held up their intertwined fingers to her chest, "You… are such a smooth-talker."

They shared a long soft kiss.

She kept nuzzling their foreheads and noses together after the kiss. "Sinbad… I want to say something to you," she bit her lower lip lightly then spoke softly, "You shouldn't kiss me in front of your Generals or your subjects…"

The King chuckled nervously, his hands flailing about – scratching the back of his head, the other waving aimlessly, "Have I offended you, Priestess?"

"No," she said, kissing him again, softly, "not at all…" and once more, "I just need to earn their trust and respect first."

"You really are quite amazing." The King kissed her a little more intensely. They both giggled and chuckled.

"We need to bathe," Samara stated and kissed him again, playfully.

"My offer still stands." The King kissed her back.

Samara laughed and pushed him away, "You need to go bathe—on your own! You reek of sea monster guts."

She was walking further away, and her hand was slipping out of the King's — he could not bear it — so he pulled her close for another kiss, this time a big, sloppy, wet one for good measure.

"You are insatiable." Samara laughed as she swung her arms around his neck.

"I can't bear to be apart from you. I am begging you; please stay with me." The King pleaded like a child.

She smiled gently, "Keep me close to your heart."

"I intend to…" He kissed her one last time, "…always."

They parted ways and readied themselves in their respective rooms.

After her bath, Samara sat in front of her mirror and cast a clairvoyance spell. A Samarian scholar answered on the other side. "I do not have much time. Please get a message to Lian – Prepare for the worst, I might need the key."

A knock was heard on Samara's door. "Are you decent?" The King inquired.

Samara's concentration broke, thus breaking the clairvoyance magic. She cleared her throat, "Yes, come on in."

"That's a shame," The King whispered disappointedly under his breath as he opened the door, unaware of Samara's conversation that had just unfolded.

Samara was fully clothed and had just finished braiding her hair and circling it up in a bun, securing it with a pin. She turned to the King. He was still in awe of her blinding beauty. Suddenly, he frowned.

"No veil tonight, either?" He asked, pleadingly.

Samara smiled as she walked to meet him next to the bed. "Truthfully?"

He took both of her hands in his.

Her face flushed at her next words, "It makes it hard to do this…" she leaned in, closed her eyes, and gave the King a soft kiss.

The King exhaled lightly and held her face with one hand, bringing her closer by the waist using the other, deepening their kiss. He pulled away and smiled, "You drive a hard bargain, woman."

She smiled back, "The purpose of the veil was never to hide oneself. Quite the opposite, really – it is meant to reveal more."

The King held her closer and whispered in her ear, "What do you say we skip the festival and reveal much more to each other?"

"Let's take it one proposal at a time, High King." She took his hand from around her waist and led him to the door. "You still need to return the hospitality I showed you."

They walked beside each other, talking about the silliest random topics, but neither of them would prefer to do anything else with anyone else. Arriving at the festival night market, they attracted everyone's attention. From afar, they looked like a match made in heaven, the kind of couple that radiated happiness and are living proof of the possibility of forever, which made the King's previous conquests quite jealous.

"Sindria's economy thrives because of the trade market. Many of its citizens are traders from other countries that settled here after they established trade with us." The King explained.

Samara stopped at one of the stalls and looked at the handcrafted jewelry. She picked up one of the intricate necklaces from the table and turned to the vendor, "Beautiful design. Did you make these yourself?"

"Ah, yes, miss." He responded, and brought his daughter forward, gently guiding her by the shoulders. "My young daughter has a talent for design, and we make them together."

"You've done a great job. What's your name?" Samara complimented.

The young girl, about eight years old, shyly put her fingers up to her mouth and responded softly. "Amila…"

The King simply watched their interaction unfold, with his hands laced behind his back.

"My name is Samara. It's lovely to meet you." She held up the necklace she picked out before. "How much for this beautiful necklace, Amila?"

She looked up at her father, who gently smiled and nodded at her. She started counting on her left hand, with the fingers of her right hand, still touching her lips. She held up three fingers to Samara, and confidently responded, "Five coins, please!"

The King chuckled and pulled out his coin pouch and handed the little girl double the amount she initially declared. "Happy Mahrajan, Amila."

The young girl simply handed it to her father, who thanked the generous King.

"It's a great choice, miss." Amila's eyes lit up, and her shyness faded away. "I think it would suit you really nicely."

Samara smiled at her, "You know what I think? I think it would look way better on you." She encouraged the little girl to come around the corner of her stall. "May I?"

Once again, the young girl looked up at her father for approval. He nodded gently once more. Amila excitedly walked in front of Samara so she can place the necklace over her head, adjusting the string so the pendant would be level to her chest. Finally, pulling her long hair over the nape of her neck.

"Just as I thought, it looks great on you." Samara smiled and gently smoothed her thumb on the young girl's cheek.

Amila hugged her tightly, and she hugged her back for a bit of time, allowing the girl to let go first. "Thank you, miss Samara."

The former Priestess, who retains all of her grace, patted her head, "You're very welcome. Happy Mahrajan."

The girl went back to her father's side and waved the couple goodbye.

The King led the way again, and they went to a more secluded part of the island. They walked through a bit of forestry to reveal a lagoon separated from the rest of the sea by a calm inlet. The King lifted a large leaf out of the way to show an even better feature of the body of water. There was a flash of blue-green light where the ocean met the sand along the shoreline.

"Oh my…" Samara's jaw dropped in awe, her eyes forward, bringing her fingers to cover her open mouth. "Sinbad, it's beautiful."

The King smiled, not tearing his gaze away from her, wanting to replace those fingers, and touch her mouth with his lips. "Very beautiful…"

She looked back at him and noticed he wasn't talking about the lagoon at all, making her blush.

"Fair warning, though – the illuminated waters may be enchantingly beautiful, but it proved mildly toxic earlier on. It caused similar effects seen in mild poisonings such as vomiting and slight fever. Some citizens have reported that long exposure to the waters can affect their memory for a short time."

Samara stopped at the edge of dry land, "Thank you for the warning. It is certainly compelling to dip your toes in."

"This phenomenon is the reason why I chose to build the Kingdom of Sindria on this island. In all of my travels, I have never seen a sight quite like it… until I met you."

"You're very kind, High King." Samara coyly responded, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"It is nothing compared to your kindness and grace." They walked on the dock and arrived at a small boat at the end. He extended his hand to Samara to help her into the fishing boat, "What you did for Amila, it was a refreshing sight to see."

"I have a question for you," Samara said as the King untied the boat from the dock and tossed the rope in.

He hopped in and pushed the tip of the oar against the dock, setting the boat in motion. He sat down and started rowing to the middle, the trail of water behind them slowly illuminating blue as the water was gently disturbed. "Yes, my love?"

"How do your merchants establish trade here?" Samara did not beat around the bush.

"Well, they bring their goods, and as long as they have diversity, fair prices, and they don't prove to be ominous, they are generally allowed to trade in this kingdom."

"Do you believe Amila's father to be a good man?"

The King kept rowing until they were in the middle of the lagoon. "Yes, he has no transgressions against the kingdom or its citizens."

"I believe he is a good man and a good father as well." Samara looked out into the lagoon, where the fish were outlined in fluorescent algae as they swam and gently disturbed the water under the boat. "…but his circumstances don't prove to be so kind to him and his daughter."

"What makes you say so?" The King put the oars in the boat as they gently rocked in the middle of the lagoon, enjoying the privacy it provides. They could still hear the faint singing and laughter of the city celebrating the festival.

"I'd say Amila is between 8 to 10 years old. Yet, when I asked her the price for her beautiful creations, she barely knew how to count." Samara had the look of defeat in her eyes.

The King started pondering her point, "They most likely have very little. Still, they charge so little for such beautiful jewelry."

"Unfortunate circumstances…" Samara looked up at the King, "It is great for your country's economy that affordable trade is circulated in the market. However, is the cost of cheap production someone's entire childhood? Amila is a young, vibrant girl. Don't you think she should be allowed to be a child, explore and learn, discover herself, instead of having to help her family earn money?"

The King had no words, "I… have never thought so deeply about such matters."

"This is a beautiful country you have established, Sinbad." Samara reassured, "I simply recommend that you look closer, instead of trying to solve problems in the grand scheme. The reason you are half-fallen – it's not your own darkness inside of you, it's everyone else's."

The King was dumbfounded. All he knew at the time, all he believed was that he was helping the citizens of his kingdom by absorbing all their Black Rukh.

"Instead of allowing them an opportunity to grow and doing the hard work to help them overcome the path of the Black Rukh, you took on the burden all by yourself." Samara held his hand, and she continued in her soft, calming voice, "You mentioned you had become someone you don't recognize, someone you have never wanted to be."

The King gulped, reminiscing about his adventures.

Her eyes surveyed him, searching for something or someone through the windows of his soul. "In Samaria, the economy is based on making each individuals' little dreams come true."

He remembered what she said before, understanding it like an epiphany unfolding before him, "…measuring wealth through health, happiness, and equality – This is what you meant?"

"Correct, by helping fulfill each citizen's little dreams, not only do you help them grow, help them stay on the path of the White Rukh, but you give them something bigger than themselves that they want to fight for," she explained, as she continued to search his eyes intently. "What about you, what are your little dreams? Who do you want to be, Sinbad? What do you want to fight for?"

Remembering his parents and his little town in the Parthevia Empire, recalling the events that led him to be half-fallen, he searched for the answer to her question. "I—For the longest time, the only goal I knew was to make the world a better place."

"A better place for who?"

"As a child, my parents had nothing. My father was called to serve his country by fighting in the war that severely injured him, a battle that took his left leg. My mother died of a curable disease, but we did not have the money to pay for a healer and his potions." Recalling such painful events inevitably made the King's tears well up.

"However, you never harbored any hatred or the slightest ill-intent, and you never assigned any blame to anyone." Samara continued to hold his right hand with both of hers. She was gently rubbing her thumbs in circles across the back of his hand. Through this small skin contact, she is able to read his Rukh, and she cannot find Black Rukh that stems from his own painful experiences. "The Sinbad of that time, before anything awful ever happened, before the current Sinbad aimed to save the entire world, who did he want to be?"

"I… I just wanted to help my father catch fish out in the sea," Sinbad responded helplessly, a tear falling from his left eye.

"There you are, Sinbad…" She called out as if finding him again after the real him, the simple and helpful Sinbad who had been shut out by ambition and swallowed entirely by his big dreams. She reminded him of simpler times he had long forgotten and did not even know he still wanted.

"Thank you, Samara." The King uttered, unable to completely express his gratitude to the woman he loves for grounding him once again, making him vulnerable and giving him a clear perspective of his own life. He wiped the blurring tears away from his eyes and stared into the windows of her soul, "I love you… an incomprehensible amount. Yet, I fall deeper in love with you every day. It is a feeling I'm quite fond of. Spend the rest of your life with me."

Samara smiled, holding her hand up to his left cheek, "I hope you understand that I am not ready to give you an answer quite yet."

"I'll wait for you, however long it takes." Sinbad took her hands and kissed them right above the knuckles, smiling back at her as he gazed into her deep blue eyes.

She gazed back into his golden eyes, and they both engraved this memory in their hearts and minds… a monumental landmark to the start of their forever.