A/N: *laughs nervously* Hey, guys... I'M SO SORRY! I haven't updated in like forever, I feel so terribly guilty... RL was really crazy for a while, and I was pretty busy. But here, have a shiny new chapter!
Also, OH MY GOSH! YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING! SO MANY follows and reviews and favorites OH MY GOSH. You guys are the BEST. Really, I have warm fuzzies every time I see your guys' reviews and follows, it makes me happy. And gives me motivation. I checked my email today, and it was so full of notifications that I literally sat down and wrote this chapter in like two hours. Today. So, Q&A! Aglio-Saggezza, no, you are not being conceited. And- *sighs in relief* honestly I didn't even think about the fact that it looked like I stole your idea, so I am SUPER GRATEFUL you're flattered instead. After all, 'imitation is the sincerest form of flattery'! And SpadianTimeMage, thank you and the fic is named To Let You Shine by Aglio-Saggezza. On ff . net, it's chapter 7. THANKS FOR ALL THE COMPLIMENTS EVERYONE! Please review!
The moon was high overhead by the time Ja'far crawled back through his window, splattered with blood and satisfied with his work. It'd taken both more time than he thought and less time than he'd feared for the slaver to talk- admittedly, he'd done things a little slower than usual since he was out of practice. I should do this more often, the advisor mused. There's something incredibly relaxing about taking care of a threat myself. Actually, he felt better than he had in months, all the tension drained out of him. Apparently assassination was an excellent destresser.
Ja'far shook his head at his thoughts, amused despite himself. He was relaxed, but not very tired; he felt, in fact, extremely alert. Ready for anything. He tried not to giggle. That would be undignified. But honestly, he couldn't remember the last time he felt this… free. Free from responsibility. Free from the polite mask he kept up, day after day. Free from the political niceties and social restraint of no, you can't kill them, no matter how annoying they get and useless they are.
Ja'far enjoyed his job most of the time. Was proud of the position he held. But sometimes the pressure of deadlines and the feeling of First Advisor actually meaning glorified babysitter pressed down on him until he wanted to scream or kill something. And he hadn't gotten to do either. Except I just did. The General gave a tiny, wicked smile, and walked over to his wardrobe. Can't leave evidence lying around… shame, these were a good purchase. I'll have to see if I can find out when that merchant next makes port. Stripping off the bloodstained garments, he dumped them into the empty fireplace. He slipped on a robe, and padded silently down the hall to the baths.
Ten minutes later, he was back in his chambers, freshly scrubbed, properly dressed, and pouring lamp oil over the bundle of cloth in the fireplace. Taking his flint, he lit it, watching to make sure it burned to ashes. When it was done, he gathered them up in a small bag to later scatter in the gardens. You can never be too careful, after all. Sighing, he made his way over to his desk. There was a spy in the palace, and he'd have to speak to Sharrkan and Masrur about increasing the perimeter guard. Really, it was just embarrassing they hadn't noticed the men watching their patrol routes.
Ja'far stretched briefly, then settled himself at his desk. The only reason he wasn't drowning in paperwork like Sin was because he spent most of his day making sure he got everything done. He was not going to let it pile up, regardless of the circumstances, which meant that unless he wanted to spend all day tomorrow barricaded in his office, he'd better do some now. I'll deal with the spy tomorrow, he decided, smoothing a document and setting out his ink. From what the slaver told me, I very much doubt they're spying of their own free will, but it's best to make sure. The assassin's eyes narrowed. Because no one will be killing my king.
Ja'far strode down the hall toward the dining area, suppressing a yawn. He'd ended up only getting a couple hours of sleep, between the paperwork and planning how to deal with the spy. Hindsight has perfect vision, as they say. I should have gone to sleep earlier, he berated himself. He paused, frowning slightly. Strange. I thought I heard something just now. "...far…" There! Wait a minute, I know that voice… The advisor spun around just in time for a purple-and-gold blur to slam into him. "JA'FAR!"
Said man wheezed in response, the breath having been knocked out of him. "Ja'far, you're back! I'm so glad you're alright, I had no idea where you were and the others wouldn't let me go look for you!" Sinbad rambled. "You know, it's a little dangerous right now with those terrorist-whoevers running around loose, you could've gotten hurt! You're not hurt, are you?" the king worried, stepping back to look his advisor over.
Ja'far squirmed out of the hold his friend had on his shoulders, a bit exasperated. "I'm fine. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Besides, the 'terrorist-whoevers' aren't a problem anymore. Now, if you'll excuse me, I intend to have breakfast, and then I have some paperwork to take care of." He turned and resumed walking down the hall, leaving Sinbad to trail after him.
"I know you can take care of yourself!" Sin protested. "I just worry, is all- wait. Wait, what? What do you mean they're 'not a problem anymore'? They attacked the palace, how is that not a problem?!" Ja'far turned his head to meet the king's eyes. "Exactly what I said," he returned evenly, and permitted himself a small smirk. "They are not a problem anymore, Sin."
Sinbad opened his mouth to continue questioning him, and then seemed to register the look on his General's face. And what it might mean. Slowly, he closed his mouth, paling slightly. Ja'far could almost see him very carefully decide to drop the subject and leave it far, far behind, where it would hopefully never reach his nightmares. Would you look at that- he can be taught, the assassin snickered inwardly. Cheered, he went on through the corridors, his king shooting him wary glances, until they reached the dining hall.
Sin snapped out of it, bursting into the room exuberantly. "Ja'far's back!" he announced happily. Only a few Generals were currently in the room; Pisti, Masrur, and Sharrkan. Ja'far assumed Yamuraiha was still in her workshop, but couldn't guess where the others might be. Pisti huffed, not really caring, and he gave her a nod as she flounced out of the room, apparently not in the mood to deal with Sinbad today.
"Ja'far!" Sharrkan greeted him. "Nice to see you around today. Where were you, anyway?" he inquired, oblivious to the panicked look and various 'no' signs Sin was giving him. "Sinbad was going nuts- I think the only reason he didn't go out looking for you was because you'd have killed him if you came back and he wasn't here." Ja'far looked him straight in the eye, and smiled coolly. "Just taking care of some rather urgent… business."
Sharrkan swallowed, unnerved but unable to really put his finger on why. "...Right. Well, Yamuraiha did something magic to track the bastards who attacked us yesterday, and it doesn't look like they've gone anywhere so far. We were going to go after them this morning. Want to came?" he offered. Ja'far suppressed the smirk he felt at the thought of the other Generals stumbling onto the mess he left behind. "No, thank you," he demurred. "I have paperwork to catch up on, since I was gone yesterday. But you all have fun."
The others shivered at the tone in his voice. Ja'far was laughing at them, inside. When was the last time he messed with them? He used to do it to Sin and Hinahoho all the time… When had he stopped? When had that changed? He had the suspicion it was around the same time being Sindria's Advisor began to consume him. No more. I should start being myself more often. I mean really, Sinbad's nearly forgotten what the assassin brat he took in was like, and that just won't do. Reminding him will be good for him, the assassin plotted. If it doesn't give him a heart attack, that is.