Judal buried his face into the heap of pillows and sighed. He twirled a golden tassel around his fingers and kicked his bare feet in the air. He felt so empty, as if there was a bottomless void inside him that couldn't be filled with all the riches and glory in the world. He had never been so…so lonely before. Or rather, he'd never actually thought he was so lonely before.

The room he was given was so comfortable. It was lavished with fine imported rugs, pillows, blankets, baskets, and an overabundance of other material goods that were brought for his delight. He had a proper bed but he preferred his makeshift mound of pillows that was conveniently right beside the fresh tray of peaches that had been brought into for him earlier. He loved peaches and was glad that the organization had gotten their hands on a large quantity of them, but as soon as the two people had come to deliver the fruit, they had left just as quickly and locked the room with a magical key so that he simply couldn't do as he pleased today.

The old men from Al Sarmen sure had been enraged when he'd arrived in the middle of the night four days after vanishing from their watch. They had had somewhat of a vague idea of where he'd been, that he'd been in the country of Sindria, but since the organization's temporary settlement was so far away, they had a great deal of difficulty even tracking the Magi to another country that lay 3 whole other countries away. He had lied and told them he'd gone to try and either convince Sinbad to join him again or kill him, but the old bastards were pissed he so easily disobeyed their orders of going places without at least one watchful eye.

The Magi rubbed his stinging back and neck, grateful that they hadn't touched his face or hair. They'd circled him on his way to his room and used some sort of gas to knock him out cold. When he'd come to he was blindfolded and chained facing a wall. He knew from former experiences that the room he was in had been made to completely barricade any magoi from entering in and that his shackles were specially made to drain his strength and his magoi so he couldn't retaliate. He shuddered as he heard the sound of the whip snapping in his mind, lashing and biting at his naked skin like some wild beast. Screams ripped from his throat so hard and abrupt that he became silent after a while and let the hot tears rush down his cheeks and the sweat drip from his chin. The pain had been so great that his knees had buckled together and he sagged to the ground as the whip slashed and tore at his back, how helpless he was but to endure the torture until the organization was satisfied that he'd learned his lesson. When it was finally finished they had carried him back to his private room, used healing magic, and washed him off properly before he was overwhelmed with exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep.

He really hadn't expected that to happen. The last time he was thoroughly punished was three years ago when he'd accidentally run his mouth off to a prince of the Kou Empire.

He snapped back to the present and noticed a heavy weight on his left ankle and gazed down to see a thick grey cuff chained to the wall.

Heh. I've lost so much of their trust that they have to take extra measures, eh? Cocky old bastards just can't let me do as I want all the time, even though they said I could. Fucking liars.

He fingered the metal cuff cautiously, as a cat would to a strange object. It was cold to the touch and he immediately felt weak and light-headed as he pulled his hand away. He could definitely feel it fastened on his ankle but as soon as his fingers had brushed against it an extraordinary amount of magoi was wrenched out of him. It probably also inhibited almost all of the magoi that flowed into him from the outside.

Annoying. So annoying!

There were no windows. No connections to the outside. He was pitifully and solemnly alone, with only the vibrant colored materials and exotic items for comfort. It was so dull and terribly quiet, so still and secluded. The only sound was Judal's own relaxed breathing and the shuffling of the fabrics as he moved around.

His fingers hovered hesitantly over the gold trinkets he constantly wore and shot out to grip the pillows firmly. He rested his head on a plush velvet cushion and breathed in the scent of the ripe peaches, the newly washed sheets, the clean set of clothes that smelled of vanilla that he wore. He was treated as both a king and prisoner. A pampered tool of destruction. There was no other way to live. There was no other option, no escape. He belonged to Al Sarmen and they belonged to him, albeit the latter a falsely sweet and bitter lie…

Damn, was it lonely! He gently shut his crimson eyes and hoped to quickly be welcomed into sleep's embrace but was instead greeted by the image of a beautiful purple-haired king and his warm, tan arms around his cold, pale body. His hot but musky breath laced with alcohol whispering reassuring words into his ears, his radiant amber eyes pulsing with want and acceptance. Yes, he envisioned Sinbad so vividly that he could taste his sweet, rich lips crushed close against his, the silky strands of his hair sweeping around his face like a lavender curtain.

The thought of his presence danced longingly in the Magi's mind until he was finally able to let himself become swathed in the blankets of sleep.

And before Judal completely let himself plunge into slumber, one last thought waltzed through his mind.

If only you were here…My idiot king…