It was the festival of Maharajan that evening, and the entire palace was buzzing with activity. Servants bustled back and forth, cooks practically vibrated off of the kitchen walls, Ja'far was turning in his living grave, and Sinbad was...well...doing the usual.
You knocked on his door loudly, before hearing a small grunt, which you took as an invitation to enter. Pushing the door open, you looked over at him and frowned. He was wrapped in his blanket in bed staring over at you with half shut eyes. Idiot king, you thought to yourself.
"You know," you said, walking over, "Ja'far will come here in about five minutes to dump a stack of papers on your desk, and when he finds out you're still sleeping with all that work to catch up on he's going to absolutely flip." You stopped by his bed and glared down at him, hands on your hips.
"You forget who has to do your work while you're off lazing about. I can't stand to sit in that study another damned moment with that workaholic, he makes me do FAR too much. And you just get to sleep while I get an earful about 'not doing work fast enough' and 'no you can't forge Sinbad's signature that's very much illegal'. You try working with him, he either blows your eardrums up or doesn't even breathe!"
Sinbad continued to stare you down. He wasn't even listening, was he?
"Are you (y/n) or Ja'far? You're just a massive blur nagging at me to work, I can't tell the difference anymore..." His eyes sparked for a second and he raised one arm out of the blanket "wait I know," he said, reaching a hand towards your chest. He knew EXACTLY what he was doing, and so did you.
"One more millimetre and I'll snap each of your fingers, one by one." You stated. He froze, and thinking better of it, put his hand down. "Right right, I'll get up now you nagging hag," he said mid stretch, before you slammed your fist down on his purple head.
"IM SORRY IM SORRY JEEZ!" He cried, clutching it. "I'll get up (y/n)," he pouted playfully. For perhaps the first time that morning you smiled and chuckled, before spinning on your heel and walking back through the door.
(Timeskip)
It was night time now, and the clear sky was illuminated with billions upon billions of shining stars. You sat by Sinbad, alone and staring up and the night sky.
You loved the smells and the sounds of festivals, but being squashed within big crowds of people wasn't really your thing. You had always enjoyed your solitude, and preferred a book and your own thoughts to a crowd and their usually unwanted opinions.
You were an ex princess, a refugee from a faraway destroyed land. It was small and unheard of, but it was beautiful. Surrounded by trees and lakes and animals, it was easy to find peace, but there was also small markets bustling with friendly strangers, eager to chat and exchange kind words.
You had grew up with your mother and father, a happy, kind, compassionate pair, who were fair on their people and ruled their small town well. You explored freely, often climbing trees and such to sit and read, and were loved by the citizens.
Unfortunately, the town was too small. It had no allies to speak of, and an army of just a few hundred barely trained men. They never would have expected the tragedy that occurred. It was easily taken over by the bandits, and those who had not been murdered were sold to slavers.
You been lucky. You had hidden away until a local had found you and pulled you to his fishing boat, urging you to take it and escape whilst he distracted the bandits. Tearfully, you did as you were told and escaped, alone and afraid. Your family and friends had all been killed or sold. A storm had swept you far away to a distant place, and after weeks you sighted shore.
Everything you had loved had disappeared within hours, including your will to survive. It was your fault, you told yourself. Your naivety and childish mind had driven everyone to death, or a life worth death anyway. If only you had been there to help, to inflict hope in the mind of the people and the soldiers. You deserved to die. Not your mother or father, not your friends or your people. You deserved this, and only you.
These were the thoughts constantly rushing through your head. It didn't even feel real, and since your hasty departure you hadn't spilled a single tear. The shock was preventing you from feeling anything apart from self hatred.
You were near to cursing your own fate, to abandon your will to live. And that was when Sinbad had found you.
He had taken a clear liking to you from the beginning. Despite your struggles and trauma, you still managed to stay feisty and sarcastic, and had greeted him with such personality traits upon your first meeting. It was the only thing left of you.
He welcomed you into Sindria with open arms, and tended to you every need for years, pulling you through your emotion trauma and teaching you to feel and trust again. In return, you helped with trivial matters like paperwork and running errands, and the bright joyfulness of Sindria and the people's love of their King had reminded you of home.
It had taken a while for you to trust him and his strange ways, and you had to admit you were very reluctant for the first few months of living there.
Now, you were doing well, and although you missed your home and everything you had lost with it dearly, you had found a new home, and new things to hold dear, like the generals, the people, and the King, Sinbad.
He was a lazy, drunken womaniser, but you knew that he was a good person. He had proved it to you countless times, and always seemed to know what to do and say in your times of need, and also knew when to stay quiet. He looked at you like you were a treasure, and you often caught him staring at you.
Not that you disliked it.
You helped Sinbad emotionally too. When he was stressed, you would wordlessly enter his chambers and undo his hair then lay it out behind him, like an indigo sea. You'd brush through it hundreds of times while he sat quietly, thinking to himself. It was moments like these he treasured, where he could pretend he had no weighty decisions to make, to pretend that his country wasn't on the verge of war and that he was an ordinary man. It was his only true peace.
"(Y/n)?" Sinbad spoke softly, looking over at you. You realised you had been silent for some time now, and noticed that while you had been reminiscing of the past, you had gotten tearful. A tear had rolled down your cheek as you had stared up, and hastily you wiped it away. "S-sorry" you sniffed, looking away. You mentally slapped yourself with embarrassment, and you felt pink rise to your cheeks, taunting your (s/c) skin.
"It's been so long now, I guess I must look pretty stupid, getting wound up in the past so much." You said, smiling to yourself.
Your (h/c) hair rustled in the cool breeze. You looked over at Sinbad, who had raised his eyebrows at you. He gently cupped the side of your cheek and smiled, before gently stroking your (h/c) locks. "Don't say that. You'll never look stupid in my eyes. You never have, and you never will. From the moment I met you, until the moment I die. You've been through so much, and look at you. Still holding on. You're the bravest warrior I know." He smiled, before rising to his feet.
He looked down at his kingdom below him with love in his eyes, and looked over at you with that same love, burning even brighter. You stared up at his mesmerising face, and drank it all in. You loved the way the jewellery on his body clinked slightly whenever he moved, and the way his brow furrowed whenever he was confused. Most of all, you loved him. You rose to meet his gaze gladly, and as the two of you kissed under the star's light, the unseen ruhk fluttered around you happily, contented.
A/N: okay that was pure shit because I'm tired and hungry and feel weird about writing romantic things, but if you want leave a request and I'll gladly do it whenever I have time (and trust me, I have plenty of that).
