Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kalim didn't know how or why or even when it started happening, but sometimes the world around him felt off to him in a way that he couldn't really explain, as if he wasn't really used to his surroundings. Or like he was expecting the things around him to be a bit different than how they really were.

Which was weird. 

After all, he had been living in the Scalding Sands since the moment he was born; he should be used to it. And he was. The scorching temperature of the day never bothered him, nor did the coldness of the night air that slipped past the windows every so often. He could handle his spice just fine, and when allowed to wander through the palace or the market streets, he never got lost even when separated from his family.

However, there were times that he found it really, really easy to just… drift into the crowds around the marketplace and blend in with the people that were haggling over prices with the many vendors all around the markets, smoothly slipping past the caravans and cluttered stalls like grains of sand did through the gaps between one’s fingers. No matter the number of people that were in his way or between him and his destination, he could still find his way through the streets without much problem. Crossing through them without any difficulty.

When it happened the first time and his family found him afterwards, or well, he let himself be found after hearing the panicked calls of his name from across the packed sandy roads, his parents scolded him for scaring them and made him promise to never do that again. They told him to stick by their side while his attendant, a young girl far older than he was but much younger than either of his parents, apologized profusely for losing sight of him. 

The girl had been following right behind him before the crowds of people had separated them along the way, but it hadn't been her fault that the jewelry at the corner of the market had caught Kalim's eyes. He had wanted to get it for his mom since her birthday was coming soon! The last time they went to a bazaar that was held near their home palace, he had helped his mother get the vendor to lower the price of his produce by half, so he thought he could probably get that pretty, shiny bracelet for her as a gift, and possibly cheaper too!

That was the first time he watched someone get punished for his own mistakes.

It wasn't anything too harsh or demanding. Just a few days of work in the kitchen, and her not being allowed to tend to him anymore for the rest of the week, especially if they were to go outside of the palace during that time.

Yet Kalim didn't know why the sight of her being punished in his stead filled him with so much guilt and shame.

It was as if he could see himself being on the other end, both the punisher and the punished, when he was neither of them, and this being the first he had ever seen this happen in front of him. He didn't much like it. And since then, whenever he found himself slipping into the crowds again, he made sure to always stay within sight of his family. Made sure to slow down his steps the slightest bit so that any of the attendants that were following him would be able to do so.

Other times though, the off feelings were more tamed, more centered around his preference than anything.

One day the sheets of his bed would feel too soft on his skin, but on a different day the texture would feel too coarse and harsh, despite the bedsheets being the same. Other days the sprawling streets and bustle of people outside the palace seemed like they were calling to him, and he had a sudden urge to go outside. To explore the world outside of his home. And yet, the following day, he would feel like holing himself up inside the walls of his home instead. As if there were some kind of responsibilities and duties that he had to do, had to finish, before he could finally enjoy his day and let himself relax.

It was confusing. It still was.

No matter how long he had been experiencing them and had pretty much grown up alongside those off feelings, their dichotomy and contrasts made his head spin more often than not. 

But he tried to take them in stride, like everything he did in his life. Kept a smile on his face and did his best not to worry his family or hint that something was wrong—that something was wrong with him—and tried what he could to lessen the burdens of those who attended and took care of his family.

He brushed off the attempt made on his life by one of his relatives when the odd tang settled on his taste buds, poison, poison, poison, and he puked out all the meals he had eaten that day and had a fever for the rest of the week. Laughed off the attempt of kidnapping that another relative of his made—maybe for ransom, maybe for his son to be named heir of the family, he didn't know, and he didn't get the chance to ask either—as he got himself out of his captor's grip and sped through the alleyways back to his home, acting like he had never even left. 

(His father likely knew something had happened because Kalim missed dinner on that particular day. Which he never did, especially not when all his favorite siblings and parents were all in the same room together having a shared meal, rare as it usually was. And his intuition was proven right when, not even a day later, his father confronted him about it the morning after. Kalim, seeing no reason to hide the incident, told him all he knew about it, including the bits he found out from his kidnapper's speech.)

(The very next day, the security around the palace went up and became even tighter than before.)

(Though he knew it wouldn't do much good to keep him safe, even with all the safety measures that his family could afford. After all, the attempts on his life weren't made entirely by people from outside the palace, many of them coming from within the family itself. And there's only so much you could guard against when the storms were almost always close by your heels.)

All the while, he tried to hold back the whine that bubbled inside his throat and wanted to slip past his lips when the palace just felt wrong, wrong, wrong. The yellow paint shouldn't be on that wall, the flower vase should be there by the hallway of the main entrance, the location of his room shouldn't be in this section of the palace. This shouldn't even be his room. His room shouldn't be in this building.

But it was. It was always here. He had always lived here. 

And not the streets.

Kalim had never once lived there. No matter how familiar they were to him—the crowds, the drapes, the noises, the alleys—he had never been outside of his home palace for long periods of time. Not in the way that would matter. Only for the occasional errand that his parents let him come with, here and there.

(He shouldn't be used to it. Shouldn't found it so incredibly easy and freeing being outside of the palace. But he was. He was. It had been easy the first time, and it continued to be as simple as breathing to navigate the maze-like alleyways and winding roads like he had always been there. And never left.)

(Like he had never lived somewhere else other than the streets.)

Things began to change when he met Jamil.

When the polite yet grumpy boy who was around the same age as him had been introduced as his new servant.

(For your safety, his father told him when he had asked him why, there had been too many incidents in only a year.)

(And maybe Kalim should have objected, should have refused. Because if the boy was here for Kalim's safety, then what about his own?)

(What about Jamil's safety?)

It was when he met the charcoal gray eyes of the boy across from him that the off-ness of everything in his life began to make sense. The unknown feelings were suddenly known to him. Not the reason why he even had them in the first place, but why he felt strange in a place that he should feel he belonged to. 

Because it was then… Only then did he finally remember his past. No, pasts.

He remembered both of them.

Once, he had been a ruler who ruled over his people with kindness yet rigid traditions. Having a heavy crown that he could not quite set aside and a palace that overshadowed any sense of freedom with duty. Everything and anything for his people and his family.

A street rat, a thief, but still trusted by the royal family. An adventure with a lamp and a tumble down a deep cave isolated from the outside world. Three wishes to be granted with barely any restrictions and a desire too big that it never left his lips in the end. 

The images of both lifetimes flashed through his head, settling into place inside his mind, piece by piece.

The stories they brought were the slightest bit different from the tales that he had grown up hearing about, from both his parents and the people living in the Scalding Sands. Of the princess and the pauper, who deceived the princess of the royal family and was thrown out of the kingdom. But had also shown her the truth and the world and let her make her own choice, even if it’s not what he hoped for. Only to be surprised when it was. Of the Sorcerers of the Sands and the wise Sultan that once governed their land, a sultan who prided himself on being a good judge of character, only to be struck down by his most trusted advisor, his royal vizier.

They were strange and didn’t fit with what he knew of the world, of their world. And yet, he had the oddest feeling that they were real. That those visions weren’t simply his imaginations or hallucinations. Not like those born from heat strokes under the burning glare of the sun, during long summer days with no rain. They were memories of them and their lives, memories that were now his.

His to live with, and his to remember.  

When he caught the confused frown on the boy's face at his silence, Kalim tucked his revelations to the back of his mind and plastered a grin on his face, concealing all the confusion, the heartbreak, the bewilderment that swirled within him. He opened the door of his bedroom wider to welcome him inside his room before dragging both him and his little sister into playing with him, letting the sound of their parents' amused laughter settle on his back and reorienting him back into the present.

He could do this. 

It was not much different from how things were before. Just that now he finally understood why he felt drawn towards the markets. Why the insides of the palace often felt wrong to him. As if the furniture and rooms and plants and colors were all altered into something different from what he was familiar with.

Now he knew, though.

Everything was fine.

No, that was a lie. 

He wanted it to be the truth, really hoped that it would be one. Maybe not anytime soon, but maybe one day. One day. But it wasn't. It really wasn't. Everything was not fine. Not with what he now remembered from the memories.

When he looked at Jamil, all he could think of was how Kalim had trusted someone like him in both of his lifetimes. Had trusted someone else to protect him and covered his unprotected side. Only to be backstabbed in both, by the same person.

And Jamil… 

…he reminded him too much of him.

The way disdain would flash in his expression during random times when Jamil probably thought he wasn't looking. The wrinkle in his brows when Kalim was being more cheery than usual in an attempt to lighten up the mood and break the tension that hung over them. The calculating gleam sparking in his eyes when he was deep in his thoughts.

Not to mention, his Unique Magic was…

He didn't know what happened the first few times it occurred. Only the vague memories of losing control of his body, of watching things happen through a one-way looking glass, and a desperate need to warn others of a potential danger. When he next blinked, he found himself in a place different than the one he had been in just a second ago, with no memories of how he got there at all.

He had seen what he did. That snake staff of his that had the power to control others by just a look into its gleaming ruby eyes. He snatched the thing from the man’s hands and snapped it into pieces, hopefully never to be used ever again.

Kalim found himself subconsciously wary of him, of being anywhere around him. He tried not to because Jamil was not him. Jamil was Jamil. No matter how similar the two acted and behaved, no matter how their images overlapped more often than not for his comfort, he was still his own person. 

He was also supposed to be near him anyway since Jamil was his servant. One that his father appointed to him for his own protection.

Despite that, he couldn't help the flinch that came over him the first time Jamil did Snake Whisper right in front of him, even though the magic hadn't been directed his way at all. The memory of being under the effect of something similar too strong for him to stop his body reaction, nor the way his heart began to race inside his chest, chills going down his spine as cold as the water that his parents took him swimming in once.

Kalim knew from the way Jamil was suddenly frowning at him, a look of hurt flashing through his gaze that disappeared as quick as it had come, that he had caught his reaction to his show of magic.

He didn't mean to, really.

But ever since then, he never caught Jamil using his Unique Magic again. As if the boy was refraining from using it anywhere near his vicinity. Kalim knew he should feel bad about it—after all, someone's Unique Magic was something that was important to them, right?—but all he felt was relieved. He felt bad for feeling that, but he couldn't really help it. Not with the memories of losing control of his own body and doing things that he didn't want to, forced to do things that he didn't wish to ever do.

It made him wonder though, if this time, like in that other lifetime of his, he would lose his new friend like he did his long-time friend.

Kalim really didn't want that. Even though Jamil reminded him too much of his once vizier, he was nice when he wasn't being grumpy, like him, helped him out when he needed some assistance, like him, and he played with him when he had nothing to do inside the palace, willingly going along with his whims at times although obviously exasperated by them, just like him.

At the end, he used his third and final wish to free a lonely genie stuck inside a lamp. He had promised him he would, and he wished him to be free, to gain the freedom that he longed so much for. The freedom that had always eluded him in his isolation due to his curse. 

No matter what he did though, it felt like nothing he did was working to mend the tension between them. That everything seemed like it was going as it had in his past memories, and he was just a witness to the ongoing catastrophe that would still happen the same way it had before.

Kalim tried to involve Jamil more, treating him as a friend, an equal, rather than the servant that his father ordered him to be, not an advisor, he's not his vizier, he was not him, he was not. When he tried his hand at cooking their meals after the latest poisoning incident they had, Kalim made sure to praise him and thank him for the meals—he had never seen him that vulnerable, he could've died, he could've died from tasting his food, it was his fault, his fault, his fault.

And yet, the resentment that Jamil tried to hide behind his gaze never seemed to cease from existence. If anything, he seemed to grow more and more frustrated over time. 

Kalim… didn't know what to do. What he should even do about this.

Jamil hid it well. He knew if he were to question others about it, they wouldn't notice his frustration and disdain of his position at all. Of how much he hated having to defer to him and lower himself for his family. Of having to be his servant when he could be something more. Which Kalim was certain that he could be, because Jamil was nothing short of talented, more talented than he was if he would just let himself be. 

(Jamil used to win every game they ever played together. Board games, outdoor games, even studies and lessons in magic. He used to be the best out of the two of them in all the things that they did… what happened to that?)

It rankled him, the way he just knew that their family—maybe his, maybe Jamil's, or perhaps a combination of both—might have something to do with the change of their dynamics. The dynamics that their families, their society, likely expected them to have. A young master and his servant. 

The situation frustrated him, the way Jamil kept letting himself lose, when he could simply win. Even when he made mistakes in any of their games, Jamil just let himself step into the hole and made him win instead, as if he hadn't noticed the obvious quicksand that the move had been.

It was infuriating, and he didn't like it at all.

As the ruler of the kingdom, he had been blind to the despair of his people and the poverty that hung around them, surrounded as he was with extravagant things in his palace. He strove to do better by them.

The streets had always been his home for all his life. He stole food to survive and pickpocketed at times, but he could never turn a blind eye to those less fortunate. Those who longed for freedom out of their personal cage, like he himself did.

Sometimes, Jamil would have this soft look in his eyes and a fond twitch to his lips that brought him hope that perhaps this time things might be alright after all. He would scold him for being reckless and fuss over him until he's satisfied that he was really fine. Jamil would chuckle at his silly jokes and smile as they played board games together, winning their games more often than not. 

(He couldn't stop the grin from climbing up his face when he finally lost more than one round in a row after so long of Jamil always calculating their scores and making sure Kalim won more than himself, always. His excitement over the change likely showed clearly on his face. But he could care less about it, even with the weird look that Jamil had thrown at him for it, because finally, finally.)

Kalim knew he should feel disheartened by his continued losses. Based on how their dynamics were supposed to be, he probably should be—some of his siblings threw tantrums when things didn't go in their favor, didn't they?—but honestly, why should he? They were finally playing, after all, instead of the mirage of a game they had been doing these past few weeks.

(And if they kept these moments between themselves and never uttered their scores to anyone else. If Jamil began to switch up the way he played depending on their surroundings and the people around them, then that's just for them to know. Kalim simply took note of it and followed suit, playing like he usually did. Because to him, nothing had changed. Nothing was amiss. It had simply returned to how it was before.)

Other times though, Jamil would have a familiar cold glint in his eyes that chilled him to the bones. A look that was incredibly similar to a certain vizier of his that made him wonder if he wasn't the only one with these fragmented memories floating inside his head. 

If, like him, Jamil was also…

But there had never been that flicker of recognition in his eyes that Kalim was looking for. Nothing to indicate that he had any memories of other people of the past, like he had. 

Kalim didn't really wish for him to. Especially if the memories he got were related to someone like his once vizier. And yet, despite his wariness, he found himself somewhat… disappointed. That he seemed to be the only one to have these strange memories of other lives and off feelings that hung over him ever since he could remember, for reasons that he didn't know of.

The only person to experience this type of anomaly.

That was okay, though. He had always lived with them, after all.

It wasn't like he wished to condemn others to the confusion that was navigating the present and the memories. It was difficult sometimes not to mix them up, particularly when interacting with those who reminded him of the people he never actually met in this life. People that he shouldn't feel familiar with the way he did, when they weren't even that well-acquainted with each other.

It was alright.

Even if he was the only one who remembered.

(But Kalim couldn’t help the want that fluttered inside his chest at the thought of someone else. Even a possible enemy of his. Because… because…)

(…it was much too lonely. Being like this on his own.)

(And he never did like being alone.)

One day, on a stormless night with clear skies, Jamil finally received his letter of invitation to attend the Night Raven College. A prestigious school of magics that only accept students with great potential, ones who were selectively and specially chosen by the Dark Mirror itself. 

He was happy for him, he really was. At the same time though, he couldn't help but feel a bit sad about it all. It had been Kalim’s own decision not to apply for the same school as Jamil too, but still… They had practically grown up together, always by each other's side and never straying too far away from each other, and to be separated like this was kind of...

Kalim pursed his lips as he stared down at the letter within his grasp that had arrived just this morning, a couple of months after Jamil had left the palace. The glossy paper wrinkled slightly between his fingers as he read and re-read the content written on it, unsure on how to feel about the unexpected situation that he found himself in.

When he asked the principal the day that he arrived at the school, Principal Crowley had brushed the matter off as unimportant and told him not to think too much about it. And yet, the way the principal kept on trying to steer the topic away and changed the subject had been incredibly suspicious.

Not that it hadn't been suspicious from the very moment the letter had arrived in his hands. After all, he hadn't even sent any application to the school, so how could he be accepted there? 

It didn't make any sense. 

As he stood across the Dark Mirror and waited for its decision on his placement, his gaze snapped towards the side as the door swung open with an audible bang that rattled its hinges slightly. Kalim winced at the sight of his friend, feeling dread building in his gut at the narrowed gaze being directed at him from across the lobby, just as his dorm was announced. 

Scarabia. 

The same dorm as him. The dorm that Jamil was sorted into as well. Kalim was happy to get to spend time with his friend again, but Jamil wasn't… he didn't… 

Jamil looked like he had been slapped. As if all his hopes and dreams had just evaporated right in front of his eyes. And Kalim couldn't handle it. Couldn't handle seeing that heartbroken look on his face. 

He averted his eyes as he swallowed down the knot in his throat, hoping he hadn't just ruined everything between them with his presence at the school. He shouldn't have come. He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't truly invited, so why didn't he refuse it? 

Why didn't he?

He cared about them and their well-being, cared about them as if they were his own children. Yet he was also blind to their sufferings, blind to their wishes to live better than what he had offered them.

Principal Crowley tried to convince him to accept the Housewarden position at the end of their first year, citing that he fit the requirements for it and since the role was going to be opened due to the current Scarabia Housewarden's impending graduation, wouldn't he like to give it a try? He was being such a generous principal, wasn't he?

Kalim just stared at him. 

Then he rubbed the back of his neck as he chuckled nervously at the offer before politely refusing it with a smile, offering up Jamil's name instead as an alternative. The principal's eyes widened behind his mask at his answer, looking as if he had expected a different outcome from their meeting. 

Maybe it would have been.

If he hadn't been haunted by the dichotomy of his memories from as far back as he could remember, it might have. If he hadn't known how it felt to be betrayed by those close to you, those you trust to always keep you safe, and had experienced the weight of the crown on his shoulders. The expectations that came alongside it.

Maybe it would have been different.

The promise of the throne was too much for him. The offer had been sweet and tempting at the beginning; eventually, though, he realized something. He was born a street rat, never really a prince. He could lead, but he wasn't truly made for such a position. And in that role, mistakes cost not only him but many others as well.

Looking back at those furious charcoal gray eyes from across the cafeteria table—why was he even mad? He didn't get it!—as Jamil confronted him on accepting the position, he wondered what it was that he did wrong. Again.

He thought Jamil would be happy with his decision. To be given the chance to step out of his shadow and forge his own path, like he seemed to want when he left the Scalding Sands to attend the school. He was trying to give him as much freedom as he could in spite of their complicated family situation, so why…?

The two of them ended up arguing over it the rest of the semester.

It was the first time they had such intense arguments with each other, neither of them wanting to take the offer for themselves even though the other told them to do so. Principal Crowley, clearly exasperated by their never-ending back-and-forth, simply told them to let him know once they finally decided on who would fill the role of Housewarden before brushing the matter off to them and left.

Then, summer finally came upon them, and they left to go back home. 

The moment he stepped inside the palace of his home, Kalim cheerfully greeted his parents and any of his siblings that he encountered on his way, patiently indulging his younger siblings as they chatted his ears off about missing him while he was at the school. Jamil followed a step behind him as they passed through the hallways before splitting up to meet his own family.

When he caught sight of Najma running up to her older brother from the other end of the corridor, Kalim gave her a grin and a wave, receiving one from the girl herself as she greeted him back with a smile. At her side, Jamil simply shook his head at their antics, looking exasperated by them already.

When they finally retired to his room for the night a few days after their arrival back home to the palace, Jamil had an odd expression on his face—a weird mix of confusion and resolve that didn't really make sense to him—as he laid out his sleeping wear on the top of his bed and waited for Kalim to finish changing his attire for the night.

Before he went to turn the lights off and left him alone in his room though, Jamil glanced back at him, regarding him with a conflicted look on his face.

“Why did you tell Principal Crowley to choose me as the Scarabia Housewarden?“ Jamil asked, crossing his arms over his chest with a frown. “You're the Asim heir, everyone expects you to lead. You should've taken it.“

“You would make a better Housewarden than me,“ Kalim retorted, insisting with a shake of his head. How many more arguments of this would they have to go through before his friend would just take it from his hands? “I don't think I'll be a good Housewarden anyway.“

He might, he probably might. Kalim knew he could lead just fine. Even had the experience of being in a role of leadership for two lifetimes himself at this point. 

In truth, he was just… tired of it.

Tired of having to lead, tired of being expected to care for every single one of his people and none for himself. Kalim was still expected to handle his family's inheritance as the heir, of course, but it wasn't entirely necessary for him to be the leader now while he was still at the school.

So he wouldn't. Not as long as he didn't have to. And it wasn’t like he particularly wanted the position anyway.

Jamil frowned, a hint of disapproval in his gaze. “So you just want to shrink on your responsibilities?“

“No, that's not-!“ Kalim objected, feeling the frustration that was bubbling up inside him and wanting to tear his hair out. He couldn't seem to communicate with his friend without things tilting the wrong way. Why couldn't he understand what he meant? What he was trying to do? “It’s just that Jamil's smarter, and everyone in our dorm already respects you and your work. You're much better suited for it!“

Jamil opened his mouth as if to argue back like they had been doing these past few days, ever since the principal dropped the news to them. But then, he suddenly paused, looking as if he was considering something.

When their eyes met again, Jamil's stare on him was a degree more intense than before. And Kalim found himself fidgeting with his fingers underneath his covers, feeling strangely overcome with nervousness. 

(It was that calculating look again. That familiar gleam in his eyes. The kind that made goosebumps run up his spine when directed right at him.)

Could he really trust him not to betray him like his former royal vizier did? Could he really?

He shouldn't. He knew the smart thing would be to avoid him, the one who reminded him so much of his once advisor, but he had never been the kind of person who condemned others for things they had never done, things that they had not even done yet.

“Alright. If you won't take the Housewarden position, then I suppose I could,” Jamil eventually relented with a put-upon sigh before continuing, “But on one condition. Only if you agreed to be my vice.“ 

What?

The arguments against it were already there on his tongue. But before he could let any of them out, Jamil stopped him in his tracks. 

“People trust you in ways they might not trust me. I'll need you to handle things that I can't.“

Jamil didn't look all that happy to have those words out of his mouth, but he didn't seem as opposed to the idea either despite the small grimace he had on his face. More conflicted than entirely displeased.

Kalim mulled the idea over in his head as he chewed on his lip. A supportive role, instead of the actual leader, huh? That… might not be too bad. He had never been in such a position though, so he wasn't entirely sure if he would do well in it or make everything worse instead. But still, this would provide him with a way to lessen some pressure off of his friend, if he actually agreed to take the position, so maybe...

“…Okay, I'll do it.“

And if he was agreeing to this, he might as well try to make sure Scarabia became a place where everyone would be able to feel comfortable and supported. 

Not just for the students within it, but for the two of them too. 

He would try to make it a place where they could finally be free. An oasis away from their family's expectations and complicated hierarchy, where they could just be them before being the Asim heir and his personal servant. Just Kalim and Jamil.

The corner of Jamil's mouth twitched as he shook his head. “Not too many parties, though.“

Kalim grinned. “No promises!“

But he would try not to burden him too much. Heads-up before any sudden parties were good enough, right? 

It's for the dorm's morale, he swore!

Chapter Text

The strange vivid images—the ones that he now knew to be memories of lives once lived—had only begun to solidify themselves in Jamil's mind quite recently. 

They hadn't always been there, nor had they even existed until the time he arrived back home for the summer holiday that school year. But he had eventually gotten used to them appearing at random times now, seemingly out of nowhere. 

Despite that, though, the flashes of burning emotions and strangely familiar feelings were something he had grown up alongside with. Something he had gotten used to. Ever since he laid his eyes on his new master, the little rich pampered kid of the Asim family. 

The overwhelming resentment of having to be something he was not, he must never do better than the young master, he must let him win twice and lose three times never less, that's what mother and father told him to do, the annoyance at the carefree, oblivious way his master held himself, as if the world outside of his sphere didn't matter, that the cruelty of reality wouldn't touch him. Despite all the attempts on his life made by his own relatives of all people. 

The boy was kind and good-hearted; that much was obvious. Always with a smile on his face and trailing cheers and laughter wherever he went. He had a charm to him, and everyone clearly loved him, willingly indulging all of his whims and wishes, no matter how outrageous they were. 

Jamil hated him.

How could he not? He was his master, and Jamil was his servant, and that's all that was to their lives. He would always be a servant, simply because he was born in a family that had served the Asim family from generation to generation. And he hated it. Couldn't stand the sight of it. Hated how content his family was, even his sister, to bowing down to the wealthy merchant family. Disliked having to kneel down and obey all of their whims, whether he liked to or not, because he had no choice over the matter. 

As far as masters went, though, Jamil had to admit, even if it was only to himself, that his young master wasn't… too bad. He could've been a servant of other, much crueler masters after all, like one of those cousins of Kalim who looked at him as if he was just a speck of dirt under his shoes whenever he saw him.

But instead, Jamil got him as his master. 

He got Kalim.

His irritating and weird young master, who praised him for every little thing under the sun, as if he wasn't entitled to getting everything that he wanted simply due to his inheritance and family's influence. Even his cooking, ones that his sister teased him often due to their lack in presentation—but what was he supposed to do? Let his master starve? He wouldn't eat anything that wasn't something he made after that incident!—wasn’t exempted from the praise. His master thanked him often for his assistance, even when he was just trying to make sure his master had everything handled before any parties that his family loved to hold every so often.

Failing on his duty would reflect badly on the Asim family, and his family might receive the brunt for it if he were to fail. 

He wouldn't.

When they began to practice their magic, it became more than obvious to him that his master was uncomfortable with his Unique Magic, of the power behind his Snake Whisper. Of the potential brimming within the palm of his hand and the minds that he could easily take control of for himself, with only a sentence and a moment of eye contact.

(Terrified, his brain supplied to him as his mind flashed back to the sight of his young master recoiling away from him, he's frightened of you.)

And yet, his master didn't run. Hadn't demanded for him to never use it again or get him punished for it.

Kalim had only stood there across the courtyard in silence, a certain quietness hanging over his frame that was unusual to see him with. His expression had flashed grim for a split second before settling on one that was utterly blank and unreadable—a look that Jamil had never seen him wear, not once, not like those bright smiles of his that was ever-present on his face—and his hands were clenched tightly by his side, looking for all the world frozen. As if he wished to run, to get away, to leave, but was trying to get himself not to.

(Because it's illogical, the thought passed through his mind suddenly, ears ringing as he tried to make sense of the situation, it wasn't being used on him, after all.)

The friendly servant who had volunteered for their magic practice glanced between them in confused concern, clearly catching the tension that was hanging in the air around them, the effect of his Snake Whisper having long faded from the other's mind. 

Kalim seemed to have noticed the worried gaze that was on them too, because then, barely a beat later, a grin bloomed on his face. Warm and radiant like the sun after a particularly gloomy night. A familiar sight that effortlessly drew smiles from the people all across the Scalding Sands, even its visitors from beyond the land. Drawn in by his presence, like the moon was to the sun.

A dazzling kind of brightness that made people want to avert their eyes, completely overwhelmed by its sheer brightness.

It was then that a sudden thought struck him. One that he never thought he would ever associate with his master at all. His bleeding-heart and cheerful young master of the Asim family. Because it was ridiculous. After all, how could that be when their positions in life were so antithetical to each other? 

And yet…

As he watched Kalim reassure the boy who was their practice victim and thank him for his assistance in their magic practice, Jamil couldn't help but think that, when it came to dealing with their problems in life, perhaps they were more similar than he had initially believed them to be. 

Because what else could it be… but a facade? A front?

The change had been too quick. Too smooth, too practiced for it not to be the case. Jamil's own was one of servitude, of loyalty to a family that he didn't care as much as his family did. One that he took on because although he might not care for the wealthy family as much as he should, as everyone expected him to be, he did care for his family. He loved them, even if their attitude and contentedness at being employed to the Asim family irritated him frequently.

His master's, on the other hand, seemed to be the opposite. Happy, easygoing, and, more often than not, oblivious to a fault seemed to be his way of playing the long game. And with it, he had managed to fool them, fool Jamil, fool everyone. Because none of them expected it from him—expected him not to be like that.

(In the end, it was all the same though, because it was still a lie. Maybe not everything had been, and not all of them were, but many of them probably were. Just like his own was.)

Unlike his visceral reaction to his Snake Whisper though, Kalim didn't seem to mind when Jamil mastered things earlier than him. Or even when he was even asked to teach and tutor him in the areas of both magic and academics. And over time they gradually found themselves settling on a new routine that worked for them. 

But it was also due to that… that he slipped up.

(He should've been more careful. He had let the calm atmosphere between them influence him; he was usually more cautious than that. Father would not be pleased if he found out about this. Oh no, what if Lord Asim found out about th-)

Jamil didn't know where he plucked the courage to do something as risky as testing the waters—it hadn't gone well the last time he did this, nor when his parents found out about it, so why was he doing this again?—but he won the next game, and the next one, and the one after that too.

And then he caught himself and stopped, freezing in his seat.

He held his breath as he stole a glance at his master, waiting for the inevitable tantrum and anger that would appear, like he had seen the other young masters and mistresses do when they didn't get their way. Or even the annoying repeat of again, again requests that Kalim used to do when they were younger—before his parents stopped it altogether and lectured him for winning too much when he shouldn't have.

However… there was none.

No tantrum. No furious shouts of him cheating at the game. No whining to get him punished for overstepping his boundaries. No asking for another round just so that he could win more, like before.

There was none of them.

Instead, he was met with a grin—one that was a tad different from his usual smile. More gleeful and a touch pleased, yet somehow fit him a lot better than his ever-present smile. One that he found himself wanting to see more often than the other—and…

“Jamil's too good at this game, ahaha!  You might have to teach me how to play, and then I won't always lose against my younger siblings!“

“Jamil's always so dependable! Of course, I trust him!“

“Why would I want to replace him? Jamil's the best! He's my friend, why would I?“

Friend. 

Kalim called him that often. 

To him, Jamil wasn't just his servant and he wasn't just his master. And in the face of that, Jamil found it… difficult to truly be mad at him, to not be the slightest bit endeared. Even when he knew that he was the symbol of the unfair hierarchy that they were living in, a system that he hated with every fiber of his being ever since he learned about it.

Because to Kalim, that's what they were. Friends. Just them, before everything that their titles were.

And it wasn’t like it was easy to ignore that when Kalim would have that frown on his face every time he caught any of his relatives glancing their way, looking at Jamil with eyes full of disdain. When Kalim would grab his hand and dragg him away from their gaze, chattering his ears off all the while about one thing or another as they left the room behind them. When Jamil had to let insults slide off his back and bite his lip to stop any comebacks from slipping through when any of the visiting families talked down on him, only to find out later on that those same families had lost the favor of the Asim family and the deal that they were trying to make.

When Kalim looked so genuinely happy for his every achievement, even his acceptance to the Night Raven College where he would be attending without him.

But whatever their feelings were with each other, it was still the reality that they were bound by their birth and societal expectations. 

As such, when he received that invitation letter and left to pursue his study at Night Raven College, Jamil had been ecstatic. Now he wouldn't have to hold back anymore; he wouldn't have to be the servant anymore. He could just be him and do whatever he wanted. He could almost taste it, the freedom, even before he stepped into the black carriage that would bring him to his new school.

It had been wonderful being at the school.

It had been. It was. However, that moment, that happiness, that delicious freedom… had only lasted for two whole months. Because then, suddenly, Kalim was also there at the school. Standing in front of the Mirror of Darkness and being accepted into the same dorm as him. 

And Jamil couldn't help but feel… disappointed by it all. 

His one chance at freedom, and now it had been ruined. Scattered into pieces and blown away by the wind before it could even properly begin. He was back to being the servant again. Now not only at home, but at the school too. The situation frustrated him, and it wasn't helped either by the fact that his young master. Just. Wouldn't. Accept. The Housewarden position! It was being offered to him on a silver platter, why wouldn't he take it!

And now, he offered Jamil instead for the position instead of accepting it himself? His young master was just too frustrating! He should be the one who stood at the front and led them, not someone who was his servant. He was expected to be the leader, to be the one everyone looked up to, not him, not Jamil!

But despite all his attempts to change his mind over the matter, Kalim wouldn't budge on his stance, being absolutely stubborn on not taking the position being offered to him.

And then they had to go back home for the summer, their arguments still unfinished. The very first full-blown argument they had ever had with each other. 

He ranted about it to his sister on their way to their section of the palace, being careful to not raise his voice too loud as to not get caught by the other servants fluttering around the place. And his sister had the nerve to look amused by his plight, instead of commiserating with him over how frustrating their young master was.

(“Maybe you should let him?“

“…What?“

“Young Master Kalim obviously adores you, and he seems to trust that you'd be the better choice here. You always want to be acknowledged, don't you, brother? You talked about how Master Kalim kept refusing the position, but why aren't you accepting it when he's clearly letting you? What's stopping you?“

“…” )

His sister was right, though. This was his chance, the opportunity that he wanted so much, so why was he reluctant to take it? 

It was around then, that the memories hit him like the stomp of an elephant.

He was once a vizier, advisor to the leader of the kingdom, trusted by the royal family and trusted by the people. Yet despite his authority, he still wished for more. More power. More authority. More of everything. And all of it began with the tales of a magic lamp.

As far back as he could remember, he had always been stuck inside the lamp. New masters, new wishes. All just to fulfill his master’s wishes, never his own. Until one day, he stumbled upon the boy, his newest master, and felt the taste of freedom for the first time in his life. 

The visions haunted him throughout the next few days, the flashes of them becoming more and more vivid as time went on, as they started merging with his own memories. Now they were not only impressions and feelings that he knew not where they came from, or the confusion of why he was feeling strongly over something he shouldn't. That his family didn't think was much of a problem to ruminate on.

Now he knew what they were, and where they originated from. 

And he… wasn't entirely pleased about it.

Because they simply showed that, despite all his efforts—now and in the memories of past lives—he was still where he never wished himself to be. Born to serve another, when all he wanted was to be free. To be acknowledge for himself. To not bow down to others, especially to those he didn't wish to serve under.

But Kalim was giving him the opportunity to step away from it, wasn't he? He was letting him take leadership over their dorm, despite being the one given the position by the principal, was he not?

Kalim trusted him.

And Jamil found himself… afraid of ruining that trust, scared of what he would do once he actually obtained the power he craved so much for.

(The fear in Kalim's eyes back in that courtyard flashed through his mind, haunting him with its image. Because despite everything, despite his obvious hesitance with being around him, he still stayed.)

(Kalim didn't tell him to leave.) 

The wishes he could give had only a few limitations, barely there depending on his masters' desire. No bringing people back to life. No forcing people to love you against their free will. And, no wishing for more wishes. Other than those, he was bound to grant their wishes, however his own feelings were about the matter.

So, one night , just before they retired for the day, he asked instead. If he were to take the position like he asked him to, would Kalim consider being his vice then?

(This time there wouldn't be any betrayal on his side, no trying to usurp him to snatch his leadership role from under his feet. Kalim didn't deserve that. He wasn't like other masters. He was… tolerable, and Jamil wouldn't change it for anything.)

When Kalim agreed to take on the role, he couldn't help the chuckle that slipped past his lips. Because from the look on his face when he accepted his offer, it was obvious he was already considering how to make it easier for everyone involved—like he tried to do for the people inside and outside of the palace. It was just like Kalim to think of others even before he even officially had the role, and he thought he wouldn't do well as a leader?

Perhaps he might be able to gain his freedom, after all. 

Even in this life. 

It wouldn't be as easy as before, not that before had been easy either; no master had wanted their wish slave to be free, to not be able to just ask and they shall receive, but maybe… just maybe… 

This life might not be as intolerable as he had initially thought it would be.

Just before he left the room, Jamil threw his last piece over his shoulder, keeping his tone casual. “And drop the act, Kalim. There's no need to keep it while at the school anymore, don't you think?“

Especially after the whole fiasco that was their full-blown arguments all throughout the school semester. He was pretty sure even the students who hadn't been there to see them had already caught wind of it from the others. In either case, with their planned leadership of their dorm, there was no reason to do so anymore anyway. At least not while they were at school. Not with the way their positions were going to be flipped from their expected ones.

Kalim went still from where he was sitting on his bed, blankets thrown over his legs and covering it from the chill of the night. When Jamil turned back to meet his gaze, there was a shift behind the garnet red eyes that stared back at him from across the room. A look that was much older, more tired, and aged in a way that shouldn't be. Of resignation over an expected situation that was never wished to have occurred, or even be confronted with.

A blink. And it disappeared just as soon as it had come. 

The intensity of the stare, however, didn't change. Nor did the exhaustion that lined the edges of his body as if he had given up on hiding it. 

To Kalim's credit, he didn't try to deny the accusation. Or even brushed the topic away and steered it in a direction that he preferred better, like he typically would to those around him. All with his trademark grin and laughter in place, and his shadows shoved far out of sight.

(Subtlety and deception weren't something people would normally expect from the heir of the Asim family. Someone who acted like their hearts were on their sleeves could never manage it, would break under the pressure of even one lie. And yet, it was there, had always been there, even before the two of them had met.)

“I would, if you do the same too.“ Kalim tilted his head slightly to the side as he sounded out his words slowly, as if considering them as they left his lips. Contemplating, expectant. Entirely curious. “Would you?“

Crossing the room from where he stood by the doorway to stand closer to the side of the bed, Jamil simply held his hand out towards him. An offer. Waiting as he told him his piece, his answer to his offered condition. “It's a deal then.“

There was a beat of silence as they stared at each other, unmoving. As if challenging the other to make the next move first.

(And wasn't that a thought in itself? He never expected to ever do something akin to this with Kalim of all people. And yet, that's what this was, wasn't it? His master was proving to be much too intriguing for him not to try to dig him out from the mirage that he put on for the world. Far too interesting.)

The stillness of the atmosphere was eventually shattered by the incredulous chuckle that left Kalim's lips as he shook his head at him, looking completely caught off guard by the way their conversation had devolved into. Still, he took his hand and shook it with his own, a smile curling up the corner of his mouth. “Alright.“

They smiled at each other—real ones and not the caricatures they had been showing to the world at large. Unapologetic. Gleeful. And entirely full of anticipation.

Jamil couldn't wait for the holiday to finally reach its end.

After all, things were going to get very interesting from here on out.