Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

     The boy had fought through blood and sweat; knuckles to teeth, blades to claws. He had defeated monsters but also his friend. He hadn’t known what would await him at the end of the tunnel, atop the mysterious tower. Then, he heard the creature— no, the Djinn, speak: “Who will become king?” Four words that would bind him forever, four words that would manifest a desire buried deep in his heart. 

     He had fought the monsters by Drakon’s side and then had felt his own fists against his jaw. He couldn’t lose. A king was far from the lowly fishermen of his childhood: he had power and agency over his own fate and that of others. Above all, a king would be able to realize his dream. He wasn’t going to let that chance fall into the hands of another. 

     Drakon had been born into a noble family, was destined to climb the ranks until one day he might’ve even reached that of royalty. 

     Sinbad had been born to a family of fishermen. Commoners, outcasts to parthevian society. He was destined to work for his country until they would take him away to fight in their senseless war. 

     So he had given it his all. Had fought with his blade and his fists and his guts. And then, when he rose with that look in his eyes, the Djinn looked down at him and declared him worthy of becoming king. 

     “I’ve witnessed it clearly, Sinbad,” the divine being spoke. “I approve you as my lord and worthy of  Solomon’s treasure.” 

     The world around him began to glow, a bright light shone with his blade at its center. “Receive it with the sword in your hand! This is the power you yearn for!” 

     A shining sigil appeared on his sword and the Djinn was soon absorbed by it. Then, magic exploded all around them. 

     The room turned to gold— old vases that had seemed rotten and shattered now shone, encrusted with jewels and carved by masters. Dust rose and turned to glitter, and Sinbad, with his sailor’s eyes wide, couldn’t help but be silenced by such a sight. 

    Until— the statue that laid in the middle of the room began to glow too. He remembered first glancing over at it and being struck by curiosity, before something uneasy had crept up his spine. 

     When they had first entered the treasury, Drakon still by his side, everything had been made of stone. They had been disappointed, hadn’t thought much of what they’d found. They had heard word of immense treasure and power— not some old dusty basement. Yet a monument in the center of the room had caught their eye. A great big stone bed: within it laid a body.

     They had walked up to the stone, carved as if it were a tomb, only to lay their eyes on the figure of a young girl. They had wondered, if only for a moment, who could’ve possibly sculpted such a thing, for the girl, although made of stone, was smooth and delicate and her long braided hair had been spun around her head like a crown. Her hands were folded one over the other, keeping hold of what seemed to be a long and intricate staff. Her eyes were closed, and it almost felt as if she were breathing, sleeping peacefully amidst the dungeon. 

     “Incredible. Not even the greatest parthevian sculptors could manage such a feat…” Drakon had reached his hand out, as if to check for a pulse, perhaps to feel a heart beating under her chest, but there had been nothing. His fingers met the cold and hard stone and although it was as smooth as marble, it wasn’t anything more than a statue. Sinbad, arms crossed, had watched his companion gape at the figure without saying a word. He hadn’t been able to shake that eerie feeling and hadn’t dared approach the statue— and yet an ugly swirl rose in his gut as he fought the impulse to grab Drakon’s hand before it met her skin. 

     But now, the girl shone with a blinding light. Sinbad, legs tired and wounded, clambered up the steps to where she lay, deep in her slumber. His golden eyes widened when he saw stone melting into something pale and fleshy— skin! Soft lips, long, pink curls crowning her face, the delicate rise and fall of her chest. She was alive. He couldn’t believe it: a girl sleeping so peacefully amidst the hell that was a dungeon. 

     It was his turn to stare at her as if caught in a trance. His hand reached out, slowly, carefully, until his fingers found her cheek. It was cold and he felt the sudden fear that he’d just grazed the skin of a dead person. 

     Suddenly, she stirred and her eyes fluttered open. He still stood over her, purple hair hanging over hers, hand still on her cheek— but something kept him rooted where he was. Perhaps it was her eyes of a deep, lively blue, that stared into his own unblinkingly. 

     “Hello,” she murmured in a raw voice, sounding as if she hadn’t spoken in years. Which, now that he thought about it, she probably hadn’t. How long had she even been in here? 

     Sinbad blinked at her a couple of times, too stunned to actually do anything. 

     “Who are you?” she spoke again, voice like sand. 

     He snapped back to reality. “I’m Sinbad, sailor and conqueror of this dungeon,” he grinned. “I was told I would find mountains of gold, but no one mentioned a real treasure like you would be down here.” 

     His smile was charismatic, cheeky even, but inside he wondered if he’d just scared her away. She didn’t say anything, only stared at him until—

     She burst out laughing. It was weak, like a whisper, but it was bright and joyful and it filled the whole treasury with something beautiful. “You’re funny,” she said simply, slowly trying to push herself up into a sitting position. 

     Her arms ended up being too weak, though, and she faltered before Sinbad reached a hand out to help her. “Whoa, not so fast,” he laughed, arms around her shoulders. “You look like you haven’t seen the light of day in ages, wouldn’t want you getting dizzy.” 

     She looked up at him, pink strands covering her face. She blew her hair out of her eyes and tilted her head. “The light of day? What do you mean?” She spoke slowly, even more so quietly, and Sinbad had to pay close attention to make sure he caught every word.  

     “Well…” he paused, a boyish curiosity bubbling in his gut. “How long have you even been down here? The dungeon only appeared a couple of months ago…”

     Her forehead creased and she closed her eyes as if in deep concentration. “I…” She opened them again. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.” 

     He tried not to frown at her answer. His curiosity was eating him alive, his desire to know more about these dungeons and this girl burned. How had she gotten in here? Why was she in here? Did someone put her here or was she a magical creation birthed from the dungeon? Was she what Baal had called ‘Solomon’s Treasure’? Who even was she? What—

     “What’s your name?” he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you can remember it.” 

     “Hmm…”

     “I told you mine, it would only be fair for you to return the favour,” he added, grinning. 

     “I’m…” she blinked, before looking up at him with a newfound light in her eyes. “Mithra. I’m Mithra.” 

     “Mithra,” he repeated. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” 

     “Thank you!” she smiled frankly, and he was taken aback by her honest expression. He wondered if his flirting had gone over her head. Well, it was mostly out of habit anyways— he wasn’t bothered. 

     A groan echoed from behind them, catching Sinbad’s attention. Drakon was slowly trying to drag himself off the ground. He’d been knocked out for a moment there, but it seemed like he’d just regained consciousness. 

     “Sinbad? Who are you talking to?” he asked painfully, a hand on his ribs, one eye half closed. Sinbad felt a pang of guilt looking at his sorry state but buried it deep down before it actually manifested into anything. He wasn’t going to let himself feel guilty for chasing his dream. Still, he never wanted to resort to such means, turning against a friend like he’d had no choice to do, again. 

     “Drakon,” he acknowledged, relieved to see him okay. Moving out of the way, he wrapped an arm around Mithra to help her climb out of the now golden crib. 

     She stumbled out, leaning on her golden staff for support. And although she was clumsy and awkward in her demeanour, there was something in the way she held herself, perhaps it was her straight posture, perhaps it was how delicately she moved, that suggested nobility. 

     “This is Mithra, child of the dungeon,” he improvised and Drakon’s eyes widened. 

     Her long, pink hair, fell in tangled waves around her, practically engulfing her. Her eyes were of a deep, majestic blue, and on her forehead a red jewel shone under the dim dungeon light. A plain white robe had been wrapped around her like a dress, similar to the toga’s he’d seen nobles from Rem wear, although different in a way he couldn’t explain. Holding up the ensemble was a long red rope. In her left hand, she held a great golden staff, taller than her by at least a head. 

     “She’s… she’s the girl— the statue—“ 

     Sinbad cut him off. “She came to life along with all the treasures turning from stone to gold,” he elaborated. 

     He stared at them incredulously. “Does that mean—?”

     “We don’t know what it means.”

     “Sinbad?” Mithra whispered. She hadn’t taken her gaze off of Drakon yet, staring at him with wide eyes. “Who is that?” 

     “His name is Drakon. He conquered the dungeon with me.” 

     “Conquered the dungeon?” she asked, puzzled.

     “Does she not know?” Drakon said, looking aghast. Sinbad was about to answer but Mithra beat him to it, head tilted.

     “I don’t remember,” she stated simply. And although she sounded plain, there was almost a disappointment to her voice that said otherwise.

     Drakon’s frown deepened, but it seemed like he too had finally come to the conclusion there wasn’t much more to say or do about the situation. Not right now when they were still in the dungeon. He looked around, as if searching for perhaps a final answer and his eyes landed on the mountains of treasure. 

     “This… wasn’t here before.”

     Sinbad broke out into a grin. Riches beyond whatever his wildest dreams could’ve imagined. With this, he would be able to take the first step towards his future. He could already feel an idea bubbling in his mind. A way to save this wretched world.

     “We should probably collect it all up before we leave,” he said. “We can use those!” He used his thumb to point towards the empty bags lying around. 

     He took Drakon’s silence as a yes and got to work, motioning for Mithra to follow him, though she didn’t do much. Instead, she stood there, her staff in hand. Sometimes, she asked questions. Questions about where they were, what was a dungeon and why should it be conquered. About Sinbad and Drakon and where they were from if not the dungeon. Other times, she stayed silent and watched Sinbad with curious eyes.

     Soon enough, Drakon joined him, silent and stoic in his usual manner. Even in his noble life, he had never seen so much gold in one place. His fingers often lingered on encrusted jewels or engraved patterns, appreciating the artistry of it all. Unlike Sinbad who contented himself with shoving all gold alike in the sacks, Drakon took his time, admiring it with wide eyes. 

     There were five of those humongous sacks, filled to the brim, by the time they were finished. Exhausted, neither of them would’ve been able to keep going anyways. Drakon’s wounds were catching up to him, and even Sinbad was feeling the weight of his battles upon his shoulders. His knuckles ached and his feet felt blistered— he struggled not to lose touch with reality and fall into a deep slumber. 

      Only Mithra stood unscathed. She hadn’t said anything in a while, but when a great big magic circle appeared, she was the first one to step foot inside it. When Sinbad asked her if she’d ever seen one before, she shrugged and said she didn’t know, only that it felt right to do what she had. He hadn’t pushed any more than that before collapsing, using the sacks as a pillow, and falling asleep. Drakon soon followed suite and Mithra was left alone with her newly awakened consciousness and little to no knowledge about anything, not even who she was. The walls around her mind refused to budge. 

2271 w.

Chapter Text

     “Who was that woman?” Mithra asked, sitting by Sinbad’s side, the ocean at their feet. The sand was warm under her skin, and above them the moon shone bright. 

     “She was my mother,” he replied, staring off into the distance. She kept her gaze locked onto his expression, her own unreadable. 

     “She seemed kind,” was all she said and Sinbad couldn’t help but smile to himself. 

     “The kindest. It’s too bad you didn’t get the chance to meet her, really.” 

     “Yes. I would’ve liked to meet her very much,” she agreed simply, dragging her eyes away from Sinbad’s pensive gaze. “Is it not possible anymore?” 

     “No. She’s passed on from this world to the next, now,” he explained, pain tugging at his heartstrings. He had gotten over his initial sorrow, but he still hadn’t shaken off the heavy solitude that had crept up to rest upon his shoulders. 

     “I see,” she answered softly, silence lingering after her words. “She is some place nice, then,” she added and glanced up to see Sinbad’s lips curl upwards ever so slightly. 

     “Yeah. I’m sure she’s still watching over me, though,” and his sad expression turned into a smile. He leaned in towards Mithra. “Maybe she’s watching us right now.” 

     Mithra laughed. “You’re funny. The birds seem happier around you.” 

     His brow furrowed and he leaned back ever so slightly. “The birds?” 

     Her hand reached out and vaguely indicated the empty space around him. Whatever she was showing him, he couldn’t see it. “Yes, they gather around you.” Her palm turned as if she were holding something in it. “They like you.” 

     She puzzled him. Nothing about her made sense. She spoke as if she were from another world, like there was a shift between their realities. And that shroud of mystery was exactly what drew him in— he was curious, as teenage boys are. Mithra was special, that wasn’t hard for anyone to realize.

     When they had reappeared outside the dungeon, it had been only the two of them, with Drakon nowhere to be seen. Behind them laid the treasure and around them, the parthevian army. 

     Sinbad had drawn his sword, but he’d known there were too many of them. If a fight were to have ensued, there was no way he would’ve won against a whole garrison. But when everything had seemed hopeless, Mithra had taken a step forwards. Without a word, and as if guided by some ulterior force, she’d reached her hand out and gently pressed her fingers to the eight pointed star on his sword. 

     A crack of thunder and a flash of light— a great blue figure had been summoned: it was Baal. Suddenly, words crept up his throat and out of his mouth. He hadn’t known where they were from, but they’d felt familiar and right. 

     “The djinn of wrath and heroes, I summon thee and thy household to feed on my magoi and empower my will with your great ability!” He raised his sword above his head. “Come forth: Baal!” And lightning had struck all around them, ridding them of the parthevian soldiers. 

     “H-how did you know to do that..?” Sinbad had wondered, still shocked by his new abilities and by the events they’d just survived. 

     She’d shrugged, something she had been doing a lot, he’d noticed. “I followed the birds.” That had been the first time she’d ever mentioned them.

     He’d been about to ask her what she was talking about when a familiar voice had interrupted. 

     “Well, this is a surprising turn of events.” A man with long blonde hair, tied into a braid and wearing a large green sorcerer’s hat had smiled down at the both of them, floating into view. 

     Sinbad had met him once before— he had been the one to tell him about the dungeon in the first place. To Mithra, this had been a complete stranger, and yet she’d thought the look in his eyes was kind and his smile soft, and she’d felt appeased by his presence. 

     “Yunan!” he’d cried, recognizing the familiar face. 

     “Sinbad, and… hm, interesting,” the blonde had spoken, a twinkle in his eyes. Mithra had wondered if she’d ever met him before. He’d seemed to act as if he’d known her once— or at least known of her. Who was he?

     “I’m glad to see your adventure went well, but…” his gaze had wandered over to the parthevian soldiers, slowly gathering their wits around them. Sinbad had destabilized and pushed back a lot of them, but they were finally beginning to regain their spirits. “I think it may be time to go now.”

     “But—“ he’d been cut off by the lack of earth under his feet. Yunan had lifted him and Mithra up into the air; they now floated before him. Sinbad had struggled to understand what was happening, and beside him Mithra had stared with wide eyes, amazed by this new feeling. 

     “The sea route from here to your village would take two days,” Yunan let his lips curl into a smile, lifting his chin to reveal a twinkling gaze under the brim of his hat. “I’ll give you two a free ride.” 

     Suddenly, they’d begun to float higher and higher off the ground. “Yunan! Wha—“

     “I would’ve gone with you but…” his gaze had travelled from Sinbad to finally land on Mithra. “It seems I’m no longer needed.” 

     And with a flick of the fishing rod he called a wand, he’d propelled them both into the sky, sending them far away, back to Sinbad’s village. 

     When they’d landed with a crash in Tison village, they’d looked up to see a swarm of villagers crowding around them.

     “Is that Sinbad?”

     “Who’s the girl?”

     “Sinbad’s back!” 

     It had been overwhelming to have so many faces around them when they hadn’t even gotten over Yunan’s little trick. Mithra had experienced motion sickness for the first time and she hadn’t enjoyed a second of it.

     Hands had reached through the crowd and a woman had pushed her way past the agitated villagers in a hurry. “Sinbad! I heard word of Sinbad!” she had cried frantically. When her gaze had landed on him, her eyes had begun to swell with tears. “Sinbad! Where have you been!” It had been his aunt. “Leaving Esra all by herself! Where were you for the past two months?” 

     Nothing else had to be said for Sinbad to run back home. Mithra had trailed behind him, confused, but when they had arrived and Sinbad had run to his dying mother’s side, she had known to stay by the door without interrupting. 

     A mother. Sinbad had told her all about them on their way back from the dungeon. It had felt like they’d spent hours in that strange space, floating from one world to another. Sinbad and Drakon had taken that time to explain many things and answer dozens of her questions. 

     A mother. She’d wondered if she had one. Sinbad had assured her that everybody had a mother. She’d only wished she could remember hers. But every time she closed her eyes and tried to remember, she was met with the same white walls. 

     Sinbad had stayed inside by his mother’s side for a long time, and she had waited outside until sunrise. 

     The next day, they had held what Sinbad had called a funeral. This time, he didn’t cry. He’d had this look in his eyes, a determined look, and the birds had gathered around him again. 

     After, when the sun had set and the moon risen, Sinbad had walked to the beach and Mithra had followed. There they sat in the sand, and talked. 

     “You’re strange,” Sinbad grinned, “but I guess that’s what I should expect, coming from a girl born in the dungeon.” 

     “I’m strange?” she blurted out, startled. And seeing the look of anguish in her eyes, he couldn’t help but snicker.

     “Yeah, you’re strange! You ask questions about everything, and yet can’t answer a single one I have about you. You were dressed weird, too, until I gave you those clothes. Oh, and you carry around this big golden staff, haven’t let go of it once, because that’s normal! Sure!” 

     She gripped her staff closer to her chest and looked at him with big eyes. It was the most he’d seen her express yet— up until then, she’d been very soft with her emotions, not monotone, but not lively either.

     “Hey, don’t look at me like that! It’s the truth isn’t it?” he grinned, turning his body over to face her. “But that’s why you’re special. Just like Baal who lends me his power, I’m sure you too can do great things like that. Nothing found in a dungeon is normal, after all.” 

     She relaxed, seemingly a little reassured. Sinbad was the only person Mithra had ever known. Drakon, perhaps counted too, but Sinbad— he had been the first human she’d ever laid her eyes on (and later the last). He had accepted her and taken her in without much thought. Now, she kind of just dragged herself around by his side, but not once had he thought it a burden for her to follow him everywhere like this; it wasn’t her fault after all, she had nowhere else to go. 

     It seemed Sinbad’s approval meant a lot to her— reasonably so, as she had no one else in this world. These new emotions though, they were growing hard to control. She hadn’t realized why her heart began to beat faster when Sinbad pointed all of those things out, didn’t know what name to give worry and the fear of abandon. But when he’d smiled at her reassuringly she had felt herself rest.

     “So it’s not… a bad thing…?” she asked and he laughed. “‘Course not.” 

     “You still like me?” 

     “Sure,” he barked out a laugh.

     She let out a sigh. “Good,” she said so softly, it was almost a whisper. 

     None of them spoke for a while. Instead they listened to the sound of the waves washing up on the shore, of the breeze brushing past them, catching in their hair and their clothes. 

     “Well,” Sinbad interrupted the silence, standing up and dusting off his pants. “I’m going back. Thanks, for keeping me company.” 

     She smiled, eyes closed happily. She felt something warm bloom in her chest, she was discovering gratitude. Opening her eyes again and staring up at him, she let one of her hands run through the sand by her side. “Do you mind if I… stay? Just a little longer.” 

     “Sure,” he nodded. Mithra admired the smile on his lips. He had been through a lot, she could tell, these past few days. And though she didn’t understand all of it, she could feel it, in his words and the birds around him, that he was struggling. Yet he still managed to laugh and grin when moments ago he’d been staring off at the moon in the distance. He didn’t let his hardships bring him down, never stopped the course of his destiny and something about that felt… right.

     And now, with Sinbad gone, she was left alone on the beach, the ocean before her, and behind her the outskirts of Tison village. Yet all around her were the white walls again— silent and unmoving.

     Mithra awoke with sand in her hair, coarse and rough against her skin— she had fallen asleep on the beach. She’d had the same dream again. The one she’d been having every night since she woke up in the first dungeon. 

     She stood in the middle of a room, though it felt more like a large mass of emptiness, a space made of nothing but the four white walls that surrounded her. They glowed, and as she sat there and stared, they refused to fall. 

     Now the sun was high in the sky, and the world around her seemed limitless. It was alive and that soothed something in her heart. Above her, seagulls flew out to sea. Her eyes trailed the strange birds— she wasn’t used to all the life forms of this world yet— before they landed on approaching ships, heading to the harbour. 

     Quickly, she scrambled up, grabbing her staff and running to the docks to see what the commotion was all about. She was curious— Sinbad had told her they didn’t receive many visitors in Tison. 

     The boats had gotten closer. A crowd had gathered around her, whispering and wondering what such a notorious ship was doing here. A woman next to her mentioned the royal army, and Mithra’s heart began to race. Those were the people they had seen outside the dungeon. She remembered how they’d held their spears to Sinbad’s throat, before being blown away by Baal’s magic. 

     I have to warn him. These soldiers meant no good. When the blonde man, Yunan he was called, had flown them away, it had been what Sinbad had later called ‘a lucky escape’. The word escape had struck her, for it meant they were being hunted, that they were running from something. 

      Pushing her way out of the crowd, she ran back to Sinbad’s house, as fast as her weak legs could carry her. She had to warn him. 

     The door opened with a bang as she burst into the house. “Sinbad!” she called, and he soon appeared, a worried look in his golden eyes.

     “Mithra! There you are! You didn’t come back last night, I was wo—“ he began, startled by her sudden appearance.

     “Sinbad! The soldiers! They’re at the port. I think they came for you,” she blurted out, pink locks flying. Sinbad was reminded of the need to get her to cut her hair. Its length and wild character would be sure to end up a hazard.

     “The soldiers? What…” he halted, brows furrowed before making up his mind. “Well, let’s go give them the welcome they deserve,” he broke into a grin, grabbing Baal’s sword and heading out to the port, Mithra trailing behind him, confused by his relaxed attitude— did he not share her anxiety and fear? This wasn’t a good thing, no? Then why was he smirking like that?

     The crowd was still gathered around the docks, but this time, there seemed to be a loud commotion going on. Yells and cries echoed out as the agitated villagers watched without being able to actually do anything— for in their center was a woman. She wore golden armour and her pink hair, tied into loops, was reminiscent of Mithra’s own, though lighter in its colour. Her fists were dark and bloodied, and they continued to ram into a villager’s jaw. 

     Mithra stopped with a sharp halt at the sight before her. Her blue eyes were wide and she stared at the woman and her sharp glare with fear. But Sinbad wasn’t discouraged. 

     He dashed into the center of it all and grabbed her fist before it could hurt the man any further. “Let him go, Miss,” he said calmly.

     Something flashed through her eyes and she jumped back, ridding herself of his grip. “Sinbad,” she stated, her eyes narrowing. 

     “Hey, you’ve heard about me?” He waved his hand in a salute, smiling. “It’s my pleasure to be remembered by a cute girl.” 

     “How dare you!” Two women ran to the armoured lady’s side. They glared at Sinbad with rage and fury and Mithra wondered what he could’ve possibly done to deserve such wrath. She didn’t understand these people. 

     “Such an insolent fool!” The shorter one with the spiky hair yelled, arms out protectively in front of the first woman. “Do you know who this lady is?”

     The other one mimicked her friend’s movements. “Show your respect to the first princess of Parthevia, Princess Serendine!” 

     This instantly earned the crowd’s reaction, a wave of fear and awe carrying itself through their hearts, and yet Sinbad stood before them all, unbothered. The title didn’t seem to affect him at all. 

     The princess drew her sword. “You can’t run Sinbad.” Her two followers tried to object, said that she shouldn’t do this in front of the commoners. Instead, she ignored them. “It’s fine. Better yet, I want to show them what will happen to a fool who dares call the venomous spider princess a ‘girl’.” 

     Mithra frowned. The woman spoke with such condescension, she couldn’t help but feel sour. 

     Sinbad, still, seemed unbothered. “Unfortunately, I prefer not to hurt girls,” he stated with a shrug, and Serendine saw her anger tripled.  

     “How dare you!” she exclaimed. “You insist on having the last word, huh?” And she dived in, blade raised and aimed at his heart. 

     “Whoa! Not too bad for a princess,” he dodged easily, and Mithra admired his agility. She had only ever seen him fight once and that was by using Baal’s power. She knew nothing of his true combat abilities, but she supposed she was about to find them out.  “Still no match for me, though,” he smirked. 

     It seemed that had been one provocation too much, pushing her off the edge. Her eyes sharpened and she swung her blade at Sinbad with precision. There was a splash of red and Sinbad jumped back with one hand holding his forearm. The cut didn’t seem to be too deep, but there was something in Serendine’s glare, or maybe it was the grin on her companions, that left his heart unsettled.

     “Do you know why I’m called,” she began, superiority dripping off her tongue, “the Venomous Spider Princess?”

     Suddenly, Sinbad’s wounded arm seized up, and the veins started to pop. “What!” Mithra felt her heart drop.  She wanted to help, but she didn’t know how— she would only get in the way.

     “Oh? Feeling anything… wrong?” She glared at him, her turn to look smug. “That would be my dagger— the blade is imbued with the paralytic venom of a giant desert spider.” 

     “That’s right,” her short haired companion joined in. “Members of royalty are often assassination targets— but no matter how strong the bodyguard, they can’t protect their master from poison.” 

     “Which is why parthevian royalty is well trained in using poison,” the long haired woman added proudly. “The princess has learned a hundred of poisons from all around the world. A child like him will fall prey to her in no time.” 

     They all looked overly smug, Mithra was despaired by their cruelty— but Sinbad, shoulders hanging, expression hidden, couldn’t hold his laughter in any longer. 

     He burst out laughing, clutching his stomach with his free hand. “Thank goodness I grabbed these, then,” he held up two vials, his smile oozing with charisma. The crowd around them gasped, Mithra held her breath. 

     “Those are… the antidotes!” the two women exclaimed. 

     Serendine’s eyes widened. “It can’t be! He must’ve… how dare you—“

     But suddenly, she froze, her face molded into one of pure wrath and horror. There was a loud ripping noise, and all of a sudden, her breastplate fell. 

     Mithra’s cheeks burned, what in the world was going on??? The princess too, looked mortified, her arms wrapping around her chest to cover herself up and scavenge a bit of her pride.

     In one smooth movement, Sinbad swooped the princess over his shoulder and looked back at the two women and their soldiers. “All right, I guess this is called a hostage,” he waved them goodbye. “Loyal soldiers, kindly stay put until I board my ship. Mithra—“ he paused, and she blinked a couple of times, still confused by how everything had gone down. Everything went by so fast, she was struggling to keep up.

     ”It’s time to go.” And his free hand reached out to grab her wrist and drag her along with him. The soldiers yelled out, scandalized, and the villagers waved them goodbye, delighted by Sinbad’s victory. He only laughed as they ran, the sun at his face and the wind at his back.

     When they reached the docks, a small boat was already there, waiting for them.

     “When did you—“

     “This morning, took you awhile to come back. I was here thinking you wouldn’t— anyways, our talk last night made me realize there was nothing left for me here,” he smiled, helping Mithra climb into the boat and throwing the princess into it, ignoring her loud protests. “So come on, let’s get out of here.” 

     She nodded, without a word, and watched him set sail. She’d never been on the ocean, had only seen it for the first time a couple of days ago. But Sinbad was a natural, it looked like he’d spent his whole life on the sea, had been birthed from it. 

     “How dare you take a princess hostage, you mere peasant!” Serendine yelled, thrashing at the ropes Sinbad had tied around her. Mithra frowned; she was being loud and ruining an otherwise beautiful moment. “Let me go immediately! That’s an order!”

     “Oh, well, if it’s an order,” Sinbad broke into a grin, grabbing her shoulders, shoving her into a barrel, and throwing it out into the sea. Mithra’s eyes widened.

     “You— You bastard! How dare you! I’m going to make you suffer! Make you—“ but her voice was soon drowned out by the sound of the waves and the wind in their sail. Sinbad laughed, his pulling on the sail’s rope, as he waved her goodbye from the distance.

     “Is she going to be okay?” Mithra asked, hesitant.

     “Oh, she’ll be fine. The current’ll drift her back eventually. Or the soldiers’ll come fetch her. Either way, you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about it,” he reassured her and she felt herself grow calm.

      “Alright then,” she smiled, climbing over rope and wood to lean onto the side of the boat, her hand reaching out into the water. Sinbad laughed. The sunlight draped over his skin, shining from above. The ship rocked gently from side to side and Mithra was overcome by a new feeling. It was joy at its purest form, she felt like bliss, infinite. 

     The boat shifted all of a sudden and Mithra almost fell into the water. Startled, she looked up to see Sinbad staring down at her, one foot on the gunnel and a hand held out to the sky and open sea around them. The white birds swarmed around him, excited, as if they knew what came next.

     “Alright, let’s go!” A gust of wind made his hair run wild and in that moment, she was filled with something she couldn’t quite describe. He looked ethereal— like a god. “I’m going to change the world!”

3760 w.