Magi - Ja'far X Reader Oneshot Book 2

💠 Until We Meet Again💠

How could this happen? Why did this happen?

Nothing makes sense.

One minute it was all hope, everything seemed to be over and, before he knew it, nothing was worth it anymore.

In a bed of multiple Sindrian flowers lays a single female, her (h/c) hair gracefully adorning her face, some locks testing over her shoulders. Her (e/c) eyes long ago closed, (s/c) paler than never and her body is wrapped in beautiful typical clothing.

Next to the coffin stand various people, those who loved her more than they can possibly explain.

Yamraiha sniffles as she cries in her hands, Sharrkan hugging her in comforting manner.

Pisti was kneeling in the floor while sobbing, Spartos quietly standing next to her while presenting his respects to the deceased.

Masrur stands by the casket, solemn expression hinted with pain, Drakon and his wife both place flower bouquets and Hinahoho stands with his children.

Sinbad was standing in the oposite side from Masrur, his eyes red and puffy from crying, you were his best friend after all.

The purplette king turns from you to his now main concern: Ja'far

The advisor for the first time in years didn't seem to care enough to wear his kaffiye, his tangled and messy white hair at the sight of everyone. His already pale face was ghostly by this point, almost the same as the one you now had, and his eyes where dull to say the least.

Why did this happen? How? It was too fast... It all happened too fast for him to stop it...

Sindria had been attacked, war had broken loose and everyone who knew how to joined the fight.

"Sin! We have to move the citizens somewhere safe! The buildings are falling apart!" Yelled Ja'far, his darts falling from a recently killed man's back. War was over by now, the only problem left was safety.

The king turns to him, nodding, "Start telling them to head back to the palace! We'll take in as many as we can" he instructs.

Ja'far nods and runs off, heading to the closest group of refugees to explain the situation.

"Ja'far!"

The white haired turns around, stopping as he spots a certain (h/c) haired.

"(Y/n)! We have to move the refugees" he says, the (e/c) eyed nodding slightly.

Then, it all happened too fast...

Ja'far's eyes widened, hearing the sound of a gun being fired and, before he could turn to the source, (y/n)'s eyes widened.

The white haired felt dizzy, his mind was spinning faster than he could process and, before he realized what had just happened you where falling.

Everything seemed to a blur starting from when he kneeled by your side, holding you and telling you to hold on. He couldn't hear his own voice but somehow knew you did.

Blood.

His hands where covered in blood, your blood.