"I've read a story about a young girl who had been kidnapped and taken away to live in a castle with a horrible woman casting to be her mother. How she was saved by a thief of all people. Then as she came to love the person who saved her and how she brought her back to her kingdom. They got married, and lived happily ever after. As a child, I often wondered if I would be saved by someone just like the girl, but it dawned onto me early in my teens that I do not have that privilege. I do not have the right to set foot outside, nor to see the sun, or to feel emotion. I eventually forgot about the book and scrapped it aside, along with all of the feeling of my heart as I last hoped for my savior."
Jafar's slender fingers stopped as he stared down at the paper full of ink words. He doesn't know how many times he's written the same thing on the papers. He's lost count. Pages covered the desk in a messy print as Jafar put away his ink feather pen. He stacked the papers up, not caring if they got all wet in the process since the ink hasn't dried. He set them on the side of the desk, standing up from his wooden chair. It skidded over the wooden floor underneath it. Jafar didn't exactly care too much about the consequences of making a mess here. It was his castle, after all. Well, this wasn't exactly a castle too say. It was more of a prison, meant to kept outsiders outside and Jafar inside. His room stood at the very top of the tower, where there was no way down unless he chose to possibly die from jumping or try to climb down. Either way, he was completely trapped.
Reaching up to a cabinet just a few centimeters above him, Jafar grabbed a can of sash, a common delicacy in the kingdom of Partevia. Yet, it had been a while since this food was delivered to him, and so it may not taste too good. But Jafar had to eat something. He poured the sash into a bowl and grabbed a spoon for him to scoop it up. When the mush came into contact with his mouth, it made Jafar want to vomit. It must've been expired, then... You see, not often to people come to visit Jafar. Only some guards to come to check if he's still here and if his health is at most ok, then there's maids who send food up to his room. Even so, they never do actually come up to his room. Jafar isn't even allowed to have the sun hit his skin, so the only windows in his tower are closed off apart from the one that is only for food baskets to enter. Even when it's open, the food is usually delivered when Jafar is sleeping. So he has no chance of even escaping or seeing the sun even if he wanted to.
Food is only delivered every few months, at most. The king says that he doesn't want his weapon to get fat, so he doesn't feed Jafar that often, and when he does, it's small portions. Most days Jafar goes without eating or drinking water. He's tired. Even so, he still forces a smile to his king when he comes to visit and see how his powers are progressing. He believes he may have some powers lightning since when Jafar was nine, he was struck by lightning not just once or twice, but 5 times in a row and survived. Every few months, usually the day food is delivered, the king of Partevia comes to check on Jafar. Not once has he used Jafar's name, but it's not much that the latter cares. All he wishes is that he leaves as quickly as he came. Yet, every visit becomes gradually longer.
Jafar has gotten used to this tower and not being able to eat much or see the sun, even have human contact apart from the king himself. He heard once, that the king plans to make Jafar his queen once he fulfills his duty as his weapon is upcoming wars. But just much more must he have to suffer before he is able to show he has no powers or until he shows he does have powers. He's used to living like this, like a toy, but sometimes he wishes he was outside, living in freedom.
Once he was done eating, Jafar put his empty bowl in a bucket of dirty water he uses to wash dishes. Yet, it serves no purpose if the water is not clean itself. Softly, Jafar comes into his bedroom, the only place that truly feels like home. It's where his darts are. They serve no use now that he has no need to fight. Before he was taken by the king, he learned how to fight from his family: mother, father, Vittel, Mahad. Jafar, feeling a sense of emptiness, grabs the darts and thumbs over them. They are dull after 12 years of no use. Yet, even after 12 years, Jafar is still able to fight quite well, as the king requires him to continue to practice his fighting styles everyday.
Then, right as Jafar was changing into his night shirt and pants, there's a knock on the window where the food is delivered. Even though he's inside his room he's still able to hear it from the main room. Slowly, the knocking continuing, Jafar makes his way to the main room, unlocking the window. A pair of polished shoes step inside and shut the window shut, leaving the room drowned in darkness once more. "I see you are preparing for bed." The smaller male nods for a reply. "Did you eat yet?" Again, another nod. Jafar doesn't feel like talking. The king doesn't seem to mind too much. "Is everything comfortable?" Jafar wanted to say no, but then he'd have to go into the details of wanting to go outside. So in the end he just nods again. "I apologize for coming so late. I've been dealing with... pirates as of late." Pirates?
"Pirates, you say? Well, if anyone can take them down you can, my lord." The smaller male finally grants himself permission to speak. The taller man just smiles and nods, a satisfied look on his face. For the moment, Jafar thought he may have made his king happy. Yet, that was far from the truth.
"I need to release my anger and frustration that's been gathering." Oh no. Jafar's heard that very line many times in his 12 years stuck in the tower. He's afraid to ask what he can do to help, already knowing the answer. "My prize... will you?" The king gestures to his clothing, and all the smaller male can do is help him undress. Jafar should be happy the king is calling him his prize, but he's not. Just the sound of it makes his stomach turn. Never once has the king used the boys name. Not once. Once the clothing is off, Jafar backs away a few steps. The king gives a dissatisfied look. "Is it not to your liking? Or is it that you're not up for it?" Jafar shakes his head, staring down.
"I'm just... lost in though, sir. I'm very tired and I'm not in the mood for such things tonight. I apologize for disappointing you." The king shakes his head, pulling back on his clothes. Even though this man is a horrible human being indeed, he seems to care for Jafar, or rather, the power he possesses. He brushes the smaller males hair gently away, tucking it behind his pale ear, not smiling nor frowning.
"It is fine. Just call me by my name and it will be enough for me." He tells Jafar, who nods and takes a deep breath. He doesn't know why the king is so manifested with him saying his name, but as long as he gets away from having sex, he will do anything. Slowly, Jafar lifts his eyes to meet the kings, forcing a smile to form on his lips.
"Ceylan Dikumenowlz Du Parthevia, your majesty." The king smiles and pats Jafar's head before walking back to the window. He opens it, but not enough for the former to see outside much.
"Try to get some rest. Food will be issued to you tomorrow night." He nods before his majesty leaves through the window, probably using a ladder of some sort to get up and down. Now the white haired boy was alone again. He was alone. The realization hits him late, and he drops to the floor, grasping his night shirt, gasping. Every encounter he has with that man... it's painful. Even if he just looks at him, it's so painful!
"Argh...!!" The pale boy pants weakly before regaining his composure. He steps all the way back into his room, throwing the covers over his shoulders and closing his eyes. Yet, even his dreams are haunted by that face.
——————
Sinbad had never been one for tight, enclosed spaces. He was an adventurous kind of guy; the one that ladies loved. With all the stories and good looks, girls came crawling all around to see him. He was quite prideful in his work, including Sindria, his ship. Of course, he couldn't forget about his crew, the Sindrians. The pirate gang of misfits. Yeah, that sounded about right. In the past few years, Sinbad has been collecting people who are insecure about themselves and their place in the world and has taken them a home. It has always been like this.
Everyone dreams to sail the seas with Sinbad, the mighty pirate. Although, he's not actually that popular. He's just a pirate posing as a sailor with his crew of merchants. Well, that wasn't wrong either. They were also merchants. If they weren't out helping people and stealing things form horrible people, they were out selling things they've found on their adventures.
Even though they had quite a good reputation, though, they were still sought out by Ceylan, the king of Partevia and other nations like Reim. They have to be prepared to fight every second, every day. Even if Sinbad wasn't there for his crew, they had to be ready. Fighting is quite often for Sinbad and his crew. They all live in constant battle, wether it's inner or outer.
Although, Sinbad knows his crew is more than prepared for battles without him. He's often not even with his crew, instead, he's out collecting treasures and of course, beauties. Often Hinahoho, one of his crew members, would tell him he needs to find a wife to settle down with and have children with, but to be honest with him, Sinbad isn't into that stuff. Or, he hasn't met anyone that has made him want to settle down and have children. He's a wild child, to say, not supposed to be tamed.
After thinking all of these things over, the violet haired 22-year-old pinched his brows together. All of these taxes he had to pay were a hassle. He was a pirate. He didn't need to pay all this crap. Well, actually, if he wanted to keep being a merchant as a cover up for pirates, he has to pay taxes. With a yawn, Sinbad stood up and handed the paper to Hinahoho. "Look good enough?" He questions the taller, older man before him.
"Splendidly horrible." He responded with complete honesty. Sinbad's face frowned. "Have you never learned how to do math your entire life?" Sinbad scratched the back of his head, unnerving. It was scary when Hinahoho was interrogating him about these things. Well, he'd take Hina over Rurmuru, his wife. The blue haired man sighed and stood up. "I'll do the rest. Go get your rest, caption."
"Are you sure?" Sin asked, to which, his close friend nodded. It hurt the shorter man to have one of his crewmen to do his work, but he had no other choice. It was that or be thrown overboard when they reach the next port of Partevia's capital. In actuality, the reason they were going to Partevia's capital was for one, to see the ladies like Princess Serendine, and two, to steal this so called weapon Ceylan is being kept hidden. It seems rumor has spread around quickly with this weapon, and Sinbad wondered what it was. I wonder if it's a sword that turns into a beautiful girl and moans when you pick her up and swing her~
"Stop fantasizing, Sinbad." Hina suddenly caught Sin through his trance. The purple haired man glared at the blue haired man before stomping out of the room. Honestly though, Sinbad was curious about this weapon of Ceylan's. Whatever it was, it must be taken out his hands.
Hey guys and gals!! Here's to my new story!! I really didn't expect it to get over 2,000 words in just the prologue but ok!! Chapter one should be posted by the end of today and if not probably on Wednesday!!
Bye bye!!