AN: Today is definitely still Saturday. Totally. Next chapter: Eren Jäger.

Masrur was swiftly running out of places to sleep. His own room was clearly out, the forest had ended in disaster, and he wasn't even sure what happened in the brothel was real. Granted, Sharrkan harassed him about it the next day so it had to have happened, but that didn't make it any less weird. If it weren't for the sword master bothering him, he would've been certain it was a hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation.

For whatever reason, Yamraiha forgave Sharrkan a few days later, and Masrur set about on what he thought was his best plan yet; stealing his room. If history was any indication – it was – then he had two or three nights of solid, uninterrupted sleep in Sharrkan's bed before he had to go hunt for a new room. They had this pattern; Sharrkan and Yamraiha would sleep together for a few nights, Sharrkan would say something to piss Yamraiha off, and then Sharrkan would be forced to return to his room for a few nights. The cycle had repeated itself since the former prince had turned nineteen, and it wasn't bound to change any time soon.

And that was why, three nights after the incident in the brothel, Masrur found himself stalking Sharrkan just to be absolutely sure he would get his room that night. There were a few close calls, when the other man turned around to see who was following him, and Masrur had to jump behind pillars and try to blend into the castle walls. But otherwise he went undiscovered, which was impressive for a 195 cm, 105 kg Fanalis.

He waited outside Yamraiha's room for 10 minutes, just in case Sharrkan did something else stupid enough to make her angry, before practically skipping with joy to his room – which, of course, simply constituted him walking slightly faster with no more emotion. Finally, finally, he was going to get some sleep. If he weren't so determined to annoy Sharrkan he would hug him and tell him he was his best friend. Not that he was or anything.

Things went wrong the instant Masrur clicked the door shut. His nose picked up a smell that was similar to Aladdin, Judal, and that one crazy green man who kidnapped Morgiana, but he could tell it wasn't any of them. He turned around, bracing himself for battle, and found a short blonde girl staring at him. Her hair was so long it was dragging on the ground and she had this odd little half-moon staff in her hand. Based on what he knew from listening to Sinbad and Ja'far talk, she must be the fourth magi, Scheherazade.

"Hello," she said, smiling one of those all-knowing magi smiles they all seemed to have.

"Hi," he responded to not be rude. Last time he was rude to a magi it resulted in a tiny tornado destroying the armor in his room. And this wasn't even his room; he couldn't imagine how angry Sharrkan would be if he found out that Masrur was stealing his bed. Again.

"Masrur, right?"

"Are you looking for Sinbad?" This, after all, was his palace. (Sinpalace, as he had successfully named it despite every single general protesting the idiocy of that name.)

"No, I don't think so." He narrowed his eyes; this couldn't be good. "You are Masrur, correct?"

And then she unfurled a paper from her sleeve. Masrur didn't even need to look at it to know what it said. He instantly hated whoever had made the stupid ad without his consent. "That is wrong."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow. "So you're not Masrur?"

"I am. The ad must be referring to a different one."

"Less than a hundred Fanalis left who aren't slaves, and you think there could be a second Masrur?"

He didn't really like the way she was talking to him; it felt like he was being patronized by someone's mother. Not that he knew what that was like. "I'm not the one on the ad."

"Really? Then why is it when I do this" – she waved her hand over the paper, and it glowed strangely, revealing a map of Sindria and a tiny red dot placed exactly where he was right at that moment – "it leads me to you?"

Masrur simply blinked at the map. That was strange; it really was leading to him. Who would do such a thing?

"Now then. This says you'll show me a good time, and I must say that I'm dying for a good time. I have a king's candidate who looks just like you, but is completely worthless in bed, despite what he's packing."

This looked like it was bound to go about as well as when Judal broke into his room. Masrur backed away cautiously. If she were a magi just like Judal, then it was a bad idea to anger her. Scheherazade stepped closer, the creepy smile still bright on her face, and Masrur's back hit the wall.

Just then the door banged open. "What the – ?"

Masrur could honestly say he was never happier to hear Sharrkan speak in his life.

"What – ? How – ? Who – who are you?"

Scheherazade wasn't even fazed. "Have you come to join us? Good. More is always better."

"Huh? No! What? Masrur what the hell?" Masrur just blinked at him, hoping his blank expression would successfully convey his feelings. "Are you actually taking a strange woman into my bed?! Only I can do that!"

"Are you going to join us or not?"

"No! I've had my fill for demanding women tonight, and you will get out!" Sharrkan yelled, and then to Masrur's amazement, shoved the magi away from him and out the window.

She floated there for a second. "You'll regret this sword master; I'm the best lay you'll ever have." Before he finally slammed the window in her face. Masrur could swear he heard her say something about "this is what clones were made for" before she flew away, but he wasn't sure.

Sharrkan spun around to him. "What the fuck did you think you were doing in my room?"

"Sleeping."

"This is my bed! In my room!" Clearly, Masrur hadn't stayed outside the door long enough. Somehow, Sharrkan had already managed to fuck it up again.

"You weren't supposed to be back yet."

He could actually feel the tension rolling off the other. "You're acting like this is my fault?"

Masrur was torn. On the one hand it was absolutely his fault that he ruined things with Yamraiha and was already back in his room, but on the other hand he had just saved Masrur from yet another incredibly uncomfortable situation. So instead he just stood there and blinked, hoping something would come along and take him to a place where he could sleep.

That wasn't quite what happened. "Sharrkan! Masrur! What's going – oh." As had become typical in Masrur's messed up life, Ja'far appeared right then. Masrur looked down at his own partially undressed self – how had that even happened? – and then over to Sharrkan's half-naked body. Oh. This looked…awkward.

"Sorry," Ja'far started backing out of the door, pushing the newly arrived Sinbad with him. "Didn't mean to interrupt."

Too late. Sinbad had already seen them. "Wow you get around, don't you Masrur?"

"Sin!" Ja'far yelled, but was ignored as the king pushed past him into the room. Masrur turned and watched as the gears worked in Sharrkan's head. It was almost worth all the sleep deprivation to see the reaction he was going to give.

"…What are you implying, Sinbad?" That tone was a bit darker than he'd expected.

Sinbad didn't seem to notice though. "Nothing much. Just that you looked like you were about to sleep together if you know what I mean." Masrur saw Ja'far face-palm behind him. It was time to leave. He slipped past Sinbad, not bothering to pick up his armor – he didn't want to know what evil magic Scheherazade did to get it over where Sharrkan was standing – and slipped out the door with a nod to Ja'far. Behind him, he could hear the sword master's voice screeching about the unfairness of life in the room he wouldn't get to sleep in again.