Oh my goodness, for once something that actually pertains to the current SNB situation! That's new for me.

I do not own Magi,

And I hope you enjoy!

The music was blaring in the distance, the beating of the drums and the sounds of the flutes mixing together in a harmony perfect for the dancers on this fine night. The stars were out in full, the moon high and shining brightly.

Perfect.

And still, the King did not enjoy it in the way one would think. He and his advisor had curled up in bed, the older of the two leaning against the younger's chest and listening to the heartbeat of the pale man.

The feeling of soft scales where scarred skin should be was sobering, something as a horrifying remainder from their travels together. Specifically, from the dungeon of their least favorite of Sinbad's Djinns; Zepar.

Everything about that djinn sent anger through Sinbad, and a piercing bolt of fear through Ja'far. Because Sinbad knew what that djinn had caused Ja'far to do, and because Ja'far knew that Zepar could make him do anything. The ex-assassin was not ashamed of the scales he had, marks from his half assimilation in that dungeon, but instead simply ignored them. Though, on days like this when Sinbad has activated the powers of the sound djinn upon the princess, Alibaba having found out about said little problem within Kougyoku, and the like that went along with it.

Yes, the djinn and the equip was most certainly cute, that did not excuse what he did and could do with that power of his. It was understandable when they were in the dungeon at least, if only unreasonable. The testing of their strengths was interesting, and it had been a test of character as much as a test of loyalty.

Although that didn't give Zepar the right to force them into death matches with each other.

Some cuts from that fight Ja'far had scarred over differently than others, and he was perfectly fine with that. Sinbad, however, saw them as reminders of how horrible some djinns could really be, and as a reminder to keep from using a djinn's power too drastically in the name of harm.

They could both remember that time, one as clear as day and the other in only the faintest of memories.

A small pale body lying on the floor, a silver knife embedded deep within the boy's chest, blood pooling underneath the body. Horror in his veins, shock and adrenaline pulsing within Sinbad's body as what may have been the young Ja'far's last words echoing within his mind.

"Sin… I leave the rest to you."

He couldn't accept this, he refused to outright. But he couldn't do anything without risking Masrur as well, and he would not go and risk another life in this dungeon.

"Well, it seems the match is over. The fanalis is victorious!" Zepar's voice was shrill, maniacal even in its tone as he left the fanalis' body, causing the other child to collapse. Before anyone else could even process what had happened, Sinbad had run over to the dying, possibly already dead, household member. He couldn't even think, just act. Tears gathered in golden eyes as he leaned down and one hand wrapped around a small, fragile wrist and searched for a pulse.

But there was none.

"No no no no…" He chanted softly to himself, ignoring Zepar's "He's already dead, why bother with him?" and instead trying to do anything he could to help him.

Although, as the ex-assassin's knives began to glow in a similar fashion to what had happened in the previous match, the slow light increasing in intensity as a small eight pointed star lit up. The mark of the djinn and household. And even if he didn't know it in that moment, what he did next saved his best friend's life.

He unsheathed Baal's sword from the scabbard, laying it on top of Ja'far's chest, gripping the handle as he silently prayed that this would work. He didn't even notice everyone else's attention solely on him, nor the sound djinn's silence, as he focused on what he was doing. Golden eyes locked onto his friend's blood-covered face, as he breathed out words that caused an immense rush of power to swell from within him.

"Dwell in my body; Valefor."

A wave of cold fell over him before the immense warmth of Valefor's fluffy tails swayed behind him, the little white ears twitching as his hair became as pure white as Ja'far's had once been. Only a moment or so passed before he had moved his hands and activated the special ability of the wolf. Specifying different places, ignoring others, the world around him seemed to slow down all at once.

That, as well, was something he had become accustom to while training with this specific equip, so he paid it no mind. With his right hand once again upon the sword, careful of the black eyes upon his palms, he summoned all the strength and magoi he could and shouted the name of his other Djinn.

As the crack of lightning struck within the treasure room, the gasp that rung through the room from the conscious inhabitants' shock was nearly silent.

"What are you doing?!" Huffed Zepar, as Sinbad saw that when the bolt dissipated, the blade that was within Ja'far's chest crackled with electricity, and the glow softened. Sinbad breathed a sigh of relief, before once more using the powers of his lightning djinn.

He knew that this must be amusing for Zepar, watching him try and bring someone who's clearly dead back to life, and he could hear the other's telling to stop before he dies too, though none dared to approach him. With every lightning strike, more and more of Sinbad's magoi was drained, but the closer and closer he was getting to bringing his friend back. He could feel Ja'far's heart beat a little bit with every single use of the power, and every lingering bit of energy seemed to imbed itself into the blade stuck in his chest.

Blood vessels burst and skin tore, and still he did not relent on this. Breath came in short bursts, and he was unsure if he would be able to keep this up for more than another minute without dying.

Little did he know that minute was all he would need. All the energy that had been absorbed by the household vessel was surrounding them, crackling audibly. A bright white bird formed around the blade, and with one more lightning strike Sinbad unleashed something he didn't know was possible.

The tear in Ja'far's chest seemed to be repairing itself, forcing the blade out as the lightning consumed the small boy, and Sinbad vaguely remembered Drakon pulling him away from Ja'far, yelling something about assimilation that he couldn't quite recollect. But the minute he let go of Baal's sword, the light dissipated and left the room in silent awe.

Valefor's equip faded, white hair once more becoming its natural purple, and the dungeon conqueror was sure he'd never felt that exhausted in his entire life.

Yet as he went over to his best friend, hoping and praying that he had saved him with tears in his eyes, and he felt the soft and steady pulse of his friend's heartbeat, he let those tears fall. Despite the obvious wounds that still needed tending to, the deeper ones were healed enough for him to live, and that was enough. His entire being was filled with relief, and he felt at so at peace that he nearly forgot where they were.

Until Ja'far's eyes opened; Eyes the colors of shadows instead of their original jade looking up at him with rage the likes of which Sinbad had never seen before.

The rest of the story is one he'd rather not remember, yet he still wrote about it and published it.

He was snapped out of his revere by Ja'far murmuring something above him, opening those dark eyes he had come to love and looking down at him as he rested on the pale chest and listened to the soothing heartbeat.

"Mhnnn… Sin, it's time to go to sleep…. We have a meeting in the morning, remember?" The ex-assassin's voice was laced with sleep already, his messy silver hair falling in front of his eyes.

"And if I agree?" Sinbad retorted, nuzzling his face gently against the scaled area and enjoying the huff he got in return.

"Then maybe, maybe, I'll help you with the mess your hair will be in the morning." The moody advisor murmured, to which Sinbad nodded and snuggled down.

They were both already nude, as Sinbad not only had the habit of stripping himself but also his bed partner if they were unlucky enough to be with him when he started. But they wouldn't have it any other way. Well, maybe Ja'far would prefer some clothes, but it certainly wasn't bad feeling the King's muscles against his body.

Scales or not, Ja'far was still Ja'far, and curse or not, Sinbad would always be Sinbad.

For now, and into the future.