She never knew him when he was all bright, when there was nothing but white rukh and he shone with the light of a freshly born sun. Once, she imagined, he’d held a similar untainted purity to Aladdin when they had first met. A glittering star field in his eyes and the dreams of a child in his heart.

But it has been a long, long time since he shone that brightly, and she never knew him like that.

Others did though. Hinahoho will reminisce when he’s drunk enough of the days when he knew a boy of all but fourteen with the determination of a fifty man army and the wit of an alley cat. Drakon, if you catch him in the right mood at the right moment, will tell stories of a boy with dreams so impossibly lofty you couldn’t help but dream with him and follow in his stead.

Even Ja’far has tales to tell, of foolish bravery and endless sacrifice in the name of his dreams. And in the end, every time, they smile and tell you that he has achieved it all because here now stands the country he sought to build. Here is his triumph.

And yet, if you’re looking closely, into their eyes in the half light of fading dusk, you’ll see even for a moment the tinge of sadness, of worry, of fear, that will cross their faces. For a split second their words will seem hollow and they will seem far away, and then they will come back to themselves and it will be like it never happened.

But just for a moment.

Ame wonders sometimes if the glimmering path that so many follow, that leads them to Sinbad, is not as seamlessly golden as it once was. Where feet had trodden on flaked gold, did they now instead merely walk a mirror, reflecting burning firelight? He still shone, but it was not the sparkle of a distant star, more the flickering white light of a flame so hot the sight alone may blind you.

Many would say that were better, but Ame was not so sure.

Time changes all people. Through experiences we grow and evolve, no one is ever as pure in the end as they were to begin with. Some never have a chance, like Judal. Some cling, desperately, to the innocence they once had until finally they cast it away, aware they can never regain it, like Hakuryuu. Some are pure of heart, but not as light as they once had been, like Alibaba, like Aladdin. Some accept that they can never be as they were, and can only be as they will become, like her.

She wonders sometimes when he began to give in, when he began to allow his stars to be consumed by the emptiness of space. If she asked, Ame thinks Sinbad will tell her that he has merely gifted his stars away. To his subjects, to his people, to his dreams.

She met him, and his stars still shone around him. Not as bright, not as many, somehow dulled from radiance to a mere glitter but they were there.

Now she sees him and there are no stars. There are torchlights in the darkness, and they begin to flicker out behind you the closer you roam.

As close as she’s gotten, Ame wonders how to traverse the void that stretches behind her, and if she dares get any closer, what will come when the final torch snuffs out.

It’s hard to say if he can tell that she is aware of the change in him, because he acts as if there’s nothing different at all. He kisses her just the same, first lifting her peony locks to his lips and then carrying the gesture to her mouth, hidden in shrouded corners of the palace and beneath the shade of courtyard trees. His hands find the same places on her body to linger or hold, and he courts her just as he has since she turned sixteen, with luxurious words and promises that tell of things that most wouldn’t dare to dream.

They don’t seem any emptier now, but when he promises her a throne and all the comforts she could desire, she begins to wonder how he expects to come upon them.

Once she had almost been taken in, like the others, by his golden path that led to a promised land. Not because he offered her riches, power, a home in his kingdom. Because it had been him, and she had thought, for a time, that maybe she could learn to live in such bright floodlights, if they remained side by side. If she woke beside him every morning and went to sleep in his arms, then perhaps they could share this gilded way that he walked.

But Ame had never known him when he was bright, when he was more than candles lit with white flames in a slowly covering darkness. She had blinked her eyes and seen the true nature of the things he offered, the path he walked now, and though she wondered how it had once been…

                                                                               “Well done, Sinbad. Another awe-inspiring performance.”

Rashid smiled at his young pupil as he wiped sweat off his brow, casting a look over his shoulder at the arena he’d just left. Sinbad flashed him one of his winning grins, pleased with himself as usual, then looked back to the arena a second time. The king cocked a brow.

It wasn’t unusual for Sinbad to want to return to the stage for an encore. He’d grown to love people’s praise and attention, and even young as he was he could already command their gazes with precision and grace. This time however, there was something wistful in his expression that had not been there before.

“Something on your mind, Sinbad?”

His shoulders jumped with surprise, whirling around as if he’d just been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He relaxed, though, smiling again, this time sheepishly.

“Yes but it’s nothing important.” he assured lightly.

“You certainly seem to be distracted by it. Tell me?”

“Aah, it’s nothing to do with being a merchant—You’d probably laugh if I said it.”

Rashid tilted his head, now more curious than ever. He did not ask again, but Sinbad read his expression well enough. He chuckled, sounding embarrassed, and a pink tint rose on his cheeks that had nothing to do with the sun he’d just been out in.

“Truthfully… The past few performances, there’s been someone in the crowd. A girl… She’s got the loveliest hair I’d ever seen, it’s like flowers! And she always pays such close attention to my tale…”

Sinbad laughed again, clapping a hand to the back of his head to muss his own hair.

“Really, I think I’ve fallen for her a little bit! She smiles whenever we look at each other and I almost lost my place in the story today. That kind of distraction probably isn’t a good thing, neh?”

The young merchant’s chortles were meant to offset his embarrassment, but his expression fell when his teacher didn’t respond. He had expected some sort of assurance that, yes, he was being a bit foolish with his feelings, but instead the king had a far off look in his eye.

Rashid’s mind drifted to olive skin and dark hair falling down the curve of a woman’s back. A laugh he could have listened to for hours, and eyes of bright, sunshine yellow. It had been years since he’d held her, or even seen her face, but he could still remember how it had felt to link their fingers together and tell her he loved her. He could still taste the regret of losing her in the back of his mouth.

“…Well, what are you doing here, Sinbad?”

“Eh?”

The king smiled, crossing his arms and giving his student a lightly disapproving look.

“Go after her. You’ve just finished, so she’s probably still in the crowd getting ready to leave. If you hurry, you’ll catch her before she goes.”

Sinbad blinked, clearly startled.

“M-Master do you really think I should—?” he stammered, only to be stopped by a single nod from his teacher.

“Even if it’s just fleeting, it’s worse to go on letting your heart wonder how things would be different if you had acted. You’re young, and living with that sort of regret will only occur to you far later in life. Go, talk to her, Sinbad.”

For a moment, the young man just stood stunned, then he bounced up to his full height and bowed.

“I will! Thank you, Master, I’ll meet with you later!”

He was up and gone by the time the last words left his mouth, darting back out into the arena and towards the stands. Rashid watched him go with a bemused smile, already expecting not to see his pupil until the next day. He had a feeling he’d be indisposed.

To his right, his guard tilted his head forward slightly.

“…My lord, that was some very lenient advice.” he noted quietly. “Did it have anything to do with…?”

Rashid smiled, and his guard fell silent.