Thalassophile (Young!Sinbad x reader) Sinbad No Bouken
Summary: Moving to Tison village was never a noel girls dream, neither was meeting a young boy with both a passion for adventure and at drawing people in. You thought the beginning of your life had ended long ago, but truth be told it starts here, and it starts now.
Warnings: Mentions of abuse, abuse and poor health
“So come all you pretty maids, whoever that you be, who love a jolly sailor bold, that ploughs the raging sea.”
Chapter: Four
Volume 1 Chapter 4 : Precious lessons
After a rather eventful morning, you returned home with the guidance of Strous who eventually left you to your own devices after he realized you weren’t in the mood for his interrogation's; He would most likely carry them out later instead, or leave it for good if he didn’t think your mother would find out.
You took a bath, making sure you were clean from head to toe before you walking towards your lavish garden. It was humongous, especially since it was situated a good distance away from Tison village surrounded by woodland. Trees encased your home like knight’s guarding it’s queen, and every so often a squirrel would scutter across the ground before disappearing into emerald shrubbery.
Rather ungracefully you plonked down onto the grass, sighing in bliss as the small strands tickles your bare feet. You would have giggled if you did not feel so forlorn. Why did betrayal always feel like a blade in the back? Why couldn’t it just feel like a small prick to the finger from a needle? At least that way it would be easier to forget about. But no. From mothers, to citizen’s, to newly met purple haired sailors. There was always a twist around the corner, a twirl beyond the ravine. No matter the lengths traveled, you always seem to end up right back to where you started.
Alone. Surrounded by no one.
Trying not to focus on the impending doom seeping into your skin you pulled out your sketch book, eyes glaring at the white pages tainted in metallic grey and spiteful strokes.
“Nothing is eternal about war Miss Bedivere.” The way Sinbad spat out your title reminded you of the sound of nails scraping down a chalk board, or the pain of a mother’s slap to the cheek. But worst of all, it reminded you of the dwindling hope that you might have made a friend. Someone to laugh with, someone to cry with, someone to trust. And that’s when it clicked.
A sad smile forced its way into your otherwise neutral face, tears of agony filling your eyes. How embarrassing.
“What a poor little noble girl I am.” A quiet, pitiful wail slipped through your lips as you mocked yourself. “The little rich girl has no friends. What a shame...” Strous was never your friend, not truly. He cared for you deeply yes, and if one watched from the surface you could be considered to have trust in one another. But it was to an extent. His career came first. His pride, honor, future. You respected that. Life was hard. You’d never met anyone who could ride through it like a fish in the ocean. Except him. Except Sinbad. It seemed like he had everything figured out and the way he carried himself was so interesting. In your old village everyone was the same as you. Getting along for the sake of getting along. But Sinbad the sailor. It really seemed like he wanted to get through to you...Angrily you pulled out a pencil from your pocket, harshly connecting the thin sheet of paper with the sharp edge.
You sketched the first thing that came to mind and that seemed to be Sinbad’s face. His every curve, imperfection. Making sure every shade was in league with the way the sun sparkled on his stupidly beautiful face. It felt like second nature to be seeing him. Did he have this effect on everyone? Why did you want to follow him so badly? He seemed like he was going to do something great with his life; Though that didn’t stop you from feeling foolish, as if you were stalking him like a secret Parthevia spy.
You don’t know how long you sat there for. Point of your pencil sweeping viciously against the page as you let out a flurry of mixed emotions rip through your body. You were a storm. Feeling ready to strike. But eventually, calm does reach the storm. It wasn’t until you finished that the sounds of object’s clacking on wooden floor rang through your ears. Strous must have been rearranging the furniture. It brought you back to reality, and suddenly your weeping eyes met Sinbad grey orbs. This moment gave you time to ponder on earlier event’s. It gave you time to build a new wall around yourself.
At the end of the day, Sinbad was just a person. A person who threatened your family name. Surely friendship didn’t matter, not above family. By now all you wanted was to keep your pride. It’s all you had left despite how little left there was.
Not bothering to tell Strous you were leaving, you began striding through Tison village with one thing in your mind and one thing only; Find out about this revolt Sinbad was so keen on keeping within the village. The sooner you found the evidence against Sinbad the sooner the government would catch him in its net and let it wriggle around and die like a fish; fitting end for a sailor it seemed.
Thump
Turning on your heels, hair landing softly on your back, a short gasp escaped from your mouth. “Are you alright?” Your feet were moving before you fully assessed the situation. By the time you made it towards the commotion you were kneeling down by a women with black braided hair, picking up the jug of water she had dropped before falling.
“Oh yes.” Her eyes were kind, even when she recognized who you were she never faltered. She smiled, though it was a tired smile. “Thank you, but I really am fine.” The older women was shaking, her face deadly pale. “But. If you wouldn’t mind. I could really use some help.”
“O-of course.” Who were you to deny a sickly soul some help? The mission could wait until a bit later. It’s not like it would take long to carry this jug back to her house. After she was stood to her feet, you extended a hand and she did the same. While yours were soft and plump, a sign of a well fed girl who has been through little labor in her life, her’s were bony and calloused. Luck was on your side when pulling out the lottery of life it seemed. “My title is Lady Bedivere, but you can call me (name) if you like...” It was hard not to feel sympathy for this woman who shook hands with you politely.
“My name is Esra. It’s lovely to meet you (name).” It felt so foreign to hear your name on somebody else’s tongue. It was nice.
As expected, it didn't take long at all to get back to Esra’s house but the time was very much treasured by you. She was the sweetest woman you had ever met in your entire life. Everything that left her mouth was either a witty joke or a compliment in regards to yourself. There was moment’s you almost doubled over with laughter when carrying the water. However, the most notable moment you shared with Esra was when you asked her about her husband.
“Do you not have a husband to help you? Or is he away in the war?” You wouldn’t have brought it up if you didn't spot her wedding ring. A somber look soon over took Esra’s face before she softly shook her head.
“My husband’s name was Badr. He came back a war hero yet didn’t take a penny to his name. Then he left to go back to the war by force and this time died a war hero. Hero was the last thing he thought of himself as. Badr always prided himself on a husband and father before anything else. Watching him leave was the hardest thing I think I ever did. And I did it twice.” She laughed after that. Then changed the subject. Even though Esra insisted you stayed for dinner you politely declined. You had food at home, and she needed all the food she could get in such dire times.
“Goodbye Esra!” Both of you said your goodbyes to one another before you shut the door to her humble house. You were expecting to see citizens walking around and going about their day. Not to be greeted with the face of a boy only centimeters from your own. That boy being Sinbad out of everyone. “Sinbad!” You squeaked, sinking into the wooden entry way behind you. “What are you doing here? His face was truly a picture. He was completely dumbfounded for a few seconds before he took in a sharp intake of breath.
“This is my house.” Now it was your turn to look dumbfounded, and before you knew it your mission you set off on this morning was already completed in a way. Sinbad wanted to revolt against the war because his father died fighting it. “Nothing is eternal about was Miss Bedivere.” He lived those words, breathed them everyday of his life.
“Oh right.” Awkwardly you shuffled out the way of the door and started to walk away, but before you could leave entirely, you swallowed the last of what she wanted to keep. “And Sinbad...I’m sorry about your father.” With your pride now completely drained both you and Sinbad stood staring each other out. He could see the remorse and guilt in your eyes, and not long his own held the same expression.
“Thank you Miss Bedivere.”
Part one. Part two. Part three.
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