One will not attain everything he wishes for; the winds blow unlike what the ships wish for. However, whoever desires the top must sit up many nights.
Pairing: Sinbad (Magi) x Reader
Summary: Despite being enslaved by the Mariadel company at a young age and made to be a colosseum keeper, you have never witnessed a single battle between gladiators. But it all changed when the mighty dungeon capturer: Sinbad, arrived for a duel in exchange for his company's liberty. A battle that resulted in a series of events that would either lead everyone to freedom or further suffering.
Content Warnings: Manga SPOILERS, Slavery (specifically child slavery), depictions of violence, mentions of blood and rotten flesh, along with injury infliction as punishment.
DISCLAIMER: This fanfic is not a means to romanticize nor water down the severity of slavery. Although the source may be fictional, those horrific events have happened and most likely still happen in real life.
The gorgeous dividers are from @angeliicide
PART 1: The Colosseum
You remember your father telling you this once: “No matter how much perfume you put on, it will never mask the dead body.” You were merely three years old at that time. The more you think about it, that metaphor was most likely a thought that slipped out of his mind, not intended for your still-developing brain. Yet, those words stuck with you as you grew up. How could it not, if it perfectly describes the current state you were in?
Rotten flesh and aged blood. You’ve become desensitized to such gruesome sights; granted, it’s something you were made to deal with for more than half your life by now. Just months after you were enslaved by the Mariadel Company, you were made to clean up the dead remains from the colosseum as one of the forms of behavioral correction methods enforced on you by Madeer.
When Madeer realized you performed quite well in such a task, she decided to give you the duty of a colosseum keeper. From cleaning up carcasses to weapon maintenance, you took part in it. The work was taxing, especially since your body has not properly met its needs for many years now. But cleaning up bodily fluids and exposed viscera for you is subjectively better than having to actively engage in the actual slave handling that the others, such as Fatima, were doing.
Having to be part of the individuals who have to take care of the aftermath from brutal spectacles made you develop a deep sense of aversion towards violence in general. Luckily, witnessing each fight was not made mandatory for you; only having you come out once the performance had ended, and the crowd fully dissipated.
Until one day, he arrived.
Lady Madeer seemed elated. You were walking towards the armory when she came across your path—stepping aside and bowing your head in greeting, trying your best to muffle your breathing. Thankfully, she ignored you. Yet, the subtle excitement in every stride of hers did not go unnoticed by you.
You didn’t know whether it was due to a successful transaction, or if she managed to finally turn Masrur into her “child”. Just the thought of the young boy surrendering to Madeer’s whims aroused a surge of panic within you.
Once the lady was out of sight, you hurried to where Masrur usually stayed as fast as your shackled feet allowed you. Upon arrival, you saw him performing his physical training routine. Sensing someone, he paused for a moment to see who it was. When he realized it was you, he fully stopped his routine, his posture easing when you went near him.
Since you were still winded from rushing all the way to where Masrur was, each breath took you a lot more effort than you already had to. Of course, Masrur saw the way you were clasping your chain collar; a futile attempt for relief on your part.
His face may not show it, but the way he led you to a bench to sit down showed that he truly cared. He also couldn’t help it as he noticed the way you would seemingly try to shift your weight from one foot to the other while walking.
When your breathing finally stabilized, you gave Masrur a cheeky grin. His blank expression remained, apart from the slight tremble of his lips.
“You still can’t breathe properly.” Your grin morphed into an awkward smirk at his bluntness. Letting out a hoarse huff, you playfully shoved Masrur with your shoulder; naturally, he didn’t budge.
The two of you spent a couple of minutes sitting on the bench, with you occasionally playing with Masrur's hair. When the boy looked down, he noted that apart from your chains clasped tighter than they usually did, your feet were also bandaged up again.
He pondered how you could have gotten the injuries while you were busy playing with his hair, blissfully unaware of his scrutinizing gaze. It took him a few moments before he realized. Madeer must have punished you again. He knew you had always been defiant. It was luck that the lady decided you were worth keeping alive.
Realizing that quite some time had passed. Masrur moved away from you.
“I need to continue my training. Madeer said I will be fighting someone new.” His back was facing you as he said so.
Understanding the young fanalis, you huffed in agreement. You mustered up strength to stand up, enduring the burning sensation you felt on your sole once it received pressure.
You left the room, relieved to know that your Masrur stayed true to his pride and safe from Madeer’s control. However, that feeling did not last long since just a few steps away from the entry, the boy called out your name.
When you turned to look back, you could tell Masrur wanted to say something. Tilting your head to the side, you waited for him to speak.
“Madeer said I will be fighting someone in a few days. She said he was someone strong.” Despite knowing he could end up battling against a strong adversary, Masrur remained composed.
That took your senses off the searing pain you were feeling. Concern flooded you, your mind playing countless scenarios of your boy getting hurt by another gladiator.
“But Madeer told me I should restrain myself when fighting him. Rather than killing, she said I should just knock him down.”
The idea of subduing rather than eliminating perplexed you. This means Madeer is planning something. That could have been the reason for her upbeat mood when you encountered her.
Sensing Masrur had nothing else to say, you gave him a small wave before walking away, the clanking of your shackles echoing throughout the hallway. He waited until you disappeared into a corner before returning to his chamber.
You walked until you reached one of the main entry and exit points of the Colosseum that led to the pulvinar. It was a special boxed seat reserved for Lady Madeer. Letting your eyes linger on the throne-like furniture, your mind clouded by the implications of Masrur’s words.
Author's Note: The reason I wanted to write this fic is that I wanted to dig deeper into Sinbad's character during that arc. I also wanted to expand on the vulnerability shown during that time, which was very compelling and shows us what kind of person he is. Making it an "x reader" was just an helpful means for me to do so.
ever since you were kids, he’s had a way of getting under your skin, picking fights, throwing smug grins like daggers, showing up wherever you were just to bother you. and you? you always gave it right back. rough words, rolled eyes, maybe even a bucket of water to the face once or twice. you were frenemies, through and through.
except, somehow, somewhere along the way… things changed.
he still showed up at your side out of nowhere. still annoyed you on purpose. but now, he lingered. sat in the kitchen while you cleaned up after dinner. leaned against the wall while you folded laundry. pulled you into quiet conversations on nights when the palace felt too cold and big.
and you let him stay.
you never noticed how his teasing shifted. how he started complimenting you in his own strange way. how he trained more often, sparring shirtless with the hope that you’d say something—anything—about the way his abs looked. you never did.
“you know,” he said one day, casually spinning his staff while watching you sweep, “most people would be impressed by me by now.”
you glanced up. “oh yeah? why?”
he smirked. “have you seen my abs lately?”
you gave him a once-over. “i just figured you were finally tired of me being stronger than you.”
he choked. “what?! no?! that’s not why—”
you walked past him with a smile.
he tried other things too. bringing you your favorite fruit when he passed the market. pretending to hate a song just so you’d teach him the lyrics. sitting beside you during breaks, so close your shoulders brushed.
you always laughed him off. assumed it was just his way of being annoying with a little extra sugar.
but one afternoon, when the palace was quiet and golden light filled the halls, he found you dozing off against the wall, broom still in hand. and something in his chest pulled.
he knelt down, careful not to wake you. his hand hovered near yours, just barely brushing your fingers.
“you’re seriously impossible,” he whispered, voice soft. “but i think i like you anyway.”
you stirred a little, eyes blinking open. “judar?”
he froze. “i wasn’t gonna kiss you.”
you squinted at him. “…okay?”
“…unless you wanted me to.”
you smiled, sleepy and warm and completely unbothered. “maybe.”
judar blinked. “wait. really?”
you reached for his hand. “maybe.”
and that was it. no explosions. no dramatic declarations.
just you, leaning your head on his shoulder, and judar grinning like an idiot.
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