Sinbad was hopelessly drunk. He'd lost count after the 12th drink and since then the world was spinning upside down and burst with an explosion of vivid lights. He had also lost count of the number of women he swept into his arms and danced euphorically with. Usually around this time Ja'far would be dragging him back to his private chambers to settle down for the night, but the chancellor was weighed down tonight by a heap of important paperwork, so the king was free to his own pleasurable device during the celebration of the slaying of a southern sea creature. Sharrkhan had been quick to dice the three headed trout like monster into a bounty of fillets, and now everyone in the kingdom of Sindria was dining, dancing, and drinking. Sinbad felt the warmth of happiness and pride burn inside him like a blazing inferno. It was so amazing to see the fruits of his determination blossom so greatly.

As the Sindrian king went back to the table for another swig of wine, he crashed into a woman who stumbled backward.

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry! I didn't see you there, Gorgeous." He offered a hand and the woman hesitated for a moment but then accepted. He pulled her up and thoughtlessly brought her in against his chest.

He examined her closer and took note of her extremely flat-chest, but was otherwise enormously impressed by her thick ebony hair that spilled below her ankles in a smooth cascade. She was barefoot, and had rather slender feet, her ankles and arms adorned with gold and silver bracelets and chains that jingled and clang together with every small movement she made. The woman wore traditional dancing clothes that left the stomach visible, and she also donned a golden tasseled veil that left her deep crimson eyes, heavily decorated with a smoky shadow, the only facial feature to be seen. Her pants and top were as black as her hair and were a filmy, flowing material that accentuated the way her body arched and curved with the music.

She remained silent as she wrapped her fingers around Sinbad's own and lead him to the crowd of swaying dancers. Sinbad followed obediently, intrigued by the quiet seductress and her unmatched beauty. It never occurred to him to ask her name or introduce himself- she probably knew who he was doubtless. He pressed a hand against her mid-back and took her right hand within his other, as she laced her fingers in his and draped her free hand on his shoulder.

The music began to quicken and the crowd was already trickling away from the duet in curiosity to see their king dance with such a mysterious beauty. They dipped and molded with each other as if it were something natural to both, something ingrained within them. Sinbad lifted his arm and the woman twirled in place, a graceful display of delicate spiraling cloth and trinkets.

Her jewelry rattled and jangled as she stepped elegantly, carefully measuring where to place each dainty foot. Sinbad rocked to the beat of the music and evenly matched her pace. The woman moved like a cat-she was flawless in her skills.

Sinbad combed a hand through her thick obsidian locks. She locked her crimson gaze with his amber eyes and a burst of heat shot into his cheeks. Like a striking cobra, the woman pulled him close to her, lifted her veil ever so slightly, and crushed her soft lips against his. He tightly embraced her back and deepened the kiss, penetrated her mouth with his tongue in a passionate haze and savored the taste of her. She was sweet. So sweet, like a blend of exotic fruits and vanilla. The sweetest thing he ever had the opportunity to try. She nipped his lower lip and sucked the blood, wrenching a pleasurable moan from Sinbad. He slid his mouth to her neck and bit playfully, teasingly, then pressed against her mouth again, felt himself becoming hard with excitement.

He wanted to freeze that moment, to be trapped in that moment just a little longer, but it was but a transitory frame in time, and when the woman gently broke from the kiss, he found himself on the ground. Everything was spinning, whirling, and darkness crept in around the edges of his vision, until the world was smothered in complete darkness and he was plunged into sleep.

Judal sat atop a tree branch, turning a plump peach over in his hand out of habit and boredom. Kougyoku, the 8th Imperial Princess of the Kou Empire, walked beneath the tree and peered up at the Magi.

"Judal-chan, what's that bruise on your neck? It looks painful."

He took a bite of his peach. "Huh? Whaddaya mean, old hag?" he jumped down and strode to the pond to examine himself in the water.

His face flushed as red as his eyes and he stomped his feet in anger. His hands clenched into fists and the peach was reduced to a heap of mush, its liquid dribbling into the water.

"That- that idiot king!"