#katsulevicollab | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jayeray-hq · 3 years ago

Text

A Diamond in the Rough (Part 1)

Hey everyone! This is my part for the Once Upon a Dream Collab that was with @katsuverse and @juicykatsuki. The theme of the collab was Disney x Haikyuu crossovers so if you're interested check it out!

I'm a little late, I fell asleep last night and forgot to post, but here it is! I also decided to break this up into three maybe even four parts, because we're already 10K+ for this part and only maybe a third of the way through. I hope you all enjoy it regardless, and I'll be posting the next parts (hopefully) soon!

If you like this feel free to check out my Oikawa Tooru Masterlist!

While there is no smut in this part there will be in the future thus this story is 18+ minoris DNI please!

TW: Mentions of prostitution, poverty, starvation, hurt children, the consequences of the Aladdin equivalent of growing up in the medieval slums, disease, hidden gender, brief mentions of rape and domestic abuse, (nothing in depth, but readers please if you’re sensitive to those issues proceed with caution)

warning about Jafar, because he deserves his own warning, mentions of murder, gaslighting, manipulation, and general sleaziness because like Aladdin’s Jafar he has a thing for “princess Jasmine”

This story is fem!Reader x Oikawa, but there will be mentions of other pairings as Oikawa is pansexual in this story!

“You know things would be much easier for you if you’d just come and join us here,” your friend told you as she carefully bandaged up your fingers, “You’re certainly comely enough, once we got you cleaned up a bit, and we always have full bellies, we get nice presents and a place to rest our heads. There would be no more of this suffering for you.”

“Except I’d open myself up to a whole new type of suffering,” you told her knowingly, gently touching her face where you could see the shadow of a bruise forming on her jaw, “And I wouldn’t be able to fight back.”

Hana winced slightly, but said nothing to contradict your statement, quietly biting her lip, clear worry in her pretty cinnamon brown eyes. The two of you had been friends since you were very young, running around the streets together from the time you could walk. She’d been your neighbor, living with her sickly grandmother just next door.

Both your caretakers had died of a disease that had swept through the city and you’d been quickly and ruthlessly evicted from your former home. With no one else to rely on you’d stuck together through the years, two orphan girls out scavenging to survive.

Your mother had been a prostitute, one who’d done her best to take care of you up until she’d died of that awful disease when you were five. You didn’t remember much about her these days, nothing except for a soft voice and the shade of her hair, but you did remember just how rough she’d had it.

You might’ve been young, but you’d had no choice but to hear what happened to her, as you were forced to hide away in a small closet every time she had a client over into the small one room apartment the two of you had shared. You remembered her crying, and the quiet vow you’d made to yourself to never ever be like her no matter what. Anything else had to be better than that.

It was a thought that had only been reinforced as you grew up and saw how prostitutes were treated, used, abused and thrown away at the whims of their clients. The lucky ones, the ones with the looks to draw higher class clientele, belonged to houses like Hana, run by a Madam who enforced the rules, but even those were lax at times depending on how valuable the client was.

Living on the streets, running errands, performing the odd job where you could, and stealing from stands you knew could afford it to make up the difference wasn’t all that great either. For one thing you’d learned after a brief scare when you were much younger that it was much safer to be male than female, because the crueler hardened men who roamed the streets, especially at night, wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of a lone woman on her own.

Acquiring a proper binder for your breasts, and learning to walk, talk and act like a man had become a necessity to protect yourself. However, masquerading as a man had its downsides as well, most obviously that quiet, vicious, fighting over things like food and what little money another street rat might have were prominent and no one would go easy on a man. It also meant the few times you’d had to run away from the guards you’d gotten roughed up a bit, even if you got away in the end, which was unfortunately what had happened today.

You’d gotten good enough at stealing throughout the years to almost always slip away without notice. Unfortunately the vendor you were nicking the bread from had sneezed and bumped into you at just the wrong moment. He’d immediately cottoned on to your light fingers, shouting about a thief.

You’d managed to lead the guards on a merry chase, using the rooftops and your knowledge of the backstreets of the city to lose them, though not without a few tumbles and scrapes. The worst part was you hadn’t even gotten the chance to enjoy the fruits of your labors.

You’d sat down, fully intending to eat your meal when you’d heard a small sound nearby. It hadn’t taken you long to spot the children, young enough you couldn’t spot their gender at a glance, rummaging through the trash outside one of the restaurants in the area. It was one of the few that wouldn’t give a street rat a smack or try to detain them for the guards if they caught them, the owner more tenderhearted than most. However, it was also a very good restaurant, with a very frugal owner who rarely ever had leftovers or any waste at the end of the day.

Looking at the two children you’d been reminded of yourself and Hana from back when the two of you had just started on the streets, scuttling like the rats you were named after from alley to alley hoping to avoid the attention of the guards and anyone else who might hurt you, desperately searching for food.

You’d ended up handing over your ill-gotten gains to the wide-eyed children, and given them directions to a nearby street vendor you knew of who often gave away scraps to children. It wasn’t much, but it was all you could do for them, especially as you were barely able to keep yourself fed and alive.

The nostalgia you’d felt at seeing the children had led your feet to the brothel where Hana was working. You’d come at a good time, and your ever-worried friend had quickly ushered you inside, insisting on feeding you a bit of her own dinner and bandaging you up a bit before you left.

Despite your feelings on prostitution for yourself, you’d never resented your friend for making the choice when it was offered to her, and had even encouraged her to go for it if that was what she truly wanted. Street life had always been much harder on her than on you, as she’d never quite been able to pull off the boyish act that you did, and wasn’t nearly as tough or scrappy.

That wasn’t to say she couldn’t hold her own if she needed to, there was no one else you’d trust to have your back in a fight like her, but she didn’t enjoy it. It left her out of sorts and paranoid for days on end. Being scouted out for a brothel was probably one of the best things that could’ve happened for her, and one of the few things a street rat could do to get out of the streets, you just wished there was something more you could do.

The sound of bugles in the street caught you off guard, and both you and Hana turned toward the window. This particular brothel was high class enough that it was on the main thoroughfare that led straight from the city entrance to the Sultan’s palace. It meant a lot of visiting lords often passed by.

The girls of the brothel immediately rushed forward, no doubt hoping to both see and maybe catch the attention of someone in the party. You’d fully intended to hang back, but found yourself dragged forward by Hana who was surprisingly strong for her size and vicious as she elbowed her fellows out of the way.

It meant you got a good view to watch the procession as it meandered into view. There were several palanquins and mounted guards, along with servants driving camel pulled carts that no doubt carried their luggage. It was huge and extravagant, every single person dressed in finery, even the clothing of the servants and guards far better than even the merchants in the middle area of town.

They were clearly putting on some kind of show, both for those of you who were watching, and for the sultan. You’d heard rumors that his son Prince Tooru was searching for a bride, and wondered if maybe one of the palanquins held a potential candidate. Word on the street was that he was rejecting everyone who came to him out of hand, claiming none were good enough despite how beautiful they were or how much was offered in their dowry.

“Look, it’s the prince of Shiratorizawa!” Hana hissed, elbowing you in the side and pointing to a man who was riding at the front of the column, letting out a breathy sigh as she identified him, “Ushijima Wakatoshi.”

The man would’ve looked more like a guard or soldier with his build, which was utterly enormous and heavy with muscle, if not for the finery he was wearing. Everything was rich embroidered silks, and he had heavy gold collar around his neck along with a few rings whose gems you could almost see sparkling from where you were stood they were so large.

He was rather handsome, if austere looking, his face practically carved from marble as he glanced around at the cheering citizens who were welcoming him as they gathered in the streets seemingly unbothered by the commotion. The horse he rode on was huge, and pure white with a silvery mane, its saddle trimmed in expensive purple cloth that no doubt cose a fortune.

He was surrounded by several retainers, one of whom had the brightest red hair you’d ever seen, and another whose hair you could swear was an unnatural shade of silver. You probably would’ve kept on watching, letting the ruckus pass you by, except movement from the crowd caught your eye.

You recognized the man moving through the crowd as one of the nastier shopkeepers. Yasir was the type to set out food seemingly for street rats to take as an elaborate trap before dragging them to the guards. Normally you wouldn’t interfere, as you’d learned early on that sticking your neck out for anyone would only get you burned, but you recognized the person being dragged along as one of the children you’d seen earlier. They were identifiable even from a distance because of the rust orange wrap they had tied around their head.

Your heart, which you tried to keep iced over in order to keep from bleeding for every poor street rat kid you came across, throbbed painfully, and you were halfway out the window before you’d even really thought about it. You paused however, when the kid proved to be more scrappy than you would’ve guessed. You couldn’t see what exactly it was they did, but it forced the cruel old merchant to let go.

It probably would’ve been fine if the kid had chosen any other direction to run in, but unfortunately, they’d chosen to run right for the street, just ahead of where the prince and his party were going to pass. Your body was moving before you’d even really processed what was happening, barely registering Hana’s shout of alarm as you leapt into the crowd, slipping through with the ease of long experience.

You managed to break through just in time to see the kid take a tumble right in front of the Shiratorizawa Prince’s horse. The proud, enormous creature immediately balked, rearing and flailing its dangerous hooves, shouts of alarm echoing through the crowd and from Ushijima’s retainers, though whether they were worried about the prince or the child you couldn’t tell.

Heedless of the danger you leapt forward, managing to snag the kid and dodge the horse’s flailing hooves, getting both of you out of the way and to the other side of the street. The crowd parted, more to avoid being even remotely associated with you then to let you through, but you were grateful nonetheless as you took the kid’s hand and pulled them through the labyrinth of buildings, hoping to shake any pursuers and then dodged into an alleyway to catch your breath.

“You alright kid?” you asked to your charge who was staring up at you with huge eyes.

They nodded slowly, a wary glint in them that told you they’d been on the street long enough to know not to trust just anyone, even if they’d done you a favor, maybe even especially not if they’d done you a favor. The sound of rapid footsteps alerted you to the presence of another, and you turned, just in time to see the other kid who’d been with them barrel into the alleyway, a small knife in hand.

You were honestly impressed they’d managed to follow you through the twists and turns you’d taken through the alleyways, especially since you hadn’t seen them in the crowd during your initial rush to save their friend. The kid glanced between the two of you, clearly willing to launch themselves at you if you showed the slightest hint of hostility towards either of them.

“Relax kid,” you told them, holding your hands out in a peaceful gesture, “I’m not going to hurt you, or your little friend here, in fact if you’ll move to the side there I fully intend to leave now.”

“Why?” the kid with the knife demanded, brandishing it at you.

“Because I’m bigger and more experienced then you and if you attack me I’ll kick your ass,” you told them bluntly, deliberately misinterpreting the question as you leveled a glare at the kid.

“I mean why did you help us?” the kid clarified, still brandishing the knife as they eyed you suspiciously.

You heaved a sigh and darted forward faster than the kid could react knocking the knife from their hands easily, twisting their wrist up behind their back in a hold you knew from experience they wouldn’t be able to escape. The kid wriggled furiously, cursing up a storm, and you raised an eyebrow, impressed by the language they’d picked up, but as you predicted they were nowhere near strong enough to get free of your grip.

“Please,” the kid you’d saved pleaded eyes darting between you and their friend as they bowed low, “Please, please, don’t hurt her!”

“Her huh?” you asked, both surprised and not. The more you interacted with the kid the more you were reminded of yourself. Both kids froze, horror taking over the face of the one you could see as they realized they’d slipped.

“I suggest being a little more circumspect with that information in the future,” you scolded lightly, as you set your foot down firmly on the knife and released the kid, shoving her toward her friend, “And not picking fights you can’t win, or else you won’t last long here.”

The kid stumbled but quickly got to her feet again, planting herself firmly between you and the other, who you were beginning to suspect was also female, leveling you with a rather impressive glare for a kid her size.

“Try to stab me in the back when I leave and I won’t be near as nice,” you warned, meaning it. You knew kids could be just as vicious as adults at that age, after all you certainly had been.

“You didn’t answer my question!” the girl demanded, as you turned to walk away though to her credit she didn’t move to follow, and there was a slightly plaintive note to her voice.

“Call it a whim,” you answered over your shoulder, “And because you reminded me of someone.”

Good deed accomplished you slipped away into the alleys, climbing up on to the rooftops. You didn’t actually move all that far away, instead pausing on one of the more open rooftops, absently fingering your own weapons, which were tucked away neatly into the sash on your waist as you demanded, “Is there a reason you’re following me?”

“Oya? How interesting,” the voice was smooth and rather cultured, and as you turned to get a look at the person who’d been stalking you, who’d arrived at the same time as the knife wielding kid, you had to do a double take.

You recognized him. It was hard not to what with that bright crimson hair, worn in sharp spikes that accentuated the sharpness of his face, with its high cheekbones, thin bladed nose, and sharp chin, though the most prominent feature was one you hadn’t been able to see at a distance earlier, a pair of ruby red eyes that were observing you with interest.

Even without his distinguishing features you still would’ve been able to tell he didn’t belong, decked out as he was in clothing that, while not as ostentatious as prince Wakatoshi’s, was still far too ostentatious for a normal person. He’d been at the prince’s side earlier, and it made you extremely wary, especially given the sword he was wearing strapped to his hip.

“You don’t look like an assassin,” the redhead told you, head tilting a bit like a curious bird’s.

“Assassin?” you asked, utterly appalled at the very idea. You may be a thief, and you had definitely gotten into fights that had ended someone’s life before, but that had always been in defense of yourself or Hana. Never had you even considered killing people for money, not even at your most desperate.

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s attempted to kill Waka-kun,” the redhead chirped, slowly circling you, forcing you to pivot with him as you absolutely refused to have him at your back. You gulped as you noted the familiar address for the prince, which told you he probably was of even higher standing than you’d first suspected.

A quick glance around showed the rooftops were mostly empty, and you were fairly sure you could escape if you ran, as you were far more familiar with the territory than he was. You’d just have to escape and lay low for a while. No doubt someone as important as he was would forget about a nameless street rat after a little while.

“Ah-ah,” the redhead scolded, a teasing note in his voice that made her incredibly wary, “Don’t go scurrying away just yet little street rat, or I’ll have to chase you down, and I don’t think either of us want that.”

“What do you want?” you asked suspiciously, well aware there was very little you could do in a situation like this one. Against someone who probably had quite a bit of training you wouldn’t stand a chance. Even if you did, it wouldn’t be a good idea. A street rat who ran away from a noble was one thing, but a street rat who injured one? They’d never stop hunting you down.

“No need to be so hostile,” he told you, his voice almost sing song, “I’m only curious. It’s not every day you see a street rat who behaves as nobly as you did, saving a small child from Waka-kun’s monster of a horse. Is it any wonder I’m interested?”

“I’m nothing interesting,” you informed him flatly, dread filling you at the thought of being ‘interesting’ to a noble, something you were sure wouldn’t end well for you, “You heard me before, it was a whim, nothing more nothing less.”

“Oh-ho! So you knew I was there did you? That makes you even more interesting!” he informed you, clearly delighted.

You cursed to yourself quietly wondering just what you could do to extricate yourself from this situation, which was becoming increasingly dangerous for you, wondering what foul deed you’d committed to deserve this.

“Don’t look so worried,” the man informed you, wagging a finger at you playfully, “I’m not going to hurt you ah… what’s your name by the way?”

You stared at him, keeping your mouth stubbornly shut. You had absolutely no intention of giving your name to a strange man, who had cornered you with unknown motivations.

“Don’t be like that!” he urged with a bright grin, “I’m harmless I promise! Here I’ll even go first I’m Satori Tendou!”

Your mind raced as you tried to figure out if you’d heard the name before. Unfortunately you hardly paid attention to the nobility of your own country, let alone the neighboring kingdoms. You lived in different worlds after all, so there was no real need for you to know.

“Your turn,” he prompted, watching you with eager eyes, making a ‘go ahead’ gesture with his hands.

“Terushima,” you told him bluntly, giving the name of one of Hana’s most frequent customers, hoping it was enough to get him to leave you alone.

“That’s an awfully strange name for a woman,” the crazy redhead, Tendou, told you an amused lilt in his voice that told you he didn’t believe you at all.

You froze in horror, a shiver of fear going through you despite the heat of the day and the sun beating down overhead as your hands dropped to your weapons. You had no idea how he knew that, because a quick check of your body proved you had all your disguise in place. However, you didn’t think it meant anything good for you.

“Now, now,” he scolded, his tone still light even as his eyes gleamed in triumph, “Didn’t I say? I’m not looking to hurt you. In fact I’ll cut you a deal. Give me your name, your real name and I’ll let you leave, since you don’t look like you’re enjoying this conversation as much as I am.”

You didn’t believe him, not for a second, but you didn’t have much of a choice either, instead gritting out, “Hana, my name is Hana.”

“Hmm interesting,” the redhead mused, his ruby eyes boring into your own as if he was trying to see right through to your soul. You held his gaze, doing everything you could not to flinch or give away that you’d lied to him once more. No way were you going to give this crazy noble your name, not if you could help it.

“Alright then Hana,” he said at last with a strange, mysterious smile, “This was a nice chat, but I really should be catching up with Waka-kun and the rest of the entourage. Let’s meet again someday okay?”

He gave you a fluttering wave, and leapt off the edge of the building, surprisingly nimble for a noble. You followed after, watching him from the edge of the rooftop, your entire body wound tighter than a spring until he disappeared out of sight. Even then you didn’t relax instead running in the opposite direction.

Paranoia meant you spent the rest of the afternoon dodging through alleyways, taking all the twists and turns you knew and sometimes doubling back just in case he’d tried to follow you again. It was utterly exhausting, and late at night before you finally managed to return to the space you’d claimed as yours.

It was an old abandoned loft, part of an derelict building on the outskirts of the slums. The only way to get up was to climb, using carefully concealed handholds and a rope ladder you kept tucked away in a safe spot. You let out a breath as you reached your place of safety, collapsing down against the cushions and rags you’d compiled over the years to make a fairly comfy nest.

The stress of the day made you unwilling to do much of anything, instead rolling over and taking advantage of the opening, which was the whole reason you’d chosen this particular spot in the first place. The wall had collapsed, leaving it open to the elements unless you covered it with the heavy canvas curtain you’d rigged up. It would’ve been too much of a nuisance for some, but for you it was completely and utterly worth it, simply for the view.

All you had to do was turn your head and you could look out over the entirety of the city, with the palace glimmering in the distance. It was one of the best views you’d ever found, and it always managed to make you feel at peace, something you desperately needed after the day you’d just had.

Looking out over the city, feeling your eyes droop as you realized you were finally safe and utterly exhausted from all the running around you’d done, you said a quiet prayer in the hopes that you and Satori Tendou would never, evermeet again before allowing yourself to fall into a deep, restful sleep.

“Tooru! Tooru!” a trilling voice called, interrupting his peace and making him cringe. He’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Iwa-chan, do something!” he hissed to his faithful companion, a Bengal Tiger he’d grown up with, hand raising it from a cub. The tiger in question raised his head to look at him, snorted in disgust and put his head back down again, clearly not bothered to do anything at all, let alone protect him. Not that he could blame him, his sister could be incredibly persistent and spiteful and was definitely not someone you wanted to cross.

“So this is where you were hiding away,” his sister Ayumi announced as she made her way into the pavilion where he’d been sitting.

“I haven’t been hiding,” he protested, but at a look from her quickly revised, “Okay so maybe I’ve been hiding but can you blame me? Who’d want to be forced to spend time with Ushiwaka?”

“One of these days you’re going to have to let that rivalry of yours go,” she scolded, though from the amused quirk of her lips he could tell she wasn’t entirely serious.

“Never,” he informed her with a hiss, irritated all over again at the thought of the stoic prince of Shiratorizawa.

As prince’s of neighboring kingdoms the two of them had, had several meetings over the years, including two consecutive years where they fostered in each other’s countries, Oikawa going to Shiratorizawa for a year and Ushijima coming to Aoba Johsai for a year. The two of them actually shared an interest in several things, which would’ve made most people think they’d get along quite well.

Unfortunately at their very first meeting the two princes had been learning to ride, and Oikawa, attempting to show off had managed to fall off his horse. Ushijima had made a simple comment about how his riding skill was clearly superior to Oikawa’s who’d taken extreme offense. From then on he’d tried to make Ushijima his rival in almost everything he did, from riding to etiquette, to parchisi anything was fair game.

Once in a while Oikawa could eke out a win over the other, especially if the contest involved strategy or charm as Ushijima tended to be extremely blunt and lacked some essential people skills. However, when it came to contests of athleticism or brute strength he always lost no matter what he tried. It was utterly infuriating.

Even worse, somewhere along the line Ushijima had apparently gotten it into his head that he liked Oikawa, and so was constantly trying to convince him to uproot himself from Aoba Johsai and come to Shiratorizawa, which was utterly infuriating. It wasn’t that he had anything against the country in particular, other than his intense dislike of Ushijima, but he loved his home country and would never dream of leaving it.

“You might have to get over that dislike of yours sooner rather than later,” his sister warned him, an amused lilt to her voice that made him extremely wary.

“Why should I?” he demanded petulantly.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe because he’s come courting and father is seriously considering his suit,” his sister told him nonchalantly, as if she hadn’t dropped an enormous bomb on him.

“That’s not funny!” he squawked indignantly, loud enough that Iwaizumi raised his head to glare at him for interrupting his nap.

“I’m not joking,” Ayumi countered, “It’s your own fault for saying you don’t like women.”

“That is not what I said,” he hissed at her indignantly, “I said I didn’t like the simpering pampered women mother kept trying to introduce to me.”

“That’s not what she heard,” Ayumi told him with a giggle, “Besides I thought you liked men? That’s what I told father when he asked, and the reason he’s been inviting all these foreign princes to visit you know.”

“I like both,” he corrected absently, before he processed the rest of her sentence and quickly objected, “But that’s not important! What do you mean that’s why he’s been inviting princes to visit?! I thought that was for diplomatic relations!”

“Is that what he told you?” Ayumi snickered meanly, looking far too amused at his appalling situation, “You should’ve known better Tooru, after all you only have a couple weeks left before your twenty-fifth birthday.”

He heaved a sigh at that, unable to keep the grimace off his face. It was tradition in the royal family to marry before they hit twenty-five, which was part of the reason that he’d had a seemingly endless parade of women, and now men apparently, brought before him in an attempt to find him a life partner. Unfortunately every single one of those people had clearly been looking to use him, for his status, wealth, or looks, which were some of the best the kingdom of Aoba Johsai had to offer in his own humble opinion.

And while he couldn’t necessarily blame them for that, he couldn’t bring himself to be satisfied with it either. He wanted someone who would love him for who he was, and not what he was. He wanted a partnership like his parents and sister had, not whoever happened to be most convenient.

Sadly he probably hadn’t dedicated as much time to searching for someone as he probably should have, and his twenty-fifth birthday had crept up on him without warning, leaving him scrambling as he tried to figure out what to do.

“I don’t see why I have to get married at all,” he told her petulantly, “It’s not like they need an heir, you’ve already taken care of that.”

“You know tradition dictates the crown goes to the oldest married male of the line first,” his sister pointed out reasonably, “Don’t you want to be sultan? I thought ruling was all you’d ever wanted.”

“Would it be worth it to rule if I end up being stuck in a miserable marriage for the rest of my life?” he asked moodily, sprawling back on to the rim of the fountain and turning his head to watch the water flow.

“You don’t know it will be miserable,” his sister pointed out, stepping closer and putting a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged her off, not in the mood for her attempts at comfort.

“How can it be anything but, if I’m not in love?” he responded, reaching out to slap the water angrily, earning a disgruntled look from Iwaizumi as it splashed on to his face.

“I’m sure you could find a way to make things work,” Ayumi told him sympathetically, “You always do, and in the mean time I’ll talk to dad about not letting Prince Wakatoshi get the wrong idea. You’d never be able to marry him anyway, since he’s the crown prince of Shiratorizawa.”

“Thanks,” he told her grudgingly.

“You’re welcome little brother,” she told him ruffling his hair affectionately, “And while I do that, maybe remind yourself why you want to rule the kingdom in the first place, maybe that will help you make up your mind.”

Oikawa grimaced, and didn’t bother to reply, intead running his fingers through his hair to fix the mess his sister had left as her footsteps retreated from his sanctuary, scowling down at his reflection, frustrated and unhappy.

“How the hell am I supposed to find the right person to marry in just a couple weeks Iwa-chan?” he asked the tiger, heaving a sigh, “And what the hell does she mean ‘remind myself why I want to rule?’ I already know why!”

The tiger took one look at him, got to his feet, plodded over and promptly shoved him, making him lose his balance and tumble right into the fountain. He surfaced with a sputter and a glare for the big cat, who looked entirely too smug for an animal.

“You’re so mean to me Iwa-chan!” he accused dramatically, earning an narrowed eyed look from the tiger, one that was a clear threat to ‘stop whining or get swatted or dunked again.’

“Fine,” he agreed, heaving himself out of the water and grimacing down at his ruined clothes, “Fine, fine, fine! I’ll stop sulking. Maybe it’s time for another trip, see if I can’t clear my head.”

Iwaizumi eyed him for a long moment, but apparently seemed content with this plan as he promptly laid back down again with a yawn, clearly settling in for a nap. Oikawa shot him a dirty look, but then heaved a sigh and walked away. He needed to change out of his wet clothes, hopefully before anyone saw him or he ran into that ass Ushiwaka again.

“What am I going to do with that boy?” the Sultan asked despairingly, heaving a sigh and tapping his fingers against the arm of his throne as he tried to come up with some solution.

“Patience my dear,” his wife, the love of his life, soothed her voice quiet and gentle, “Tooru is a good boy, I’m sure he’ll come around to marriage eventually.”

“We don’t have time to be patient,” he told her, heaving a sigh, “His birthday is less than three weeks away, and we haven’t heard a word from him about who he wants as his spouse! I had to hear from Ayumi that he prefers men! He could’ve told me himself you know? It’s not an issue! He has an heir in Takeru and could rule happily with a man by his side!”

“I know dear,” she assured him, patting his hand sympathetically, “I’m sure he didn’t mean to hide it from you, you know our Tooru he’s always been so focused on being the best prince he could be, I bet that romance wasn’t even a thought that occurred to him.”

“Well it should’ve been,” he harrumphed unhappily, “He knows the tradition as well as anybody, and knows he won’t be allowed to rule without a consort! It should’ve been one of his top priorities!”

“You know Tooru’s heart has always been more focused on things like politics and the welfare of our people,” his lovely wife scolded reprovingly, before sheepishly admitting, “And I think our pushing the subject may have made him dig in his heels, you know how stubborn he can be.”

“I do,” he admitted, heaving a sigh before playfully pointing out, “I wonder where he gets that from?”

“From you obviously,” she informed him pointedly, making him chuckle slightly in agreement.

“I’m afraid it’s to his detriment this time,” he told her, smile sliding off, “He needs to find himself a consort. Male or female I don’t care so long as it’s before the deadline.”

“Do we really have to rush him?” his wife asked sympathetically, “It’s a silly tradition anyway. Why should we put a time restriction on falling in love?”

“Normally I would agree, but this tradition is actually rather generous compared to others,” he reminded her bleakly, “Our children have until the age of twenty-five to make their own choice and if they don’t it gets made for them. It’s a compromise that gives them a chance at love, while also ensuring those who neglect the chance still serve their country by forming some kind of political alliance. Such is the life of a royal, whose life belongs to their country first and foremost.”

“And there’s no way to change it? To push things off just a little while longer?” she pleaded, quietly.

“I’m afraid not,” he told her sympathetically, his own heart heavy in his chest, “As it is other countries who are fully aware of our traditions are already chomping at the bit, hoping to form an alliance, presenting us with their offers. It would be incredibly insulting to turn them all away. It’s one of the reasons Prince Wakatoshi is here.”

“You do know that our Tooru would never actually agree to marry Prince Wakatoshi don’t you?” his lovely wife asked reprovingly.

“I… well… one of my advisors might have mentioned something about sexual tension,” he blustered, earning a resigned sigh from his wife, along with an eye roll. Luckily he was saved from having to try to explain himself further as the doors to their throne room swept open.

“Ah Jafar!” he exclaimed, jumping immediately on the other man’s presence as a distraction from the current topic, “Welcome back! How was your trip.”

“Enlightening your eminence,” the other man assured him, his voice smooth in a way Ayumi had at times complained was oily. Then again his daughter had never really trusted his vizier, and neither had Tooru but since neither of them had ever given him a good reason, other than gut instinct he’d brushed it off, figuring it was probably because of the man’s looks. Both of his children, for all their better traits, could be exceedingly vain at times, a fault he was a bit despairing of, though he couldn’t think of anything he could do to change that.

Jafar certainly wasn’t the most handsome fellow around, lean and near skeletal in a way, tall, thin, and bony with large almost protuberant eyes, high, winged brows, unfortunately large nose and thin wormy lips all set in a too narrow face. He knew his appearance was off putting to some, but he liked to think he was wise enough to see beyond such surface things. Besides, his father had trusted the man implicitly and had always heeded his advice, Jafar had also never steered him wrong, so he saw no reason to give his children’s ‘gut feelings’ any sort of credence.

“Excellent,” he told his vizier with a glad clap of his hands, “I’m glad your trip was fruitful, and the timing of your return couldn’t be more fortuitous.”

“Is something amiss your eminence?” he asked, leaning his weight on the golden cobra headed staff he carried with him everywhere as a sign of office.

“Not amiss per se,” he assured the vizier, going on to explain his troubles with Tooru, with the occasional input of his wife.

“I see,” Jafar noted, stroking his curled goatee with his fingers, his eyes narrowed in thought, “That is indeed troubling. I will give the matter some deep thought.”

“I appreciate that,” he told him with a smile, “And now, to other buisiness.”

The three of them continued their conversation, catching the vizier up on what he’d missed in his time away from court. Jafar played his role of advisor perfectly, his fingers idly playing with the golden serpent staff, neither royal noticing anything amiss as its ruby eyes glinted with an almost unnatural light.

It wouldn’t be until later that night that the sultan would begin to question several of the decisions they’d made earlier that day, but by then it was too late to change them, and he never thought to look to the vizier whose advice he remembered as being absolutely perfect. Instead blame fell squarely on his own shoulders, and he lay awake for several long hours beside his peacefully sleeping wife, troubled not just by his son’s lack of spouse, but questioning his own judgement, and wondering if maybe he might be slipping in his old age.

You strolled casually through the bazaar, listening with one ear to the familiar sounds of the hawkers all shouting about their wares and the hustle and bustle of the people as they moved about their business, chatting with one another and bartering with the stall owners. The smell was one you couldn’t really find anywhere else in the city, perfumed with spices, essential oils, fruits, and all manner of other interesting and unnamable things. It was better than the stench of the lower city for sure.

A warning look at one of the kids who darted past you made him hastily pull his hand away from your belt purse, offering a sheepish smile before fleeing like the hounds of hell were on his heels. That was the other thing the bazaar was known for. If you didn’t keep a close eye on your coin you would almost assuredly lose it.

You’d done your own fair share of pick pocketing and were pretty damn good at it, if you did say so yourself. These days though you tried to keep most of your money making on the up and up where you could to avoid long, drawn-out chases from the guards. Plus by now most of the vendors knew your face, and so knew to keep a wary eye out when you were around, though it didn’t stop a few of them from hiring you to run the occasional errand.

It was why you were here today, and in such a jovial mood. You had a pocket full of bronze coins rattling around in your purse, which meant you’d eat well for a week at least. Humming idly you contemplated whether or not you wanted to buy something from Yasir.

Normally you avoided the bitter, vicious, disgusting old man on principle for what he’d tried to do, both to you and other street kids, but you couldn’t deny he did sell some of the best fruit in the whole city and today he had a whole cart full of delicious looking apples that were practically begging to be eaten.

“That will be one silver crescent,” Yasir was simpering at the customer at his stall, his syrupy tones making you want to gag. A quick look at the customer in question had your eyebrows raising in surprise as he held a single apple in his hand, clearly about to hand over the silver crescent without question.

The way currency worked there were 5 silver stars in a silver crescent, 10 copper crescents in a silver star, 5 copper stars in a copper crescent, and 5 copper bits in a copper star. An apple was worth a copper bit at most, so Yasir was essentially charging him at least a thousand times what a single apple was actually worth.

Normally you couldn’t care less about some rich idiot getting swindled, but this was Yasir, someone you’d loathed since you were a child and an enemy to street rats everywhere. Thus you strolled over, quickly hands plucking the silver crescent out of Yasir’s greedy hands and pressing it back towards the rich idiot.

“You!” Yasir hissed venomously in clear recognition, “What do you think you’re doing? Interfering with my sales? I should call the guards on you!”

“I’m sure the guards would love to hear about how you’re trying to sell a single apple for a whole silver crescent, so please call them I could follow and laugh you all the way to the holding cells for trying to swindle someone out of so much money,” you told him idly, making him pucker his lips in a moue of distaste, though he notably didn’t bother to say anything.

“That’s what I thought,” you smirked, “And you…”

You trailed off for a minute, surprised. Walking up you hadn’t gotten a good look at the customer’s face because he was wearing a hood over it. Up close though you realized with a start that he was probably the most beautiful man you’d ever laid eyes on. He had smooth peach colored skin, high cheekbones, full lips, and wide brown eyes the color of chocolate a delicacy you’d only ever managed to taste once in your life but whose sweet, rich flavor you’d never forgotten.

He also had thick wavy hair, that fell in an attractive swoop across his forehead, small pieces sticking out of the sides of his hood, and was a good six foot tall, maybe more, with broad shoulders that showed despite the hooded cloak he was wearing. It was startling, but looking at him you were almost positive you were looking into the face of a noble of some kind which was incredibly disconcerting.

“And me?” he asked, his voice smooth, light and clearly teasing, the corners of that pretty mouth turning upwards, a glint in his eye telling you he knew exactly what had startled you into speechlessness.

“A single apple is worth a copper bit at most,” you informed him, snapping out of your daze, your tone waspish, though you were more annoyed with yourself than you were with him, “If you’re going to get swindled this badly, you might not want to be wandering about without your guards. Go back to your palace where you belong little princeling.”

Idly you flicked a copper bit at Yasir who caught it with an extremely disgruntled look but didn’t protest as you snagged an apple for yourself and wandered away. That was the one thing you could count on with Yasir, the greedy man would take money no matter who it was from.

You walked away, whistling happily to yourself as you bit into the sweet apple, wiping your chin with the back of your hand and savoring the fruit and the fact that you’d managed to get one over on the old man. It was looking to be a good day, or so you’d thought, right up until the sound of footsteps reached your ears. You turned just in time to see the strange nobleman fall into step beside you, peering at you with clear interest in his gaze.

“Something I can help you with?” you asked bluntly, as you took another bite from the apple.

“You’re interesting,” he informed you, peering at you with wide eyes as if he’d discovered some new fascinating alien species, “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you before.”

You snorted, unable to help yourself, the uncouth sound garnering a shocked and slightly appalled, slightly intrigued look from the man as you informed him, unable to keep the slight condescension from your voice, “It’s no wonder little princeling, people like you and me don’t exactly run in the same circles, but let me tell you I’m nothing special, just an ordinary street rat. Now why don’t you run along back to safety before you bite off more than you can chew.”

“Mm I don’t think I will,” he told you, something about his tone utterly infuriating, “But tell me then mister street rat, how did you know?”

“Know what?” you asked flatly and rhetorically, “That you’re a noble? You mean other than the fact that you thought an apple actually cost a silver crescent?”

The noble flushed, the pink in his cheeks surprisingly pretty, but you weren’t done yet, “You’re too clean for one. No one wanders these streets without picking up some dirt.”

It was true enough. You tried to stay clean as best you could, but the climate in the city was arid, dust and sand everywhere, which made things difficult. The times you could actually afford to go to the bath houses were few and far between as food was far more important than money, though you did try to sneak in now and then when you could.

“You also have a noble’s hands, no scars,” you pointed out, showing him your own for reference, which were riddled with them from things like knife fights and the climbing you’d done over the years, “Worst of all you don’t keep nearly as good an eye out for your purse as you should.”

This last was said with a glare towards a pickpocket whose hand had been creeping toward the noble. Normally you wouldn’t care, and even applaud another street rat for taking what had to be a hefty amount of the ignorant idiot. However, given you were with him at the moment there was a good chance you would take the blame, and like hell were you taking the fall for it.

The noble you were with turned surprised eyes on the street rat who made a rude gesture at you and scampered away. You rolled your eyes unbothered by the kid before ducking away, intending to head out and see if you could find some work for the day, only to notice the noble following along at your heels. You quickened your pace, hoping to lose him, ducking between people and booths, but he turned out to be surprisingly agile despite his size. You ducked down a mostly empty side street but even that didn’t shake him.

“What are you doing?” you demanded, annoyed, spinning on your heel to face him and nearly getting knocked over for your troubles as he almost collided with you.

“Following you,” he told you, not even out of breath despite the merry chase you’d led him on through the bazaar, which you grudgingly gave him props for. Pampered as he looked you would’ve thought he would struggle at least a little bit.

“Why?” you demanded, utterly dumbfounded and more than a bit incensed.

“Because it seems like you know your stuff and it turns out I might need a guide,” he told you, giving you a charming smile that you were fairly sure would’ve made every prostitute in Hana’s brothel swoon. Luckily you were made of sterner stuff and knew better than to be enthralled by a pretty face.

“Didn’t I tell you?” you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest and giving him your best glare, “You don’t belong here little princeling. Now, scurry back to your palace before you get hurt and bring the guards down on all our heads.”

You turned on your heel and were pleased to hear he didn’t follow after as you made your way down the alley, fully intending to wash your hands of the responsibility for him when he called out, “I’ll pay you!”

The offer made you freeze in your tracks, your instinctive feeling that the man was trouble warring with your need for money. However, you clearly remembered that silver crescent he’d been willing to pay for a mere apple of all things and so slowly found yourself turning to look at him.

He’d looked a little concerned when you’d first got a glimpse of his face, but the moment he saw you turning it melted away into a triumphant smile. A part of you absolutely seethed with resentment, but you quashed your pride down. In the end money was money and you weren’t so proud you’d turn him away entirely, even if every instinct you had screamed that he was nothing but trouble.

“How much are you offering and just what exactly do you want?” you demanded, leaning against the wall with a deep frown on your face.

“I just want someone to show me the sights of the city, things I’ve never seen before,” he told you with an almost childish eagerness that was more endearing than you expected and took you aback a bit, making your traitorous heart flip in your chest.

“As for money,” he hastily dug into his purse and produced a handful of silver crescents and asked far too innocently, “Will this do?”

You groaned unintentionally, both for yourself knowing you were about to agree despite your better judgment and because the idiot noble was trying to hand you more money than you’d laid eyes on in the entirety of your life.

“Fine,” you agreed, running a rough hand through your hair, and wondering what the hell you were getting yourself into, “I’ll show you around princeling, but you stick close to me and do as I say.”

“Sure thing Mr. Street Rat sir,” he told you with a cheeky salute, making you heave a sigh as he sauntered over to you.

“I’m going to regret this so much,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him, before conceding, “Alright, let’s see what you want to see then.”

Jafar hummed to himself as he stroked a long bony finger over the enormous hour glass that sat at the center of his private workshop. A part of him was still incredibly frustrated over the drawback with the thief he’d hired to rob the Cave of Wonders. He’d been so close, closer than he had been in years to finally achieving his goal.

It had taken him over a decade to even locate it, chasing rumors, hunting down the pieces to the golden scarab that was said to be the key. This was partly his own fault he admitted, if he hadn’t been so impatient when he spotted the first piece, stealing it from the neighboring Kingdom of Date Tech , he might’ve managed to avoid drawing the suspicions of the previous Sultan.

Sneaking the viper that had ended his life into his rooms and ensuring it bit him had been a hassle and had cost him a pet he’d been fairly fond of. Still it had been worth it, as the previous sultan hadn’t had time to share his suspicions with the new one, who’d trusted him implicitly from the beginning of his reign.

He’d been sure to be more cautious this time, to ensure he kept that trust, using his lovely staff. It was just one of the many treasures he’d stumbled on while searching for the Genie’s Lamp and certainly one of the most useful. It’s hypnotic powers of suggestion combined with his own guile were nearly infallible. It only failed on people who were strongly opposed to whatever he was suggesting, and sometimes if they had a weak will it would work even then.

The current sultan, while reasonably clever wasn’t what he would call strong willed, and he had several glaring weaknesses, namely his family, his wife, two children and his grandson all of whom the man practically doted on. It made it particularly easy to suggest things that, while they might not benefit the kingdom as a whole, certainly benefitted him personally.

The sultan was an easy piece to move, and he liked it that way. If he couldn’t be sultan himself yet, being able to pull his strings without worry. However, there was one small problem. Prince Tooru was nowhere near as malleable as his parents, the man was stubborn as an ox and worse he’d never particularly liked him.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d done to turn both princess Ayumi and prince Tooru against him, but both had only ever watched him with suspicion in their eyes no matter what he did. It was a shame, once upon a time he’d thought to marry princess Ayumi, but that plan had fallen apart with the death of the previous sultan.

In the confusion after she’d managed to get engaged to her current husband, and there had been nothing he could do to change that, as it was the one area the current sultan managed to stand firm on even with the full power of his staff against him. He’d let it go without fuss though, perfectly willing to wait, after all it was actually Prince Tooru who was the heir and the prince was just as lovely as his sister.

Even better, prince Tooru had remained willfully against marrying anyone his parents pushed his way, without him even needing to try to influence him. It had created a situation where the everyone was clamoring to marry the prince who was in desperate need of a spouse that wouldn’t upset the precarious balance of the surrounding kingdoms. It was the perfect position, and set him in just the right place for Jafar to put forth his proposal of marrying the younger man himself.

It might take a bit of work, and he knew Prince Tooru wouldn’t be happy about it, but he was sure he could make the pretty prince bow to his will eventually. Plus if his parents agreed to the match there was very little he could actually do about it.

All of this meant he’d been free to keep pursuing the lamp, with only the smallest of interventions here or there to ensure the prince never fell in love with anyone. Which was how he’d finally managed to find the other half of the scarab he needed, hiring the thief to take it from a wealthy merchant who’d been bragging about it.

He’d been thrilled to find, just as in the legend, that once it was complete the scarab took flight, leading him out over the desert and at last to the Cave of Wonders, the rumored resting place of the lamp he needed to ensure his future.

Sure it had been disheartening to hear from the cave itself that he needed to search out “The Diamond in the Rough” who was apparently the only person capable of entering the cave. However, he wasn’t too concerned. He was so close he could taste it and the death of the thief who’d been swallowed by the cave was no great loss. In fact he could even call it a boon as it meant he hadn’t had to deal with the rancid smelling gutter rat himself.

He would’ve been more worried about finding this so called “diamond” if not for another magical tool that had greatly aided him over the years. The large hour glass that he even now was preparing to use. It was a scrying tool, one that required rather expensive components to work, but one that was well worth it as it could answer any question asked of it no matter how esoteric.

Carefully he grabbed a vial, tipping it into the funnel, giving just enough to coat the bottom of the glass that would eventually hold the sand. The ruby red liquid coated the glass in a way that was clearly unnatural, forming a perfect film over the bottom. The stink of copper reached his nose as the blood he’d obtained from one of the virgin street rat children the guards were always hauling into the cells did its job.

That was the easiest of ingredients to obtain, and the children were rewarded for it in a sense, released from the cells to live and thieve another day. The next however was far more dangerous, and he grimaced as he tipped in six drops of King Cobra venom, which hissed as it hit the blood, filling the hourglass with a ruby tinged smoke. Last but not least, the most expensive bit, diamond dust, ground from real diamonds, a whole bag of it, which he poured in with careful precision.

The makeshift sand filtered through and he waited patiently until it was all in the bottom, before quickly turning the whole thing over, and quickly voicing his request, “Where might I find the Diamond in the Rough?”

The whole mixture, which had formed a steady stream as it filtered through the hourglass, swirled around the bottom half forming an image. He studied it carefully, knowing he only had until all the sand reached the bottom before the image would disappear and force him to do the whole process over again.

He let out a delighted, high, cruel laugh as he saw the visage in glass. It was a young man he didn’t recognize, but he did recognize just where he was, as he climbed up a derelict building he knew was at the edge of the city. The one he needed was close by, within an hour’s walk. It was as if the very gods were looking out for him, easing his path.

His every dream was going to come true, all he had to do was send the guards out to fetch his street rat prize. His Diamond in the Rough.

Like this? Please feel free to drop in to my ask box and make requests! Just make sure to read the rules first!

Want to commission me or just support my writing? Visit my ko-fi!

26 notes · View notes