#rattling him around in my mind palace like a rag doll

[bratprinceofexy]

Why does Jeremy Knox play exy?

We know that for Jean it's survival, and his conflicting feeling for the game seem central to this new trilogy. In the aftg universe, knowing a character's reason for playing shapes themselves as a character. Jeremy says he plays exy for fun, it's just a game. Maybe that is the answer, but from what's been hinted at, Jeremy hasn't been telling us everything. There are gaping holes in his story that'd he would like no one to notice. For fun. That's such a blank slate answer- Why did he start playing exy? What is Jeremy Knox hiding

[littlemisskookie]

One Thousand and One

One Thousand and One Ship: Aladdin!Namjoon | Jinni!Reader Description: Inspired by The Forbidden Wish, 1001 Arabian Nights, and Aladdin. Your lamp has been found in a garden not of ruins, but of gems, by a peasant who’s hopelessly in love with a princess. Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Intercourse, Oral, Fingering, Mirror Sex, Denied Orgasms, Master Kink, Infidelity, Hair Pulling, Rough Sex? Multiple Orgasms, Dirty Talk, Creampie, Unprotected Sex, Violence, Death, Attempted Sexual Assault? Slight Gore, Slow Burn Word Count: 33,095 A/N: This took so long to write, so I hope you enjoy! Also happy 2 year anniversary!

A city of wonders sunk into the sea A betrayer going down with thee

The survivor escaped though not of free will And slowly but surely They'd forget how to feel

You are smoke, the shade of a dark royal blue when painters wish to add color around the stars for an otherwise bleak night. You expand and retract, pulsing like the heartbeat that you lack. The opening haunts you, your one exit, though you cannot billow out and soar to the skies of your own accord. You'd forever be encased and ensnared in this barless prison of gold and ivory, pushing fruitlessly against the walls, yearning for even the slightest brush of a palm against the now dusty surface.

Your senses are tingling, and you feel the presence of someone else, causing your ears to ring. Never had your lamp felt smaller, and you feel yourself expanding, the wisps of smoke straining against the walls as someone enters the cave.

You had been stuck in this underground garden for years- centuries ago by your previous master. They had used their last wish: a garden that bore fruit in the most dazzling form of jewels. However, to get to the priceless relics, one must first walk through a room of copper coins, where pebbles litter the road before them, fools echoing words to encourage the newcomer to take fistfuls of coins. They were petty and greedy, wishing to help the cave subject others to the same fate. In the second room, there were hills of silver, and far more pebbles littered the ground. Before there were whispers of encouragement, but now there was idle chatter, filling the mind and clouding one's thoughts.

Finally, in the third room before the garden of jewels, there were mountains of gold. Not a single centimeter of the ground was cleared, pebbles and rocks covering each square inch, every victim screaming at the top of their lungs, rattling the walls as their cries echoed across the corners of the room. They'd urge the newcomer to take a single coin and have their entire life changed, saving them from perishing and poverty with just one gold piece. Temptation always got the best of them, for if the fool gave in and so much as touched a single piece, they'd be transformed into a pebble no bigger than the size of one's palm, and be forgotten forever.

It feels as though alarms are going off in your ears, and you silently urge the person to draw closer, stepping with bare feet over the pebbles in the room of copper. You yearned for them to free you from this prison, where your previous master had so lovingly kept you, knowing it'd take centuries before you'd be freed and beckoned again. They were selfish like that.

You feel your makeshift heartbeat pound harder as the man crosses the room of copper and steps into the one filled with silver. You had been disappointed time and time again, let it be grand knights seeking glory, or greedy princes wishing for more power than possible. As the newcomer draws nearer, his presence is easier for you to distinguish. He is different, for through your sixth sense you know that he wears no extravagant silks and carries no weapons. He has no shoes, and calluses cover his feet and fingers. He wears shabby clothes and his hair is uncombed, but with each step closer, you make out his face. You wait with bated breath as he enters the gold room, overtaken by the screams of previous fools, as well as the stupendous mountains of gold that were stories high. One of your more impressive wishes, that was for sure.

Had you a breath, you would be holding it, your chest tight as you feel each step he takes. It's as though a tremor shakes the ground beneath his soles, and you tense. Your bottle begins to rattle with excitement as the man's muscles tighten as he eventually forces himself with hesitant steps to exit the room of gold, entering the enchanted garden. Never before had anyone gotten this far, and you feel your lamp shift ever so slightly, enamored by the boy. Was this the day? Centuries and millenniums of waiting, and here was your savior?

The boy walks past the glittering jewels, his eyes twinkling up at the fruits with distrust. He dares not to lay a finger on them, knowing all too well what would've happened if he had done the same in the previous rooms. The jewels are safe, however, as you know. What you would make into your mouth, however, were simply wisps of smoke, and you were unable to tell him that it was safe. Besides, you were impatient, so terribly, terribly impatient. You wanted out.

Come to me. Find me, O Wanderer. Your rags shall transform to silks and the gold in this cave shall be used to make you a palace of splendor, shall you simply free me.

The man steps closer to the altar where your lamp resides, his steps hesitant. You sense a sharp jawline, copper eyes and honey gold skin. Thick lips and short lashes, as well as a perfectly sculpted nose. His limbs were long and his stature tall, proportions one of a doll, a model that any designer would beg to have. The Gods had done a marvelous job with this one, and you knew it'd be a pity should he wish to alter his appearance with any form of glamour. His vision was one of perfection, even if he were covered in grime and dirt.

His hands shakily pick up your lamp, and you still, waiting for even the slightest movement of his thumb against the golden walls of your chamber.

"So this is it," he breathed, his voice breathy as he admires the lamp, though a thick coat of dust prevents it from gleaming properly in all of its glory. "Made kings abandon their lives of splendor only to vanish into thin air, huh?"

You sense a smile, his eyes squinting up. "I suppose that makes me better than any king, then, huh?" He chuckles as he says the words aloud, finding it rather amusing.

And there it is. Soon enough he's wiping away the thick coat of dust, and you feel your muscles stretch, smoke billowing out of the spout of the lamp. You fill the room, a presence larger than life, an air of magic encompassing the two of you.

He falls back, staggering, though clutching the lamp closely to his chest. He is frightened by your gesture of smoke and grandeur- how amusing. You assume an old form to your liking, long and gangly limbs with smooth skin, and long, shiny locks that tumble down your shoulders, cascading like a liquid sky. You smirk with your newly sculpted lips, a seductive look as you drape yourself in silks of blue fit for a queen. Your eyes, however, you cannot change- a liquid gold color that every dying sunset envies. Every master of yours knew you were a vision to behold, Jinni or not.

"What are you?" the boy questions, blinking up at you. You might look like a girl, but you most certainly were more than that- far more.

You look at him with new eyes, ones you haven't opened in a millennium. "I am fire, I am flame. It is of smoke from which I came. Bound to the lamp until I'm freed, and three wishes I grant unto thee. I serve you, Master, O Wanderer, owner of my lamp. I am a Jinni who's magic is yours to bend to your will. How may I serve you?"

"I heard of your kind from stories," he whispered. He's certainly handsome- your sixth sense didn't do him justice. Though with your new eyes you're able to see through the dim light how regal he looks- even if he were dressed as a peasant. "Silver of tongue and able to twist a man's desires against him- sent here by the God's to destroy us with pleasures. But you... aren't what I was expecting."

You quirk a brow. "What tales describe me? A three-horned beast with skin as red as a devil's?"

"Some," he hums. "But I wasn't expecting a... girl."

"Would you prefer if I alter my appearance?" You purse your lips, circling him. You shift into a silver tiger, black stripes painted so beautifully over your muscled back, though your golden eyes give you away easily. You run towards him, billowing around him like smoke, curling over his frame until you materialize behind him once more, back into your assumed form of a girl. It feels good to demonstrate the magic you use at will, as though stretching out your limbs after being tied for hours. You sense how tense he is from your display. "I cannot hurt you, O Master. The lamp forbids me from hurting the owner- you have nothing to fear."

You sense his muscles relax at that, and he grins. "I prefer you as a girl- you're far prettier than I would've expected."

"How many Jinn have you met?" you question, scoffing slightly.

"None- but I've met a lot of pretty girls. You're easily one of the top ten," he laughs. His grin stretches across his face, a genuine smile. After all these years, you still weren't used to seeing that. Mortals tend to lie without words.

"This is simply a glamour. I have no true form, nor no true name. I am nothing more than smoke and have no true identity. It is in that sense that I'm allowed to do the desires you mere mortals yearn to fulfill," you answer.

"You can't possibly not have a name," the man scoffs. "Surely you were given one- even for a Jinn."

You close your eyes, long lashes fluttering against the apples of your cheeks. It wasn't the first time a master had asked for your name, let it be to give you a new one or simply to help them call you more directly when you were by their side- glamour or in secret.

"Y/N," you speak, the name rolling off the tip of your silver tongue. It had been too long since you have spoken it, and even longer since you heard it. "And your name, Master?"

His eyes wandered over you appreciatively, still gawking at what he had witnessed and what stood before him. Something neither demon nor angel, but far more cunning, wicked, and powerful than anything in his realm. His eyes glint in the dim light at this realization, and you know a thousand and one thoughts run across his mind at the endless possibilities.

"Namjoon."

You bow lowly to him, a mere servant at his feet. With all of your might and your power, you remain humble in front of the mortal. "How may I serve you, Master Namjoon?"

"Namjoon's fine- I'm not so fond of the title," he chuckles nervously in response.

You nod your head demurely, eyes glinting and calculating as you soak in your surroundings, the jewels still glittering around you. "As you wish," you say. You look around the room, breathing in the air of the underground garden, the sweet scents clouding your mind.

Namjoon is finally able to look back in awe at the garden, no longer so distracted by his mission. He wipes at the lamp, as though he were polishing it with the rough skin of his hands. "This place is beautiful," he said softly, his words breathy and eyes wide.

"Thank you," you say, feeling pride swell in your chest. You hadn't truly seen the garden in many, many years. It really was one of your prized wishes. "I did it myself."

"You made this?" Namjoon questioned, turning back with a quirked brow.

You can't help but grin at how impressed he seems, and follow him down the steps as he takes a closer look. "Of course. I made this cave, traps and all. My last master wished for a garden of jewels and gold, apples of rubies and pears of peridot. Leaves and grass of jade, accompanied with trunks of gold. They were selfish, however, and fearful- wanting no one else to steal one of their prized possessions. And so three rooms were made, or traps, more accurately, where one misplaced touch damns you to eternity as an unfeeling, unmoving rock. They kept their selfish streak, for once they used their third and final wish, they left my lamp here, knowing that as sought after as it would be, from kings to knights to peasants, no one would be worthy enough to greet me."

"That sounds terrible," Namjoon said lowly, looking at the garden with less admiration for its splendor and instead as the prison it truly was. "What was their last wish?"

You smile bitterly at the memory, the wish you granted still tingling and ingrained, able to taste the magic on your tongue still. "For the husband of the woman they loved to die a painful death."

"You have the power to make someone die?" Namjoon questions, his voice hesitant.

"Anyone has the power to make someone die- I simply make sure the blood isn't on my master's hands. People aren't fond of doing the dirty work," you tell him simply. "It's death and time that I cannot reverse. My power isn't as infinite as one would be led to believe- for even I have my limitations, though they aren't nearly as constrained as your own. In exchange for my powers comes my freedom."

You step forward to one of the trees, one that held fruit forged from sapphires, glittering more brightly than any diamond. You pluck it from a golden branch, turning to offer it to Namjoon, though he looks tense, afraid to touch it. You reach for the hand that isn't holding the lamp and note how strongly you can feel his pulse. His skin is warm, and he feels truly alive, filled with life where you were filled with smoke. Pity he has what you lack- a soul. You push away the thoughts, gently placing the glittering jewel in his hand, letting him feel the weight as you set it in his palm. "You're allowed to have as many of the jewels as you want, for once we leave the cave it'll disappear into no more than ruins."

Your hand slips out of Namjoon, and you immediately feel the absence of warmth. He weighs the fruit in his hand, admiring it. It didn't take so much as half a brain that what he held in his hand was perhaps worth more than his entire house. Assuming he even had a home, however.

"How do we even get out of here?" he asks you, plucking more fruit in abundant amounts, struggling to cradle them in his arms. You wring your hands, and between your palms fabric appears, weaving together to form a satchel. You open it for him to drop the jewels, his movements slow and delicate, scared of breaking the priceless relics.

"You may wish yourself out or come back from where you entered," you answered, stoic.

"The entrance- right," Namjoon said, nodding.

"You may want to hurry, however. The moment you begin to leave, the cave will begin collapsing upon itself. Without my presence and magic to uphold this place, it'll unravel," you warn. "My magic can last eons- but it was another tally upon the qualities my previous master added to the garden."

"I suppose we've got to go, then. I'm not wasting a wish when I've been running my whole life," Namjoon grins, licking his lips as he takes in a long breath. Filling the bag to the brim with fruit from every tree, he grasps your hand tightly, sprinting. You dash beside him easily, his grip tight where you wouldn't slip out. You wonder if he knows that you could simply shift into an animal, but he seems content with keeping you close.

The ceiling and walls shake, rocks tumbling down. Cracks follow, nipping at your heels as the two of you flee, and you feel Namjoon's heartbeat quicken dangerously, adrenaline pumping through his veins, his energy radiating throughout you from where the two of you were bound. He's focused, however, shoving the lamp into the satchel, his feet barely touching the ground as he flies on. You pass the rooms of riches, the gold, silver, and copper melting as you pass by. The voices of victims screech and cry out for help, knowing this was truly their doom, and that they'd be overtaken by rubble within seconds.

You sense it before you see it, the large boulder, a massive chunk of the roof of the cave, cracks forming along the ridges before it descends directly above the two of you. Namjoon looks up, the slab of rock nearing closer and closer to your impending doom with each second. "Look out!" he quickly screeches, pushing you aside, shoving you roughly. You dissipate into smoke before you hit the ground, wondering to yourself how foolish the boy could've been. Jinn could feel pain, but it would take far more than a boulder to kill you.

The boulder is perhaps a mere ten feet above Namjoon's head when he blurts out the words. "I wish we were outside the palace!" he says, squeezing his eyes shut.

A poor fisherman caught a lamp accidentally releasing a monster "If you had released me 1000 years before I'd give you riches and more 100 years ago 3 wishes galore But alas, too late It's time for you to meet your fate." The fearful mortal tricked the beast Trapping it back in its prison Through trickery and deceit And the lamp floated on.

You feel the magic of his wish fill you, coursing through you the way blood pumps through veins. In the blink of an eye, the world around you shifts, from a crumbling cave to a grand palace, outside the walls and staring up at the marble structure. The sky is dark, stars twinkling above in form of lights, and luckily enough the guards outside the gates were barely out of sight, unable to see your transportation.

Namjoon looks pale, his face tinged with green as he doubles over, clutching the satchel to his chest as he pukes, hurling his guts on the dirt beneath his feet. It wasn't good for mortals to teleport- wasn't good for their stomachs. Weak things, really.

You pity seeing him so sick, warmth blooming in your chest as you think of how he attempted to save you when it was really he in mortal peril. You hadn't seen that sort of selflessness in eons- trapped or not.

"Are you alright?" you question, rubbing his back as he spits out the rest. "I had to act quickly- I should've warned you."

"It's fine- the good thing is we're safe. I was foolish for thinking I could escape so easily," Namjoon horked, sputtering. "Can't believe that old man was right- you're real."

You quirk a brow. "Old man?"

"I didn't tell you how I came upon you?" Namjoon asks, mimicking your quirked brow. You shake your head, the question now bubbling up, and you found curiosity pecking at your core. Namjoon hummed. "Well, to put it simply, I want something impossible. The man overheard me and told me that it wouldn't be so impossible- so he asked me if I knew the legend of the last Jinn."

"The legend of the last Jinn?" You were unfamiliar with this story- and ironically it was supposedly yours.

"There's a legend that there's one last jinni who can grant wishes- not just some ifreet of fire or ghul of corpses. The most powerful entity known to man, but it had disappeared, hidden to a gave of unimaginable riches. Men far and wide search for the hidden jinni, wanting their darkest desires to be granted. None succeeded, however, and many disappeared," Namjoon tells you. "So the old man directed me, saying to follow the moon for three days. On the third night, a hidden cave would reveal itself to whoever was looking for it. Once entering though, the person wouldn't be allowed to touch anything but the lamp."

"So, what is it this impossible task you wish for me to accomplish?" you ask him, leaning in to have your lips brush his ear. "Ask for it and it shall be yours. Power? Riches? Revenge? I've heard it all, my boy. I can give you gifts of golden touch or a silver tongue, and you will be incomparable."

"It isn't talents or gold that I yearn for," Namjoon tells you politely. He grasps your hand, beaming at you. "Let me show you."

The two of you walked around the walls that surrounded the palace, until getting to a section where patchy vines covered a side of it. Namjoon tugged at it before hoisting himself up, looking down at you. "Be careful- it can be slippery. Trust me when I say that it's a brutal fall."

You find it somewhat endearing that he cares so much about your safety, even if it is pointless. You feel the air push against the soles of your feet, and you levitate to sit at the edge of the wall, atop of it, though masked by the darkness, the moonlight and stars acting as the only things to reveal you. You bring Namjoon up, steadying him to make sure he doesn't fall.

Namjoon points over to a balcony towards the back of the palace, where there stood a figure. She had long raven hair, a nightgown of silk and dark skin that looked luminescent in the moonlight, having her glow with the warmth of a candle.

Namjoon's eyes were adoring, and he leaned in, as though yearning to get a better look, positively entranced. His eyes were starry, and a smile tugged at his lips. He radiated with admiration, and it clicked.

"You love her," you stated simply, nodding to her.

"Yeah," Namjoon gulped. "I do."

"So she's your impossible task, hm?" You hadn't seen someone so swoony in ages- it was adorable in a sense.

"I heard her singing once before when I was searching for scraps. I was so entranced- it was the most beautiful sound. Once I was able to see her, I was hooked. She was gorgeous," Namjoon sighed. "But she's a princess. That's the complication."

"Ask for her to love you, and she'll be devoted," you tell him. "She will be yours and yours alone."

Namjoon shakes his head. "I don't want to force her to love me. That'd... that'd be cruel. I want her to love me from her own free will."

"Love is never of free will," you state simply. "If it were, there would be far fewer complications."

Namjoon soaks in your words, trying to decipher the underlying wisdom in them. "She'd never love a peasant like me. No one would."

"Have you even decided how you'd win her?" From the look on his face, you can tell it's a no. "I suppose you can't make up your mind just yet- and I won't impose and decide your wish for you. Take your time, and think wisely. I've seen many men make wishes they regret, whether that be from my own twists and turns, or from their own foolishness. I'd make it quickly, however- a jinni rarely has the same master for long."

-

One hundred and fifty steps. That was the invisible perimeter around your lamp, so long as your master kept it on his person. Namjoon didn't let go of the lamp, thankfully, keeping it out of wandering eyes of his own kind, tucked away in the belt of his worn pants. It wasn't until the two of you got to a damaged and worn down building half-filled with sand. You had to climb over the wooden posts and figures that blocked your path until the two of you made it to a rug and some bundled up scraps of clothes to form a makeshift pillow.

"It's not much, but it's home," Namjoon said, beaming at the makeshift bed, though in the dark you knew that his cheeks were glowing and rosy, despite how well he masked his shame in his voice. "I'll let you have the pillow tonight."

You shake your head, taking in a deep breath of the night air and dust as you did so, letting it enter through your nostrils into your smoke -filled husk. "I don't need to sleep- I've slept for a millennium. You take the pillow."

"Suit yourself," Namjoon shrugged, flopping down on the carpet, dust flying out and sand shifting beneath it. "Y'know, I stole a mattress once. Pretty neat, too. Worn and squeaky, but better than this. Unfortunately, I had to ditch it since palace guards found out where I was hiding and chased me out."

You frown, settling beside him and laying down, his head elevated above yours through the layers of cloth beneath his head. "Where are your parents?" you question, the words careful and hesitant.

Oddly enough, he doesn't seem to so much as tense at the mention of his parents. "They're dead," he says simply, the words soft on his chapped lips. "I was pretty well off, actually. We were in the middle class- but they were murdered. My mom was attacked, and when my dad attempted to rescue her... well, neither came out alive."

"I'm sorry to hear of your loss," you say, your voice laced with sympathy. "Woe to those who forgo grievances bigger than their hearts can bear."

"It's alright. I was young at the time, but not young enough that I couldn't figure out how to survive on my own," Namjoon laughs. He taps his noggin, turning to you and grinning. "My mom says I've got the brain of a scholar. I probably would've become one if I didn't become homeless."

"Is that what you'll wish for? A proper home? Books? Opportunities?" you question, knowing that any number of things could make his situation significantly better. You knew without a doubt that Namjoon would appreciate whatever he was given, in contrast to many previous masters you tended for.

"I'll figure it out in the morning," Namjoon yawns, stretching his long, gangly limbs to the sky. He blinks slowly, a drowsy smile making the corners of his lips curl upwards. He points over to a small crack in the wall that led to the outside world, no doubt letting far more bugs in than preferred. "If you angle your head just right, and close one eye, you can see part of the palace through the hole in the wall. Sometimes I fall asleep looking at it and imagining what it'd be like to live there. Makes me glad I found this place."

"Ask for it, and all of its splendor will be in the palm of your hand," you whisper in his ear, as though enticing him, oiling the gears in his head so that they'd start whirring at the thoughts of endless possibilities. A gleaming palace, a beautiful princess, and a proper bed. It could all be his within the blink of an eye, if only he were to say the words aloud.

"Now that'd be a wish," Namjoon hums sleepily, drifting off to sleep, his eyes fluttering shut. "G'night, jinni."

He shivers slightly from the crisp air, and you get up, waving your arm over him as a thick blanket covers his form. His grimace melts into a serene expression as he falls into a deep slumber, and you can't help but feel pleased with yourself. You press your palm against his forehead, feeling the warmth and blessing him with good dreams of a new life so that he would sleep well.

Truly, this one was different. You almost didn't want to let him go.

-

The black silk covering your lower face didn't help much to mask the musk and stench of the streets, where animal feces and grime littered the floor. Namjoon didn't seem nearly as perturbed as you, however, the man seeming at home as he slipped past guards or market men you had no doubt he stole from.

Namjoon slinked back, rolling behind one of the carts as the man running it was occupied with a customer. In the next moment, the peasant had produced an apple, green and fat, from the palms of his hand.

"Try it, best apples in the marketplace," Namjoon grinned, tucking you two away in a narrow alleyway, out of sight from the man who had unwittingly been duped.

"You need it more than I, dear Master," you say, your words floating from behind the silk over your lips.

"You have taste buds, don't you?" At your nod, he pushes the apple into your hands, wrapping your small fingers around it as your hands struggled to completely engulf it in your grasp. "Then try it- just one bite."

The boy fascinated you, to say the least. Therefore, it was no surprise that you looked him in the eye, his twinkling with mischief and yours with curiosity, slipping the silk from your face to sink your teeth into the fruit.

It was sour and ripe, juice dribbling down your chin, making your lips glisten as though you wore gloss. It was delicious, and you couldn't remember the last time you had fruit this ripe.

"It's good," you admit, pushing the fruit back into his hands as he happily chomps down on it, some chunks getting on his cheeks. You wipe it away, getting rid of the residue that stained his chin.

"Told you so," he said brightly, though it was difficult to decipher the words with how full his mouth was. Despite how unrefined he was, he was still far more charming than any king you served. You found yourself smiling fondly at the thought, but reminding yourself this was temporary, and that attachments couldn't be risked.

There seemed to be a buzz throughout the people, suddenly rushing to bunch and huddle around in a crowd. Namjoon looked back, brows furrowed as he examined the scene. He wandered closer, curiosity bubbling within his chest, his sticky hands clasped around yours as he dragged you closer. You could feel his emotions fill throughout you, and you felt true sensation egging you on to approach nearer.

A valiant prince with regal features, though soft, sat atop a horse. The crowd parted, mimicking the Red Sea, fueling the man's ego as his horse trotted forward.

"Another prince wishing to be betrothed to the princess, no doubt," Namjoon muttered under his breath. "They're all the same, though- pompous assholes. No wonder she turns them away each time."

"A man of many graces, however, may blind one from their true intentions," you murmured quietly, eyeing the gold and diamonds that littered the long and elegant fingers, clasped around leather reigns and devoid of calluses. He had never worked a day in his life.

"I think it's ridiculous- they just let any prince walk in to propose. I'm just glad she could see through each of them," Namjoon huffed. "Her father's said to be a bit of a kind-hearted dolt- I don't know, though. Never met the man- but he could certainly do better for his people, at least the ones in need."

"If you were Sultan, you could grant far more wishes than even I," you remind him.

"I don't wish to be Sultan- the only thing I wish for is true and genuine love, one that lasts through the ages," Namjoon says. He sighs to himself, turning away as the palace guards stepped aside to let the prince inside. He couldn't even look to them. "C'mon- I need to get out of here."

-

"Namjoon! What're you doing here? If Mama sees you-" The girl's fiery eye blazed towards Namjoon, a thousand flames trapped in her beady pupils, and a million insults ready to be hurdled.

"Relax, baby, I've no ill intentions," Namjoon chuckled, his radiant smile swiftly contradicting with the girl's glare. "I wanted my friend to meet some of the townsfolk- those who tolerated me, at least."

She narrowed her eyes further, squinting at him. Her gaze finally shifted to you, and a single brow was raised. "Don't tell me you have another unfortunate soul tailing after you, Namjoon. You've messed with about every other girl in here free of charge- why are you insatiable?"

"She's not just another girl," Namjoon huffed, mind whirling back to the fact that you weren't even human in the slightest. Realizing his words, however, he quickly backtracked. "She's a friend."

"Sure she is," the girl muttered, rolling her eyes. She turns to you finally. "Don't waste your time on this one- he's not worth the chase. The other girls have had their try, but it's pointless."

"I shouldn't have to remind you that you're no better," Namjoon added cheekily, dimples showing prominently.

She responded by flicking his forehead with her finger. "I ought to call Mama on you. She'll have a fit. You've been gone for weeks and suddenly popped up out of nowhere."

"Is your mother upset with him or something?" you questioned, brows furrowed together.

The girl's expression scrunched up, confused as she meets your expression. "What?"

"This is a brothel, Y/N. Lydia here is a prostitute," Namjoon clarified with an awkward, yet amused laugh, seeing how your eyes suddenly widened to realization.

"Mama's just what we call our Madame. She doesn't take too kindly to Namjoon here since he's poor, but many of the girls give him a bit of free service since we knew him before we started working here," Lydia says, pinching the man's cheek to wipe the smirk off his face. "As I said, he's not worth the chase. He's a nice guy and all- but relationships 'aren't his thing' since he's got his eyes set out on the princess."

"I'm not going to commit to anyone when I've already found the love of my life," Namjoon huffed, swatting away her hand.

Lydia scoffed. "You're ridiculous," she chastises, eyes flickering to you. "You know, I'd say you're pretty enough to work here, but you'd probably wipe out my business. Take it as a compliment. So, what's your deal with him?"

"Just a friend, nothing more. He needs my help to win the princess's heart," you tell her honestly. Well, mostly honestly. Technically you were lying by omission. You should clarify that you were helping him by granting a wish, as it was the Law of Jinn.

"That's funny," Lydia laughed. "He won't be let within ten feet of the palace unless he was a prince. The princess wouldn't stoop to some peasant's level- sorry, Namjoon- but her father wouldn't allow it. You'd have to own a kingdom of your own before you're even let in, to be frank. But you're getting nowhere dressed like that, that's all I'm saying."

Namjoon's eyes glittered slightly at that. "So you're saying if I were a prince she'd fall for me?"

"I mean, sure I guess," Lydia shrugged. "Look, it was nice meeting you, Y/N, but Mama's gonna know I'm gone if I stay out here too long. Don't go falling for that one, now." She closes the door behind her and you're left with Namjoon. His heartbeat is escalating quickly, and you can practically hear the wheels in his head turning.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Namjoon questions, the sole image of a crown on his head and silk on his skin filling his mind.

You do no more than smile demurely to him. "Your wish is my command."

"Open sesame." A magic cave revealed Gold and riches Discreetly concealed 40 men to collect Over centuries, piles build A bit of it stolen Scurry to abandon The most sacred treasure hidden Many spells sealed until destiny Calls for it to be opened "Close sesame."

-

"Entering, Prince Namjoon of the Pagean Isles!"

Namjoon strode in with you at his right side, a demure servant girl, whose beauty shone even through her drab attire. At his left was a silver tiger, tamed and powerful, bending to only Namjoon's hand, his tail swishing about in the air as his predatory eyes scanned the room. Luxuries were carried by servant men, all moving in unison as they piled gifts at the feet of the Sultan.

Your golden eyes scanned the man, his belly big, and beard long. His eyes held the light of one still ignorant to the world's wonders. At his side stood the prince who had previously entered the palace walls, his nose turned towards the ceiling as he haughtily surveyed Namjoon's princely form. Your chest glowed with pride to see the prince glower at how impossibly regal your Master looked.

At his other side stood the princess herself. While most humans had imperfections that could be surveyed up close, ruining the illusion of their illustrious beauty, the princess seemed to be all the more breathtaking. Dark skin that made her almond eyes pop as she cooly looked over the band of loyal followers behind Namjoon, her eyes briefly scanning you. Though your beauty still managed to brighten the room, you blended in perfectly and undoubtedly outshone by Namjoon. Her eyes still skeptical and calculating, the princess moved her dark hair back, and as though using her own sort of magic, it seemed as though a wave of sweetness swept through the room, similar to the smell of rose petals dipping into hot bath water. It was a sort of air you could only manage to mimic.

"It's an honor to be in your presence, Your Majesty," Namjoon said, bowing deeply. His chest was tight, anxiety and adrenaline rushing through him, though from the ruse or the princess, you were unsure.

"It's a delight to have you here, Sir Namjoon! The more the merrier!" the Sultan says, his voice boisterous as he hops off of his throne and to the gifts, holding up a golden coin, the face of an ancient king imprinted on it. "And what wonderful gifts you bring!"

"A small price to pay for your hospitality and welcoming us to your country," Namjoon speaks cooly, rising to an upright stature, grinning. "I've come to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage."

"Another suitor!" the Sultan gushed, dropping the coin as he clasped his hands together. "We've many visits, but never two at once! We'd be more than happy to house you, Prince."

"It'll only be me and my servant girl, and perhaps the tiger, as well. I promise you he's perfectly safe," Namjoon said, scratching the ear of the tiger as it leaned into his touch. "The rest will be heading off home 'til I call for them."

"I've never heard of the Pagean Isles. Remind me where you're from?" The other prince sneered, raising a brow to Namjoon skeptically.

"Of course," Namjoon grinned, "anyone who is well traveled would see our islands of golden sands and crystal waters. Many have mistaken it for the lost nation of Atlantis. Our grand abode resides in the Bermuda Triangle, though we scarcely stray from our small paradise, seeing as there wasn't much else we could seek."

You were glad he had memorized your speech so grandly- or more so winged off of the details you had told him before. Still, he was doing a marvelous job. You could see how Namjoon glowed from within at the thought of this make-believe country- as though he truly was their ruler.

"Then why is it you've come here?" the prince questioned, trying to bury himself into Namjoon's subconscious and seed out what it was the man truly wanted.

"Word has come even to our islands of a beauty unlike any other- the princess, set to be the future queen of your nation. She was said to be the most beautiful woman on Earth, the gods crafting her with their holy hands, and placing stars in her eyes." Namjoon's gaze flickered to the princess, her face stony and revealing nothing. You could feel how his face automatically burned while looking at her, and you hoped his cheeks weren't beginning to glow red. "But even the most eloquent of poets couldn't properly describe your beauty, Your Highness."

"You flatter me," the princess said, batting her luscious lashes, a cool wave washing over the grand room. "A man with words like yours is a dangerous one."

"And a vulnerable one in your presence, as well," Namjoon said, unblinking, their gaze locking firmly. The tension was so thick, you could practically taste it. You hadn't even fed him those lines- he truly had his own way with words.

The other prince, his ego threatened and slightly deflated, turned towards the Sultan, who was examining an ivory camel. "Surely you won't let him stay here?"

"Why not? Afraid of some healthy competition, Prince Zandar?" the Sultan laughed. "Prince Namjoon is more than welcome to stay here! Ultimately it's my dear Yasmin who will make the decision. I can't bear to see my darling baby girl unhappily wed."

Zandar scowled, turning on his heel to stroll out, a graceful stomp to his step as he exited.

Princess Yasmin seemed to float down before she was no more than three feet from Namjoon, the man tense. She curtsied, bunching the material of her dress as she bowed her head demurely. "I look forward to seeing you around the palace, Prince Namjoon," she said, the words flowing off her tongue smoothly. Once she rose, face to face with Namjoon, she was only a few inches below him. "I think I shall reside for the night. The day has been as long as it has been tiresome."

"May you rest well and see me in your dreams, for I will be blessed to know I even flashed across your mind," Namjoon spoke, his words soft as he bent down, a low bow as the woman gracefully raised her hand, letting his plumb lips barely graze the soft skin of her hand before she slipped from his grip and departed.

Namjoon was still in half a daze when the Sultan ordered servants to escort the two of you to your quarters.

-

"I never want to leave this bed," Namjoon sighed blissfully, his back bouncing against the fluffy sheets. You closed the door to the princely quarters, assuring the other servants that His Royal Highness would like a moment of privacy. "This beats my rug any day."

"You'll like the Sultan's quarters far more, Master," you assure him, unable to contain the smile on your face to see Namjoon bunch himself together in the blankets, rolling around until he had wrapped himself in a makeshift cocoon.

"You're kidding- nothing can be better than this," Namjoon said, eyes scanning the room with awestruck wonder. With the marble walls and smooth floors, high ceilings supported by graceful pillars, and bright fabrics covering the lounging furniture, his reaction wasn't in the least bit surprising. "You could probably fit ten girls on this bed alone."

"Of course that's your first thought," you chuckle, rolling your eyes, though you couldn't avoid the expression of amusement to blossom across your face. "I suppose your player days that Lydia informed me of haven't completely faded from your memory."

"I still have a few tricks up my sleeve," Namjoon smiles, the charming gesture accompanied with a wink that made your stomach involuntarily flip. "Tell a girl how lucky you are that the stars aligned to grant you permission to so much as lock eyes, and they're a puddle at your feet."

"I do hope you remember to use that tactic on the princess when you plan to court her," you hum lightly, pleased by his pretty words, ones that even a scholarly gentleman would envy.

"No, it isn't as simple. With her I don't want to memorize lines as though I'm acting in front of an audience- despite the fact, my role as a fake prince makes that rather difficult." Namjoon laughs lightly at that last part. "With the other girls, I know exactly what to do and what to say, knowing I could leave the next day without a problem. But the first time I saw her? I saw her face, and I knew she was what led to my destiny. Let it be as her husband or as her King, I know she's the true beginning to the rest of my life."

"Despite the troublesome flames you have to dance around, I believe it will be accomplished," you assure him. "You have a great destiny to fulfill- and I know in my heart of smoke and cinders that it is true. Through me, you will become a man whose name is etched in the stars by the gods themselves, where even the constellations are blinded by the characters of your name."

"You seem to speak prettier words than even I," Namjoon bellows. "I'll have to learn how to speak as eloquently as a million-year-old Jinni, it appears. You'll probably be burdened having to teach me, for I shalt not waste a wish on a tongue of silver, flames, and deception. I won't waste what's in words."

"You'd be surprised," you laugh, reaching out for the silver tiger, it's head rubbing against your hand, a low hum emitting from it. You scratched behind its ear before bending down, stooping to its level as you held its face in your hands, scratching and petting it as you would a common house cat.

"The tiger was a nice touch," Namjoon comments, sitting up as he eyes you petting the tiger. "I think that Zandar fellow peed his pants."

"I thought it'd be a nice touch," you say whimsically, waving your hand as the tiger billowed away in a cloud of grey smoke. "Exotic pets were in, back in my day. I can't imagine it'll go out of style."

"It's hard to imagine you being a million years old," Namjoon says, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "An old crone such as yourself shouldn't be so pretty."

You scowl at his teasing. "Well, this old crone still knows her way around a court- which I know you're clueless in. I can't imagine it's changed much, and you're most definitely in need of a lesson if you want to continue to woo the princess with your head sitting upon your shoulders."

"Perhaps I should be nicer to you," Namjoon said, gulping nervously.

You grinned wickedly, your golden eyes glinting in the light. "Chin up, Your Highness. It'll be a long day before you're back in the arms of your princess. I suggest we work on that posture. Now, where are the books?"

"Oh, gods. May the stars spare me!" Namjoon says with an overdramatic wail, falling back to the duvet.

-

You internally cringe upon sight of Namjoon awkwardly bowing, his head low and at level with his knees, arm flourishing out in a manner that one would perform for an archduke instead of the marines captain he was presented before. However, having hindsight that he couldn't properly navigate himself around a court with the grace and agility many other princes were used to, you both made up the excuse that he was foreign, and that he'd learn along the way. Sure, you had attempted to teach him the different rules, but there was only so much you could cram within the hour, and though the traditions and greetings more than likely haven't changed in a millennium, even you had to scratch your head and ponder over whether or not you were giving the right advice.

Despite his goofiness and gestures, he was a riot, telling far and outlandish tales of voyaging to sea in the waters far from even the Pagean Isles, withstanding the sweet melody of the Sirens and searching for forbidden fruit. The other royals, not able to go out of their marble walls as much as the next voyager, were awestruck, gape-mouthed and gawking at Namjoon, hanging onto his every word as he held them at the edges of their seats.

The Sultan himself was positively charmed, a grin spreading across his round face as he excitedly clapped his hands in a childlike manner and urged Namjoon to continue. Even the princess herself seemed intrigued, her eyes glinting and never leaving Namjoon's flying lips, despite the fact that the other prince stood right at her side. He seemed to be the only one who wasn't completely awestruck by Namjoon's performance, instead choosing to blather on once he could get a word in edgewise, or otherwise glare at Namjoon once he failed to get the princess's attention.

You, disguised as the doll-like maiden you were, helped the other servants bring out the lavish meals as Namjoon continued to entertain, as though he were the host instead of the guest. You all stood by the side, waiting to be called upon by one of the officials or royals. The other servant girls seemed equally smitten by your master, all whispering to each other, and their glances flashed to you every so often.

It wasn't until one of the ladies in waiting for the princess stepped forward that you truly got to indulge in a proper conversation, however.

Her eyes were as dark as coal, fiery and lively after leaving the princess's side, her face flushed with excitement from hearing one of Namjoon's tales. You could sense her heart racing from the story itself, and you suspected that perhaps she had a crush on the prince himself.

It didn't matter, however. Anyone could sense that his eyes were locked on the princess, doing his best to act endearing and gain her affection, his yearning causing a thick tension between the two, despite how unreadable she was. On the off chance he wasn't melting at her gaze, he'd glance to you, as though seeking approval, but you could offer none. Perhaps you should've disguised yourself as a fruit fly so you might whisper encouragements into his ear, but he seemed to be doing well enough on his own.

"Your prince seems to be quite the adventurer," the lady in waiting comments, her tone light and airy as though to make pleasant conversation, though you could sense she was yearning to learn more of the mystery man. "I don't even care whether these stories are true or not at this point- they're the most entertaining things I've heard in this palace."

"Every word from his mouth is true- even I've had to accompany him on a voyage or two as his faithful servant," you tell her demurely, watching carefully as she gleamed at your confirmation of his bravery.

"I see," she speaks, her mouth parting open for a second before pausing, thinking about her question and what she wanted to ask. "What's he like?" she finally questioned, breathing the words out softly so that no one nearby would be able to eavesdrop.

"Go back to the table and be entertained- you'll find out soon enough," you say, eyeing her warily.

"True," she admits, her mouth pursing, lips small and tight. "But you know him the best as his personal servant. What's his personality like when he's not performing before a grand audience of officials?"

You know for a fact that she'll blather on to the princess about every word from your mouth, and you don't let a minute of it go to waste. "A man far more generous than any I've ever met- and caring, too. He cares for the servants as he cares for a royal, holding each life at value, as foolish as it may seem. He is impulsive, yes, but he can be intelligent when he wants to be. He's loyal and dedicated and persistent, and I've yet to meet a man as great as he."

"You speak well for a servant girl," she hums softly. "Where is it you're from?"

"The Pagean Isles, such as he. I was an orphan brought up in the palace, but once you dust enough books and serve enough poets you learn to speak as eloquently as those in court," you reply simply.

"Well, if my princess and your prince get married, I'm sure there's a position open for you among us girls," the lady in waiting winks, a mischevious smile spreading across her face.

You mimic the smile, hearing a boisterous laugh from everyone at the table as Namjoon delivers a joke with precise timing. "I'd say it's more of a 'when' than an 'if', but I'll consider your offer."

-

"Did you see? I had them on the edge of their seats. I've got this prince thing down to the letter T," Namjoon said boisterously the moment the two of you entered the guest quarters.

"I'll admit, when Lydia sprouted tales of your infamous charms, I had my doubt. Perhaps it doesn't pertain only to women after all," you laugh.

Namjoon grins, his eyes having the devilish copper gleam you were warming yourself up to. "I can charm anyone and anything, 'O Jinni. I'd be wary if I were you."

You scoffed in derision. "I highly doubt you could charm me. I have no true form nor heart. I've lived years that mathematicians couldn't comprehend. I wield a sense of power that can be matched only by the gods, and that is why I was put in an unforgiving cage. I've met kings and heroes, and no one could so much as attempt to penetrate my barrier. What makes you believe you could twist a being such as I around your finger?"

"You're still a girl, aren't you?" Namjoon laughs. "You girls are easy to read like that. Pretty words to a pretty face, that always does the trick. Besides, all you need is a guy who knows what he's doing and how to make you feel good."

"Every man thinks he knows how to make a woman feel good," you snort. "It's good to know things haven't changed in eons."

"Well, I know I can," Namjoon winked playfully. It's funny how, for such a wise man, he was confident and extroverted. Most of the smart ones you encountered had a quiet personality.

"Try me," you say simply. "Seduce me without touching me properly."

"I'm surprised you're so boisterous. You've encountered this sort of thing?" His brows were raised, and though there was no sexual tension between you two at that moment, only a challenge between two friends, (or so it seemed), you had a feeling that the energy between you could change easily depending on his next move.

"Sex doesn't mean anything, nor does it do much. It's simply for reproduction, but in my experience, it's never derived pleasure. Lust is but a carnal human instinct," you shrug. "Seduce me, wondrous one."

He's amused smile matches your own, and he leans in, barely caging you in against the pillar you didn't even realize was behind you. Your back presses against it, and you look to your side, seeing his fingertips barely even grazing the cool marble. His lips are a centimeter from your own, and for a moment, a brief and weak moment, you wish to capture his lips in your own.

As though sensing your yearning, Namjoon smirks. "Don't worry- I won't kiss you. That'd make it too easy, wouldn't it?"

You scoff at that. "You're the very definition of a pompous ass, young master. I wouldn't have expected such cockiness from one such as yourself."

"Well, I've got a good reason to be cocky, if I do say so myself," he chuckles, reaching down to capture one of the buttons of your dress between his lips. You furrow your brows in confusion, but with skilled precision, within a second he unfastens the button and does his work on the next. You realize he's craftily undressing you without using so much as a finger. Your stomach flips at the simple gesture, and you feel a lump in your throat that you promptly swallow. It comes to mind that the only way he learned how to do this so craftily and quickly was from experience- countless faceless women being undressed with only his lips, his tongue, and his teeth. They probably unraveled from those alone as well.

By the time he's got three buttons down, revealing a peak of the valley between your breasts and starting at the buttons at your stomach, he looks up at you, quirking a brow in amusement. "Dare I say, I made an eons-old goddess flush?"

"You're full of yourself if you truly believe you have any effect on me," you say, rolling your eyes, whatever hazy thoughts you were having being abruptly cleared.

"Is that so?" Namjoon quickly straightens, his hands grabbing your hips as he presses you against the pillar, your noses grazing against one another. In your haste, you quickly clutched onto his silk clothes, the fabric providing little support until you properly grip his shoulders. You feel the warm breath from his parted lips, and you feel your own hitch.

His copper eyes look at your tense state with nothing more than amusement, and you wait in bated breath for what he'll do next.

The side of his mouth quirks. "You're cute, y'know that?"

You're quick to get off of him, seeing him laugh abruptly as yous wat him. "See how the princess reacts to that! We're lucky no one walked in on us, for words would flow through these halls to know you're seducing someone who isn't the princess!"

"You're the one who opened thy can of worms. I had every right to stand for my honor," Namjoon cackles, doubling over in laughter at your heated reaction. "I'm not all bark and no bite."

"You just bite," you counter, flicking his forehead. "Honestly, had my original home known of men like you, you'd have been the nightmare of fathers everywhere."

"A land from eons ago? Do tell," Namjoon questions.

You shake your head, realizing you had gotten completely sidetracked. "No matter- 'tis lost to the depths of the sea now."

"Oh, I see, trying to intrigue me so that you don't admit you've lost. Who knew the Jinn were a race of sore losers!" Namjoon smirks, teasing you, fondly.

You stare at him in amusement, a faint smile on your lips, and you're unable to deny the sensation of a weight being lifted off of your heart as you looked to the man.

Your master seemed to notice your fond look, though didn't take offense to it. Instead, he smiled back with a light laugh of confusion. "Why do you look at me like that?"

"I just forget how full of life you humans are," you say wistfully. "I can feel it radiating from within you and filling up the room. Raw emotion and an addicting sensation of adrenaline and bliss- I've never felt it so strong before."

"You can feel my emotions?" Namjoon asked curiously. "Sense my energy?"

"Whereas us jinn are filled and made of smoke, you are made of the fire that our embers originated from. It's something we cannot truly have but can sense. That is how jinn and mortals are connected, in a sense. Our bond," you explain simply. Stepping forward, you sweep into his arms, your smooth hands gliding up towards his biceps. "Would you like me to show you?"

You feel the man gulp, and his heart strangely skips a beat. Cocking your head to the side, you await his answer. His heartbeat surges, and you're confident that if you were even a mere human you would've felt his quickened pulse beneath your palms. "Yes."

Closing your eyes and concentrating, you push warmth into his veins, a fire that ignites the room. It's intensified, the same way all of Namjoon's emotions are for you. All of his muscles relax, a tension that he wasn't even aware was building up now being released. A heavy heart is as light as a feather, droopy lids are now lifted to gaze upon the vibrant colors of the room, and his breathing is heavy as he feels the sensations of everything around him, from your soft touch to the room temperature's effect on his skin.

To put it simply, it was as though all of his senses were heightened to the max. His eyes flutter, and he takes in a deep breath. "And you?" he questions softly. "What do you feel?"

"That's what I feel when I'm with you. Your emotions and life are far greater and more vibrant than other mortals. A diamond in the rough, in that sense," you offer. "But with anyone else... or just by myself..."

You suck in all the life flowing through his veins, and emotional ton weighing upon his shoulders. Cloudy smoke fills his lungs as the room temperature seems to drop on its own, his skin turning into ice as all the warmth pools from his skin into the flesh of your palms. Namjoon shivers and quakes, and you remember for the briefest moment that he was still a mere human, unable to handle things to the extent of you, and depart yourself from his arms as life rushes back into his all too fragile body.

"That was..." Namjoon breathed heavily, unable to gather his thoughts.

"Intense," you reply simply, shrugging it off. It was far duller for you in comparison to him, but you had to consider what he felt in the situation.

Namjoon nodded. "Like a black cloud settled over me and filled every spare centimeter of the soul within my body."

You couldn't have described it any more accurately. "I am the definition of agreement with your analogy," you say. "A terrible feeling indeed- devoid of life."

"Do you wish you were human at times? So you could feel life instead of just processing it second hand?" Namjoon questions softly.

"In a sense, I'm almost parasitic- feeding off of the life that radiates off of you. It fills the room, and it's so addicting, I fear at times I cannot live without it. But then I'm stuck in the lamp for a hundred years or a millennium, and it's nothing more than a dull memory until someone frees me temporarily from my prison once more, and the cycle repeats. I doubt I'd be able to truly sense it if I were a mortal, but it'd be nice to no longer feel dependent on someone else, and to no longer be a slave," you whisper softly, sitting down as you let the words of truth roll off your tongue.

Namjoon sits beside you, your hands brushing against each other. His fingertips slowly brush closer to your own, and you let him, your heartbeat racing as you surge with the sensation of something close to adrenaline. His fingers lock with yours in a sense, and he gives them a tight squeeze. You're thankful he doesn't have your abilities, otherwise, your feelings would be transparent before him.

"What if I could wish for that? For you to be free?" Namjoon offered, his voice low as he looks at you carefully.

You recoil, your hand snapping back to your body as you stand back up, removing yourself from his all too magnetic presence. "Don't ever suggest such a thing again," you say quietly. "You've but one wish left- don't waste it on preposterous ideas." Before, should any other master suggest that you would've leaped for joy and kissed the soles of their feet in gratitude. But not Namjoon- never him.

"Why not?" he asked, not offended in the slightest, only curiosity lacing his voice.

You tremble like a leaf as you stand before him, fingers brushing through his locks as you look him in the eyes. Those galaxy filled eyes that have seen more than peasant or prince. "You're by far the best master I've ever served- one who's beyond other men in terms of heart and soul. Your spirit is pure and good, and I know you won't let it become tainted or corrupted with the power I've bestowed upon you. Therefore I cannot let you waste the most important decision of your life on some petty desire of my own. You're the first one I willingly serve for, and by those terms, I grant your heart's desires, no second, underlying tone to them."

"Are you sure, though?" Namjoon questioned, peering up at you as you cradle his face in your hands.

You brush your thumb along his cheek, smiling softly to him. "As sure as a prophecy from the Oracle, and as sure as the gods when they aligned the stars and wrote in the scriptures of fate for us to meet."

The tender look in Namjoon's eyes makes you melt, and you feel a certain softness and endearment that you hadn't felt before. Your makeshift heart pumps furiously as he slowly stands, your hands still cradling his face, and for a moment you think he might kiss you. It takes a lot of self-control for you to resist, and to remain still as he circles his arms around your waist.

"Y/N..."

You feel your breath hitch, allowing your eyelids to flutter as you feel his warmth radiating off of him in waves. You feel him lean in closer when-

"Princess Yasmin would like to see you."

You leap from Namjoon's arms and turn to the mere servant boy at the doorway, his eyes looking between you two questioningly. You were pretty enough to pass for a concubine, perhaps, but it would've been too improper for a prince to be sleeping with a servant girl in the home of the woman he was courting.

"Of course, I'll meet with her at once," Namjoon says, clearing his throat.

The servant boy shook his head. "Pardon me, Your Highness, but I was talking to her," he says, jutting out his chin to point to you instead. Both you and Namjoon exchange glances of surprise, but you're unable to do much more than follow the boy in his wake.

-

"Your Highness." You curtsey deeply, leg behind you as you dip your head before her. You were in the princess's chambers, the walls of silk and the golden light of the setting sun filling the room, giving it an iridescent hue, where the already dark skin of the princess and her ladies in waiting seemed to glow from within. Your bare feet were firm against the marble floors, and the pristine room was one that many would envy.

"You seem to know more than your prince- seeing as you know the proper bow," one of the ladies in waiting commented, eyeing your form as you rose to stand once more. You mentally cursed at being so lax with Namjoon when it came to his technique, but there was nothing you could do about it now.

"I studied royal etiquette when I was a girl, in many of the libraries. His Highness was far more interested in the literary works and philosophical studies than he was in studying cultures. He insisted those should be studied from first-hand experience, and one can't fully immerse themselves in a culture from pages, and to do so would be an insult," you lied smoothly, simultaneously excusing Namjoon's poor skills when it came to acting royal.

"Your prince is right in that regard," Princess Yasmin said. She sat on the floor, one of the fluffy carpets in the center of the room acting as a mat for all of the women to sit. She gestured to the empty spot, the bands and charms of the many bracelets along her wrist jingling as she did so. "Please, sit."

You obediently sit, cross-legged, hands on your knees. "How may I be of service?"

"You intrigue me," the princess said simply. "You don't act like a servant- you act with stature and dignity, despite acting subservient. It's the way you carry yourself. No peasant knows how to do that naturally."

"I suppose all of the time attending royals has paid off. Perhaps it's rubbed off and onto me," you suggest simply.

"Perhaps," the princess hums, her beautiful eyes still glinting with suspicion. "You seem close to your prince. You wouldn't happen to be a lover of his, would you? Not that I mind- I understand that men have certain needs, and you are prettier than most servants. I wouldn't be offended or surprised in the slightest."

"The prince and I aren't engaging in any sensual activities, and are no more than servant and master," you assure her. "He's got his eyes set on you and no one else."

"Is that so?" Her voice goes light and airy, and she cocks her head to the side, her long raven hair falling off her shoulder as she did so, moving as lightly as silk. "But he's just met me."

"Would you believe me if I told you it was love at first sight?" You see the girls' eyes shift from one another at your words. "He's been swooning since he first laid eyes on you, Your Highness. Surely you've noticed it, too."

"Love at first sight is simply falling for someone's looks, or at the very least, the idea of them. I find it to be a rather ridiculous trope," the princess sighed. "Frankly, though, I don't believe in love. My parents didn't love each other, nor did their parents. Love cannot bloom from within these marble walls."

"Then why do you turn down man after man that walks through these doors? If you do not care for love, what is your reasoning? Surely you're expected to marry, considering your father will enforce it."

There's a light smile on Princess Yasmin's face as you say that. "I rely more so on reasoning and logic than I do on feelings- I have a feeling you and I have that in common. We're two sides of the same coin, you see. I, a princess, and you a servant. But there's something eerily different about you- perhaps a similarity that's just now coming into clarity.

"I turn down the men who come here because they have nothing to offer. They marry me so that they can gain the status and wealth, but I'd rather give them a taste of their own medicine and turn the tables. I care not of looks or love- I'm not selfish in that regard. Neither of those will make a good Sultan for my people. I need someone with intelligence to match my own but still is willing to run things the same way I do. I want to run my kingdom- not a foreigner. But it's not just qualities of a husband or Sultan I'm looking for- otherwise, I could simply marry a peasant. They still need to bring something to the table. Tell me, what riches does your kingdom have? How big is your army?"

You were surprised by her speech and narration, and your heart sunk a bit as you thought of how disappointed Namjoon would be to learn that, though the princess was interested in him, she wasn't actually interested in him. "Our naval fleet is the largest subdivision of our army- many young men willing to fight and venture at a moments notice. We've got plenty of jewels and gold, but the greatest treasure from our inventory are the jeweled fruits that come from an enchanted garden that the prince himself has entered."

The princess's eyes lit up at that. "You don't say? Why hasn't Prince Namjoon brought up that story?"

"I suppose he wanted to wait until he could give it as a wedding gift. He has brought them with him, however," you tell her, your words careful.

"That seems to be more than substantial," Princess Yasmin sighed. "I cannot inherit the kingdom and start making changes for the good of the country until I'm betrothed. It's been difficult, however, choosing a proper king for my people. I need to put my people first, and none of the suitors so far have proven themselves worthy enough. They're too arrogant, too selfish, or too controlling. Prince Namjoon, however, seems to be a miracle from the heavens. Easy on the eyes, too, which is a bonus. If he truly loves me, as you claim, the courtship can be fastened so we can go on with the wedding. My father isn't a suitable Sultan for the people- he doesn't bother himself with the poverty or troubles- only squishes the potential riots his advisors warn him of. I'm very thankful you and your prince have arrived."

"We're thankful you welcomed us into your lovely abode," you reply, feeling the eyes of the women burning into your skull as they studied your reaction.

"You may deny you're lovers with the prince- but I know you can't deny you are friends. I see it how he looks at you- he cares for you. Despite your role as a servant before the prince, I do not sense the subservient bond between you- not with how he looks at you. Therefore, I'll give you the honor of telling him the good news," Princess Yasmin spoke. "I'll dismiss the other suitor and tell my father. The wedding will be announced within the week, and we'll have to make arrangements. You've been here for a few months now- no? Another month or so wouldn't hurt to prepare. I want to be married quickly. As soon as it happens, I'll make sure to make you a lady in waiting. I'm sure one of my women told you of the proposal already, and I do hope you put it into consideration. I see you as a rather valuable asset."

"Thank you, Your Highness," you say, standing up and bowing once more. "I'll tell Prince Namjoon of the news immediately."

"Please," she smiled, a honey glow to her cheeks, the first time you've seen her happy. "Call me Yasmin."

Traded from hand to hand No more than an object A convenience, a tool No one to object Gathering dust Or gleaming with gold An endless fate Repeatedly told

-

"Joyous news! I'm to be engaged!" Namjoon's voice is light and airy as he jumps onto the bed, feet bouncing upon the cushions as he seems to fly in the air, his smile beaming with excitement. "Bring a servant- we shall drink until we're dead! This is the most marvelous of news- she wishes to marry me! Within the month! Dear gods, I've been blessed! I- Y/N, why do you look so crestfallen?"

Namjoon jumps down, his rear landing upon the pillow as he sits, his expression worried. Though he should be used to your somber expression by now, stony-faced, you've come rather used to how easily he was able to read you. Even the wisest of men hundreds of years ago were unable to take a glimpse into your thoughts.

"Namjoon... she's not marrying you for the reasons you think she is," you state simply, sighing. You walk closer to him, sitting beside him as you look him in the eye. You've witnessed the deaths and slaughters of many, and yet seeing the man's unease made you strangely unnerved. What did he mean to you?

"What do you mean? Why would she reject all the other suitors but accept the proposal I've yet to properly make?" He laughs uneasily, as though he's waiting for you to assure him that it's nothing bad.

"It's less to do with you charming her and more because you're the best option," you explain. "To put it simply- you're the most convenient."

Namjoon's brows furrow together, a crease forming int he middle as he rises to face you properly. "What do you mean by that?"

You frown, feeling your heart sink in your chest. "You're the best suitor by far for her- you aren't controlling, manipulative, or arrogant like the others. You don't seek power, and she knows of your genuine affection for her- something the others lack. Besides that, the sooner she gets married, the sooner she can be crowned and gain the throne to rule her people. Her intentions are good, however. Despite all of this she's only doing what she believes is best for her people, which would be unattainable with those other suitors as Sultan. You know already that the Sultan is lacking, having experienced the life of a commoner, civilian, and peasant. The princess seems to want to do genuine good for the people- and you're her path to that."

Namjoon's quiet at that, staring blankly as he processes the information. You reach out for him, your fingertips barely grazing his, and you feel the rush of sadness, disappointment, and ache as he processes the words. Your heart plummets to your stomach, but your heartbeat seems to drum from within your throat. You feel sorrowful, pitying the man as he slowly sinks back onto the seat, sitting down with an expressionless gaze.

"So... she doesn't love me," Namjoon says quietly.

"She likes you. Maybe love can come along the way. You two haven't interacted very much, or known each other long," you point out. "It might just need time."

"I don't want to be chosen because of 'convenience'. I don't want to be the best option- I want to be the only option! I want to be the one she chooses for love," Namjoon snaps, anger rising in his voice as he yanks a pillow from one of the cushions, tossing it across the room.

You give him a sympathetic look, placing your hand on his shoulder, feeling the tense muscles relax under your touch. "I know, Namjoon. What is it you wish to do?"

Namjoons tares up at you, lips going small as he notes it's your first time using his proper name. Usually, you'd call him 'Master' or 'Prince', or at best 'Sir Namjoon'. It was as though even in privacy, you were his servant. Meanwhile, he's treated you as nothing less than a friend. This was the first time you had truly spoken to him as an equal- a first name basis usually reserved for those closest to you.

"What can I do?" Namjoon wonders aloud, letting out a huff of breath.

"You could deny her proposal. You can make another wish that leads you far from this place. Or you could accept her offer and become the new king. Who knows? Perhaps you'd bring well to the kingdom. Prosperity comes not always in gold, you know."

Namjoon's quiet at that, and you decide to press further to help him decide his fate, picking up the needle and guiding it into his hand so that he may sew the thread, intertwining it further with the rest in order to complete the woven masterpiece.

"Do you still love her?"

"Yes..." Namjoon's tone makes it sound uneasy, as though he were unsure, and not at all confident. That was unusual for him, seeing as he did seem very comfortable in his own skin.

"Do you still want to be with her?"

"I... I think so."

"Then the only logical thing would be to accept, wouldn't it?" As you see the words, you can practically see the gears shifting from inside his head, whirring as he tried to compose his thoughts. "When you love and want to be with someone, you marry them."

"I suppose you're right," Namjoon murmured, glancing up to you as you lock eyes. "I'll marry Princess Yasmin. In a month, I'll be hers."

For some odd reason, you felt a familiar ache in your chest, one you felt only once before when your fingers had brushed against his.

-

You hate having so many limbs to manage. Eight to be exact, the thin little legs dangling at your side, the string of a web hanging from Namjoon's earlobe as you hung close. You could sense his shivers as you kept close, your spider form making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He had expressed his distaste for this particular choice of disguise but still insisted on having you near to tell him what to say or do in case he froze up. Unfortunately, the only way you could properly whisper in the man's ear what he needed to do was to take the form of a tiny arachnid, so small it could barely be detected. It wasn't very pleasant for you, either, with so many eyes and limbs to take care of.

Namjoon approached the princess, who stood in the garden, instead of the grand and comfortable lounge area of her chambers, for no man was permitted entrance into her slice of heaven. A woman's room was deeply personal.

Her pale yellow garments made her tan skin glow, a honey tone making her seem to radiate from within and out, acting as though she were the sun, not from the yellow clothes, but from the bright, iridescent and vivid stunningness of her beauty. She was the definition of radiance, a star to be admired. Her ladies in waiting are by her side, though at a distance, to give the two space.

"Your Highness," Namjoon greeted, bowing deeply and properly, the only one he had truly mastered in comparison to all of the others he was supposed to perform in court. He rose again, stiff as a board, posture impeccable. "It is an honor to be in your presence. May I have a moment to take note of how lovely your garden is, yet not a single flower can compare to your beauty."

"'Tis often the ones with pretty words to lack pretty faces- yet you surprise me time and time again, Sir Namjoon," Princess Yasmin says, her facial expressions composed as always. "I see you brought your dowry."

Namjoon looks at the satchel he brought, the glittering jewels inside. "My servant girl has informed me that you were quite interested in them."

"Indeed- 'tis more proof of your bravery. No one else can say they've been in the Garden of the Jinn. They say they grew the garden themselves, and the trees are lined with gold, and the flowers emit light. Tell me, since you've seen this Garden of Wonders with your own sparkling eyes, is it true?"

"Every word," Namjoon beamed. "A sight to behold, as well as every relic in it. There isn't a single centimeter that isn't a vision to behold- similar to you, Your Highness."

"How flattering- though you no longer need to court me so, Prince Namjoon. I'm sure you're fully aware of my decision to make you my husband, as well as King." Princess Yasmin eyes Namjoon's expression carefully, and you sense him tense up.

Quickly, you feed him lines, his lips moving the moment the words float in his ear. "As I am well aware- and although I'd say I am pleased to be the luckiest man as your husband, I already am simply bathing in your light and wisdom. I promise to treat you eternally as the love of my life and as a queen, royal blood or not."

"I'm glad to hear you say that," Princess Yasmin said, and for a second you saw her shoulders droop, as though she were exhaling with relief at his acceptance of her proposal. Still, a small frown quirked the corners of her pretty lips downwards. "I suppose you also know, however, exactly why and how I reached this conclusion to make you my betrothed."

"I'm well aware," Namjoon sighs, "And I accept your wishes with full respect, My Princess."

The princess steps forward, and you climb up the small spindle of thread, hiding behind the shell of his ear as her fingers graze across his broad chest, a light touch. "I mean not to lead you on, but I'll do my best to learn to love you. Your servant has informed me of your feelings, more genuine and innocent than those of the other suitors, and I knew from the moment you entered my palace walls that you saw me as more than just a prize. That affected my decision deeply- though I know it'll hurt you in the process. I cannot promise I'll love you as you love me, but I promise protection and respect, and if we do get to it, love."

"Thank you, Princess," Namjoon says, his voice hesitant at her words.

Princess Yasmin looks up, her eyes locking with his, the dark, long, and thick lashes letting the dark gems of her eyes peek up to his. "I understand, however, if you do decide to leave for love. Before or after the wedding. I'll respect your decision, of course, but do let me know in advance. As you're already well aware, another reason I'm marrying is to be queen and serve my people, and in order to do that, I must be married. Still, I shalt not keep you from true love."

"True love? But it is you that I love, 'O Betrothed," Namjoon speaks, voice filled with pure confusion.

The princess quirks a brow, cocking her head to the side. "You have intelligence in academics, and streets as well. Your hands are not like those of the other suitors, who have soft, plump hands from not working a day in their lives. The callouses tell me stories with years of work, let it be those adventures you boast of or more. You're a mysterious man, Prince Namjoon, as is your home. I cannot find a single scripture with mentions of the Pagean Isles, and though you've mentioned before that your people keep to themselves and prefer not to travel, I'm shocked that not a single book was found on it in our vast library. I'll be sure to visit with you to greet your people after we're married."

"What does any of this have to do with true love?" Namjoon lets out a laugh- but you would know without your other senses that it was false. You'd know from simply the time you spent with him.

Princess Yasmin lets out a soft smile for once, as though amused by his confusion. "As I listed before, you possess academic and street smarts- but the third, and perhaps the most important one, you lack. Emotional intelligence. To see within yourself how you feel, and to look towards others and see what they feel. I've mastered the art, looking behind facades and masks that my peers wear in court, seeing their motives, their passions, their dreams, and their desires. And I see yours- tis not of power, but of love. However, the torch you still bear has dimmed, and though I may be your Sun, another is your moon. Though I die each night and rise each morning, blinding you, there is another who's always there, despite my presence, and despite how blinding I may be."

"The riddles that flow from your ruby lips are ones I cannot decipher, My Princess," Namjoon says. "Who is this moon you speak of? No other woman has caught my eye."

"I believe we both know there are some who are more than just women, Sir Namjoon," the princess smiles, her grin mysterious and knowing. "Your mysterious home and calloused hands- but most of all your good nature. You don't find those within palace walls. I may not have scrolls on the Pagean Isles- but I most certainly have pages filled with tales of the Garden of Jewels- and more specifically, the true treasure hidden inside of it. Your secret is safe with me, and I do not mind in the slightest. You're more of a man, Prince, and Sultan than any other man in this palace- and it'd be an honor to marry you. Whoever the lucky girl- Sun or Moon- it is."

Namjoon's stunned, and so are you, processing her words carefully.

The princess wears the mischevious smile, still, and turns, waving her hand to dismiss him. "We'll announce the engagement tomorrow, My Betrothed. The suitors shall be dismissed only after the wedding and preparations will be made. We may speak of whatever you wish at any time you require- after all, married couples shouldn't keep secrets from one another. I'll see you later, Sultan to Be."

With that, Namjoon is dismissed from the garden, and you know that despite the regal clothes and upright stature, he never felt more naked or vulnerable than before.

-

Your fur shines with its glossy coat as you rest unperturbed, the servants bustling around you all too scared to interrupt your slumber. Opening a single golden eye, you peer towards your Master, his regal clothes being fitted, a dozen or so stylists fixing him up for the engagement party, where the real preparations will begin immediately after the announcement. It would be an event to celebrate, as the rest of the kingdom will also be aware of their newest king.

Namjoon wears the same expression he has since yesterday when he had the conversation with the princess herself. Uneasiness settles into the pit of his stomach, and you can tell from the wrinkle between his brows that he's still trying to process everything. Though you had assured him that everything was fine and better than expected concerning the love of his life and how calm and intelligent she was, he seemed to be brewing underneath, gears spinning in his head. You wondered what exactly he was thinking about. The marriage? The fact that she knew of his true lineage? Her knowledge of you possibly being a Jinn?

"Ouch," Namjoon hissed, one of the needles poking into his defined calf.

"My humblest apologies, Your Highness," one of the stylists said, her voice calm, though you sensed a slight undertone of fear with her demeanor. You had no doubt she's dealt with difficult royals before.

"It's alright- it's my own fault for moving," Namjoon sighs, turning back to the mirror and examining the silks and satins that adorned him. It was strange to think of what he used to be, his rags replaced with the finest of riches. It was a stranger who wore his face. "I think I need a break. You are dismissed. I promise to let you finish the tailoring in time for the announcement."

The servants bow deeply before exiting, leaving you alone with the young prince. Namjoon sighs, turning away from the mirror to look to you. "You can reveal your true self, now. They're gone."

The smoke that envelops you twists and turns, suffocating you and applying pressure as it squeezes around you, delicate twirls from around your tail and paws to reveal your human form, one of silver adornments and fabric, beaded jewelry around your wrists and intertwined in your hair. "Strange of you to assume I have a true self, Young Master."

"Well, don't you?" Namjoon questions. "Or were you always a Jinni?"

You purse your lips. "I wasn't always- I was rare like that. I was changed into a Marid- the most powerful of them all, a Water Jinn. I was once human, many eons ago, in a previous life."

"What were you? Princess or Queen? Ruler of many?"

You shake your head with a soft smile. "Neither. I was a mere daughter of a merchant, though he was greedy, an avarice man at best. He knew he had no chance of possessing the power of a royal, for the trone of the kingdom where I resided was secure, and so, once he got his meaty hands on a lamp, he wished for power beyond that of a human."

"What happened to him?" Namjoon questioned, eyes soft.

A graceful shrug pulls at your shoulders, and you look away. "What always happens- words falsely misinterpreted and twisted against one's wishes, and so he was made into a Jinn himself. He wailed, now being confined to a new prison, the Jinni taking his place and free from his prison, my father unwittingly taking his place. He got his wish, however, now possessing the power of a Marid."

"What happened afterward?"

"He begged and wailed for me to help him, and so I made a wish to switch places with him. Not wanting anyone to know of what he had forced his daughter to do, he threw my lamp into the ocean, hoping it would never be found again. It didn't matter, however, seeing as he would soon join me in the abyss of the waves that would follow shortly after. It was, however, as power never strays far from the fools who seek it. I've gone through sheds and palaces, helped kings and peasants, and I've submitted to the ways of the Jinn, forgetting my humanity with the immortality and sheer power I've been granted. I've done grand and terrible things- and each and every wish I make draws me further into the nature I've been cursed to- that of the lamp. To bend to a human's will is to bend to the lamp's will. One often wonders what defines one as a human. It cannot be love nor emotion, for even animals and beasts possess both. Over my years, though, I've reached the conclusion that it is one thing, and one thing only- freedom. I haven't been human for lifetimes and generations."

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Namjoon says, his expression crestfallen. "You didn't deserve any of that."

"Perhaps back then, I didn't," you hum lightly. "But I do now. I mean it when I say I've done evil things- nightmarish fates you wouldn't dare dream of, and some of the repercussions still being suffered to this very day. I'd rather not go into detail about it, however."

"You're not that bad- not nearly as evil as you believe you are," Namjoon speaks. "You're kind- the fact that you've brought me here without any tricks proves that."

"A pure soul such as yourself has suffered enough from other's actions- fate has let our paths briefly intertwine so that I may right the wrongs that have come your way and give you what you truly deserve," you say simply. "I'm but a messenger- no, catalyst- that the gods send to you mortals."

Namjoon takes in a deep breath, closing his eyes. "If you were to have one wish, what would it be?"

You're taken by surprise but think to yourself for a moment. "I'd wish to truly see the world. I'm confined to my lamp, and at best I'm permitted one hundred and fifty paces from my Master's lamp, as long as they keep it on their person. I'd wish to go on adventures and see the grand lands and waters for myself and of my own free will."

"What if I could grant that for you?" Namjoon asked, his tone serious to let you know he was most definitely taking this into consideration.

"Namjoon, there is no such wish you can make for a Jinn. 'Tis written in the stars- the Jinn's powers are lent to the mortals merely because they are selfish creatures. Should they make a wish on the Jinn's behalf and not of their own wishes- why, it's unheard of. That is why we rely on deceit and trickery. I was only allowed to rescue my father because I'd be taking his place- and I'd never forgive myself if I let someone else fall into that same trap- most of all you, my Prince. Should you be confined to a prison, I'd lie down dead on the spot, grieving over someone I cared for sharing my fate, even if they have only a morsel of the suffering."

Namjoon sighs deeply, sitting beside you, head hanging low. "I only want to help you-you're the greatest friend I've ever had. I'm in your debt."

"These kind acts simply pay for the misdeeds I've done to your people, Namjoon," you assure him, hand on his own as you comfort him. "A Jinn's soul is black as the night- and yours is as white as the shine of a diamond. This is the least I can do. We have to give our all to ensure the happiness of those we..."

You trail off momentarily, unsure where your words were heading off to, and your pause has both of you stunned, the unfinished sentence hanging between you two.

Namjoon's breath fans over your face, and you only now realize how dangerously close your faces are to one another's. Not just your faces, but to be more precise, your lips. His plump ones barely centimeters from your perfectly carved ones. He tilts his head, and you think for a moment that he is surely a good kisser, having had much practice with the girls in his village, all of them being thoroughly satisfied during their throws of passion together.

It's when your lips part, and his fingers- still connected with your own- squeeze gently, as though to assure himself through the sense of touch that this wasn't a dream- that you pull away.

You stand, rising, pulling away from him. His hand hangs in midair, still reaching for your touch. You give him your typical stony expression, despite the fact you know all too well that he'll be able to see past your facade. He knows you better than any other mortal has- and you regret letting him get so close. Not physically, but emotionally.

Your voice is tight as you turn on your heel, refusing to meet his eye. "I'll bring the servants back- you've got an engagement to announce."

-

The Sultan's fat face beams with excitement, and you can tell from how he bounces on the balls of his feet that he is doing his best to contain himself. It's strange that such an old man who's clearly been lounging in his throne for the majority of his life was able to be this alive and bustling, the celebrations almost as festive as he. A grand dinner was made for the engagement party, and without Namjoon's knowledge, a gem nearly as big as her father sat upon the princess's ring finger, making her left hand the spectacle of the night. It was surely grand, everyone beaming and excited, though the leftover suitors grumbled about the table, frowning to themselves for being invited to this accursed event, though they'd be housed in the palace until the wedding, which would be mandatory to attend, rejected or not.

Prince Zandar, (the main suitor who was assured to win the princess's hand before Namjoon's arrival), groveled the most out of the men. He clutched his silverware so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and he snapped at nearly every servant girl who placed a new plate of food before him, barking for more or complaining about the littlest of things, demanding his food be sent back and redone out of sheer pettiness. You despised the man, for many of the servant girls you had to sit amongst on the rare occasions you pretended to do work, would note that despite how handsome he was, he would inappropriately grab passing servants or eye the nearby women. Rumor also had it that he's used one or two girls as his own personal forms of entertainment since it was evident that the princess wasn't interested in fulfilling the animalistic needs of her guests. It was because of this you had purposely avoided him during your stay at the castle, but his eyes had raked down your form more than once since you had begun serving one of the suitors near him.

"Sir Namjoon and I are most certainly ecstatic to announce the news of our engagement. The preparations for the wedding are to begin immediately, as it is expected to happen in a month. We know it seems rushed and rather soon, but we understand you do not wish to be kept from your abodes and families for much longer. Therefore we'll try to make the grandest, yet quickest, wedding for the benefit of everyone. My father has also humbly agreed to host the coronation for both I and Prince Namjoon during the wedding, and thus abdicating his throne."

"Anything for my darling girl, and of course my new son-in-law," the Sultan said, tears in his eyes, voice cracking with how weepy he was, emotion overtaking him. "My baby girl is finally a lady- it feels like yesterday I was cradling her in my arms, and now she's getting married! 'Tis a blessed day- if only your mother were here."

The princess's face softened for the first time, and the stony facade she held up was briefly dropped as she wrapped her arms around her father, cradling him in her arms as he did when she was a child, their eyes shiny and glistening from the tears they held back before the audience. The Sultan wiped away a tear, and you momentarily regret the insults you thought of regarding him and his ruling style, truly seeing before you a broken, albeit foolish, father. Still, he cared for his daughter, which was far more than the fathers you've served could say.

"My Betrothed, have you anything further to add to our engagement?" The princess turned to your prince, and his face went to one of surprise at being called upon. His eyes briefly scan the crowd before landing on your face, your lashes lowered demurely as a proper servant girl should keep them, but you peer up at him, eyes locking. You nod firmly, and it's as though his usual confidence fills him up again, swelling in his chest to the point it looks as though he'll burst, and he beams towards Princess Yasmin.

"Only that I wish we could be wedded by tomorrow- for I cannot wait to properly call you my wife, 'O Shining Star," he says, taking her hand in his and raising it to his lips, a feather-light kiss pressing against the smooth skin.

You feel a fire burning in the pit of your stomach, and you set the last platter before escorting yourself from the premises of the dining room, feeling your skin grow hot as the temperature rises.

Damn you. Damn you for falling for a mortal- for a man- for a master!

Love.

If you truly were- no, that is impossible- love is for foolish humans. For incompetent and ignorant mortals who want something to fill their mundane and pointless lives, where everyone they love and everything they care for will die, from their lives to their legacies. Love is but a mere distraction that leads to further chaos, for without drama, excitement, or gossip, you have nothing. Life is nothing. Love is the key to misery and excitement and action- a catalyst similar to yourself.

And it wasn't for you.

Jinn weren't capable of love. You're depicted as a monster for good reason- creatures of smoke, of green skin and pointy ears, deceitful and mischevious, curses brought upon the humans by the gods for them to atone for their many sins.

You've done evil, evil things. You committed horrible, atrocious acts. You've ruined lives and ended them, affecting nations and driving some mad. No one capable of love would do that. The part of you that was human had faded, no longer on this plane of existence- and all that was left is a smoky husk who seals unfortunate fates.

But what else could this feeling be? Every time you blink, your eyes shutting briefly to let your thick lashes kiss the apples of your cheeks, you see him. You hear his melodious voice fill your ears, poems and literary words whispered softly. You see his thick lips pull into a grin, dimples poking at the corners of his mouth, as though the gods pressed deep into his cheeks, their craftsmanship impeccable. His nervousness being masked with easy confidence, and his kindness, despite the lack of necessity. His humble nature, despite everything being handed to him on a literal silver platter now.

This was forbidden in the eyes of nature, and your feelings were unheard of. He loved the princess, and even if he felt the same, it couldn't be done. You wouldn't dare let him even attempt to share the same fate as you, forced to see the ones you dare even care for die before your eyes, serving and bending to the will of others. He wouldn't be trapped to the same vessel as you, but you know how selfless he was. He'd sacrifice himself for those he loved- and you prayed to the gods and the stars above that he didn't love you. You'd push him to the ends of the Earth before you allowed that to happen.

He couldn't throw everything away for you. Your fate was sealed by your own choices, and set in stone from what you decided to do with that power- with what little choices you were granted as a jinni.

You're out of breath when you get to a hallway, empty due to all of the servants either serving or cooking. Pressing your forehead against the wall, you take in deep breaths, letting yourself rest for a moment as you attempt to regain the composure you once prided yourself in. You were alone with your thoughts- but you wouldn't be for long.

An unfamiliar form presses against you from behind, and soft, meaty hands are before you on the wall, caging you in. His chest presses against your back, and you're smooshed between his body and the wall, his groin insistently rubbing against your backside.

"Where're you running off to?" Zandar asks huskily, his hot breath against the shell of your ear.

"Had to run off to the kitchen," you inform him, knowing that you'd be unable to stand up to him properly, or else you'd be in serious trouble.

He takes in a deep breath, nose nuzzled in your hair, and you feel yourself shiver as he breathes in your scent.

"You know, you're the prettiest woman I've ever seen- prettier than the princess, though you hold less promise. I've been looking for you everywhere, but you're never away from him." Prince Zandar hisses the pronoun like a curse, as though he couldn't stand to so much as say the name of the man who had stolen his short-lived glory.

"That is because the soon-to-be-Sultan is more of a man that you ever will be," you reply curtly, though he simply presses his hand against the back of your head, smooshing your face against the wall as he presses his body more firmly against yours.

"I see how he puts up with an attitude like yours- especially with a figure like that. You're lucky- if you were my mistress, I'd have your tongue cut out by now. I'll have you know, for your information, that I am far more than that phony on the princess's arm. I know what he really is."

"And what's that?" you question, huffing as you twist under his grip, pushing him back with reasonable strength where he's momentarily surprised but not alarmed. If you wish, you would be able to throw him through the walls, but that would only grant him a quick death. He didn't deserve that.

Zandar glowers, stepping forward, showing how he wasn't intimidated by your brief moment of strength. He may be far more physically soft than Namjoon, but if you were truly human, he'd definitely be stronger than you. Not that he had to know that little detail didn't exactly apply in this scenario. His face is close to yours, and you see his nostrils flare, and for a moment you expect smoke to billow into your face.

"An imposter," Zandar hisses, spitting the syllables in a venomous tone. "I don't know what sort of spell he's got everyone- from the Sultan to even you, a mere servant- under, but I'm going to put a stop to this. He thinks he's got everyone fooled, but just wait until the princess knows what he truly is. He's no prince- just some rat from the street."

You laugh in his face, a boisterous, unladylike laugh that fills the empty hallway. Losing composure but selling the ridiculousness of his beliefs, you find yourself becoming teary-eyed. Inside you were filled with dread and worry at his suspicions. "That is ridiculous- how could a street urchin get into the palace? I've worked for Prince Namjoon for years- I cannot once recall him so much as touching a rag."

"See? That's it! He's got these false memories that he's given everyone! Convincing them of Pagean Isles- and I wouldn't be surprised if he's tricked you with false memories, having them fill your mind." Prince Zandar is going off on a tangent now, his mind spinning, and he's got a crazed look in his eye.

"How would he twist the perceptions of many? It is an impossible feat." You sound haughty and disbelieving, but you know that the prince is too riled up with his suspicions to note how improperly you greet him.

Zandar turns to you, wide-eyed, before gripping you by your arms and pinning you to the wall. "There's only one way he could've done this," Prince Zandar says, his voice in a hushed whisper, as though he were scared of someone eavesdropping. His fingers dig into your arms so tightly that you know bruises will mark your skin. He says the words as though it were a sudden realization, the answer inches before his face, yet he was so blind not to see it before.

"A jinni."

-

"I know not of napkins or linen or flowers- but I must say one thing I'm fairly acquainted in is a taste for delicacies," Namjoon says, plucking a finger food from a passing servant as they bustled to get to the kitchen, ready for the taste test. The wedding was only a few weeks away, and everyone seemed to bounce on the balls of their feet from place to place, anxious and giddy to see their beloved princess shrouded in white.

"How would you know? The only delicacies that touched your tongue resided from the bottom of barrels," you remark, sweeping yourself to the side as a servant barrels past you. You feel the wind rush behind them, the breeze wafting around your face along with the smell of the latest delight. Fruits and chocolate- no one could go wrong with that.

"And it is precisely that fact that makes me such a good taste tester," Namjoon exclaims, plucking another from a servant as he eats it, squeezing his eyes shut as he savors the flavor. "I know bad food- and this most definitely isn't bad food."

"One would think you'd be more than acquainted with the fine dining behind these marble walls," you scoffed, though the usual light smile still tugged at the corner of your lips, as always when you were with him.

"I'm not used to anything yet. My whole life I had known only the clothes on my back and the only responsibility I bore was to survive- now I have to help pick out between fabrics of the exact same shade and color as well as ready myself to be an emperor- though she's doing more of the heavy lifting. I'm more so a trophy husband."

"And a very regal one at that," you laughed, smoothing over the fabric of the silks that had become wrinkled or needed adjusting. "I'm sure all will envy the handsome Emperor, whom the Queen will be more than willing to show off."

Namjoon scoffed at that. "I'm nothing more than a statue to admire, I presume."

"Well, hopefully, you're still clothed. Artists seem to be fascinated with the naked human body-and something tells me you can't go about the court as bare as the day you came into this world," you say, voice snarky as you lightly teased the man.

Namjoon chuckled softly at that before a concerned expression replaced the ease. "You don't suppose Princess Yasmin... will want kids, do you?"

You frowned at that. "Well, an heir will be required, I'm sure. Not immediately, however- though it is expected. I'm sure if you're uncomfortable with the idea of being a father, however, she'll be more than understanding. More than likely she'll figure something out- the woman's brilliant beyond her years. I'm sure she'd make a fine jinni."

"I want kids, sure- but I guess not in this way," Namjoon sighs. You question yourself whether or not to pry further, but Namjoon snaps his head up and shakes his head, as though clearing his mind. "Enough on that- that'll be so far ahead anyway. We should focus on something else."

"What is it you suggest, Master?" you question. There wasn't much to do other than observe the servants bustling around, and even then, you both were required to look after it and approve of any choices that are to be made. Even a groom and guest had his responsibilities for a wedding, you supposed.

Namjoon leaned in close, and his life and warmth radiated onto you, making you tense up automatically. A scent that was strangely a combination of both musky and fresh wafted over you, and you did all you could not to look at the man. "Do you see the servant holding the bowl of grapes over her head?"

"I do," you nod, eyeing her immediately.

"I saw her put a few of the spoiled grapes in the pocket of her dress. Try and take them."

You turned to him in surprise. "You mean pickpocket?"

Namjoon grinned back. "Yes- part of me misses it, admittedly. It was my main source of income if you will. Just casually bump into the person and slip your hand in their pocket to steal whatever's inside. Besides, it's just spoiled grapes- so it's not a crime... like I did on the streets, I suppose."

"I'm not quite sure, Sir Namjoon," you murmur, biting the inside of your cheek. It'd be much easier- though unnecessary- to use magic to accomplish the task. However, you supposed that was part of the challenge.

"It's easier than it seems- let me demonstrate." Namjoon holds you by the shoulders, as though grounding you to Earth to keep you from floating above to the heavens. He takes a step back before walking forward, shoulder bumping against yours. It's at that moment you feel nimble, slender fingers slip into the pocket of your dress, and Namjoon pulls out the piece of fabric from within. Had you not been so hyperaware of his every movement, let that be for your feelings or your keen senses, you know you wouldn't have even noticed the action.

"See? Just like that." Namjoon beams at the natural movement. It seemed as easy as breathing to him, and you could sense an air of comfort as he practiced the action- one he hadn't genuinely felt in the palace. He handed you the fabric, and you clutch it in your hand, biting the inside of your cheek.

"Fine," you briskly say, marching towards the girl in question with a new sense of determination. You could practically feel the gaze of your Master burning into the back of your head, but you tried to shake off the hyperawareness as you inched closer to her.

You bumped into her- shoulders colliding- but not hard enough to completely stagger her. Just enough to get her attention as she clutched the bowl of fruit on her head a bit tighter. Your fingers slipped into the pocket, feeling around the cotton before getting a singular spoiled grape, the fruit squishy and deflated between your fingers. You weren't nearly as graceful as Namjoon was- a bit more on the jerky side in contrast to your usual movements- but you had succeeded. You felt an air of pride surmise you despite how insignificant the action truly was, and at that moment you felt silly.

Slipping the grape into your pocket, you turn to the girl with a grimace. "My deepest apologies," you say, slightly bowing your head as you scurry on. You couldn't turn straight back to Namjoon- otherwise, it would be well spotted that you simply walked over to bump into the girl. So instead you slip deeper into the hustle and bustle of servants, careful as you moved around them with elegance and grace, not a single action of skin brushing against skin.

"You're the servant of Prince Namjoon, Sir of the Pagean Isles, and Emperor to Be- correct?"

You turn to a young servant girl- one who had probably reached puberty but a few years ago- talking to you directly. Surprised, you allow yourself to nod. "That I am."

The girl squealed and grasped your wrist, yanking you along past the scurrying servants who paid no mind to you. You were dragged into one of the kitchens, the scene bizarrely even more fast-paced in comparison. You were soon greeted with a young group of teenagers in one of the quieter sections of the kitchen, their breaths held tight in their lungs as you approached.

"It's her! Maiden of the Pagean Isles-" the young girl whispered. "Prince Namjoon's servant!"

"Oh, it's her!"

"You're so pretty!"

"Oh gods, we have so much to ask!"

You blinked in surprise, stunned. They wanted to talk to you? "What is it you ask, children?" you question, though your speech is far more eloquent than necessary, seeing as these girls clearly never learned how to so much as read- being common kitchen servants and all. Not that it was their fault.

"Have you seen the Prince shirtless?"

"Are you upset your lover is getting married?"

"Are you in love with the Prince?"

Ah, that made more sense.

"I'm no concubine of the Prince- and never have been. We are simply servant and employer, though I know rumors circulate. It's understandable you want something to quench your thirst for information, however," you say. You couldn't remember the last time you were their age- back when you were human. Were you this nosy?

"No way- you look at him the way my sister looks at the bakery boy," one girl giggles, receiving a jab from another- who you presume is her sister.

"You seem to be at least friends- all of the employers here are mean," another remarks.

"His Highness is just a very kind man, that's all. I'm sure he'd treat all of you with the same dignity and respect- like the princesses you are inside," you say, smiling softly as you tap one on the nose- the youngest, from the looks of it- earning a giggle. "Now, if you do excuse me, Your Royal Highnesses, I must depart and attend to servantly business."

You glide away, though your enhanced hearing picks up on their busy whispers and high pitched tones, and you can't help but grin at their excitement. Once you're reunited with Namjoon, he gives you a questioning look.

"That took you longer than expected- did something go wrong, oh jinni?"

You shake your head, your cheeks beginning to suffer a small ache from the smiling. "Not at all- quite the opposite, Your Highness. Something went horribly, horribly right if I do say so myself." You reach into your pocket to pull out the small, spoiled grape, flicking it at Namjoon as you laughed. "And I must say, you certainly are charming with the ladies. Think they're a bit too young to be your type, however."

Namjoon gave you a questioning look, both of his eyebrows skyrocketing into his hairline, eyes wider than the biggest grapes in the palace, and you cackled in response, knowing that despite how goofy he looked in this moment, you knew exactly why all seemed to fall for him.

-

'Twas but a week before the wedding, and preparations were at work. The finishing touches were being made, and royalty was flooding throguh the gates. Despite the abundance of staff and the fact you were typically attending to Namjoon, even you were somehow swept up in the busy-work, let it be through scouring the kitchens, adding to the groom's or bridesmaids' attire, or showing guests to their room. You suspected the last one had something to do with your pretty face.

At the moment you had finally been given a chance to breathe, escorting Namjoon in the midst of night throguh the wide and spacious hallways, all of the guests fast asleep, and the very few servants who were still milling around attending to more important matters, considering the banners that draped the walls were pristine and the flowers bloomed favorably. No one else was in the hallways, save for you and your master.

Namjoon was eerily quiet, as he had been the entire day. His outfit had been tailored to perfection, fitting with precise adjustments to accommodate for his lean and proportionate body. Though he had to suck in his breath and puff out his chest during the procedure, you wouldn't have thought it irked him that much. Perhaps it was the glares of the rejected suitors or the pats on the backs he got from those who lacked green eyes.

Something seemed to be troubling him as he pondered deep in thought, seemingly going through the motions throughout the preparations. One would expect a groom-to-be to have a bit more excitement or anxiety, but instead, Namjoon appeared to be a bit more distracted.

Usually, he would tell you what was on his mind by now. As someone who's lived countless millenniums, surely your ancient mind concealed by young skin would give some form of answers that was buried beneath the soft tissue of his brain.

"What seems to be troubling you, Sir Namjoon? Ask and I'll attend," you speak, eyeing him warily.

Namjoon sighed. "Can we... Can we drop this act, for just a moment? I know it's not truly an act considering our true positions, and that you're always conscious of any eavesdroppers and such, but... Y/N, I must speak to you of extremely personal matters."

Your brows raised, and you reached out with your senses, searching for any lingering eyes or open ears. You couldn't take any chances. "Master, might this wait until we are in your quarters?"

"No- it's urgent. I need to lift this boulder from my chest before my lungs burst," Namjoon says. "and drop the formalities, please."

"You of all people should know how especially wary we must be in these open halls. I've already informed you of the young prince who suspects of your deception, and if he were to find out my true identity, it'd be only a matter of time before he'd find the lamp as well."

"Impossible- I make sure to keep it on my person at all times, despite the tailoring," Namjoon assures you. It had taken a bit of trouble to convince the seamstresses that it was a tradition for the groom to have a lamp at his hip, to signify the eternal love that would burn bright throughout the marriage.

It was much further trouble to convince the people, however, that the reason that none of the guests were from the Pagean Isles was that they had simply insisted on another wedding or perhaps a honeymoon in their own residences, specifically in the hopes to see their new queen. You supposed the princess would do her best to go along with the lie, but you figured it would only be a matter of time before Namjoon would have to quell the suspicions and wish for a kingdom of his own to rule. You had already rehearsed the last conversation in your head, as though preparing yourself for the moment you'd be whisked away into the lamp for another few hundred years.

You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath as you realize he wasn't going to take no for an answer. Namjoon was stubborn like that- one of the many reasons you admired him so.

"What is this urgent business that needs attending? Have you decided on your final wish, Young Master?"

"No, I..." Namjoon gulped, taking a step forward. Your back pressed against the marble wall, and Namjoon caged you in, his gentle hands on your shoulders as he looked in your eyes. You felt your heart palpitating at the same beat as his, the life and sensations of anxiety and fear filling you to the brim.

"I don't want to get married to Princess Yasmin."

Your eyes were wide as you looked to him. "Cold feet? What's brought this to mind? This is the love of your life- one who comes with beauty and grace and gold. She's everything you could've wished for. In fact, might I remind you, that is precisely what you did!"

Namjoon took in a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to muster the courage to spit out whatever he needed to say. "No, she's not. She isn't... She isn't the love of my life." His eyes shot open, locking with your golden ones. "You are."

You felt as though all of the air in your lungs rushed out, and despite the fact you felt the compulsion to search for breath you didn't need, you held it tight. "What?" you question, your face paling. Never, in all of your years, have you found something that shocked you so. This was it.

"I don't love Yasmin. It took me so long to realize that I was in love with my perception of her, and not the real thing. I was in love with the painting but not the model. And when I met you, I jumped on the opportunity, and though she's everything I could've wanted, she isn't what I needed. You... You're careful and brilliant, my match in every way. You compliment me and bring out the best in me- the real me. I feel like my best version around you. You're the most mysterious, yet authentic person I could've encountered, and I only now know the true meaning of a facade. Everyone here wears a mask to impress except you- because you don't need to. You're just you and despite the fact you're disguised as a servant, eyes follow, and not just for your beauty. So much of it is because you draw people in naturally, and jinni or not, I have no doubt that I would've been equally enchanted as I am now had I simply seen you in a market when I was stealing apples."

Your breath hitched. "N-Namjoon, you don't know what you're saying. It's just the nerves from the wedding."

"It isn't. I know it hasn't. I love everything about you, Y/N. You need to believe me. If you told me to, we'd run away far from this place to be together. You're the only one who doesn't have ulterior motives and truly wishes for the best, despite the fact you fulfill wishes for others. I'd give you the world if I could, and I'll try my damned best because it's what you deserve and more. You... You're the most beautiful person to have walked this Earth, even the gods quiver when they look down upon your grace and wisdom. You're a constellation that belongs in the stars."

You took in all of the information at Namjoon's confession, and you knew exactly what you needed to do.

You let out a bitter, coarse laugh, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes out of appeared humor. You toss your head back as Namjooon steps back out of confusion, and you feel a rush of relief once his hands are off of you, and for once you retract from reaching out to sense the life that pulsated throughout him.

"Do you really think I could love you?"

Namjoon's face falters, and you see the crestfallen expression, one that you were familiar with whenever you glanced at your reflection but had never before seen on the mortal beauty. "I..."

You force yourself to take in a shaky breath, eyes burning as you force yourself to look him in the eye, using your infamous silver tongue. At this moment your blood boiled at a degree hotter than molten lava, coursing through your veins and igniting a flame of anger within.

"Love, at first sight, is a bewitched curse. Thy image casts spells that decides one's betrothed. You fell not for the inner workings of her mind nor the witty personality she covens, but rather her slender fingertips and bronze skin. A golden goddess you sought, and that which you received, only to have you feeling less than copper in comparison. She was all you had asked for and more- and yet you find yourself disappointed, for it is what you wanted, but not what you needed. What had changed you was the long column of her neck and the lovely head that rested upon it, but not the mind and thoughts kept within. You appreciate them but they aren't what captivated you.

"And thus you project thy infatuation on what you are comfortable with, whose inner workings you've come to appreciate and know without the majestic beauty blinding you, without smitten thoughts and lovelorn glances blinding you from the actual perception, but one cannot know whether or not you truly do love that. Looks are mere perceptions of one's mind, and now that your perception of another is skewed, you put your faith into another you believe to be true. However, it is not true. Nothing about the perception you have is true, as the reality you know is but a mere illusion, and you should fear the one who wields the power to snap their fingers and unravel everything you thought you knew, as the truth is more damaging than any of the temporary things you hold to value- let it be knowledge, love, lives, or items. Fear the truth, and thus fear me, for it is I who shall be your undoing."

"What I try to express to you is that my feelings for you are genuine, and though I know love, at first sight, isn't real, my love for you is. I have cast away my perception of the golden goddess, and the me before is a fool who pales in comparison to the me with you. I admit I was foolish and selfish at the time, but believe me when I tell you they've changed completely," Namjoon says, his voice in almost a pleading tone as he stutters. His voice cracks, as does his princely mirage, and you're left staring at a peasant in silk, an imposter and broken boy that no other had seen. The vulnerable side of him. He placed your hand on his beating chest, and you feel the life, heartbreak, fear, and anxiety course through you from the simple touch. He stares you in the eye. "Please... Believe me."

You wretch your hand away, as though disgusted, and you feel so overwhelmed with the emotions he flooded you with.

"Even if your intentions are good and pure, this could never work. You don't love me at all, you simply love how I look. You of all people should know this is a husk that I wear, a stolen face and body. I can appear as whoever I wish, and my true form is a monstrous one."

"I didn't fall for your looks. I fell for the princess's looks at first, but I fell for something deeper when it came to you," Namjoon argued.

"Really?" you question. Your features dissolve and reshape, and soon enough you're looking at Namjoon with an adoring face that shone brighter than a thousand and one suns, a smile he had never seen on Princess Yasmin's face until now. It was bitter and angry and cold- everything a monster like you should be. "Is that so, future-husband?" Your voice mimics hers, the stoic and calm demeanor matched exactly.

Namjoon's eyes go wide, and his heart palpitates. He steps back. "Y/N, stop-"

"But I am older than the dunes we live in, Master. If it weren't for my eternal looks, I'd be old and wrinkled, withering away into ash and dust to blow away with the wind." As you speak, the Princess's face ages, your skin paling and sagging, wrinkles upon wrinkles as your hair turns white before falling at your feet. Your back hunches over and you stoop, your hands reaching out with gnarled knuckles and long talons, a crone to be reckoned with. You latch onto Namjoon, who in fear swipes his hands away to pull from your tight grip, and you dissolve into a pile of dust at his feet, the clothes on your back now a heap on the floor.

"Y/N, I get it, stop! I don't care if your mind is ancient or your face is youthful, how shallow do you believe me to be? I'm no avarice prince nor haughty suitor- you of all people should realize that I'm still a pauper at heart, and though I'm masked by a lie within these walls, I can never bring myself to lie to you."

You reassemble yourself, wearing your normal face once more, the youthful, familiar appearance allowing him to exhale. That was a mistake, for one should be wary when the caged lioness stops snarling.

"The problem isn't of deception on your part- but one on mine. You are a fool to think I'm capable of any emotion other than pure, sniveling hatred. Love is a burden I do not bear, for it is the way of my kin. Have you not heard monstrous tales of jinni who lash out upon their victims? Many mortals believe we were sent to grant desires, but instead, we are sent to whip the lashes of the gods' fury upon their people. I am a hideous beast, through and through, inside and out."

Your skin turns dark blue, your golden eyes getting bigger as you grow in size, pearly teeth instead forming into long, yellow fangs. You tower over Namjoon with each step until it is he who is pressed against the wall, your face one of an atrocity as drool drips from your forked tongue.

Namjoon, once erratic at your transformations, seems to have composed himself. "I've stated before, I don't care what you look like. 'Tis your golden heart, not eyes, that I've fallen for."

You shrink back at that, recoiling once more into your human state. "You are a fool, dear Master. You don't know me in the slightest. I am beyond comprehension to a simple mortal such as yourself- and there's nothing that can change that."

"Why? Because you've got eons of memories and wisdom stored in that brilliant head of yours? We both know that power is a curse seldom truly wish to bear. You can tell me everything about what you've learned and I'll be utterly enchanted- you of all people should know that."

You shake your head solemnly. "I don't mean a monster just from the outside- I've made terrible mistakes that affect people to this day."

"What are these atrocities you speak of?" Namjoon questions.

"I've twisted words and fooled mankind with my own disgust and judgments. A man consumed by gluttony asked for enough food to sustain him the rest of his life, and so I had him eat his own flesh until he was no more than bone. A man wanted to be the most beautiful creature to walk the Earth, and that request I fulfilled, but he became so enamored with his reflection that he died by the pool where he'd gaze at his image. A woman wished for the sister she was constantly jealous of to suffer from the same amount of grief that she had during their childhood- and so the sister's lineage was a barren one. I've spread plagues throughout cities and wiped out populations. I've killed and I've hung and I've reaped pleasure from the lives of the innocents. I've made children into orphans and women into widows. And not once did I feel remorse. 'Tis not only the Jinn's looks that are described as ugly; it is also their personality."

Namjoon was quiet at that, comprehending the information you gave him. You look at him solemnly, dragging your finger down your chest delicately, a tear revealing as though someone was pulling stitches out of a fresh cut, pulling back at the false skin to reveal tendrils of dark blue smoke. Where there was supposed to be a heart, muscles, flesh, bone, and blood, was only smoke. That's all you truly were. "How could one possibly fall for a heartless creature such as I?"

"I don't think you're like that anymore," he says softly, licking his lips as they began to dry. "I know you made mistakes through what little free will you had- but I can tell that you have remorse for your actions now, even if you didn't then. You didn't care for humanity, the community you were once part of, but that isn't true anymore. Despite what you believe and what you told, my feelings for you ring true, dear Y/N."

He takes his hands in yours, clutching them tightly, and you feel it. The love that causes his pupils to dilate, his heart to palpitate, and the breath to knock out of his lungs. It overwhelms you and fills you to the brim, and you're swimming in his emotion, a sensation you would've never thought to be true.

You slip your hands from his, tears brimming your eyes despite all of the willpower you could muster. "I can't let you throw away what you've been given and what you've worked for. You desired the princess, with the riches and luxury and power it came with, and your wish is my command. I intend to see your request fulfilled, and I won't let that magic go to waste. You are young and foolish, and though you believe yourself to be my fool, in the blink of an eye you'll be buried in the sand, and I'll have served countless more after you."

Namjoon's eyes brim with tears as his voice cracks. "Y/N... please..."

Your head hangs low, and you let yourself begin to dissipate into smoke, billowing around him. "Love between a mortal and a jinni can only lead to heartbreak and despair. I wish only the best for you, for you're kind and honest and brilliant. That is the reason why I cannot let you tumble to your doom, as I've led many others. I'm sorry to reject you so, but you'll forgive me eventually. This is for the best... because... because..."

"Because?" There's a lilt in his voice as he looks up at you with false hope, tears streaming down his cheeks silently. He was a very pretty crier.

You feel your heart sink in your chest, and it's at that moment you remember you have none. You have no heart, you have no feelings, and when it came down to it you had nothing. Not even him.

You swallow the lump in your throat. "Because I regret even meeting you."

Rocking Against the waves of the ocean Forever confined to A cold prison No sleep, food, or company Servant and slave Bound by shackles To punish rather than save A child sacrificed A girl shattered A human broken A monster created

-

'Twas five days before the wedding when the princess invited Prince Namjoon to dine together in the garden, in a sense as a private picnic. The guards and maidens in waiting stood watch, eyes trained on the couple, though they were at a far enough range where they'd be unable to eavesdrop on the conversation.

You were close by, however, unable to wander far from Namjoon's perimeter. Despite the air that clung tight to the two of you, it wasn't as though you were granted many choices when it came to how close in proximity you were to each other. Therefore, you had hidden in the form of a butterfly, hanging delicately to one of the orchids closest to the two.

"I figured I should become better acquainted with my future husband- proper dates are part of courtship, after all," Princess Yasmin said, her legs crossed beneath her on the silk of which the two sat.

"I agree entirely," Namjoon said, popping one of the berries from the meal that had been prepared. "I'll say, the preparations have everyone buzzing about. I don't know the first thing about participating in all of it."

"So long as you say 'I do', I'm sure it'll turn out wonderfully," the Princess says cooly, a slight smile tugging at her lips. "I'm not fond of much of it myself, but my father is rather insistent. 'Let it be a wedding that'll be boasted about for centuries!' he says. It's as though he wishes the gods to envy us from their constellations above."

"Only the finest for his daughter, so it seems," Namjoon laughs. "I must say, in that regard, I agree with the Sultan."

"I think much of it has to do with the fact that I've finally become content with the idea of becoming a wife and giving him an heir. He's always wanted a son, but when my mother died, that wasn't an option any longer."

"I'm sorry to hear of that," Namjoon frowns. "But I assure you that you're far better than any shining boy your father could've produced. You'll make the kingdom far prouder than any brother would've."

"I appreciate your sentiments. You know exactly what to say- though makes you dangerous," Yasmin jokes. "Perhaps I'll use you as a secret weapon in the event that we go to war."

"Charm can only get you so far on the battlefield, I'm afraid," Namjoon countered. "A wink and a smile will only convince five soldiers at a time to drop their weapons."

A genuine smile spread upon the Princess's lips this time. "Then your humor and jokes will surely compensate tenfold."

"Ah, I hadn't thought of that one. Perhaps I should be at the front."

The two shared a grin, and it appeared there was actual hope for genuine feelings to blossom on the princess's part. Your wings fluttered similarly to your heart, and though you felt it sink in whatever form of a chest you had, you knew it was best. Namjoon simply had a temporary infatuation with you due to his frustrations of trying to get closer to the Princess, whose walls could rival your own.

"You know, I've spoken to Miss Y/N about joining my ladies in waiting. I'm sure she already informed you of that information, however. Still, I figured I'd remind you so that you'd know to turn to me whenever you wished to see her. I completely understand regarding your relationship, of course."

Namjoon's face paled at that. "Our relationship? She said we had a relationship?"

The princess glanced up from one of the fruits she was picking up, locking eyes with Namjoon's nervous gaze. You could hear his heartbeat echoing through your ears, and you wanted nothing more than to bring your palm to your forehead.

She lowered her voice. "Your friendship despite the unusual circumstances."

"Oh, of course," Namjoon said, clearing his voice. "Sorry, rumors mill about, I would simply be surprised if she had accidentally said something that would've skewed the perception in line with the rumors."

"Miss Y/N is careful with her words, though. I'm surprised you hadn't made her one of your royal advisors," Princess Yasmin comments. She studies him for a moment, her voice barely above a whisper despite the fact the people around for their security couldn't eavesdrop anyway. "Could it be you've got cold feet, 'O Betrothed?"

"What? Of course not. My heart is devoted to one and only one, dear Princess," Namjoon assures her.

"Then might I kiss you, groom-to-be? Though our culture and traditions are old fashioned, especially behind these marble walls, I very much doubt ant of the onlookers will have the courage to speak up. One can't speak highly of their morals when their job requires them to be prepared to kill on sight," the Princess tests, eyeing him carefully. "Besides, we'd have to consummate the marriage sooner or later. One of our many duties is to produce a shining heir."

"Of course. It would be an honor to place a kiss upon thy ruby lips," Namjoon spoke.

You were unsure of whether or not Princess Yasmin had even kissed someone before, but she showed no hesitancy, sculpting her mouth to his, petal-like lips tugging against his own. Once she pulled back, she studied him, as though to see whether or not he was tense. It was odd how indifferent she seemed towards all of it, especially considering the fact they had an audience.

"If you wish, we can cancel the wedding. I won't lie and say it won't be burdensome, but I'm more than willing. We can even fake your death after we're married and I'm coronated as Queen- I promise to grieve your death for ten years minimum. By all means, however, let me be the last to stand in the way of true love."

"That isn't the case at all, bride-to-be," Namjoon says, eyes wide. "I... Y/N has more than assured me that this wedding would be best. It'd be best for all involved, in fact. Not to mention the fact I've had my eyes laid on you since the moment I saw you. I'm sure many have told you what a vision you are to behold."

"But is it true?" she presses on, her voice in a hushed whisper.

Namjoon's quiet for a moment. "She's more than assured me that she has no feelings whatsoever for me. I'd rather not go over the details, but I want to follow through with her wishes. She's wiser than I in many ways."

The Princess hums, lips pursed as she bites into a piece of fruit. "If that's the case... I suppose we must let the wedding commence, shouldn't we?"

"We should," Namjoon confirms.

-

It was three days before the wedding when you were called to the Princess's quarters. She welcomed you with open arms, a warm, soft smile gracing her lips, though it didn't show her teeth nor reach her eyes. You accept her embrace, held in her arms as she calls you sister.

"Come, we've much to discuss," she says softly. "I've even had my ladies in waiting leave me be for these moments. I've not a second to myself these days, though it is a curse I've had since I was born. Privacy is a privilege not even the rich can afford."

"Might I ask why it is you've beckoned me to your side once more?" you question, though you know in the future it was quite possible there would be more to come.

"One on one, we must speak. We are women of power, you and I. I, a ruler, or ruler to be, more precisely. And you, a jinni, though I'm sure you've already become well aware of the fact that I know what you are."

"You're more observant than scholars and wanderers alike," you compliment.

A delicate shrug graces her shoulders. "'Tis because they didn't have a woman's touch. We girls have to pay close attention to detail, isn't it so?"

"Quite a truth that rings true through the ages," you hum, the two of you walking side by side. It felt good, to act as oneself. Sure, you had Namjoon, but seeing how things were between you two at the moment, you couldn't exactly stretch out as you once could with him. Besides that, the Princess wasn't a master of your lamp. In that sense, you could truly call her a friend. At least as close to one as you girls could afford.

"It appears that the Prince pines for another now," Yasmin comments, walking forward as you step by her side. "Before you speak, know there's no use in denying it. I've already made it clear that I know a lie when I see one, no matter how excellent, and though you've done well when it comes to crafting this one, he's transparent at best when it comes to his feelings for you."

"He's lived only twenty-four summers- he doesn't know the difference between infatuation, lust, and love," you say.

"I believe he does, on the contrary. He's lusted after girls- I can tell with how easily he charms the ones around here- and he was infatuated with me. With you, however... It is neither, for he knows you as a person, not as a sexual object nor an idol. He need not project for he sees you as what you are. Even you're aware that he truly didn't know me nor love me, we were both content with that. However, that no longer seems to be the case."

"He doesn't know me- not truly. I've lived and learned an infinite amount of lives and knowledge. How could one possibly hope to know one such as myself in but a span of a few months?"

"We know each other not from their knowledge nor intelligence, but from their words, thoughts, and actions. It is what makes a character. It doesn't matter how many scrolls one reads, nor how many lives they live. If that were the case, those would define who we are," the Princess says quietly.

You don't quite know how to respond to that.

"I assume he confessed- I garnered as much," Yasmin says. "I also assume that you didn't react the way he had hoped."

"That would be a massive understatement," you sigh to yourself. It felt strange, opening up to the Princess of all people about the complexities of your relationship with Namjoon- especially considering the fact that she was his bride-to-be.

"What did you say?"

"I said the most awful things. I questioned how he could possibly believe I'd feel for him, and how he fell so vainly for you, along with how we could never be for what... what I am," you breathe, feeling the guilt wrack at your brain as you say the words aloud. "To top it all off, I said I regretted meeting him."

The Princess was quiet for a moment, comprehending all of it. You wait for her judgment, for a cold glare and sneer. Instead, as always, she surprises you. "I understand why you did it."

You didn't have to look at her in surprise and ask for her to explain, because, in that one look, you knew that she knew as well. You two got each other's motives, always having to work for the greater good and for others first, at the expense of one's own happiness. She wasn't your equal in power, but she got you on a deeper level. If she could, why couldn't Namjoon?

"If you do change your mind about all of it, however, inform me. I'll come up with something to let you two be together. I can tell that he's head over heels for you. He never even looked at me that way- but he's given you those puppy-doll eyes for months now."

"I won't be changing my mind. Not only is this the best option for him, but it also is for you. It would look suspicious if you were to fake his death immediately, and no doubt that, despite your grievances, you'll be married immediately afterward."

"I suppose you're right," Yasmin sighs. "There really isn't much more we can do, hm? This is... for the best."

"For the kingdom."

"For everyone involved."

"For him," you say, a lump in your throat as you picture him in your head. No doubt you'll have to convince him to make a wish sooner or later. It'll be best to help everyone move on.

"You should tell him the truth, though. For closure. Before his mind had been brought towards the future, but if you don't tell him, it shall always remain in the past," she spoke softly. "He deserves the truth, as does anyone else. Everyone deserves honesty- even the liars."

For someone not even a fraction of your age, she was wise.

-

It was the day of the wedding, and your dear Prince looked as regal as ever.  His silken outfit made him look like the crown jewel, and everything about him looked as royal as ever. Everything except his hands, which, despite being studded with jewels and rings, were rough and calloused. They would never be a prince's hands, but a constant reminder instead of the pain and hard work he had to endure as a peasant.

He had been granted but two hours before the wedding to himself, left in his outfit to contemplate his thoughts. You resided in the room as well, all of his belongings already being converted to a new suite that he and the princess were to share that night. You had no doubt their children would be beautiful, and you prayed to the gods that they would wear his dimples and share his copper eyes.

Namjoon stared in the mirror on the vanity, sitting down before it, his eyes locked with his reflection's.

Tears had begun to slip down his cheeks, and he choked on the lump in his throat.

Your heart crumbled, and you thought back to the Princess's words from three days ago. You ache for him, feeling his energy and emotions radiate off of him in melancholy waves. You hesitantly step forward behind him, reaching down to wrap your arms around him in an embrace. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, and his nose nuzzles into the side of your hair. You don't worry about ruining the bridesmaid's dress that the Princess insisted you wear, instead choosing to let his tears softly hit the fabric.

"I'm sorry," you say, your voice hoards despite the fact you hadn't screamed nor cried that day. "I truly am."

"I am too," Namjoon speaks softly, holding onto you, his grip tight around the arms that gave him a loving embrace. "I love you."

You gulp, feeling tears spring up. "I know."

"Despite everything?"

"Despite everything," you say, a lump forming in your throat. "I didn't mean what I said. Namjoon... You're the most genuine and loving man I've met, and you're unlike any other. I said what I did because... because I feel the same, and I didn't know how to push you away. That didn't seem to work though, did it? Here we are." You chuckle softly at that when you realize fresh tears had fallen on your own cheeks now. You couldn't remember the last time you cried, nor the last time you felt so vulnerable. "The problem isn't that we couldn't... it's that we shouldn't."

"If you said so, we could walk away from all of this right now. You know I would," Namjoon promises, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple.

You shake your head, burying your face further into the warm skin at the nape of his neck. "This is for the best. The princess needs you, for the other suitors aren't even half the man you are. Even if we were to fake your death after the coronation, it would look too sketchy and she'd be subjected to another marriage, but this time with a tainted reputation. You're the best hope they have for Sultan- and you'd know how to actually make a difference. Do you want to prove the falsehoods I claimed and show yourself to be selfish?"

"No," he admitted. "I want you... but that's unfair to everybody."

"This is for the best," you say with a solemn voice. "You have potential with her- you truly do. You had feelings before, and I'm sure they can reappear with time. She's fond of you, and the two of you have more than enough chemistry. You can make it work and be happy with her."

"I don't want to be happy with her- I want to be happy with you. I need to," he insists, his voice cracking, as though he were a little kid whining over a toy. You smiled lightly at the comparison.

"You don't need me anymore- my job is done. I suggest you make your wish quickly so that we'll both be able to move on. The sooner you forget me, the better. I'll be no more than a fairytale."

"What will happen to you?"

You shrug simply, raising yourself, though still embracing him. You kiss his soft locks, careful not to mess up his hair. "I'll live many eons more and serve countless more masters until our world is destroyed, and I'm smoke drifting through space and orbiting around stars, as the gods wish. You will be nothing more than a moment in time, as all mortals are. However, you'll be the moment I cherished."

"That seems to be a cruel fate," he sighs.

You smile at that, more tears rolling down your cheeks. "Isn't it? A tragically beautiful one at that."

His face is shiny with tears as he tilts his head back to look at you. You wipe his tears with your thumbs, cradling his face in your hands as you stare at each other, eyes locked despite seeing the other in an upside down sense.

"If we must be subjected to irreversible, irreversible fates, can we have one last moment together? To get us through the scriptures written for us through the stars' alignments?"

"Your wish is my command," you whisper softly, one of your tears landing on his cheek.

His voice cracks. "Can I kiss you?"

Your eyes water even more to the point where you can't see him clearly. "I highly doubt that's a good idea, Master."

"It most definitely isn't," Namjoon confirms, sighing heavily. "I just..."

He looks so heartbroken, a crestfallen expression consuming him. Almost without thought, your lips swoop down to catch his, a tender kiss being shared between you two. His soft, plush lips are trapped in your own, and he leans his head back to kiss you properly, making the press of your mouth against his all the more firm. His hand comes up to bury itself in your locks, keeping you in place. Both of you could taste the salt of the tears that slipped down to where your lips intertwined, but neither of you cared. You just felt him, all of him, through that single movement. The despair, the heartbreak, the acceptance. It was so intense it felt as though it were your emotions too.

You break off from him for a moment, staring down at you. His fingers trail through your hair, from the roots to the ends, twirling it between the slender digits as his eyes lock with yours. His gaze is still soft and watery.

"I love you," he says once more. "Everything about you- your lyrically written words and your perfect imperfections. You're so enchanting that it's easy to believe you're not human. I'll tell my children about the ethereal vision they should've had the honor to behold."

"Curses upon you, Namjoon, for raising my standards for Masters for centuries to come," you say softly, offering a weak grin as you trace his jawline with your fingertips.

He grins, a small chuckle emitting from his throat, and the action causes more tears to slip from the sides of his face. "Say it again: my name. You don't say it often, and I want some of my last memories to be of you saying my name. Lord knows I'll have to make my third and final wish eventually. It burdens me to keep you as a prisoner to my whim and desires."

"Namjoon," you say, pressing your lips against his once more, the taste of him as addicting as it was alluring. Oh, how you've stared at these lips for far too long. "Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon," you whimper into his mouth, letting him greedily swallow the words.

Namjoon pulls from you for but a moment, and before you knew it, you were being pulled into his lap, your skirt riding up your thighs along with his hands, both of your legs straddling his lap. He pressed his lips firmly against your own, trapping any protests with his mouth, screwing his eyes shut as he felt your soft skin beneath his fingertips, as though trying to remember it and ingrain it into his mind.

You let your hands roam over his broad shoulders, traveling into the silky locks and over the back of his neck, pressing his body firmly against your own, closing your eyes. You wanted the embrace to be permanent- even if it were only through muscle memory.

His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, lips latching and roaming over every bare inch of skin they could find. You pull him closer to your body, tilting your head back and craning your neck to give him better access to the canvas that was your skin.

His hands ran up your dress, warm palms roaming up and down your thighs and waist, pressing and digging firmly into the soft flesh. His lips latched down to the buttons of your bridesmaid's dress, quickly undoing the buttons with his skillful mouth. You simply whimper, staring down and offering no protest. How sinful, that he was committing such atrocities with you but an hour or so before he was to be wed. Still, your mind was so hazy with lust and lost that you couldn't bring yourself to care, simply leaning back further as he pressed soft kisses down from the valley of your breasts, navel, and belly button.

You came back up as though for air, only to press your lips against his. You wanted so badly to undress him, to see the smooth expanse of tan, golden skin. To feel his heart beating firmly beneath your palm, assuring you he was far more alive than you would ever be, and despite that you were glad. However, you were pressed for time, and what you yearned most was for him to be closer to you than you had ever been. A sense of intimacy and bond that you had never experienced with any man or mortal before.

The last time a man had been inside you was when a vengeful wife wished for her unfaithful husband to suffer an atrocious death. The quick change from pleasure to fear was the last thing you remembered of that particular wish.

When you looked down at Namjoon, however, as he slid your dress back and off of you, to where you were bare and naked before his fully clothed form, he only looked at you with a mix of adoration and lust. Never before had someone made you, an all-powerful jinni who could crush the world in the palm of her hand, tremble in vulnerability. Your perfectly sculpted body didn't disappoint, however, as Namjoon's mouth quickly latched onto your perky nipples, eyes locked with yours as he worshipped every inch of skin he could reach.

Your hands wove into his locks, pressing him closer as though to urge him for more, and he didn't disappoint. His warm hands were as busy as his abusing mouth, one of them reaching forward, sliding over your thigh to pet at your folds, warming you up with a patient touch.

"Namjoon," you whimper, feeling the wetness on his fingers as they repeatedly slipped through your slippery folds.

"I know, baby, I know," Namjoon mumbles, face buried into the crook of your neck again. "I'll make you feel good- I'll get you there."

You gasped at the feeling of his thumb pressing firmly against your clit, and you quivered on top of him, leaning back to rest your elbows against the vanity, tilting your head back until it bumped against the mirror. Namjoon kept you firmly balanced on his lap, hands alternating between rubbing at your clit and rubbing your folds.

You felt your clit ache and throb with need, the swollen little nub begging for more attention when his thumb slid back down to your folds to gather more lubrication. Feeling neglected, you looked at him with pitiful eyes, a pout on your lips. "Namjoon, please," you whimper. "Let me cum."

"Not yet, baby," he chuckles, amused with your desperation as he circles his thumb tauntingly around the clit, teasing it without so much as touching it. He quickly lifts you off of his lap to sit on the vanity, and you whine at the absence of his touch. You were about to protest again when he slipped a finger inside of you, searching until his finger curled, and you felt yourself jerk your hips against his hand. He smirked, his look one of mock-coyness as he curled his finger again, pressing it against your g-spot and having you moan aloud.

"You're so tight- clenching down on my fingers. How will my cock be able to properly fill you?"

"N-Namjoon," you say, screwing your eyes shut. "Right there, keep going."

"Your wish is my command," he chuckles, adding another finger, finding no resistance due to how slick your walls were at the moment. You loved the sensation of his fingers rubbing against your walls with each thrust, the movements precise and his grip firm, your toes curling as he stimulated you thoroughly.

You felt yourself tumble when his lips lowered down to gently suck at your clit, and you felt something close to sensory overload, your body shaking on his as you launched yourself forward to press your sticky body against his, gripping onto him as your orgasm took hold. You muttered and cursed lovely profanities into his ear as he helped you through it,  letting you convulse on top of him, your heat still buried against his face and your thighs tight around his head as he pets your folds once more, letting you ride out your orgasm.

You panted and heaved, breathless once it had subsided, and you stared down at Namjoon, who only smiled with the cocky grin you were all too familiar with.

"I told you I knew what I was doing," Namjoon laughed, hands reaching back to palm your ass, squeezing the flesh as he teased you.

"Funny," you say, letting out a dry laugh, reaching down to rub your hand against the bulge hidden beneath the fabric. "Seems as though you can barely contain yourself, Master."

"Why don't you take care of Master's little problem then, huh?" he questioned, quirking a brow.

You smirk at that, your lids drooping as you thought about how perfect he'd look once he was positively wrecked. You lifted yourself up from the vanity to settle once again in his lap. "I intend to."

Once you free his erection from its restraints, you waste no time, sinking down on him with little fanfare. The delicious burn of his thick girth has you hiss in delight, and you love seeing him tilt his head back, letting out a guttural moan. You realize this is the first time he's been inside a woman since the time you've known him- months upon months upon months. Knowing how wild his libido was- and is- you wonder how he's contained himself. This thought only makes you more eager to make it up for him.

"Fuck, you feel so tight for Master," he hisses below his breath, hands grabbing fistfuls of your ass. "So wet and tight, oh my gods."

You rock your hips against him, seeing his head tilted back to reveal the smooth expanse of the skin of his neck, Adam's apple bobbing up and down the column of his throat as he swallowed. You sucked gently, letting your tongue travel up and down the salty, golden skin. Lifting your hips up and down to slam against his own, his hands helping you with your movements as they were still firmly planted on your rear.

You toss your head back when you find a good angle, one that reaches and hits that special spot that had your toes curl every time. You were supposed to be making him feel good, but soon you were also getting lost in your throws of pleasure. You leaned back once more, gripping onto his knees as you let your hips continue their pace, nearing him closer to the edge.

You could feel him nearing his end when he lifted you again. You're in a lustful haze, mind lost as you only think about how empty you feel without him inside of you, but soon you're being bent over the vanity, facing the mirror with your naked breasts against the cold surface, and Namjoon's slipping back into you. He ruts into you from behind, his plowing hips giving him a good angle where he batters and abuses your cervix. He was so impossibly deep that you felt as though you were on cloud nine.

Namjoon only added to the rough pace of his hips, lifting your head to face the mirror, a thick bundle of your hair trapped in a tight fist. You breathed heavily, trying to stay still, your warm breath causing your reflection in the mirror to cloud and blur. You knew, despite this, that you looked like a complete mess, stark naked with the man fully clothed and fucking her from behind,  like some whore he paid for. From the pleasure he gave you, however, you had no doubt you would've been the one paying him.

"Look at how beautiful you look, taking my cock so well." You did as he commanded, his grip tighter on your scalp, making your eyes sting and your vision to clear once tears slipped down your face. Namjoon looked at you with a heated, lustful gaze, panting through parted lips as he reached for your heat again, thumb firmly rubbing against your slippery clit despite your quick pace. His chest heaved from how breathless he was, thrusting back into you with each guttural moan the two of you let out. "C'mon, give me one more- cum for me."

You screwed your eyes shut, tossing your head back as you let out a mantra of his name, the cry one of pleasure as you see the constellations explode behind your eyelids. "Oh gods, oh gods, N-Namj-joon."

It was far more intense in comparison to the first, where you realized his fingers weren't nearly enough in comparison to this. You preferred this, the delicious burn of him first slipping inside of you and the deep groans that bounced off the marble walls. The unapologetic sounds that he let out were beyond melodious in that sense.

It wasn't far after your spiral downwards that you felt him spill inside of you, the hot seed burying deep inside of your womb. Thick ropes filled you up, and you could only stare Namjoon in the eye in the mirror, both of you panting and breathless as he let out a few last, sloppy thrusts inside of you, his sweaty chest pressed firmly against your back like a dog knotting with his mate. You slapped your hand against the mirror to stabilize yourself, knowing you'd easily give out from the shakiness of your legs. Your core felt sore already, but you stared at Namjoon in the reflection, looking at how wrecked he was, minutes before the wedding.

Once the last few drops were squeezed out, your heat sufficiently milking him for all he was worth, you turned around, throwing yourself back on him. He staggered back into the chair to catch you, your fervor passionate despite how fucked out you have slammed your lips against his once more, hands running over his hair and clothes, fixing them with what small spells expelled from your fingertips.

When you pulled back, he looked like a groom that was styled by the gods themselves, as no stylist could possibly attain this level of perfection and beauty. He looked like a true groom.

It was that reminder alone that made you burst into tears.

Mortals moved on with their lives. Even all those you helped and cursed, they moved on with their lives, adding meaning and purpose, continuing and adding onto their legacies through works and children. They each had their lives and intertwined with one another in such a beautiful way, and you would never experience the same thing. You'd be confined to a damned lamp for the rest of eternity, allowed to stretch for minutes at a time before being subjected to the same fate over and over again, as everyone you knew moved on and died.

And Namjoon would, too. Eventually, he'd move on, and his life would be more than just a lamp.

Your last moment with him could quite possibly be you on his lap, naked and filled with evidence from your throws of lovemaking, sobbing for what you'd never be able to experience with him.

-

The guests were seating themselves, the wedding close to commencing. Your bridesmaid's dress was itchy as you waited for the bride to arrive, and you stared at Namjoon at the altar, feeling your heartache. The crowd was bustling, all chatting amongst themselves, oblivious to what truly surrounded this marriage. From excited guests to brooding suitors, everyone was anxious for when the Princess was to step up to the altar and finally marry her betrothed.

You were surprised when you saw the face of a blond man, his face cheerful as he looked to you. "Excuse me- you're a bridesmaid, right?"

You're puzzled. He wasn't from here- or this world, for that matter. There was something off about him, and though you sensed he was mortal and human, you also couldn't help but sense a strange sense of otherworldly power from him- something not of this time.

"Yes, may I help you?" you questioned, raising a quizzical brow to him.

He grinned, brushing past you to his seat. You knew exactly what he had done- his fingers slipping into one of the pockets of your dress. However, there was nothing inside for him to steal, and it only dawned on you what had happened when you felt a small bit of weight inside. It appeared to be a small metallic stick.

"Sir- wha-"

"A pen," the man curtly replied, smiling. "It's said to be mightier than the sword."

You looked at him blankly, positively flabberghasted. You're about to search for him again, but once your eyes scan the crowd, he appears to be... gone. As though he vanished. You search for his presence through one of your senses, but to no avail. It would've been so distinct, so different, and yet he simply disappeared.

You heard gasps from behind you, and the other bridesmaids turned to look at the Princess.

She was an absolute vision.

Her hair, a river of night, was done half up and half down. The part that was up was done in an elaborate updo, filled with braids and knots. Her long hair flowed down her back along with her veil, and two pieces of hair hung at the sides of her face as though to frame it. The golden dress glittered against her dark skin, illuminating as though to further emphasize how she was the living embodiment of the Sun itself. The beads and design contrasted nicely with the ruby red sash she wore, draped against her arm, rich and plain in color in comparison to the elaborate dress. A golden band was worn around her forehead, a fat, glittering jewel placed right above her brow. Her wrists were bound with golden bracelets that glinted in the light with her every movement, and it reminded you of the invisible shackles you wore to your lamp. The cherry on top was her bouquet, where instead of flowers she held the jeweled fruits from the garden where Namjoon had found you.

Every breath was stolen, once all of the bridesmaids made their way to the altar, and the Princess was revealed. Yasmin was easily more beautiful than any other royal depicted in books, her arm linked in her father's, who was beaming proudly at her side, glad that his sole daughter was to be wed.

All eyes trained on her, deaf to her words despite how melodious and mellifluous her voice was. Her radiance was one that was all-consuming, soaking up the room in warm, comforting golden rays. No one heard her for her vows, or when both parties had their hands bound together through a velvet scarf. She was stunning.

"Prince Namjoon, of the Pagean Isles, do you take this bride to be your lovely wedded wife? Who you will love and cherish, in sickness and in health, until your dying day?"

Namjoon's voice was so emotionless, you would've thought it was his death sentence. "I do."

Your heart shattered despite the fact you had learned to let go of any form of hope long ago.

"Now, Princess Yasmin, of our very own kingdom, do you take this groom to be your lovely wedded husband? Who you will love and cherish, in sickness and in health, until your dying day?"

The Princess's mouth opened to answer, but before she was even given the chance to confirm the marriage, an audience member stood, rising to full height.

Prince Zandar rose, eyes ablaze and angry, staring with a heated glare at the altar. "On behalf of I, Prince Zandar, as well as the rest of my allies, fellow rejected suitors and heirs to the throne, we hereby forbid this wedding from continuing!"

A scream erupted throughout the room the moment the Prince, as well as his allies, revealed gleaming, silver swords and daggers.

-

Beware she who is something of a goddess Who crumbles nations and kingdoms The world in her palm To destroy with her wisdom But she should beware the thief To steal not gold nor art But instead to take what's most precious A monster's heart

Time seemed to stand still as guests left and right were being slaughtered. Screams tore throguh the air, and the guards could only rush forward in so much time. Within five seconds flat, the petty princes had dug their knives and daggers into the abdomens of innocents. You counted two bodies fall to the floor at one second, there the next, and so on and so forth. A guard's body had fallen at the fifth second, and then one of the princes', but many more were tumbling around them, the bodies piling up. You had witnessed many wars, but this was the first one you had seen take place at the altar. Love truly was a battlefield, so it seemed.

Despite how many years you had lived and how many lives you had seen lost,  it was hard to process immediately. Life being whisked away from the cold shells that mortals called their bodies- all taken away within the snap of one's fingers- it was mesmerizing.

You didn't snap out of your trance until the Sultan's head rolled at your feet, his blood pooling around the decapitated body, the rich color splattering upon your shoes and the bottom of your skirt. The shocked expression remained on his face, given no time to properly react, though you have no doubt he would've been killed instantly anyway.

It's at that moment that you snap into action, pushing Namjoon away to fall to the ground behind you, your arm launched in front of the Princess when one of the princes reaches up with a dagger, aiming for her heart. It slashed through your arm, and it dissolved into smoke, curling in whisps around the weapon as his hand completely passed throguh you. Before he could so much as comprehend the illusion at hand, you headbutted him, grabbing the dagger in his hand and kicking him in the chest, sending him flying back.

You turn back to the Princess, handing her the dagger. She would need it. Though you had no doubt she had no experience in defending herself- seeing as this society still had the belief that women were to have no place on the battlefield, you knew she'd have to have some form of last resort. She wasn't physically strong, though lean and muscular as she was, she wouldn't stand a chance against men who had trained all their lives. You were fortunate for your years of experience, some of which was spent with Amazonian women. The Princess was strong in mind and will- but she wouldn't be able to stay alive on her own.

"Aim for the neck," you suggested quickly, knowing that it would take far too long for anyone to bleed to death should they simply be stabbed in a vital organ. Best chance would be to get the heart, but the ribs would make it a bit more of a challenge than preferable. No, the jugular would be her best chance.

Turning, you see Namjoon fending off an attacker, a man on top of him, hands firmly throttling him as he was pinned against the floor. Your heart raced as you rushed towards him, running as fast as your feet could take you, hands hooking into the back of the collar of the assailant's shirt. You launched him against the opposite end of the room, his body flung against the wall, head cracking and neck snapping, dead in an instant as he fell forward, the blood and dent left on the wall from the action that only lasted a millisecond.

You spun towards Namjoon, seeing another attacker rush forward to take advantage of his situation as he sputtered for breath to stand. You launched yourself towards him, arms wrapped tightly around him as you hugged him as hard as you could, his body pressed against your own. The sword buried into your back and through your stomach, and you solidified to keep it inside of you, hissing at the burning sensation of the metal dug deep into your muscles, tearing into you.

Ignoring the droplets of tears that formed at the base of your eyes, you reached back, letting out a scream of agony as you dug out the sword. It was bloody and dirtied, but instead of wasting time examining the artifact, you slashed it before you, advancing on Namjoon's attacker. The man jumped back, his weapon stolen. He dodged your blade as it tore through the air, but your blood boiled with molten lava that was trapped below sea level, eyes fueled with fire straight from the hells that the gods had forged.

With a blow that would be impossible for a mere human to achieve, you split him down the middle, his body torn clean in half, as though mimicking a cartoon. The two halves split in a gruesome depiction, the organs, bones, and flesh on display.

At this point you had about five more men after you, clearly targetting you as a threat and perhaps a supernatural one at that. As careful and meticulous as you may be, you had no time to fret over your illusion being shattered before enemies- after all, they'd be dead before they knew it.

You stuck close to the altar, the Princess doing her best to fend off attackers, and Namjoon doing his best to attack the men who approached him.

"Namjoon, keep Yasmin safe, for this kingdom rests on the shoulders of your bound marriage! Flee, and make a wish, for at this moment there are no risks we can take," you say, arm swinging back to clash your blade against another's.

"No, I'm not leaving you! Not in a thousand lifetimes." Namjoon shouted immediately, daring to take the dagger from the Princess, keeping her behind him as he slashed it through the air, quickly disarming a perpetrator with a quick flick of the wrist.

"Make that a thousand and one," you grumbled below your breath.

You narrowed your eyes at him for his predictable human ways. Heroes were the biggest fools, time and time again proven. He may have experience in fighting from his time on the streets, but those involved battered fists and dashing about corners. Never had he spent a day on the battlefield, with experienced soldiers doing one on one practice to ensure a skilled warrior. He'd be dead within the millisecond.

Instead of humoring his selfless behavior, you grabbed the knife from him, letting the blade fly throguh the air as it slipped throguh your fingers, burying hilt-deep into the skull of a man whose sword was raised above his head, charging headfast towards you three. His body skidded before you, a smear of blood on the floor, and you grabbed the other sword, swinging both as you crossed them before your chest, in defense.

"Make the wish, Namjoon!" you shout back, feet flying quick as your hands move in a frenzy. If he would let you, you could use your magic to even rewind time, or eliminate every scorned suitor with a mere snap.

"No!"

You turned to glare at him, ducking down when you sensed someone launching themselves towards you. Their body flew above your own as they accidentally leaped to their doom, their body flying through the window and to a sorrowful, quick death. "Why must you mortals be so stubborn?"

It wasn't until your eyes landed on him that you realized he was crouching down in pain, his stomach bleeding, blood seeping through the silk linens of his expensive fabric. Princess Yasmin holds pressure down on the wound, the gash deep and painful from the looks of it. His face was held in a grimace, and you knew that the endorphins that had previously held him in place were beginning to fade away, the battle raging for too long.

It dawned on you that it was from the moment that one of the soldiers stabbed you with a sword, the blade protruding completely throguh you as you pressed your body against Namjoon's in an effort to protect him. It was only now you realized that the blade of the sword had reached so far through you that it buried into Namjoon as well, giving him a stab wound as deep as a dagger's.

"Namjoon!" you gasped in surprise, your eyes wide and apologetic.

Your swords clattered through the ground with quick jabs throguh your hands, knives buried at the hilt quickly only to be removed, and soon enough a thick arm was wrapped tightly around your neck, and the tip of a bloody blade was pressing against your temple.

Your breath hitched as you tried to vaporize yourself through the oppressor, but found yourself solidified firmly, unable to use your magic. Your eyes were wide, and you clawed at the arm wrapped around your neck, gasping for breath as the strength drained from you. You could feel the pain of the multiple wounds you endured, the pain seeping into you from the wounds in your hands to the massive gash in your center.

"I knew there was something off about you," Prince Zandar rasps in your ear, his lips pulled back in a sneer. "Both of you."

You could feel the burning heat of the gem in his breast pocket. Ah, an ancient spell must've been placed on it. Fools who were scared of free jinnis- ghuls, typically- would place enchantments to ward them off. Perhaps the young prince got one for this occasion, knowing it would go along with the suspicions that he had towards Namjoon's possible jinni. The fact you were showing a brute strength and brutality towards his allies- that must've confirmed his suspicions towards you and Namjoon within the second.

"Don't you dare move- I've got a charm in my pocket that prevents her from using magic. And if that's the case, who knows? I could possibly kill her," Zandar chuckles darkly. "But one thing's for sure- this'll hurt."

He digs the tip of the blade harder into your temple, and you cry out in agony, biting down on the flesh of his arm in an attempt to free yourself despite the fact you felt so weak and powerless. He didn't let up, though, letting the silver against your skull do its torture.

"This man is an imposter- he's been using this jinni girl in order to win your hand, Princess," Prince Zandar sneered.

"You think I don't already know that, you bumbling idiot? I've known this entire time!" Princess Yasmin shot back, glowering at the man.

In response, Prince Zandar's knife instead points towards your throat, the point digging into your chin as he threatened to bury the blade into your skull.

"Stop, goddammit, you-"

"Ah ah ah," Zandar said, his mouth pursed in delight at Namjoon's fury as Princess Yasmin tries to hold him back. He removes the weapon from your head, letting you have a sigh of relief. He reaches out, palm open. "Give me the lamp, peasant."

Your eyes widened, and you look up to Namjoon with frightened eyes. He stands firm, his muscles tight and eyes scorching with pure hatred towards Zandar. You shake your head frantically. "You fool! Namjoon, for the love of the gods and myself included, don't do it!"

"Shut up, you!" Zandar spits, his arm twisting tighter around your neck, making you gasp for breath despite your lack of lungs. "Is that any way to treat your future Master?"

Princess Yasmin looks to Namjoon with pleading eyes. "Prince Namjoon, you cannot! Think of the world at stake!"

Namjoon pays no attention to her, however, his eyes locked with you, seeing your cheeks bloom with a purplish hue. Spots begin to show in your vision, a black tunnel as you feel yourself fade from the lack of oxygen. Before, perhaps centuries or even a year or so ago, you would've welcomed death with open arms, greeting him with the embrace of an old friend.

But you didn't want to die. Not this way. You couldn't leave him behind. Perhaps it was the realization of this fact that Namjoon saw in your eyes.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Namjoon says, reaching for the lamp that was beneath his clothes, tightly strapped to him. He undoes his bindings, stepping towards Zandar's open hand, the dull, golden lamp firm in his grasp.

You want to scream at the top of your lungs, for what idiot would do this? You're unable to do much more than sputter, a deep gurgle emitting from your mouth. The lamp is but mere centimeters from Zandar's fingertips, and you were clinging to the edge of a most certain fate.

You reached deep into your pocket and squeezed your eyes shut, using none of your other senses, for you couldn't reach to them for help. Instead, you relied on pure instinct.

The oxygen slammed back into you at once as you crumpled to the floor, left gaping up towards Prince Zandar as he staggered back, a pen buried deep into his jugular, blood bubbling up to the surface, draining from him as the life drained from his eyes.

The lamp still hung loosely in Namjoon's fingertips, but the shock caused him to drop it as it tumbled down, only to be caught in royal hands.

"I wish this battle was over, our side being proclaimed as the victors!" Princess Yasmin declared, her hands grasping tightly onto the lamp.

The last thing you could remember before your vision tunneled out was the familiar feeling of magic filling you to the brim before seeping out throguh your pores to consume you.

-

Your eyes fluttered open to the vision of a battered and bruised Namjoon, his cheek swollen, and patches of bruises along his jaw and on his cheek. A few gashes and cuts here and there, but most importantly of all, a beaming smile.

"Hey there, sleeping beauty," Namjoon grinned down at you, his battered knuckles brushing against the soft skin of your cheek. "Did you have a nice nap?"

"How long have I been entranced in this slumber?" You couldn't recall the last time you even slept. It must've been during your mortal days.

"A few days. You deserved the rest, however, as any hero does," Namjoon says.

You reach up, your thumb brushing delicately over his busted lip. You frown. "Are you alright? I'm sorry I couldn't have protected you better."

"You saved us all from a horrible fate. I'm fine as long as you are," Namjoon says quietly. "You healed fast, however. Guess it's a jinni thing, huh? Along with being astonishingly beautiful."

It was true, you felt completely fine now, no doubt all of your wounds and cuts being completely healed and fixed. "What have I missed? Where's Princess Yasmin?"

"Queen Yasmin, now, actually," Namjoon corrects.

"Am I required to address you as Sultan, then?"

Namjoon chuckles at that. "I'm afraid Namjoon will have to do for now, but I'm open to pet names if you are to have any suggestions. Due to the death of the Sultan during the battle, Her Majesty had to be coronated quickly, wedding or no wedding. Seeing as she had no further use for the betrothal, and the fact that I'm madly in love with a jinni, she called off the engagement, but allowed me to reside here for the time being and as long as I deem fit before I feel compelled to return to the Pagean Isles. She does, however, that we do not speak ill of their hospitality."

You felt happy for her- she got her wish to be Queen and didn't have to marry someone she yearned not for in order to get the crown. She got her Happily Ever After and looking at the smile on Namjoon's face, you would've guessed he had as well.

"I have something for you," Namjoon says, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the small, golden lamp. "Her Majesty gave me it back immediately, seeing as she had all she could ever wish for, as do I. But you don't- therefore you shall be granted a wish."

"I believe that even if you bestow upon me my own lamp, I will still be unable to grant a wish upon thyself," you say. "Besides, if you are to keep the lamp off your person, without so much as a finger on it, I will be unable to properly manifest."

"As I am well aware, but that is not what I intend to do," Namjoon says, sighing happily as he stared at you adoringly. "I love you truly, Y/N. Forever and always, jinni or not. I am prepared to make my final wish."

"And what may that be, 'O Master? Your wish is my command."

"Slave of the Lamp, Jinni of Smoke, Silver of Tongue, my beloved Y/N," Namjoon said, grasping the lamp tightly, as though to force all of his own willpower into the wish. "I wish you to be free."

-

Rocking against the waves A fate most certainly unknown

A final wish To be bestowed

Course through blood Course through veins The feeling of life Finally obtained

Queen Yasmin was as regal as ever, the crown weighing heavily on her head. Robes of silk, and an entire kingdom to serve her as she'd serve it, a sole ruler who was already putting into process various systems that would benefit her people. The moment the two of you stepped into the throne room, however, she was overcome with joy, waving away the official at her side to graceful glide from her throne and into your arms. Her embrace was tight, lacking her usual form of reserve, but you didn't mistake the glistening tears in her eyes, glad to see you well and alive.

You remember vividly the surprise on Queen Yasmin's face when she first saw you in your true human form. Your face was still beautiful and your figure still stunning, but you were human. You were breathtaking in every sense, but instead of flawless skin and golden eyes, you were human. You no longer lived vicariously through other's wishes, instead having the very same life fill every inch of your soul.

Two sets of lungs, one beating heart, gallons of blood, and the feeling of life. Nothing was more beautiful.

Yasmin held you in her arms, admiring your form, a tear or two sliding down her cheek. She let go of you as your hand clasped around Namjoon's, and you looked upon her with an equal amount of admiration, knowing she'd make the best queen of them all, duping all of the ancestors before her.

"I will bestow upon you any wish you desire, old friends. Your wish is my command," Queen Yasmin winks, her inside joke earning a chuckle from the two of you.

"We wish to see the world," you say. "A wish of my own, personally. Grant us a ship to see the world as we see fit, as I desire to stretch my limbs and see the progress of the people I can finally call my own. In return, I'll pray to the gods to have the stars stare down as favorably upon you as I would."

"I need no rewards nor bargaining- I shall grant you the biggest ship and the best crew, and you shalt be designated as captain," Queen Yasmin smiles. "Soar to your heart's content, and know you'll have a home behind these walls. I have a feeling, however, that the next time I'll even hear from you will be in nations I've never heard of."

"We'll name an island or two after you, out of thankfulness," Namjoon promised. "It'll be the capital of the New Pagean Isles?"

"I have a feeling it'll be better than the original," Queen Yasmin laughed, her voice charming the room.

You couldn't help but grin from ear to ear at that, delighted in the sting of your cheeks from how much you've smiled since you became human again. You closed your eyes, envisioning being atop a ship, the sea air filling your lungs, and harsh, cold winds whipping your hair behind you as though it were also a flag or sail. The waves would rock and roll beneath your feet, but best of all you'd have strong arms around you the entire time, Namjoon's gaze as fascinated as your own as you travel around the world together.

As though sensing your daydreaming, Namjoon dips his head down, his arms tight around your middle as he kisses you tenderly.

"I can't wait to begin our adventure together," he whispers in your ear.

"That adventure, my love, is what I call life."