Chapter Text
Kalim didn't know how or why or even when it started happening, but sometimes the world around him felt off to him in a way that he couldn't really explain, as if he wasn't really used to his surroundings. Or like he was expecting the things around him to be a bit different than how they really were.
Which was weird.
After all, he had been living in the Scalding Sands since the moment he was born; he should be used to it. And he was. The scorching temperature of the day never bothered him, nor did the coldness of the night air that slipped past the windows every so often. He could handle his spice just fine, and when allowed to wander through the palace or the market streets, he never got lost even when separated from his family.
However, there were times that he found it really, really easy to just… drift into the crowds around the marketplace and blend in with the people that were haggling over prices with the many vendors all around the markets, smoothly slipping past the caravans and cluttered stalls like grains of sand did through the gaps between one’s fingers. No matter the number of people that were in his way or between him and his destination, he could still find his way through the streets without much problem. Crossing through them without any difficulty.
When it happened the first time and his family found him afterwards, or well, he let himself be found after hearing the panicked calls of his name from across the packed sandy roads, his parents scolded him for scaring them and made him promise to never do that again. They told him to stick by their side while his attendant, a young girl far older than he was but much younger than either of his parents, apologized profusely for losing sight of him.
The girl had been following right behind him before the crowds of people had separated them along the way, but it hadn't been her fault that the jewelry at the corner of the market had caught Kalim's eyes. He had wanted to get it for his mom since her birthday was coming soon! The last time they went to a bazaar that was held near their home palace, he had helped his mother get the vendor to lower the price of his produce by half, so he thought he could probably get that pretty, shiny bracelet for her as a gift, and possibly cheaper too!
That was the first time he watched someone get punished for his own mistakes.
It wasn't anything too harsh or demanding. Just a few days of work in the kitchen, and her not being allowed to tend to him anymore for the rest of the week, especially if they were to go outside of the palace during that time.
Yet Kalim didn't know why the sight of her being punished in his stead filled him with so much guilt and shame.
It was as if he could see himself being on the other end, both the punisher and the punished, when he was neither of them, and this being the first he had ever seen this happen in front of him. He didn't much like it. And since then, whenever he found himself slipping into the crowds again, he made sure to always stay within sight of his family. Made sure to slow down his steps the slightest bit so that any of the attendants that were following him would be able to do so.
Other times though, the off feelings were more tamed, more centered around his preference than anything.
One day the sheets of his bed would feel too soft on his skin, but on a different day the texture would feel too coarse and harsh, despite the bedsheets being the same. Other days the sprawling streets and bustle of people outside the palace seemed like they were calling to him, and he had a sudden urge to go outside. To explore the world outside of his home. And yet, the following day, he would feel like holing himself up inside the walls of his home instead. As if there were some kind of responsibilities and duties that he had to do, had to finish, before he could finally enjoy his day and let himself relax.
It was confusing. It still was.
No matter how long he had been experiencing them and had pretty much grown up alongside those off feelings, their dichotomy and contrasts made his head spin more often than not.
But he tried to take them in stride, like everything he did in his life. Kept a smile on his face and did his best not to worry his family or hint that something was wrong—that something was wrong with him—and tried what he could to lessen the burdens of those who attended and took care of his family.
He brushed off the attempt made on his life by one of his relatives when the odd tang settled on his taste buds, poison, poison, poison, and he puked out all the meals he had eaten that day and had a fever for the rest of the week. Laughed off the attempt of kidnapping that another relative of his made—maybe for ransom, maybe for his son to be named heir of the family, he didn't know, and he didn't get the chance to ask either—as he got himself out of his captor's grip and sped through the alleyways back to his home, acting like he had never even left.
(His father likely knew something had happened because Kalim missed dinner on that particular day. Which he never did, especially not when all his favorite siblings and parents were all in the same room together having a shared meal, rare as it usually was. And his intuition was proven right when, not even a day later, his father confronted him about it the morning after. Kalim, seeing no reason to hide the incident, told him all he knew about it, including the bits he found out from his kidnapper's speech.)
(The very next day, the security around the palace went up and became even tighter than before.)
(Though he knew it wouldn't do much good to keep him safe, even with all the safety measures that his family could afford. After all, the attempts on his life weren't made entirely by people from outside the palace, many of them coming from within the family itself. And there's only so much you could guard against when the storms were almost always close by your heels.)
All the while, he tried to hold back the whine that bubbled inside his throat and wanted to slip past his lips when the palace just felt wrong, wrong, wrong. The yellow paint shouldn't be on that wall, the flower vase should be there by the hallway of the main entrance, the location of his room shouldn't be in this section of the palace. This shouldn't even be his room. His room shouldn't be in this building.
But it was. It was always here. He had always lived here.
And not the streets.
Kalim had never once lived there. No matter how familiar they were to him—the crowds, the drapes, the noises, the alleys—he had never been outside of his home palace for long periods of time. Not in the way that would matter. Only for the occasional errand that his parents let him come with, here and there.
(He shouldn't be used to it. Shouldn't found it so incredibly easy and freeing being outside of the palace. But he was. He was. It had been easy the first time, and it continued to be as simple as breathing to navigate the maze-like alleyways and winding roads like he had always been there. And never left.)
(Like he had never lived somewhere else other than the streets.)
Things began to change when he met Jamil.
When the polite yet grumpy boy who was around the same age as him had been introduced as his new servant.
(For your safety, his father told him when he had asked him why, there had been too many incidents in only a year.)
(And maybe Kalim should have objected, should have refused. Because if the boy was here for Kalim's safety, then what about his own?)
(What about Jamil's safety?)
It was when he met the charcoal gray eyes of the boy across from him that the off-ness of everything in his life began to make sense. The unknown feelings were suddenly known to him. Not the reason why he even had them in the first place, but why he felt strange in a place that he should feel he belonged to.
Because it was then… Only then did he finally remember his past. No, pasts.
He remembered both of them.
Once, he had been a ruler who ruled over his people with kindness yet rigid traditions. Having a heavy crown that he could not quite set aside and a palace that overshadowed any sense of freedom with duty. Everything and anything for his people and his family.
A street rat, a thief, but still trusted by the royal family. An adventure with a lamp and a tumble down a deep cave isolated from the outside world. Three wishes to be granted with barely any restrictions and a desire too big that it never left his lips in the end.
The images of both lifetimes flashed through his head, settling into place inside his mind, piece by piece.
The stories they brought were the slightest bit different from the tales that he had grown up hearing about, from both his parents and the people living in the Scalding Sands. Of the princess and the pauper, who deceived the princess of the royal family and was thrown out of the kingdom. But had also shown her the truth and the world and let her make her own choice, even if it’s not what he hoped for. Only to be surprised when it was. Of the Sorcerers of the Sands and the wise Sultan that once governed their land, a sultan who prided himself on being a good judge of character, only to be struck down by his most trusted advisor, his royal vizier.
They were strange and didn’t fit with what he knew of the world, of their world. And yet, he had the oddest feeling that they were real. That those visions weren’t simply his imaginations or hallucinations. Not like those born from heat strokes under the burning glare of the sun, during long summer days with no rain. They were memories of them and their lives, memories that were now his.
His to live with, and his to remember.
When he caught the confused frown on the boy's face at his silence, Kalim tucked his revelations to the back of his mind and plastered a grin on his face, concealing all the confusion, the heartbreak, the bewilderment that swirled within him. He opened the door of his bedroom wider to welcome him inside his room before dragging both him and his little sister into playing with him, letting the sound of their parents' amused laughter settle on his back and reorienting him back into the present.
He could do this.
It was not much different from how things were before. Just that now he finally understood why he felt drawn towards the markets. Why the insides of the palace often felt wrong to him. As if the furniture and rooms and plants and colors were all altered into something different from what he was familiar with.
Now he knew, though.
Everything was fine.
No, that was a lie.
He wanted it to be the truth, really hoped that it would be one. Maybe not anytime soon, but maybe one day. One day. But it wasn't. It really wasn't. Everything was not fine. Not with what he now remembered from the memories.
When he looked at Jamil, all he could think of was how Kalim had trusted someone like him in both of his lifetimes. Had trusted someone else to protect him and covered his unprotected side. Only to be backstabbed in both, by the same person.
And Jamil…
…he reminded him too much of him.
The way disdain would flash in his expression during random times when Jamil probably thought he wasn't looking. The wrinkle in his brows when Kalim was being more cheery than usual in an attempt to lighten up the mood and break the tension that hung over them. The calculating gleam sparking in his eyes when he was deep in his thoughts.
Not to mention, his Unique Magic was…
He didn't know what happened the first few times it occurred. Only the vague memories of losing control of his body, of watching things happen through a one-way looking glass, and a desperate need to warn others of a potential danger. When he next blinked, he found himself in a place different than the one he had been in just a second ago, with no memories of how he got there at all.
He had seen what he did. That snake staff of his that had the power to control others by just a look into its gleaming ruby eyes. He snatched the thing from the man’s hands and snapped it into pieces, hopefully never to be used ever again.
Kalim found himself subconsciously wary of him, of being anywhere around him. He tried not to because Jamil was not him. Jamil was Jamil. No matter how similar the two acted and behaved, no matter how their images overlapped more often than not for his comfort, he was still his own person.
He was also supposed to be near him anyway since Jamil was his servant. One that his father appointed to him for his own protection.
Despite that, he couldn't help the flinch that came over him the first time Jamil did Snake Whisper right in front of him, even though the magic hadn't been directed his way at all. The memory of being under the effect of something similar too strong for him to stop his body reaction, nor the way his heart began to race inside his chest, chills going down his spine as cold as the water that his parents took him swimming in once.
Kalim knew from the way Jamil was suddenly frowning at him, a look of hurt flashing through his gaze that disappeared as quick as it had come, that he had caught his reaction to his show of magic.
He didn't mean to, really.
But ever since then, he never caught Jamil using his Unique Magic again. As if the boy was refraining from using it anywhere near his vicinity. Kalim knew he should feel bad about it—after all, someone's Unique Magic was something that was important to them, right?—but all he felt was relieved. He felt bad for feeling that, but he couldn't really help it. Not with the memories of losing control of his own body and doing things that he didn't want to, forced to do things that he didn't wish to ever do.
It made him wonder though, if this time, like in that other lifetime of his, he would lose his new friend like he did his long-time friend.
Kalim really didn't want that. Even though Jamil reminded him too much of his once vizier, he was nice when he wasn't being grumpy, like him, helped him out when he needed some assistance, like him, and he played with him when he had nothing to do inside the palace, willingly going along with his whims at times although obviously exasperated by them, just like him.
At the end, he used his third and final wish to free a lonely genie stuck inside a lamp. He had promised him he would, and he wished him to be free, to gain the freedom that he longed so much for. The freedom that had always eluded him in his isolation due to his curse.
No matter what he did though, it felt like nothing he did was working to mend the tension between them. That everything seemed like it was going as it had in his past memories, and he was just a witness to the ongoing catastrophe that would still happen the same way it had before.
Kalim tried to involve Jamil more, treating him as a friend, an equal, rather than the servant that his father ordered him to be, not an advisor, he's not his vizier, he was not him, he was not. When he tried his hand at cooking their meals after the latest poisoning incident they had, Kalim made sure to praise him and thank him for the meals—he had never seen him that vulnerable, he could've died, he could've died from tasting his food, it was his fault, his fault, his fault.
And yet, the resentment that Jamil tried to hide behind his gaze never seemed to cease from existence. If anything, he seemed to grow more and more frustrated over time.
Kalim… didn't know what to do. What he should even do about this.
Jamil hid it well. He knew if he were to question others about it, they wouldn't notice his frustration and disdain of his position at all. Of how much he hated having to defer to him and lower himself for his family. Of having to be his servant when he could be something more. Which Kalim was certain that he could be, because Jamil was nothing short of talented, more talented than he was if he would just let himself be.
(Jamil used to win every game they ever played together. Board games, outdoor games, even studies and lessons in magic. He used to be the best out of the two of them in all the things that they did… what happened to that?)
It rankled him, the way he just knew that their family—maybe his, maybe Jamil's, or perhaps a combination of both—might have something to do with the change of their dynamics. The dynamics that their families, their society, likely expected them to have. A young master and his servant.
The situation frustrated him, the way Jamil kept letting himself lose, when he could simply win. Even when he made mistakes in any of their games, Jamil just let himself step into the hole and made him win instead, as if he hadn't noticed the obvious quicksand that the move had been.
It was infuriating, and he didn't like it at all.
As the ruler of the kingdom, he had been blind to the despair of his people and the poverty that hung around them, surrounded as he was with extravagant things in his palace. He strove to do better by them.
The streets had always been his home for all his life. He stole food to survive and pickpocketed at times, but he could never turn a blind eye to those less fortunate. Those who longed for freedom out of their personal cage, like he himself did.
Sometimes, Jamil would have this soft look in his eyes and a fond twitch to his lips that brought him hope that perhaps this time things might be alright after all. He would scold him for being reckless and fuss over him until he's satisfied that he was really fine. Jamil would chuckle at his silly jokes and smile as they played board games together, winning their games more often than not.
(He couldn't stop the grin from climbing up his face when he finally lost more than one round in a row after so long of Jamil always calculating their scores and making sure Kalim won more than himself, always. His excitement over the change likely showed clearly on his face. But he could care less about it, even with the weird look that Jamil had thrown at him for it, because finally, finally.)
Kalim knew he should feel disheartened by his continued losses. Based on how their dynamics were supposed to be, he probably should be—some of his siblings threw tantrums when things didn't go in their favor, didn't they?—but honestly, why should he? They were finally playing, after all, instead of the mirage of a game they had been doing these past few weeks.
(And if they kept these moments between themselves and never uttered their scores to anyone else. If Jamil began to switch up the way he played depending on their surroundings and the people around them, then that's just for them to know. Kalim simply took note of it and followed suit, playing like he usually did. Because to him, nothing had changed. Nothing was amiss. It had simply returned to how it was before.)
Other times though, Jamil would have a familiar cold glint in his eyes that chilled him to the bones. A look that was incredibly similar to a certain vizier of his that made him wonder if he wasn't the only one with these fragmented memories floating inside his head.
If, like him, Jamil was also…
But there had never been that flicker of recognition in his eyes that Kalim was looking for. Nothing to indicate that he had any memories of other people of the past, like he had.
Kalim didn't really wish for him to. Especially if the memories he got were related to someone like his once vizier. And yet, despite his wariness, he found himself somewhat… disappointed. That he seemed to be the only one to have these strange memories of other lives and off feelings that hung over him ever since he could remember, for reasons that he didn't know of.
The only person to experience this type of anomaly.
That was okay, though. He had always lived with them, after all.
It wasn't like he wished to condemn others to the confusion that was navigating the present and the memories. It was difficult sometimes not to mix them up, particularly when interacting with those who reminded him of the people he never actually met in this life. People that he shouldn't feel familiar with the way he did, when they weren't even that well-acquainted with each other.
It was alright.
Even if he was the only one who remembered.
(But Kalim couldn’t help the want that fluttered inside his chest at the thought of someone else. Even a possible enemy of his. Because… because…)
(…it was much too lonely. Being like this on his own.)
(And he never did like being alone.)
One day, on a stormless night with clear skies, Jamil finally received his letter of invitation to attend the Night Raven College. A prestigious school of magics that only accept students with great potential, ones who were selectively and specially chosen by the Dark Mirror itself.
He was happy for him, he really was. At the same time though, he couldn't help but feel a bit sad about it all. It had been Kalim’s own decision not to apply for the same school as Jamil too, but still… They had practically grown up together, always by each other's side and never straying too far away from each other, and to be separated like this was kind of...
Kalim pursed his lips as he stared down at the letter within his grasp that had arrived just this morning, a couple of months after Jamil had left the palace. The glossy paper wrinkled slightly between his fingers as he read and re-read the content written on it, unsure on how to feel about the unexpected situation that he found himself in.
When he asked the principal the day that he arrived at the school, Principal Crowley had brushed the matter off as unimportant and told him not to think too much about it. And yet, the way the principal kept on trying to steer the topic away and changed the subject had been incredibly suspicious.
Not that it hadn't been suspicious from the very moment the letter had arrived in his hands. After all, he hadn't even sent any application to the school, so how could he be accepted there?
It didn't make any sense.
As he stood across the Dark Mirror and waited for its decision on his placement, his gaze snapped towards the side as the door swung open with an audible bang that rattled its hinges slightly. Kalim winced at the sight of his friend, feeling dread building in his gut at the narrowed gaze being directed at him from across the lobby, just as his dorm was announced.
Scarabia.
The same dorm as him. The dorm that Jamil was sorted into as well. Kalim was happy to get to spend time with his friend again, but Jamil wasn't… he didn't…
Jamil looked like he had been slapped. As if all his hopes and dreams had just evaporated right in front of his eyes. And Kalim couldn't handle it. Couldn't handle seeing that heartbroken look on his face.
He averted his eyes as he swallowed down the knot in his throat, hoping he hadn't just ruined everything between them with his presence at the school. He shouldn't have come. He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't truly invited, so why didn't he refuse it?
Why didn't he?
He cared about them and their well-being, cared about them as if they were his own children. Yet he was also blind to their sufferings, blind to their wishes to live better than what he had offered them.
Principal Crowley tried to convince him to accept the Housewarden position at the end of their first year, citing that he fit the requirements for it and since the role was going to be opened due to the current Scarabia Housewarden's impending graduation, wouldn't he like to give it a try? He was being such a generous principal, wasn't he?
Kalim just stared at him.
Then he rubbed the back of his neck as he chuckled nervously at the offer before politely refusing it with a smile, offering up Jamil's name instead as an alternative. The principal's eyes widened behind his mask at his answer, looking as if he had expected a different outcome from their meeting.
Maybe it would have been.
If he hadn't been haunted by the dichotomy of his memories from as far back as he could remember, it might have. If he hadn't known how it felt to be betrayed by those close to you, those you trust to always keep you safe, and had experienced the weight of the crown on his shoulders. The expectations that came alongside it.
Maybe it would have been different.
The promise of the throne was too much for him. The offer had been sweet and tempting at the beginning; eventually, though, he realized something. He was born a street rat, never really a prince. He could lead, but he wasn't truly made for such a position. And in that role, mistakes cost not only him but many others as well.
Looking back at those furious charcoal gray eyes from across the cafeteria table—why was he even mad? He didn't get it!—as Jamil confronted him on accepting the position, he wondered what it was that he did wrong. Again.
He thought Jamil would be happy with his decision. To be given the chance to step out of his shadow and forge his own path, like he seemed to want when he left the Scalding Sands to attend the school. He was trying to give him as much freedom as he could in spite of their complicated family situation, so why…?
The two of them ended up arguing over it the rest of the semester.
It was the first time they had such intense arguments with each other, neither of them wanting to take the offer for themselves even though the other told them to do so. Principal Crowley, clearly exasperated by their never-ending back-and-forth, simply told them to let him know once they finally decided on who would fill the role of Housewarden before brushing the matter off to them and left.
Then, summer finally came upon them, and they left to go back home.
The moment he stepped inside the palace of his home, Kalim cheerfully greeted his parents and any of his siblings that he encountered on his way, patiently indulging his younger siblings as they chatted his ears off about missing him while he was at the school. Jamil followed a step behind him as they passed through the hallways before splitting up to meet his own family.
When he caught sight of Najma running up to her older brother from the other end of the corridor, Kalim gave her a grin and a wave, receiving one from the girl herself as she greeted him back with a smile. At her side, Jamil simply shook his head at their antics, looking exasperated by them already.
When they finally retired to his room for the night a few days after their arrival back home to the palace, Jamil had an odd expression on his face—a weird mix of confusion and resolve that didn't really make sense to him—as he laid out his sleeping wear on the top of his bed and waited for Kalim to finish changing his attire for the night.
Before he went to turn the lights off and left him alone in his room though, Jamil glanced back at him, regarding him with a conflicted look on his face.
“Why did you tell Principal Crowley to choose me as the Scarabia Housewarden?“ Jamil asked, crossing his arms over his chest with a frown. “You're the Asim heir, everyone expects you to lead. You should've taken it.“
“You would make a better Housewarden than me,“ Kalim retorted, insisting with a shake of his head. How many more arguments of this would they have to go through before his friend would just take it from his hands? “I don't think I'll be a good Housewarden anyway.“
He might, he probably might. Kalim knew he could lead just fine. Even had the experience of being in a role of leadership for two lifetimes himself at this point.
In truth, he was just… tired of it.
Tired of having to lead, tired of being expected to care for every single one of his people and none for himself. Kalim was still expected to handle his family's inheritance as the heir, of course, but it wasn't entirely necessary for him to be the leader now while he was still at the school.
So he wouldn't. Not as long as he didn't have to. And it wasn’t like he particularly wanted the position anyway.
Jamil frowned, a hint of disapproval in his gaze. “So you just want to shrink on your responsibilities?“
“No, that's not-!“ Kalim objected, feeling the frustration that was bubbling up inside him and wanting to tear his hair out. He couldn't seem to communicate with his friend without things tilting the wrong way. Why couldn't he understand what he meant? What he was trying to do? “It’s just that Jamil's smarter, and everyone in our dorm already respects you and your work. You're much better suited for it!“
Jamil opened his mouth as if to argue back like they had been doing these past few days, ever since the principal dropped the news to them. But then, he suddenly paused, looking as if he was considering something.
When their eyes met again, Jamil's stare on him was a degree more intense than before. And Kalim found himself fidgeting with his fingers underneath his covers, feeling strangely overcome with nervousness.
(It was that calculating look again. That familiar gleam in his eyes. The kind that made goosebumps run up his spine when directed right at him.)
Could he really trust him not to betray him like his former royal vizier did? Could he really?
He shouldn't. He knew the smart thing would be to avoid him, the one who reminded him so much of his once advisor, but he had never been the kind of person who condemned others for things they had never done, things that they had not even done yet.
“Alright. If you won't take the Housewarden position, then I suppose I could,” Jamil eventually relented with a put-upon sigh before continuing, “But on one condition. Only if you agreed to be my vice.“
What?
The arguments against it were already there on his tongue. But before he could let any of them out, Jamil stopped him in his tracks.
“People trust you in ways they might not trust me. I'll need you to handle things that I can't.“
Jamil didn't look all that happy to have those words out of his mouth, but he didn't seem as opposed to the idea either despite the small grimace he had on his face. More conflicted than entirely displeased.
Kalim mulled the idea over in his head as he chewed on his lip. A supportive role, instead of the actual leader, huh? That… might not be too bad. He had never been in such a position though, so he wasn't entirely sure if he would do well in it or make everything worse instead. But still, this would provide him with a way to lessen some pressure off of his friend, if he actually agreed to take the position, so maybe...
“…Okay, I'll do it.“
And if he was agreeing to this, he might as well try to make sure Scarabia became a place where everyone would be able to feel comfortable and supported.
Not just for the students within it, but for the two of them too.
He would try to make it a place where they could finally be free. An oasis away from their family's expectations and complicated hierarchy, where they could just be them before being the Asim heir and his personal servant. Just Kalim and Jamil.
The corner of Jamil's mouth twitched as he shook his head. “Not too many parties, though.“
Kalim grinned. “No promises!“
But he would try not to burden him too much. Heads-up before any sudden parties were good enough, right?
It's for the dorm's morale, he swore!