Oranges; Sinbad x Reader

The Nineth Voyage

"Okay dear, this might hurt a little, but once it's over, I'll give you the biggest cookie I can find!" I exclaimed happily, pulling out a homemade antiseptic from a drawer. The little girl, who sat nervously on the stool gasped lightly and gazed at me with sparkling eyes.

"R-Really?!" She gasped, as I pulled out a soft cloth and poured some antiseptic on the fabric. I nodded at her in affirmation. The girl clung herself to the seat, waiting for the pain. Applying the disinfectant, she hissed a little, before enduring the rest of the pain. I wrapped up her arm, before reaching into a jar to pull out a delicious sugar cookie.

"All done. Now, go see your mother. I am sure she will be relieved to know that nothing is broken." As she disappeared out of the Church, my smile remained as I put my supplies away. As I placed the disinfectant back in the drawer, my (E/C) glanced at my flute. I had made sure to play it every day in memory of how much my father and mother loved hearing it. Just a year ago, I learned something new about this metal vessel. I was reminded of the Song of Time that Vreme taught me seven years before. Making sure I wasn't being watched, I played the Song of Time, before my flute became elongated and much more intricate. My flute was made of bronze and was nothing special to look at; However, when I played that song, it was turned to gold. It became thirty-five inches long and was engraved with fine designs. Along with said designs, swirls from gold to sand formed fancifully around the head-joint and spiraled outward from the body. The flute was still fully functional, but I never bothered to play the instrument in its whimsical state. Eventually, it turned back to normal, and my energy was somewhat drained.

As I wrote down some important notes and thoughts, the great doors of the Church burst open to showcase my sister. Kara was twenty-eight but continued to appear as an eighteen-year-old. Unlike my modest attire, my sister was in a large dress, with various frills and ribbons. I always wondered how she never became overheated. As she ran across the aisle carpet, she eventually yet inevitably stumbled on the fold. "Why won't you ever fix that rug? I trip on it every time, yet you never straighten it out! I can't believe my own flesh and blood would do such a veil and cruel thing!!" My sister faked crying, as I smiled at her lovingly.

"Sorry, Mrs. Rena always sits there, and every time she does so, she adjusts the rug to know where her spot is. I have explained this to you before, haven't I?" I asked, trying not to offend her in any shape or form. A small smile formed on her features, liking my answer. "So, what do I owe this visit? I don't mind, but you only come to see me at work if you have a something important to share." My sister's face became a serious one in less than five seconds. Almost out of nowhere, she pulled out a stack of papers, with various letters attached. All these letters were to and from one person. The King of Sindria. "What's this for?"

"Those are the corresponding letters from the King of Sindria to myself. A couple years ago, we started writing to one another about making some form of agreement between Feanel and Sindria. We thought it would be best, since little island countries need to stick together." She elaborated vaguely, as an annoyed expression hung on my features.

"I refuse to get married just like that." I stated flatly, trying to get my point across. Kara shook her head before elaborating.

"Trust, I am the one person who doesn't want you married. These letters have nothing to do with marriage in the slightest. We thought that a trade agreement would be most beneficial for both Sindria and Feanel." My sister explained, as my smile slowly turned into a slight frown.

"Kara, Sindria is the trading hub of the entire world. What do they have that we don't? And, most importantly, what do we have that Sindria doesn't? It wouldn't make any sense. I am all for setting up an alliance with King Sinbad of Sindria, however, we have nothing to give, and we don't need anything they want us to have." My sister's expression grew incredibly sour, as her eyes darted around the room. I knew she was thinking of an excuse or a comeback.