Chapter Text
He almost didn't recognise the Chimera when it appeared, blades on the sides of the infamous ship tearing into the wood of the attackers' boat. 'It was foolish of me, perhaps,' Proteus mused as he knocked out the enemy that got a bit too close while he was distracted by the small but warm wave of relief that swept over him at the sight of unexpected backup, 'to still expect the sunset-colored sails'.
Back then, while hearing from Marina the truth of his old friend had hurt him, the feeling of triumph, of 'I knew he'll come' has been so much stronger. Still, the Ambassadors wouldn't budge. They've been sure that Sinbad was to blame, and his 'I won't go back' hasn't made their opinion of him any better. Of course, Proteus has tried to plead Sinbad's case. And it has worked, somewhat - taking into accord the good word of the Prince and the fact that the Book has indeed been returned, the Ambassadors has showed their mercy, turning a death sentence into exile.
It's been years since then, and Proteus missed his friend dearly. Marina, now his wife, bore him an heir, but her wanderlust took the better of her, so she travelled the world as Ambassador of Syracuse with Proteus' blessing - and his decision to name his son in honor of his oldest friend put a divide between them, which in turn led to her staying longer away from home than necessary. And Sinbad... Proteus heard only rumours of him these days. First, they've been of his pirate friend going on adventures that grew wilder and wilder every time. But, as years passed, so did the stories. Now... Now, instead of a ship with sunset on its' sails that left even those its' crew robbed in awe, the stories told of the ship that was mostly seen at night, its' sails pitch black even in the full moon's light and its' crew's ferocity terrifying even those they saved - for they indeed saved, often coming to aid of the ships flying the flag of Syracuse, and that warmed Proteus' heart. His friend still haven't forgotten his home. Haven't forgotten him.
The fighting ended, and Proteus looked over the deck of his ship, surveying the damage, and winced at the sight of the bodies of his attackers brutally taken down - the work of Sinbad's crew, no doubt, for his men were taught to kill swiftly. Especially on this voyage.
He frowned, not seeing Sinbad among his crew. Relief turned to anxiety - was his friend avoiding him? That wouldn't surprise him, to be honest, for while he has fought for his friend, he never really spoke to him, keeping a distance to give himself time to adjust to the fact that Sinbad has indeed changed. He's always thought that they had time in an abundance. Though not too much - surely, Sinbad would take exile as a challenge, surely, he'll sneak into the city soon, and then they'll talk properly and learn the differences that age brought to each other, and everything will be well again. Surely... But time passed, Proteus celebrated his marriage, then the birth of his son, while sunset on the sails turned into a moonless night. And yet, Sinbad never came.
'No matter,' Proteus discarded anxious thoughts, straightening his shoulders and directing his steps to the bald man that was Sinbad's first mate, 'we still can fix it. I can fix it.' He called out to Kale as he got closer, demanding to know where Sinbad is, hoping that the desperate plea in his eyes wasn't as obvious as it felt. He missed his friend so badly...
The giant of a man folded his arms over his chest and stood still, like a statue of ancient god, weighing him in heavy silence. After a few long moments he finally spoke. His voice was quiet, but to Proteus it sounded like the rumble of a stone, word after word fell upon him like stone after stone, burying him in an avalanche of grief and guilt, as Kale told him the story of a man who has spoken the truth and lost everything because of it - his home, his heart... His friend. He told him how the man, in his desperation and pain, has left on adventure after adventure with reckless abandon, each more outrageous and risky than the last. He told him of the adventure that had them scattering the ashes over the sea, the only home the man had left. The adventure that had them painting their sails black - for their mourning, not to hide in the night as many thought. How sailing in the night has begun because it hasn't felt right to sail in the sunlight without the one whose smile was like the younger sibling of the sun itself. Kale's smile was sharp and harsh as he told Proteus that of course they're vicious, they're pirates after all, and now there's no captain with a heart that yearned for adventure, not spoils.
The Chimera's black sails were getting farther and farther away, and yet Proteus stood there, unmoving, with Sinbad's last words resounding in his ears with Kale's voice, until a childish voice called for his father. Only then did Proteus fall to his knees, gathering the child in his arms and calling his son's - his friend's name time after time with only one voice there to answer.
He was too late.
"Watch over Proteus for me..? Too noble for his own good, that one..."
- And you were too honest for a pirate, Sinbad. And it destroyed you.
And Proteus wept.