#BUT WORSE AND WORSE FOR JAMIL— | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

therosefrontier · 1 year ago

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@badthingshappenbingo

Title: Silence My Screams, Only Whispers Will Remain

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Prompt: Strangling

Characters: Jamil (POV), Kalim, Najma

Placement: pre-canon, about five years ago—Jamil is twelve and just starting sixth grade

Word Count: 7275

(crossposted to AO3)

+++

“Yes, this is great! Jamil, Jamil! Dad said yes to us having the birds at the dance after the feast! I’m so excited for Saturday now! Aren’t you excited, Jamil?”

“Mm-hmm.” Jamil nodded, just watching as Kalim continued to bounce around his room in fresh excitement, going on to talk some more about the birds in question and everything he read about them from his book. He listened, but he was a little bit distracted. He kept running through all the chores he had to do in preparation for the feast in his mind, and he kept thinking about his science project, too. It was due on Monday, which was a week from now, but it felt far too close. He should’ve gotten more done on it sooner. Now, he didn’t feel like he had the time. Maybe he should save most of the work for Sunday, after the feast was over? But, then something unexpected might happen, at work or with school, and his plans would be changed. Maybe he would be given new homework on Friday. Maybe some emergency would happen. He couldn’t leave it up to chance. He should just do as much as he could tonight and tomorrow. He could do that. It wasn’t like it needed to be perfect—only passable. It shouldn’t be perfect, actually… he couldn’t risk being noticed and singled out again, so there needed to be some mistakes…

This was getting tiring to think about. Jamil was in sixth grade now, and he didn’t mind that at all really, but it did mean that he had more homework now than he did in elementary school, so there was more to do. He wished he could just do his work like everyone else—he didn’t like having to worry about success all the time while trying not to fail, either, although he guessed this did technically make things easier on him. Some of his classmates had parents pressuring them a lot to make good grades—perfect grades, even. Jamil didn’t have to be perfect—or more like, he didn’t have to perfect in that way. He still felt like he had to be perfect in a lot of other ways—maybe that was the reason why this revelation didn’t make him feel any less constricted. Sometimes, all he wanted was just a little space to breathe and not have to worry so much.

“What about you, Jamil? What would you want?” Kalim asked, and all of a sudden, Jamil realized with a panic that he wasn’t paying attention. What was he supposed to say!? But then, he remembered that no one else was in this room listening to them. It was only him and Kalim. So, he relaxed a little.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” Jamil asked.

“It’s fine! I was just wondering what kind of animal you’d want to meet in person, if you could see any kind you’d want. I could even ask Dad if he could get one for us! Well, I guess we can’t get anything at all…a shark or a whale would be hard because they’re in the water, but still! Is there anything?”

“Umm…I don’t know, there isn’t really anything…”

“Aww, don’t be shy, Jamil! What’s your favorite animal? I don’t think I know…oh no, did I forget!? I didn’t forget your favorite animal, did I!?”

“No, no, I don’t think so…” Jamil used to have one, maybe, but it kept changing all the time when he was little. But that didn’t matter—he just needed to say something believable that wouldn’t actually be a hassle. “I don’t know, a cobra?”

“Oh, really!? That’s so cool! Well, I guess you’re in luck then, because we’ll have a whole bunch of snake charmers at the feast! At least, I think so, since there were some last time…”

Jamil just nodded, breathing out with a tired smile as he listened to Kalim start rambling again. At least he was happy, and there would be no new animals added to the roster again. Jamil wondered if they could ever have a celebration that was simple for once, but he supposed a lot of important people were visiting, just as there always were, so that probably made flashiness important, maybe. Even a birthday party couldn’t be done without a whole bunch of strangers showing up and needing to be entertained. He wouldn’t worry about it too much, though. He would just do what he had to, and make sure that Kalim was fine.

+++

The feast was a massive celebration, as always. The smell of delectable food and the thrum of upbeat music filled their banquet halls, along with a whole crowd of mostly happy, chattering people. It was never just about the food—it was a night of entertainment, too, from the music and dancing to the displays of birds and elephants. Somewhere in the back of Jamil’s mind, he remembered the first time Kalim gleefully pulled him by the hand to the open floor with the musicians playing right behind them, and how for a moment, after he got used to it, it actually felt so fun and freeing, with him laughing right along with Kalim, even though Jamil was sure they were both awful at it. Now, Jamil doesn’t think he likes the idea of dancing in front of people all that much, even if there was any chance he’d be allowed to dance with the actual guests without it being expressly clear that he was doing it for Kalim and Kalim only, so his parents wouldn’t scold him for neglect. Besides, Jamil was too busy for anything like that—he had a lot of work to do serving guests, besides also watching Kalim, multitasking in his hospitality duties to keep an eye on Kalim from a distance like a hawk, making sure that he was doing fine and not getting into any trouble.

There were two things Jamil had to be careful about with Kalim, on days like this. The first thing was making sure that Kalim didn’t get any spontaneous and also bad ideas that would cause trouble, so he had to either stop Kalim from doing those ideas or clean things up for him if everything went wrong. The other thing—the much, much worse thing—that Jamil had to do was make sure that trouble didn’t happen to Kalim, instead.

Kalim had enemies. Jamil learned this very early on, after being assigned to the young heir. He wasn’t just Kalim’s servant, or his ‘playmate,’ or whatever else they called him—he had to be his bodyguard. Technically, they had plenty of guards—actual adult guards—for protecting the Asims, and they caught a lot of threats, too, but too many bad things had happened for Jamil to be assured that nothing bad would happen to Kalim even while he was in his own home. There was a reason why Jamil had to taste-test everything Kalim ate to check for poison, now. It was one of the things he had to do today, too, going back and forth between being with Kalim and serving the other guests mostly just to check his food. Because…this had happened before. Kalim’s been poisoned. Kalim has also been attacked and kidnapped. Jamil still remembers how terrifying it felt, the first time he was stolen away, but he got a little more used to this, over time. It was still always terrible, though, especially when Jamil knew it was never going to stop. Jamil learned, early on, that the Asims had enemies, and that it was even more complicated than that. He listened to the other servants whisper and gossip about how these were ‘dark times’ for the family, a ‘power struggle’ that was quickly tearing everything apart. No one ever told Jamil anything, but he did pick up on a few things on his own. He knew that some of the people going after Kalim were his own relatives. He knew that Kalim being the eldest child was a big reason why he, over everyone else, was targeted over and over again. It wasn’t fair, and Jamil hoped it would stop. The other servants talked among each other years ago like everything was about to blow up and go up in flames any moment now, but that didn’t happen. It was obvious that they were wrong. The family would be fine…even if Kalim still had to deal with this, and so did Jamil, by extension.

He was going to be prepared, though. Jamil was a mage, and also, he was a Viper, so it made sense that he got to be trained in self-defense ever since he was seven, so he could get to the point where he could take down an armed man twice his size with his bare hands if he had to. When his magic manifested, he put a lot of focus on learning that, too, even if there was a lot he had to work through on his own since no one else had the time to do so. His father taught him a lot himself, and he was kind of good at it, too, but sometimes…Jamil would rather learn on his own, instead of have someone else tell him what to do just like they did for everything else in his life. He would rather be alone as often as he possibly could. He just…still had a lot to learn and work through, that’s all.

But today, he didn’t need any of that. Kalim was fine, nothing bad happened, and he was as happy and smiling as ever, often taking opportunities to slip away and talk to Jamil, talking away about this and that and asking Jamil to take a break to dance or try out some new dish with him, as if Jamil wasn’t required to do the food-tasting part anyways. Kalim just wanted to make sure that he actually ate enough to fill him up, not just enough to taste, and he was happy to find things that Jamil liked. A few times, Kalim did lament a bit about how there weren’t many other ‘kids their age,’ the closest thing mostly being Kalim’s little siblings who were old enough to be here, but other than that, there wasn’t really anything to complain about. Jamil did remind Kalim that they really weren’t ‘kids’ anymore, though—Kalim was eleven, Jamil just turned twelve a couple of weeks ago, and they were middle schoolers. There was a difference. Of course, Kalim just laughed like Jamil was being funny and said that he should relax a little, but that wasn’t true because Jamil was relaxed. Mostly. He was as good as he could be, probably.

Jamil continued working for a while after the feast was finished, cleaning up the tables and putting things away until one of the adult servants told him that his work was done, and that he should go get some rest. Jamil was exhausted, too. It was a good thing he went ahead and got his science project finished, because he decided that he would really rather not deal with that tomorrow.

Jamil left the banquet halls, traveling alone down the narrower windowless hallways that led to all the supply rooms that the servants would use. Najma had already left for her room a while ago, and Jamil had no idea where his parents were right now, so he was on his own, but then, it was usually that way for most things, anyways, and also, his room wasn’t in the same place as everyone else’s. His room was right next to Kalim’s, used on days like these when he would sleep in the mansion instead of going all the way back to his own house.

“Lucky~” he heard Najma’s simultaneously sing-song and whiny voice tell him somewhere in the back of his head, pointing out how Jamil’s room was bigger and nicer than the one she would stay in, near their parents in the designated servants’ wing of the manor, and how Jamil got the room to himself, too, while she was ‘stuck’ with a couple of other girls. Jamil told her that it really wasn’t a good thing, because him being near Kalim just meant that he had to be there for him if anything happened or if he needed anything in the middle of the night, but she was insistent.

“Well, why not just get someone to help you? Your room is big enough for two people. Or even three people!”

“No, it isn’t.” It sort of was, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Yeah it is! It’s bigger than your room at home and we used to share it! Your bed at home is bigger than mine and can fit two people, too!”

“Huh!? Why is this about my bed now?”

“I just think you need to think about it.”

And thus, Najma proved once again that there was no arguing with her on anything. Ever. She would keep coming up with solutions that could never happen. It wasn’t the first time she suggested that Jamil should get help for his job with Kalim, either. However, that was clearly not going to happen, so why would she bother bringing it up? This was Jamil’s job, and their parents would never share the “honor” with anyone else, and Jamil didn’t think he liked the idea of trusting anyone else with Kalim, anyways. Having some kind of partner would be like being in a group project all the time, but worse.

At least Jamil’s room near Kalim was closer to the banquet hall that the servant wing was. Jamil was quickly realizing that he really didn’t want to walk that much farther, as he groggily stumbled through while absentmindedly feeling the old walls with his fingertips for support. He instinctively thought about whatever it was he had to do tomorrow, hoping that nothing unexpected came up. It would be nice if he could just relax a bit. With that thought in mind, he yawned deeply, and then, midway through the action, he stopped.

He heard something.

Jamil looked behind him, and he looked in front of him and to the side, too. He didn’t see anyone. Should anyone else be here? The mansion would definitely still be full of people right now, but he wasn’t sure if any of the other servants would be coming this way, and none of the Asims would be in this hallway, either. Right? But Jamil could have sworn he heard movement. He hoped it was one of the guards on patrol. He kept looking around, suddenly regretting how dimly lit the space was right now.

“Hello?” he said out loud, not sure if that was the right thing to do, but it felt like the best way to figure out if this presence he was feeling was someone who was supposed to be here. There was no answer. He looked over at the wall lined with supplies and unused furnishings, shrouded in dark shadows. He walked closer, and he felt his hand around the magestone in his pocket.

He cast a light spell in front of him, but that was a big mistake.

A figure became illuminated in the corner, tall and cloaked in black, and Jamil started to cry out. His second mistake. He should have attacked him right away. Maybe he should have run away, instead. Making noise, on the other hand, was the most useless thing he could have done in a place where he was alone, and it only mobilized the man into action.

He leapt out like a trapdoor spider, grabbing Jamil, gagging him with one hand, and twisting his arm behind his back with the other. Jamil’s heart furiously rushed blood to his addled brain. Desperately, he tried to wrestle free, but he quickly realized that it was useless—the man was as muscular as he was tall, and Jamil might as well have been a twig in comparison.

The man forcefully threw him against the wall and held him down with precision. With skill. (Jamil was alone. He couldn’t move. What was he supposed to do?) Jamil struggled to catch his breath as he heard the dreaded shing of the man drawing a concealed blade from his side, but that was also the moment when he found his wits again—or more specifically, his magic. Jamil gripped hold of the knife with his mind. The man’s grip may be firm, but he took advantage of his brief moment of surprise to pull the blade from his hand and fling it across the hallway.

A dark mask covered most of the assailant’s face, obscuring his mouth and nose, but his cold eyes were still clearly visible when they registered surprise, and for that brief moment, Jamil relished it. Briefly, he gripped the elusive fantasy that he could outmatch him, or at least outlast him. (Someone would hear them, right? Someone would be here soon?) Jamil was a mage, and everyone underestimated him because he never had a chance to show what he could really do, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t.

However, he should have known (all along, he did know, but he didn’t want to think about it) that this man, this assassin, would hardly be made useless just because he didn’t have a weapon.

The man didn’t say a thing to him. There were no taunts, no reasons given as to why Jamil had to be brought down like this—of course there wasn’t, because Jamil was nothing to him. Firm hands pushed him back against the wall again, but this time, they were placed around his neck. Two thumbs dug into the center of his throat, and the rest of those fingers clamped down into his nape. Jamil choked. He grabbed the man’s wrists with both his too-small, too-weak hands and struggled to force them away from him. Useless. Why did he ever think he could win? He writhed under the man’s grasp with everything he had left and desperately gasped for air. Desperately tried to scream. He couldn’t breathe. His grip was too tight. He couldn’t do anything. He was going to die. But why? Why try to kill him? Jamil didn’t even do anything. Why not? He was better off dead so he wouldn’t talk. This was the end. There was nothing he could do to stop him.

Jamil opened his mouth, staring into the cold, dead eyes of the masked man in front of him, the last face he may ever see. He willed his magic to help him, but it wasn’t like those simple spells could control someone’s hands the same way they could an inanimate object like a knife. He was doing nothing. Only delaying the inevitable. He struggled for air, but for some reason, he tried to speak, too. “St…st…” It was useless to try to make out words. It was useless to speak at all—this man would never listen. No one ever did. So why would the assassin be different? But Jamil refused to accept that. He refused to stop trying. No, he wasn’t going to be killed by someone he didn’t even know! After all this time!? After everything he went through!? No, he was going to make him listen! He would force him to listen if he had to! The assailant may be a spider, but Jamil was no bug. He would prove it. He just had to, somehow…

“St…STOP!”

Jamil blurted out that single word like it was the one and only lifeline he had, the only thing that would save him from drowning. There might have been truth to its power, too, since the moment he said it, a rush crashed over him like a wave. His eyes flashed red. His fingertips thrummed with fresh magic that also made its home in his head and his chest. His head hurt…and he felt dizzy. Jamil crumbled to the ground before he realized nothing was holding him up anymore. He heaved for air, so hard that his lungs hurt. The coughing only made it hurt worse. He gasped and trembled and touched his throat like that would protect it, blurry gaze staring straight ahead at nothing.

It took him a few seconds before he looked up at his assailant again.

The man stood there, unmoving, his hands limply hanging by his sides. He said nothing. His masked face showed no expression. His eyes stared forward at the wall, the steady, fierce coldness in them completely gone, along with everything else. They were empty. Just a blank stare, with previously dark eyes that now shone a bright red.

It was like time had stopped. Jamil sat there staring dumbly upwards at the man for a moment, his image blurred and red in his eyes, before he suddenly snapped out of it and scrambled to get up on his feet and be prepared to defend himself, ignoring the way that everything still hurt. Was he going to have to fight? Was this the part when he should run away? His heart continued to pound in his chest, telling him to do something, but he didn’t. Instead, he just kept doing what he had been doing. Jamil moved on pure instinct, or maybe it was pure impulse. His mind kept steady, but he didn’t think. He just knew. He knew that the assassin wouldn’t attack him, because he wouldn’t do anything that Jamil didn’t tell him to do.

“S-Step back.”

Jamil’s raspy voice wavered on the command, but it still worked. The tingling rush of magic thrummed just behind his eyes. The dead-eyed man obediently stepped back.

Jamil was controlling him. He was actually doing it. This was his magic. But when did he even learn this spell!? Jamil was glad he had it, but now, he wasn’t sure what to do next. The magestone glowed in his pocket. Jamil wasn’t sure he had the energy to keep doing this.

“Walk to that wall.”

Actually, he did know. He knew exactly what to do. Once the idea got into Jamil’s mind, it wouldn’t let go. He knew how to end this.

“Pick up your knife.”

Seeing the blade in his hands made Jamil tremble like a coward, but he wouldn’t show it. He would never show it. He took a slow, deep breath, and he stared straight into those dead eyes, making sure that his magic kept its hold.

“Stab yourself.”

+++

“There…does that feel better?”

Jamil nodded mutely, and he thinks that by her smile (that sad, sympathetic smile that somehow, Jamil didn’t really want to look at), Midha was satisfied with that. He drank another sip of the herbal tea she offered him, restraining himself from touching his neck where the salve had been rubbed in. He hadn’t been all that injured, really. The problem was mostly just the sore throat, and also the swollen bruising and raw fingernail marks on his neck, and the way his chest still hurt when he breathed, and the painful, blurry vision—he wasn’t sure if that part was because of the strangulation or because of his own magic, though. Part of him really wanted to look in a mirror just to see for himself how bad it was, but the other part of him really didn’t want to…not after already seeing himself through the way they all looked at him. Maybe later, he would.

Jamil stayed quiet and unobtrusive as he watched the workroom full of other house servants thrum with hushed, nervous energy, with everyone talking amongst themselves and gossiping over their speculations of who did it this time and why, while they waited for further news. The guards had found the assassin Jamil left in the hallway. Now, they were scouring the mansion looking for accomplices, increasing security around the members of the Asim family while putting everyone else in this quiet state of emergency. It was anxiety-inducing, having to wait, but Jamil was used to it. Most of them were used to it.

Some of the others told Jamil’s parents about what happened. They didn’t come to see him right away, and he didn’t really expect them to. He did hope that they were okay, and he hoped that Najma was okay, too. He also anxiously hoped that nothing happened to Kalim…Jamil wasn’t far from his room, when he got attacked. It wasn’t hard to make the leap and wonder if, maybe, Kalim was the one they wanted.

“He’s dead, just so you know.”

Jamil’s eyes shot open at the sound of Sayyida’s voice, instinctively putting himself at attention to meet the sharp gaze of the older woman who was also one of the chief managers of the household, and by extension, someone with charge over him, too.

“Yes…Sayyida-san?” Jamil’s voice still sounded horrible. He could barely speak at all. He trembled, too, just from fearing what she meant about what she just said, as if she was just about to tell him that it was Kalim who was dead, but he quickly realized this wasn’t the case.

“They found two accomplices outside,” she reported evenly, almost boredly, as if her only interest was to make the report and nothing more. “I imagine they would be much more open to talk, knowing their assassin is dead. It appears that there are no further threats inside the mansion. Once we are confirmed to be clear, you are to return to your room.”

Jamil nodded silently. He thought back to what happened…he didn’t know if he was dead or not, when he left. All he could think about was going to get help. Maybe it was something that happened afterwards, and he just wouldn’t ever know. But, as long as everyone was safe…

“You might just live up to your family name, Viper.”

Jamil looked up at her in surprise again. What was that? Was she…actually complimenting him? He wasn’t sure…

“You did well. I do not know how you did it, but that isn’t something you need to tell, you understand? Especially not to the Young Master. Jamil, I hope I don’t have to spell it out for you—you shouldn’t speak of this to Kalim. It will only distress him, and that will only lead to problems for the rest of us. Am I understood?”

Jamil nodded—just a single, silent nod, since his throat was in pain, and since that was the only thing he was expected to give, anyways, besides the single word he mustered up afterwards to go with it.

“Yes.”

+++

Jamil unlocked his unique magic that day.

It took until the middle of the next day to realize that, once the shock had worn away and he could think about this whole event rationally. He didn’t talk about the magic part with anyone, so he figured out everything he had to on his own. Right away, he sneakily borrowed books from the Asim’s extensive collection, and he later found books in the public library and school library, too. He searched articles on the internet. Little by little, he learned more about magic and about how signature spells worked. There wasn’t any one single way they happened—some people deliberately crafted spells over a long period of time, and for other people, the spells kind of just happened on their own. Those surprise signature spells could come during a rush of inspiration, or a moment of intense stress, manifesting in response to a need or a want, but usually, they were of some category of magic that the person was already good at, either naturally or learned. Jamil had focused a lot into control magic because of how useful it was, so he guessed it made sense that his UM would turn out like that, but also…it did seem like it was a pretty rare thing to end up with mind control magic, which seemed to be exactly what he had, unless Jamil was wrong and it was something else that made him do what he did. It was a little hard to say when he couldn’t test it really.

Maybe he could confide in Najma and ask her to help him, but she probably wouldn’t like the idea of being mind-controlled herself just so Jamil could practice and might come up with some weird scheme like convincing him to practice on one of her classmates instead or on some other random person she doesn’t like, just to see what would happen. She might even ask for some kind of favor in the future in exchange for her not telling. However, Jamil couldn’t really think of anyone else he knew that he could talk to…except for Kalim, maybe. He really, really shouldn’t, but, he could trust Kalim, and Kalim would trust him back enough to know that Jamil wouldn’t do anything bad to him while he was practicing. It would be bad, if anyone else found out, their parents especially, but Jamil knew he wouldn’t tell. Kalim would never betray him.

Maybe…Jamil should just handle things on his own. He tried his best and read through guides about how to develop personal magic until the words blurred together in his mind. There was way too much he didn’t understand, but he could handle it. He was good at reading, and he could have figured it all out much quicker if only he had more free time. He first focused on the simple things—he needed a name, and he needed an incantation, too. It made the spell more stable and gave him less blot build-up. That part was kind of supposed to instinctively just come to him, though, just like the spell itself did.

Jamil tried out his magic on some animals. It didn’t exactly work all that well, probably because they couldn’t understand his language and he couldn’t seem to make it work when speaking the animal’s language, but it did at least a little something. He was no snake charmer, but he could lead around the cats, dogs, and birds for a moment or two, at least.

With that in mind, the name came to him pretty easily.

He thought of the snake charmers at the banquet, impressing their audience with the way they could bend the snake’s will to their own with their skillful tune. It was like they joined by the eyes—man and beast became one under the grip of that powerful gaze.

“Snake Whisper,” Jamil found himself saying, the incantation linked with the intricate pattern and beats of the spell itself. “The one you behold is your master. When I ask you a question, you will answer. When I give you a command, you will assent.”

It was perfect. A little too good to be true, maybe, but it sure felt good to say it. It was kind of nice to be the “master” for once.

If only he would ever have a chance to actually use it.

+++

“Come on, Jamil! Let’s go visit the elephants together!”

“Kalim. We’re still in the middle of your tutoring session.”

“Oh, right…well, we can take a break, right? What about mancala? It’s a thinking game, so that’s kind of like studying, right?”

“No, Kalim, it really isn’t.”

Everything went back to normal, very quickly. Kalim knew about the assassin in the mansion, but he didn’t know about what happened to Jamil, who simply wore a scarf the next day to hide the bruises. He still did notice something, though. He got worried and said that Jamil’s eyes looked red. Jamil said it was nothing. He didn’t know if it was because of the strangling or because of his eye-linked unique magic, anyways.

He looked it up on the internet, after that. It wasn’t because of his magic.

Jamil felt a cold shudder when he finally looked at himself in the mirror that night. It was like it somehow made everything feel worse, or maybe that was just the pain inevitably sinking in further after the shock was over and he was left struggling to fall asleep. That night, it was almost impossible.

“Just a little longer, and then we’ll stop,” Jamil said to assuage Kalim’s restlessness. Jamil was good at math, so he got asked to start tutoring Kalim in it. Jamil didn’t really think he was good enough to be a tutor, but ‘he was already with Kalim all the time anyways,’ so they decided that he might as well.

Maybe it would feel like a better compliment, getting told that he was good at math, if he didn’t have to self-sabotage his grades all the time so that no one else would even know.

“Okay…” Kalim relented with a heavy sigh, broken quickly by a smile. “Thanks for helping me, though! This makes a lot more sense now.”

But I didn’t help you to be nice. I got told to do it. It’s not the same.

“Yeah, you’re welcome.”

Najma noticed that something was wrong, too. Jamil instinctively avoided her at first, but he was still undecided about whether he should tell her about his magic at all, so he didn’t want to talk about the rest of what happened, either. Not that his waiting did him any good.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” she asked him, peering into his eyes that Tuesday night with discerning intensity. Najma was two and one third years younger than Jamil, and sometimes, she ran her older brother ragged just as bad as Kalim would, coming with random and sometimes bad ideas on a whim like little sisters would, but also, Jamil was getting reminded a lot lately that she wasn’t as little as she used to be. She was about to turn ten, and it seemed like with that, it became just harder and harder to lie or deflect about anything at all.

“I’m fine,” Jamil mumbled, trying to hide his eyes and lamenting to himself on how impossible that was to do. “Just tired.”

“Nuh-uh. You got to stay home instead of going to the mansion after school so I know it’s something.”

“Well…can’t I just have a break sometimes? Why do I have to have a reason?”

“You got hurt, didn’t you?”

Jamil choked. He looked at Najma, and he saw that she was very serious.

“Why can’t you talk about it?”

Jamil looked away. “I’m not supposed to tell Kalim, for some reason,” he mumbled sourly.

“Oh, yeah.” Najma nodded sagely. “He would get pretty mad if you got hurt. Like that time with the poison.”

“Y-Yeah…that.” He guessed maybe Najma did understand, then.

“But I’m not going to tell Kalim, obviously,” Najma added.

Jamil let out a deep breath. “Okay, sure. I’ll tell you everything. But there’s one part you’re going to really have to keep secret, okay?”

Jamil’s father gave him rare praise, in the morning after the incident. Jamil didn’t know what his parents would do, but he wasn’t sure he was expecting it to be something like that. He probably should have, though.

“You were brave, to fight back like you did. You protected the Asims from a grave danger last night. You did well.”

‘Protected the Asims,’ he said. That was what it was always about, wasn’t it? Serve the Asims, respect the Asims, give everything to the Asims. What if that wasn’t what Jamil was trying to do at all? He didn’t do it for ‘the Asims!’ He did it for him! He was just trying to survive! He didn’t have time to think of anything else! (But he was worried, after that. He was worried about Kalim, but it wasn’t for the same reasons as what his parents thought.) Didn’t his life matter, too? Didn’t him surviving mean something?

Everyone kept telling him that being a Viper was supposed to be something important, too. They had served the Asims for generations, and because of that, they were supposed to have honor. Respect. They were trusted with their masters’ lives, and that wasn’t something just anyone could do. Jamil didn’t care about that, though. He was told that his family had influence and prestige. His parents would be the ones to entertain leaders from all over the world. They were supposed to be important, but all Jamil could think about was that old image burned in his head of his parents bowing down before the heads of the family, and he hated it. People told him that he would understand when he was older, when they weren’t too busy scolding him for daring to say the slightest thing out of place. Jamil was pretty sure that he never would. His life was a joke. He didn’t want to be ‘important’ just because he was connected to someone important. He wanted to leave.

They let him have a couple of days off to rest, after that first day of him pressing through and smiling for Kalim anyway. His parents assured him that he would be fine, but some of the other servants (the ones who actually cared) vouched for him. Sayyida-san said it would be fine.

Jamil still had school. He still had a science project to present with a scarf skillfully wrapped around his neck like he was about to go on a walk through the desert sands. He got to get some sleep afterwards, though, and get to his reading about magic. It was nice, to have some quiet for once.

+++

Two weeks later, while in his own home, Jamil dreamt of a fire.

He choked on the fumes, violently coughing without a sound, dizzily stumbling through the flaming wreckage. He needed to get out of the house. He kept walking, but he couldn’t remember which way he should go. He should know this place—the mansion, not just a house—but it kept changing on him, looping back around and around. He told himself that he should be hurrying a little more, but he couldn’t and he forgot the reason why.

He kept walking, and at some point, something reminded him that he should panic. He started running, but that made everything worse. The building was falling down around him. He couldn’t breathe. He was going to choke. He ran through the pain even though he felt nothing. He remembered the way to the front door, and finally, he made it.

The door was blocked. A tall figure stood in front of it that Jamil barely knew. His mind registered that it was an assassin. He didn’t know which one it was. So many things had happened��too many things. Kalim kept getting kidnapped. Jamil couldn’t let them hurt him. Not again.

He punched the man in the chest because something told him it was what he had to do. The fire was still going. He couldn’t breathe, and he couldn’t see, either. The man fought back and Jamil wrestled against him, squirmed to keep free. But he was running out of time. He couldn’t make it. The man was too strong. So Jamil knocked him to the ground. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t breathe. He pushed and he wrapped his fingers around the neck of the person on the ground, desperately trying to stop them. He had to get out. He had to get out now.

But it wasn’t right. Something felt wrong. He did something wrong. The weight beneath him went slack.

He opened his eyes. It was Kalim he was holding.

Jamil screamed.

His eyes shot open in a cold sweat, his body reflexively shooting upright in his bed. He frantically looked around his room as if he expected to find danger in the corners of the walls, but he found nothing. There was no one.

It was just a dream.

He knew that, but he still struggled to catch his breath, his chest heaving painfully. It was just a dream. He could handle it. He wasn’t a child. He just…had to calm down.

His door opened with a creak. Jamil jolted a little at the sound, before a small, familiar face with wide, worried dark eyes showed itself around the door’s edge.

“Oh…Najma. It’s you,” Jamil greeted blandly, his voice hoarse. Did he…scream out loud, actually? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to think about it.

She closed the door behind her and walked inside without waiting for an invitation. She came up to the foot of his bed and spoke in a loud whisper. “I heard you from my room and it sounded really bad. Did you have a nightmare?”

Jamil groaned. Why did she have to be so blunt about it? “Y-Yeah… I’m fine, though.”

She frowned at him, her eyes squinting into his. “Liar.”

“W-What? I said I’m fine! Just…leave me alone.”

“Are you going to go back to sleep? Sometimes I like to just wake up all the way when I have a nightmare. You could read a book or something.”

Did he want to go back to sleep? Jamil was still shaken up, and he was afraid the dream would come back…but, talking to Najma, he felt at least a little distracted over it, already. Maybe it would be fine. “I have a lot to do tomorrow, so…I think I should sleep.”

“Okay.” Najma nodded. She then stayed there, for a moment, like she was thinking about something. She didn’t make any move to leave the room. Instead, her eyes lit up like she just came up with a spontaneous idea, which usually meant it was a bad idea.

Wordlessly, she climbed into bed beside Jamil, forcing him to just as quickly move to the side.

“H-Hey! What are you doing?”

“Your bed’s big enough for both of us, so I’m staying.”

“But…why…?”

“When you have a nightmare, you’re supposed to go over to your parents’ room and stay in their bed, right? Well, you’re not going to do that, so I’m going to stay in your bed, instead.”

Jamil took a deep breath. What was he going to do with her? “That’s not how it works.”

Najma looked him straight in the eye and shrugged. “What are you going to do? Tell Mom and Dad?”

Jamil groaned and just flopped backwards onto his pillow again.

“If there isn’t room, I can just sleep on the floor,” Najma offered nonchalantly. “I don’t mind.”

“Yeah you would.” This was just a trick, wasn’t it?

“No I won’t.”

Jamil looked up at her and smirked. “There could be spiders down there.”

“Uh, I’m not afraid of spiders. You are.”

Jamil rolled his eyes. She was…technically correct, but still. “Well, just…don’t move too much.”

“Okay,” she agreed, before lying down. She didn’t stop talking, though. “You know, my friend at school told me all about dreamcatcher magic. I can try to use it too if you want. So the nightmares get caught.”

“There’s no such thing,” Jamil mumbled blearily.

“Yeah there is. It’s her special spell, and that can be anything.”

“You mean signature spell. And I still don’t think it’s possible.”

“Says you. How can you be sure if you’ve never met someone?”

Jamil sighed and decided not to argue. “Fine. If I meet someone with dream magic, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay.”

“Now can you please just go to sleep?”

She nodded with a smile, her presence warm even though she gave him space and stayed still, just like she promised. “Okay. Goodnight, Jamil.”

#bad things happen bingo #prompt fic #twisted wonderland #tw strangling #jamil viper #jamil has a significantly worse day than usual #someone get this boy a hug #I just him and Kalim to be happy aghhhhhhh *brings more pain*#anyways I also love Najma very much :)#sibling dynamics for the win

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