A/N: ASDJASHAJSA HFJKSAH I HAVE BEEN DYING TO WRITE THIS FOR AGES :O ..
I wasn't actually going to start this until I had finished The Revenge is Hers, but I can handle two stories at once and I've already got two chapters written X] But don't expect too many updates for a while, exams are taking over my life :/
A note on time: set after the first movie, because I really didn't like the other two. So basically Return of Jafar and King of Thieves never happens, but Aladdin and Jasmine are married. Just so we're clear.
A lot of Aladdin/Jasmine moments in here too. Sorry. I just love them so freaking much 3
I don't own Aladdin, but Aisha is mine :)
Aisha's lungs burned with the fire that could only be summoned by long, hard running. Her little legs pumped as hard as they could and her bare feet slipped in the dirt. Her shawl fell over her face and she brushed it away impatiently, sweat coming away on the palm of her hand. She clutched the little red apple in her hand as though it were the only thing she had left to her- which it was.
She skidded around a corner, kicking up a cloud of dust as she slid in the dirt. She heard the guards yelling behind her, felt their coming footsteps vibrate in the ground beneath her little feet. She ran forward blindly, panting desperately for air, head down-
Wall.
With a shriek Aisha fell back on her backside, head throbbing. She turned in the dirt and shuffled madly against the wall that had so rudely interrupted her progress, brown eyes wide as the shadows of the big burly guards rose over her. She held her apple close to her heart, the glint of the sword in the sunlight reflecting in her eyes as one of the guards raised it high over his head.
"Such nice little hands," he purred venomously. "Rest assured they'll have a nice spot on my shelf, street rat."
Aisha squeezed her eyes shut and raised her arm over her head, curling up into a ball and waiting to feel the swish of cold silver slicing through her wrists, waited to feel the flesh part and the bone splinter, to feel her dirty little hands roll away in the dirty little street-
"Stop! Hey- get out of the way- stop, you idiot!"
The sounds of general surprise and discomfort reached Aisha's ears and as the seconds passed, she came to realize she still had both hands. She peered out cautiously over the brown sleeve of her dirty long-sleeved dress, and saw that a new shadow had joined the group. Whoever it was held the wrist of the guard with the sword firmly. The sun shone harshly from behind him and Aisha couldn't see her saviour's face, but judging from the quality of the fine horse he sat upon and the vague silhouette of the clothes she could make out, he must have been very rich.
Aisha's eyebrows furrowed. What on earth was a rich man doing saving a street rat?
"Leave her alone," The rich man snapped, throwing the guard's arm down in apparent disgust. "She's just a little girl, I'm sure she didn't mean any harm."
The guard sneered. "A street rat, Your Highness," he sneered, dipping low in a mock bow. Aisha paused; royalty? Or perhaps it was just a joke. It didn't take an educated child to tell that there was disdain and sarcasm in the guard's voice as he spoke. "And a-"
"Thief, yes, I heard," the man replied, speaking with equal distaste. "It is obviously a fault of the kingdom if a child is reduced to stealing out of lack of money."
"She is an evil little rat and deserves to lose her hands, as all thieves must," the guard spat, raising his sword again.
"Oh, for Allah's sake, put it down," the man snapped, snatching the sword away. "She's just a child. She's just trying to survive. And if any harm should come to her mark my words I will have a word with the Sultan, who I happen to know is not quite so hard on the poor of Agrabah as you are."
Aisha wrinkled her nose. You wouldn't think the Sultan was so fond of street rats judging from the situation she was currently in. Then again, it was probably all for image. If this really was a member of the royal family, not just some decoy sent out to get a good reputation with the people. Everyone knew that rich people just sat and looked pretty in the lap of expensive luxury, appealing to the masses to keep their popularity up when they could be bothered to get off their fat, well-fed behinds.
The guard and the man had a stare-off for a few more moments before the man spoke again, not breaking eye contact.
"Get out."
The lead guard glared for a few moments before reaching up and snatching his sword back. There was much grumbling and sheathing of swords as the guards reluctantly moved away, muttering darkly amongst themselves. Aisha watched them go and felt her heart fly with relief; the sensation quickly drained away when the rich man slid down easily from his saddle. Ignoring the self-loathing that bubbled in her heart as she did so, Aisha flung herself upon the dirt at his feet. If she worshiped him, boosted his self-esteem and convinced him of her eternal gratitude a little, he would probably let her go back to her penniless life.
"O, my Lord!" she cried, spitting out dirt as she did so. "I cannot tell you how deeply indebted I am to your courageous interference, how eternally grateful I am for your courteous-"
She paused when she heard no bashful acceptance of the many false traits Aisha attributed him with and looked up to see someone who simply could not be member of the royal family standing before her, brushing off an expensive-looking poufy white turban and adjusting a little red fez on his messy black hair. He smiled down at her, white teeth glinting in the midst of his brown face. His eyes were warm and soft, though Aisha hardly imagined there was any true feeling behind those eyes. Rich people were so very deceitful.
"It's really silly how they make us wear these," he said conversationally, holding out the turban. "It's too hot here for them. I've got to, though, because they don't take me seriously otherwise."
There was a quiet chittering and in a blur of brown movement a very well-dressed monkey was perched on the shoulder of the man who could not belong to the royal family's shoulder, squeaking indignantly. The man laughed.
"They don't like Abu, either," he continued, stroking the little monkey's back absently as he did so.
Aisha sat up against the wall again, tossing the apple up and down in her hand. "Why did you save me?" she demanded cynically.
The man shrugged. "Because it's the right thing to do," he replied simply. "No little kid deserves to be chased or hurt like that."
Aisha's eyes narrowed. "What's in it for you?"
The man paused and considered her for a moment. "The comfort of knowing I'll sleep properly tonight knowing I spared your life?" he suggested. "Is it really so hard for you to say thank-you?"
"Why won't they take you seriously?" Aisha continued. "Who are you, exactly?"
The man scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Well, technically speaking I'm a prince," he explained. "The prince. Of Agrabah, you know. But before that I was just a street rat-"
Aisha snorted in disbelief. "Sorry, but I'm not completely stupid. No pity story you tell me is going to fool me."
"It's true!" he cried. "Abu and I were thieves but I managed to woo the princess and the Sultan changed the law so I would be able to marry her. That's why people don't like me much; they don't like the idea of a street rat ruling the city. I thought everyone in Agrabah knew that. It's caused a lot of a stir over the years…"
"People don't talk to me much," Aisha shrugged. "You know, because I'm a street rat. I'm bound to get someone into trouble they don't want. And I have fleas," she added.
The man's eyebrows furrowed. "Who said you have fleas? You don't look like you have fleas."
"Well, you know, I'm just a smelly street-rat, so I don't know anything. Everyone else is always right." Aisha nodded vigorously. If there was nothing else she had learnt from her years on the streets of Agrabah, it was that grown-ups were always right, and she was just a brainless street rat who should do what she was told.
The man made an unhappy noise. "Well, I could probably tell them a thing or two," he said. The monkey on his shoulder- Abu, was that what it was called?- made a violent gesture. Aisha had to giggle.
The prince smiled warmly and offered a hand. Aisha looked at it uncertainly, shying back against the wall. Her hand slid into her shawl and she hid her apple again. She wasn't going to give it to him- she had gone through a lot of trouble for that apple.
"Do you trust me?" he asked her. Abu rolled his eyes and snorted, squeaking something that sounded oddly like 'here we go again'.
Aisha looked at his hand for a few more moments, torn with indecision. He had saved her life, that was true… But if he was telling the truth, and he was rich, he might well just be luring her back to the palace dungeons. Or he might not be a prince at all. But as she looked into those deep brown eyes, she couldn't help but feel herself lulled into a deep sense of security. She felt safer with him than she did anywhere else. So after a few moments she nodded shyly and took his big hand with her small hand- the hand that he had saved. He beamed and swung her up onto the horse with ease. With a sigh, he then re-adjusted his turban and hauled himself up.
"Gotta prove you're important," he said in explanation. "Otherwise you never get through traffic. My name's Aladdin, by the way."
Aisha just nodded feebly and held on, wondering what was going to happen to her now. "Aisha," she croaked back meekly. "Nice to meet you."
xXx
The palace was very nice.
Shiny floors, nice cushions, fantastic views and food everywhere. As they stepped into the entrance hall after returning the horse to the stables, Aisha could scarcely believe her eyes. She kept away from the food out of politeness' sake but munched quietly on her apple, pretending that the sight of the other stacked piles of food didn't drive her absolutely crazy with longing. The food, at least, kept her mind off the space. She didn't like big spaces; too many areas for undercover guards to be without her realising. She preferred small places, usually ones where only one person could fit- her.
Prince Aladdin lead her through the squeaky clean corridors, Abu swinging from whatever he could and staring at Aisha as much as she stared at him. She had never seen monkeys this close before; they usually threw old food at her before she got close. Of course, people did that too. Did that make monkeys and people the same? It could be possible. Maybe they were distant relatives…
"Al!" A woman's voice pulled her out of her thoughts and back to the palace. The palace. Today was an extraordinary day… A street rat, in the palace! Of course, if Aladdin's story was true it wouldn't be the first time…
"Where have you been?" The woman behind the voice stepped out from behind a pillar. Aisha stopped and gawked, her apple slipping from her hand. She was gorgeous. Her brown almond-shaped eyes glinted warmly in the Agrabah sun. Her smooth, dark limbs moved gracefully and her long black hair swung behind her with every movement. She was dressed expensively in blue clothes that rippled in the air. A tiger loped along beside her, amber eyes absorbing every tiny movement.
Aisha shuffled uncomfortably. Aladdin had seemed carefully- perhaps even deceptively- humble and had brought her to believe she was safe, that she belonged. Now, as she faced the princess, she was painfully aware of her knotted, scraggly hair and her dirty skin and her filthy saggy shawl. She unconsciously sidled closer to Aladdin but he had stepped forward with new gusto, leaving Aisha alone in the open.
"Hello, princess," Aladdin winked, casually looping an arm around her bare waist. She chuckled quietly and pecked his cheek. "This is Aisha," he continued, gesturing grandly at Aisha as she stood like some sort of stupefied camel.
The princess' eyes settled on Aisha and she forced her trembling legs into a curtsy. "An honour," she mumbled to her dirty bare feet. "Your Highness," she added as a hasty afterthought.
As Aisha stood straight again the princess smiled beautifully, her teeth pearly white. "It's very nice to meet you, Aisha," she said kindly. "Please, just call me Jasmine. This is Rajah." She scratched the majestic tiger behind the ears; it shivered with unconcealed delight. "I suppose Al saved you from some sort of thief gang?"
"The guards," Aisha mumbled, staring intently at her feet. They looked so out of place on the sparkling palace floor. What would a princess as gorgeous as Jasmine want with a thieving street rat like her? She might as well leave the palace right now and save herself the trouble of being thrown out once she confessed to her crimes. "I stole an apple."
Aisha waited for the guards to swoop in and grab her and toss her carelessly out of the window, but instead, much to her surprise, Princess Jasmine laughed. Aisha's head snapped up in surprise.
"A crime if not for which Aladdin and I would never have met," she smiled. Aladdin flushed slightly and averted his eyes, as though embarrassed. Aisha lowered her eyes and the sense that she was an intruder intensified.
"Has she met Genie?" Jasmine asked suddenly, snapping Aladdin and Aisha out of their trances. "I'm sure he'd like her."
"Genie?" Aisha repeated, her voice high and strangled with fear. She had heard a lot about genies and how much they liked the taste of human flesh. Was this her punishment? Had Aladdin lured her here so she could be devoured by a mythical monster? "But genies don't exist."
Aladdin opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by an almighty cry and suddenly a massive staring eye appeared in the air beyond the balcony.
"That is so offensive!" the voice cried.
Aisha screamed and hid behind a pillar, pulling her shawl over her eyes and whispering as many prayers to Allah that sprang to her mind at that moment.
"Aisha?" she heard Aladdin's concerned voice from the other side of the pillar. Aisha's pumping heart constricted with hate- he was probably just making sure she wasn't already dead so the monster outside could eat her alive and feel her wriggle down his throat… "Aisha, are you alright?"
And despite everything… His concerned tone sounded genuine and Aisha was lulled into that heavy sense of security again. Being a six-year-old street rat, it was very easy to be lulled into a sense of security by anything that wasn't small and dirty.
"B-b-b-big b-blue m-m-m-monster," Aisha managed through trembling lips. Her voice was quiet; the words were intended only for Aladdin's ears. "Go-gonna e-eat m-me."
A little blue dog appeared beside her, big eyes looking up at her beseechingly. Aisha had never seen a blue dog before; she shied away uncertainly. It padded closer towards her, floppy ears drooping in a pathetically cute sort of way.
"I'm not a monster," the dog said, startling Aisha even more. It spoke with the same voice that had cried out before, but on a thankfully quieter scale. "And I won't eat you."
"But you're a genie," Aisha said stubbornly. "Genies eat people."
"Not me," the dog said proudly. As it spoke, it morphed into a blue man with a twirly black goatee and a broad chest. He had no legs: from the waist down, there was only a swirling spiral of blue smoke. Aisha blinked in surprise.
"So if you're not going to eat me," she said slowly. "What are you going to do to me?"
The genie beamed. "Once upon a time, I would have granted you three wishes-"
Aisha's face lit up. "Three wishes? You'd do that?"
The genie's grin widened. "Not anymore," he said gleefully. "I was freed from servitude a few years ago. I don't have any obligations to anyone anymore."
Aisha's eyebrows furrowed. "What idiot set you free? They'd have to be pretty silly to let something as amazing as a genie that would grant you three wishes free."
The genie flushed bashfully. "Too kind, darling, too kind," he said in an accent Aisha did not recognize.
Aladdin cleared his throat awkwardly from the other side of the pillar. Jasmine giggled. "Um, actually, that idiot would be me."
The blood drained from Aisha's face and she scampered out from behind the pillar, on her knees once again. She had only just opened her mouth to gush her apologies when she felt a hand on her arm.
"Don't worry about it," Aladdin said kindly. "Do you want a bath?"
Aisha stood and pretended to think about it. "Well… If it's not too much trouble," she said humbly.
Aladdin snorted and waved a hand. "Of course not. We'll get you some better clothes too, you must get freezing at night."
"Do you mind if I stay for dinner?" The words were out before Aisha could stop them. She blushed and curtseyed, staring at her feet to hide her red cheeks. "I mean, only if you want me to-"
"That'd be lovely," Jasmine and Aladdin said together. Aisha looked up and saw two warm smiles on both of their warm faces as they stood, arm-in-arm.
She couldn't help but smile back.
xXx
"So… you really didn't need for Genie to make you a prince after all," Aisha said around a mouthful, gesturing at Aladdin with a loaf of bread.
The prince blinked. "What?"
Aisha shrugged. "Well, Jasmine already loved you," she said simply. "So if you'd somehow gotten word to her that you were alive and met up again sometime it probably would have had the same outcome, with a few differences."
She saw Aladdin blush and look down at his food. Jasmine smiled and her hand rested on his. Aisha busied herself with eating again; moments like this were recurring, and as sweet as they were they also made her feel incredibly uncomfortable. Still, she couldn't quite resent them for it: they had, after all, taken her in, clothed her, bathed her and now they fed her. If Aisha had parents, this would certainly be something she would run home and tell them all about. Then again, if she had parents this probably wouldn't have happened at all.
"What would you wish for, Aisha?" Aladdin asked suddenly. Her head snapped up.
"That's easy," she said immediately. "Money."
"Just money?"
Aisha nodded. "Just money. You can do anything with money: get the next camel train out of here, buy as much food as you want, get a proper house, get some nice clothes…" Aisha paused. "Except a family. That would be a pretty good wish to make."
The room fell silent. Jasmine and Aladdin exchanged a look and Aisha prodded at the food on her plate some more. Hand-in-hand with Aladdin, Jasmine turned to Aisha and opened her mouth to speak-
"But I don't suppose you want to hear anything about that," Aisha said, not noticing the princess' apparent wish to speak. She set her knife and fork down politely and pushed her chair back. "I'm just a street rat, after all. Thank you so much for everything you've done. I won't trouble you anymore."
Aisha hopped down and began to leave. Jasmine stared after her. "Aisha-"
The six-year-old turned, eyes questioningly wide. "Yes?"
Jasmine faltered and Aladdin took over. "Would you like me to take you back to your home? We can go on Carpet."
In between getting new clothes fitted, having a bath and eating the best dinner she had had in a long time, Aisha had found the time to get herself acquainted with Genie, Rajah and Abu- as well as seeing a brief demonstration on the magic carpet Aladdin and Jasmine owned. She had secretly been dying to have a god ever since. She nodded eagerly and danced out of the dining hall. Standing in the doorway, she turned and saw Aladdin and Jasmine with her heads pressed together, hand-in-hand. Aladdin was saying something, and Jasmine nodded, looking sad. Aladdin kissed her forehead.
A big blue hand rested on her shoulder; she jumped and turned to see Genie smiling down at her kindly. She smiled shyly back.
"It's a special moment," he said quietly. "You get used to them after a while."
Aisha nodded and followed Genie out into the courtyard, where she waited. As she sat on the rim of the fountain, listening to the sound of the falling water and the snoring Abu, she marvelled at just how incredible today had turned out to be.
If she had known how much those few hours would change her life, she probably would have thought 'incredible' the most insufficient word possible.
xXx
Aisha woke the next morning in comfort, because her clothes were clean, she was clean, her stomach was full and there was a rather pleasant scent floating around her little hideout. She rolled over in her pile of mostly stolen sheets, a smile on her face. She lay there for a few more minutes before sitting up, slipping her shawl off her head and running a hand through her long, thick black hair with a yawn. She stood and peered around the limp drape that she hung in front of the hole that served as a door, blinking blearily in the early Agrabah sun. That scent hung in the air, intoxicatingly sweet…
Aisha looked down. There, at her feet in the dust, was a golden bowl filled with fruit. Fruit, she thought, fit for a prince.