1.

They both looked different now.

Men are blessed with age in a way women avoid. About mid-thirties they obtain a look of dignified wisdom that is further complimented with gray hair and just enough facial detail to look distinguished. It's a benefit for the ruling class, especially for a street rat who spent most of his twenties trying to win the respect of a council that would not accept him by birth, breeding, and class.

Funny thing about advisors and councilors. They often don't last in their positions for much longer than the sultan who placed them does.

But at the moment, Aladdin would give paid a lot of money to have some of the more experienced advisors to speak to right now.

Mozenrath was not smiling. Not even his cold, smug smile of past encounters. He was frowning, his fingers drumming irritably on the contract they'd been going over for the past few hours. It was coming down to the final terms. Weeks of ambassadors, notes, rough drafts, arguing and every other miniscule asinine procedure of bureaucratic nightmare that could be conjured up.

And now they were finally in a room together.

Behind Aladdin was one of his own appointed advisors, a man with vast knowledge of the palace treaty archives. His purpose was to gently nudge their sultan if he were to offer too much or too little during these final negotiations.

Mozenrath had been courteously offered the same. He had declined. After all the Land of the Black Sand wasn't known for making peace accords. He wasn't even known for making declarations of war.

But…Aladdin mused as Mozenrath scanned the page again. Times, people, things all change.

"Everything seems to be cut and dry." Mozenrath said finally. "I allow trade passage through the eastern and southern routes to go unmolested by my Mamlucks."

"And Agrabah will no longer interfere with your magical pursuits." Aladdin nodded. "As long as, of course, your continue to leave the Seven Deserts at large alone." He pointed a finger firmly at the necromancer. "When you make a deal with Agrabah, it effects the rest of the kingdoms we count as our allies."

A smirk, as dark as when they were young. "Still such noble aims Aladdin. I'm surprised you even considered agreeing to this proposal."

Aladdin took a deep, calming breath. He would not let himself be antagonized now. Not while they were so close. Besides, he had one trump card left to him.

Mozenrath was the one to propose this in the first place.

The Sultan of Agrabah gave him an even look. "We are both getting something from this Mozenrath. Your title as Lord of the Black Sands will be fully recognized and along with that all the privileges, legalities and nobility. You will be acknowledged as a legitimate Sultan in your own right."

Mozenrath made a scoff under his breath. That was merely a formality. They both knew he had always considered himself a Sultan, or better for that matter. All this changed was his ability to keep his kingdom against attempted usurpers with the support of the Seven Deserts kingdoms.

Aladdin was receiving the same. A few of his enemies had passed on over the years, but enough of them had magical blood to potentially outlast him.

Or his heirs.

Having someone like Mozenrath, a powerful dark wizard with an army of undead, on his side. It was as practical as it was distasteful. And over the years Aladdin had realized that the kingdom had to come before all personal qualms and morality. This was the first time he had deemed it necessary to make a deal with an old adversary. The first time a threat had loomed on the horizon that he had felt his confidence in himself…lacking.

Things change. You're not some young street rat anymore. You're a man with a family. A wife, four beautiful children. A kingdom to protect and people whom you serve. And your getting older Aladdin! No man can last forever. He bristled at his own insult. He was thirty and eight years young! He wasn't some doddering old liege sitting asleep in his throne. He could go another forty or fifty years before…

Mozenrath coughed pointedly and arched an eyebrow at Aladdin. "And of course…the marriage."

The advisor nudged Aladdin gently, a move so slight no one else could have perceived it.

Mozenrath sneered at the gesture. "Is there a problem?"

Aladdin sighed. "Yes as a matter of fact. I resent arranged marriages and I have never had any intention of inflicting one on any my children. I'm surprised a child of yours would even consent to something being arranged outside their input."

"My children obey their father. Perhaps you and your sultana could use some lessons in discipline if your brats are so unruly."

Aladdin rose from the chair, his chest full of anger. "Just because I don't keep my son on a such a short leash that no one has ever seen him…"

Mozenrath had risen just as quickly. "Exactly! Who knows where he's been all his teen years. With that street rat blood in his veins he could be off among the opium houses and brothels where his father was born!"

The guards had cracked open the door at the raised voices. The new captain, a man Rasoul has specifically trained to replace him, already had his hand on the sword hilt.

Aladdin grit his teeth but had not risen to the bait. "And we are to simply assume your daughter is as…virtuous…as her father?"

Mozenrath was not a man anyone would have judged to be an affectionate parent. But his eyes went red at the accusation. "Insolent piece of trash! All this time on the throne has gone to your head! Your half wit son would be lucky to get someone half as good as my Sybil!"

"Who may or may not exist!" Aladdin retaliated. "Face it Mozenrath! Since the beginning of this your daughter has been all smoke and mirrors! I shouldn't be surprised. How could someone like you ever convince a woman to sire a child is beyond me!"

"So many things are." The voice went dead calm. His gauntlet flared in violent energy and the guards burst through the room as a blaze of energy shot for Aladdin's head. Blades raised and aimed for the wizard's heart until a female voice pierced the air.

"Father! What in the name of Ahriman…!"

The men in the room turned to look into the portal as a young woman, perhaps fifteen or sixteen struggled to pull her night robes over her gown. She was in her chambers, fresh from a bath as her short, dark curls clung to her face. Aladdin realized he'd been proven wrong. Her facial features were clearly indicative of Mozenrath's siring. Her large, expressive eyes, hawkish nose, and wide lips were clearly of his making. So was the scowl on her face as she glared at her father's lack of paternal conscience.

"There!" Mozenrath said with a satisfied voice as he child picked up a vase and began to launch it just as the portal closed. "Enough proof for you Aladdin or do you need to see the umbilical cord?"

Aladdin turned at the sorcerer. He had felt a sudden twinge for the girl in the portal. What kind of woman could she be, having been raised alone in that dark, morbid Citadel? Who was her mother? Was there any maternal attention there? "Have you explained any of this to her?" he said sympathetically. "Talked to her at all about this arrangement?"

"I've told her what she needs to know."

"For Allah's sake this is your own daughter Mozenrath!" Aladdin said, appalled by his nonchalance.

"And what have you told your son?" Mozenrath said skeptically. "That he's going to be wedded to a sorcerer's child? That his wife will be practiced in the most arcane and dark forms of necromancy?" Mozenrath laughed, a short, wicked sound hollow of mirth. "Tell me exactly how did that conversation go?"

Another nudge from the advisor. They had come up with multiple strategies before entering into this, all dependant upon how the meeting went. Aladdin nodded quickly and looked Mozenrath full in the face. "I propose an amendment to the marriage."

Another laugh. "You can't amend a marriage. Either our children wed or they don't. This treaty hinges on it."

"We'll agree to the rest of the treaty without delay, if you agree to these terms." Aladdin said quickly. Now was the time to be done with this. There was too much of the future at stake here. Mozenrath, as far as he like to spread his web, had to know something about the Dominion's movement's up north. Now was not the time for kingdoms built so close to be divided.

Aladdin largely suspected this to be the reason for Mozenrath's sudden willingness to make peace.

Arrogant, evil, manipulative and tyrannical…but not stupid.

Mozenrath took hold of his chair and sat down, managing to look bored and interested at the same time. "What is your amendment?"

Aladdin overlooked the lack of courtesy (he'd a been a fool to expect it anyhow) and took his seat. The guards withdrew, though looking particularly displeased about the lack of blood on their halberds. "I propose a year long engagement. During which time, your Sybil and my Farhis will be allowed to come to know one another. Without…" he said strongly. "…parental assistance from either side. If they can at least be friendly with one another within that span of time, than the marriage can go ahead as planned and you will be father-in-law to the crown prince of Agrabah."

"And you to the most powerful necromancer since…" and at this there was a strange mixture of pride and humility in his voice. "…since myself." He reclined in his chair, rubbing his lips together, a strange look in Mozenrath's eyes that entirely unnerved Aladdin. "A year is a long time Aladdin…for a man not to see his eldest son…"

"They will not be staying in the Citadel." His forcefulness put Mozenrath on edge.

"I won't leave my daughter in your delightful little palace." Mozenrath said with equal force. "She's a girl after my own heart and all this sunny disposition might make her ill."

"And your sunless lands are likely to bleach my son white as you are."

Mozenrath tilted his head inquisitively. "You're proposing a tour then?" Aladdin nodded, expecting another argument. To his surprise the wizard began to nod in though. "That's not altogether a bad idea. Give Sybil a chance to see the lands she will one day rule over…"

"Our contract…" Aladdin began and Mozenrath held up a flippant hand.

"Stipulates that I will not attempt to conquer the Seven Deserts by force Aladdin." Mozenrath's wolfish smile cut through the room. The white streaks in his hair only made his appearance more foreign and vindictive. "There are other ways to conquer a kingdom sultan."

"Such as by marriage." Now it was Aladdin's turn to smile. "To bad you couldn't have had a son first." It was a low blow. If Jasmine had been in the room he wouldn't have said it. But this was the law. A woman's place was second to her husband's no matter how powerful she might be in her own right. He had never treated Jasmine as such because she had never let herself be treated that way. Love and respect mingled between the two of them and a decade of sovereignty had only strengthened the bond.

But one look at Sybil made him feel certain that Mozenrath's daughter would require a stronger hand to manage. He clearly remembered Zabar, the king of Mesmeria. The king had fallen in love with the beautiful sorceress Deluca and made her his queen. Only to end up as a hawk for the better part of a thousand years while his wife destroyed their kingdom and (very nearly) Agrabah.

No! That won't happen here. He knew Farhis was as capable of dealing with this girl's magical outbursts as he had been at dealing with Mozenrath's.

"My daughter is second only to me Aladdin." Mozenrath sat forward a bit and materialized a quill from nothing. He touched ink to the parchment and the words rearranged themselves, forming to fit the conditions said. Before Aladdin could speak Mozenrath took the sharp edge and twisted it into his own finger, letting droplets of blood stain the parchment.

The red swirled and coiled into the signature of the Lord of the Citadel. With a sinister look, Mozenrath pointed the quill feathers first in Aladdin's direction. "You can of course you ink…" he mocked.

Aladdin made no betraying movements. He slashed into his finger and let the droplets bleed into the paper. Though he was no sorcerer, the word coiled into his official signature, albeit with much less flourish than Mozenrath's.

Tsk tsk. Mozenrath shook his head. "Thirteen years in the palace and you still have no penmanship."

Arrangements