The Sultan's attempts to appear domineering in the presence of the diplomat failed quickly. He realized the instant he met her that he had not properly prepared. A girl, he had thought, new to politics and practically a child could not take much effort to intimidate. How wrong he was. He fidgeted now under her unflinching gaze, tapping his fingers nervously as she awaited his answer.
His eyes shifted to his advisor. Jafar drummed his fingers against the head of his golden staff as if he were only half listening. He turned his head only as he sensed his ruler's pleading gaze. The man's helplessness knew no bounds. The girl was barely older than his daughter, and yet he would allow himself to be bullied into her submission. Disgusted, Jafar did his job.
"Your highness," he addressed, turning to the little blonde waif. She held her head high, her back straight as can be so that even the small thing she was, she seemed a tall and daunting presence. She tilted her head toward him. A dozen intricate braids held her platinum hair in place as she moved. "Surely the terms of your agreement must be up for negotiation." As he spoke, he tilted his staff to reveal its features to the stranger. Carved into the form of a golden serpent, the rubies inset in the sculpted eyes seemed faintly to shine. The diplomat watched the thing's eerie glow and let her serious visage give way to a momentary smirk. Her eyes flitted to her own advisor, a darker-skinned girl almost as young as the queen herself. The girl smiled back at her queen, who met Jafar's eyes with her own.
"All magic comes at a hefty price, sir," she said coyly. "I no longer deal in sorcery. Now if you've finished with your tricks, and I trust you've considered the forces which brought me here and the size of my army, I would like to make my terms perfectly clear," she looked back to the Sultan, her eyes fierce now, her expression serious. "You kneel, or you die."
The Sultan felt the color drain from his face. He had seen the army the young thing brought with her. More daunting than that, he had seen the things that brought her here - had stared for a full dozen minutes, mouth agape in shock and awe and terror all at once. "P-perhaps..." he whimpered out, cleared his throat and tried again, his voice a little stronger. "Perhaps there is another way?"
"You mean to fight me?" The girl asked. Her voice was calm, but hid within it a derision that promised she would relish his death if it came to that in their dealings. The Sultan coughed involuntarily, straightening himself up in his chair, denying to himself the fear he felt.
"No! Er, no," he stammered. "I have a daughter. Your age, thereabout. Young, beautiful..." He lifted his eyes, meeting her gaze timidly, "and without a suitor." This caught the girl off-guard. A feat, the Sultan suspected. He watched the young queen consider his intention, looking briefly to her counsel before locking eyes with him again. "We could join our kingdoms," he proposed.
"Do you know how many men have tried to win my hand in marriage?" she asked him. "Rich men, kings of larger kingdoms. Why would I take this offer from you?" The Sultan smirked.
"I'll introduce you to the princess."