Author's Note: Back again for round two! Ha! I have no idea what I'm going to do with this fic…so we'll start small. Let's pick up almost where we left off, hm?

Ex Luna, Ad Astris

By Shadovar

I will never be a steppingstone.

She remembered only parts of the ordeal, now. The pain faded long before the memory began to settle into the silt of her mind, blending with the sands of time that warped it. The pain of violation faded, scar tissue healed, and yet the rift betwixt herself and Aladdin was all the wider. She could not fathom what had happened that had turned her world into a glass cage, pressing her palms against the surface feebly while screaming…and yet none heard her pleas. She was suffering, suffering in silence and yet all she could do was go through the motions of her daily discourses with the detachment that would make the dead blush. She could feel the touch of hands against her skin and it crawled, she could not taste the food in her mouth, tasting only blood, pain, and ash. She could not smell the sweet oils of her bath—only brimstone and iron. Sometimes, she imagined she was dead, lying broken and bloodied on a cold stone floor. Sometimes she imagined she was a bird, wings outstretched and wind beneath them, carrying her as far from herself as possible. Always when she imagined these things, there was a voice to pull her back.

In the wake of the chaos that had swept the nations of the Seven Deserts, even the foes seemed quieted. Mozenrath had come dangerously close to the heart of Agrabah, had already sewn the seeds of victory within the hearts of other kingdoms, and he had nearly succeeded. The feat was recognized, of that there would be no doubt…but how long would this tension-wrought tranquility last? How long before Mozenrath's feat ceased to stun others into humble silence? How long before the beast of ambition reared its ugly head again and Aladdin was forced to take up the post as Agrabah's savior once more?

Jasmine could not fathom anything worse than what she endured…and her father had granted a six month grace of clemency to the individuals responsible. The thought of them being allowed freedom to prove their claim made her blood turn to liquid fire; it was not right, to allow them to be freed on account of Mozenrath's claim to godhood. Not after he and Nadja had attempted to slander her name and credibility. They were heartless monsters, but they had saved her life.

She could not gainsay that.

Jasmine had not heard word from the West, of whether or not Nadja and Mozenrath had succeeded in their quest which after settling back into her discourses in Agrabah seemed more foolhardy than naught. Aladdin did not judge her for what had befallen her in Amoria, but there was no doubt that things had changed. It was now common knowledge that the princess was no longer pure, which under different circumstances would render her unfit for marriage. Now, it was vicious gossip amongst courtiers. She could feel their eyes on her back, could imagine with startling clarity the nature of their conversations amongst each other.

I would assume after dealing with that clueless street rat she was starved for any kind of passion.

Yes, yes. I'm sure after Aladdin failed to display any sort of daring in private she grew weary of it all.

I'm surprised she hadn't taken a lover before someone plucked that pretty flower.

Jasmine heard these things in the confines of her mind and was disgusted to even look upon herself in the mirror. Never, since she and Aladdin had been together, did she ever think of how they could interact in the bedchamber. The thought had never crossed her mind, had never even entered her dreams. She had never felt the longing of passion. Left breathless in the wake of her first carpet ride (and each ride hence), of a certainty. She was slightly dazzled by Genie's parlor tricks betimes, but never had she longed for Aladdin to make love to her.

Passing strange that the thought had never crossed her mind before, and now that it did, it disgusted her. Jasmine glanced up her reflection once more. She wondered if Nadja had run, if Mozenrath had run with her, far from his basis of power, far from home. She wondered if they made love like gods at war, if Mozenrath touched Nadja in such a way as to subdue the woman. She wondered how Nadja kissed him, if it was as innocent and untainted as the way Aladdin kissed her…or if it was filthy and feral. Jasmine shut the book on that wondering. She wondered if they would honor the clemency granted them. It was then, it dawned upon her.

Why had her father been so lenient? He did not need to free both for the task to be completed. Jasmine's sleep-deprived eyes narrowed. As she dressed that morning, she decided she would pry her father for answers. Justice had not been served, and she knew her father—while a gentle man by nature—knew when to steel his will against the tide of love…even a love as subtle and secretly consuming as the one Nadja harbored for the evil sorcerer. Jasmine wanted to spit just thinking of it. Were it not for Mozenrath and Nadja she would be dead. Were it not for Mozenrath, none of this would have happened.

When had it all changed? When did things go from black and white to an insurmountable shade of gray?

I believe I can see the future, because I repeat the same routine.
I think I used to have a purpose, but then again, that might have been a dream.

"It's not working, Nadja. Try it again." Mozenrath's voice sounded drained and fatigued—she knew they'd been overexerting themselves, but she was bound to keep her own counsel on the matter. With a heavy sigh, she continued to pump the lever that charged the sorcerer with electrical energy, to supposedly amplify his power to call down Aniki as he had attempted innumerable times before. Nadja could only sigh sadly.

He still did not understand…

"Damnit!" He cried and sank to his knees, sweat glistening on his pale skin. Nadja did not move to his side, but Xerxes was there slithering by his master's side. Nadja watched with a cool indifference as Mozenrath rose trembling to his feet. His body exuded sweat, while his gauntlet exuded wisps of blue smoke from absorbing most of the energy that had passed through the sorcerer. While it was parasitic, it did serve as an inadvertent defense for the man. Nadja feared that he was too dependent upon magical power to realize other strengths he could have cultivated. So engrossed was the woman in her own thoughts that she scarce realized he'd closed the distance between them, the icy grip of his gloved hand closing around her deceptively delicate wrist. For weeks he had focused on nothing but finding godhood, and for weeks he had failed.

He was tired of failing.

"You know the question…but so too do you know the answer," he said, his voice drained of its demanding arrogance, leeched free of the power to command, and imbued with the tone of desperation. Nadja could practically taste the plea in his voice. He was exhausted, and it showed in the dark circles under his eyes, and the drawn look on his face.

"Nadja…please…it is the only way to clear our names." Nadja sobered then, inclining her chin a touch before she responded, gingerly prying his grip from her wrist.

"Mozenrath, you know how you feel when something is handed to you; something that you work hard for only to have it simply given to you like an errant child receives a candy to pacify their cries? You know the feeling of disappointment that comes with having it so easy?" Mozenrath's expression waned from exhaustion to irritation and the corner of his mouth twitched as his lips twisted into a frustrated snarl.

"Exactly," Nadja continued, putting her hands on his slender shoulders, "If I told you how easy it was to reclaim your lost godhood, not only would you be disappointed in its simplicity, but you would not believe me anyway. I will, however, tell you that the path to your lost godhood does not lay in relentlessly overextending yourself and charging yourself with limitless energy. That is not how you summoned Aniki before, and naught has changed since then." Mozenrath saw her point, and sighed, knifing his fingers through his hair. Nadja began to walk away when the icy grip caught her wrist again. The sorcerer jerked her close, pressing his forehead against her own, shutting his eyes and breathing deep her scent. Even here, in a land where spices and incense practically swirled in the sands, her scent was exotic and strikingly distinct. His hands smoothed along the small of her back, admiring the rotund curve of her rear.

"You must see me through this, Nadja. Many things I can accomplish alone, but this is something far more difficult than even my power can handle." Even in a bared moment of vulnerability he maintained his prickling hubris. "It's been a long few weeks. Perhaps we should rest." God knew they had earned a respite for their toil. Mozenrath's lips pressed against her own, cool and smooth. For once, Nadja could not will the consuming passion that had gripped her to stir and she pulled away.

"What is it?" Mozenrath asked, almost concerned, yet frustration bled around the edges of his voice. Nadja pursed her lips.

"You are going to destroy yourself," She said and Mozenrath was already throwing up his hands in exasperation.

"Oh this again, Nadja? How many times have I told you: I can handle it?" He growled. "I have summoned Aniki before without even trying and wasn't even remotely taxed afterward. In fact, whatever injuries I had healed shortly after." Nadja shook her head.

"That's not what I meant, you know that. You've the Gauntlet gnawing away at your humanity on one end and this foolish godhood reclamation attempt on the other and for what? Clearing your name with people you hate? You've the power to level their entire kingdom on a whim. Why should you have to clear your name for them?" Mozenrath's brows raised in genuine surprise. Then, his expression went into that sultry, smug and superior look he always wore.

"Well, well, well…look who finally got their gumption back. Does this mean you want to wage war with the Seven Desert kingdoms with me, Nadja?" Nadja hesitated and he almost wanted to slap her.

"No," she said shortly, "I am telling you to ignore them. What's seven kingdoms compared to the world? Conquer the world around them…they'll have no choice but to fall at your feet then." Nadja could not believe she was saying this, but she was lucky Mozenrath was thirsty for power else he would have gone through with it.

"That is a splendid plan, Adder…and I shall enjoy executing it after I have claimed my rightful place as a god." Nadja palmed her face. Mozenrath took her hand away, chuckling.

"And you…you will help me rule this place, won't you?" Nadja saw him in that instant as a child, starved for attention and love. She shrugged.

"I've no god to tether me to their service."

"Save one." Mozenrath corrected, his voiced pitched lower as he kissed her again. This time, Nadja felt her passion stir a little hotter than before.