Warning for descriptions of child abuse and mentions of death. Review if you want.
When Mozenrath was five, all he wanted was to go back home, to go back to his family. He didn't like living in Destane's citadel. Destane was mean and the citadel was dark and scary. Whenever he asked, Destane refused and punished him. Then Mozenrath said he just wanted to at least go for a visit. He promised he would come back and be obedient.
Destane never let him go. Mozenrath stopped asking.
When Mozenrath was eight, all he wanted was for his father to rescue him away from Destane's grip. Destane had started going further into his magical training, and had said that Mozenrath had no one, and so should focus on being less of a worthless apprentice. To prove his point, Destane forced Mozenrath to watch his mother die, to watch her call out to him. Later Mozenrath asked defiantly about his father. Destane happily showed him. Turns out, his father was feasting and gallivanting around with a pack of thieves. Mozenrath begged him to come, to remember him at least, but his father did not.
His father must have abandoned him. Abandoned him to be raised by Destane. His father was not coming for him. It was clear that he had no father, not anymore.
When Mozenrath was eleven, all he wanted was for Destane to at least not make Mozenrath kill people. Destane commanded him at first. When Mozenrath, though terrified, stood up and said no, Destane grew angry and tortured him as punishment. When Mozenrath still fought back, then Destane threatened to kill Xerxes, his only friend. Destane got his way. Destane also yelled at him for being weak enough to cry about it, and then punished him by sending him to the dungeons without food for three days.
Mozenrath had made his first kill at eleven, but it would not be his last.
When Mozenrath was eighteen, all he wanted was to be the most powerful sorcerer in the world. In the past year, at seventeen, he had stolen Destane's power, overthrown him, damned Destane's soul, and turned what was left of him into another one of the Mamluks, but that didn't feel like enough. It wasn't enough. He decided he would take over the Seven Deserts. That would prove he was the most powerful sorcerer in the world. He had one kingdom now. Surely, gradually but surely, he could take over the rest.
Every time he was defeated, he only grew angrier. What was it going to take, to have enough power? He was willing to sacrifice anything, as long as it was for power.
When Mozenrath was twenty-one, all he wanted now was to make Aladdin suffer. The wretched street rat had thwarted his plans too many times. He could not allow this humiliation to stand. He would still conquer the Seven Deserts, because it would crush Aladdin to lose. Then? Well, knowing Aladdin, what would hurt him most was if his precious "friends" and "loved ones" were targeted first. Aladdin didn't deserve to have them, anyway. He had never had to work for power.
That was one of the things Mozenrath hated most about Aladdin. The magic of a genie had been handed to Aladdin on a silver platter. What did Aladdin have to give up to have the genie, and an entire royal family on his side? Nothing. Mozenrath had struggled and suffered and gone through Hell and back for his quest for power. He had given his all, blood, sweat, toil, even his right hand for power. Yet, with all his sacrifice, hard work, magic and brilliance, he still kept losing to Aladdin? It was galling. It was infuriating. It was unfair.
When Mozenrath was twenty-six, all he wanted was to have people who cared about him, to be good to them back, and to be a good ruler.
He'd discovered that he was wrong before. He did not have no one. He had had Xerxes. His father, Cassim, had not abandoned him. Actually, his father had never given up on looking for him. He even had a brother. His brother had been Aladdin all along (making him very glad that he had failed in his previous goal to make Aladdin suffer), which meant he had a sister-in-law as well. After realizing that he had people who cared about him, even loved him, he no longer wanted to conquer the Seven Deserts. Instead, he started to work on restoring the Land of the Black Sand. Now it was partly the oasis it had been before Destane had cursed it, and was a kingdom that was flourishing and prosperous, full of life and excitement. He worked hard to take care of the citizens of the Land of the Black Sand. He'd even recently become an uncle. Life was good. It wasn't perfect - visiting his mother's grave was sometimes very sad, and Mozenrath sometimes fretted at the thought of children slipping through the cracks in some other kingdom - but it was good. Good enough. He had family. He wasn't slowly dying thanks to a destructive gauntlet. He had turned his kingdom into a safe haven for people, and a center of innovation. He had love.
And he was happy.