A/N: As I said in the summary, this is Jafar's story about his life before he turned evil. It is told partially from his POV, and partially from the POV of Anjum, the woman who sets him on the path that we all know about. I know it starts a little slow, for which I'm sorry, but any review would be a ginormous (giant+enormous) help. The story picks up speed in the next couple of chapters and will continue to do so. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1

Anjum

She had worked in the palace repository since she was seven. At twenty-two, she was the head of the repository in all but name. After all, a female would never be trusted with such an important position; not officially, at any rate. Anjum had learned at her mother's knee how to read Arabic, Egyptian and Chinese, as well as how to mend books and preserve scrolls. Now, she spent her days translating foreign texts, caring for cracked parchment, and bringing the repository catalogue up to date. There was no finer library in the civilized world, though the new library in the Egyptian port city of Alexandria was rumored to be quickly catching up.

After the doors of the repository closed each night and the official Head had tottered off to bed, Anjum unbound the silk scarf she used to cover her head and keep her hair out of the way as she worked, and brought down a book to study. She rarely went to bed before the third hour after midnight, and was always up with the dawn. Anjum had followed this routine since her she was nine, when her mother died. At first to keep the grief at bay, it had quickly morphed into a way to survive. She was valuable to the repository because she knew so very much about the books it housed. She was able to recommend codices of law to lawyers and judges. She could cite winning arguments to traveling philosophers. When a mysterious plague swept through Agrabah six years ago, she was able to provide the frantic doctors with the medicine texts that had resulted in a cure.

Anjum was working carefully to reillumine the faded illustrations of an old treatise on botany when a petulant yell split the otherwise peaceful morning air. She groaned to herself. How had the Princess Jasmine escaped from her nurses and wound up in the repository? At five years of age, Jasmine could go from adorable to irksome in less time than it took to cough. She was also hideously destructive when she was in the middle of a temper tantrum. Anjum raced out from behind her desk, prepared to wrestle a manuscript from the volatile child, when the girl came into view, in the arms of her father.

The tiny Sultan, who just came up to Anjum's chin, had become useless as a ruler ever since his daughter had been born, killing her mother in childbirth. He dedicated all of his attention to her, spoiling her rotten. Anjum was furious about this. The birth of the princess had marked a sudden downhill slide of the kingdom. What had once been a prosperous land was now marked by severe socio-economic problems. The mortality rate had spiked due to a breakage of various public hygiene works. But all the Sultan cared about was his daughter, a smaller, chubbier version of her mother.

"Sultan," Anjum breathed, trying to control her temper. She wouldn't be able to protect her precious books if she were beheaded after all. "Sultan, why…may I ask…have you…honored us…with your presence?" The Sultan peered at her.

"Ansum, I needed to show our new vizier the repository. He will need a great deal of access to it after all."

"I seeeeeee," she grated, trying to ignore the hollers of the monkey-child in the Sultan's arms. "Well, I shall certainly be happy to assist the new vizier." The Sultan looked at her in surprise.

"Oh, my, my dear child, the vizier will need the expertise of the Head of the Repository, not a page-painter." Anjum almost screamed in fury. Not only had the old man forgone his kingdom for the sake of his mewling daughter, he paid no attention to what went on inside his own palace. Everyone knew to come to her, Anjum, not Ansum, not the withered old Head, for help in the Repository. Clenching her hands into fists to keep from strangling her ruler, nails biting deep into her palms, she bowed.

"Of course, my lord." The Sultan smiled cheerily at her, and Jasmine let out another yell.

"Oh, oh. She needs a nap," the Sultan whispered confidentially to Anjum. "I'll send the new vizier down here in about an hour. Please take him to the Head of the Repository." The one-track minded Sultan moved off, bouncing his shrieking child in his arms.

"Sultan," Anjum forced herself to call out.

"Oh, yes?" He turned. "What is it, Ablum?" Sucking her breath in through clenched teeth, Anjum asked "The new vizier, sir, what is his name?"

"Oh, that." The Sultan turned to leave again. "His name is Jafar."