Disclaimer: I do not own Aladdin, nor do I own any of the characters therein. I do, however, own Leona and Joseph Sutherland, who hail from a medieval state known as Kievan Rus' (which is now modern Ukraine), populated by Norsemen, who are known as Rus. The capital of Kievan Rus' is Kiev. Porthaven is entirely fictional, as is any history/setting related to it.
Chapter 1
The fact that they were wearing thick hide clothing and long sable furs belied that they were foreigners and quite unused to the hot desert air. It did not help that it was summer. They looked quite uncomfortable—the man with his wide-brimmed black hat and heavy coat, and the girl behind him wrapped in a long dark cloak with the hood down low over her head. Even their horses were sweating. What could be seen of their faces was red, and their eyes drooped with exhaustion. It was difficult not to notice them and wonder from what far-off kingdom they hailed.
"It isn't much farther, Leona," the man glanced wearily over his shoulder at the girl. "Isn't the city quaint?" Even in the heat, the man's glass-green eyes sparkled with keen interest.
"I've certainly never seen anything like it," Leona replied with equal, but veiled interest.
The man removed his hat for a brief moment, running a hand over his thinning hair. It was fairly long and dark, and pulled back into a tight knot, but there were streaks of silver that practically glowed under the hot summer sun. "It's certainly hotter than anywhere you've been," he laughed wryly and replaced his hat. "Your mother would have loved it here."
Shifting uncomfortably under her cloak, Leona replied, "Can I take my cloak off, Papa? We're close enough to the palace, I'm sure..."
"No, Leona." The man shook his head. "It is improper for young women to be outside without their faces covered. I am sure that we will be able to find you more suitable clothing once we are settled in."
"People are staring," Leona muttered, mostly to herself.
Either her father ignored her, or he was too busy staring at the smooth, alabaster wall that loomed in front of them to reply. "Isn't this marvelous?" He inquired in an awed voice. "Amazing stonework."
As they approached, two guards stepped in front of the tall wooden doorway, which seemed to be the only entrance to the palace grounds that lay within.
"Name and business, please," the guard on the left ordered boredly.
"Joseph Sutherland, and this is my daughter, Leona. The sultan requested my services as an artisan. We have traveled quite far, as you can probably see, and—"
"Papers," the guard interrupted with an outthrust hand.
"Oh, of course," Joseph reached into a pocket somewhere in the inner folds of his coat, rifling for a moment before drawing out a somewhat damp, limp set of papers.
The guard examined them hastily and with thinly veiled disgust before nodding and motioning with a hand toward the gate.
"Go around the back, through the gardens. Servants are not allowed to use the front entrance." He nearly threw the sweaty papers back at Joseph as the heavy wooden doors creaked open.
Leona bit her tongue, frowning beneath her hood. They were not servants. Her father had come to do a job for the sultan, and that was it. She peered at the strange, dark-skinned men in their loose white britches and open vests as she followed her father through the gate. They peered back with equal curiosity, though there was considerably less of her to see under her thick layers of clothing.
The gardens within the wall were quite a sight for Leona, who had never travelled so far from her home. The lawns were a vivid green color that could have never looked so bright except under the searing white sun, and the trees grew twisted and gnarled and in all directions except straight up, their soft jade green leaves providing some shade.
She was sure she would be unable to describe all the scents of the various flowers that grew in copious amounts along the smooth path to the palace, let alone the strange birds that basked in the water, their eyes half closed in the bright light. They were exotic and extraordinary to her.
"What's that?" Leona inquired as they dismounted, tugging at her father's sleeve and pointing toward a large pink bird that was perched on absurdly long, twiggy legs.
"I don't know," Joseph murmured, gazing at it with such interest that he did not notice when a servant discretely removed the horses' reins from his hand and led the beasts away to the stables. They were only steps away from the grand doors to the palace, but the two travelers had been completely absorbed in their curiosity, and they did not realize that they could quite possibly be expected inside.
"Those are flamingos, I believe." The thin, languid voice startled Leona out of her thoughts, and she whirled around to face the newcomer.
He stood head and shoulders above Leona, who considered herself fairly tall for a girl of nearly twenty, and the tall black headdress he wore likely doubled the height he had above her. She stared curiously at the feather stuck to the front of his hat, wondering for what strange ceremony he might possibly need such a strange hat for. Could this be the 'turban' thing her father had been telling her these people often wore? It looked a lot stranger than she had expected. His beard was thin and long, framing his wide mouth and twisting at the end of his chin like a black corkscrew. He looked completely at ease in the heat, despite his dark attire, and he smelled somewhat faintly of alchemy. There was a nagging air of sinister mystery about him that Leona didn't like.
"My," Joseph murmured with interest, just barely turning away from the flamingo to study that man who had approached them. "That certainly is an outlandish costume."
"Perhaps it is not I who is outlandish," the man replied with a bit of a sneer in his voice, studying Leona carefully and with a raised eyebrow.
She realized then that she was still gaping and closed her mouth immediately with a snap. It was difficult not to continue to stare, however, at the man's tall brass-colored staff that he held tightly in one hand. Leona was particularly enthralled by the snake-shaped head, its ruby eyes actually seeming to stare right back at her.
"And just where is it that you hail from, anyway?" The tall man inquired before either of the other two could speak.
"Oh, it's quite far off," Joseph answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'm sure you've never even heard of it."
The man grinned fiercely, murmuring in a silky challenge, "Try me."
"It's naught but a small porting town," Joseph stated. "Porthaven, as a matter of fact. It's quite farther north than Kiev."
"Kievan Rus', then? Am I to assume that you are Rus?" The man stared with suspicious amusement at the both of them, Leona in particular, whose hood had slipped from her head and bared her dark red hair.
"We are not native Rus, no." Joseph shook his head. "But it is where I have lived most of my life, and it is all that my daughter has known."
"Then you must be the stoneworker. Sutherland, was it?"
"Yes, I am Joseph Sutherland, the artisan." He frowned and inquired carefully, "Who does that make you to know our business?"
Standing up to his full height, the man looked straight down his hawk-like nose at Joseph through heavily lidded eyes. "I am his majesty's Grand Vizier." He forced a smile and inclined his head the tiniest bit. Leona almost wouldn't have noticed this "bow" except that the bright red feather in the man's turban bent minutely in Joseph's direction. "All matters such as these are directed through me," he added haughtily.
"Oh wonderful!" Joseph's demeanor changed immediately from slightly suspicious to completely welcoming and friendly. "It is a pleasure and an honor to make your acquaintance." He bowed deeply and with exceeding grace.
"I'm sure," was the Grand Vizier's only response. He sighed impatiently and cast a jaundiced glanced toward the palace doors before turning back to Joseph, with one eye still trained on Leona. "The sultan has been expecting you. I suggest you not keep him waiting any longer."
"Of course not," Joseph inclined his head, nearly blinding the other man with the glare off of the bald dome that was the top of his head. "If you could perhaps lead the way?" He suggested with a polite gesture of his hand.
The Grand Vizier smiled thinly, "It would be my pleasure, I am sure."
Leona could tell that he didn't mean it.
A guard stood at either side of the doors to the palace, and when they saw the Grand Vizier approaching, they immediately scurried to open the way for him. It was impossible for Leona to see his face, but she was sure it wasn't a pleasant look to have sent the guards into such a frenzy of flattery. She had to step over the outstretched hands of one who had fallen flat on his face in some strange semblance of bowing to the Grand Vizier. Frowning, Leona wondered what kind of sultan would keep a man who instilled such fear in people around.
"Papa," she hissed, tugging on her father's sleeve.
"Not now, Leona." The older man shook his head and brushed her hand away. He also looked slightly worried, and his forehead glistened with a thin sheen of perspiration, although that was probably just from the intense heat.
It was cooler inside the thick stone walls of the palace, but both father and daughter were still very uncomfortable in their warm traveling clothes. Leona thought longingly of the loose, light summer dresses she had packed in her saddlebags, but she knew that her father's business would quite likely take a fairly long time. It would be dark by the time she could settle into more comfortable clothing.
The chamber they had entered was larger than any Leona had ever seen, and made of finer material as well. The white marble and alabaster gleamed in the golden light that filtered in from outside, and her footsteps, however soft she tried to make them, echoed loudly. At the opposite end was a magnificent golden throne cushioned with pillows of the brightest blue Leona had ever seen.
"Your highness." The Grand Vizier suddenly lost all haughtiness in his demeanor, gushing obsequiously as he crossed the room and approached the throne.
The sultan was not at all what Leona expected to see. He was short, plump, and fair-skinned. Most of his face was covered with white hair from his thick beard, or the gray hair of his eyebrows. He had small bright eyes that glistened with friendliness, and he beamed with all the good nature he seemed able to hold in his stubby form at the tall, olive-skinned man.
"Oh, Jafar! I was wondering where you had disappeared to. I've been having a most frightful time trying to—"
"Of course, your majesty," the man, Jafar, interrupted. He obviously didn't care how the sultan planned on ending that sentence.
Leona wondered briefly how anybody would dare address their ruler with such disrespect. She glanced at her father, who was frowning as well, and staring at the Grand Vizier with careful calculation. Looking back at Jafar, Leona noticed that a bright red bird had suddenly landed on his shoulder. It peered owlishly in her direction, squawking loudly as it stepped anxiously from side to side on the man's shoulder. The man merely glanced Leona's way, absently running a long finger over the bird's feathers to calm it. She didn't like being stared at, and she looked away, concentrating on the sultan.
"Who is this?" The sultan inquired with curiosity as he spied the foreigners, not noticing Jafar's disinterest.
"The artisan you requested to see, your highness," Jafar replied with a discrete roll of his eyes that only Joseph noticed out of the corner of his eye.
Joseph immediately stepped forward and bobbed into another deep bow. "Your majesty," he murmured politely. "My name is Joseph Sutherland, and this," he gestured toward Leona with a hand, "is my daughter, Leona."
"Praise Allah!" The sultan exclaimed with joy, clapping his tiny hands together gleefully. "I have been quite anxious to meet you," the sultan greeted Joseph in a warm voice, taking Joseph by the hand and shaking it vigorously. He peered at Leona and inquired with curiosity, "And just how old are you, young lady?"
"Uh, I—" Leona stuttered, shaken at being so directly addressed by the sultan himself. "I'm almost twenty years, your highness." She curtsied respectfully, biting her lip nervously when both the sultan and his Grand Vizier stared at her. It didn't help that she felt very sick by this point in time.
"Twenty years of age and not yet married?" The sultan exclaimed, exchanging a glance with Jafar, who didn't seem as particularly surprised as he was amused. "Is that customary where you come from?"
Joseph noticed Leona's hesitation and he stepped in smoothly, replying, "No, your highness. I am, unfortunately, quite attached to my daughter. She is all I have left, and I am reluctant to give her away to just any man."
"I quite understand." The sultan nodded. "I, too, have a daughter who is nearing an age at which she should be married." He sighed, shook his head slowly, and then looked up at Leona. "Well, perhaps you two would get along. She does get lonely at times…"
Jafar, whether out of impatience or boredom, cleared his throat loudly, and the sultan jumped slightly. "Perhaps, sire, you could get on to business?"
"Oh yes, yes, of course." The sultan waved Jafar off. "Joseph, is it?" He addressed Leona's father. "I would greatly appreciate it if you might come with me and examine…" He suddenly trailed off, looking at Leona, who had dropped to her knees, her face flushed and her eyes slightly crossed.
"Leona!" Joseph quickly caught her before she fell over. He touched her brow with his hand and frowned. She was burning.
"Oh dear," the sultan exclaimed. "I'm afraid that I didn't take into account your long journey. Please forgive me. Jafar—"
"Yes, your highness?" The man turned slowly toward the sultan, looking as if he was about to wince at any moment. He knew what was coming. The bird on his shoulder let out another loud squawk and repeated, "Highness? Highness?"
"Would you kindly show our guests to the chambers that have been prepared for them? I'm sure they will be much better off with a bit of rest first." He smiled kindly at Joseph, noticing that Leona was already nearly unconscious.
"Thank you, sire," Joseph inclined his head gratefully as he lifted Leona off the ground, balancing her weight in his arms. "I am so sorry to inconvenience you."
"Do not fret! I am sure that tomorrow I will have plenty of time to speak with you about your duties as chief artisan." He absently reached into an inner pocket and pulled a shapeless pasty cracker from within the folds and offered it to the bird on Jafar's shoulder.
The bird obviously did not want the cracker, backing away and trying to hide behind Jafar's turban.
"Chief?" Joseph repeated, stunned. "Your highness, I thought that one project—"
"Well, you must begin somewhere, right?" The sultan beamed, stuffing the cracker forcefully into the bird's beak. "Now off you go. Plenty of time tomorrow to discuss business." He waved them off, Jafar sulky and bad-tempered at being treated like an errand boy, and Joseph too surprised to speak.
Jafar strode quickly through the palace, his long legs carrying him quite far with every step. Joseph was not a short man, nor was he weak, but Leona's extra weight slowed him down, and his breath was gone by the time the Grand Vizier stopped in front of a small, doorway that was only covered by a thin curtain.
"Your room is the next door down," he stated impatiently to Joseph as the man tried to maneuver through the doorway with Leona in his arms.
The curtain did not wish to cooperate with Joseph, and he quickly became entangled, unable to sweep it aside with both his hands already occupied. Jafar merely watched in stoic silence, unwilling to assist the poor artisan. Finally, Joseph stumbled through on the other side, and he was able to gently place Leona on a soft divan couch. He removed her cloak and took off her heavy travelling boots as well. She moaned, her feet sore and swollen from all the travel, waking up slightly at the pain.
"Is there any water nearby?" Joseph rose to his feet and turned to Jafar, who stood in the doorway with a scowl on his face.
"I'll make sure to have a servant bring some. Is there anything else you require?" He asked with a sneer.
Joseph could tell that the man was in an irritable mood. "No, that should be fine, thank you," he replied politely.
"Let me make something very clear," Jafar approached Joseph, leaning forward, his dark brown eyes staring fiercely into Joseph's green ones. "The sultan may have invited you here to help him, artisan," he spat out the word with particular emphasis before continuing in a hiss, "but you answer to me first."
Joseph didn't have time to reply with even a "Yes, sir" before the man had whirled around and walked away, his bird cackling noisily as he exited.
Sighing, Joseph glanced around the room, which was large, but fairly simple. Curtains hung from the ceiling and across open archways that led out onto a balcony, and the floor was completely made of polished marble. He noticed a door on one wall, which upon further investigation led to an adjoining room. Seeing his things resting against a table within, he realized that it was his room. Joseph checked on Leona to make sure she would be alright, waiting until a servant had arrived with a bowl of cool water and a clean white cloth, which he immediately soaked in the water. The servant placed a small cup beside the basin of water before disappearing silently.
"Are you alright, Leona?" Joseph murmured, pressing the cool wet cloth against her forehead.
"Papa?" She groaned, her eyes flickering open. "It's so hot," the young woman whispered.
"This should help," he stated softly, dabbing her face with the cloth. "There's water to drink as well, if you're thirsty."
Leona nodded and sat up a bit. "I'm feeling a little better." She stretched and sighed. "I think I want to change into different clothes, if you don't mind."
"Of course not," Joseph replied and stood. "I'll be in that next room if you need anything. Try and rest. Sleep will do you wonders."
"Thank you, Papa." Leona smiled at her father, watching as he left before she located her saddlebags and rifled through them for a change of clothes. She did not get far, however, merely removing her outer clothing before falling back onto the divan in her shift and a single petticoat. Closing her eyes, Leona let herself slip into sleep, exhausted and quite unable to function anymore for the rest of the day.