"Again. You're overthinking it"
Gripping the handle of the sword, Jafar slid his foot back into position. Across from him, Hakim twirled his sword in his hand before falling into another stance. Sweat beaded down Jafar's face, a wave of frustration coming over him. They had been out here a few hours and he had yet been able to tap Hakim.
Metal hitting metal echoed through the gardens of the palace. The sun hung high in the sky, beating down on the two men training. It was one of the hottest summers that Agrabah had seen in ages. Most, if not everyone, attempted to stay indoors to keep cool during some of the hottests points during the day.
Hakim had other ideas, "You have to be ready for any type of situation, prepared to stand out in the heat for hours on end," he explained as they walked together, "if we can't stand up to heat, then what good are we to the royal family?"
Which is how the duo found themselves out in the blazing sun, Jafar dodging a swing from the older man's sword. He parried an attack, twisting out of the other man's reach. Hakim countered quickly, swinging his sword toward the midsection of Jafar in an attempt to throw him off. Identifying the attack, Jafar turned on his heel and swung his sword out, Hakim's arm exposed. Stopping before the weapon could cut through his clothing, Jafar lightly tapped his trainer's arm.
A sigh left Jafar, smile tugging on his lips, before standing back up fully, "Only took a few hours…," he panted, wiping his sleeve across his forehead.
"Better," Hakim replied with a nod, sheathing his sword, "You're starting to anticipate attacks better."
"It's trying to get used to the flow of it," Jafar explained, putting his own sword away, "and trying not to overthink or think ahead is tricky…"
The two walked over to the edge of the gardens where a tree almost as tall as the palace's walls grew. It's giant branches provided the perfect amount of shade from the excessive heat. Grabbing his discarded shemagh, Jafar wiped the sweat from his face and rubbing his head, still getting used to not having the familiar curls he had been with for so long. It was odd, them not being there, but he felt like it had been time to get rid of them.
The short hair would take some getting used to though.
"You have to admit this heat is ridiculous," Jafar argued, sitting down cross legged on the grass, "I can't remember a day as hot as the last few we've had."
Hakim sat against the tree, setting his sword beside him, and leaned back, "It'll pass like all other things," Jafar shot the older man a look and he laughed, "But yes...it's very hot."
Though the man was a few years older than him, Jafar enjoyed being around Hakim. He was different from most of the other guards, who didn't seem like they wanted to give Jafar the time of day. Busy with their own jobs and lives. But he had gotten to know Hakim from being around the royal family so often. Silent and determined while on duty, but they had talked during some late nights that showed an amusing side to him. Thoughtful as well.
He admired Hakim's sense of loyalty.
"Are you still thinking of joining the army?"
Jafar coughed, choking on the water he had been drinking, and patted his chest, "Who told you that?"
The other man shrugged, "Word gets around, you should know that. Why else would you ask to train?"
He frowned, "Maybe because I wanted to be a palace guard?"
"Don't play dumb…"
Jafar's shoulders slouched, a hand picking at the shemagh that sat in his lap. It had been a thought that was bothering him for a week. More than the idea bothering him was the conversation he had with Prince Hamed about it. His teeth gritted at the name.
It had been a simple idea. The sultan had mentioned it to him one night when Jafar stopped to deliver a message regarding a neighboring kingdom from the prince. They would be looking for new recruits and he thought that Jafar should take a look into the matter.
"You can't be my son's messenger forever," he had stated, leaning back in his chair, "as much as he would like you to be. Keep it in mind."
A seed was planted. It made sense to the young man, he couldn't stay in the same position with Prince Hamed forever. Staying in one position for the rest of his time wasn't what Jafar wanted. As much as he loved being in the palace and being in his kingdom, he wanted to see more. What was life in other countries, other kingdoms like? Princess Sabira would describe her home country in such detail to him when he would ask her, he could almost picture it in his mind. But he wanted to see those places, experience what it was like.
Being at the side of the prince wouldn't allow for that, at least now. Prince Hamed mostly stayed within the walls of the palace, working with the grand vizier and other advisors of his father. The majority of his free time was spent with his family.
Offhandedly, Jafar mentioned it one night to the prince before they separated for the evening. They had come to an agreement about him training with Hakim to possibly become a guard. It didn't seem like a stretch for him to mention possibly joining the army as well.
The anger that had flashed in the prince's eyes shocked him. They argued, Jafar not understanding what had brought such a reaction and Prince Hamed at dismissed him, his backed turned to him.
It had been a week since that happened and he still couldn't bring himself to see the prince.
The younger man shrugged, "I don't know...maybe, I haven't decided. It was just a thought."
"A word of advice?"
"Are you going to tell me not to?" Jafar asked, glaring over at Hakim. Did they all think so lowly of him that he couldn't even join the army?
"It's miserable, trust me," he contended, crossing his arms over his chest, shrugging, "I see what they put those guys through."
Anger coursed through him, his hand fisted into his shemagh, "And you don't think I could handle it?"
Hakim shook his head, "I didn't say that," he shot back, "You could. I'm just saying you could be used better somewhere else."
Jafar's eyebrow's furrowed, "What do you me-"
"Hakim!"
The high pitched cry caused the two young men to turn. A small figure in sky blue charged towards them, a happy laugh escaping the young child as she approached. Jasmine's smile shined, jumping into Hakim's lap and wrapping her small arms around his chest.
"I knew it was you!" she exclaimed, looking up at him, "Mama wasn't sure but I just knew it was you!"
Jafar snorted, covering his mouth to keep the laughter at bay. Hakim, one of the bravest men in the kingdom, was frozen, unsure of how to react to the young princess. The image was priceless.
"Princess…" Hakim sighed, patting her head, "It is good to see you. Where is you mother?"
"She's coming! She was talking to…," her voice trailed off as it she seemed to realize that Hakim wasn't alone under the tree. Her eyes, the shimmering brown Jafar remembered from all those years ago, were trained on him.
"Jaffa?"
He blinked and the young girl was in front of him, her eyes squinting, confusion on her face. She looked him up and down, as if she was trying to find something, before she gasped, reaching up at his head.
"Curls! Where are your curls?!"
Standing on his crossed legs, her hands pawed at his short hair. Jafar's cheeks were a deep red, frustration and embarrassment covering his face. He could hear Hakim chuckling beyond the small princess.
"Jasmine, don't crawl all over him…"
Grabbing the small child, Jasmine pouted as her mother placed her down between the two young men, "But mama, Jaffa's curls are gone!"
Sabira shot Jafar a small smile, before sighing, "It's just a haircut dear...he probably didn't like dealing with them in the hot weather. And it's Jafar, not Jaffa."
The young princes kept up her act, crossing her arms in defiance, "I like Jaffa."
"It's ok Princess Sabria," Jafar stated, a calm expression on his face, "Jaffa is alright. But only my real friends can call me Jafar."
The girl turned swiftly in his direction, gasping, "Am I not a real friend?!"
"Well," he shrugged, looking away from her, "My real friends know my name…"
"But I do! I do know it Jaff- Ja…," she stuttered for a moment, biting her lip, "Jafar."
He held out his hands, clapping lightly for her, "See? Now I know we're friends."
Hakim leaned around the young princess, raising an eyebrow, "I like Jaffa though, more fun to say."
Jafar groaned as Jasmine cheered, turning to Hakim and chatting non-stop with him. The older man's expression became slightly distressed, shooting him a "help me" look that Jafar pretended to ignore.
Jafar stood and he found Princess Sabira's hand rested on his shoulder. He looked up at her, "Do you mind if we speak for a moment?"
He bowed his head, though his heart screamed for him to come up with an excuse not to speak with her, "Of course princess."
"Jasmine," Sabira called, getting her daughter's attention, "Why don't you and Hakim go to the kitchen and get some snacks to eat out here? If you don't mind Hakim?"
"Of course princess," he replied, his hand in the vice grip of Jasmine.
Jasmine sprung up, Hakim right behind her, "That sounds perfect! What a great idea mam. Let's go Hakim!"
The duo walked off, Jasmine almost dragging the poor man along. Jafar couldn't help but laugh, covering his mouth with his hand again to keep his composure.
Sabira smiled, shaking her head, "That girl has more energy than I have ever seen."
"Children often do," he replied.
Grasping his elbow lightly, Sabira brought Jafar over to a bench that sat a few feet away from the tree, though still within the distance of the shade it provided.
Sitting down beside the princess, Jafar's hand sat on his lap, posture rigid. There was only one subject she would bring up with him and it hurt him more then he should allow it. The princess probably thought him a fool, the idea of him of all people wanting to join an army. Prince Hamed probably regaled her with his ludicrous suggestion.
"Jasmine had a small incident this week. You see," Sabria's voice, light and comforting, broke him from his spiraling thoughts, "She was having fun here in the garden, chasing after a small bird of all things. I was talking with my hand maid's, took my eyes off her for one second.
"She tripped, scraped her knee," a smile tugged on Sabira's lips, "it bothered her for a moment, but then she was fine. Skipping around, laughing. But when I told my husband before we had supper…," she trailed off, turning her head and meeting Jafar's gaze, "You would have thought she was seriously injured. It took some time for me to calm him down."
Jafar frowned, confused, "What does that have to do…"
"My husband is an overprotective man," she injected, her hand resting on his shoulder again, "The idea of someone he cares about being in any type of potential danger sets him on edge. I had a feeling this issue relates to the argument you two seemed to have early this week."
"He told you." His voice was flat, turning his gaze away from the princess.
"No, he didn't admit it. But I figured something happened when I didn't see you all week," her voice was soft, an understanding behind it, "He did mention at some point that his father was trying to gather more people for his army, younger men. I added up the pieces from there.
"Am I close?"
Biting the inside of his cheek, Jafar stayed silence. An anger flared in his chest, how easy she was able to figure it out. What sort of game was she playing? Did she mean to tease him with this information? Mock him for losing the one connection he had within these walls?
What right did she have?
'Calm yourself…'
Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath. Thoughts like that did nothing for him. Letting his anger fester didn't help him. Princess Sabria meant no harm. She only wanted to help.
He rubbed his head, fingers running through the short strands, "It was only a suggestion," he shrugged, "I didn't think….he would be so upset."
"I don't think it was just that you suggested it," a sigh escaped her, Sabria shaking her head, "The fact that I assume it was his father who suggest it to you?" Jafar nodded. "That probably didn't help matters. Hamed has had issues with his father for some time now, you know this."
What she said made sense. Prince Hamed's relationship with his father was strained at the best of times. But it didn't help the frustration Jafar felt, the pain in his chest.
"I don't know what to say to him," he muttered, turning his gaze to the princess, "He probably doesn't want to see me."
Soft hands grasped his own, an understanding in Sabria's eyes, "When you speak with him, you'll know what to say. And he won't admit it, because he is also a stubborn man like yourself, but he has missed you. I see it when he turns his head to speak with you and your presence isn't there."
Jafar missed it too, his conversations with the prince. How he would ask for his opinion on matters when he was unsure on the subject. Discussing one of the many books they shared a common interest with. Even showing him the progress that had been made with Iago, who still didn't listen to Jafar completely but had moved past trying to attack him for food.
Prince Hamed always laughed at their antics.
Sabira's grip on his hands tightened, "He should be up in his study, he's free most of the day. You should speak with him."
A lump had grown in his throat, his eyes fixated on their hands. Hundreds of scenarios ran through his mind on how it could end badly, how he could make the situation become worse. Everything he touched seemed to rot in time, how would this relationship be any different?
'Don't overthink it.'
Hakim's voice echoed in his head. He couldn't continue to assume what was going to happen. It needed to happen naturally.
"Can you please tell Hakim I will be back?" He asked. "We were supposed to train more."
Smiling, she nodded, pulling her hands back from his, "Of course. I'm sure his time will be preoccupied by a certain small child."
"My condolences to him," he replied with a small laugh, standing from the bench. He bowed his head to her, "Thank you my princess."
"You're so formal Jafar," she chuckled, "Go, before Jasmine returns. She'll never let you out of her sight."
His feet were rooted in front of the door of Prince Hamed's study. How long he had been standing there, staring at it, he didn't know. To anyone passing by, the sight was probably strange. A panic had settled in his chest. What if, even with an apology, he wasn't forgiven? Banished from the palace? He couldn't go back to the streets.
That thought horrified him more than anything.
'The prince wouldn't do that...you're being dramatic.'
Closing in eyes, Jafar inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled, trying to calm his nerves. Best to get it over and done with as quickly as he could.
He raised his hand and knocked on the door. His head hung, gaze on his feet, waiting for a response. What were seconds felt like hours. The princess must have been mistaken, he must be busy with other ma-
"Come in."
His head shot up, eyes wide. The moment of truth.
Carefully, he opened the door, surveying the room. It wasn't as organized as before, some parchements littered the ground, books lingering by the shelf but not in there normal resting place.
Prince Hamed sat at his desk, head down, looking over a document he held in his hand. He hadn't looked up to see who had entered his study.
The door closed behind him, Jafar kept his distance. He stood at attention, arms behind his back, his feet apart. His hands shook behind him, "My prince."
Hamed looked up, startled by the voice, "Jafar?"
Nodding to him, Jafar pushed on, head bowed, "I came to apologize. My behavior early in the week was childish. I hope you can accept my sin-"
"Jafar."
The words caught in his throat. His train of thought lost, he felt panic creeping over him. His gaze stayed at his feet, but he could hear thc prince's clothing shifting, rising from his chair. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. His plan was crumbling and along with it, his resolve. How did he allow the prince to continue to affect him like this? Revert him to the small boy that had lived on the streets all those years ago?
"Is there something interesting on the ground?"
Jumping back slightly, Jafar's head shot up. Prince Hamed looked down at him, an eyebrow raised, "They were cleaned the other day, but they can't be that interesting."
"I…," he stopped, no words coming to him as his mind raced.
The prince shook his head, a small chuckle escaping him, "It seems to me...whenever we have these types of discussions, you're the one always apologizing…," a sad smile touched his lips, "when it should be the other way around."
Jafar's eyebrows furrowed, taking a step toward him, "My prince, I must ins-"
"The argument was so bad it reverted you back to only saying 'my prince'," Hamed muttered, sighing, "How foolish of me."
Flustered, the young man pressed on, "There is ...nothing you have to apologize for, I was out of li-"
The prince's hand grasped the back of his neck, his hold gentle. He leaned down, their eyes at the same level. There was something in them that Jafar couldn't place. A sadness…but there was more to it.
"My anger that night was wrongly directed at you...when I heard you mention the idea of the army, I…" his voice trailed off, looking away from him with shame.
Sabiri's words echoed in Jafar's mind, "You heard the sultan…"
Hamed's eyes shot back up to his, surprised, a small laugh escaping his lips, "Have you been speaking with my darling wife?"
"There is a possibility…,"Jafar conceded, a small blush forming on his cheeks. He didn't mean to give away the princess that easily, "She put the pieces together."
"A talent of her's," Hamed agreed, "But yes. We had a disagreement about it the day before and when you mentioned it, in my mind I thought of it as a taunt from him. My anger was misplaced."
That idea hadn't crossed Jafar's mind. The sultan using him? It made sense, he would know of his close relationship with the prince. He would know that any sort of message from him would be reported back to his son. Anger flared in his chest. To be used like that, like some sort of pawn.
What hurt the most from their argument hadn't been addressed. "Do you think I could do it?"
Hamed's eyebrows furrowed, "Do what?"
"Go into the army? Do you think I would be able to do it?" It was childish, this need of approval. But Jafar yearned for it, even now. It was funny. When it was him on the streets, he only had himself to rely on. Only himself to trust. He didn't care about the opinions of others, they all had shared the same ones about him.
But the prince trusted him, brought him in. All Jafar ever wanted to do was make him proud. To show it wasn't a mistake to bring him in from the streets. To prove his worth to the kingdom. Show the whispering delegates, whose gaze would linger on him as he walked with the prince, that he wasn't just some street boy.
In the end, he would prove them all wrong. He would rise above them all.
An understanding came over the prince's face, "It seems there was more of a misunderstanding then I realized. Of course you could Jafar. You are a bright young man, if it's your heart to desire to do so...I won't stop you."
Jafar's shoulders slumped in relief, "I had thought maybe…"
Hamed's hand slide down to his shoulder, squeezing it, "I'm sorry if you felt like I was belittling you. It wouldn't be my first choice...but if it was what you wanted, I wouldn't stop you."
"I haven't decided yet," Jafar injected, "It's just an option...I would still like to be by your side. If that is what you desire as well."
"Always so formal Jafar," Hamed replied with a smile. He stood up fully, hand resting on Jafar's shoulder, "Of course you can. There are other duties that I can find for you as you gain more experience. If it interests you, you could be my eyes and ears when it comes to visiting some of the other kingdoms. Since I have been unable to do so these past few years," the young man's eyes lit up at that idea, nodding along, ''unless you have already decided to become a palace guard?"
"Ah, no not yet, what made you think…?"
"Well I assumed, I heard you training with Hakim out there in the gardens. And," his hand moved from the young man's shoulder to his head, giving it a rub, "You cut off all your hair."
He groaned, earning a laugh from the prince, "You daughter mentioned the same thing. Should I alert the family when I get another haircut, my prince?"
"On such an important manner? Of course."
The night sky was littered with hundreds of stars, Jafar's eyes taking in all of them. In his quarters, he sat in an alcove, his mind racing. The idea of acting as stand in for the prince on kingdom relation matters enticed him. It was perfect for him.
With it, he would rise through the ranks. Gain the respect he deserved, the power that he strived for. Continuing to gain the confidence of the prince, who was soon to be sultan.
The opportunity allowed anything to be possible.
His mind even played with the notion of becoming the grand vizier.
It would take time. Patience. But he had plenty of that, learning from his days of stealing off the streets. He would just have to sit and wait, playing his cards right.
Like a snake waiting for its prey.
This chapter turned into a monster and became so long, I only blame myself. I was like "let's have hakim and jafar talk, and oh let's have young jasmine! and young jasmine must have the her mother, let's have her talk to jafar! and of course the prince!" so you get my longer chapter since this one took me a few days.
Next chapter will be different for sure, gonna get a little angsty and dark, and that's why we have a bit of fluff here. But we still got that anger that Jafar is trying to keep down...which is growing more in age.
Also, I don't know why I thought the idea of Jafar cutting off his curly hair for the look he has in the movie would be funny, but it is. Cause Marwan's curly hair is so nice and it's a CRIME we didn't get it.
Shemagh - (pronounced "shamay" or "schmog") is a soft piece of woven cotton cloth, kind of like a giant heavyweight bandana.
