Hey guys! Here's Chapter Four! I hope you like everything so far! Please remember to review. I really appreciate it when you do!

Thanks,

May

Brother Dearest—Chapter Four

Without a second thought, Mozenrath had grabbed the carpet from the floor and hopped onto it, commanding that it transport him and Xerxes to the Land of the Black Sand. He didn't know if the rug was magical or not, but there was no harm in trying. Besides, he had just bludgeoned a woman to death, and the faster he left the village before anyone discovered that she was dead, the better.

As it turned out, the woman had been telling the truth about the carpet. It could fly, and it took commands. Before long, it had brought Mozenrath and his eel, much faster than the young wizard would have thought possible, to the Citadel. It was late afternoon by the time they had reached it, but they had done so in only a few hours' time, nonetheless. It was quite a feat.

Mozenrath went straight to his bedchamber, stripped off his disgusting excuse for clothes, and washed the old woman's blood, sand, dirt, and whatever other filth he had accumulated over the last few months, off with the finest of spices, perfumes, and oils that he possessed. It was wonderful, the first bath he had had in who knew how long.

Nothing about the deed he had just done bothered him, really, apart from the stench of the blood. After all, he had done the same to Destane and Amin Damoola, as well as countless others, without the slightest flinch or hesitation. Having killed before, he thought nothing of what he had done to this particular woman nor did he care what the villagers would think of him once they found out that he was the murderer. No, he didn't care what they thought of him, because, soon, he would rule over all of them. He would have his gauntlet back momentarily, and then he would proceed with his plans for world conquest.

That is, after he killed Aladdin.

He clenched his fists as he lay in the luxurious marble tub, his body immersed in the warm water, his nostrils taking in all of the marvelous scents around him. Aladdin.

Now, it was all perfectly clear.

At first, he had not believed what the old woman had shown him. He had thought that seeing the face of his greatest enemy emanating from the transparent glass ball was some sort of hoax to scare or torment him even further. It was not until the woman lay dead at his feet that he realized the truth.

He and the street rat were brothers.

And the worst part was that, deep down, he felt that he had known all along. Well, maybe not exactly that, but something. Ever since he had seen the younger man in Agrabah's bazaar that day, he had felt something, something connecting the two of them, for better or for worse, and now he knew just what it was.

He dunked his head underneath the warm water as he tried to remember anything—anything at all—about his life before Destane.

But, try as he might, there was nothing. He concluded that one of two things had happened: either Destane had somehow wiped Mozenrath's memory of his family, or he had simply been too young to recall them upon being taken under Destane's apprenticeship.

Mozenrath lifted his head out of the water. That was when he remembered the man from the tavern, the man whom he now knew to be his father. Thinking back on it, the man had favored Aladdin in looks quite a bit. Same eyes, same nose. Mozenrath scolded himself inwardly for not having seen that the street rat and the kind stranger were related right away.

He wondered how he and Aladdin had become separated from the man in the first place. Had he loved them? Or was his fatherhood a classic case of childhood abandonment?

Yes, the young wizard thought as he ran his flesh fingers through his now sweet-smelling hair. That had to have been it. How else had Aladdin wound up on the street if they had had a father who truly cared about and looked after them? Furthermore, if the man were a loving father, how had Mozenrath ended up as Destane's ward? A real father would not give his son away to a renowned evil sorcerer. Not willingly, at least.

At that moment, Mozenrath vowed that he would destroy his father, too. Eventually. He would turn his attention toward his brother first. Perhaps he would capture and torture him before his murder, thereby tormenting their father, if, indeed, Aladdin's demise were a source of torment for the man. Mozenrath wasn't sure. What he was sure of, however, was that he could not allow a man like his father around if he, Mozenrath, were going to take the world as his own, and, as he had told the old woman, he always took revenge on anyone who wronged him, and his father was no exception. To do so was one of many things he had learned from Destane.

Ah, Destane. Mozenrath stretched his arms and smiled cruelly as he remembered the old sorcerer.

Destane himself had not been a terrible father figure, as many would assume, however. In fact, he had been quite loving, having treated Mozenrath well and affectionately, most certainly better than Mozenrath's own father had ever treated him. The young sorcerer was now sure about that. But, the old wizard was weak and overly prideful, and as such, thought little of the small boy's magical abilities compared to his own and had underestimated him. It was something that Mozenrath could never understand fully, as Destane had taught the boy everything he himself knew, so why even think for a moment that the boy would not try to overpower him eventually? It was pure arrogance and foolishness, a dangerous oversight. However, his teachings had opened the door for even more on Mozenrath's part, as Mozenrath had now become even more powerful and had accomplished more than his predecessor ever had.

The old wizard had taught Mozenrath to never give up, to have confidence in everything he did, and, most importantly—Mozenrath let out a laugh upon remembering this—to never allow anyone to stand in his way, for any reason. It was this final teaching that had led to Destane's doom, for by relaying this simple value to his young apprentice, he had dug his own grave.

And now, almost eight years later, Mozenrath would dig Aladdin's, for he was a thorn in the young sorcerer's side that must be dealt with! If anything had changed at all about Mozenrath after learning that he and his greatest enemy were, in fact, siblings, it was his feelings toward the street rat.

His jealousy and hatred of the younger man had increased beyond anything the young wizard could imagine, for now Aladdin was his competition in more ways than just being a fellow ruler (or, in Aladdin's case, future fellow ruler, as Jasmine's father was still the Sultan of Agrabah, last Mozenrath checked) with whom Mozenrath quarreled for power. Now, he was Mozenrath's competition in who was the more powerful—and therefore, the greater—brother.

The young man rose from the tub. He brushed his dark curls until they were smooth and silky and his teeth until they were pearly white again. Finally, he dressed himself in new attire, complete with new robe, cape, and turban. As he looked at his now clean and perfectly groomed form in the mirror, he swelled with confidence and grinned broadly, for tonight was the night that he finished his brother.

For good.

He turned on his booted heel and made his way to the old woman's magic carpet, which was now lying in his throne room with Xerxes. With the eel by his side, he demanded that the rug take him to Agrabah's palace treasury, where the beginning of his victory awaited.

Upon arriving at his destination, the sun had set completely and he found that the treasury was dark and devoid of human presence. Mozenrath smiled again. Good. No one would be able to spot him. It would make everything much easier.

The carpet hovered near a closed window and the young wizard had to balance himself on the rug carefully as he inspected the lock, which, he found, was not that hard to break at all. In a way, Mozenrath was shocked to learn this. This was a palace! How was it that everything about it was so easy to penetrate? The engineers and architects who had designed the place had obviously not been expecting much in the way of intruders! That, or the designs were so old that no one had thought to update them in recent years.

Either way, how incredibly stupid.

With a gesture of his flesh hand, Mozenrath told Xerxes to give him the tiny wrench that the eel had been carrying in his mouth. The slimy creature nodded and spat out the tool for his master's use, and within a matter of seconds, the window was opened. The carpet glided through gracefully and descended to the floor.

Mozenrath stepped off of the rug, lit a small lantern that he had brought from the Citadel, and took in his surroundings. Piles upon piles of jewels, gold, and trinkets of the grandest value lay around him, but he, unlike a petty, ordinary thief, had no interest in any of it. He had but one object in mind.

"Chest! Chest! Chest!" Xerxes let out a quiet hiss as he spoke, pointing his fin toward the corner of the room. Mozenrath turned his head to where the eel was excitedly looking, and his eyes grew wide.

There it was, in plain sight: a wooden box, roughly the size of a loaf of bread, covered in intricate carvings and sitting on a clothed table. It was the same wooden box that had housed the gauntlet the last time.

Mozenrath nearly scoffed, mildly offended by this. He had thought upon his arrival that Aladdin might have made the taking of the gauntlet challenging for his enemy (or for anyone who tried to steal from the treasury, for that matter). However, that appeared not to be the case.

Yet.

The wizard took a few steps toward the table, cautiously, waiting for some absurd and magical trap made by the Jinni to emerge from nowhere. However, when nothing happened, Mozenrath quickened his pace. In a few seconds, he was standing in front of the chest, examining its lock for the second time.

And just like the previous time, the lock required no tools to undo. The clasp simply undid itself once Mozenrath had pushed it upward.

Hmm…

Mozenrath took another look around him, expecting something or someone to come barging in.

He waited a few moments, his flesh thumb and index finger on the lock. Beside him, Xerxes let out a long drool in anticipation.

Nothing. No footsteps, no voices, no lights suddenly shining from underneath the treasury doors to indicate that anyone was coming. All was quiet and dark, except for the light of Mozenrath's own lantern, which was illuminating the chest before him.

Finally, he nodded to himself and made his move.

He opened the lid of the chest, and his heart lept as he took in the sight of his treasured glove, plain and brown, lying inside. Without hesitation, he grabbed it and slid it over the bones of his right hand. Xerxes cackled in triumph and started flying around his master.

The glove began to glow. A feeling of euphoria, unlike any he had ever felt before, coursed through the young sorcerer's body as the gauntlet's power radiated throughout him.

He was back.


It was as if time had stopped, but the Earth's spinning speed had increased by a thousand percent. He was dizzy, his vision was growing dark, and every memory that he ever possessed was flashing in his mind.

He had forgotten where he was as he stood there near the window of his hovel, frozen, unable to move or make a sound. He was not even aware of Jasmine stroking his hair or of Cassim gently taking his hand in his own. They were trying to comfort him in the only ways they knew how for this magnitude of shock.

After what seemed like an eternity, a single word escaped Aladdin's lips in the same fashion as the word "what" had moments ago.

"No."

Again, the word was a mere whisper, a weak sound, barely audible to those around him. However, unlike the "what," it did not come out as a question, but, as a statement of denial, as the word often does.

"Aladdin…." His wife's soft, shaky uttering of his name finally brought him back into her plane of existence.

And as soon as he came back, he collapsed into the arms of the Princess of Agrabah and the former King of Thieves.

"No," the young man repeated. This time, the word was stronger, harsher, and firmer.

"No!" Finally, it came out as a shout.

"IT'S NOT TRUE!" He had found his voice for good and was going to use it to the best of his ability. "It—it—it—can't be true!"

Struggling out of the grasps of his wife and father, he slapped himself hard in the face and closed his eyes so that he could open them again. He had to wake himself up, because this was not true! It was a dream, a nightmare. That, or it was another one of Mirage's dark crystal illusions!

It had to be!

"Aladdin..." Jasmine repeated his name with more sadness than her husband had ever heard in her voice before.

He opened his eyes slowly to take in his surroundings, hoping against hope that he would be sitting up in bed, but his heart sank as he realized:

Neither was he dreaming nor was this any illusion brought on by the likes of the evil feline enchantress.

This was reality.

"Son…" Cassim had tears running down his face again, but now he was not making any move to wipe them away as he stared at Aladdin. "I'm so sorry."

The Prince took a deep breath and his stomach flipped as he staggered back toward the window of his hovel.

And for the second time that night, he vomited, this time out of the window and down onto the gravel alley below.

When he turned back toward the others, he noticed that Jasmine had tears on her face, too. Abu and Iago had their heads hung low, and Carpet was drooping with sadness. Cassim was now watching his son with concern, as though afraid that he might fall out of the window and to his death.

Aladdin swallowed hard and tried to clear his throat, which was now very parched.

"How…how did you find out that the Mozenrath we know was your son?" he managed to ask his father hoarsely.

Cassim sighed and walked toward his son, gently taking hold of the younger man's shoulders to steady him. "When he came running into the tavern, I thought nothing of him. His name didn't even register with me until after Iago had said it a second time. That was when I became curious. I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but I had to know… I had to get a good look at him…So I walked up to the counter and, when I saw his face…I knew." Aladdin saw his father's eyes glisten with the memory of his little son. "I knew he was my son. He was so haggard and pale, more than I could ever imagine him being, but he had my chin, and my nose, just as you do, Aladdin."

Aladdin's heart sank even further at his father's words.

Cassim's voice broke as he continued to speak. "And his curls…his eyes…even his lips!" He nodded as he remembered his older son. "They were your mother's."

Another long moment of silence passed before Aladdin embraced his father once more. Everyone else stood quietly, not wanting to interrupt the touching moment.

Until Abu let out a screech so loud that everyone in Agrabah could hear it.

Cassim and Aladdin broke apart, startled, and whipped their heads around. Aladdin's stomach dropped to the floor in horror at what he saw.

There, levitating themselves just above the threshold of the window, were Mozenrath and his flying eel Xerxes, surrounded by the glowing light of–Aladdin let out a gasp—the gauntlet!

Abu continued to screech, Iago began flying around in a panic, yelling about how they were all going to die, and Jasmine threw her arms around her husband, fearing that he might vanish at any moment.

But, Aladdin and Cassim remained still as Mozenrath eyed them both with a wicked smile on his handsome face.

"Well, well, well," Cassim's older son chuckled lightly. "Isn't this a pleasant surprise? A family reunion." His tone was light, smooth, and mockingly kind, as always. Then, his full lips became sarcastically pouty. "I'm sad it has to end."

Before Aladdin had a chance to react, however, the young wizard raised his gauntleted hand and blasted his brother with such power that the Prince flew back into the stone wall, causing the entirety of the old building to shake violently. Aladdin cried out in agony as he felt the bones in his left leg shatter.

But, Mozenrath wasn't finished with him. No. Without a word, he used his gauntlet's power to pick up his brother once more, as easily as though he were a rag doll, and threw him against the wall again. This time, Aladdin's ribs cracked and blood seeped through his shirt where his chest had made contact with the wall.

"Aladdin!" Jasmine screamed.

"Mozenrath! Stop it! Now!" Cassim shouted authoritatively. To Aladdin, it sounded as though he were trying to rebuke the young wizard for his actions in a fatherly manner, as if his older son were still a little boy. His younger son pitied him, for many years had passed, and whoever Mozenrath had been as a toddler, he no longer was.

Mozenrath himself apparently noticed his father's tone as well, because he let out a horrible laugh, while using his magic to draw the injured Aladdin to his chest. Any outsider would have thought that the older brother was cradling the younger as to show affection, or, even yet, to protect him.

How ironic!

"Do you really think I'm going to take orders from you, Dad?" the wizard asked. The last word was spoken with a great, dark malice. "Ha! No one tells me what to do!"

And with one movement of his cape that engulfed himself, Xerxes, and Aladdin, Mozenrath disappeared, leaving the others alone.

And hopeless.