There are no words to describe the wonderment of an Arabian night. For as the sun sinks deep into the horizon, a supernatural world comes alive. Skies melt from purple to blood red in a smoothness quit slick. The blackness of night impenetrably thick. A mountainous stature of twinkling begins, each mystical light that of departed family and friends. Everything seems calm, tranquil and right, not a voice is heard this Arabian night. Except for the muffled hushed cry of a princess. Her slender curves hidden beneath raven tresses. The moon climbs above her spying down below as he counts every tear; well he, along with an evil vizier.
Extremities of desert heat were nothing compared to the freezing bitterness of night, and Jafar hated the cold. He had spent far too many hours in darkness as a boy, shivering half to death, curled up on a dirt packed floor alone. Now as he stood outside on the palace's substantial balcony, Jafar tightened his core refusing to let the chill keep him from viewing this award-winning moment.
Jafar threw his shoulders back in stiff submission, watching Jasmine in amusement as she cried against the steel palace gates. From this height the Vizier spotted a scrawny boy on the opposite side of the fence, mirroring Jasmine's actions as he leant against the entrance to the palace. Aladdin. The little fucker. Jafar gritted his teeth until they made a gut-wrenching sound, causing Iago to shudder as he perched atop his master.
The parrot had fled earlier that night after Abu, literally, was turned into an instrument. Having not known how far Jafar was willing to go, Iago hurried in terror, to avoid being next. Now he'd only come out of hiding when it seemed Jafar was back to normal – well, 'normal' for Jafar – but as his master scowled at Jasmine below, Iago worried he'd come back a little too soon. He opted to get Jafar's mind off the Princess.
"So… the Princess…" he rolled his eyes at himself having failed to change the subject at all.
"What about her?" Jafar's teeth glued together as he muttered.
"She's a handful—"
"Nothing I haven't already endured."
"Right… But she's not in charge anymore, you are…. yet… she's still making demands of you…" Iago hesitated.
"I can handle a little girl, Iago." Dark eyes locked onto Jasmine as he spoke and Iago feared his master wasn't grasping the gravity of the situation.
"Right, just… She told you to spare Aladdin, and there he is. Just like she wanted. Alive…"
"What are you implying, bird," he growled unimpressed with Iago's power of perception.
"Nothing… Just wondering if now would be a good time to carry through with our original plan of domination?"
Jafar inhaled deeply through his nostrils turning back inside the throne room.
"I'm only suggesting a cliff to quicker rid us of this problem. Well, both problems." Iago motioned with his beak to Jasmine.
"No, Iago." Jafar snapped, then rolled his neck in composure. "It would be foolish to kill our only means to win over Agrabah. Besides, genuinely wedding the shrew has more merit than you comprehend; though I don't expect your tiny mind to fathom basic concepts."
Iago moved past the slight with a wince. "Well then, what about him?" Iago squawked half disappointed Jafar was going back on their original plans, "He deserves to plummet to his death. Think of all the horrible biscuits he shoved in my mouth. Blah. Disgusting! You've had your fun Jafar, now let me have mine!"
Jafar drawled irritated, "Calm yourself Iago… the halfwit is of more use to us alive."
"Are you serious!? Jafar, look at him: eyes droopy, mouth drooling, old age has eaten away his mind! The Sultan's even madder than you."
Jafar bent forward, dark eyes leveling with distant grey ones, and smiled devilishly.
"Nonsense, Iago," Jafar searched the familiar round face, "He's still in there… aren't you, my old friend?"
With sparked interest, Iago landed on the arms of the throne and leaned closer towards the two men. Jafar spoke in such a notorious way Iago squirmed.
"Tell me, your highness, how did it feel to watch your precious daughter groveling at my feet? Begging me like a dog begs for scraps. Obviously, she inherits your weakness." The last word left his mouth with an exaggerated hissing sound.
Over several days Jafar had been slowly slipping poison into Hamed's drinks. Its effects had only taken place the night before and Hamed could hardly move let alone speak anymore. Stubby fingers had lost their ability to move, his mouth frozen agape and mind in a comatose state; but those lost dreary eyes were the worst. To gaze into them was like being swallowed by your own nightmares: the suffocation of being buried alive as soil clogged your throat. Their brown color glossed over with murky grey fog. Such a dead stare disturbed Iago.
Jafar remained, however, rooted and unfazed.
"But that fire…" Jafar moaned deep in the back of his throat closing his eyes as if tasting something sweet before opening them again, "Now that she gets from her mother."
For the first time all night the Sultan's eyes darted knowingly to his traitorous Vizier; Iago gave a shriek in surprise, his own gaze widened, darting back and forth from Jafar to the suddenly alert Sultan.
Jafar sneered adding, "But Jasmine is far more beautiful than the Sultana was," and leaned in close. "I wonder if Jasmine exceeds her mother in other ways, as well. I'll find out soon enough if our Princess Jasmine tastes creamier, feels more decadent, than Sahara did..."
"Aghh!" A blob of white lunged forward, the Sultan using all his might to attack his offender, but Jafar swiftly stood to full height as he dodged the assault. Hamed met dead air and smacked his face hard into the marbled floor; pride smarting worse than the impact.
Without warning two robust guards barged into the throne room and restrained the elderly man. As one pinned Hamed's stubby arms and legs the other brutally pried open his mouth. Iago, perched once more at Jafar's shoulders and watched as three drops of dark fluid leaked from a glass vile into the Sultan's throat. Within seconds a docile state took over, seducing the former sultan into oblivion once more. Knowing already what was expected, each guard carried Hamed into the hallway and out of sight.
Blue and red feathers ruffled as Iago shivered at this newfound level of intimidation. He had wanted to kill the Sultan in a free fall. Splattering Hamed seemed, at the time, utterly evil. However, after seeing the torture Hamed was enduring Iago knew an abrupt death would have been far less cruel.
That very next day Jafar had plunged into piles of paperwork. Sifting through scrolls, laws, records, trading agreements, a list of goods and taxes. He'd been so consumed in updating himself with Agrabah's issues Jafar remained locked away in his studies since breakfast. Having skipped lunch in the process Jafar needed to replenish himself to be of any value. He still had finances to go through, not to mention the letters of threats of war, marriage proposals to Jasmine, and complaints of the citizens of Agrabah; over three hundred people had requested confrontation with Hamed over their disputes, this month alone. And all had gone unanswered.
Jafar should've rid himself of Hamed years ago, perhaps then there would be less crap for him to deal with now. Then he could've enjoyed his first day as ruler, with less shit ruining this glorious moment of power. Still, Jafar worked a few hours longer, the sun dipping back behind the far-off mountains. Only when a bald servant announced supper was ready, did Jafar break away from his task. With a wave of his hand he sent the man away, the servant bowing deeply as he backed away, and Jafar forced himself away from his desk and headed to the dining hall.
Several tall candlesticks decorated the massive hand carved table in a row of six, each space between them decorated with sizzling decadent foods: vegetables, lamb, bread, hummus, poultry, all doused in spices and herbs. Four Servants waited wordlessly on either side of the room, heads bowed and hands folded in front of their laps whilst two guards stood facing outwardly of the dining room; everyone appeared to avoid any eye contact with their new ruler. Which would normally make Jafar gloat with pride. But tonight, he recognized the help's awkward stiffness wasn't just because their fear of his power: They were hiding something.
Jasmine still hadn't shown up for dinner, and the food hardened against the silver. Jafar lined the brim of his wine glass staring aimlessly at her empty chair. His aggravation sprouted rapidly with each passing minute. A wickedly delicious thought ran through his mind; her young, beautiful body slammed against the table while he fucked her from behind. Her nails would dig deep into the mahogany as she tried to steady herself against the violent pounding of his cock. It would be a taste of the punishment to follow if ever she kept him waiting again. Jafar could feel himself harden as he imagined her before him, wet, helpless, and in pain. Flicking a hot tongue over his lips the Acting Sultan adjusted in his seat, the swell of his penis growing uncomfortably large. He wanted her now. Whatever scandalous act she was committing behind his back, he would find out. And if he found her with that street rat, he would bleed her dry and hang her corpse outside the palace walls as a warning to all of Agrabah.
Razoul stepped forward once the Acting Sultan had summoned him. Jafar drank of his red wine eyeing the robust man over the edge of his glass. The guard puffed out his brawny chest then bowed staring at the floor as he spoke, "Most worthy Sultan, how may I be of service."
Jafar rolled his eyes, knowing all too well how fake Razoul's courtesies were. He'd played the false servant for too many years to know Razoul despised him. He prefered it as such anyway. Jafar commanded Razoul rise; it wasn't satisfying to threaten a man without looking him straight in the eyes. That was where the soul opened and spilled every dirty secret.
Taking note, Razoul noticed how fitted Jafar was to be a malevolent ruler. From the way, he carried himself, owning his surroundings, to the way he drank wine like he was sucking blood from an infant; everything concerning Jafar screamed inhumanity. And Razoul desperately wanted to look away from the maniac, afraid the vizier would steal his soul.
"Where is she?"
"She your majesty?" Razoul played dumb and Jafar's mouth twitched in irritation.
"Don't play coy with me, fool. I know she's avoiding me, and I want to know where she's gone off to."
"She—ah." Razoul showed large teeth and raised a finger to the air as if just now catching on, "Princess Jasmine?" Razoul nodded his head and smiled pleasantly, still dodging the Vizier's question even as Jafar's features turned vicious.
"And?" His lips clamped together, eyes flashing threats of annihilation.
A long moment of silence passed, Razoul looking dumfounded. "I apologize your majesty, but I'm afraid I have forgotten the question."
Jafar nodded his head once, the thickness of his brows rising as if understanding, and pushed himself up from the table, took his scepter in hand, and walked smoothly towards the captain of the guard. Razoul clenched his teeth to keep them from rattling; he would stall for as long as he could, for the Princess, but if push came to shove, he might not keep up his pretense.
"Razoul you are, somewhat, of an intelligent man. Head of the Royal Guard, a faithful servant, a man with a healthy sense of preservation." The space lessened between the two, Jafar's exceptional sadistic ability present in the way he carried himself—ruthless and frightening. "Am I supposed to believe a simple girl has duped you into playing one of her little games?"
Razoul thought punching Jafar in the face would be a practical option, then recanted the notion, knowing he wouldn't survive to brag about such a minute victory. Still, it would feel impeccable to get just one slug in.
The ruby eyes of the snake staff glowed brightly, Jafar raising the scepter thoughtfully to the side of Razoul's face. No matter his massive size in strength, the guard whimpered like a child, closing his eyes at the feel of the cold hard metal.
"Now tell me where she is. Or I'll turn you into the rodent you are and allow the hawks a taste."
To execute her plan in good timing, Jasmine waited until the light of day turned into a blood red wave signaling the beginning of nightfall. Razoul promised Jasmine he'd occupy Jafar long as possible, hopefully enough time for her to get in and out. Now anxiously she waited behind a pillar, watching the glow of light from Jafar's study. Why hadn't he left for dinner? If Jafar skipped it altogether, as with lunch, then who knew when her next opportunity would arise. She rubbed the lower muscles in her back, feeling the ache from crouching in an awkward position for so long, and wondered if she should give up and try again tomorrow night.
Then, a servant scooted across the grandeur hall, his grey woolen thobe swishing as he walked, his hands covered by long bellowing sleeves, and his waist pulled together by a brown sash. The servant from lunch. He had worked in the palace for several years, but she paid no attention to him before. None of the servants to be exact. She never saw their faces, never learned their names—if servants even had names—and Jasmine felt a pang of slight guilt. Maybe she had taken everyone for granted, always assuming she was all that mattered. Jasmine winced at her own vanity.
As the bald-headed man led her intended away from his study and to the dining hall, Jasmine sighed relieved, and made a mental note to learn the names of the people working in the palace.
Through the opium din, follow straight back to the center of the farthest wall. There is a secret passageway that will lead you into Jafar's secret tower.
Dashing through the opium din, musky incense welcomed her as did the memory of the last time she'd been here:
She had been furious with her father's vizier, temper blazing and heart pounding violently. She was ready to rip him a new one for arresting the boy from the marketplace. Jafar mocked her anger, bowing deeply as he spread out his cape behind him.
"The guards just took a boy from the marketplace, on your orders." Her mouth had nearly touched his long mysterious neck as she raised on her toes to assert her authority. The thought of kissing him beneath that cloth distracted her for a moment.
"Why, your father has charged me with keeping peace in Agrabah, and the boy was a criminal."
Jasmine shivered at the recollection of how Jafar had tricked her into believing Aladdin was executed. That stunt should have gotten him beheaded. Her gold slippers hurried to where Razoul had instructed, feeling along the smooth crimson wall for a button, or a lever of any kind, but to no avail.
Every nerve in her being was on edge realizing that time was slipping quickly from her. The longer she took, the more likely Jafar would find her sneaking around, and she shuddered to think of what punishment he might have in store for her. She let a disgruntled groan escape as she turned her head upwards, her hands resting impatiently on her hips. Then she saw it. A gilded lantern dangled just above her head, its elongated tassel delicate, and she smiled mischievously as she raised on the tips of her toes and pulled down on the fringe, hard.
A hidden door slid swiftly with a whoosh, revealing a passageway of winding stairs. Sparkling teeth shone widely against the poorly lit room; a sense of pride and accomplishment pulling at the corners of her mouth as Jasmine stepped forward, cautiously. Landing on the first step triggered the door to whizz shut behind her, everything engulfed by thick blackness. Her ascent was done blindly as she wound up the stairwell with hands as her eyes. She smoothed the rough stones with the flat of her palm, tripping over her feet now and again until she smacked flat against an impenetrable door. Jasmine cursed, fumbling for the handle and entered the secret room.
With light emanating from a few small torches Jasmine could hardly make out her surroundings. She squinted against harsh shadows as she analyzed the organized tower. There was a large bookcase embedded into a curved wall, a singular high-backed chair, several filled vials stacked neatly on what might be an apothecary desk, scrolls rolled up and stacked neatly away. And in the center of the room was a four-foot spiraled pedestal which held an intricate hourglass; not dissimilar to the one from that fateful night when the sands nearly drowned her. Jasmine cringed at the reminder.
She walked forward, hands outstretched to feel her way around as she made sure not bump into anything. Then as promised, her hand fell through an opening along the stone walls; a passageway that was skillfully hidden beneath dark cloth, and Jasmine parted it to reveal yet another staircase. This time it led straight up instead of curving around. Her heart skipped a beat, the promise of hope almost knocking her off her feet. If he wasn't up there then Razoul was mistaken and her Baba actually was disposed of. Here was to hoping. She quickened her pace without a moment to lose and landed atop the stairs into a smaller alcove.
"Baba!" Jasmine fell alongside a small bed, squeezing Sultan Hamed's plump cold fingers. His skin was like ice, ashen to her touch, and she wondered for a moment if he actually was dead. "Baba, it's me. I'm here now, don't be afraid. I won't ever let him hurt you again. I promise to never leave your side, Baba! Just hang on a little longer."
Jasmine looked around for something to help her hoist her Baba and carry him down the massive sets of stairs, but found nothing beside a small table, and the bed in which her father lay. Trying to keep the worry from her voice Jasmine spoke gently, rubbing the back of her Baba's wrinkled hand.
"It's okay, I'll get you out of here. We'll get out, I promise."
She stood to her feet, showering Hamed's hand with little kisses, promising to keep him safe and bring him back to his own bed chambers where they could hide away from Jafar. But she stopped. A familiar biting voice came from behind.
"Curiosity killed the cat, Princess."
Jasmine spun around on her heel, dropping her father's unresponsive hand. Jafar shook a finger side to side.
"What a naughty pussycat you are."
"Jafar! I –I…"
"Don't belong in here."
"I've only come for my father."
Jafar's face darkened as the flickering candlelight sharpened the angles of his nose and mouth. He was truly sinister. "You are trespassing."
"Ha," Her frightful demeanor changed to one of defiance as her bottom jaw jutted forward. "This is my palace. If anyone has trespassed it's—"
"Agrabah was my dwelling place long before your mother spawned you, little beast. This palace my home since before you were sucking at her tit!"
"Don't…" she bit her lip when it trembled, "Do not talk about my mother. Never speak of her again! You're far too unworthy to—"
"What a stupid girl you are." Jafar mocked. "Do you not know I have spoken Sahara's name a hundred times over? And a thousand and one times she had screamed mine." Oh, the pain on Jasmine's face was priceless.
"Liar… You're sick!" Both stepped closer to the other, the cobra and mongoose sizing up as they strategized their attacks.
"Am I, little mouse?" Jafar had a way of remaining coolheaded when he knew he was winning.
Little mouse? That felt like a strange downgrade from an already demeaning pet name. She was more than a timid little mouse, and she'd prove it to him.
"Ah, Princess, don't look so dismayed. It wasn't Sahara's fault the Sultan was too childish and fat to satisfy her needs. No one can blame the Sultana for coming to her husband's Vizier, night after night. Dripping wet between her legs, begging for me to taste her. To have a real man to slide inside her—"
*WHACK*
Before she could think, she reacted. The flat of her palm sounded like a whip cracking as she smacked Jafar clean across his face. His composure remained in control, but he couldn't deny the stinging burn against his skin.
There's that fire! Jafar sneered, soaking up how enjoyable her fury was. He adjusted his jaw with a mighty hand. He could end her now. Chain her to the stones and fuck her until she bled to death as her father watched. It was nothing less than what the little beast deserved.
Jasmine's entire body quivered, especially the pit of her stomach, as she beheld the man she would soon have to marry. He looked like he might kill her, and she braced herself for impact, but nothing came, his expression returning to stone cold nothingness.
"Be grateful I have allowed your father any shred of mercy—keeping him alive in such a pathetic condition." His stone chest pressed against her soft breasts as he pinned her to the wall with his warm body. Sharp fingers gripped Jasmine's chin as he forced her to meet him.
"If you wish your father to remain healthy, I suggest you change your disposition towards me, or the old fool will spend his last pitiful moments chained in the dungeons!"
Crystal tears paraded over her flushed cheeks, her bottom lip pursed and quivering. She didn't care what she looked like anymore, how ugly her tears made her appear. She hated this. Hated him. For the first time, Jasmine needed to accept she was powerless. That no one was safe because of her, and she couldn't protect the people she loved. She smacked away his grip on her face, and pushed on his chest with all her strength, which was minuscule compared to Jafar's. Jafar allowed her to pass as Jasmine ran blurry eyed down two sets of stairs, through the echoing corridors and out into the palace gardens.
"You know I can't make that promise -" Aladdin said mournfully.
Crickets chirped inside the cracks of the palace wall.
His ribs were more than likely broken along with his nose and possibly his collar bone. He knew his eyes must be blood shot having suffocated half to death, and his head felt like it was ready to explode. Such incessant crying was the last thing Aladdin could handle. Why must she be so selfish? Sobbing uncontrollably over their failed relationship while Jafar beat Aladdin half to death and would probably die by the end of the week. Didn't she care about anyone besides herself…
The cold gate soothed his aching temple as he leaned forward pressing into it, tired. What more was there to do. He made his wishes. He lost his djinn and the palace. Jasmine was gorgeous and amazing in every way, and he loved her. But he lost her too. To think otherwise, was, well… childish. And he wasn't sure he would survive another duel with her crazy vizier.
"You say that, but you don't mean it." The princess broke their silence, and Aladdin hesitated to speak. Too exhausted to do so.
"Aladdin, I know you love me. And you know how much I love you… I will wait for you, for as long as it takes for us to be together again. All I am asking is that you to do the same. Promise me this isn't over. That you have faith in our love, faith to hold on despite the evil against us."
He breathed lightly, each movement crushing against his gut, "It seems the entire universe is against us, Jasmine."
He could hear more sobbing followed by broken sniffles. It hurt to hear her crying because of him. Almost as bad as the pain in his face. He wanted to promise her sweet nothings, kiss her beautiful face and tell her it would all work out. Everything would be all right and he could wait for her forever.
He loved her, didn't he? Jasmine was the first to treat Aladdin like a human being instead of a slimy rat. Prince or no, Jasmine belonged with him, and no one, no matter how psychotic, would impede that. But before he could confess any of this Aladdin was pulled away by a palace guard.
For the second night in a row, Jasmine was sitting on the ground, legs drawn up to greet her forehead as it rested upon her knees. Princess Jasmine reminisced the last conversation between her and the only man she loved. It seemed all she could do lately was fall into uncontrollable sobs. Last night she wanted to be strong. Thought she could assume the role of protector and powerful queen in a battle of good versus evil. Normally she would have won. Would have thrusts her authority in Jafar's face, called him a filthy dirt bag and walked away unharmed and unafraid. But he had stopped playing by the rules. He held all the cards now and only he knew how to win the game.
If only Aladdin were here. He would know what to do. If only he had promised to never give up she would have the strength to carry on. Red watery eyes lifted from the crook of her safe haven, watching now the great fruit tree in front of her. The same tree she had climbed earlier that week so she could sneak out of her condemned palace life.
Then something caught her attention. A yellow piece of paper flapping in the night breeze as it stuck its head out from the palace wall. Jasmine scanned the yard praying that no prying eyes were watching her from around the corner; or from atop secret tower windows, and slid to her left, back pressing against the gritty wall.
Parchment made from goatskin had been shoved from the opposite side of the wall through a rather large crack. Jasmine slid it from its cubby with anxious hands. One word is all Jasmine needed to send her heart soaring. The back of her soft hand wiped away old tears. Then Jasmine turned, carefully holding the note, and bounded back inside the palace.
Was there a time limit when it came to love? Could distance, obstacles, or powers of earth separate two people who belonged together? Absolutely not. Jasmine had asked Aladdin to wait for her. Told him there would be a way to be together so long as they both believed it. And as the Princess slipped into her bed chambers, combed out her hair, and pulled on her nightgown, she knew without a shadow of a doubt, that Aladdin loved her as much as she loved him, and now they had their own secret way of communicating. A soft scrunching noise came, Jasmine clinging to the tiny scroll like it was her lifeline.
'Yes.' Was all it said.
That was all the affirmation Jasmine needed to sleep peacefully with new hopes and dreams. She would be together with Aladdin again someday, and they would defeat Jafar and take back the kingdom.
