The Small Print's Limitations

Chapter Four

As he watched the small group of four slowly ascend the stairs into the palace, Aladdin began to break out into a cold sweat – due to fear or excitement, he wasn't entirely sure. Or perhaps it was just out of being nervous; the woman he loved was finally returning home, and it took everything he had not to run down towards the stairs and hug her, desperate not to let her go.

But the fear of rejection stopped him from making a move, rejection that once upon a time, he might've believed could not exist, but after ten long years, he was unsure about, until he could bring her around.

Though in those ten years, absence had made the heart grow fonder.

Aladdin stared down at Jasmine as she climbed the stairs gracefully, every bit the Princess she used to be and every bit the Queen she now was, her head tilted towards Razoul's as he spoke to her in a voice Aladdin couldn't hear. Even from a distance, Jasmine still looked stunning, even if she walked with the slowness of one who appeared not to have slept in a long time. Her body was wrapped in a flowing blue dress, one that covered adequately but kept her skin cool against the heat at the same time, and she wore a matching scarf lightly around her dark hair, seemingly to stop anyone in the city guessing who she might be. But Aladdin could see straight through the disguise – there was only one woman in all of Agrabah who walked and moved and held herself with such poise, the only woman in all of Arabia for him.

In comparison, the two young people who followed her slowly up the stairs appeared as if they did not alone – exhausted and weary, Aziza and the younger Jafar followed their mother towards the palace, looking very uncomfortable in the heat after being raised in the cool temperatures of London. He couldn't make out the pair very well from this distance, but enough to see that they were bickering between themselves over something, and as Jasmine turned to speak to them, he and Razoul spotted each other.

While the expression on Razoul's face never changed, Aladdin watched carefully as the guard's large hand reached slowly towards his sword.

Jasmine was worth more to Aladdin than Razoul's warnings could ever be.

He took off through the palace, running towards the main room as fast as he could, hoping to have a moment alone with his Queen. Admittedly, he had no idea what he would say to her, or what he would do, other than hold her and never let go. There would be no fight for her affections this time, now that Jafar was out of the picture; he had successfully seen to that, and while the guilt of murdering his beloved's husband nipped at him occasionally at times like these, the hope he felt of finally being the one he loved, being able to look after her and help her through her pain, cancelled out any shame he felt.

So focused on finding his love, Aladdin didn't notice that she'd run past him in the palace corridor until it was too late. With her scarf wrapped around one slender hand, her hair flowing free, Jasmine didn't register him as she ran towards her father's rooms. Yes, she was Queen, and there were plenty of pressing matters for her to attend to (though, having never actually ruled herself, she barely knew where she would start), but before she did anything, seeing her father was the most important thing to her right now.

And therefore, Aladdin didn't try to chase her. The understanding that he felt for Jasmine only made his love for her grow stronger. There would be plenty of time to sit with her, to speak with her, to tell her that he still felt the same for her after all these years apart. And there would be plenty of time for her to respond in kind.

A small smile crossed his face as he dreamed about this, the first smile to dare cross his face in a long time.

"Aladdin!"

The smile was gone at the sound of Razoul's voice, and Aladdin turned around nervously. The head of the guards smirked dangerously at him, having realised that Jasmine would've run straight past him without caring, but if the boy wasn't going after the Queen and remaining in his place after all, then he could make himself useful. "I need to go back to the guards, someone needs to keep an eye on the Prince and Princess. Children, Aladdin will be dining with you this evening."

And with that, Razoul walked away, leaving Aladdin staring uncomfortably at an equally uncomfortable Princess Aziza and Prince Jafar.

And despite knowing that he wanted to care for them deeply, being Jasmine's children, there was something flickering in the children's faces that showed that they were Jafar's children as much as they were hers.

*

Apparently, the children had taken after Jafar in personality, also.

Aladdin sat between the very quiet pair during dinner, the children being in no way inclined to talk. Sixteen-year-old Aziza seemed to be lost in a world of her own, picking at her dinner with one leg pulled up in front of her body, letting her long, wavy dark hair tumble over her shoulders, and a matching side-swept fringe shielding her eyes. Ten-year-old Jafar – the name that made Aladdin cringe inwardly each time he thought of it, even if it was the sorcerer's innocent son – didn't seem as closed off as his sister appeared, but seemed to be picking at his dinner simply out of tiredness, and little else.

Aladdin cleared his throat nervously, causing the two to glance up at him. Unsure of what to say but desperate to break the awkward silence, he flickered his gaze up from his plate towards Aziza, and not for the first time did he find himself staring into the Princess' pretty face, the narrow, dark eyes staring up at him under her heavy black fringe. He felt his heart skip a beat as they stared at each other, even if her expression was completely disinterested, though he wasn't sure why he felt this way towards the girl he'd known as a baby (then again, Jafar had known Jasmine as a baby, having arrived at the palace the year she'd been born, and look what had happened there) – perhaps it was just because that in small ways, she resembled Jasmine, rather than him being attracted to Aziza herself. He could only hope that it was the former.

"So, no more 'Uncle Al', Aziza?" Aladdin questioned, his voice playful but cautious as he referenced to the name the Princess had called him as a child.

Aziza allowed a slight smile flicker at the corner of her lips. "You're not really our uncle, Aladdin," she said, brutal and straight to the point, with cold words that could have come out of her father's mouth, but with just enough tact to be her mother's daughter.

And the words cut deep, especially with the sheer difference between the young, sweet Aziza he'd known, and this older, colder Aziza that greeted him now. At one point, they'd been as thick as thieves, and now, she behaved like she barely knew him.

"Besides," she continued, unaware of the emotions running through Aladdin, "It's not as if we will be staying long."

"You know that's not true," the young Jafar quietly piped up from Aladdin's other side, the shy but confident side of the child coming out in his words. "Mother said that we weren't going back to London, that we're all staying here."

"You can stay," Aziza snapped, showing that her tiny level of patience had been inherited from her father as she shoved her chair back, not bothering to push it back in as she walked quickly out of the dining room.

Aladdin and Jafar watched her leave; Aladdin in stunned surprise at the girl's behaviour, but Jafar appeared to be used to this sort of behaviour. "What was that about?" Aladdin questioned.

"Frederick."

Aladdin looked at him for further explanation, and the boy shrugged lightly. "The son of friends' of Mother's in London. She really liked him, but then he married someone else... she's been acting like this since."

Jafar's words were like a dagger plunged into Aladdin's heart, at the idea of history repeating itself. If he had felt offended by Aziza's behaviour before, he could now only sympathise with her, with watching the one she loved marry someone else in front of her. "What did your mother say?" he asked, almost not wanting to ask the question, almost dreading the answer.

"That's that just how life is," the boy replied. "That there's nothing that Aziza can do about it, so she should accept it and move on, and that moving here is a chance to start again."

Exactly what Aladdin would guess Jasmine might say. Except saying to accept it and actually accepting it were completely different things. Jasmine had asked him to accept her marriage to Jafar only months after it had occurred; now, so many years on, Aladdin still wasn't sure that he could accept it – he just wanted a blank slate now to start again, and hoped that now enough time had passed since Jafar's death, that Jasmine would be ready to start again, too.

"Aladdin?"

Jafar's continuing voice snapped Aladdin out of his thoughts, and he looked back down at the boy, realising that while he had the same, unfortunate name of his father, there was nothing more of his father in him personality wise, even if he was a splitting image of a younger version of the old sorcerer. "Jafar?"

"Can you make my mother happy?" the boy asked unexpectedly, catching Aladdin off guard. "She's been depressed a lot lately, she's always crying, or looks like she's going to... can you make her happy again?"

It was a big call.

"I can try," Aladdin responded, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and giving him a quick squeeze of a hug. "All I can do is try."

*

"Father?"

Jasmine whispered into the dark bedroom of her father's, her voice uncertain and afraid, feeling very much like a little girl again. The light from a small oil lamp lit up the room dully, and from the doorway, Jasmine could see that the form of her father propped up against pillows, but little elsewhere.

Nervously, she stepped forward towards the bed, and the sight of her father made her heart break.

The Sultan slept a disturbed sleep, the sweat making his bald head shine, and his fever too high to keep his turban on. He appeared to have lost a lot of weight during his illness and gained dark circles under his eyes, his face gaunt – only a shadow of his former, cheery self.

As silently as she could, Jasmine sat on the edge of the bed, very carefully picking up the Sultan's papery hand, his wedding ring loose on his finger. She smiled sadly; her father had never removed his wedding ring after her mother's death, the same as she'd never removed her own after Jafar's death.

The feeling of skin contact made the Sultan's eyes flutter open wearily, and while he couldn't bring himself to gain the energy he needed to smile, just realising that his beautiful daughter was there brought him great comfort. "Jasmine..."

Jasmine's eyes lit up dimly at the sound of her father's voice, but she felt her lip wobble at the sight of him, trying to speak. "I'm here, Father," she whispered, squeezing his hand very lightly. "Do you need anything? Water?"

"No..." the Sultan croaked, then flickered his sight down to the pillows beside him, Jasmine following his gaze. "Lie down next to me."

Jasmine obeyed, never letting go of her father's hand, her watery eyes focused on his gentle face. It relieved her mind a little to see the faintest of smiles cross his lips to have her there, before he closed his eyes once more, collapsing back into sleep.

And despite seeing him in so much pain, knowing that the end was so near, Jasmine found herself to remain almost completely calm, in the absolute different reaction at Jafar's death, and she knew why – this time, she had the chance to say good bye.

TBC

A/N: Thank you to everyone who left reviews and sent me private messages for the last chapter; they are always appreciated, especially now since it had been so much time between chapters. And Panda-chan, your message made me laugh out loud, I don't think you could contain your excitement!

As always, enjoy (though it's getting a bit depressing) the story, readers, reviewers, and all the lurkers...