The Small Print's Limitations
Chapter Seven
To say that Aladdin was surprised by Jafar's appearance was an understatement.
Aladdin was certain that he had killed the sorcerer, years ago. He was sure of it; he had brought the lethal potion, he had watched Jafar drink it unknowingly, Jafar's deceased body had been found in his tower. Even if there was some way that the potion hadn't worked the way it should have, and had only put the sorcerer into a coma of some kind, he should've either died, or have come back by now. And everyone would've known.
But this, Jafar suddenly returning from the dead, was just confusing. This had to be some sort of bad dream – Aladdin had been waiting for Jasmine to appear, to welcome her home, to tell her how much he'd missed her and that he could be by her side. He hadn't wanted to come on too strongly, considering it would be her first day arriving back in Agrabah, but he hoped that he would be relatively high on Jasmine's list, for surely she had missed him as much as he had her.
Jafar was the last person he'd have expected to come out of Jasmine's bedroom. In an ideal state of mind, this did make logical sense – the pair being married, and having shared the bedroom, after all.
But in this ideal state, Jafar was also supposed to be dead.
Jafar shut the bedroom door and learnt against it easily, studying the street rat with a smirk on his lips, as Aladdin tried to gather his wits about him, and it was several moments before the common Agrabah man could look the sorcerer in the eye. "What are you doing here?" Aladdin demanded, his voice sharp, one of accusation.
The sorcerer raised an eyebrow in faint amusement. "I should be asking you that, street boy," Jafar sneered softly, taking calculated steps towards Aladdin, who began to back up against the wall. "Does this mean you have been lurking around the palace this entire time?"
"I am a guest of the royal family," Aladdin remarked, bravely pointing at Jafar with a slightly shaking hand, in a step of defiance.
Jafar reached out and with strength that Aladdin was sure he had not held before his death, snapped his finger.
"It is now my family, and you are no guest of mine," Jafar snapped, ignoring the huddled man at his feet. Aladdin clutched his hand to his chest, and glared up at the sorcerer, pure hate in his eyes, fearing for himself as well as for Jasmine and the children, being within the sadist's grip, and the pain in his heart of knowing that he'd imagined himself with Jasmine had only lasted several hours before it had come crashing down, won out over the pain in his hand. "Get up," the older man muttered, aware that they were out in the open in the palace, "and stop making a pathetic scene of yourself. We will talk in private."
Aladdin watched him walk away, Jafar's cloak brushing over his bowed head, unable to trust himself to get to his feet. "Move it," he heard Jafar hiss, "unless you'd like to have Jasmine find you like this."
Aladdin quickly followed him into a room opposite the bedroom, a disused meeting room.
It was an action he regretted immediately, as he felt himself lifted off his feet, surrounded by a strange red light, and flung with imaginary force to the far wall, where he collapsed on the floor. Through the throbbing of his head and disorientation, he struggled to make out the sorcerer, walking towards him, satisfied with his damaged prey, his steps slow and smooth as a panther's. Aladdin's eyes didn't move as he felt Jafar's fingers burrow into his hair and yank him up into a sitting position painfully, blood pouring out of his mouth and down his chin.
"Now, I don't care as to why you killed me," Jafar whispered dangerously, crouching down to Aladdin's height, his expression deadly calm. "I'm sure that there are multiple reasons, as I have to kill you right now. But I'm not going to, at least for the time being."
Despite the pain searing in his body, Aladdin felt a small sense of relief, and closed his eyes heavily. For the time being, he was safe, he could recuperate, he could tell Jasmine the truth about the demented husband of hers, he could get her and the children out of her safely and alive.
"And besides, killing you would be too easy."
The relief Aladdin felt quickly begun to fade with those words, as he watched Jafar rise back up to his feet, stretching his tall figure in a relaxed fashion, before turning a cheshire cat grin on the boy. "No, I'm sure there are some people who would dearly like to know the truth about my death. Like the citizens of Agrabah. Like the occupants of this palace. Like my children... like my wife." Jafar's grin had faded as he spoke, his voice returning to a hissed whisper, his expression settling into that of any man attempting to protect his family.
And his expression froze as they heard soft footsteps outside the door, echoing on the marble floor.
"Jafar?" they heard Jasmine call, her voice enquiring. There was the soft sound of the bedroom door sweeping open, and moments later, shutting gently again. "Jafar? Where are you?"
Aladdin took breath to yell, as hoarsely as he could, only for the pain to intensify as he felt Jafar's foot shoved against his mouth, pushing him back into silence, choking quietly on the dust on the bottom of his shoe. After a moment, they heard Jasmine sigh in frustration, before quick footsteps walking away, her voice calling the sorcerer's name grow fainter until they couldn't hear her anymore.
Jafar carefully removed his foot from against Aladdin's mouth, and stared down at the boy with deadly calm, still crumpled on the floor. "You have a month in which to tell her; the children and the others will find out in their own good time once she knows. I will kill you either way, of course, but this punishment seems so much more fitting first."
With that, Aladdin watched as his enemy walked away, quietly opening the door and moving out of sight, shutting the door firmly behind him. The pain of admitting to his beloved that he'd killed someone didn't yet get the chance to sink in, before darkness took over.
*
In the fading sunlight of what had felt to be an abnormally long day, Jafar, standing on a balcony watching his city, was a lone silhouette.
His cloak flapped lightly in the breeze behind him, his hands were calm and relaxed on the rail. The meeting with his children couldn't have gone better – him and Jasmine had decided it best to be upfront in regards to his return; Aziza, being a future sorceress herself, would understand. He'd had both children stare at him strangely when he had first walked into the room, but the spell was broken as Aziza had rushed towards him; despite the heartache she'd felt arriving in Agrabah, she was excited to see her father once again, in the flesh now, and not just a mirage to help her put out the fires that she'd started. The pair had regarded each other at arms' length, neither one to embrace, but Jafar was silently pleased to see that his young daughter had grown to be a stunning young woman, equally as beautiful as her mother.
The younger Jafar was more hesitant to greet his father, which was only understandable as the pair had never actually met, but as his son stared up at the imposing man in wonder, Jafar was blown away as to how much the boy resembled him at the same age. The pair didn't speak to one another, but the boy had followed his father around the palace in interest for the majority of the day, until only minutes ago, when Jafar had advised gently for him to join his mother, as he had a meeting to attend to. There would be plenty of time to get to know his boy, but Jafar was impressed with him so far.
The clear of a throat behind the sorcerer announced whom he wished to speak, and when Jafar nodded his head slightly in acknowledgement, he heard the heavy footsteps behind him.
"It is good to have you home, Jafar. And the Queen, as well."
"Thank you, Razoul," he replied sincerely, as Razoul came to a stop next to him, resting his large arms on the rail.
The head of the guards was the only one Jafar trusted in the palace to give a review of all that had happened in Agrabah over the past ten years; he was the only one whom he knew closely that had been there for that length of time. The only other person who knew being Aladdin, and with a faint sneer on his face, Jafar hoped that the boy was currently not in a position to tell him news, even if he'd requested him to do so.
For a few minutes, the men made small chit-chat, briefly covering what had happened in the city, before Jafar approached the subject that had been bothering him as he'd studied the rooftops of Agrabah, alone. "Razoul, what has happened?" he questioned, his tone curious. "There used to be people crowding the streets, now there's hardly anyone."
Razoul swallowed tightly, briefly wondering how to respond to his leader. "Do you remember that certain people had to go missing after Aziza's birth?" he asked, his voice quiet.
"Of course."
"Well... if we put these people away now, those who had complained, there would be no citizens left in Agrabah. At all."
Jafar turned his gaze sharply on the guard, and Razoul stepped away slightly, hearing the growl in the sorcerer's throat. "What are they saying about my daughter?" he asked, his tone now dangerously low.
Razoul sighed. "It's not about her, exactly... the women of the city are being, if you call, punished, for another princess being born. And it's not just here; it's beginning to spread through Arabia."
Jafar frowned. This was quite strange news, with the citizens gaining an attitude that he wouldn't have expected from them. "How is it their fault? There has been a son born since then."
"The prince's birth doesn't change matters."
There was quiet for several minutes, as Razoul wondered how to explain further, and as Jafar struggled to comprehend the idea of an entire city being seemingly punished for no good reason. Finally, Razoul sighed once more, and leant closer to the taller man, his voice dropping, in case anyone dared to interrupt by walking out onto the balcony. "The women don't come out much now from their homes; their husbands and sons are keeping them locked inside for their own protection. I do not allow my wives or daughters to... I advise them to stay off the streets, for safety. I highly suggest you keep your own behind the palace walls, also."
"I will decide what is best for Jasmine and Aziza," Jafar drawled lightly, and Razoul bowed his head in acknowledgement, but glanced out of the corner of his eye as the sorcerer's hand clenched on the rail. "This is ridiculous; what is their reasoning?"
"Our faith."
"I wasn't aware that the Qur'an advised us to keep women locked inside their houses like animals," Jafar remarked, his voice dangerous, and he turned to face the guard, his expression unreadable, but making Razoul feel like he was being studied, with Jafar wondering what his actions were personally.
Razoul broke the gaze, uncomfortable. "I find it difficult to argue with their reasoning."
"Clearly."
"But it's for the right reasons. It's best to keep them safe. I would also suggest having the Queen and Princess staying away from the Sultan's funeral tomorrow; you know how women can react... irrationally at funerals, but of course, I leave that decision to you." And with that, Razoul walked away.
Jafar remained standing on the balcony on his own once more, for a short time, twirling his beard around his fingers. It was only when he heard Jasmine call for him faintly, inside the palace, that he turned and walked inside, lost in thought and consideration.
TBC
A/N: Mad Madame, I think the person you're thinking of as 'someone else' for Aziza might be right...
