A/N: Hello, everyone! Again, I'm sorry for the slow updates. This story WILL be finished. I absolutely refuse to leave it uncompleted. We're not even half way through yet, so I hope you stick around and keep reading. As always, reviews are needed and appreciated. :)

Chapter 11

A dead stillness permeated Jasmine's bedroom the moment Mozenrath left it. It crept under her skin, beneath the thin layer of sweat building from an already hot summer day, and into the core of her being, where her unborn child slept in her belly. She and Aladdin had been on many missions, saved many lives, but never before had she had a more important duty to fulfill – the survival of her city, the lives of her friends, and the life of her unborn child all hung on the decisions she would make in the next 24 hours.

High noon was approaching, and the sun's light blazed through the opening of the large balcony in her room, warming Jasmine's back as she sat facing away from it on the edge of her bed. A long dark shadow of her slender frame stretched across the marble floor before her, a black reflection with no face. If it had been an ordinary morning, before her father died and they had plunged headfirst into disaster, she and Aladdin would still have been lounging lazily in bed at this time. Back then, they didn't have to worry about politics or what it meant to rule. They could make love all morning and talk about places they wanted to go, things they wanted to see. The possibilities were endless, the world vast and largely unexplored. Yet in an instant her reach had been reduced from limitless to the space of her own home, which in reality was hardly hers to claim anymore, though she would never have admitted it to anyone but herself.

The worst part was that there were so many unanswered questions. What on earth made Mozenrath and Mirage team up in the first place? How had Mozenrath become so powerful in the last few years? In the past, the concept of surrendering Agrabah to him would have been laughable to Jasmine. But now, in the short span of time in which she had gone from princess bride to queen, he had grown powerful enough to actually beat her. For now at least, she would have to surrender herself and her kingdom if she and her unborn child had any hope of surviving. There was little chance that Aladdin was still alive, and even if he was, she didn't have the resources to bide her time until he returned. The destruction of everything she knew and loved was literally right outside her door, and there was nothing she could do about it.

So she would submit, at least outwardly. She would appear to give up, do whatever Mozenrath asked that was within reason. She would be the quiet, submissive woman her culture had been trying to turn her into for years. And she would wait. Watch, listen, and wait. Hope that a way out revealed itself to her. There was nothing else to be done.

Jasmine had never given up on anything in her life. If she was going to be forced to give in now, in this the greatest crisis of her life, she would go down with dignity. She would go down as a queen should. Calmer now and resolute in her decision, she stood up, noticing immediately that her light silk robes felt strangely heavy on her tiny frame. She removed her thin blue overcoat, peeling it off her arms in the places where sweat had made the fabric cling to her. She then removed the clothes she had worn to bed the night before – a thin midriff baring top and harem pants that sparkled in a shimmery blue color in the sunlight.

Naked, she made her way to the large full length mirror near her bed. She looked exhausted – dark circles aged her youthful eyes and made them appear to sink into her skull. They were red from crying and lack of sleep. Her hair hung stringy and lifeless around her, tangled from tossing and turning. She was too depressed to care much for her own vanity, but she felt a sudden twinge of embarrassment at the thought that Mozenrath had seen her like this. She vowed silently that she would never let him see her in this vulnerable state again.

Normally by this time, maidservants would be crowding the large bedroom helping Jasmine get dressed. It was unnecessary, but so commonplace there seemed no point in questioning it. Today, the palace was completely silent. She could hear no gossiping servants outside, no brooms sweeping the marble floors. They were all hiding somewhere, whispering in corners trying to understand what had happened. And since the sultan had disappeared, no one had dared to bother his wife. And she preferred it that way. There were too many questions to answer, too many things that still needed to be done, and she did not have the time or the will to appease the fears of some shaking servant when she was terrified herself.

So, for the first time in several months, she walked over to her closet, far off on the other side of the room, and began to dress herself. By now, she had had enough of Mozenrath's shameless ogling, so she chose a pink satin dress that covered her up without making her look matronly. As she smoothed out the creases, her hand grazed gently over her stomach. She absently wondered how long it would take before she started to show – having never carried a child to term, the midwives had never had a chance to explain to her the details of what carrying a child entailed. Soon everyone would know of her condition…but she could not think of it now. She had tried for days, but she could not bring herself to be either happy or sad about her pregnancy. It was an inconvenience, a shock, a bargaining tool. And in thinking of all this she could not get back to the blissful, happy feeling of being a first time mother pregnant by a man that she loved. The feeling had been drowned out by the horrific circumstances in which the conception and discovery of the pregnancy had occurred.

When she finished dressing, she headed back into the center of her bedroom, the birdcage-like space where she kept hairpieces and jewelry. She wore her usual gold earrings, and a matching gold necklace with turquoise stones. She gave her lips a hint of red pigment to give her face color, but avoided the kohl that she almost always used on her eyes for fear it would make her look more tired. Lastly, she went through the laborious process of brushing and untangling her long black hair. When she finished, she pulled it back into a sophisticated ponytail, and placed a small gold tiara on her head.

In this moment, Jasmine was able to detach completely from herself. She was no longer a wife, a lover, or a friend. She was simply the sultana, the mother of the heir to the throne. This role was all that would matter in this moment and in the days to follow. It was all she had left, and she would do anything and everything within her power to protect it.

Her gold slippers took graceful, noiseless strides as she glided across the room to the door. As promised, Mozenrath was waiting on the other side, with his familiar Xerxes floating nearby. With a gentle nod, he motioned for the eel to fly further down the hall and out of earshot, so their conversation would not be overheard.

"Your Majesty," he said with another gentle nod of the head and the slightest hint of sarcasm.

"My Lord," she replied coolly. The words tasted of bile as they slid from her throat.

"Have you made your decision?"

"As if I have a choice," Jasmine thought to herself. "I have," she said. "I am honored to welcome the Lord of the Black Sands to my home." She forced herself not to break the eye contact she had maintained with him, despite not wanting to see the victorious smirk that crossed his lips at her words.

"Excellent!" he exclaimed, raising his arms as he moved closer to her. Jasmine fought to resist the urge to back away in disgust. His hands went to her shoulders and she shuddered at the coldness of his fingers on her warm skin. "Wise decision."

"Don't patronize me," she snarled in return, shaking her shoulders out of his light embrace. Powerless as she was, there were still some things she would not tolerate.

"I meant it as a compliment!" Mozenrath replied with a shrug, his voice still calm and jovial. "Are you always this defensive? It's a wonder the streetrat stayed with you this long."

At the mention of her husband, she felt her self-control beginning to slip. "If there's nothing more, I think I'll retire. I'm very tired and would like to rest."

She turned on her heel to leave, but before she could move, his hand was back on her shoulder, stopping her. "Not so fast princess. We haven't had breakfast, yet."

Jasmine rolled her eyes, confident that she would not be seen with her back to him. "You can't be serious…"

"On the contrary! We are, after all, co-rulers now. You'll have to show me around, make me feel more at home."

He was enjoying this too much. And Jasmine was too tired to have the patience for his jokes. "This is not your home and it never will be!" she snapped, running to her room and slamming the door in his face before he had a chance to reply. As she leaned against it, panting and shaking from the effort taken in maintaining her composure, she heard him snicker and mumble something she couldn't quite make out before walking down the hall.

So it was done. She would have to live with this man, eat with him, talk with him, and maybe…she dared not think of it. Here in the silence and relative privacy of her room, with Mozenrath gone and nothing but the sound of her breathing to comfort her, the tears returned as her head repeated the same words over and over again.

"What have I done?"