Fourteen
Alya had never been like the other Descendants. She was a princess (or, more accurately, a Sultana) but she didn't dress like the other girls. At fourteen-years-old, when the other girls were braiding each other's hair, they would look at her with scorn through the side of their eyes, as she sat in her hijab (beautiful though it was, woven with glass beads). As they rejected her (and even in her fierce pride of her religion, even in her most absolute conviction that the hijab was a commandment from God, something to be proud of, the tiniest part of her wanted to be like Audrey and Spring and Carla, with their pretty curls that hung around their faces) she thought of her mother, thought of the strict rules she had lived under with Jafar, his cruel ideals and his misunderstanding of Islam.
Three weeks later, Alya came home sobbing, and her mother had chased after her. They'd sat on Alya's bed for hours, talking about anything and everything, until the girl felt confident enough to bring up with her mother the true reason she was crying.
"I don't want to wear the hijab anymore, mama." Her mother had always given her great freedom surrounding religion. Although Agrabah was a predominantly-Muslim country, it had never been an Islamic State, and her mother reflected those ideals. Alya had asked to wear the hijab when she was six years old and watched her mother pinning it into place. She'd liked the idea, found it a comforting way to express herself and her religion.
But when she asked, her mother had gazed upon her with the saddest eyes she'd ever seen, "If that's what you want, ṭiflah. But think about it first. Don't let those silly girls change you," {Jasmine didn't know that it wasn't a 'silly girl' that had so wrecked Alya's pride, but rather the Headmistress herself}.
The next day, Alya had arrived at school with thick brown hair in large curls that framed her face and settled on her shoulders, pinned back from her forehead by a jewelled hairpin in the shape of a lamp {she'd taken the hairpin off by the end of the day, noticing how out-of-place it looked amongst the other girls' roses and tiaras}. Audrey Rosiers had immediately come up to her, had fawned over her looks and told her she was much better off without the 'scarf'.
Alya said nothing.
"Al-salāmu ʿalaykum."
She often stayed in the Blood Palace. As the official ruler of Agrabah, diplomatic visits to the nameless land that was once Auradon {it was taking a while, for the Kings and Queens to settle on a name} were a must. Especially considering her new governing style.
High King Jay's insistence that Agrabah become an Islamic State had originally confused her. He had never seemed to follow the faith in the five years that they had attended school together {but then, looking back on it, neither had she, always secluding herself before prayers and casting aside her hijab permanently only days after he'd arrived}. But as time went on, she grew more and more comfortable as a leader of an Islamic State, and three years after the Day of Reckoning, she couldn't remember why she'd ever been ashamed of her religion {the High King had declared jihad on the Day of Reckoning, and her protected those of his faith from the ones he and his lovers had dethroned}.
It wasn't often, however, that she bumped into the High King himself.
King Jay was looking extraordinarily healthy, nothing like he had upon his arrival {she'd been there for it, had had to see for herself}. He had more scars now, but he was better filled-out, looked happier and more confident {"He killed Cassim," said a voice in her head, but she ignored it. That sort of thought was treason, and rumour had it that the High Queen could read minds}.
"Wa ʿalaykum al-salām wa riḥmat Allāh wa barakatuhu," she responded respectfully, shifting her niqab slightly.
The King smiled at her, "How's life treating you, Alya?" He had told her, after he'd killed Cassim, that he bore her no grudge, told her he knew that she was not like her brother, who had abandoned their faith and its teachings, who had abandoned him. She hadn't believed him then, but she believed him now. Three years since he'd placed her on the throne of Agrabah, and he'd never dared to touch her, never required anything of her except for running her country under the laws of Islam {and even then, she ruled, not her husband or cousin}.
So she smiled, and burst into a speech about her new son, a baby that she'd adopted from the streets of Agrabah {she didn't notice the look of longing that passed over the High King's face- but Mal, watching from the shadows, did}.
Alya ruled Agrabah for many years to come, and Farouk was groomed well to rule after her.
{And so Aladdin's daughter led Agrabah in a way that her father would've hated and Jafar would have applauded. After all, all she wanted to do anymore was survive.}