LyDarcy – Oh my goodness you're the sweetest! Never apologize for being an awesome supporter! It was MY fault for rushing my writing, not yours madam. Your reviews and enthusiasm are a breath of fresh air and I love reading them, so never think otherwise! And I know! My heart skipped a beat too when she sought Jafar for comfort! Eek! Some big plans heading our way with these two!
Guest – thank you for the support on the old and new version! Hope you enjoy this chapter as well.
VictoriaJameson – Thank you! And no worries about Razoul. Promise. He's trustworthy.
Lady sesshomaru sama 949 – thank you for the support on the original chapter 19. Hope you enjoy this next bit.
And thank you for those silently reading along – comment if you would like to, don't be shy. *Wink* And thank you for the new favorites and followers! Welcome aboard!
Next up . . .
Sequestering effects of the vast desert revealed a euphoric bliss of magic. The unadulterated tranquility, the silence within towering dunes of soft and rippling sands, birthed ephemeral moments, so fragile, they could be broken by the sound of critters footsteps on a desert floor a hundred meters away. The sun rose in dusks of red and orange. Desert basins surrounded by mountains were etched with a new dawn – the epitome of fresh life. It was desolate and hauntingly beautiful as the colors spilled across the sinuous curving patterns of sand. A low light tightly knit weaves of mesmerizing hues, ranging from golds to blues, across the sands while blackened shadows gave a sense of chasms. Coyotes stirred as kit foxes, beetles, and the kangaroo rats began to leave their spoors. It was timeless and perfectly quiescent.
One lone hunter, however, was unable to appreciate the rhythmic and perfect sunrise as anticipation kept him grounded on one task alone – implementing a kill. The horse swayed back and forth, snaking her head in frustration as they waited. It was evident she wanted to leave but it wasn't time. He'd need to see the beast for himself before taking action.
The tracks led him here, placed the snake within this murky den where it no doubt was convoluted and seemingly safe. But it wouldn't be soon enough. First, the man in black needed to see the yellow eyes of the beast and its dripping fangs. The element of surprise would only rob the glory of the kill. No. This hunter needed to be dead eyed with it when he ripped its vertebrae through its throat.
A wrong move, a poorly timed attack, and the hunter would quickly become the hunted. So wait he had – four hours to be exact – and the mare was growing irksome. "Shh – Shh," He crooned and made a clicking with his tongue to sooth her timorousness. "Easy, Bek. Just wait."
Her ears swiveled with anxiety and she gave a low neigh, her warm breath visible against the frosty air, and she pawed with her foreleg at the rocky ledge. Bek hated snakes – the rider knew that – but he'd waited too long and overcome insurmountable odds just to be here in this moment. There was no backing down. Bek must be brave when the time came. They both must be.
Then, out of the recesses of unforgiving darkness something stirred, rearing its flat head slowly as it flicked out its forked tongue to test the flavors of the earth. A droplet of sweat rolled between the crevice of the hunter's spine, and he stiffened, petrified the snake might pick up on his scent. But it didn't.
The viper's body was long and thin but full of power as it slithered with slimy smooth scales over the watery rivulets of earth. Its smooth column of armored muscle was coated in black and red – poisonous to the touch. Stone-like steel eyes flicked with a transparent covering; its slit irises watching, perusing its territory.
He should feel some remorse for what he is about to do, yet there is only a fleeting blip of compunction. If it were reversed the snake wouldn't think twice. A mind of a viper is so far removed from anything mammalian – a reptile's survival doesn't depend on compassion or nurturing. Its primitive mind is bred to hunt, kill and survive. Others may have loved it once, but the snake can't love back; it's survival doesn't require such thing. No one will miss it. And so, with a clear conscience, the hunter unsheathed a mighty sword, slowly, ever so slowly.
He clutched the handle of the curved blade, tightening his hands on it and the reigns. His heart dropped like a rock in a quarry, plummeting without an end as the man fought to steady his coarse breathing. He needed to be ready, regardless of the outcome, and took a deep breath then expelled it hard through his shapely mouth. His chest puffed, eyes keen and alert, and his sword raised high as he prepared to charge down the rocky slope when – the mare whinnied and jolted, the reigns yanked hard forcing them to a standstill once more. Bek stepped away from the ledge as her rider lowered his chest to her back and watched carefully below.
The snake was not alone.
"You?" Aladdin's voice was a ghost of a whisper as he watched Jasmine emerge from the tent. She was wearing a gold and blue outfit made of thick cotton that clung to her entire form and showed a trace of her flat belly. She stretched her slender arms high above her head and yawned, covering her mouth, and sleepily headed towards the scumbag.
Aladdin ripped his gaze from the scene and closed his eyes. Fists clenching until his palms were full of sweat and mottled with white spots. Spittle formed at the corners of his mouth as he made incoherent gurgling sounds in the back of his throat. He'd never felt so betrayed before in his life. Of course, he'd heard that Jasmine married the devil – a travesty he'd shamefully played a part in – but Aladdin had expected her to be back in Agrabah safe. Away from dangers. Away. From. Him.
Aladdin's body gave uncontrollable tremors and Bek announced her uneasiness from his tension with a screeching whinny. The echoing cacophony forced Aladdin to spring into action, flip off the mare, slink backwards with her in tow, and calm her with soft hushes as they hid deep behind the boulders. When she'd calmed, Aladdin tied Bek to one of the jagged rocks and crawled on his belly back up to the ledge, waiting several excruciating moments before peeking down below. If their cover had been blown, the snake didn't let on to it and merely began packing the tent and supplies as Jasmine waited by him.
Aladdin narrowed his eyes, vision blurred with white hot fury. Wife or not, what business did Jasmine have to be out here with Jafar in the first place?! Could it be that she was falling for him? That they'd been together in fits of passion and Jasmine had whispered those three words meant strictly for Aladdin? How could she do this to them? To their love? It completely blindsided Aladdin when he'd unequivocally discovered that Jasmine had shared Jafar's bed all night; and the hellish visions of her writhing in the tent underneath the beast made Aladdin tremor again.
Maybe Jasmine was doing this out of hurt, Aladdin reasoned. He hadn't gone after her during their last tiff and it pushed her to where she was now. It was all Aladdin's fault, and he knew now as he watched her beautiful innocent face that only he could fix the wrong he'd done. Surely she still loved and waited for him. Waited for the day Aladdin would vanquish the foul villain and storm in to save her as he had before. That thought alone gave Aladdin hope and he eased a little.
Jasmine crossed her arms and stomped her foot. Aladdin watched intently as Jafar whirled around on her and barked something out of earshot, then turned back around to finish strapping the last saddle pack. Jasmine kicked the dirt and stormed off in the opposite direction, and Aladdin allowed a smile to pass. Obviously Jasmine didn't love Jafar. She still hated him just as much as Aladdin did. Jafar marched after Jasmine, grabbed her by the waist and hurled her over his shoulder like a small bag of wheat. She swatted at him futilely before being thrown over the backside of the smaller light colored horse, and Jafar stabbed a finger at her as if reprimanding a child.
Aladdin had seen enough.
He slunk back away careful not to knock loose any freed pebbles or disturb the brush around him, and stealthily went to mount his mare. Bek tossed her head up and nickered at Aladdin as they began to head away from the original target. Aladdin spoke accordingly to his companion.
"I'm not scared! It's not time yet, is all." He looked over his shoulder and gave a smile, knowing they were still arguing. "But soon, Bek. Very soon." She pawed the ground and refused to move. Aladdin rolled his eyes lowering himself to speak closer to her face. "It wasn't forever, Bek, it was hardly an entire night . . . well what do you want me to do? Go down there and slice him through right in front of her? She'd never accept me all bloodied. We need to do this right."
Still not satisfied Bek didn't budge even as Aladdin squeezed his legs together and gave a shake of the reigns. He sighed, hopped off, and gave her the last bit of food in his satchel. "Happy now?" Aladdin threw his arms out to the sides and mounted again. Seemingly pleased to be accommodated for her troubles, the mare obeyed her master and headed north.
Deep down Aladdin knew he and Jasmine would cross paths again – one way or another they would get their happy ever after with each other. He'd just never imagined it would be this simple. It had been heart wrenching to leave in the first place, but he'd done what was necessary for their future.
When he did come back to Agrabah, Aladdin had found Jasmine tending to the commoners, and he'd stepped in front, causing her to run into him. She hadn't recognized him under his uniform that day, but he'd smiled at her and nearly kidnapped Jasmine then and there. It took everything in him to control himself. And again, the next afternoon, when he'd pulled Jasmine from the burning brothel he'd had half the mind to stow her away on his horse and never look back. But he'd waited patiently like a predator – something he learned from watching his opponent. Those who persisted with diligence, won. And it held true in this moment as Aladdin rode away with an assuredness swelling within his chest. In the end a villain always lost, and the hero would receive everything he'd ever wished for, and more.
Cyrus looked himself over in the mirror and washed his tired hands in the basin. A nervous habit of his that often left his hands cracking in the crevices of his fingers. He was a man in his fifties and a successfully wealthy merchant. (Although he only kept the money necessary for his family and gave the rest away to those most in need.) The hours of the day had drawn on painfully slow as he'd waited, and even after a fulfilling day of work, and spending time in prayer most of the morning, Cyrus still felt an unsettling in his soul. He dried his calloused hands, ran a comb over his long greying beard and watched the dark circles under his eyes.
Small slender hands slid around from his back up to his rotund chest, and he let out a deep chuckle that met his eyes. "Tzipporah," he sang his wife's name in soft baritone and turned to embrace her with a kiss. Her gentle eyes met his when their lips parted and she rewarded him with a gleaming smile that melted his heart – the impact as monumental as the day he'd first laid eyes on her.
"You have been so distant today my love. Are you nervous?" Tzipporah asked and Cyrus leaned back, holding her at arm's length as he gave a tilt of the chin.
"Me, nervous? Come now beloved." He chuckled and she eyed him playfully.
"Cyrus," she dragged out his name in a pitched tone, "I know you better than even you know yourself . . . if you want to change your mind you still can. You don't have to visit your past anymore, its behind you – perhaps its best to stay there."
Cyrus turned more serious and gave his wife a chaste kiss, forcing himself calm and smiling happily. "I simply needed extra time with the Lord today is all. I assure there is nothing to fear from Jafar or the past. The Lord knows what he is doing by bringing him here."
Tzipporah made a face of uncertainty but nodded in agreement, let go of his muscular shoulders and headed towards the main room. Her husband had been an excellent provider and protector of their family without fail. She never doubted his judgment even for an instant – however, Tzipporah's willpower was strong and she had her own set of concerns regarding their formidable guest. There were the children to consider after all, but Tzipporah attempted to set worries aside and hold her tongue on the matter.
"How long has it been?" She asked sitting next to him on a settee, and smoothed her long woolen dress over her knees.
Cyrus clutched at his peppered beard, starring off in thought, "A lifetime."
"And you're sure you're not worried at all? That this is a good idea?" Tzipporah allowed then stopped, detecting how condescending she must sound. Cyrus however remained ever patient and gave her hand a loving squeeze.
"Jafar and I were all but cut from the same cloth – there's nothing to fear from his visit. He's a good man."
Tzipporah smiled wanly. It wasn't fear necessarily but rather motherly intuition that told her to be cautious with whom they invited into their home. And, though she despised gossip and often gave a tongue lashing to the women who over indulged in it, tales about an evil sorcerer overthrowing the neighboring kingdom had reached her. Mainly because all of Safed had heard that Cyrus was allowing the brute to visit and every neighbor had made sure Tzipporah knew exactly what sort of evil she was allowing into her home.
She lowered her voice to a hush so the children wouldn't hear her concern. "If you and this . . . beastly man."
"Jafar?" He smiled kindly and she waved it away.
"If you knew him as a beggar boy how on earth did he come to be a Sultan?" Tzipporah searched her husband's eyes. He was so benevolent that sometimes it blinded him. "If what those ghastly women out there say is of any truth, then this man surely is up to no good. Why single our family out after all these years? What could he want?"
Cyrus pulled a discerning face and leaned back in his chair to smooth the flat of his hand over his stomach. Jafar's letter had been brief in detail but Cyrus had an inkling to what the visit pertained. And if he told Tzipporah of his own suspicions it would only make matters worse. Jafar and his young wife would be here any hour now and there was no sense riling the lot of them over hearsay and suspicion.
"I'm unsure," he half lied in attempt to placate and inwardly prayed for forgiveness. "But whatever his means of business I promise that the Lord and myself will keep our family safe." He smacked his hand on his thigh, "Besides!" He boomed, "The children will love to meet a Princess from a strange new land! Won't you my little spies?"
A fit of giggling broke out from around the corner and Tzipporah made a noise of frustration with her tongue. So much for trying to speak discreetly. Three children ran out and pummeled their father, with hugs and laughter; his rocking chair thrown back as two climbed in his lap and another bent over to throw her arms around his neck.
"Honestly, Cyrus you shouldn't encourage them," Tzipporah huffed, "Children, it is very impolite to eavesdrop." Their smiles wobbled a little, and Cyrus gave a guttural noise as he peeled the smallest children from his chest and set them on their feet.
"Listen to your mother, now." He ordered in his most stern voice possible, and pulled in his mouth to keep from laughing, all three facing their mother with innocent big doe eyes.
Hadassah was the eldest at thirteen, Josiah eight, and the youngest, Opal, was five. They all had olive skin, deep set brown eyes, and dark brown hair. A handsome bunch of loving children – and as Tzipporah gave a quick lecture on mannerisms, she couldn't help but swell with pride at the lovely family God had blessed her with. All the more reason for her to be terrified of their arriving guest.
"Now go finish your chores and the rest of your studies." She stated, lengthening her spine. All three nodded with a "yes ma'am" and gave her a kiss and hug individually, then ran hurriedly down the hall in another fit of giggling.
Cyrus took a satisfied breath and relaxed, "Well the children certainly appear in high spirits. I suppose they know the Lord is their protector and to fear not the unknown." Cyrus smiled mischievously and Tzipporah stood, folding her hands serenely.
"And it's their precious naiveté that I wish to protect for as long as possible – I just want to make sure our family will be safe." Her eyes turned downcast with an unspoken hurt, and Cyrus stood knowing all too well where her mind had gone.
He pulled her into his bearlike arms and rocked her comfortingly as he kissed the top of her head and promised to not let anything else happen to their family. Then, when she seemed more at ease, he released her and kept a fruitful smile until she disappeared into the kitchen. Cyrus closed his eyes briefly and turned towards the upstairs balcony. Winter was nearly upon them and the hairs on his forearms stood on end with the breeze. Cyrus bowed his head, gripping the railing, and prayed feverishly once more for guidance and the peace that he desperately needed if he was going to endure Jafar's arrival.
The rooftops of limestone structures were staggered along the mountainous hill. Safed, Israel had narrow and steep streets, beautifully decorated in white stone homes and cobblestone floors. The doors and walls of certain structures were awash in turquoise and lapis lazuli. The city was full of a labyrinth of alleyways and stone staircases adorning the old city. Fresh fruit, and fading flowers, although still beautiful, adorned the streets on every corner, and branches of evergreen fig, olive, and date trees decorated the sky.
Jafar led them through the windy cobblestone streets, passing merchants shops, several synagogues and a sea of people who kept staring. Had jasmine not been so enamored with the magnificent architecture and colors, she would've picked up on some of the scathing looks she was given. Instead, she rode mouth wide and face glowing with wonderment. She'd been cross the majority of the trip, due in large part to her companion, but now her chest bloomed with excitement and she was thankful she had been brought along after all.
Nearest the top of the city was an enchanting stone home with a brilliantly turquoise arched door and vines with wilting flowers growing across the outside walls – Jasmine thought they looked like long spider legs. Jafar slid off of his steed, and gave it a pat on its side to steady him. Jasmine remained seated waiting hesitantly for instructions, then jerked her head up to see the doorway swing open and a large man approaching. With a height as mighty as Jafar's and a mass of hair covering most of his face, the stranger's lumbering gait intimidated Jasmine, and she drew up her shoulders and sucked in a nervous breath.
Cyrus stopped with a wide stance and crossed arms. "I don't recall inviting a pompous Arab to my home . . . What business do you have stranger?"
Jasmine went wide eyed and froze terrified Jafar would kill the man and that their trip would be canceled short and she would have to endure another fifteen hours on grueling horseback. (In retrospect, she knew the latter was a selfish notion.)
Jafar smirked taking his staff in hand and stood with self-assurance. "I'm looking for a Hebrew, who is dripping with guile and impervious to the laws of civilization. Nothing more than a mere heathen, I'm afraid."
"Ha. Is that so? And what would that make you then?"
"An incorrigible calamitous snake," Jafar affirmed without skipping a beat.
The silence sent Jasmine over the edge and she nearly jumped off the horse and ran to the man for forgiveness on behalf of her insufferable husband, when both men broke out into laughter at their raillery – even Jafar who donned a rare and stunning smile.
The man stepped forward with open arms, "It is so well to see you again my old friend!"
"Indeed, it is, Cyrus." Jafar answered affectionately as they embraced momentarily with a firm pat on the back. "I apologize for our delay in arrival."
"Not at all! You're just in time. I trust your journey was a safe one?"
Jafar peered up at Jasmine with an undisclosed look, "Only a little trouble – but nothing I couldn't handle."
Jasmine worked her jaw to keep from rolling her eyes and accepted Jafar's help down from the horse. He snaked an arm around her back and pulled her into his side possessively.
"Cyrus, allow me to introduce my wife and Queen of Agrabah – Jasmine."
Cyrus bowed his head respectfully and then reached to shake her hand. His hands were massive in size and looked capable of snapping an olive tree in half, but to the touch they were gentle and kind. The most noticeable trait about the Israeli man, however, was his stentorian voice and benignant expressions that denoted goodness of heart. Jasmine decided instantly that her former impression of him was misguided, and she took a liking to him right away.
"Your Majesty it is an honor to have you as a guest within our home. Jafar, she is even more lovely in person than you let on." He joked and Jafar gave a slight roll of the eyes. "Come with me child. You must meet my family!" Cyrus boomed holding the crook of his arm for Jasmine.
She gave a side glance to Jafar and he hesitantly let her go, and followed behind them as he led the horses through the doorway, which led to the outdoor courtyard.
"Thank you for letting us come, Cyrus. I hope our sudden arrival wasn't too short notice for your family. I don't want us to be a bother." Jasmine said in a hush, trying to keep Jafar from hearing. She knew it would infuriate him if he overheard her patronizing his decisions. Luckily though, Jafar seemed unaware as he walked in the opposite direction.
"Nonsense!" Cyrus jeered patting Jasmine's hand and then motioning to the stone stairs that lead to the front door. "Any woman kind and loving enough to enrapture the heart of my infamous friend is always welcome within our home. We are family now." He put in and Jasmine pulled a face rather taken aback. How was it possible that two men so polar opposite knew one another – let alone were good friends? Jafar continued to be an enigma.
The door opened before them and a plain woman with wizened lines around her large set eyes came to greet them. She had a comely curvaceous figure, with a strong voice and affable way about her.
"This is Tzipporah, my wife. Beloved, this is her Majesty Queen Jasmine," he introduced briefly, then stepped back to go and help Jafar unload the luggage and put away the horses.
Alone with yet another stranger Jasmine felt self-conscious and clenched her hands at her sides to keep from holding her stomach in the childish way she was so accustomed. "Please, Jasmine alone is fine. No title necessary." She laughed nervously and Tzipporah gave an understanding grin.
"Don't be nervous my dear, meeting new people is always a little nerve racking at first. But rest assured you're amongst friends." Tzipporah took Jasmine by the hand and gave a firm handshake. "Please, come in dear. I am sure you're ravenous and exhausted from the journey."
Jasmine eagerly obliged and followed in, sending a look towards Jafar, who had his back turned to her as he worked. Jasmine opened her mouth at the beautiful home and then forced it shut again. It wasn't so much extravagant and opulent, like her palace, but there was a rare bewitching beauty to the structure that made Jasmine feel immediately at home. The ceilings were arched, and walls as whitewashed as clouds, and the smell of delicious food wafted warmly through the air.
"Now then, the children are studying, but you will meet them at supper." Tzipporah spoke stepping up an angled staircase, and Jasmine followed behind as they walked. "There is a washtub in your room, with already heated water. I knew you would probably need to bathe," Tzipporah looked Jasmine over kindly, and Jasmine chewed her lip acutely aware of her disheveled state. "We leave in the mornings to pray at the synagogue, and after that the children tend to their chores and then we take a walk and bring food to our neighbors most in need."
Jasmine nodded unsure if she was expected to take part in these activities or if Tzipporah was simply an orderly woman who enjoyed naming off to-do lists to random strangers. They reached the bedroom, and Tzipporah showed her in.
"Supper will be ready in an hour." She paused, "I'm sure your husband will be in shortly, but given the loquacious nature of mine, it's safe to say it will be some time before you'll see him again." Tzipporah teased and Jasmine giggled.
"Thank you very much, Ma'am. I truly appreciate your hospitality."
Tzipporah gave an almost surprised, yet pleasant smile and left Jasmine to herself.
Jasmine cleaned up, changed and headed downstairs to aid Tzipporah in whatever was needed. The men finally brought the packs inside, cleaned up and soon met the rest of them at the supper table. Jafar and Cyrus sat at opposing ends, their wives on their right hand sides. Jasmine got to sit next to Opal while haddassah and Josiah sat across the table.
The men spoke conversationally while the children hungrily delved into their food. Haddassah kept staring at Jasmine several times, always with a smile, while Opal gawked up at Jafar with apparent concern on her round face.
Jasmine nearly spit out her wine when the toddler asked Jafar if he was here to steal her, and Tzipporah gave a sudden clap of her hands in loud protest.
Jafar chuckled and licked his lips. Jasmine suddenly entranced by his soft smile as he spoke to the little girl.
"As beautiful as you are my dear Opal, I'm afraid your father would never allow me to steal you away. I promise you're safe."
Opal's concern was lost and replaced by a baby toothed smile, "but you can stay here with me forever instead?"
Jasmine's heart practically palpitated and she had to look away from Jafar's handsome smile. The unwarranted fluttering in her chest all too much and she bounced her leg under the table.
"Opal, leave the poor man alone," Tzipporah put in and then turned the conversation back to the former topics.
Everyone finished eating and Jasmine jumped up to help Tzipporah clear the plates and returned with tea and sweet fig cake. After they'd finished, Jasmine followed the children and Tzipporah to the loft and plopped down on the floor next to the younger two as they began playing a game with some thread; in which they taught Jasmine cats cradle. Tzipporah knitted as she rocked steadily in her chair and Haddassah sewed finishing touches to a winter dress.
Jasmine peered over to where the men still sat at the table speaking out of ear shot. Jafar hadn't let on to why they were here, but a tinge of alarm persisted like a descant over the pleasant sound of the tranquil evening.
"I can make you one too, if you would like," Hadassah said leaning over to Jasmine and making her jolt a little. The girl shone with excitement and Jasmine admired her apparent innocent nature. "It's nothing as elegant as what you're used to, but it would be a beautifully warm shawl all the same."
Jasmine hesitated, "That is very kind of you, Hadassah. I don't want to cause you any trouble though."
"No trouble at all, dear," Tzipporah added, "Hadassah loves to make presents for those she cares about. It would bring her joy for you to accept." She looked at her daughter lovingly and Hadassah nodded in agreement.
Jasmine was uneasy with taking gifts when she already felt as if they were imposing on perfectly kind people. Allah only knew what Jafar was up to and adding more pressure to this family seemed unethical.
Still, the wide, unblinking stare Haddassah wore pulled on Jasmine's heart and she nodded. Hadassah squealed, draping her long arms over Jasmine's neck.
"You're going to look so beautiful. I'll start on it first thing in the morning." She stated proudly and Jasmine breathed a laugh, slightly envying Hadassah's candid charm.
Tzipporah made another pot of tea, and soon after the men had finished catching up and decided it was time to turn in for the night. Jasmine and Jafar walked to their room after saying goodnight, and were alone yet again with estranged tension.
Cyrus kissed his children goodnight one by one, and then met with his wife on the balcony and wrapped his shawl over her shoulder's. She gave a wanton smile. Cyrus leaned on the railing with his elbows, peering out at the Lord's creation.
"You're still uneasy with this my love?" He asked in a quiet hush. Tzipporah didn't respond. "Jafar may have a darkness to him, but there's goodness in his heart. I see it inside him."
"Do you?" Tzipporah nearly mocked with doubt then reeled in her emotions. Cyrus pulled a face admiring how often she struggled to catch herself in order to be an obedient wife - little did she know he loved that she spoke her mind. And he waited easily for her to continue.
"That girl he is with . . . the Queen. He stole her Kingdom from her, didn't he? She's the one he used to get to power?"
Cyrus nodded quietly somber. He hadn't known the full story but it wasn't difficult to fill in the blanks.
"And he's going to steal from us too. Isn't he?"
"Tzipporah . . ."
She turned to him, panic clear in her voice, "Why did he come, Cyrus. Tell me, I know you know."
Cyrus looked off avoiding his wife's piercing eyes. She was fearless and passionate about everything she cared for. One of the many reasons he fell in love with her and left the Forty Thieves. She had turned his life around, brought him to the light and showed him the power of true love. Forever Cyrus would admire and cherish his wife for each special part of who she was. But this time he couldn't agree with her fiery spirit.
Cyrus leaned back over the railing as he spoke. "Jafar is looking for the Forty Thieves . . . he's planning a war against them."
Tzipporah slapped a hand over her mouth with a teary gasp. "But . . . Malachi?"
At the mention of their eldest son's name Cyrus turned his hands as if washing them. It had been years since it was spoken aloud, as he'd forbade anyone from doing so, and the name clawed at Cyrus' heart.
Although they'd barely broached the topic after dinner, Cyrus knew undoubtedly that Jafar had come bent on revenge, and furthermore would do whatever necessary to achieve it. It was easy to connote where Cyrus stood in the equation.
"Jafar knows." Cyrus mumbled scratching against the gruff of his neck, "I believe he's going to try and use Malachi as a pawn somehow."
"But Malachi's just a boy, Cyrus! He could be killed!" Tzipporah huffed, suddenly infuriated again as she paced and shoved an accusing finger, "I told you he would only bring darkness with him, Cyrus, and now he's come to destroy what remains of our family. A man like that is as manipulative as a snake, dripping with schemes and evil and death. And he's in there right now next to our children!"
"Calm yourself woman," Cyrus closed his eyes taming his ire. He hated being cross with her. "Jafar may be many things now, but the Jafar I knew as a boy is still in there. And he would never harm a child." He added plainly.
Tzipporah scoffed digging fists into her hips.
"I will handle Jafar the same way you did me. With patience and compassion."
Tzipporah dug her knuckles into her thin lips and shook her head. She placed a gentle touch to her husband's shoulders speaking more lovingly as she tried to reason. "You see the good in everyone, Cyrus because you are good. You've always been a decent man capable of being pulled back to the light. But – sometimes I wonder if your tender heart will be the cause of leading you back to where you were. Jafar is your past, and he will only drag you back there into the muck and mire." She rested her head on him, "I've already lost a son to the evilness of the world. I can't lose you too."
Cyrus knew his wife was right. The hungry shadows that lingered in the past were constantly lurking about; waiting to ensnare and bring him back to the pit of hell. For decades he had told himself he wasn't worthy of redemption, that his family, good fortune, and abundance of love and new friendships weren't rightfully his. That he didn't deserve any of the things he had especially after all the evil he'd done in his youth.
When Malachi went to join the Forty Thieves, Cyrus knew it had happened as validation of his biggest fear – Cyrus was being punished for believing he could ever be worthy of love and happiness. The loss of his son was a cruel reminder that Cyrus was never far from destruction of his former life and that sooner or later he would fall prey to it yet again; next time it would bring his family down too. It was a fear that had made him lose sleep most nights and a burden he'd tried to mask for the sake of his family.
Tzipporah sniffed loudly, "Please just send them away, back to where they came. Their fight is not ours."
Jafar's being here did bring a sense of concern yet Cyrus could not, in good conscience, deny Jafar the same opportunity for healing, simply because he was afraid of the past.
"I understand your fears, Tzipporah . . . But it is not the Lord's way. I can't abandon Jafar when all he has ever known is abandonment. You loved me through the blackest parts of my heart and that may be exactly what will save Jafar now – and in turn the future of our son." He looked down at her as she lifted her face to meet him. Tears pooling in her eyes. He kissed the top of her head and after a long moment the cold forced them inside and they headed to bed in silence.
The bedroom was quaint yet lovely with arches and an alcove for the bed. The room pertained a small desk, lanterns along the walls, a washtub in the corner, a basin and a vanity, and dresser. The windows were arches as well and covered in glass paneling. It was warm enough, even without the small fireplace lit, but Jasmine felt her skin prickle at the back of her arms due to the frigidity of her companion.
Jafar came to lean over the desk, rolled out a few scrolls and used a quailed pen to mark it in certain areas as he remained standing. He hadn't said a word to her since their tiff that morning – regarding the horse arrangement, and Jasmine threatening to walk the rest of the way to Israel – and the wedge he'd placed between them all month grew more uncomfortable by the second. If she was going to be stuck here on an unwanted trip, then he needed to meet her halfway. (By this point she'd even settle for senseless arguing.)
Jasmine rocked up onto her toes as she sucked in her lips and worked her hands uncomfortably. Jafar flashed a dark sideways glance as she made a popping noise with her mouth, and breathed dangerously slow to steady his irritation. Jasmine bit the corner of her lip, dragging the flesh under her teeth painfully hard, leaving it swollen and darkened. She treaded carefully around to the side of where he stood, keeping a reasonable amount of distance between them. When Jafar still refused to acknowledge her, Jasmine open and closed her mouth, finding her voice catching in her throat and her heart racing violently in her ears. Even after all this time, being alone with the man made her petrified, and Jasmine settled for something basic to say.
"They seem nice. . ." Her voice was pinched and she cleared her throat, "Cyrus and his family. They're very hospitable … that is," her words trailed off.
Jafar remained vigilant on his task and the blatant discounting behavior made Jasmine fidget all the more.
"It's a beautiful city, Israel . . . Tzipporah said there'll be snow soon. Hadassah is making me a shawl too." her voice rose in sincere excitement, then fell again as Jafar took a deep breath in apparent irritation. If that was supposed to deter her from talking it'd had the opposite effect. "So, how did you and Cyrus meet? His wife said Cyrus was in the military for a little while. Were you as well?"
"If it's all the same to you," came an abrupt interruption and Jasmine flenched, "I find my work much more important than your constant babbling, and require a bit of silence." He bit thickly as he tilted his head and strummed his fingers on the side of the desk.
Jasmine's mouth fell open and he smirked turning back to stare down at the papers.
"I can't do this anymore!" She nearly shouted with a slap of her arms and Jafar reluctantly straightened, seemingly unimpressed with her outburst but deciding he had little choice in the matter.
He bore an expression that suggested she was an inconvenience and it caused her blood to boil.
"I can't handle this – rift. This stiff, awkward, silent treatment," she waved to the air between them, "It's not. . . Us."
Did you seriously just put that label on you and Jafar?
Jafar remained calm, shrugging his shoulders impassively as his hands clasped in front. "So, you prefer me to lash out at you, is that it? To beat and ultimately break your spirits on a day to day basis, just so you can feel that there is some consistency in our operation?"
She gave a guttural scoff, "No! . . . I just, God, I understand fighting with you. I understand deploring one another and fencing back and forth as enemies. Hell, I would even accept a rough, relentless pounding in which you try to teach me some morbid lesson –."
Jasmine sucked her tongue to the roof of her mouth and stiffened, morbidity burning her core.
Jafar's brows cocked as he gave a bemused smirk. "Indeed?"
Her stomach coiled like a spring as she tried to recant her statement, "Not, that I don't want that, necessarily, I . . . Never mind." Jasmine shook her head as if clearing her mind and attempted to appear domineering. "I just want to know what the hell is wrong with you lately."
Jafar wore an inscrutable look, "Are you to tell me that you're unpleased by my self-control during your time of physical limitations? That you would rather have me whip, chain, and suffocate you instead of showing rare restraint out of respect for your injuries?"
Jasmine inhaled taken back. That wasn't what she envisioned his response to be and suddenly she felt like a dolt for complaining.
"Because if so, my dear, that is a level of wanton debauchery that even I find deplorably unrefined." He gave a wicked side smile. "I prefer my victims to be in good health, first. Stamina and all."
Jasmine gave a roll of the eyes, clasping her hands on her hips as she paced aimlessly from side to side, ignoring his twisted humor. "Listen. I understand that you're a twisted villain and that you're the mighty powerful sorcerer, and ruler of Agrabah, and all the titles and facades that go with it. But, can you for once, in your life, pretend to be human?"
His head tilted up menacingly as he peered below at her. The skin along his jaw drawing taut as he clenched his teeth, and a tick worked at the corner of his eye. Jasmine swallowed dryly, refusing to keep quiet anymore. She'd never spoken candidly like this, or confronted him on a personal humanistic level. But all this estranged, cold shoulder stiffness needed to end, and she was clearly the only one adult enough to take the first step.
Jasmine let out a breath. "I am miles from my home and disconnected from everything I have ever known, and once again the only person that remains constant in my life is you. Whether I like it or not. So, at least for now, can you please just be my husband, and stop pretending to be some cold distant monster that feels nothing?"
A ghost-like flinch flickered over his expression but he quickly recovered with an air of complete self-assurance. "If you're wanting me to coddle your insecurities, to, soothe your disappointment of unrequited fantasies, I'm afraid you will be sorely disappointed."
Jasmine closed her eyes briefly covering the back of her arms with stiff hands. Of course she didn't want him to give her comfort. That would be like extracting a tooth from a tiger – painful and one of them would inevitably lose a limb. All she'd wanted was to know that she wasn't crazy for believing he was partly human. That the warmth she inevitably felt for him wasn't misguided and that there could be hope for him after all. She just wanted peace, even if it was only for the time being. Since a full breakthrough seemed far from existent, Jasmine decided to pick and choose her battles.
She chewed the inside of her cheek then exhaled dramatically. "Whatever. Can you at least pretend to be my husband and not my goddamn master? It's awkward and going to raise plenty of questions from other people." There. That sounded reasonable enough without letting on about her ambivalence towards him.
He blew out a breath and adjusted his posture. "Very well, then. To appease your erratic emotional state and improve my ability to get work done, I will attempt to be less – standoffish." He showed his teeth in a vicious smile.
Jasmine shrugged, went to the bed and pulled back the covers. It wasn't exactly what she'd wanted, but it did mean she could experience the rest of their trip with less estranged tension.
Jafar watched her darkly, vexed by her cheery attitude as if she'd won some secret battle. "Are you satisfied, little mouse?"
Jasmine looked up with delight at the most delicious opportunity and gave her most coquettish smirk, "Unfortunately, not in a very long time."
Jafar's sneer dropped and she had to clench her teeth to keep from laughing and quickly climbed into bed.
"Well then, I'll be sure to add your sexual peeking to my apparently never ending list of accommodations."
"Please do," she added pulling an innocent face, "And while you're at it, maybe try to be less of a sadistic jerk. Cyrus might give you what you want more willingly if you don't look at his children like you're going to eat them."
Jafar glowered, mustering the most hateful look possible. Jasmine merely bit her lip sweetly, turned over on her side and pulled the covers up under her arm. He wanted to rip the fabric from her curvaceous young body and enact the most wicked forms of pleasure he knew possible, until her lungs burned from screaming his name. He would thrust himself full and deep within her throat so relentlessly that tears would form in her eyes and a gurgling noise would catch in her throat as he made her gag.
Though such a punishment held merit, the image became lackluster and he peeled his hungry gaze off her.
He'd spent so many weeks trying to keep her at a distance to banish any traces of sentiment; yet it only seemed to make matters worse, leaving a void that he couldn't quit place. Jasmine belonged to him and though he could rightfully claim her body – and earn mutual enjoyment in doing so – there was little victory in it anymore. What he wanted was far more than that, no matter how pathetic it was to admit. But it would be far more degrading to give into the little witch while she continued to detest him. (Lying on her back as she imagined someone else while he lost himself inside of her.) To own her physically had been too easy, it was her heart and mind he wanted to possess.
The moment that he took Jasmine again, and take her he would in every delicious way possible, would be because she wanted it. He'd waited agonizingly for years to make her his, and another night wasn't going to hurt. And once she accepted her desires, Jasmine would be quavering with need, pleading for him to be hers, and it would be a most delicious victory indeed.
A smirk splayed across his mouth as he blew out the candle and pulled Jasmine possessively into him. She was impeccably warm and soft to the touch – her hair falling in his face engulfing him in the sweet flowered scent that was uniquely Jasmine. She was his weakness and for that he continued to cling to his hatred – despite how the faintest pieces of armor were softening towards her.
His mind drifted again to the bewitching vision of Jasmine crawling to him, panting and wet, begging for his touch, and it gave him back a sense of power. Confidence resumed control as he assured himself Jasmine was not a necessity for his happiness, but that she would be lost without him; and he fell into a peaceful sleep.
The same could not be said for Jasmine however, as terrifying visions of death and sadness flooded her dreams once more.
Sorry for the delayed update. Sometimes it's flowing easily, other times not as much. But I haven't forgotten about you guys or the story!
Aladdin is back! Anyone excited or indifferent? I'm both. Lol.
Next Up: Jasmine finally uncovers the past while Jafar presents a proposition for Cyrus.
Until next time. Adieu.