The Small Print's Limitations

Chapter Twenty-Six

The more minutes that went by past the scheduled meeting time, the more agonising the wait became.

Though with each minute, Jafar became a little more hopeful, but he dared not to show it.

The divorce was meant to have late in the afternoon, and so he and two senior guards, serving as witnesses to the divorce, had waited for over an hour in the throne room for Jasmine to make her appearance. But she had failed to arrive, and as minutes ticked by, it was looking more and more likely that she wouldn't be coming at all.

Which had to be a good thing... didn't it?

The guards looked at each other with some nervousness, before one cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, are you certain that the Queen knew that it was supposed to happen today?"

Jafar turned and glared at him, but before he opened his mouth to snap at his guards he paused – he'd noticed that late in Aziza's pregnancy (for he hadn't been around long enough in his son's), that Jasmine tended to become forgetful, and so it wasn't entirely unlike her to not show up now. However, this time had been coming for awhile, and even if she did forget... it might be a good thing for him.

He called for his daughter. "Aziza," he said quietly, away from his guards, as she stepped into the room, the curiosity clear on her face. "Have you any idea as to where your mother might be?"

At his words, her eyes brightened, the nervousness that she'd been feeling behind the closed doors to the throne room beginning to lighten from her heart. "She's not here?" she questioned, unable to break the tiny smile from forming across her face, but then she swallowed hard at his expression. "I can look for her."

"Good, and don't leave the palace... did you hear me?" he snapped at her retreating back, but she'd already left the room. Slowly, he stalked towards his throne, and sat, waiting for the appearance of either his wife or daughter.

The guards shifted uncertainly. "Your Majesty," the same one as before spoke up, but now, his voice was quieter. "Is it possible that she is with the street rat?"

Initially confused by the comment, Jafar didn't respond for a moment, before the words sunk in. "No," he responded, his voice calm. "It's not possible."

Not for a moment did he regret murdering Aladdin; he wanted to run to the highest balcony and shout it out to Agrabah, but that would be slightly inappropriate. No, he just had to sit quietly and rejoice – the street rat had finally met his fate; a fate that Jafar had tried to seal multiple times, only for Aladdin to slip away or on one occasion, for Jasmine to talk him out of doing it.

He hadn't told Jasmine or Aziza what he'd done, and if he was honest with himself, he wasn't sure he wanted to, or when a good time would possibly be. He had told Jasmine, but she had been sleeping, and so, he had to admit, it didn't really count. No, he'd wait until this divorce was over, and then tell them – he couldn't imagine that Aziza would be too upset about it, she was too strong for that, and she seemed to be too furious with Aladdin to be disappointed if he was gone.

Jasmine, on the other hand... Jafar deemed himself to not be a jealous man (how many other men would've allowed their wives to live under the same roof as a man she would've otherwise married? Not a jealous one). And it wasn't as if Jasmine had maintained a friendly relationship with Aladdin; her friendship with the street rat had all but disappeared once she'd found out that he'd murdered him. He hadn't been able to hear what she'd told Aladdin on her balcony, but by the looks of things, things had gone from bad to worse.

Despite that, Jafar figured it was probably better to remain quiet on Aladdin's whereabouts for the time being. Even if it meant Jasmine verbally slaughtering him again.

"Father!"

Aziza's voice broke into his thoughts as she pushed open the throne room doors, breathless from climbing the stairs back up to the palace. Walking up to him slowly, she gathered her voice again. "Mother... she's sitting out on a cliff, I spotted her from the stairs, come and look."

Wordlessly, he followed her out the doors, and stared out to where Aziza pointed next to him. She was little more than a speck in the distance, but sure enough, Jasmine sat on the edge of the same cliff he'd ordered Aladdin to be thrown off years ago. Her back was to them, and her hair was out, floating in a gentle breeze.

"What is she doing out there?" Jafar questioned, more to himself than to his daughter, but she answered anyway.

"Who knows, but she's obviously not ready to divorce you... yet." He glared at her, but she refused to back down, instead gesturing towards her mother. "For Allah's sake, what are you waiting for? If you're waiting for a sign, this is it, so be a man and go down there!"

Jafar stared at his daughter a moment longer, then his eyes narrowed. "Aziza, watch your tongue," he warned.

And then he went down the stairs to go after his wife.

How could a man so evil love her so much?

Aziza had been three months old, and Agrabah seemed to be crumbling down in the wake of a new Princess. Jasmine knew that Jafar, her father and all the occupants of the palace were trying to keep the voices of the citizens away from her, to protect her, but she wasn't stupid – she had heard rumours that many weren't happy about a royal daughter, despite her little girl being the most perfect thing she'd seen in her life. She had heard of the random disappearances of many of the particularly loud citizens, and the sudden extra time that her husband and his guards seemed to be away from the palace was too much of a coincidence.

She knew her husband had blood on his hands... and yet, with the level of his protection, it was beginning to dawn on Jasmine that he would go to any length to protect her and his daughter from the outside world, even murder.

But she had her own problems, problems that he couldn't fix.

In their darkened bedroom, amongst flickering candlelight, she stood facing mirrors, her post-pregnancy body wrapped up in one of his black gown – it dragged on the floor behind her, and the crimson sash looped around her waist multiple times, attempting to hold in the billowing fabric. Her hair hung loosely, and she was embraced in darkness so deeply that her face and slender neck glowed.

It was the first time in his robes, and it wouldn't be the last... she no longer felt comfortable in her own, semi-revealing clothes. Taking in her reflection with eyes red from lack of sleep and tears, Jasmine bit down on her lip, uncomfortable with her appearance, and this was how Jafar had found her, with tears freely rolling down her cinnamon cheeks.

He cleared his throat, but she did not acknowledge him. "If you're so insistent on wearing my gowns, I can have someone create your own to fit you," he said quietly. "You're so small wearing mine that I think the fabric will eat you right up."

Jafar meant this teasingly, so was inwardly bewildered when the tears continue to fall from her eyes. Sighing, he moved to stand behind her, and placed his hands gently against her forearms. "What is wrong, pussycat?" he asked, his breath stirring the hairs on the top of her head.

It was a moment before Jasmine could gather the words to speak. "I look terrible," she croaked out, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of the gown, causing him to frown inwardly.

"I'm sure that when Aziza sleeps through the night, you will return to your very pretty self." His response was said in thinly veiled confusion, not used to dealing with the emotions of women when it came to their physical appearance.

"Not that," she protested, before indicating herself in the mirror. "The rest of me. It feels so petty but I'm so... heavy... and I can't fit into my clothes from before and I don't look the same... what are you doing?" she questioned as his long, thin fingers began undoing the sash, and he ignored her squeak of surprise and horror as he opened the gown, forcing Jasmine to come face-to-face with her body, and he forced her chin up to stare at herself when she tried to hide her eyes.

"Don't look away; see what I see," he ordered softly, his thumb gently stroking her jaw. "While it's true that you don't look the same, it's not for the worse; why would I want a teenager still when I have this woman?"

Quietly, they both looked down as he gently ran his hand down her shoulder, over the swell of her larger breasts, the non-perfect small budge of her stomach and finally resting on her curvaceous hip, all in a non-sexual manner. Jasmine was too afraid to let out the breath that she didn't realise that she had been holding, too frightened to startle Jafar out of the sweet honestly that he seemed to find himself in. "Look at you, 'mine," he breathed, almost as surprised by her body as she was. "This womanly, goddess body of yours is incomparable to the teenage body that you had. The fact that you are the mother of my child only makes you more beautiful."

He licked his dry lips, as if finally realising what he was saying, and how awkwardly out of character he was. Not wanting to push either of them too far, he closed the robe once more, and gathered the sash back around her. "Wear whatever you want, what makes you feel comfortable," he murmured into her ear. "But you are only hiding perfection."

The following day, Jasmine returned to her figure-hugging outfits.

For now, she sighed, running her hand lightly over her stomach to try to calm her baby, who had started a tendency to kick if she was in any way distressed. She had slipped out of the palace early at dawn, quietly leaving the palace and making her way down to the cliff seemingly undetected. It had been hours now since she had swung her legs over the edge and settled into the grass; both her and her baby were hungry, but she had to stay out here long enough for the decided meeting time to pass.

She had had all the intention of showing up for the meeting... and divorce. She hadn't wanted it, but when Jafar seemed all but uninterested in reconciling their relationship, and when she was too proud to try, what other choice did she have? But when she'd woken up to find Jafar asleep in the chair beside the bed... she couldn't go through with it without his words echoing around her head.

And the poor man thought she had been asleep.

The gentle touch of his hand against her face had stirred her into consciousness, but she hadn't opened her eyes in fear of ruining the moment; instead, she'd faked been asleep. And then heard everything... if the children hadn't been in the bed with her when he'd finally finished, she would've pulled him down against her and made love to him.

Jasmine's sadness at the loss of her best friend equalled in every measure the warmth she felt at his declaration of love... and his apology.

She was saddened over Aladdin's death but ultimately, not surprised. It had almost been a ticking time bomb between him and Jafar towards death; it was only going to be a matter of time before Jafar would grow tired of torturing her friend and just kill him outright. And while she was sad, she was not entirely devastated... she had not maintained a friendship with Aladdin while she'd been in London, and things had not been comfortable with him since she had returned – going from possibly his frustration of her going straight back into Jafar's arms when he had re-appeared, from his strange... relationship of sorts with her own daughter, to finding out that he'd killed Jafar.

For that, she could not have found herself ever forgiving Aladdin for. If anything, Jasmine did not mourn for Aladdin's death, but she mourned for the relationship that they had many years ago, and for a friendly relationship that they might've continued to have, if he'd been more understanding (and if Jafar was less of an arrogant sadist).

Jasmine knew that if she went through with this charade of a divorce, and returned to London without him, that she would be mourning for Jafar. And it would be worse than when she had mourned for him previously, because she'd known that he was dead – it would be all the more painful to mourn for someone who was still alive and well, but a great distance away. Where he would continue to living his life as the ruler of Agrabah, perhaps even...

She felt physically ill at the idea of Jafar with another woman, after her, and with that sickness came a small pang of sympathy for Leila... how she might've felt to return to find the man she loved with another woman.

Swallowing hard, and trying to ignore the tears at the corners of her eyes, Jasmine knew that she still loved the controlling man. To know this was as painful as the idea of being apart from him. She forgave him – in hindsight, his actions hadn't been as bad as they truly seemed, not on their own and not compared to others' – but they couldn't keep going like they were. Things had to change.

But while he'd said last night that he loved her and was sorry, he'd never said he'd forgiven her for hiding the news about his baby; she cringed at the idea of begging for his forgiveness and the idea of him mocking and deliberately being cruel enough to drag things out, but if she truly loved him, she would have to put up with that; she didn't have a choice. Sighing, Jasmine slowly begun to pull her body around to face away from the ocean, to try and pull herself to her feet.

And stopped still at the golden snake staff embedded in the ground, the swirl of the black and red cloak at his feet.

Jasmine bit her lip. She had expected to take the time of the walk back to the palace to gather up her nerves. And now, with Jafar right here, she had no time to do so... the shiver swept through her bones as she tilted her head away from him, allowing her hair to cover her face, hiding away.

"I expected you to be in the palace," he said quietly, his voice firm and void of emotion. "I believe we were supposed to proceed with divorce proceedings. You've wasted everyone's time."

Despite his scolding, Jasmine felt her heart beat begin to accelerate – since their fight, this was the most words he'd spoken to her, and simply the sound of his voice made herself fall at his feet. But she kept these emotions carefully hidden. "I needed some more time to think," she near-whispered.

"About?"

"About..." she turned her body slightly, still afraid to look up at him, tracing patterns in the dusk coloured grass with her index finger. "About us. And about what you said last night."

He didn't say anything, but she watched as his left foot stepped back, defensively. Pausing, she quickly continued. "It had gotten out of hand, and I understand why you've done what you did, last night. And I forgive you. For everything. It's almost as if... you were almost as if... you don't really don't really want this divorce – "

"Of course I don't want this divorce, you stupid, naive woman!"

He roared the words so loudly that most of Agrabah could most likely hear him.

Despite his tone, his anger and his insulting words, Jasmine felt her heart leap into her mouth at his passion, and felt her cheeks warm with hope.

"I do not want this divorce," he repeated, his voice several levels quieter. "I love you too much to want such a thing. But I do not want to remain married to a child who will not tell me when she has a problem with anything I've done!"

Her head finally snapped up, and the glare in her face was evident as she craned her neck to stare up at him. "I am not a child!"

Jafar bit back his reply, but his expression begged to differ.

She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck lightly, as they took a moment to gather their thoughts. Eventually, she looked back up at him again, before quietly reaching out a hand, and allowing Jafar to help her to her feet, something she was finding herself slowly becoming more and more incapable of with each passing day. Slowly, carefully, giving him plenty of time to move away, Jasmine gently placed her hands against his chest.

He didn't move.

"Jafar, I'm sorry for hiding our baby away from you. I'm sorry for hurting you. I don't want this divorce either but things have to change between us, we can't keep going the way we are," she murmured, her fingers curling around the fabric of his robes.

"Of course things will change," he replied back, just as quietly. "Look at me, 'mine."

She stared up at him, her face pure and innocent.

"You used to hate me, and you would've jumped at the chance years ago to divorce. Now, you wish to remain married to me – why?"

"Because I'm not sixteen anymore, and because I'm in love with you," was her simple reply. "And because I could not imagine my life without – "

Her words were cut off; that was all he needed to hear as he captured her lips with her own, their kiss deepening and becoming passionate. His hands were entwining in her hair, and he held her as close as he could, her stomach no longer feeling like a barrier between them. He could hear her grasp initially in surprise, before returning the kiss with equal desperation, her fingers tracing the side of his face and neck.

They clung to each other, never letting go.

TBC

A/N: We will all ignore how long it took to get this chapter written and uploaded... hopefully the contents of this chapter have made the wait worthwhile. This is the last official chapter – only one epilogue left to go.

EndlessDiamondSky – I think it's easier to write fan-fiction once we have experiences with relationships, that way we have something to draw upon. Yes, Aladdin is a virgin in this story... he could've slept with someone else, but that would be too out of character for someone who spends the entire story waiting for Jasmine. And unfortunately he did have to die... that's been inevitable since writing very early on in the first story.

Kore-Proserpina, BurningTorch and PrettyChelsea – thank you for the reviews, glad to hear you're all enjoying it! Kore-Proserpina, to hear that this is the best story for this pairing that you've read is high praise indeed!