An Agreement's Small Print

A/N: I think this is a first for this story, two chapters written and posted in a single day. On a bit of a roll at the moment, now being able to write the ideas that have been in place since nearly the beginning of the story. Enjoy!

Mad Madame: Glad you liked the last chapter so much; hope you like this one as well, even if it involves yet another plot twist...

Chapter Twenty-Six

In the early hours of the morning, Jasmine's conscious kept her awake. She knew that Jafar was still awake also; with her head on his chest, his breathing was too light to be sleeping, and the fingers on his left hand lazily ran through her hair, gently working out tangles when he came to them.

But wisely, he didn't say a word.

The silence continued from Aziza's room, whom the Sultan had advised had difficulty calming down, but had finally dropped to sleep from the exhaustion of her big day. This hadn't stopped Jasmine from entering her room before bed, from giving her daughter the softest of kisses on her forehead, and she was relieved when Aziza made no stir, so she wouldn't ask why her mother's eyes were red.

Jasmine couldn't have answered the question herself at the time, as she could barely understand why she had had silent tears falling from her eyes on her lengthy walk from the throne room to their quarters. It was only when she'd entered the bedroom and seen the uncertain look on Jafar's face that she understood, the look of a man who was unsure how his wife might be feeling with him sentencing her best friend to death. To his credit, he hadn't commented on her tears; he'd simply extended an arm towards her and she'd cuddled up against him willingly, where they remained in silence.

And she knew that he wouldn't ask unless she said something, because after so many years, they had realised that when it came to emotions, they worked the same way – they could only speak when ready, because if one tried to pull the other out of silence, it would give way to explosive arguments (the Sultan had commented to her that this was rather unhealthy, but then, they hadn't been the healthiest of couples to start with).

Jasmine was grateful for Jafar being co-operative – it gave her time to think, before she spoke to him and put her foot in her mouth.

In her heart, despite how furious she was with Aladdin for betraying her the way he had, Jasmine believed that it was no reason to send him to his death. At the time, she'd believed that Jafar was being overly harsh, the overly-protective parent side of him taking over, the side that only she knew of. She had truly believed that the worst that Jafar would do was expel him to Agrabah for good, banning any return to the palace – not that it would matter in a week, when the Sultan would be the only one there to return to.

But she should've known, should've been prepared, should've realised that Jafar was going to take the opportunity to get rid of Aladdin once and for all. Just because he was always careful in not bringing up the topic with her now didn't mean that he didn't want to do it anymore. He'd spent eight years waiting to be able to murder him, Allah only knew how many times Jasmine had begged him not to do it when she had first wanted Aladdin to leave the palace, and he then resided himself to waiting for a good enough reason to do it, that no one would question. And now he had a good enough reason, Jasmine dreaded the idea of telling him not to do it the way she would dread telling Aziza that she couldn't eat a sugar-filled treat right after someone else giving it to her.

But despite her telling Aladdin that there was nothing that she could do, she had to at least try, if only for her selfish goals, for being able to survive the day in one piece. She would be apart from Aladdin soon enough for good anyway, but there was a difference in leaving Aladdin alive in Agrabah and leaving him as a dismembered corpse.

As if reading her mind, she felt Jafar's hand leave her hair and press against the hand on his chest, trapping it between the scarred skin of his chest and the warm, rough skin of his hand. "Stop it, 'mine; it's uncomfortable," he murmured, the sensation of Jasmine's stroking his scars when she was stressed having turned from soft to annoying.

Jasmine pushed herself up gently to look up over Jafar's face, who studied her wearily, his eyes lazy but alert. His eyes were darker than her own, with this physical feature the only one that Aziza had inherited from him, which made Jasmine worry somewhat for what Aziza's personality might turn out to be like. "Why are you killing him?" she asked quietly, now able to keep her voice steady when only an hour ago, she would've feared for it.

Jafar didn't respond, only staring up at her unblinkingly, nor did she offer an answer. They both knew the answer, anyway.

"I don't want him to die," she continued.

"I know you don't." But it's not your decision.

Jasmine sighed softly, resting her head down next to his own, the pillow suffocating her face, before bringing herself up again. "Jafar..." she hesitated, before going in for the plunge. "Can we... can I suggest a compromise?"

There was a long silence before: "What sort of compromise?"

His question cheered her a little, the fact that he was at least open to listening to her idea, rather than running away with his own plan and giving no consideration to anyone else, as per the usual. "Well, couldn't we just tell him...?"

*

Dawn came and went, and Aladdin watched the sun slowly rise higher in the sky during the morning through the dungeon window. With every heartbeat he felt in his body, he slowly started to believe that perhaps the next heartbeat wouldn't necessarily be his last; Jafar had said at dawn, or at least, that's what Aladdin had thought he said.

Then again, maybe Jafar had simply forgotten, which he truly knew was unlikely as the palace suddenly burning down and killing him anyway. But Aladdin could think of little reason as to why they hadn't killed him yet, and the only reasons he could think of were all as unlikely as the first one. No one had even come for him yet, and he wondered briefly how hard he could hit his head against the wall, sparing anyone the pain of coming down.

Maybe Jafar had just decided to leave Aladdin in the dungeon, to die slowly over time, rather than making it quick. He couldn't put this idea past the sorcerer, and now that he thought about it, he was rather surprised that Jafar hadn't thought of it either.

But then the door cracked open, and he looked up in dreaded interest to see Razoul's figure silhouetted in the doorway. Aladdin had fully expected to see him, but did not expect Razoul to remove his sword from his belt and swiftly cut through the ropes still tying Aladdin's wrists together, let alone expect the words to come out of his mouth: "They want to talk to you."

As far as Aladdin was aware, Jafar nor Razoul were ones for delivering big speeches right before an execution. "They?" he questioned, mentally holding his breath.

"Jafar and Jasmine, who else?"

The walk to the dining room could not go by slowly enough for Aladdin, a small hope in his heart that despite Jasmine's words of the previous evening, that perhaps she had managed to do something for him, for her love to come through for him in the end. He knew it was there somewhere, all he had to do was gain her trust once more, something he knew that would happen as soon as Jasmine would give him a chance, once she was out from under Jafar's spell. This 'talk' with them, no matter the meaning, only went to prove the theory that Aladdin had been going over in his head since Jasmine had stormed out of the throne room – that she'd only said those things to show submission to the jackal, because he was certain that if it had only been the two of them in the room, she would've tried to smuggle him to safety.

And now both sat at the table, Jafar at the head and Jasmine as his right-hand woman, both with exhausted eyes that made Aladdin wonder if they had had as little sleep as himself. But while Jafar's face still appeared to be simmering with dark anger, Jasmine's face seemed to be far lighter than that it had been the previous night, even if the small smile she offered to Aladdin as he sat down appeared to be sad.

Aladdin slowly sat down beside her, looking carefully at Jasmine but with his words directed to Jafar. "Am I...?"

"I'm not executing you... not today, at least," Jafar muttered, bringing further hope that Jasmine had influenced the decision after all, especially with the look that she shot him, before turning towards Aladdin, her eyes gentle but the smile still hauntingly sad.

"Aladdin, I'm pregnant, again."

In contrast to the same news that Jafar had given Aladdin regarding Aziza, Aladdin felt his eyes light up for his true love, even if this baby too, would be the spawn of the devil. "That's wonderful!" he replied, genuinely happy for her, and wondering if Jafar was pleased at all about it himself, considering the darker look that had crossed his face at his exclamation. "Aziza will have a sibling to play with; there'll be two of them to follow me around - "

"Boy, you've already corrupted one of my children; you would not be around the second even if you could be."

Aladdin felt his mouth hang open at Jafar's interruption, too surprised to notice the pleading look Jasmine had given her husband. "I've corrupted her?" he asked, disbelievingly, before frowning. "What do you mean, if I could be?"

Jasmine sighed, and after quickly shooting Jafar a warning look, glanced at Aladdin before finding the table very interesting. "Aladdin... we – meaning myself, Jafar and Aziza – are moving to London. Permanently. In one week's time. We've already started to pack and ship some of our things."

She had said this in a rush, but Aladdin could only stare at her, having taken in every last, cruel word.

*

It was on his walk through Agrabah, quickly moving through the crowds towards a rarely-trodden area of the city, that Aladdin reflected on the news.

Their move made sense in a way, he supposed – upon learning that she was pregnant again, Jasmine had realised that she didn't want to raise her second child in Agrabah, or anywhere near Arabia for that matter; Aziza's disappearance yesterday had only cemented this belief in her (and no, it was not about him, she told him; they would still be leaving even if Aziza hadn't gone missing). Jasmine had revealed to him that they owned a house in London, and she had dreamt of raising Aziza there – now, with their second child, she had the chance to do so.

It had taken Jafar some time to come around and agreeing with her idea, especially after the years of wanting to become ruler of Agrabah, and now that he was, to throw it all away for family life in the country. But, in ways that Jasmine had decided to keep between her and her husband, he had finally come around to the idea, not willing to "ruin another chance", as she'd carefully put it, and Aladdin had decided not to pry. Instead, full ruling of the city would return to the Sultan, whom they'd told nearly immediately after agreeing on the idea, and it was up to Aladdin as to whether he stayed in the palace or returned to the city streets – they wouldn't be there to decide for him.

Yes, it made sense – Jasmine wanted the family life for her young children, and Jafar, for bizarre reasons unbeknown to Aladdin, was willing to go along with it. But this was all that Aladdin could believe of it, and he couldn't help but think that he'd rather have been executed than hearing this news. At least if he were dead, he would have no memory of Jasmine – alive and her gone away from him forever, he would always wonder about her, wonder if she was safe, wonder for how much longer Jasmine might be trapped underneath Jafar's spell for, without anyone there to rescue her, like himself.

Aladdin could not comprehend this move to be in any way, Jasmine's idea, or if it was, he firmly believed that Jafar had planted the idea in her mind, through his damn hypnotic snake staff. Her going away with her husband for one year was one thing; going away with him forever was another story, a story that he could not believe Jasmine would go along with willingly.

And he couldn't imagine Jasmine ever wanting to leave him, not after successfully stopping Jafar from executing him. It would've been all for nothing if Jasmine left.

With that in mind, he stopped outside a run-down stall, before slipping underneath the curtains that was wrapped around it, coming face to face with a toothless old man, who smiled a dangerous and sick smile at him under a large turban.

"What can I do you for, young man?"

Aladdin faltered for a moment, hearing the bustle of several streets over, outside the stall. He could walk away now, he knew, and leave Aziza with her mother intact, allowing the three of them to travel on to a new life in London. But Aladdin wasn't sure that he could live with himself if this did happen, and his honour forced him to want to save Jasmine from herself before no one else was able to, even if it meant death.

"I need your most lethal, but undetectable, potion, please."

TBC