Although reluctant at First, the Queen of Agrabah allowed one of the guards, Jamal, to accompany her during the venture outside the palace walls. Jamal remained a slight distance away, but kept a hand on his sword at all times, watching leerily as they passed through the busy town square, then down the street towards the marketplace.
There were murmurs at first, a low buzzing around the way as Jasmine caught the attention of the Arabian people. It wasn't until a man ran out, shouting, that full attention had been drawn, to Agrabah's Queen Jasmine, calling everyone come to a standstill.
"Sultana! Sultana! Malakti! Malakti!"
A man in rags darted towards the Queen, Jamal drawing his sword in preparation, when the commoner fell at her feet; a dust cloud rising around the impoverished man. The guard sheathed his weapon, but remained cautious, as the peasant repeated into the dirt, Malakti – my queen – over and over. The young woman breathed raggedly, heart clenching upon the destitution before her. During the short time in the streets, Jasmine knew there were countless who endured hardships, but none of them had fallen at her feet like this before. They had seen her as one of them; not someone righteous. Jafar would love for someone to grovel at his feet, Elijah and Ettie might too. But she was not like the people in the palace. This made her uncomfortable to say the least. Still, being Queen meant keeping feelings in check, and remaining as decorous as possible. Or so she'd heard.
Jasmine turned to Jamal for some type of guidance, but he merely gave a nod, and she straightened looking back to the vagabond, "What is your name?"
"Qamamat, my Queen," Qamamat bowed deeper into the dirt.
Garbage. This poor man's name meant, garbage.
She tried not to let her voice break, "What is it you seek from your Queen?"
"Please, Malakti," he was violently trembling, remaining face down, "I am but an unworthy street rat, yet I plead to touch the hem of your clothing…"
The pit of her gut churned while looking over the arch of his back as he remained bowed, boney knees pressed under his chest, lanky fingers inches from her feet. The vertebrae of his spine tented under the tattered vest and aged skin tightly clung to his underfed belly, revealing each bone of his ribcage. He was balding with silver strands, which suggested, he might be in his fifties. What life had this man lived? This man called trash. The amount of strength he must possess to have survived this long, and come this far in a world that was so perilous, was unimaginable. He had more wisdom no doubt than she ever would, yet he groveled at her feet. The feet of a naive girl, beseeching to touch the ends of her pants as if they endowed magical qualities of life.
"And tell me, Qamamat, what good would the touch of a simple piece of fabric do you?"
"You are a master most powerful. A charmer of beasts, and an enchantress, please. My wife is sick. My – children, starving. I beg to touch your heavenly cloths, in hopes that a drop of your essence may fall upon me, and bless my home."
Jasmine laughed lightly, "Is that what they're calling me?" Jasmine flashed a smile to Jamal and then to the man beneath her.
She was far from being a sorceress and the beast of which he spoke – Jafar as the snake monster – had been a rumor that gotten way out of hand from the beginning – started by the servants no doubt. Though he was a beast in his own right, she could hardly call sleeping with Jafar charming.
An audible gasp came from the large crowd as Jasmine knelt down and touched the man's hands, taking their calloused palms into her soft ones.
"I am a master of no man, Qamamat, nor an enchantress or deity. I cannot heal a man with my touch, nor can I save him. However, you may call me … the mother of this nation, an advocate for the weary, and a friend for the lost and afraid."
Jasmine looked to Jamal who seemed to understand instantly. The guard went to a nearby cart, and after a moment, returned with the entire amount of bread. Jamal then handed Jasmine three loaves as she held her hand out for them readily. Watery, desperate eyes met Jasmine's hesitantly as she raised Qamamat by the gruff of his chin; his bottom lip quivering at her loving, compassionate gaze. His heart all but gave out when she handed him the wrapped loaves of bread, and then slipped two gold coins secretly into his other hand, clutching the wiry fist with tenderness as she closed his fingers around the money.
One thing she had remembered this time to take, was a bit of money. She could pay Jafar back in other ways for it.
Then Jasmine rose and the beggar fell back on his face, thanking her as he wept with joy.
She knew it wouldn't be enough. That, that money would sustain his family only for a while, but hopefully it would be enough for now, until more work became available, and her plans for the commoners came to pass. Jasmine motioned for Jamal to hand out the rest of the bread as she spoke to the masses who all were now watching with adoration.
"And that goes for every one of you…Call me mother, advocate, and friend. For I will be one for my people as long as I shall live."
With that, the crowd parted, all bowing their heads when Jasmine went, a few reaching for her hand to kiss it, and thank her as she passed. The brothel was only a few buildings down, and Jasmine made it to the steps of the closed off brothel. Jamal caught up with her, insisting he come inside too, but Jasmine told him to stay outside and buy another cart of bread and barrels of fish and to distribute them. The bill would go to the palace of course, and she knew Jafar would be infuriated; but she didn't care none. If the Sultan had an issue with her kindness, he could take it up with her.
After knocking on the door, and receiving no response, Jasmine pushed hard on the wood, the creaking deafening as she stepped into the musty building, and the door closed behind.
Dust motes were the only movement in the forsaken room, their small shapes catching in the beams of light that spilled through boarded up windows. It was dank and Jasmine coughed, fanning the stuffy air. The whore house was extremely dim, so much that Jasmine bumped into an unseen, overturned table, gripping the edges to steady herself, as she swore under her breath from the throbbing of her leg. One week and the place had become apocalyptic of sorts.
"He – Hello?" she hesitated, "Tahira? Liliana?" Jasmine heard no response other than her own echo, and winced with the next name, "Samira?"
"Well, well… if it isn't the Princess, come to grace us with her presence." Ummah croaked from the shadows stumbling out.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but when they had, Jasmine stifled a groan, seeing Ummah disheveled, bruised, and pugnaciously drunk. The large woman clumsily took a seat, nearly missing as she plopped down hard on her keister.
This was going to be awkward.
Jasmine gave a clear of the throat, stepping a little further in to look about the boarded windows.
"What's with the boards? Locking the girls in, now Ummah?" She tried to laugh and failed, her lighthearted remark coming out terse.
"More like keeping the threat out…"
Jasmine chewed at skin inside her cheek, digging deeply with a canine until she felt a tinge of blood. She didn't like it in here. Never had before, but now more than ever, the ambience had shifted: was heavy with death. Almost as if a curse were on it from Dracul's bloody murder. The staircase that led to the room where it all happened sent her to visibly shudder, and Jasmine wanted nothing more than to bolt for the door, and fall back into the light. But she remained put.
"Where is Tahira? The girls…. What – happened?"
"Besides you and that vizier ruining my life?"
"He's the Sultan now Ummah…"
"Yeah… he took that. That aint what he is to me…never will be. And he took you too, don't forget that –."
She was right of course, and Jasmine felt stupid for even correcting Ummah.
"– Just like he took Dracul from me and left my brothel without protection."
Ummah uncorked a bottle and Jasmine slowly came to sit at the same table, picking up a fallen chair then resting in it, her weight creaking, making it seem the chair would buckle at any moment; its squeaking almost as unsettling as the rest of the brothels vibes. Jasmine spoke softer and slowly, as if to a frightened child. Although Jasmine didn't know if Ummah was afraid, or if it was herself she was trying to calm.
"Ummah…. Where is Tahira."
"Dead probably."
The Queen remained silent, giving an unimpressed look at the Madam's vague negativity.
Madam brothel sighed, "The girls all left. Except for Vada. But that's cause she's too old and ugly to make it on her own anymore."
"Vada's only 23."
"Well she's ugly then," Ummah hissed before drinking heavily. Wafting fermented grapes and spiced breath as she burped.
"I don't understand… why would they leave? What – the hell, is going on?"
"Petty thugs, and street rats the first few days. Without Dracul to protect us, they took most of our loot. But, the real threat is yet to be had…" she burped again this time while drinking and choked a little on the fluid before beginning again. "There is a group of murderous heathens. They call themselves Malik Alllusus. King of Thieves…I never should've done what I did…"
"Done what Ummah… and for Allah's sake, put down the fucking bottle already! You look like shit and I can barely understand you." Jasmine snatched the bottle from Ummah's thick hand, and set it hard on the top. Now she knew how Jafar felt this morning at breakfast.
Ummah grunted then reached inside her dress to pull out a small decanter of wine, and kept drinking.
Sick…
After Ummah had her fill, she went on, "Malik Alllusus is a notorious gang traveled from the Middle East. Or, South Asia. No… from Greece and Austria… just... all over," Ummah waved a hand still barely audible as her tongue grew slack. "Dracul, was second in command though, alright? That I know for certain."
"Alright…" Queen Jasmine folded her hands on the table trying to remain composed and patient, just wanting to know what happened to her friends.
"Well… a long time ago, he betrayed the leader of the thieves, for one reason or another. Then, stole an abundance of their fortune and left with saddlebags full of gold. Long story short – by the time I found him, he was on my steps, half dead. With wounds, blackened eyes and broken ribs. But he never lost one coin of his riches…," Ummah paused shoving a stubby finger to the air, "I took him in, fixed 'em up and hid him. In return he protected me and the girls."
"Out of the kindness of your heart? I suppose that mass fortune had nothing to do with it." Jasmine crossed her arms, feeling agitated as if she'd never left the brothel. Ummah was a greedy pig no doubt about it, and had treated the girls with bare necessities and harsh punishments. All while keeping more than half of their earnings; yet this entire time she had sat on riches with a thieving brute. Unbelievable.
Madam didn't disagree but picked at her teeth, and gave a slight shrug.
"Well…if they never found Dracul before, I doubt they will come looking for him here now. And even if they did…he's already – gone."
Ummah shot a look that told Jasmine it hurt to be callously reminded of his death, and Jasmine gave an apologetic wince. The rounded woman spoke again, only this time, it was a hushed, broken, whisper, forcing Jasmine to lean in.
"The night of your auction… Dracul bid all he had on you… he wanted you so badly, and …. It broke my damn heart… I wanted to break his. So, I wrote a letter and sent the kitchen boy to track down the bandits and let them know Dracul was hidden here the last decade."
What?! Rahman…?
"Wait, wait, wait? You sent, a twelve-year-old child after a murderous gang of degenerates, because you were hurt over some maniacal crush?" Jasmine hit the table shocking both herself and Ummah, "What the fuck! Rahman is probably dead, because of you…Do you realize how selfish that was?"
"Ha! If only I could be so lucky."
Jasmine curled her lips, crossing her arms again. She should be shocked, but wasn't.
"Unfortunately, the gods of every faith are against me, and I'm more than positive that boy made his destination safely, and in time to deliver the message – stop glaring at me girl! I know it was foolish… but before I could change my mind, Jafar had burst in here looking for you, and I'd forgotten all about it…"
Sure, blame my psycho husband. But if Rahman's hurt, that's blood on your hands.
Ummah's pig like features wrinkled, making her snout crease in several places, "I knew Jafar was screwed up... just… not that horrible."
Clearly Jafar's reputation had been widely known for some time. Not just when he took over Agrabah. "Yeah, I know the feeling. He's – shocked me too…," Jasmine held her stomach and looked down, trying to find a positive, "Should the bandits come through here they will see Dracul is dead, and they'll just leave… right?"
"They'll be wanting their treasure back."
"So?"
"So, we spent the loot over the years, there's not a cent left. Hell, this brothel was built on that money. They will recant it by whatever means necessary, until they feel they have been set right and paid for tenfold. No doubt they'll spill my blood, and whoever is in my company for good measure…"
The lower bit of her spine ached from hunching and Jasmine straightened. Dracul was a murderous thug, and Ummah a no-good whoremonger. For that, Jasmine knew they both deserved what had happened and what was to come. However, she had played a hand in these events as well. None of this would've come to pass had she not tried to escape her destiny as Jafar's wife and Queen. Even if Ummah was disgusting, Jasmine truly wanted to be the mother of the nation, advocate for the weary, and friend for the lost and afraid. And that meant for all of her people. Jafar would simply have to get on board later.
"I'll be back tomorrow morning… can you make it by until then?"
Ummah gave a look of surprise, eyes red from tears as she blinked them away and nodded up to Jasmine who was now standing to go.
"You don't deserve my kindness… but, then again. I don't deserve the second chances I've been given, either. You and Vada can stay with me in the palace for a short time. I'll be back before noon tomorrow."
Jasmine gave a nod to confirm she was set in the decision, but she needed to get out as quickly as possible before she could change her mind. Just before she reached the exit, however, Madam called to her.
"A word of advice, Princess… Be careful of that one. Jafar. He's not the man he once was."
He once was? Thick tresses flipped as Jasmine spun around.
"What do you mean by that? Did – you know him?"
Ummah shook her head not wanting to say too much, afraid Jasmine might withdraw her offer. But the girl gave a stern look, which caved Ummah's resistance.
"He was very young… not too much older than you now; though he looked and acted beyond his years. He and Sultana were famous together, She the beautiful powerful Queen, and he her ward... and lover."
Jasmine involuntarily gagged and felt her ears turn inside out.
"Oh, don't look that way young Queen. Jafar was a looker for sure back then, and the two together were delicious. Vicious, but enchanting all the same."
"I… I think you're mistaken. You're drunk. Please just get some –."
A throaty laugh came out turning into a guttural cough, as Ummah spit onto the floor. "You don't believe me? Just as well. No one ever wants to believe a whore. But lookey here."
Jasmine stepped cautiously closer then regretted the decision instantly as Ummah landed a heavy foot on an empty seat and raised her dress to reveal thick inner thighs. It was difficult to make out in poor light, but there seemed to be a curved burn mark that had healed over improperly.
"I know it's ugly, but I was the first to be marked. He got better at it over time, looks real nice on all the others."
"Jafar…the man I had to marry. He did that to you? W – With what?"
"A cobra ring." Ummah put her dress back down, "It was a family heirloom of Sultana's."
Jasmine felt a wavering sickness then held onto a chair for support as she clutched her belly with the other hand. "So … he stole it from my mother?"
"Ha! You'd like to believe that, yeah? Sultana is the one who shoved it in his hand piping hot the first few times." Ummah's laugh came unsettling, like rocks rubbing together, "He was terrified of what she told him to do. But, after a bit, Jafar took to the branding kindly. It pleased his mistress, so he wore it on his hand with pride for the longest time."
Jasmine turned green trying to register all of this. There was no way any of that was truthful. Jafar never wore such a trinket and neither had her mother – that she could recall. Sultana would never have betrayed Hamed or slept with a young boy, or made him do distasteful things like that!
As far as the rumors about Jafar went, Jasmine didn't want to entertain the notion. Period. Him fucking her mother, and Ummah, and Allah new how many others, was a debilitating vision. And now he was fucking her. How many women had he brought with him into bed this morning? A dozen. A hundred? Jasmine felt dirty all over, and wanted to run down to the river and scrub herself bloody.
"As I said," Jasmine swallowed hard and pulled herself to full height, which wasn't much, "I will be back for you tomorrow… sleep it off, you're drunk."
Ummah cheered to the air laughing idiotically and began singing some old song about whoring.
When Queen Jasmine burst through the door, she all but fell on her knees in the sand; as if being tossed out on her ass by Satan himself. Jamal looked at her worriedly, and Jasmine held up a finger suggesting she only needed a minute to catch her breath.
Finding the alleyway where Jafar had caught her, Jasmine ducked into the cool shade between the buildings, and rolled her head back on the brick. She refused to believe a word of what Ummah said. Jafar was many things sure, but he would never sleep with Sultana and then her daughter. The woman called mother was a stranger to Jasmine, but her mom nonetheless. And for that reason alone, Jasmine believed deeply that Sultana was a good, faithful wife, who would never harm anyone or anything.
Tomorrow Ummah would be sobered up, and then Jasmine could ask more questions and possibly get the correct answers, instead of these putrid horror stories. Then, after clearing Sultana's name, Jasmine would look for Tahira and the girls. One step at a time.
It was high noon when Jasmine decided she'd had enough fresh air, and needed to head back to the palace – lest Jafar become murderous and burn down the city to find her. The thought made her eyes roll as she began walking towards the place. Jamal remained with the peasants though, smiling widely as he gave food to a little girl, who then hugged him tightly. Jasmine had turned in time to see and smiled, walking backwards to keep eyes on the beautiful view, when she ran into something, and let out a gasp.
Jasmine turned swiftly around, cursing herself for constant gaucherie. "I'm so sorry … I – I'm…" Her throat tightened as the words caught.
It was a man of whom she'd bumped into and he was clothed in royal blue and black from head to toe, dark wide eyes and thick brows the only thing that showed. Lower halves of his lids raised, making him looking like he was glaring at her while studying the young woman. Did she know him before? Had she done something to upset him? (Other than ramming into him with her backside.)
Jasmine opened and closed her mouth, feeling an unsettling familiarity with the masked man. But before she could announce any qualms, the palace guard was at her side.
"Is there a problem, your Majesty?"
"Get off your sword, Jamal," Jasmine huffed, stepping back from the stranger, knowing Jamal was ready to attack. "Everything is fine here." She looked from her guard and back to the man, "I apologize again for running into you."
The man blinked a response, still watching her as if she were a treasure to behold, and she moved past him, averting her eyes from the intense stare; looking over her shoulder once to see that the man had turned to follow her with a watchful gaze. Jasmine shuddered a little, and went on, thankful Jamal was with her after all.
The guard went ahead, going around back to the servants' quarters as Jasmine strode briskly up the pebbled walkway, something catching her right eye from high above on a balcony.
Henrietta and Jafar were leaning on the ledge. Jafar looked upset, and Ettie held on his arm in a consoling manner. Jasmine remained unnoticed from below; thoughts locked on the pair, preventing her from hearing the man that approached from the palace steps.
"There you are your Majesty. Everyone had worried something terrible happened when you were nowhere to be found."
Autumn winds filled Jasmine's lungs as she snapped to attention, facing Elijah. "I was amongst my people and very safe I assure you. Plus, I didn't feel it necessary to intrude on your meeting with the Sultan; but I thank you for your concerns"
He stepped by Jasmine and, with a look, egged her to peer up towards the balcony where Ettie and Jafar remained close together.
"They're quit a lovely vision together, wouldn't you agree, your highness."
Jasmine smirked, acting like that didn't bother her. "Your daughter is lovely, Mr. Kingsley, however I'm afraid any vision that includes Jafar is less than praiseworthy."
He scoffed, looking from the couple to the lovely Queen, "You dare to speak so blatantly about your own husband?" Elijah raised a brow but wasn't shocked in the least. He remembered full well her antics when she stormed into the great hall a few months back. She might've changed her appearance, and title, but remained a foolish girl at her core.
"You don't know the Sultan like I do…" Jasmine turned away from her husband when seeing him look into Ettie's eyes – Jafar still void of noticing Jasmine at all.
"On the contrary. I believe to know him better than you ever will." Elijah held out the crook of his arm, "Shall we speak privately?"
It would be rude to decline, and Jasmine didn't want to push her luck as coming off as an improper and ill-mannered child; so, took his arm with both hands, as they strolled away from the balcony deep into the garden, the trees giving relief from the high sun.
"Did you know that I knew your mother?"
Jasmine shook her head slightly. Sultana was a sore subject at the moment, after the terrible conversation with Ummah. If everyone could stop bringing up the deceased, that would be fantastic.
"It was only once that I met her, you were only a little infant at the time… but I remember how beautiful she was. You remind me of her."
"You're too kind, Mr. Kingsley. I'm sure Ettie is as beautiful as her mother too."
"Yes… the spitting image. Henrietta blossomed into a rose seemingly overnight and was only fourteen when she became enamored with Jafar…"
Okay cutting to the point... that's fine, get it over with.
"He was a decent ten years older, and of course I found their liking for one another, slightly alarming. We are protestant after all, and he of Arab faith and customs."
They turned with the winding path, passing underneath some archways, as Elijah went on conversationally. "But… the summer he spent with us that year had proven their love was more powerful than anything, and I agreed to their plans for marriage."
Jasmine felt her belly clench unwarranted, and took in the cool breeze that alleviated her flushed cheeks. She never knew Jafar had been engaged and it strangely made her upset. Elijah had no right to bring up this subject, and even though a foreigner, he would be proclaimed rude and incompetent in any culture, without excuse.
Though she didn't really want to know, Jasmine felt there was more Elijah had to say, and she preferred he get on with it sooner rather than later. "May I ask what happened."
"Jealousy, Queen Jasmine, is an ugly thing. Much like a disease it eats away at the flesh. Inside at first, where its unseen. But sooner or later, it disfigures the outer appearance, until all that's left is a rotting, putrid image."
They stopped walking, and faced each other, the tone turning subtly intense.
Make your point man without the analogies.
"All I know, is that when my Henrietta went to Agrabah with Jafar to announce their engagement, she shortly returned to England. Alone. And devastated. Whatever happened, had silenced her for nearly a year… and I thought she might die from heartache."
Jasmine's face paled slightly while a chill ran through her vertebrae. Jafar was always a monster. End of conversation.
Elijah remained stern as if Jasmine held the answer. As if she were the reason behind his daughter's failed engagement.
It too everything to not scoff, "Whatever happened… I wouldn't know... It – wasn't my fault,"
"Of course, not, silly girl, you were only a toddler at the time."
Jasmine huffed, folding her hands in front. So, what did he want from her then? Whatever happened in the past she clearly had no part of, yet everyone kept looking at her as if she had. Furthermore, this wasn't a competition between Jasmine and Ettie. This was her life, and she was growing tired of today's incessant rumors.
"Jafar deserves happiness, just as much as my daughter."
Jasmine pulled a face, mouth twisting in a confused frown, "How can you say that after what he did to Ettie?"
"I didn't say he did anything…"
Dander dulled to a small simmer, as Jasmine grew weak in the knees envisioning her mother being the one of whom Elijah spoke so poorly about. This was getting out of hand.
"We will be gone after tomorrow… but in fair notice, as a gentleman, I wanted to warn you, your majesty, that I will not let anything come between my daughter and her happiness, again."
Hold up, sir. Excuse me? "Is that a threat, Mr. Kingsley? …"
He topped his hat, and smirked, caterpillar moustache quirking, "Of course not, Queen Jasmine. I'd never threaten a woman."
Then he turned and headed back the way they'd come, chest puffed, with a satisfied grin on his face.
Jasmine held her stomach, repressing the conflicting emotions of today. This crap needed to stop, now. Allah knew how far these rumors spread across the world, and her mother's name would be tainted no more. And, at the very least, Jasmine might finally find out why Jafar was the prick that she knew. Only then would she attain some peace and possibly figure out how to survive her erratic husband. Maybe even be rid of him altogether. Ummah would be here tomorrow, and hopefully have some answers then. But the only other person to undoubtedly hold some shred of evidence, would be Jafar… Allah knew there must be countless secrets kept away in that private tower.
And what better time to search than now, when everyone was gathering for luncheon and tea.
This was the place that nightmares were created. Dark, chilly, and utterly empty. Much like Jafar's soul. Maybe that was how he had spent so many hours in a place like this. Personally, she wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible, and hopefully find what she was looking for the first time around. Coming back would prove most horrific.
Her own father, that sweet man, had been captive in this tower during the beginning stages of his illness. It felt like a lifetime ago when Razoul had told her of this place and she'd come in to try and rescue Hamed from the bed. Then, of course, Jafar had caught Jasmine and sent her out in a mess of tears.
Allah, how drastically times had changed. If he were to catch her now she wouldn't cry. She would punch him in the jaw.
That memory came with the reminder of their one-sided tiff – Jasmine had screamed for Jafar to never say her mother's name again. To which, Jafar had smirked and said that he had said Sultana's name a hundred times over – and she had screamed his for a thousand and one nights.
At the time, Jasmine assumed he was just being spiteful, saying whatever needed to devastate her. Never had she thought she'd be here again, this time seeking to find out if those accusations were true; and what sort of monstrosities lurked in the shadows of the past.
There were old books with plenty of dust on them, but nothing of suspicion, plus a painting on the wall of a snake devouring its prey. Other than making her cringe, Jasmine found it too of no value, and searched high and low the rest of the place. After what felt like an eternity, and still no answers, Jasmine grunted and stomped a foot crossing her arms.
Nothing could be easy, could it?
Then, just when she'd given up, Jasmine caught sight of an oversized book. It had the least amount of dust on it, and stuck out sort of odd. Maybe that was something? Thin fingers wrapped around the meaty cover and as she pulled on it, a clacking noise rang, and the hardcover became stuck at an angle. To her delight, and much needed luck, a square cutout in the floor appeared, and from it rose a large locked chest.
"Yes!" Jasmine shouted, pumping her fist in the air, before covering her mouth to take back the outburst. She pulled some pins from her hair, letting the bun fall loosely over her back, and worked the lock. "Please, Allah. I need to know. Don't stop me when I'm this close…"
While trying to think better, Jasmine stuck her tongue out, as the pins moved up and down within the lock. If only Aladdin were here damnit. This was one crime she would've been more than okay with him committing. Murmurs came from below the stairwell and outside of the secret wall. They were too faint for Jasmine to make out, but it quickened her pulse all the same; fingers trembling, dropping the hair pins in a fit of anxiety. Jasmine swore, picking them up and quickly working on the lock again. Her heartbeat reverberated at the back of her head when something clicked. The padlock fell open, and all of heaven seemed to sing out in exhilaration.
Jasmine hurriedly rummaged through the chest, vision blurry with the rapid speed of looking and tossing, looking and tossing. Jasmine came upon a pendant that bared striking resemblance to Iago. Curious. Come to think of it, she hadn't seen Iago since Jafar took over Agrabah.
"Huh…" Jasmine chewed her cheek turning the parrot in her hand, then shrugged tossing it back carelessly into the box. Stay on track, Jasmine. There were old clothes, some letters and scripts written in another language, but that was the gist of it. No golden snake ring, and no evidence of him ever being with her mother. Until finally, at the very bottom, there laid a small book. It was black leather with a golden cobra engraved on the cover, the edges of it lined in angular patterns of gold and red.
Giving a shrug and deciding aloud that it, "looks promising, enough," Jasmine swiftly withdrew it and shoved the manuscript inside her waistband; piling all the other things back inside, before clicking the lock in place. Once she pushed the secret lever back into position, the floor swallowed up the trunk, and resumed normalcy.
A small victory, however, she wasn't out of the woods yet.
The dungeon like door closed heavily behind, snuffing out the tower's light so she was in absolute nothingness. Jasmine trotted down the steps blindly, nearly smacking her face into the wall at the end. The door slid over just a smidge, and Jasmine peeked out into the empty den. When it was evident she was in the clear, Jasmine made way for her boudoir, dodging behind pillars, and bolting past open bedrooms doors. It felt like she had traveled across the entire Middle East when at last sanctuary came into view, and Jasmine went inside, locking herself within the small room as she pressed back into the frame to catch her breath.
That was kind of…fun! Jasmine grinned to herself, laughing quietly, as she looked over her victorious trophy. There was a clasp on it, and what looked like another damn lock. Ready to make work on it, a thumping came behind her head from someone striking on the door.
"Er – Who is it?"
No response.
"I – I'll be right there." Jasmine frantically searched the small room for a place to hide the book, and wrapped it in a thin blanket, before tossing it under the corner underneath the duvet. Wrinkles smoothed from her two-piece outfit as Jasmine patted herself over, attempting to look composed instead of sweaty and out of breath.
Another rap.
"I said I'm coming," the door swung open, and Cruella stood leaning at her full length in the archway.
"Well not yet you aren't darling, but give me a bit and I could make you come like never before."
Oh, sweet Allah.
Jasmine pulled a face, looking disturbed. Even after all those weeks in a brothel with ruffians and loose scandalous women, Jasmine still had yet to meet a human that could live up to the scathing abilities in which Cruella enacted daily. "Cruella… you're truly a piece of work."
Black and white frail hair was tossed from her cheek as Cruella spoke silkily, "I know darling, isn't it wonderful?"
"You do make my life more interesting, I'll give you that much."
"As do all great women, darling!"
The women locked arms and head towards the private room where tea and opium were usually distributed. Despite the gossip of today, Jasmine decided her luck was phenomenal. Jafar had been too busy to notice her absence this morning, she had stolen something from his private quarters, and still remained in the clear, seeing that everyone was settled in, drinking tea casually.
"Tell me, darling, what ever will you do without me when I'm gone?"
Jasmine smiled, and patted Cruella's thin hands as Jafar, sitting on a cushion, came into her line of sight, "Well, I won't be getting drunk anymore, that's one thing."
"Shame. Well… if you're ever in London, feel free to visit me. You're always welcome in my home, darling. Especially if you need a break from that fox of a husband…or if you end up killing him and need to take cover for a bit."
Jasmine gasped trying not to laugh, "Cruella!?"
"I'm only playing darling. … Sort of."
Cruella gave a cheeky kiss to Jasmine, as the two caught the eyes of those already seated. The men all sat on one side of the platters while Ettie, and apparently Jasmine and Cruella, would sit on the opposite side. Being between Ettie and Cruella wasn't exactly ideal, but Jasmine appreciated the fact she wasn't forced to sit at Jafar's right hand this time. The cushion was soft against her bottom, welcoming her tush as she snuggled in on it. Legs crossing Jasmine situated herself easily then pulled her hair back to keep it from falling into the platter of delicacies.
She avoided Jafar's eye contact for the first several minutes, not trusting herself to keep secret that she had just been sneaking around in a forbidden place. And… stealing. But after a while, and as her neck hurt from craning awkwardly to avoid him, Jasmine could handle it no longer and was forced to meet his questioning look. He gave a quirk of his brow and a twitch of the eye, and though subtle, it was obvious there laid a hundred demanding questions and threats in regards to where she was, how she escaped the bed, and why the fucking hell she was smiling like a guilty idiot.
Regardless of his anger, Jasmine smiled with persistence and found it a good idea to be cheeky – puckering her pink lips to send him an airy kiss. With that Jafar's nostrils flared as he exhaled forcefully and made an exasperated face. But, as she bit into a berry, Jasmine gave another sweet smile and it seemed to be enough to coat his irritation for the moment, and he let it drop.
When everyone was midway through tea and hors d'oeuvres, Jasmine innocently threw in a little number of her own to keep things interesting.
"By the way, husband, when I visited the people today, I purchased four large carts of bread, and also two barrels of fish to feed those most in need."
No one moved or breathed it seemed, including Jafar who remained frozen with irate shock.
Her lips were coated with grape juices as she sucked on one, uninterested, before continuing, "So we owe the merchants their money tomorrow. However, by the end of today would look best."
"Would it, indeed?" He growled through clenched teeth while she shrugged giving a nod.
As Cruella chimed in, moving the discussion other ways, the argument that could've unraveled, if Jafar and Jasmine had been alone, died down, and Jafar again, let it slide.
The rest of tea went on peacefully, most of it void of any political or debating topics. The women chatted lightly together, as did the men, occasionally crossing paths in their conversations when someone said something of peeked interest. At one point Jafar and Elijah mentioned they would be gone from the city for most of tomorrow for business; which Jasmine found wonderfully lucky news. That could maybe be an opportunity to get into the book, or rummage through his tower for more clues.
Though her spirits were bright, and hope was looking at an all-time high, Jasmine naturally found herself worrying about the other issues. Ummah and Vada were invited to stay here for a bit, unbeknownst to the Sultan. And everything Madam said, plus all that Elijah had voiced, were getting to her. Their words about her mother, and the man she now called husband, chewed on her heart all through the rest of the day; and even after dinner and during the entertainment of the palace performers.
During the show in the throne room, Ettie had sat awfully close to Jafar, on his left side of course, and the two had way more to talk about than Jasmine and Jafar did. Ettie laughed so much with Jafar over secret whispers, and inside jokes, and Elijah kept giving Jasmine the I-told-you-so look. More than rude, it was obnoxious, and Jasmine couldn't wait for them all to just get the hell gone, and go back to Europe. And if they liked Jafar that much, they could take him too for all she cared.
The night drew to a close shortly after, leaving Jasmine at Jafar's leisure, his hands clutching the small of her bare back as they went into their chambers. Massive doors closing them within.
"Loaves of bread, and fish…?"
Yup. She had been waiting for that to come. Sheesh. Imagine if he knew her plans to also move in two whores and undo all his dirty little secrets.
"Problem?" she bit dryly, undoing her headband so the locks fell freely around her face as she turned to him.
"Did you have fun playing savior for a day, little wife?"
"The stick…and the carrot. I recall you liking that ideology, and calling me… what was it –," He stepped further, removing his thobe in the way she was growing accustomed to. "– Perfect?"
Jafar towered her now so Jasmine's slender neck craned to meet him, his thick lashes coating the dark set eyes which looked upon her.
"What am I to do with you?" it came in a hushed strained tone as if he sincerely was at his end with her, and exasperated by her constant stubbornness and willpower.
Jasmine almost pitied him, while his musk flooded her senses making her head swim as he traced the lines of her young face.
"Take me to bed?" Jasmine breathed, figuring that lying with the man might be one way to calm her own tired vexation with him.
The rope cut into her wrists, but it didn't hurt, Jasmine rather liking the punishment Jafar prepared as he fastened the last knot. Trapping her to the headboard he made a comment that this time, she would not escape her fate so easily. His mouth found hers while undoing her top and slipping off her beige pants – for once, instead of ripping into her outfit – and before long, Jasmine was completely naked and at his mercy.
"Why don't you take off your clothes, Jafar?" She smirked, watching him pull himself free, still fully dressed in red and black clothing.
"Why aren't you naked more often, Jasmine?" He quipped, and gave a cheeky grin, that made her smile and then bite her lip as he placed himself between her thighs.
Her legs spread willingly for him, sliding her tiny feet down to massage his calves with her toes.
"That can be arranged. Perhaps, I'll walk around the palace that way too? Although, the other men may want me for themselves. I guess you'll have to be willing to share and play nice with the other children."
His excited eyes became blackened with wickedness and he let go of his member to crawl over her so his nose was pressed into her hair; the silk of his shirt grazing her hardened nipples. A tinge of excitement rang through her ears, making them buzz with heated eagerness as he bit into the shell of her ear, scraping sharp teeth down and onto her earlobe.
Elijah's words, and Ummah's, still rang in Jasmine's mind, screaming at her for what she was allowing. They could all go to hell though for all she cared. In this moment, she needed this; needed her fill, and the past could wait until later. For now, Jafar was a satisfying distraction from the trying day. Even more distracting was the shock that came when Jafar kissed her forehead and down the tip of her nose; as if kissing away her fears one peck at a time, making her short of breath and tingly all over. Then all too soon, Jafar stopped to meet her glossy eyes.
"Do I look, like the type of man to share what's his?"
And there it was. He ruined any form of sweetness with one phrase.
"I belong to no one, Jafar. Least of all, you."
She knew what that answer would get her, and when it came, her back arched as she hissed, baring teeth. Jafar's shaft an overwhelming presence that filled her entirely. Every thrust he made, she met; Jasmine's lower abdomen growing deliciously sore from the depth of his penetration. Her hands ached to touch him, to scratch his back, and she whined, panting and writhing beneath him. Jafar sucked on her breasts, and played with her swollen clit until her body gave out and Jasmine came, pulling on the ropes until they burned against her delicate wrists; Jafar's violent release following shortly after. The Sultan collapsed on top of Jasmine and both laid for a moment; trembling and fighting to slow their frantic breaths.
"You will always belong to me, little mouse." He taunted, when able, taking her jaw in his hands.
It struck a blaze and Jasmine lunged out and bit his lip, taking the bottom one under her teeth roughly. Jafar groaned and smiled wickedly under her control, loving the way she was unpredictably sexy, challenging and powerful. The bite turned into a sucking motion, making his lip swollen and plump by the time she released him; her saliva leaving a glossy sheen behind. Jafar sucked his lower lip into his mouth to relish in the taste of her, then growled, seizing her possessively until Jasmine was left breathless and dizzy.
"My, pussy cat," he purred then kissed her once more before drawing a knife and cutting her free.
"If I'm yours, maybe you should brand me so there will be no room for debate." The words tumbled out faster than her brain could catch up with. But they'd come out all the same and Jafar caught every word.
As the bondages fell loosely from her skin, Jasmine pulled her arms down and into her sides, rubbing away the red marks as she avoided Jafar's horror struck face.
"What, was that?" he gave warning and she looked over at him innocently, raising a bare shoulder.
"Did I say something wrong?"
His mouth pressed into a flat line as he grew ever-threatening. Even on his knees Jafar was omnipotent, but Jasmine remained undeterred.
He looked like a lion on the prowl, fists digging into the mattress as he watched her with wild eyes. "What else did you do in the streets today?" It poured out calm and smooth, but there was so much hatred laced deep within and the sound pooled in Jasmine's belly like vinegar.
Her skin pricked as the hairs on her arms rose and the left eye gave a twitch, as Jasmine tried to conjure up some fib in her mind. But lying, as always, was not her strong suit. It made her gut twist and body do odd things which always gave the truth away. If she dared to speak one word of a lie, her voice would split and it would all come undone, right here; then Jasmine would never get the answers she desperately needed.
"I'm tired."
There. That was a truth.
Jafar snorted through his nostrils, and Jasmine pulled the sheets to her chest and rolled over, closing her eyes praying that he would leave her alone. After a few moments, she felt him get out of bed, and pour some wine before taking a seat at his desk.
He could be watching her. Could be holding a dagger in his hand plotting when to slit her throat. It was unbearable not turning around but Jasmine managed, finding herself drifting off into busy dreams. What she had said, had come out on accident. That little stunt could very well cost her everything, and with the truth so close at hand, the thought of losing the advantage was enough to make her heart cramp.
People were speaking poorly of her mother, clearly not just in Agrabah, yet she seemed to be the only one out of the loop. Well, father too probably. Once Jafar and Elijah left tomorrow, Jasmine planned to crack into the book and be done with this entire mess. If Allah was gracious there would be enough damning evidence to clear Sultana's name and unravel the web of dysfunction that constantly entrapped her. Jasmine only hoped that when it all came crashing down, she wouldn't drown with the tide.