It licked the base at first like a hungry cub from a teat, gentle and playfully lapping. Then, in a fit of passion, the flames wound like a mighty serpent, lashing out in devouring spools of fire and smoke; charcoaling the structures into blackened ash. Within moments Agrabah was ablaze for miles, flames leaping in orange and red waves from one wooden structure to the next, while clay homes were sparked from within, their darkened silhouettes suddenly part of the conflagration. Followed in the wake of cackling flames were the panicked shrieks of Arabs, the flames' ravenous appetite devouring everything and everyone in its monstrous path. There were so many shrills, jumbled heartbroken pleas, that went unheeded. Fear thick in the air as it rose with noxious clouds of smoke, blotting the pale blue sky until everything was grey.
Grey and hellishly illuminated.
Earlier that morning…
Having fallen asleep at his desk, Jafar never came to bed. When Jasmine noticed, it had been early hours of morning as she watched from her pillow. Half dead flickers of fire gave meager light to the room. Her husband's head was slouched over, mouth frowning as intertwined fingers rested in front and elbows were cocked out on the arms of the chair. It looked horribly uncomfortable and Jasmine held her breath for a moment before concluding he was indeed asleep.
This was their second night together as a lawfully bound couple, yet he still hadn't slept next to her in bed; a fact that troubled her slightly. He preferred his chair and a neck ache to lying with Jasmine, and she couldn't help but take slight offense. She didn't like the man after all, and wouldn't protest to his choice of distance, but the action made her seem undesired, or icky somehow. Like she was the one to be fearful of.
Still, Jasmine wondered if waking him to come lie down wasn't a bad idea. If her being there was so off putting, she would be more than obliged to sleep in her old room. But when Jasmine went to move fear took over and she thought better of it. They hadn't left off on good terms that night, or any other night to be fair, and with Jasmine's slip up about branding, it deemed unwise to poke a sleeping beast. Jafar needed space from her, for whatever reason. Had given a disgusted, yet almost hurt, look when she said what she had. Maybe this was better.
So, the Queen rolled on her back and sighed, closing her tired eyes. But, despite the fact that there were plenty of hours left until morning, Jasmine could not quiet her mind. It worked double time keeping her wide awake even while snuggled in a comfy bed. Jasmine squirmed against the sheets trying to get more settled and realized her nakedness. Ever so quietly, Jasmine rose, slipped past the sleeping man, and opened the wardrobe. She found a black robe of sorts, and fastened it over her small frame. It was overly large and clearly his, but it felt less vulnerable to have something on. Then, crawling gently back under the sheets, Jasmine laid muted, watching the lines of the canopy's red fabric.
Counting Alibaba's treasure in her mind didn't work. Deep breathing while pretending to be asleep hadn't worked either. It was so quiet it was loud. She couldn't even hear Jafar breathing from where he slept. Momentarily she'd wondered if he'd died and raised her head to look over; only finding him sound asleep, broad chest rising and falling steadily as he remained in that horrible position.
Jasmine twiddled her thumbs on her stomach, and instead decided to think over what the new day would bring. Jafar and Elijah would leave around sunrise and be gone all day.
Elijah. Elijah and the warning about Ettie and Jafar being in love. Ettie and Jafar having an affair. Ettie and Jafar having a baby. Getting married. "All hail Queen Ettie!"
Jasmine rubbed her eyes as the thoughts got rapidly out of hand, then sighed dramatically, trying to start over.
Okay… new day. Elijah and Jafar won't be back until sundown. That's enough time to get into the book and search more thoroughly in his private quarters. Allah knows there may even be more secret passageways to be discovered. Then, in the afternoon Ummah and Vada will come stay here for a bit…
Ummah. Ummah and the burn from the snake ring. The snake ring and Jafar. The snake ring, Jafar and Sultana. Jafar, Sultana, Ummah, and a dozen other women fucking! Oh, Allah make it stop!
"What the hell!" her whisper came out like a clanging of tambourines and she covered her face entirely, commanding both brain and mouth to shut up.
But with lids closed the vividness of her imagination became all the more real.
There was a young Jafar in the back of her eyes, strong, tall, with amazing hair, and naked. Butt ass naked. And her mother, too. Their bodies were writhing together, with horrible pleasure filled expressions. And as the panel zoomed out Ettie was there also, as were countless other women; with more breasts and cunts and asses than Jasmine would ever care to see in a lifetime, and Jafar was smiling. Smiling wickedly with a boyish manner and as Jafar screwed the Sultana, he looked straight at Jasmine and mouthed, "you're next."
Jasmine audibly groaned, hands leaving her panged face as she brought the covers up overhead to snuff out the world and over active mind. The visions were still there though causing a trembling belly and a sickness that spread to her soul. She needed water, or fresh air perhaps, but for Allah's sake she couldn't keep laying in this damn bed, near a man, who may or may not have, done everything she'd just envisioned. The covers flung off with force as Jasmine gave the heavy blankets a toss, and swung her feet over the tall bed. Upon standing, she hugged the large robe to her bodice, then turned around and gave a shriek, Jafar sitting straight up, eyes wide as he watched her.
Shakily, the girl tried to state the need of water, but Jafar gave no response past rolling his neck to the side with an ominously dead stare. Jasmine didn't know what that look meant – nor most of the looks he gave – but found it unnecessary to find out, and crawled back into bed and turned away from him. Her quiet little outbursts must've woken him and Jasmine kicked herself for it, now forced to lay motionless. Jafar didn't move from his spot, nor did Jasmine, herself, twitch a muscle. Even when her leg itched, she'd ignored the stinging tickling of her calf, too afraid of who might be watching. It nearly drove Jasmine mad to remain in such an unyielding form the rest of the night. To make it more torturous, sleep alluded her worse than ever while images of before played on repeat.
When Jafar finally got up and dressed, Jasmine relaxed, closing her lids briefly only to have them shattered open once more; Jafar commanding she get up for breakfast and see him and Elijah off.
Normally there would have been a protest or large ordeal, albeit the offer was more than merciful compared to how she'd spent the last several hours, and Jasmine jumped up eagerly and moved past Jafar as he slipped on his shoes from the duvet. She hadn't acknowledged him though and dressed in a corner with her back turned, hurriedly slipping into tanned harem pants and a black top, which revealed her lithe stomach, and had long chiffon sleeves. If Jafar disliked her standoffish behavior, he never said so.
Even at breakfast Jasmine remained silent, never so much as looking up from the black coffee. She wasn't hungry this early in the morning – the sun itself had barely started to awake – but the group's small chatter and the sweet smells of bread and tea were enjoyable. Plus, the talk about the day's journey and business meant she didn't need to speak with or look at Jafar once; a thankful bit of luck. Images of the daydream were rather vibrant at the moment and if Jasmine were to interact with him so soon, she might very well hurl.
Cruella and Tobias had never come down for breakfast, so weren't expected to be out here this early in the morning either, leaving only Henrietta and the Queen to see off the two men. Crisp morning breeze bit through Jasmine's thin clothing, but it felt rather nice. Ettie threw her arms over Jafar's neck and he awkwardly stiffened, barely patting her back as he stepped away from the informal, and clearly unwanted, affection, Jafar coming next to bid Jasmine farewell.
"I'll be back this evening, alright?"
Jasmine didn't look at him but nodded once.
"Stay inside the palace today, the streets are no place for a respectable Queen…do you understand me little one?"
Though he sounded dangerous Jasmine kept silent, watching the first hairs of sunrise in the east. From the corner of her eye, Elijah and his daughter were embracing and speaking hushed, while Jafar searched Jasmine's face a moment longer.
When Jafar's wife still looked past, he bent to kiss her mouth, but she turned away, forcing his lips to meet with her cheek instead. Jasmine's eyes closed briefly at the contact; Jafar pulling away slowly, barely catching her reaction in the process.
Such blunt denial evidently angered Jafar. Had they been alone he might've gripped her cheeks and forced his tongue down her throat; but other than a twitch of the eye, his fury was masked with a calm demeanor, and he turned to mount a large black horse.
Earlier Jasmine had noted that Jafar wore a red shirt and bottoms today, while his thobe was white, with red and gold trimming, ensembled with a white turban and gold feather. Though Jasmine remained interested in the horizon, Jafar's appearance was clearly elegant and screamed royalty. For once though, Jasmine felt no attraction or lust. He may dress like a sultan, but more than ever all Jasmine saw was a manipulative, lying sack of crap. A deviant villain, a sadistic controlling monster, and last but not least, an adulterer and whoremonger.
Jafar and her were married. It was a contract, nothing more. Jafar had also been fucking her now too, and though he gave her mind-blowing orgasms, she was woman enough to call this what it was. Loveless, emotionless, meaningless. Those visions she'd had were all too real and even if she never found out the full truth about the past, Jasmine was rather sure that she already knew most the answers. Therefore, Jasmine had to suppress any insipid fantasy that Jafar could be capable of anything more than pain. Blocking him out entirely seemed only best. It would make the upcoming truths less painful.
Ettie blew kisses fervently and waved with a handkerchief, obviously enamored with love for her father… and Jafar. Jasmine wished Ettie would leave with them and all three to never come back again.
Despite her apparent abhorring, no amount of stubbornness deterred Jafar's eyes from boring into his wife like daggers. Elijah had already started to trot off, but Jafar remained firm, and it sent an uncontrollable chill through his target. She rubbed the backs of her arms as if cold, pretending to be unaware of the powerful man inches away.
Jafar clenched the reigns ever tighter as Jasmine ignored him. He glared down at the girl, willing her with his mind to turn and face him. To acknowledge him in whatever way necessary. Even if that meant she cursed and spat at his feet. Anything but this pathetic childish act. But after a moment, when Jasmine still refused to bend to his unspoken command, Jafar hollered with a deep growl, "Ha," and dug his heels into the horse, causing the steed to rear up and take off after Elijah.
Jasmine flinched at the sudden shout amongst the calm morning, but that was the extent of it. Then turned for home, never looking back to see that Jafar had paused one last time to watch after her, before ultimately catching up to Elijah and disappearing into the desert.
Before Jasmine could make it to the boudoir dozens of male servants were carrying furniture, clothing and bedding out of the Sultan's Main chambers, while moving new items within – Jafar's and Jasmine's. She had forgotten today Baba was being moved into a new room so she, and her husband, could finally have the master bedroom. Having been rather caught up with everyone else, and trying to be an empowering Queen, she had nearly forgotten about Hamed. Jasmine cursed herself as a scampering pattern of guilt ran over her skin; making way towards the opposite palace wing.
"Drink up Baba," Jasmine said, lifting a large spoon to Hamed's tight lips, her father shakily complying as he slurped the dark fluid.
"At least he's eating today," The royal doctor, Tabiib, stated, packing up his utensils, "He's better every day it seems."
"That's good, right? I mean, whatever ailed him is over with?"
He gave a thoughtful nod but looked unsure – which didn't help to ease Jasmine's worries.
"Whatever it was that caused this is passed from his system now," Tabiib closed up a bag.
Jasmine's smile at her sleepy father fell, replaced with an upset one directed towards the tall elderly man.
"Out of his system? Like…the sickness is, or – something that caused it?"
The physician held up a hand and shook his head as if out of his element to recite suspicions about Hamed's condition. "All I'm saying my Queen is that whatever had debilitated your father had done so at an increasing and very damaging rate… but now, it's as if its slowly unwinding. Which in normal cases would be rare…He's even gotten some speech back, though he still seems disoriented and may have loss of memory."
The half-eaten soup was set aside as Hamed began drifting off.
"Do you think…" Jasmine swallowed dryly looking up, "Are you saying someone could've done this to him?"
The physician smiled painfully and shrugged, "N – No. There's nothing to worry about now anyways."
Jasmine chewed her cheek feeling the doctor had more to say, but let the issue drop for now.
"He's alive, and well…that's all I ever wanted." She whispered, lifting the now sleeping man's plump hand to her lips.
After a few more minutes Tabiib excused himself, saying he had to leave this afternoon to a neighboring city. The queen thanked him as always, telling him to take some food from Geraldine for his travel and then left Hamed as well, having a servant, Hisham, to remain at his bedside.
Jasmine made way from her father's chambers. Though it was difficult to leave him, yet again, Jasmine knew he was safe; she'd just need to make a better habit of checking in on him daily. Other than the guilt there was something else gnawing her. Particularly the way Tabiib looked when speaking about his patient. For the faintest of moments, she'd wondered if Jafar had any part of what went wrong with Baba. But shook it away figuring that was reaching a little too far and she couldn't digest more accusations than were already on her plate.
Speaking of accusations…
She strolled through the hallways at a rather quick pace, nodding to a few servants and guards. Though she knew Jafar wouldn't return until that evening, the fear of being caught breaking into his private items made her belly twist in an odd way; making the matter feel urgent.
But, just as the private room came into sight, so did a mass of curled light hair and pair of blue eyes.
Ettie. Perfected timing…
"Your majesty," the woman gave a small bow before rising back up, her height just an inch taller than Jasmine's.
Queen Jasmine politely nodded and went to pass, but Ettie cleared her throat with a hopeful gaze, making Jasmine step back again; the younger woman forcing down the look of exasperation.
"Please, forgive me, Queen Jasmine, I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Ettie smiled sweetly without a hint of falsities.
Jasmine inhaled with a smile of her own.
"Not at all Miss Kingsley."
"Henrietta, Please."
Jasmine folded her hands giving a single nod, "Henrietta."
Henrietta shifted from foot to foot, taking hold of the thick billowy green dress she wore, "I'll get right to the point. Queen Jasmine, my father told me of his conversation with you yesterday before tea. "
Jasmine's smile dimmed. Though Elijah was one of many unpleasant conversations lately, Jasmine tried to remain polite and forget it. It wasn't Ettie's fault she had been engaged to Jafar when she was Jasmine's age. With that in mind, Jasmine tried not to judge Ettie too harshly. Instead wanting to have compassion for what the woman went through ten years earlier.
"He should never have done what he did, and I sincerely want to apologize for whatever he told you." Henrietta paused angling her face in question as to how much Elijah had said.
Nonetheless, Jasmine didn't give any details, just a light scoff and shrug.
"He's your father. I understand, he had your best interests at heart."
The blonde woman gave a vicious nod knocking loose some fly away hairs around her temple. "I suppose…"
"Well, no harm done. Enjoy your afternoon, Miss Henrietta," Jasmine stepped past just wanting to be done with this awkward exchange and get to that blasted book. After a few steps, however, a delicate hand skimmed Jasmine's elbow making her turn around.
"I – um... I also wanted to apologize for my own behavior."
Jasmine pulled a face, "You've done nothing wrong Henrietta. No apologies necessary."
Other than clinging to my husband and kissing him at our wedding. But seriously…It's the last thing on my mind right now.
"But I have. I – I came here because my father, but my intentions were selfish." She shrugged, "You know how it is, when you love someone."
Jasmine's soft expression conflicted with surprise and confusion.
Are we talking about your father still or…?
Henrietta bashfully gleamed, looking at the polished floor and back up, though she avoided direct eye contact. "Does it ever go away?" She spoke with sadness.
"Does, what, ever –."
"Love," The blonde woman interrupted in a gentle voice, but it was broken.
What the hell did Jasmine know about love? She had only been in love once, or maybe only imagined it. But love seemed to get people killed. Seemed to make everyone miserable, confused, and inevitably alone in the end. Clearly Henrietta was referencing feelings for Jafar, but Jasmine didn't feel jealous by it. How could she? She didn't love Jafar. And he didn't love her.
"I don't know Henrietta…Maybe never. Not entirely – At least until a new love comes into our lives, and shows us we're allowed to move on. To love another…even if we never forget our first."
It was probably all wrong, but had sounded right, and Henrietta seemed to chew on the bitter sweet words. Jasmine smiled pleasantly then excused herself to the boudoir, but was frozen mid stride with the sound of shattered glass coming from the streets.
After another wave of chaos rang up through the windows, Jasmine and Henrietta raced towards the sill; both paling at the wave of blazing fires as people ran or fell out of buildings, some screaming as their clothes were in flames and they tried to roll in the dirt packed roads. Jasmine pushed away from the wall and raced down the corridor thinking only of her people and nothing more.
Henrietta chased after, trying to keep up as much as possible while holding her gown. She called after Jasmine but Jasmine pressed on, rushing down the stairs, and shouting for all guards to come to her aid. Within moments dozens of burly men in vests had swords drawn and were following their queen out the palace doors, and through the gates.
Outside, Henrietta caught up, bumping into Jasmine who had become rooted in shock at the wicked flames in the square, leading down through the marketplace. Untamed blazes spreading from wooden structures and crumbling the clay domes from the inside out.
When Jasmine swallowed the dry taste in her mouth, she accepted reality and started to run again when Ettie grabbed her by the arm.
"Queen Jasmine no! This isn't for a Queen to handle, let the men! You'll get hurt, or worse."
"I have to help my people!"
"Your Majesty no, this is their problem. Not the royals. Don't go out there, you will get killed!"
Jasmine undid Ettie's claws with fervor, throwing the woman's pale hand from her.
"My people are my problem."
With that Jasmine turned again and commanded a sword from a nearby guard. He tossed it to her, and she caught it awkwardly at first, then found the weight comforting as she raced through the scourging frenzy and towards the heart of it all. And the brothel.
Ettie horror struck, watched for a moment at the chaos, when a masked man in black and blue charged at her, and she shrieked and ran back inside, the gates closed hiding her behind the walls.
When finally reaching the brothel, Vada stumbled out grasping a left eye with blood gushing through closed fingers and Jasmine caught the woman in her arms.
"Oh my – Help! I need help over here!"
Agrabah was now an insurmountable pit of lunacy. An uproar of mayhem with blood, fire, and endless screams. Buildings coming down while ash and smoke clouded the air in billowing plumes. Vada didn't scream though, or cry, and Jasmine assumed she to be in shock. Let me see, Jasmine pulled the woman's hands away, and instantly regretted the choice now seeing why Vada had been holding her face. The prostitute had been trying to keep an eyeball in its socket, but it dangled by veins from the empty pit, and Jasmine heaved, gagging as she looked away and shakily called out for help again.
"Vada," Jasmine shivered, still not looking at the woman but rubbing her back as if to sooth her, "Where is Ummah. Did ummah get out?"
But Vada didn't respond. Vada did nothing, and Jasmine handed her off to some random face before entering the brothel; forgetting she'd given her sword to a woman with a child.
Jasmine's eyes and throat burned as she made way in the building. The outside chaos muffled into blurred sounds as the growling belly of fiery walls consumed the surrounding air. Her vision blurred, bare skin smoldering from blistering waves of heat. The fibers of her outfit searing within Jasmine's pores as she delved deeper.
"Ummah!" Jasmine screamed finding her throat burning and hoarse. A piece of the top floor caved in mere feet from where the queen stood and she shielded her face with the crook of her arm. Red sparks ignited, rising in the air like a cluster of fireflies, then paled into ash, tumbling back to the floor.
"Ummah!" She hollered again, this time more frantically, "Ummah!" her voice broke into a fit of shrill coughing, her chest burning and suddenly heavy with debris and combustion. Suddenly, a lump caught her eye near where the bar might've been, the figure disoriented through ripples of rising heat. Jasmine gasped and dove in, coughing deeply as nausea overtook her, and Jasmine hurled a little on the floor. She needed a minute to compose herself, but had none so resumed to stumble forward, finding Ummah unconscious and trapped beneath several beams and pieces of rubble.
"Oh Allah, please." She whispered brokenly at first then spoke as loud as possible, "Hold on Ummah! I'll get you out of here!"
Jasmine gave a guttural cry when placing her shoulder blades under the beam, and dug deep into her heels to lift the massive weight, the splintering wood cutting into her soft exposed flesh. Ummah coughed faintly, turning a cherry red face towards the girl.
"No…" it was barely audible as hissing flames lashed out angrily, reminding them time was running out.
Yeah, no is right! Jasmine couldn't give up that easily. Ummah was dying, so many were. Vada probably too. Ummah said this would happen, that Dracul's former gang would come and destroy her and all she had. It couldn't be coincidence this was happening the very next day. This was all Jasmine's fault. She should've never come here to begin with. Should've never let Jafar kill Dracul, or Ummah and Vada stay here another night. All the things Jasmine thought of that she should've done differently plagued her heart and she refused to let go of Ummah without a fight.
What sort of Queen would run away and cower? Not the mother of this nation. Not the advocate or friend or woman she was determined to be. Jasmine dug her back deeper into the wood and clenched her teeth so hard it felt they might shatter.
"No, stupid child – go!" Ummah swatted airily with the only free arm.
After a third and useless attempt to remove the weight, Jasmine fell on her knees, the fabric tearing around her caps amongst the rubble. Jasmine crawled hands and knees to Ummah, and tears fell form the Queen's face.
"I'm not giving up woman! So, shut up and help me lift!"
Both women cried out deeply as they gave all they had together to hoist the impeccable weight. Again, it refused to budge and Jasmine screamed at the thing punching the debris before grabbing Ummahs hand, resorting to pull Ummah out from under it. But Ummah shrieked in ghastly pain.
"My leg is caught – fucking damnit, Jasmine stop!" Ummah hacked rapidly as Jasmine fell back down to join in a fit of coughing. Jasmines eyes were burning, yet went wide upon witnessing a blackish phlegm come from Ummah's mouth.
"It's – my time," Ummah's face had blisters on it, and her eyes were swollen and red. With one last effort Ummah ripped a necklace from the folds of her neck and forced it into Jasmine's palms, "Hers."
Jasmine hacked and felt the world crumble around her, as the walls caved, and Jasmine wanted to give up, turning over the pendant necklace in her hand. Suddenly, a pair of strong arms were around Jasmine's waist, and dragging her from the crumbling structure.
"No!" came and inhumane screech. The last thing Jasmine seen was Ummah being crushed underneath fallen wreckage, before being tossed into the dirt packed road. Jasmine's rescuer vanished from sight before she even sat up.
Jasmine gasped for air, finding the lack of oxygen unbearable, lungs drying with starvation. She clenched the necklace thoughtlessly, and dizzied, trying to focus in on the rapid moving shadows, shapes of people, smoke and animals squealing, running about. It all looked the same for a moment, all dark and relentless.
There were guards and peasants frantically sprinting about, hollering, shouting. Women screaming and crying. Children bellowing at the top of their lungs, while men ran futility from the well to throw buckets of water on the burning ambers.
Jasmine toppled over once, but got up again, shuffling to her feet as she messily went forward, spotting a little girl in the middle of the street holding a doll as tears flooded over her dirtied face. The toddler screamed, frozen stiff where she stood, and Jasmine reached the girl, falling to her knees as she took the child in her arms. The baby's hollering muffled as Jasmine pressed her soot covered bosom into the child, patting wild hair and holding her close as if she were her own.
"Shh – Shh little one." Jasmine calmed, but the smallest whisper wreaked havoc on her throat and Jasmine was afraid she too would break down crying. Jasmine peered about the overcrowded streets for a woman or father looking for a lost child. But instead of finding a grieving parent, Jasmine was met with a stampeded of men on horseback, their blue and black uniforms looking gravely familiar; their ominous features accented by the way their dark eyes were revealed through veiled faces.
A man ushered his steed to step out ahead, indicating he was the leader of the pack, and Jasmine shakily looked up as he revealed his face. He was pale, much paler than even the Kingsley's and had a massive scar on the left side. When he smiled, it sent spiked pricks down her spine one vertebrae at a time, both his canines golden and sharp like razors.
"Lookey here men, a desert flower in full bloom. And I've just the tool to pluck it," he made a kissing motion to Jasmine and the men chuckled in scattered noises.
Fires raged on, but had quieted a little now, the firmer structures of clay pausing the spread as commoners worked still, tossing water and dirt.
"What do you want!" Jasmine rang out raggedly, coughing at the ashen burn of her throat.
"You'll do nicely," the brute said pointing a jagged sword in her direction, when Razoul and several other guards stood in front of the Queen, their own weapons forthright.
"You dare to speak to our Queen that way!? To ransack our city!? Get off the horse coward – and fight like a real man!" Razoul barked, hiding his own injuries as he took a warrior's stance.
But the man just chided throatily, looking back at his gaggle of men and down again at the captain of the guards.
Jasmine stood now, finding strength renewed, no matter how meager, and pushed past the brawny men that covered her like a shield. The little girl followed behind Jasmine, and was trembling though silent.
"Who are you that you would seek to declare war on my city. On the innocent lives of my people!?" She was furious and couldn't still the shaking of her voice.
The man gleamed wickedly and gave a two-finger wave at the child behind the Queen. The toddler whimpered and ducked back behind Jasmine's legs.
"Your highness, the Queen," he bowed his head mockingly flashing another smile. "I am a ruler myself." He chortled, "The King of Thieves!" He proudly announced and there were echoes from the gang as they prided their title.
Yup. No coincidence at all. Ummah said this would happen…but Jasmine hadn't taken it seriously. Hadn't told Jafar about it afraid he'd be angry with her. Now more than ever Jasmine owned this as her own doing, and the lives lost from this would forever stain her hands.
"Rahman…" she managed unable to think clear on anything else in such a shattered state, "The boy that came to you about Dracul…Where is he?"
The king of thieves cackled gruffly finding humor to whatever Jasmine said, and he made a squeaking noise with his tongue against his dirtied teeth.
"I demand – you tell me where he is!" Her voice cracked from rage and pain. But despite her harshest look and the numerous gathering guards, the brute shrugged and gave a signal with his hand, covering his face again as the gang rallied around the city once in unison, before exiting altogether, disappearing from the city.
The crying and crumbling of charcoaled wood took residence again. Jasmine's eyes burned despite the flood of tears that came as she blinked, begging her quivering body to still. A calloused paw reached out though she could hardly hear Razoul's advice for her to go inside the palace. That she didn't belong out here and it was too dangerous.
Jasmine reentered reality at the tugging of her pants, causing her to scoop up the little child. The babe wrapped stubby legs and arms around her rescuer while laying down on Jasmine's shoulder. It came as second nature, though Jasmine had never held a child before; hand cradling the back of the girl's tiny head in comfort, as a forearm supporting her bottom. Jasmine spoke shakily to Razoul.
"Razoul…I will not be told again where my place is. Do you understand?"
He nodded and sheathed his sword waiting for orders.
Jasmine looked around hazily, biting back the tears that threatened to spill over.
"We need to find survivors and help the injured. The physician should still be in the palace, and there is an alchemist or someone with herbs for breathing... or wounds."
Razoul nodded mentally taking note of everything needed.
"W-We need…water. And blankets. Food and a place to tend to the injured, and whatever other supplies you can get."
He opened his mouth but shut it quickly at the look she gave.
"Yes, my Queen. Say no more, the guards and I will get all we can from the palace...?" He repeated as more of a question than a confident statement. After Jasmine nodded exhaustedly though, Razoul knew he'd understood correctly, and set off, barking orders, and heading to find supplies. Jasmine rocked the little girl as her tears freely fell and landed atop the mass of unruly brown hair.
Jasmine…
It came so faint Jafar didn't know if he had actually said her name or merely thought it, all senses dulled upon viewing billows of black smoke and dull flames from a distance. It was barely evening, but it looked like a starless midnight sky, and before he could think, Jafar reacted. Ramming his steed in the side Jafar rode hard across the barren plains and towards Agrabah, never slowing the animal until he had found the heart of his city. All the usual vibrant colors had blackened, buildings crumbled or burnt out into nothingness while ash flittered like dirty flakes of snow, infesting the air. Elijah had fallen far behind but Jafar forgotten the man altogether the instant Agrabah's chaos had come into view.
His regal form stiffened, heart slowing in shallow beats as the panting horse trotted through wreckage and filthy broken peasants. Whoever had done this Jafar would slice from head to toe and flay their skin. But before Jafar could think further on what'd happened in his absence, he had caught and lost his breath all at once when the familiarity of an angelic voice sounded above all the other noises.
There's no way in hell…Surely that woman was not so stupid to disobey me. Again.
Quickly spotting her in the square, Jasmine was seated in a setup of pillars and some floor boards, as injured laid on cots or the wooden ground; Countless vague faces coughing, crying softly, or seemingly dead. Though she faced his direction, Jasmine hadn't seen Jafar approaching; her attention solely on a tiny child in her lap.
The horse came a few feet closer, and from there Jafar saw his queen was covered in grime and blood; her clothes torn and hair disheveled with a thick layer of soot and sweat. As she proceeded to give the toddler a drink of water and a kiss atop her curly head, the sight sent a sharp pang through his core, forcing him to act impulsively without consent. Jafar dismounted, rushing through the jumble and across the makeshift structure with pulse throbbing in his head.
Then, Jafar fell to his knees before his wife.
The sudden appearance jolted Jasmine and the little girl. Jasmine blinked at the man once, frightful eyes full of worry and confusion. In her pupils Jafar saw his own ashen reflection and noticed he too looked just as terrified and panicked; and he fought for control over the forbidden emotions.
However, when he tried to yell, or scream at her for disobeying him, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and nothing came out. The moments passed painfully slow as neither made a move, then, the estranged silence was broken by the woman.
"Nivea… honey."
Jafar looked down to the child in Jasmine's lap then again to his wife who spoke solely to the girl.
"This is the Sultan, sweetie. He's not going to hurt you."
No, I won't. But you, my dear, are not out of the clear.
Jasmine gave a cracked smile and Jafar grimaced lightly, noticing blood on her split lip.
"I'm going to speak with him, alright? I'll be back, don't be afraid – Oh." Jasmine choked back shaken emotions as Nivea wrapped short arms around her neck, returning the child's embrace before breaking it off.
The sight might've warmed lesser men, but for Jafar he merely found the affections between the two chilling. It reminded him how he too had clung to Jasmine's neck before. Only he had wrung it until she'd soiled herself and nearly died. Amidst all that had happened today Jafar did not care for the brutal reminder.
"I'll take the lass," Geraldine appeared out of nowhere to scoop the hesitant child in her strong arms. But the chef's smile fell into a scowl as she looked down on the Sultan, "Where she will be safe from harm," then stuck her nose in the air, turning away with the babe.
The Sultan darkened at the audacity of the beefy Irishwoman. I have a pair of shackles in the dungeon I would love to introduce you to, woman.
But before he could act on it, Jasmine touched Jafar's shoulder lightly, causing him to become painfully aware of the degrading position on his knees. Why had he done such a humiliating thing to begin with? He rose and followed after the little woman before catching up to take her by the arm and force them further away from the crowd.
Jasmine's mouth opened to speak but he didn't want to talk. Not yet.
Instead, Jafar clumsily ravaged Jasmine's body, possessively and frantically searching her from head to toe. She'd appeared well enough from a glance, but he'd leave no inch untouched. The Sultan forced Jasmine to look down as he checked her scalp, temples, eyes, neck, chest, belly and thighs. It wasn't sexual in the least, but it seemed to make Jasmine gasp with a slight blush.
"I'm fine," she whispered hoarsely still finding her throat scorched. Then her argument dissipated when Jafar's hands found her back and she jumped giving a pained groan of pure agony as her eyes tightened.
Jafar paled and guided her to turn around so her back faced him.
He lost his breath and she heard it.
"W – what is it? I'm fine, Jafar –."
"– No, you're not." He hissed more angrily than intended.
There were large gashes all over her back, one of them rather deep by the looks of it, and on her shoulders too, along with burns and splinters.
Jafar walked around to her front, never easing the intensity of his raging gaze. He took her hands as gently as possible, barely touching the skin to turn them palms up, the backs of her hands resting in his own. She had blisters and red sores there as well. The sight forcing his nostrils flare.
I should never have left. Check that, Jasmine never should've disobeyed me!
This ordeal was beyond outrageous and any means of punishment he planned to unleash upon her would be justifiable. Albeit once more, despite himself, Jafar couldn't yell at her. Couldn't smack the girl or lash out. She was shaking and looking up at him with a glossy, doe-eyed, expression. To make things more deplorable, a deep weakness counseled Jafar to kiss away her tear streaked face and carry her off in his arms back to safety. Back towards home where no one and nothing could ever harm Jasmine again.
"You…" Jafar grit his teeth, unable to spew anything other than blackened tar from his heart, "Stupid, foolish, little girl!"
Jasmine withdrew tender hands defiantly but was unable to keep the hurt from her eyes.
"I told you to stay inside the palace! Inside, Jasmine! Where you belong!"
"Someone had to be here for them…Someone had to look after Agrabah!"
He ignored the statement and straightened, looking past as if she were beneath him. But in reality, he couldn't handle her desperate eyes which told him he had failed as a ruler…and a husband.
"Go. Home. Mouse. No one needs you. Take my horse and –."
"You're worthless," she interrupted bitterly, looking more defiant than ever. Jafar huffed angrily unable to avoid her any longer. "But hey," Jasmine took a step back rising wounded hands, "I've learned to never expect anything more than what you're capable of. Which is usually nothing."
She spun away to head back to the work she'd begun, and Jafar went to stop her. The massive hand landing on her bare shoulder forced her to cry out at the pain shooting through her body at his touch. As he came around front, denying Jasmine the right to leave, Jafar grimaced cursing himself for forgetting her wounds.
"What was that?" Jasmine chortled repulsed by Jafar's expression, "Don't act human now Jafar…you like me in pain, right? You're only sorry you weren't the one to inflict it this time. Yeah go ahead glare at me, then smack me across the face, I don't care anymore what you – ah!"
The rising shouts were stolen away, along with her breath, as Jafar swiftly took her by the face, suddenly closing the distance between them, her neck and back arching to meet his impending height. The terror was evident in her eyes as he searched them angrily, his own conflicting emotions spiraling out of control as they both wondered if he would hurt her or simply kiss her.
Jafar knew Jasmine needed stitches; along with rest, medicine, water, food, and more rest. Thinking about her injuries as he held her face forced him to tremble with fury. He hated her for doing this to herself, and for what!? A pack of heathens and whores. Jafar had waited too long to make Jasmine his, and now that she finally was, the damn witch sought to get herself killed. It took all he had not to crush the bones in her face. He did want to inflict more pain, only to make a lasting impression that would deter her from ever doing a foolish thing like this again.
More than ever Jafar feared Jasmine would never learn, and one day would force him past the point of no return. Was she so naïve, so blinded by ideals of heroism that she could not see he exerted control over everything for her safety and the wellbeing of Agrabah? Though he was harsh, though he had deeply twisted methods for handling things, everything he had ever done had been for this kingdom. And now her. Yet, Jasmine continued to betray him at every possible turn.
Jafar took another step inward, Jasmine's trembling hands lifting to his wrists as their midsections meshed together; beautiful eyes fluttered as a shaky breath forced her firms breasts to swell against him. It was clear he could affect her just as much as she did him; her essence filling Jafar to the brim, bombarding him with a detestable desire to hold and kiss her lovingly. The thought of such an act was repulsively weak. He struggled to purge the feelings, but that only made them roar louder in his chest, warming the cool stiffness of his calloused heart.
But again, he found himself tongue tied and without a voice for compassion.
When he hadn't hurt her, but merely took her in his hands, Jasmine's strength dissolved. She couldn't keep up the tough act anymore. There was so much to tell him. Though she preferred anyone else in the world to talk with, Jafar was apparently all to be given. She wanted to tell him Ummah had died, and it was all her fault. That she'd witnessed Vada lose a damn eyeball, and had seen so much blood and melted flesh that she hadn't had a moment without shock induced adrenaline, and her spirit was weak from it. Jasmine needed to tell him there was a boy named Rahman and that he might also be dead too. All of this, because of her. She knew he was angry for her disobeying, but this had nothing to do with him. Or them. It was all about how she had let Agrabah down and was powerless to protect anyone, including herself.
She wanted to cry, to run and hide. To bury her face in Jafar's strong chest and cling to him for safety all while pushing him away and blaming him for all of this. (Even if it was impractical to blame him for every misfortune.)
More than anything, Jasmine was tired of being strong, tired of trying to figure out who she was all while the world kept changing around her, refusing to play by the rules of a happily ever after. It was childish she knew, but Jasmine was still a child. She'd only turned sixteen a few months ago, but it felt a lifetime had passed and kept dragging her down over and over. The journey had been relentless and she needed a rock to lean on.
But nothing came out. Tongue growing fat in her mouth as the bones felt tight beneath her skin and Jasmine wanted to fall over in defeat. To let Jafar see just how torn down she was from inside out and how she didn't think she could keep going on any longer.
But again…She said nothing.
"Jafar!" The shrill high pitched whine of Henrietta shot Jasmine's eyes wide open.
Her Majesty drew a ragged breath, still face to face with her erratic and unreadable spouse, who kept her centimeters from his parted lips. If only the world would fade away for a moment more, and leave them in peace. But it was not so as Ettie called again stepping closer, any romanticized notions dissipating when it was clear Jasmine would never feel safe enough to open up to Jafar. Elijah had finally caught up and was now more out of breath than the mare; horse led by the reigns to step near Henrietta, who kept trudging wearily towards the royals.
"Jafar, it was horrible!" Henrietta's voice broke, and with it, Jafar's trance as he let go of his wife.
Both rulers turned to face Ettie, who looked beyond distraught and frail as her pale green dress became muddled and dirty with ash. She gasped loudly as part of the hem tore on a plank of wood, and Jasmine scoffed inwardly.
With all the destruction, Ettie was more concerned with fashion.
"Are those... from the palace?" Elijah pointed appalled as dirtied street rats nuzzled up with silk and cotton blankets. Jafar turned at the waist following Elijah's line of sight, but before he could respond himself to seeing royal belongings passed out, Jasmine had gone forward to address both Kingsley's.
"Is there a problem, Elijah, with how I chose to look after my people?"
Elijah grinned saying, "The worst form of quality is to try and make unequal things," a nod towards the street rats, "equal."
Unbelievable. "You have no right to speak over my decisions, how dare you –."
"You take me all wrong your Majesty. I simply quote Aristotle. Nothing more…"
Jasmine had so much to say, or rather would've if her brains weren't already scrambled from so much trauma, and she simply pushed past Jafar and returned to her previously started work. Jasmine came and knelt beside an older woman with white tendrils of hair. She was hacking something horrible, and Jasmine took a clay saucer of herbs and dipped her fingers into the mesh, rubbing the victim's boney chest with it.
Unbeknownst to Jasmine, the Sultan had given a quick threatening word to Elijah, leaving the man stunned and a little shaken, then followed after his wife. He guided her to stand, lowering his voice so only she could hear.
"Jasmine… go inside the palace. It's not a request," he spoke briskly seeing her try to protest, "Now come… you've done more than enough – I will exact revenge on whoever did this, but you need to leave. You don't belong out here, little wife"
It seemed she understood, but when he attempted to pull her away he'd failed, her tiny hands slipping out of his grasp. Jasmine saw the flash of fury split across and in a motherly way Jasmine cupped the side of his angular face, her thumb gently rubbing the prominent cheekbone. It had shocked herself at how she reacted, and clearly it surprised Jafar too; her soft touch making his breathing shallow as she stepped in to search his eyes.
He was mad, but that was always the case. This time however, Jasmine thought she felt something different emanating from Jafar. He looked helpless, almost begging her as if concerned with her safety. Though he never spoke it, the depths of his eyes were revealed as the wall cracked momentarily, allowing her passage into his deepest thoughts.
"I will not go inside."
Jafar's mouth opened in a snarl, but the fight in him suddenly evaporated as her small hands pressed to his lips, tenderly quieting him.
"I know where my place is Jafar. It's right here." She smiled faintly, mouth dry and splitting but still beautiful. "You go where you belong," Jasmine nodded behind him to where Ettie now sat with her father on the mare.
"Jafar," she called his attention back, his thick brows tucking in silent vexation as he met her again, "This wasn't your fault."
His chest tightened and he impulsively wanted to smack someone. She had seen behind his walls and it pissed him off to no end.
"It's okay," she continued, seemingly without a trace of repulsion at his weakness, "Go inside. I'm fine being with my people."
"You need medical attention." All teeth were showing as he bared them in a low growl.
"So, do they. Most more than me. Go. Please," her final words were what hit him hardest, "Ettie needs you. Go be with her."
The look Jafar gave to that was priceless, as she'd never seen him make it before. But Jasmine remained steadfast, turning away to now tend to a man with a busted head. A few minutes passed when she felt Jafar's presence leave the station, but she didn't look to see. After another moment, the horses whinnied and took off towards the palace.
This morning she hated her husband and found him appalling, but now all she could feel was numbness. Weak tingles of numbness. She cared for Jafar, and in her weakest moments she kept finding herself hoping that he would be the rock she needed. And now she found frustration with herself for even imagining he was capable of doing something selfless for others. That he could show a shred of mercy and love without personal gain. He had taken her advice and gone with Ettie. Where he belonged. Though she'd told him to do just that, she found herself unable to look back at the distant horses and see it for herself. It was too disappointing.
Jasmine stood from wrapping a man's bloodied head, and took a rag to clean her hands when a deep velvety voice rang out, ripping her from the plaguing thoughts; orders being barked out from a distance. Jasmine spun on her heel, the velocity making her dizzy and the sight causing her pulse to quicken.
Jafar, down to just a shirt and pants, with sleeves rolled up, was in the wreckage with a few other men, ordering them to grab either side of a massive beam. More than that, he too had dug down into a squatting positon taking hold of the charcoaled timber. He counted to three, and all five men dug deep and lifted, stepping to the side until they could drop it safely back to the ground.
The queen stumbled a little, stepping out off the boards and into the dirt packed road as she blinked rapidly, trying to clear the ash from her eyes. Allah, if this is a trick of the mind it isn't funny.
But, it remained true, Jafar now covered in soot and mud as he grabbed the hand of a teenage boy and aided him to stand; the boy's mother helped up by others. When Jafar finished the task, he met her gaze from across the street; their eyes locking with such intensity Jasmine could feel a wave of heat even at such a great distance. He gave a crooked smile and sent an adorable wink to her, before recomposing leadership and returning to help the other men.
Jasmine's body jolted with the harsh laugh that escaped, her heart flickering with a small light. It was faint, and timid, but it had been struck all the same; it's glow warming her belly while making her head fuzzy. For a bit, longer Jasmine couldn't pull away from the sight of him; Jafar wiping sweat from his brow leaving a line of soot. Apparent muscles flexing beneath his clothing. Though she knew he must hate this, he took to the manual labor like second nature, proving he had once been a hardworking and strong young man.
Her daydreams from that morning were replaced with a new image. A young Jafar, working hard, supporting himself, or a family perhaps. He had loved once. He had been an innocent child before. Somewhere along the way something had gone terribly wrong, and even if it was from the Sultana or a hundred other things, Jasmine no longer seemed to care. In this moment, Jafar was a man worthy of being redeemed. And she allowed that sliver of hope to enter unashamed, as she held her fluttering heart, and turned back to her own duties.