Rutilant orbs were highlighted gold by the cantilever of moonlight that split across Jasmine's daunt expression; the girl repeatedly eyeing the long drop below and the barren guest room behind her, as she straddled the window sill of the second floor.
With a linen cloth sack filled with gold coins, and tied to a black waistband, Jasmine had every intention of leaving with just the clothes on her back; tan, woolen harem pants, a matching long sleeve top and goat skinned clothed shoes that wrapped up to her calves. She'd thrown the ensemble together in a hurry, down to a messily crafted braid, but Jasmine felt utterly prepared to embark on the next phase of her life:
Leaving for good.
That is, if it weren't for the hook of equivocality that had snagged her insides and tugged mercilessly at her fleshy heart, demanding she stay.
The first time, leaving had been but second nature – out of humiliation and offense she'd up and left with no plan of action or wits about her. Simply renounced her life for the bitter unknown.
Now, with a game plan mapped out to a T, and having been, indeed, humiliated and offended, Jasmine should have taken the plunge into the small, frost bitten, garden twenty minutes ago.
Jafar remained downstairs in the darkness (where he fit in best) and with no palace guards, no massive walls to climb, and every reason to go, running away for the second time should've been a cinch.
Yet, there she sat, one leg dangling on the outside of the white washed home, and the other with toes touching the safety of the floor as hands clung to the structure of the sill between her legs; and Jasmine's head hung, subjugated by overwhelming, clouded emotions.
The steam of their fight had yet to wear off in the last hour, but Jasmine insisted that her current thought process was completely rational.
Fight or not, Jasmine discovered she needed something worth living for, fighting for even. Tzipporah admitted she'd faced struggles in her marriage but she also stated it was all worth it in the end.
Jasmine did not have that with Jafar. There'd been too little time and far too much destruction for that to happen and Jasmine was finally at an end; unwilling to fight for a union, for a man, that was beyond saving. (Her own blood had played a role in this charade for Allah's sake!)
This wasn't what she'd signed up for. A mess this big was beyond her control, all unraveling too quickly. The moment Jasmine felt she'd gained a grasp on one end of the situation, another part of the yarn split off and tumbled away in opposing directions, leaving her fumbling and tripping all over the place.
She'd tried to be strong, to mature, and in so many ways she had. But the cost was too much with too little reward; she couldn't handle anymore.
Jasmine didn't see an alternative, though she desperately wanted one.
She loved her city. Her father. Her friends. . . Truthfully, she thought she could have started to love Jafar.
Nevertheless, this was the only course left to take. To get as far away from anyone and anything that linked her to an unforgivable history of darkness, sorcery, adultery, hatred, and death. Jafar would be fine without her. They all would.
With a careening sway Jasmine swung a right leg to join the one dangling outside and clutched the ledge of the sill. With puffed cheeks Jasmine exhaled fragility, and emboldened herself to personify stoutheartedness. She closed her eyes and dropped, stomach floating in her chest as she free fell. She landed hard into the frigid soil, scraping her hands and face as she rolled out into the cobblestone courtyard. Jasmine bit back a groan becoming winded and lying flat on her belly as she laid motionless; the frosted stones biting through her otherwise warm outfit.
Jasmine didn't breathe for a long moment as she waited.
If the commotion had been heard by Jafar he'd not shown himself. The house laid as dark and silent as ever, and only then did Jasmine get to her feet, wincing a little as she tested the weight on her left ankle. A little bruised from the tension she felt, but it wasn't cause for concern.
Carefully she kept her back to the courtyard wall, sliding along the whispering shadows as the wind blew, biting at her cheeks and making them color. She unlatched the stable, found the yellow-gold mare that they'd come here with, and opened the stall with caution, keeping one eye over her shoulder and another on the steed.
"That's it girl – no more carrying saddlebags. You and me," she breathed, reaching carefully to pet her neck, "We're going to go on a little adventure. Just the two of us girls. Would you like that?"
The mare gave a snorting nicker, one eye falling directly into Jasmine's as if she understood every word, and was more than happy to oblige. The magnificent beast, calm and gentle, stepped forward, following Jasmine with a trusting gait.
"That's it," Jasmine smiled in a hushed whisper, "Good girl."
When they were out of the stable, Jasmine close the door once more with precise quiet, looking continually at the sleeping home, and expecting to see Jafar behind her. But he never showed. Jasmine lead the mare along the shadows of the courtyard wall and, stopping every few moments to ensure the clicking hooves had not stirred any unwanted company, successfully reached the gate.
Jasmine lifted the bar with slight difficulty, but managed all the same. It wasn't until the two of them were outside of the walls when Jasmine hesitated and looked behind her one last time. A longing sensation stirred within, and she suddenly felt as if she were losing something.
It's not too late to go back. Go talk to Jafar. You were just as much at fault tonight, letting your anger get ahold of your tongue.
Jasmine's eyes dropped, a shaky hand petting the waiting steed.
You knew this would be hard but he's still your husband. Put your pride down, show him forgiveness and love. He has feelings too . . . you saw it in his eyes when you called him names, accused him of insect. It hurt him.
"Like hell if it did." Jasmine scoffed shaking her head, and closed the gate behind her, and with it, the voice of reason.
Slipping off twice, Jasmine struggled at first to mount the bare back of her horse; then finally, using a large nearby rock to stand on, Jasmine was successful. She adjusted to the weight beneath her, winding her grip in the long unruly mane of white hair as the mare moved; then, feeling secure dug her heels into the steed and took off into the dead night. To where Jasmine wasn't entirely sure, but she rode on hard and relentless past the city boundaries, the valleys and flat lands, until they were both spent with exhaustion and stiff from the freezing night.
The caravanserai, a building with enclosed courts, was a large road station placed between towns. The site was designed for traders, pilgrims, and other travelers, who engaged in long distance traveling, who needed a place to rest themselves and their animals. This caravanserai, in particular, was a rectangular shaped building with a high, walled exterior and a single portal wide enough to permit large or heavily laden beasts, such as camels, to enter through. It was made of dark stones and mortar and gave a dreary foreboding sort of feel, especially in the middle of the night.
But it's appearance never looked more heavenly to the cold exhausted young girl.
There was a guard on post, though Jasmine hardly saw the need for his being there since he snored away leaning against the wall. By his wiry frame, advanced age, and a large book that rested in his crossed arms, Jasmine assumed his purpose of being here were to merely check in the visitors that came and went.
In such a cold night, and sleeping in such an uncomfortable position, Jasmine felt bad for him.
Jasmine hopped off her horse, took a gold coin from the linen cloth, and placed it on top of the guard's book binding, and headed inside the walls. The courtyard was open to the sky, lighted about with tall lanterns. There were a number of identical animal stalls, bays, niches and chambers to accommodate merchants and their servants, animals, and merchandise.
Hardly anyone was out at this hour; any travelers already asleep in one of the chambers. Jasmine found a water trot for the mare, and an empty stall, where she put her away and headed towards the only place in the square that had light emanating from its windows.
A tavern from the looks of it. With luck, she could get a meal and possibly a small space to rest for the night.
Within the tavern were four small round tables with chairs, a bar top, and no color other than brown and a flickering orange from the two lanterns which gave hardly any light. Some harmless elderly men sat in the farthest corner, having been speaking prior to Jasmine's entrance, they all turned and shot disapproving looks.
She smiled their way, with no reciprocation of niceties, then caught sight of a short staircase to her right. Jasmine craned her neck to peer up at the second floor containing three closed off bedrooms. Hopefully one of them was vacant.
A grumbling cough pulled her attention to the man behind the bar top. His eyes were stern, lined with deep wrinkles that extended from the corners out to the apple of his cheeks. He had a thick white beard clinging to his frowning mouth, and a cap over his head, that sat low over his eyebrows, with two curled pieces of long grey hair extending from under it as they dangled by the sides of his wizened face.
Jasmine stepped forward, forcing her head high to act as if she belonged.
"I would like a room for the night, please."
He smacked his gums, looking her over and flatly stated, "No. You need to leave."
"You're joking . . . right?" Jasmine's smile slipped when his serious demeanor remained put. "It's only for one night, sir."
"Just the same, a woman doesn't belong here. Not on her own, to be sure."
"If money's the issue –,"
"It's not." He said pointedly, digging into the heels of his hands on the counter between them. "No good comes of a woman sneaking about in the middle of night. Someone's either chasing you or they're about to be – all the same, no good can come of a woman wandering the desert in the middle of the night. Go home."
Yanking a tattered rag from his shoulder he began rubbing unnecessarily at a discolored, worn circle on the counter top. Jasmine open and closed her palms, looking around the room with a sigh. She was trembling from the nights cold journey – four hours had taken its toll on her.
"I can pay well," she insisted, "Three times that of the room's worth."
The man scoffed, openly looking at her most attractive feminine qualities "A pretty young thing like you, I'm sure you could. But I don't run a brothel – you'll not find work here, so be on your way."
He started to wipe again when three gold coins were dumped on the bar top, nearly missing the aged hand. Brown eyes shot up from their hooded lids, eyeing Jasmine and the coy smirk she held as she crossed her arms.
He smacked his lips again, clearly conflicted. "One night you say?"
She gave an easy nod.
"And I suppose you'll be wanting a meal or two with it." He grumbled.
"Please. I would be most grateful."
His eyes darted to the two men in the corner who had been watching the entire transaction from start to finish, and rolled his eyes with a pinch of his nose.
"Best I can do is a room next to mine upstairs. Its small, but has a coal burner, a bed, and basin. One night only though – whatever it is your running from I don't want no part of. Understood?"
"Fair enough." She said, smoothly sliding into one of the seats.
He nodded looking around the bar and making a squelching sound with his tongue on his crooked teeth. "Soup's on the menu. It's bland but hot."
"Wonderful, thanks." Jasmine rubbed her hands together to get life back into the stiff digits.
Walking with a strained, hobbling, gait, he dipped a ladle into a nearby pot, pouring murky fluid into a small bowl, then set it and an empty mug in front of her.
"Thirsty?" he asked curtly, though it was more of a rhetorical question, since he was already pouring ale into the mug.
"Oh – umm. Tea? Or coffee perhaps?" Jasmine grimaced. She'd not had alcohol since her wedding night, and the aftermath of drinking hadn't been kind to her. "Alright then . . . ale is fine, I guess." She said in a soft tone, spooning the soup and relishing its warmth.
"So," he began, setting aside the pitcher and leaning heavily on the ledge. "Husband. Or father?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Since you're stayin' I would like to know what your business for stayin' is. Must've been a man that's sent you running, so either it's a husband, or a father."
Jasmine cleared her throat, raising then drooping her chest. "Neither." There she went again, lying. Jasmine cleared her throat, "I mean . . . husband." Jasmine stirred her soup absently, watching a few chunks of vegetables floating about the whirlpool of broth. "But that's all I wish to say about the matter."
The man smacked his mouth again in thought then gave an easy nod and went about whipping down the counter once more, when the door blew open and Jasmine nearly jumped out of her seat, half expecting to see Jafar in the doorway.
To her dismayed surprise, her heart slowed to a disappointed sulk when nothing was there but the howling wind and the ink of a dark night. Jasmine lingered her gaze on the empty door a while longer, searching the empty courtyard beyond the threshold as if Jafar would suddenly appear; tired, angry, worried for her safety.
But Jasmine remained without him and returned to her meal.
Making a noise of discontent muttering, the man shifted where he stood. "Should I be expecting this husband of yours to storm in looking for you then?"
He gestured with the tail of his beard to the door, as it slammed back shut on its own accord, and Jasmine shook her head.
"You sure about that?"
Jasmine nodded finding her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as some unnamed emotion jabbed at her gut. Jafar wouldn't find her in the middle of nowhere – probably didn't want to – and may not even be looking for her.
That's what you wanted isn't it? To be free of him and forget about him – for him to forget about you?
Maybe in the heat of the moment, when she'd been angry about their argument, but now that she'd calmed, and could think more clearly, Jasmine found herself wanting.
Aladdin paced back and forth nervously, rubbing a closed knuckle over his lip until it felt raw against his chattering teeth. He was risking everything, but he'd known that the moment he left to on a one-man conquest. (It was fate alone, he'd decided, that had kept him from actually having to face the snake.)
What better luck could he have asked for than for Jasmine to, at the very moment he was stalking the home, have leapt from the window and rode off into the night. Could any man deny that it was their destiny to be together when the gods of the world had designed such a marvelous opportunity? Of course not!
The tavern door blew open with a sudden gust of wind and he spotted Jasmine before leaping out of sight like a coward. What if she didn't want to see him?
The way they had left off all those months ago. The way he'd seen her smiling in the streets with that fucker, after clearly defiling her in that alcove – Aladdin averted his gaze from the vision, turning his head with a pinched expression. He mustn't think of her in that way, especially with a foul beast.
Aladdin preferred to be blind to that part of her and kept Jasmine preserved in his memory as the innocent young princess he left behind. Whatever she did with Jafar had been for survival and he refused to acknowledge that her virtue had been stolen – soon the past wouldn't matter any longer, and they could finally become one and leave it all behind.
He had plenty of work to do in repairing the broken girl that sat in the tavern, but it would all be worth it in the end. His fragile dove was worth every sacrifice.
Aladdin took a steadying breath that puffed out his chest, kept his mouth covered with the black head wrap, and stepped silently inside, taking a seat in the opposite corner of the elderly men playing Tamerlane Chess. Jasmine remained engrossed in a hushed conversation with the bar keeper and sipped languidly from a mug.
Aladdin cringed praying she wasn't drinking ale – of course Jafar had led her down such a destructive path. How else was she to cope? Aladdin locked eyes with the older man, whom of which now eyed him suspiciously as he lowered his head to Jasmine's, clearly warning her that someone had come in and was watching them speak.
Proving Aladdin's theory correct, Jasmine cautiously looked over her shoulder at him, then whispered something again to the inn keeper while shifting her knees towards the exit.
"What's your business stranger? If you're looking for a room there's none left tonight, but your free to sleep in open of the stables. Hay is warm if you can tolerate the smell."
With a darkly wrapped hand that hid even the tips of his fingers, Aladdin waved away the offer without speaking.
The old man pulled a no nonsense hard expression, and leaned forward on the bar top.
"Ale then?"
Again, Aladdin responded in a similar fashion, and it only grated the keeper's distrust.
"You better speak plainly then or get out – I don't tolerate trouble, and that's precisely what you look like."
Aladdin sighed, watching Jasmine's turned back persistently then faltering when he seen the man stiffen and reach under the counter for a weapon.
"I'm meeting a friend here." Aladdin blurted hurriedly, and his heart started to palpitate. "A woman – I told her to wait for me. Now I'm here to see if she has."
Jasmines posture slowly rose, tense and uneasy though he could sense her heart racing just as fast as his. Surely, she knew his voice, like a babe recognizes its mothers voice, his must indeed still be precious to her, just as hers would be to him.
Now was the moment of truth, and Aladdin held his breath and waited.
"A-Aladdin?"
He pulled down his mouth piece and winked at her with a handsome smile.
"Hello, Princess." He crooned.
Jasmine nearly fell out of her seat upon standing but managed to stay upright as she approached, wide eyed with wagging brows as she stammered. "How – why- where did you. I – I don't know what to say."
Aladdin smiled as he stood, stretching an arm behind his back and smiling at the floor. "A hug will do."
A breathy laugh came from behind her teeth as she allowed, more than reciprocated, a hug to ensue. He felt warm and gentle but it did little to penetrate her heart.
"I can't believe you're here with me."
"I can't believe you are either." Aladdin held her at arm's length beaming at her with pride. "So, you did it. You escaped Agrabah and that tyrant of a snake, I always knew you had it in you. I'm assuming he's controlling Agrabah now?"
Aladdin pulled out a chair for her and Jasmine sat down, taking a breath as she tugged at her braid and held her stomach.
Of course, Aladdin didn't know anything. He'd left weeks before she was captured and brought back to the palace. Which meant he didn't know about the marriage, the fire, or all that she'd endured as of late. There was so much to catch up on, but in truth Jasmine didn't have the heart to tell him she hadn't waited for him; more so she'd forgotten about him.
"Jafar is Sultan of Agrabah – yes." Jasmine said avoiding the topic best she could.
Aladdin scooted his chair forward so their knees brushed against each other and Jasmine shifted to create distance under the table. To no avail, Aladdin slid his rear to the edge of the seat so she couldn't escape his intrusive legs that landed on either side of her tightly pressed ones. Apparently, he was oblivious to personal space.
Out of all the things you've done to upset Jafar, this would top the cake.
And the smallest part of her wished, momentarily, that Jafar could see this. That he would realize that other men would gladly fight to be with her, and maybe that would snap some sense into Jafar. (But it was childish to think to crassly.)
"So – did you ever get my letter?"
The letter she found when she'd been broken, crying because she would have to sell her body to remain hidden in the brothel, and finding Aladdin had abandoned her? Oh yes, she'd gotten that slap-in-the-face-note indeed, and reliving the moment now churned her stomach inside out.
"Yes Aladdin. I found the letter." She said softly not meeting his eyes.
"And did you?" he asked. "Did you wait for me?"
Jasmine felt a twinge of anger rising up in the back of her throat. That was what concerned him after all this time?
"Are you asking if I kept my virtue or my heart reserved for you?"
"They're the same thing, are they not? You wouldn't give someone your virtue and be able to deny them your heart as well – am I right?" he chuckled dryly, voice thinning, as the mood shifted. "So . . . did you wait for me, like I asked? Because, I waited for you."
Jasmine was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Though he kept a smile on his face that could steal the hearts of angels, there was something different. Unseen to the naked eye but Jasmine could feel it with her soul. Maybe she'd been around the darkness too often and became more aware when she was in the presence of it – perhaps Jafar had ruined her trust in people and that was the cause for her leeriness now.
Whatever the case, Jasmine saw a thing present in Aladdin. It had no name yet could be called upon, no life of its own yet it held a certain power. It was dark, lurking, watching her through Aladdin's hooded eyes, and a chill crept ever so slowly from the tips of her fingers up the backs of her arms.
Aladdin was different – wherever he'd spent the last several months, whomever he'd spent them with, had affected him substantially, and all warning bells rang off. Jasmine eyed the exit, the inn keeper who kept a watchful eye on them, and the exit again before forcing a smile to Aladdin.
"My heart belongs to me, Aladdin." She stated as clearly as her nervousness would allow. "As far as waiting for your return, I couldn't. You asked too much from someone with too little options."
And that was all she was willing to say. How little she had known this boy before had only increased substantially; and she was not at liberty to share beyond what was necessary to remain polite.
"Fair enough," he said, looking down and seemingly recomposing any afflictions he may have felt before, smiling once again. "We're together again now, so that's all that matters."
Sure. "It is good to see you, Aladdin. You look like you've been keeping well." Jasmine gestured to him with a hand. "I love the new look on you. Very – domineering."
"I've found some new friends along the way, yes. Their costume idea, not mine," he mused lightly, "but it helps in our line of work – I've told them a lot about you, you know, and they would love to meet you someday."
"Oh?"
"Mm-hmm. About our history, and all we've been through. I'll tell you, if you're looking for a group of people that hate Jafar more than you and I, you'd be in good company with them." He sniggered
"Oh. I see." Jasmine breathed as a pool of alarm filled her chest to the brim.
Sure, she wasn't Jafar's number one fan, but she didn't want to join a clan of people filled with hate for him.
"They know all about the snake beast sorcerer. And I'll tell you Jasmine, if you ever want to get back at him for all he did to you – to us – they've a power of their own."
"What do you mean?"
Aladdin looked around as if the walls were listening and leaned forward to whisper. "Let's just say that Jafar, that fucking bastard, isn't the only powerful being in the world." He waggled his brows and leaned back comfortably in the chair with a sideways smirk.
Jasmine's smile felt drawn on, thin and crooked. She commanded her body to react, for herself to laugh manically in false joy; to tell Aladdin 'congratulations' and pretend to be interested in his ploy of overthrowing her husband. But her heart defeated her mind and the warmth in her cheeks drained down into her core, leaving a batch of lava liquifying her soft organs.
Someone more powerful than Jafar? An enemy? Jasmine wanted to run, to hurry back to her husband and warn him. To protect him from harm.
"That's . . ." she cleared her throat, and spoke to the table, "That's incredible. H-How did you, umm. Who?" She laughed with a shrug.
"It's sort of a secret. I'd be betraying them if I said too much right now. Anyways, are you staying here tonight?"
Jasmine nodded unable to lie when she needed to most.
"Good, good. You need to be somewhere safe. Although, you've survived this long on your own so I suppose I don't need to give you a lecture again about life outside the palace." He smiled and leaned forward to take her hand gently in his. "Jasmine, I truly am sorry for leaving you. I did love you. I – I still do."
For a moment, she saw the real Aladdin, the kind one she had cared for once upon a time. Whatever mess he was involved in made her fearful, not only for herself and Jafar, but also for her old friend. The darkness seemed to keep poisoning the people in her life, even the ones long since passed, and Jasmine's heart ached for all of them.
Including Jafar.
Jasmine touched his hand on top of hers. "Don't be sorry, Aladdin. We can't change the past, and honestly, everything happens as it should. I wouldn't change it."
His softness flickered with bemusement, large brows drawing down. "You wouldn't?"
Well some things she'd wished had gone differently – The way Jafar had found her in the brothel, leaving Tahira behind and the fire that followed after. She'd have changed her wedding night with Jafar and wished he didn't have such a disturbing history with her family. Those things she'd wished had gone differently, but the fact was she couldn't change any of it, only learn from those before her, and fight to make sure the future was far better.
"No – I wouldn't change anything, because it's made me stronger, in ways I never thought I could be. It's been challenging and at times I cried so much that I thought I'd never be able to stop. But – those things needed to happen." Jasmine paused with a small smile. "A lot of it doesn't make sense, and I struggle to find forgiveness and strength in certain areas, but I – I'm at peace with how it all turned out."
"You are?" he asked flatly.
Jasmine gave a wayward smile noticing they were still holding hands. His had become clammy on hers; a little too tightly they clasped, and Jasmine could feel his quickened pulse from his wrist. A lump formed at the base of her throat and she couldn't swallow.
"That's uh – good to hear, Jasmine. Good to hear."
For some reason, I doubt that.
"Well then. I should be leaving, I planned to ride on through the night to get back to my people. But I can come back in the morning for you, if you'd like? I don't want to lose you again – and my people, oh, you would love them. I know you would, Jasmine." He gripped her fingers tighter when she tried to slink them away, and Jasmine suppressed her protest. "When I left you Jasmine it was never for good. We are meant to be together, in whatever way you see fit. But I know that we're supposed to be in each other's lives. Tonight, is proof of that."
Jasmine nodded looking down. She was getting ready to open her mouth to speak when the table shifted under Aladdin's weight and he leaned across to capture her mouth in a kiss. Her eyes shot open as she watched what was done to her – Aladdin's eyes closed, mouth open as he collided his tongue against her dormant one, licking her teeth and pulling at her mouth until it was covered in saliva. Jasmine nearly gagged, when Aladdin finally broke it off and stood, coming around to her side to cup her face.
"I'll be back around high noon. We won't have to wait anymore – I love you Jasmine. I always have." He purred petting the side of her face.
She remained tense with a mimicked smile. He kissed her again and it made her cringe inwardly at the abrasive pell-mell manner in which he assaulted her person space. This was not the same Aladdin she'd known – at least this side of him she hadn't known. Not to this extent. It made her frightened, infuriated, but mostly it made her regret ever leaving the safety of her husband's arms.
She imagined Jafar storming in, in a jealous protective rage, kicking down the door as he did in the brothel, and ripping her away and hiding her behind him as he saved her. Then he'd avenge her and make sure nothing and no one ever disrespected her again because she belonged to him and him alone.
"Aladdin," Jasmine breathed pushing him from her, and stumbling backwards, the chair screeching across the floor, as she stood. "I'll umm, see you tomorrow." Her voice trembled with each word, Aladdin sobering as he licked his lips.
Stop tasting me!
"I'm sorry Jasmine," he started, reaching for her again, and Jasmine took a step back. "I didn't mean to alarm you – forgive me."
Jasmine nodded, watching Mordechai from where he stood on the other side of the counter, looking as though he were ready to pounce on Aladdin for causing problems in his tavern. The older men playing chess were watching them now too, and Jasmine flushed with embarrassment at the audience.
"You're forgiven Aladdin – It was good to see you again, my friend."
He picked up on the aura of the room and bowed out, hiding his self-loathing best he could with a smile. "So, you'll come with me tomorrow then?"
"Yes," she lied, with a ghostlike voice.
Aladdin tilted his head in a smile and pulled the cover back over his mouth.
Jasmine's heart stopped dead – unable to breathe until her lungs dried up and skin turned to black ice.
She'd been so shocked to have seen Aladdin that she hadn't noticed it sooner; but now – oh Allah, it hurt so deeply. To recognize the man before her, as the man she had bumped into in the streets the day before the fire. The one who had kept a watchful eye on her as she walked away.
Dressed like the Thieves, decked out head to toe in blue and black garments.
Someone had pulled her from the fire that day – someone who had already been there watching, scouting the perimeter, while the others set the city ablaze.
Aladdin was one of them: a traitor, a liar, a manipulator . . . a murderer.
Jasmine swayed, nearly falling flat on her face when she caught the back of the chair to steady herself. Aladdin stepped forward with concern but she waved him away, shaking her head.
"It's the ale I drank – it just made me – uh – very tired." She assured brokenly, trying not to look at him lest her bleeding heart gave her away.
"Are you sure?" he asked, and Jasmine nodded again.
A pair of thin wiry arms came around her and Jasmine leaned into one of the old men that had surprisingly come to her aid. Mordechai could be heard speaking to Aladdin, telling him it was time for him to go, but Jasmine pretended she didn't hear, letting herself be guided to a seat and keeping her head down.
"Alright then," Aladdin said tightly, his voice becoming distant as he was guided by Mordechai to the exit. "Tomorrow, Jasmine."
"Come on now, out of my Inn. It's nearly morning, and I need to close up. Out you go, out you go."
Mordechai ushered, and before Aladdin could protest, the door was shut and the lock slid into place. Mordechai leaned against the door with an outstretched arm, the curled hairs from under his hat dangling as he shook his head at Jasmine.
"See," he huffed, "No good can come from letting a woman in here, in the middle of the night."
"Yet you kicked out the man instead." Jasmine scoffed lightly, rubbing her temples as she looked up.
"Yeah well, I like you – I don't like the looks of him." He limped forward to join the other two men, who were hovering over Jasmine like she was a feeble animal. "Was that the husband?"
She shook her head, feeling almost grateful that she'd married Jafar instead. He was many things, but he'd never be responsible to murdering innocent women and children. He was an asshole and a sadist, but even he had boundaries.
Jasmine heart lurched as she lit up with fear. "I have to leave – I need to go see my husband."
Mordechai made a sound of protest. "Wait a while longer for that man to leave. Sun will start to rise in a few hours – rest until then, and ill prepare you some food for your journey back."
Jasmine thanked Mordechai, and the other two men, for their kindness. She did need to rest, although it would be an uneasy sleep, and headed upstairs to the guest room. Jasmine curled up on the bed, starring at the backs of her eyes as her mind raced relentlessly.
She could run still, run away from Aladdin too. Board a ship and rid her conscience of the past and all its misfortunes. For the first time Jasmine was given a choice instead of one being thrust upon her. It was tempting to take the easy way out . . . and her reluctance to do the right thing is what made her toss and turn. Her mind screamed at her, telling her to save herself, leave and never look back on either of them.
But her heart spoke louder this time, winning out in the end.
She needed to warn Jafar, at the very least, and let him know the thieves were here. That Aladdin said they held a power of their own that could destroy him. She'd not let her pride and injured emotions stand in the way of what was right.
If Jafar gets overthrown doesn't he deserve it? After all he's done to you? To your family? He doesn't deserve your help.
Maybe not – but she had no right to cast that sort of judgment on him. Not when it was so evident that darkness was a sly, powerful thing. It had robbed countless others, her mother, Jafar, and now Aladdin, from the life they could've had. Who was she to harness animosity because of their weaknesses. She wasn't without faults of her own, but that didn't mean she didn't deserve compassion and love.
And she couldn't allow herself to keep denying Jafar the same.
Jasmine wouldn't let him fall because she'd been too stubborn to forgive him. Regardless of the past, Jafar was a part of her, a part of her heart, and the man she vowed her life to deserved to know what he was up against – regardless of the consequences that may ensue. At the first sign of dawn, she'd be on her way, running back to the man she'd left behind.
And, in choosing Jafar, Jasmine finally felt at peace and drifted off into a deep sleep.