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There is plenty of dialogue and information presented in this chapter and I apologize if it is confusing. If so, please let me know if I need to clarify anything.
….
There was a full moon. There was always one between the sharp, bare branches of an unnamed forest. Jasmine had been here before. An island in her dreams – forgotten nightmares of an etiolated grove. This time, however, it lacked the usual chaos of war and terror that always lead to her own death.
Lush green grass, cold and pillowy beneath her bare feet, remained undisturbed. The silence so unnatural. Not even the chirp of a cricket or rustling of wind in the leaves could be heard. Jasmine looked straight ahead and found a hilltop, hundreds of feet in width and height, its bare skin basking in the moon's pale-yellow light.
Then, the monstrous chomping of unified steps cut through the calm. They came in by the hundreds; wraith-like soldiers marching up every side of the mound, spear in hand and age-old armor on their backs. Their skin was thick like leather and gaping holes of black soil were packed into the sockets of their eyes. Like a unified clash of cymbals, the soldiers abruptly stopped. A path opened then, leading from Jasmine's feet towards the top of the hill. Without consent her body floated along the course set out, the visitant warriors' unholy eyes watching as she went.
There, on the peak of the hill stood an altar made of black stone. In the ground, on either side of the post, were large empty bowls. They looked like gaunt mouths, sticking up out of a grave in a most horrific way.
Next came a woman's crow-like wail. Its unhallowed cackle piercing the morrow of Jasmine's bones.
"Someone there?"
Ja-aaaaa-smine.
Her name was drawn out in a monotone song. The ghostly undertone vibrating Jasmine's core as if it'd originated from her body.
"W-what do you want?" She fought for solidity but the words were tremulous. "Why do you bring me here?"
Then a different laughter rang, this time crisp like silver. "Take the blade. Obey, little lamb. It's prophecy."
The woman's voice came from the other side of the altar and Jasmine cautiously walked to better see. On her knees the woman's back was kept to Jasmine, onyx hair covering the sides of her face like a curtain, but something felt vaguely familiar. The stranger held a child in her arms, but Jasmine couldn't see them either. Only feel their presence, taste their fear as if knowing what would come next.
The woman coaxed again with a silver tongue. "Do it."
Look away Jasmine. Came a third voice.
Jasmine froze, breath strangled as she waited.
"Little Lamb?" The woman asked eerily and Jasmine took a step back. The woman angled her shadowed face, ear turned out. "Are you trying to hide? I can hear you breathing."
Heart in her ears an unsettling whisper commanded: Run. She couldn't move. Then a child's pitched scream shook the foundation of the ground and Jasmine heard the voice command again: RUN!
Jasmine stumbled, looking over a shoulder as she ran, tripping over her own feet. The woman rose. She was coming. Coming for Jasmine. This had happened before –Jasmine had run before. In the end she would be caught.
Don't look, Jasmine!
But it was too late. Jasmine's gut collided with the altar and a sticky warmth coated her hands and clothes. At the sight Jasmine fell to the ground on her backside, noiselessly screeching in terror. Blood. There was so much. It drenched the slab of stone, pouring like a waterfall over the sides and into the mouths of the ground, ceaselessly gushing from nothing.
Not nothing. Someone.
"No!"
Remember and come. You can't hide much longer.
Close your eyes, Jasmine.
"Stop it!" Jasmine futilely covered her ears.
The gaping jaws that swallowed the offered blood began overflowing and the ground beneath broke open with a vengeance. The blood engorged mouths cracked like bones and skinless muscled creatures with gaunt expressions emerged – she knew they were demons. There was a curdling scream, from Jasmine or something else, she couldn't tell anymore. Frantically her eyes closed, both fists bawled up at her sides as every fiber in her turned to stone. Then the world collapsed as darkness took hold.
"Jasmine. Jasmine – hey!" Jafar barked, shaking her violently when she wouldn't wake up. Finally, the screams fell flat. Jasmine's rigid form slackening as she remained unaware and dead asleep. Jafar breathed an exasperated exhale.
That was the fifth night in a row.
Jafar threw himself back on the pillows and covered heavy eyes with the back of his arm. It was this damn place. His own damn fault for ever bringing her along. In a few hours they'd be leaving Safed once and for all and this would all be behind him. Apparently, Jafar would find little rest until then.
The next morning leather straps rung through the loops of saddle packs. The two men Jafar had hired loaded the last bit of cargo onto the royal horses. Honey and the black stallion had become rather fond of each other the last few weeks and were nearly inseparable. Honey nudged the stallion as he covered her neck with his and their sides pressed together; in the process it squished the hand of one of the men.
"Mother's whore that hurt, stupid animal!" The man wailed ripping free and swatting the mare on the backside. The black stallion whinnied angrily and the man came around to the front. "That goes double for you. Filthy beast!"
"They gettin' the better of you again, Zephaniah?" The brother called, adding the final sack of provisions to the stallion then walked behind the horses. "No wonder. You gotta be brighter than the animal, mate."
"You callin' me stupid, Caden?" Zephaniah said, mispronouncing his 's' as usual.
"You said it, not me. And ma says it too." He jeered.
Zephaniah marched over to slug his brother when the stallion hiked its hind leg and kicked Zephaniah in the back, knocking him to the cobblestone. Caden guffawed wildly.
"Bloody beast!"
Caden clapped his hands in applause, hovering over his brother's crumpled form. "That's the problem. No one respects you. Gotta show them who's in charge." Caden moved aside then landed a deafening swat to the stallion's butt and gave a haughty scoff. "See? Who's the superior one now?"
In timely response Honey raised a hoof and shot it straight back, kicking Caden to the ground like his brother.
"I guess that answers that." Cyrus laughed appearing above the two men. "Can't mess with one and not get the brute end from the other."
"They aren't that smart – a pair of worthless swine," Zephaniah nursed his back with a scowl.
"Oh, I see worthless swine alright." Jafar mocked from beside Cyrus and the two buffoons scrambled to their feet despite the pain. "I trust everything is in order?" The boys stammered as Jafar lethally approached. "Because it would be a shame for Cyrus' clean courtyard to suddenly become splattered with human entrails, all because two, worthless, fat, morons delayed my schedule!" Jafar had been torturing not only Malachi the last five days but these men as well, and delighted in making them squirm one last time.
"The Queen is nearly ready." Caden rushed with ceaseless nodding, "All belongings packed away like you asked, food, water and sorts."
"Except the prisoner. He's still in the stable." Zephaniah added with a dumfounded nod.
Jafar's deathly stare should've been enough to get the point across but when neither man moved to finish their duties Jafar shouted, "Then get it. Now!" The men clumsily ran into each other before breaking off to fetch Malachi.
"It?" Cyrus said solemnly when the pair had gone. "He's a human being, Jafar. Not an object."
"He's a murderous thief. I simplified the term."
Cyrus' tongue felt uncomfortable in his mouth, like it'd grown too large and was weighed down with anxiety. Jafar cast a sideways look.
"Second thoughts old man? You understand why he's coming with us to Agrabah. My efforts here are producing little value. He needs to be secured in the dungeons and then tried for the crimes against him. I'm allowing the imperial court to weigh in on the matter."
"Its only been five days." Cyrus protested sorrowfully and turned his attention to the horses as a buffer. "Tzipporah might still make it back to see him. Opal's never met him. Josiah likely doesn't remember him."
"Then I'm performing them a service. Thank me for erasing the very scourge that has weakened your family." Jafar switched the staff from his left to his right hand and clamped spindly fingers over Cyrus' shoulder. "As you said. Its been five days. Jerusalem is only two away. Tzipporah is not coming and my time here has run its course."
Cyrus said nothing as Jafar's cold touch left; the Sultan turning back towards the house to find Jasmine. Cyrus had raked a hand through his coarse beard, silently asking God for strength and wisdom, when Malachi was brought out. A burlap sack was over the boy's head, stained with blood. Both hands were tied behind him with rope and his bludgeoned legs were so mangled they could hardly hold Malachi upright. In fact, if it weren't for the two men holding him under the arms, there'd be no way he could independently walk. One of the brothers took a long rope, fasted one end to the black stallion, and the other like a noose around Malachi's neck, securing it tightly in place.
Stomach acid rose, eating away at Cyrus' throat before he forced it down again. God would have to answer faster if He didn't want Cyrus to murder Jafar.
"Say your goodbyes if you wish." Jafar drawled unempathetically and Cyrus' face turned white hot.
"What have you done to him! What do you intend to do still? With what's left of him anyway." His stentorian voice reverberated off the courtyard walls. "He may be your prisoner but he's still my blood. I deserve to know my son's fate!"
Jafar turned back with a wicked smile. "Forgive my misguided notions but your son died six years ago. Isn't that the mantra you've fed the village and your family the better half of a decade? Malachi became my property the minute I stopped him from launching that blade into your sagging chest. Out of sympathy I waited so the rat's mother could say her goodbye. Which clearly, she's declined. My conscience is clear." Jafar moved again towards the house. He wanted Jasmine and to get the hell out, but Cyrus shoved Jafar by the shoulder to face him.
"You don't have a conscience! You don't have a merciful bone in your body. I was a fool to believe there was hope for you. For your wife. You're dead inside – a fiend, a degenerate foul creature." Large tears welled up in Cyrus' soft brown eyes. The wrinkles around them deepening. "What happened to the man I knew?"
Jafar took a threatening stance, speaking slow with deliberate control. "I've always been this. Its not my concern if you were too simple to realize it. Stand down."
Cyrus had defended Jafar long enough and it broke him deeply to recognize that everything he believed in was a lie. "I let you into my home because the man I knew still had a chance of being redeemed. He still wanted love. He wanted healing. Happiness." Cyrus held out his arms in prostration. "I opened my door to you. Allowed you the company of my family. To show you what you could've had. What is still possible. But not if you continue down this path. You'll be lost forever!"
"You and Jasmine have a commonality." Jafar smirked but there was a twitch beneath his eye, "When will you understand I'm far from lost? That perchance it's you who needs redemption."
"Think of her. Jasmine deserves more than you've given, more than you'll ever be able to give. You've doomed that girl to a lifetime of unfulfillment." Cyrus pleaded and Jafar erased the distance with one fail swoop. Magic radiated from the eyes of the snake staff as a final warning.
"I've had enough of your vile antidotes for my marriage, Hebrew. If you've any sense left at all you'll swallow them before I rip out your tongue as a stipulation."
Contrary to how shaken he was, Cyrus presented himself to be steady like a beating drum. "You're so blinded, Jafar. You believe your rage and all that power is what keeps you alive when in fact it's been killing you. Like a disease you infect those around you – you're infecting Jasmine. If you're not careful the sickness inside you will devour that woman." Brittlely he emphasized, "With you, Jasmine doesn't stand a chance."
Jafar's hand grew slick as it tightened around the staff. "Just because I haven't given my heart to some wench," Jafar's gravelly whisper rose into a full out roar, "And I couldn't give a fuck about you or your heathen family, does not give you the right -,"
"I have every right to tell you the truth. As your friend!"
"I will end your miserable existence!"
"As someone who cares about you –"
"I don't need your bullshit sentiment!"
"– Cares about Jasmine! Someone has to, because it's clear you never will!"
Their shouts layered on top of the other as indistinct babbling rage. Jafar swung a right hook knocking Cyrus square in the jaw. The brawny man was jolted then lunged forward with a swing of his own, knuckles cracking against Jafar's cheekbone.
Jasmine emerged just as the fists were thrown and her heart sank. The two men that'd been Jafar's assistants stood off to the side cheering on the brawl, while poor Malachi swayed where he stood, tied behind the black stallion. Clearly, she was on her own. Goat skinned boots carried Jasmine across the courtyard as she ran, shouting for them to stop; but she went unheard. When Jasmine reached the two men, she tried to pry them off the other and was nearly knocked down in the process.
Allah almighty. "Enough!"
Jasmine wedged herself between them and was struck in the face by an unidentified fist. As quick as a breath the brawl ceased. With concern Jafar took Jasmine's face in both hands and Cyrus rambled a frantic apology; but Jasmine wanted nothing to do with either of them. She shook both off to step indignantly away.
"You two are grown men and you're acting like wild animals! You should be ashamed of yourselves! No don't touch me!" Jasmine added, "neither of you," when Cyrus made a gesture.
Her temple felt hot and swollen from the blow but she ignored it; drawing a calming breath. Jasmine felt like a damn mother scolding her two sons and wondered if Tzipporah ever felt disappointed like this with her children.
"I'm ready to leave." She had remained inimical towards both men since the night they brought Malachi here, and she wasn't going to stop now. With similar cold poise she also addressed Cyrus. "Please tell Tzipporah and the children I love them. Here." She held out a folded piece of parchment. "For them when they return."
The rotund man opened his mouth to say something but she didn't want to listen. Jasmine turned away, took the reigns from one of the brothers with a curt nod, and mounted the golden mare. Out of the corner of her eye Jasmine saw Jafar say something to Cyrus, though it was inaudible from this distance. It may have regarded Malachi, because Cyrus looked that direction then mournfully shook his head and headed towards the stone house. He entered and closed the door without looking back.
Hopeless. Jasmine thought painfully, closing her eyes.
It was time to return to Agrabah.
Vast desert sands drank the last warmth of sun as it disappeared behind the horizon. The makings of a fire were already in order as Jafar added kindling. Jasmine made up the bedding inside the royal tent, stalling long as possible before facing her husband. They'd not had much one on one the last week and Jasmine dreaded facing the opposition of conversation with the man. Still, there was little else to keep her busy within the pavilion and eventually she made a muted presence.
Around the pitted fire were large rocks, big and flat enough to suffice as seats. Jafar resided on the one in front of the tent so Jasmine moved to the one adjacent, secretly wishing they could have separate campsites. Roughly half a mile in distance, behind the tent, Malachi was bound to a dwarfed tree; the man too badly injured to even attempt an escape. All things considered it was unlikely he'd survive the night – especially without shelter or warmth.
Tundra winds escalated, slashing the air like spears of ice. Thankfully Jasmine had worn an extra layer of woolen garments in preparation, but the wintery desert gusts still nipped at her flesh. Jasmine had continued standing by her designated rock, facing Jafar and correspondingly the prisoner. She watched Malachi with a sick guilt as if she'd been the one to personally torture and bind him.
She pulled her head wrapping closer around her face as another gust assaulted them. Without question, Malachi wouldn't survive the night.
"You destroyed that family."
Jafar made no reply as her almond eyes zeroed in on him.
"Tzipporah may never return to Cyrus. He could have her killed for it. And Malachi . . ."
"That family was a leaning tower of deceit and destructive tendencies. I just tipped it in the direction it was already falling." Jafar tore apart the laffa, nursing the piece between his thumb in thought. "Cyrus deceived and hurt his family. Malachi turned his back on it. Tzipporah has secrets of her own, I'm sure. I merely used their collapse to my advantage. I'm hardly the problem."
"Hardly …" Jasmine recited and was met with a cold glare. Jafar popped the food into his mouth and she looked ahead again.
Wildlife skittered along the dense shrub, a cottontail maybe, or something far deadlier and venomous. A branch snapped in the other direction. Cicadas chirped with unremitting zinging and coyotes howled in the outlands. Danger lurked at every corner and Jasmine couldn't help but fear a more caustic enemy to be hunting them. Watching, waiting to strike. How could Jafar act so placid?
"You seem on edge, consider taking a seat." Jafar responded to her thoughts. "Eat some of these porridge cakes. It sounds repulsive but I assure you its surprisingly satisfactory." Jafar's smile became tight lipped when Jasmine remained impudent. "Please. For your sanity as well as mine; your fidgeting is driving me mad."
"We're out in the middle of nowhere exposed, again. Only this time with clear enemies out there and we've got one of their people with us as a prisoner, of course I'm on edge. I'll remain standing if I wish." The palms of her hands turned clammy beneath her fingertips. Jasmine mumbled, "And I'll fidget if I damn well want to."
"Has your faith in me diminished so vastly that you now doubt my powers as well? That I'd be incapable of protecting us from an ambush?"
"I'm doubting you've thought this through." Honestly, for someone so well read and scripted his behavior was dense. "I feel like the last three weeks have been fruitless and chaotic. We came here to find out where the Thieves were –"
"Which we have."
"What we have is a hostage. I thought you meant to find out the Thieves location, then be the one to ambush them." Jasmine chopped the air with both hands in emphasis. "Not create an opportunity for them to trap us, take Malachi, and eliminate the threat you pose." Exasperated Jasmine let out a spluttering groan. "Unlike Cyrus who so easily tossed his son away, the Thieves are Malachi's family – someone will come for him."
A gravelly chuckle came from her husband causing Jasmine's blood to simmer. "No one is coming."
"Malachi said they're a family."
"Family is a vastly loose terminology, much like morality or love. It's form bends to each situation, each motive and desire according to the individuals involved. In your mind, dear wife, family means a bond unbreakable but to people like the King of Thieves it's another term for hierarchy; a way of controlling emotions, ties, allegiance, all for self-serving matters." He said airily with a tick of the mouth. "And I can assure you Malachi falls grossly at the bottom of said pyramid. Sit, Jasmine. Eat. Don't need you fainting and adding more dead weight to travel with."
Jafar held up a piece of bread and Jasmine dramatized the four steps it took to get to him, snatched it away angrily, then turned back to look out at the blackened horizon. She held her stomach with one arm while turning the morsel over and again until it turned crumbly from the oils in her fingers. She had no appetite – especially not while Malachi was denied food for several days now.
Is that not what he deserves?
No sooner was there a disembodied voice than Jasmine was pulled back to the day of the attack. On replay were the screams of agony, the roar of unrelenting flames, the buildings as they crashed down on top of people, on top of Ummah as Jasmine was pulled away. There was blood, her own mixed with that of her people. She was petrified, destitute. Her veins were drained of blood even as her heart pounded like a mallet. The Thieves leader was there again, mocking her, this time Aladdin was there too, and Malachi; all privy to the torment caused by their hands.
They deserve death. Kill him.
At the familiar growl she'd felt from her sleep Jasmine opened her eyes with a sharp inhale. Jasmine couldn't fight the onset of a cold sweat, like she'd reawaken from some nightmare she couldn't remember. She squeezed herself for comfort.
"Something you care to get off your mind?" Jafar's rumbling purr flustered her. She'd nearly forgotten he was there.
"It's nothing."
"I wish I could believe you, but alas my dear you look as though you just stood outside the gates of hell." Jafar said flatly then pulled a concerned frown. "Jasmine . . . you look like death."
"Charming." Jasmine half-heartedly laughed and shook the humor away. "I'm fine. I've just had some . . . bad dreams lately, is all."
"About?"
Giving one last glance towards the prisoner Jasmine relented, sitting uneasily by the fire while attempting to rub feeling back into her thighs.
"At least I think I've had bad dreams. I don't fully remember any of them – I just know I wake up with this sinking feeling. Like I've . . . died? Like something forgotten from my past. Or maybe it's my future." She scoffed uneasily, "It sounds ridiculous, I know."
"I disagree. Dreams can be powerful because they occur while we are most vulnerable." Jafar held his jaw with the 'L' shape of his thumb and pointer. "Is that what's upset you just now? Did you remember a nightmare?"
In a manner of speaking, yes. Jasmine studied him for any hint of mendacity and though slightly warmed by his sincerity, held back a smile. "Actually, I was just now thinking about the day of the fires. How it all happened . . . whether or not Malachi deserves this."
His eyes held an uncertain warmth. "Care to share?"
"I umm..."
Jasmine faltered, swaying her knees in a side to side fashion as she held her hands between them. The fire cackled, popping like pebbles scattered into a stream. Her heart felt like pebbles; tiny stones tossed pell-mell into cold dark water. Impossible to ever find again, forever hidden and forgotten. The attack on Agrabah was just one cause of that, and the more Jasmine thought about that day the more she'd come to realize where the true blame lied.
She couldn't stop the rush of words.
"Jafar . . . I knew the Thieves were coming to Agrabah the day before the attack happened. I visited Ummah. Its when she told me about you and my moth– Sahara. I didn't know if I should believe her, she was drunk, saying crazy things. But it wasn't just that . . . I thought I could handle the threat on my own. I didn't think it was – that is I didn't come to you because I . . . I hated you so much. I didn't want to run to you for anything. Especially for help or council. You were my enemy for so long. Because of me Agrabah paid the price. And now Malachi is paying it too."
Jasmine waited for an uproar to ensue. For magic to strike her down, or worse, a mighty fist. At the very least Jasmine expected Jafar to jump to his feet with irate sadistic intent. Instead he spoke with uncharacteristic calm; as if he'd already guessed and was only relieved she finally admitted she'd been wrong to withhold the information.
"Did you set fire to those buildings? Did you cut down Mohamed and countless families like his? Did you murder Ummah? Then you're not who I blame." Jafar's eyes creased as he concentrated on the soothing fire. "Jasmine I know why you were injured. You fought to save that boorish woman from a collapsing building. Nearly gave your life for hers and I know you would've for any one of our people."
The brim of her eyes felt hot. Jafar's large dark eyes locked with hers.
"You are a good woman. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. And for that man out there. What's done is done. Mm?" Jafar perceived her silence as acquiescent comply and took in a chest full of fresh air. "You can give him water. Nothing more. I'll be right here if you need . . . assistance."
Jasmine had already jumped to her feet with the canteen and was headed for Malachi before Jafar could finish.
The further from the fire's heat the denser the air became. Solid like a block of ice. It became difficult to move let alone breathe; all the more reason Malachi needed her. Lifelessly he was slumped forward held upright only by the bindings of the rope. Jasmine hesitated, swallowing with a dry throat as she pulled the sack off his head. Malachi's eyes were swollen shut, gashes and bruises decorating his face and neck. She didn't have to imagine the damage done to the rest of his body, honestly, she didn't want to.
"Malachi?" Her soft voice was hardly audible above the wind so she tried again louder. At his unresponsiveness Jasmine resorted to touch him. The second she did, however, Malachi snapped at the neck and thrashed wildly as if possessed. Jasmine jumped backwards with pulse frantically thrumming in her head. From the campsite Jafar shot up in alert but she gave him a simple nod signaling her safety. Malachi shouted incoherently before the efforts drained him entirely and he fell back into a comatose state; barely strong enough to draw another breath. It was a heart wrenching sight.
From afar Jasmine gave Jafar a pleading look.
He needs warmth and shelter.
Reading her with ease Jafar gave a resounding 'no' by slowly shaking his head. Jasmine countered by dramatically dropping her shoulders, but Jafar remained adamant in his decision then made a come-here-motion with his finger.
Fine don't help. But I'm not gonna let him die out here. Jasmine said with just her body language and Jafar narrowed his eyes in response. She turned to tend to Malachi.
Jasmine removed the extra layer of clothing and wrapped it around Malachi's body like a blanket. She used the crumbly piece of bread she'd been holding and placed tiny pieces of it on Malachi's tongue, which he swallowed with some difficulty, and offered slow sips of water in between each miniscule bite. When there was nothing left she could do for him, and she felt half frozen herself, Jasmine stood to go.
A croaked noise came Malachi's raked vocals. The sheer effort it took for him to speak must've been pure hell. Jasmine returned to his side, squatting down to better hear him.
Swollen eyelids barely lifted as he repeated, "Leech."
Jasmine's face dropped. Who was a leech?
"You," Malachi answered.
"How am I a leech?" What the hell was his problem? She wasn't the one who beat and bound him. Contrarily she was the only reason he'd live to see morning. "I'm the only one trying to help you, Malachi. In spite of what you did to my people."
Each time he spoke it was chopped and breathless, but Jasmine could make out enough of what was said.
"You only want to help yourself. That's why. You feed off people's miseries by doing good deeds for them. It gives you value. Makes you feel better about yourself. Never mind what happens when you look away, so long as you did something 'nice.' You feed off others weaknesses by inserting yourself where you don't belong. Pretending to want to fix, redeem. You're a blood sucking leech."
Her stomach twisted in knots, tongue digging into the pits of her teeth as she listened. "I'll check on you again if I can. T-try and bring you some fire."
"You're just like Cyrus. You're no fucking saint. Save your handouts. Bitch."
"What the hell is your problem!" Jasmine shouted now, standing above him. He would have to fight through the pain if he wanted to insult her. Which apparently, he did and found the task worth it. Though hoarsely, he even laughed.
"You really don't see it do you? You think you're such a victim. Helpless heroine in all of this. An innocent princess with no say, little options. Aladdin was right about you . . . Lilura was right too."
"I don't even know who that is."
"She knows you – your family. Said you're deceitful like your father and a wicked whore like your mother."
She broke with a defensive roar. "My father is a good and decent man. Something you know nothing about. As for my mother – I don't have to explain anything to some murderous thug! I came over here to help you because that's who I am!"
"You don't know who you are. But I do. Lilura does." Malachi looked at her with pure hatred. "See that's what makes you worse than people like me; even people like Jafar. You hide behind those baby doe eyes and that innocent smile when deep inside you're really a fucked-up demon yourself. Least 'murderous thugs' like me admit to what we are."
"Fuck you." Jasmine breathed; too caught up to notice Jafar's rapid approach.
"Ask your warped husband about what your mother really was. About your father. Even he knows I'm right. He knows the fucked-up bloodline which you come from. Its embedded in you – you're not fighting the darkness you're drawn to it…"
Jafar bashed Malachi in the head with his staff knocking him unconscious and yet the real damage had been done to Jasmine.
"What was he talking about, Jafar?"
Jafar re-sacked Malachi's head then grabbed jasmine under the arm and lead her back to the camp fire.
"He talked about Lilura again. That she knew my mother and father. What was he talking about? Jafar, please."
"That's the last time I allow you to do something against my instincts." Jafar murmured bitterly, pulling off his overcoat to drape around Jasmine's small body, then fetched another for himself. He wrapped Jasmine in his arms to provide warmth but she frantically struggled away.
"Tell me what's going on and don't you dare lie again. I know you know who Lilura is; there's more you haven't been telling me and now it involves both my parents and I demand an explanation right now!"
Jafar wore a pensive expression, looking down at her with solid eyes then up at the horizon as if it held the answers for what he should say next. There was clear confliction, Jasmine could read, but after a mitigated exhale Jafar had decided.
Jafar extended a palm for Jasmine to take a seat but she declined. Bending, Jafar smoothed the front of his chest as he sat, carrying himself in a way that made the boulder look like a throne. "Yes. I have lied. I know who Lilura is because . . . Sahara was her apprentice."
That did require Jasmine to sit down. On arms that rested atop her thighs Jasmine leaned forward with reticent intrigue. Jafar licked his lips then tugged at the length of his beard before continuing. He was in no way ready for what was sure to follow.
"Sahara wasn't always a sorceress. When she was your age she was married to Hamed and discontent with her life. She met a witch in the streets of Agrabah."
"Lilura."
He gave a confirmational nod. "As Sahara's power grew so did her lust for more of it. She wanted to be perpetual like Lilura, which was impossible. Lilura is not . . . entirely human. Rather something else. Ancient. Lilura told Sahara an erroneous lie: that in order to become immortal she needed to violate the purity of her soul by practicing blood magic. At that time Sahara had become pregnant. Eventually, she lost herself even to a point that I did not recognize her. She desecrated anything that was pure to get a taste of what Lilura promised.
The obsession to live eternal made her soul blacker than ever. It's one of the reasons I searched for the djinns lamp. So that she could wish for immortality rather than lose her soul with blood magic. Though I now know that wouldn't have worked either." Jafar broke the intensity of his stare for the first time since speaking. A wave of covert emotions flickering across his features.
"I couldn't stop her, Jasmine. When you were old enough Sahara had turned her rituals to the purest blood she could find. Yours."
"That's not possible." Jasmine sat defensively stiff. "Look, I've come to accept the fact that my mother was a sorceress, that she made poor choices but to say she was a blood harvesting witch who . . . what? Cut me? That never happened."
"It did."
"I would remember something like that."
"Not if it traumatized you." The pained sincerity in those black eyes were too validating to deny. Still she tried.
"How would you know unless you were there when it happened. Were you part of it too?"
"No. Jasmine. I am many things but even I have morals which Sahara surpassed in the end. When I knew she'd began using you in her rituals I made sure Hamed found the truth for himself."
"Now I'm supposed to believe you're the hero in this tale?" Her face heated with a flash of anger. "And Baba? What accusation will you make against him!?"
The muscles of his jaw flexed as did his neck. This was pointless, she'd never believe him anyway but damnit there was even less reason to hide it anymore. "To protect you Hamed murdered Sahara in cold blood."
That was it. She was done listening. "You're a liar." Her jaw opened rolling to one side as she smiled ironically. "You're a lying, bastard. You just can't stop trying to hurt me, can you?"
His eyes blackened. "You asked for the truth and I gave it to you."
"Why the hell should I believe you! You hate my Baba. You'd do and say anything right now to keep my spirits crushed so you can keep control. I thought you cared for me, just for an instant when you were driveling on in those caves about how you need me, but now I know Cyrus was right. There is no hope between us. There never was any. Why are you so cruel!?"
Jafar stood as she did, squaring his chest with poorly retained patience. "There's many cruel things in this world Jasmine but my honesty hardly counts as one of them."
"Then why not tell me sooner? Years ago!"
"I kept those secrets because they were not mine to reveal. It was better for you to remember Sahara as a good loving woman and your father as a guiltless man than to know the ugly truth."
"My life was never filled with all this 'ugliness' until you came into it!"
"Like it or not sweetheart you've been living in it your entire life; blinded by the very shadows around you. I brought you out of it because I'm the only one decent enough to do you the favor. In spite of the hurt it causes."
"Don't patronize me, you want this. You want me hurt!"
"I want you to be strong!" he bellowed, slicing the air with his gestures. "You keep waiting for everything to finally be perfect then break down in tears and fall apart when it's not. You're searching for a line to separate good and evil, but there isn't one. There is only ever the interpretation of survival. I despise Hamed for what he did but I recognize why he did it! Until you accept the fact that everyone will eventually disappoint you, you'll remain lost and angry for all the wrong reasons."
"I'm angry at you!"
"Because I revealed the truth!? That your father took away your mother; a woman who not only fucked prostitutes and her husband's vizier, but practiced the blackest magic known to man using their little girl as a vital part of those rituals." Jafar briefly clenched his hands then ran large knuckles over his jawline. "You ask for truth but then you snap at the slightest gust of it's weight." He snapped his fingers near her face.
Jasmine trembled in anxiety and the onset of a headache throbbed in her temples. He was right. She should just accept. Adapt. Move on. But this was no longer under control.
"You knew Lilura... Which means you knew she was with the Thieves this entire time. You betrayed Agrabah. You knew they were coming that day, didn't you? That's why you left that morning."
Jafar looked murderous and nauseous by the accusation yet Jasmine was unrelenting.
"Even if not, you still knew where to find the Thieves. You brought us out here because they have something you want, something you couldn't get without Malachi. You've been torturing him for information, not about the Thieves hideout, but for a thing. An object, a relic, maybe another fucking lamp! If anything, you are the one who would sell your soul to Lilura to become immortal! You are the one who would cut me, use my blood for a ritual and kill my mother in the process! You're a greedy, slimy, cunt!"
"That's enough!" Jafar screeched from his gut and she surpassed his ugliness with her own.
"You'll stop at nothing to take what isn't yours! My mother! The Genie! My Father's throne! Cyrus' Son! Me! You're a pitiful human being; it's no wonder your own mother beat and despised you. She saw how ugly you were the minute you were born and wanted to kill you! You're a hollow shell of nothing and you don't deserve love. You don't deserve anything but death!"
Jafar's face fell and Jasmine blinked rapidly with a tightening chest.
Oh Allah. That was not her voice. They were not her words. But they'd come from her mouth all the same. Maybe they were feelings she'd harbored in the angriest part of her heart, but never something she would've dared give life to. And now she had, and despite how desperately she wanted to take it back, it couldn't be done.
"Jafar I –."
"Is that why you continue throwing yourself on my cock little whore?" Jafar growled, pain lacing the venom in his retort. "Deny it all you wish mouse, but you are drawn to the blackness inside of me because you're clearly fucked up like I am. Unsurprising considering who spawned you. I must say, I never saw it until just now . . . you're the spitting image of Sahara. I only wish I'd seen it before. I'd have never married you."
God that hurt more than anything else had up to now. You deserve it.
Weakly she whispered, "I don't want you near me."
"Couldn't agree more," Jafar bit behind clenched teeth. She rushed past him and he closed his eyes tightly. A sinking weight in his stomach at the realization. He headed off in the opposite direction.
Inside the tent Jasmine sat numbly on the bedding. Everything that led up to this point raced through her mind. Playing again on a loop, combing through the details of how things had turned so ugly so fast. Her father killed her mother. Her mother nearly killed her. Jafar had nothing to do with either of those facts yet she blamed him for all of it.
Worse. She used his weakness against him. Confirming everything that evil woman fed him in his youth: he was worthless, unloved, ugly. Out of hurt she hurt him. Again. Maybe evil wasn't so black and white. There was too much in between and Jasmine stood in the threshold of both worlds.
Her body shook in jittering spurts as she tried to catch her breath. Malachi was right. She no longer knew who she was.
Nothing would ever be the same again. She wasn't sure she wanted it to be.
Jafar tossed Malachi over the back of his steed, the boy still unconscious from the blow to the head, then mounted swiftly and took off. He rode the horse hard, the animal's legs nearly giving out a few times at Jafar's relentless commands. It was the middle of the night when Jafar arrived at a village near Jerusalem.
Jafar led the horse down an alley of drab clay houses. The loud sotto prattling of women stemmed from the home he approached; seconds later Tzipporah emerged from her sister's house. Jafar could see Hadassah peeking out the door before another woman pulled her back inside.
"Tzipporah." Jafar droned dully as they met.
*Whack* She fixed him with the flat of her palm.
"What have you done to my son!" Tzipporah pointed to the unconscious, bloodied, body. Her eyes puffy from nights of crying. "I asked for your help! Beating my child was never part of the deal."
"Perhaps if you'd beaten him more often he'd not have grown into such a wild little shit."
Jafar retorted with a sneer and she swatted him across the other side of his face. Apparently tonight was the night to invoke the wrath of women. Jafar's frustration pushed his innermost psychosis to the surface; but he kept morality in place.
"I fail to see the problem. Your son attacked my city. I'm within every right to slaughter him, and your entire family in the process, should I so please." Flinty eyes probed her worried ones. "You reached out to me behind your husband's back."
Which was true. Years ago, after Cyrus had written Jafar regarding his broken family, Tzipporah too had sent a letter of her own. She had suspicions regarding what happened between Cyrus, Malachi and Mirela, but could never openly accuse her husband. Knowing Jafar had been Cyrus' oldest friend, she asked for help. Humbly, Tzipporah pleaded that Jafar get Cyrus to reveal the truth and more importantly, get her son back from the Thieves. Like Cyrus' letter, Tzipporah's had gone unanswered. Until three weeks ago when Jafar finally saw any profit from being involved. Now he was delivering on that promise, even though there were a million reasons to betray it.
"Be grateful I found the slightest motivation to even visit that poor dung hole you call a home." Jafar rose a brow peering condescendingly at the women who helped carry Malachi down off the steed. It took four of them to do it, despite how thin the boy was. Jafar faced around again. "Though it appears I drew the short straw of our arrangement."
"You promised not to kill him! Look at him! He's as good as dead!"
Jafar bowed his head to level with her height. "You promised your son would be invaluable. Which he was not. He held no credible intel about the artifact I'm after, nor did he know where the Thieves treasure cove is hidden. Clearly, he's as untrustworthy to them as he is to your husband." Broad shoulders drew back in regality. "Cyrus is fine by the way – I know he informed you of Malachi's attack. And even as he wrote with a bleeding heart, beseeching your return, you failed to so much as send a response." Jafar rocked a long finger side to side. "Very cold-hearted, Tzipporah."
"I couldn't write to him yet! He'd kill me to know I went behind his back; I can't lie to him anymore either." Tzipporah watched shakily as her mangled son was carried past her and into the house. Tzipporah's tiny frame suddenly felt ten feet tall as she whirled around on Jafar. "I should never have trusted you to do the right thing. You're a snake! Vile wretch!"
"Tell me woman, did your husband not finally confess to the travesty he committed? Did you not get your son back after all these wasted years? The way I see it without my help Cyrus never would have felt compelled to tell you the shameful truth. And if he hadn't confessed you wouldn't have had the justification to leave. Thereby breaking him apart and shattering his pride; leaving him in such a desperate state, he did the one thing he swore never to do: reach out to Malachi. The way I see it, a few bruises and busted knee caps is a small price to pay for the closure I've brought your family." Jafar's thin tongue flicked between flattened lips. "Feel free to show a little gratitude."
Tzipporah punched him straight in the mouth causing some blood to coat the inside of his lip.
Tzipporah's plain features were twisted as she huffed through her nose. "There is your gratitude."
Jafar rolled his jaw forward. With sheer amusement he said, "On the bright side only one of your children is a criminal; though I've little expectations for how the others fare." Tzipporah scrunched the sides of her dress seething and marched towards the house. "I've hope for Opal though." Jafar added when the door slammed shut and he chuckled, nursing his jaw.
"Teach her to hit like that and she'll be in good standing." He murmured, then mounted the stallion, yanking its reigns so it turned back the way they'd come. He was purely exhausted but there was one more stop to make.
A caravan similar to a little house came into view directly by the Jordan river. Four burly men were placed around the outside like Cerberus guarding the gates of Hades. Jafar would find no trouble with them. His gait was done in fast strides as he moved past their unmoving forms, up the measly steps and into the home. Inside, the caravan was elegantly decrepit, smelling of incense and herbs of the world. It was vastly larger within than it was on the outside, with tall ceilings and a single hallway that ran deep into a black corridor of nothingness. It was cluttered, musty, and overall made Jafar highly uneasy. A witch's home through and through.
"Jafar." Lilura purred his name like a cat in heat, rising gracefully from a depressed sofa.
Jafar's honeyed smile widened with erroneous welcome. "The lovely Lilura." Then with crisp precision Jafar snatched the woman by her throat and squeezed with homicidal intent.
Fear stricken Lilura's eyes widened then she gave a warped grin. "Skipping straight to the foreplay," Lilura breathlessly crooned. "I like that."
Jafar constricted with such vehemence his fingertips sank into her skin. "You've been inside my wife's head, haven't you? Creating nightmares as you feed on her mind and plant thoughts that are not her own."
"I don't know what you're talk –." Lilura wheezed, complexion forming purple blotches.
"She's been screaming in her sleep! And tonight, she was so ugly hearted that I didn't even recognize her!"
"Is it not your own doing? Afterall I'd never be able to get inside that pretty little head had you not split it wide open. I merely feasted off your handiwork for a little fun." Dragon green orbs scanned his twisted expression. "But that's hardly the real cause of your outrage with me."
Well it was the most prominent but that did lead to the next issue.
With a skin-tight smile Jafar growled, "I find it ironic that in our conversations the last two months you failed to mention you were hiding among the Thieves."
"It was none of your business."
"You've fucked with what I hold most dear, so that's precisely what it is, dearie." Jafar squeezed tighter, magic forming into a ball in his hands out of uncontrolled rage than actual intention. "Here's what I think happened. After the djinn enhanced my powers you finally saw me as competition and thought you could send scumbags after me to eliminate the threat I now pose."
He could feel the skin of her neck melting in his palm. Within a minute her head would be severed from her body.
She screeched like metal fatigue. "Speculation . . . You know you can trust me."
"When you run your mouth like a dog with a scolded tongue you tend to lose credibility. I'm starting to think this alliance has run its course." Because of the Djinn Jafar was nearly as powerful as she was.
"Is this really how you want it to go?" It now sounded like an entity no longer able to imitate a human voice. "You know I can't die."
"Not indefinitely, but that doesn't mean you can't feel pain. If I find out you're lying I will bleed you dry, starve you, tear out your innards and start all over again." Jafar shook his mighty fist. Then, before her neck fully dissolved he released her with a toss, her slender body crumpling on the sofa.
The creature's sucking inhale sounded like a collection of animal noises coined together. Lilura held what remained of her throat, the tendons and skin a disfigured slimy mess. Jafar cleaned off his hand with a wave of the other and watched disgusted as Lilura's wounds began to close and regenerate to healthy beautiful flesh.
Jafar felt queasy. Foul.
"That was hardly called for." Lilura said in that fruitful voice as she dusted herself off. As if near decapitation was as forgivable as a flea bite. She made way around an apothecary desk, using magic to conjure two cups and pour hot water over a type of herb Jafar didn't recognize.
He would not be drinking that.
"You seem more agitated than usual." Lilura smiled in that soul devouring way.
No shit? "You lied to me and invaded my wife's mind." Jafar reiterated as he sat across her with staff securely in hand. Her archaic eyes flashed to it then to the cup of tea.
"Besides that." She waved it away, "I sense some trouble in paradise, pet. Jasmine unable to fulfill your darkest fantasies? She's too vanilla for you."
"I can't fathom a situation in which that would ever be any of your business." Jafar declared silkily. "I've held up my end of our agreement now I want what you promised me." And to get the hell out of there.
"How is that impish little friend of yours? Abis Mal wasn't it? He was caught snooping around the Thieves quarters for their treasure cove."
He remained indifferent at best, barely rising his brows.
"He said you asked him to find it and search for some orb or necklace? Details were hard to make out over his screams of agony – the scourge sucked his soul right out before I could get a definitive answer." Her eyes shifted to the color of brimstone, her mouth growing unnaturally wide as she angelically froze. "Now who's the one being deceptive?"
Too much time passed for comfort with her not blinking. Jafar gave nothing away shoving down every instinct to shoot the witch down and run.
Lilura chuckled, eyes returning to normalcy as did her smile. "Don't look so serious, pet. I know what you've been after. You think that if you find it you can defy the laws of magic and in turn defeat monsters like myself. You're hardly the first to search for that mythical relic. I don't take it offensive." A sharp shoulder rolled forward. "Especially since I can save you the trouble and tell you the Thieves never did have it nor know where it is."
That was somewhat of a relief. At least that meant Lilura still didn't know where it was either.
"As far as my correlation with the Thieves goes, I thought they'd provide some use to me for a short time. But it had nothing to do with Agrabah – Roel had his own agenda. One that bored me. Unimaginative insipid casualties, settling scores with old enemies..." Lilura made a talking motion with her hand as she finished the last of the tea.
"I have it on good authority you were the weapon the Thieves were planning to use against me." Jafar inclined with businesslike casualty.
Lilura cackled in a horrifying yet lovely manner. "How absurd. That sounds like Aladdin's work to me. Spreading rumors to try and win back that woman of his. Oh, excuse me. Your woman. No doubt he also declared his love for her thereby offering the only thing he thinks she wants. Your head."
"You've been with Aladdin." He ignored the rest.
Lilura sat back in the high-backed chair pressing the tip of her tongue to drag along the line of her top teeth; a glint in her eyes.
"Ah," Jafar smiled in acknowledgment. "You have him then?"
"I have him."
"What do you want for him?"
"Shh shh shh, let's not get ahead of ourselves. We've still old business to close before we speak of new business."
From his chest pocket Jafar languidly pulled out the book he'd confiscated from Jasmine and held it for Lilura. Her tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth as anxious talons itched to snatch the book then fell empty handed when Jafar yanked it back.
"I know every single item in my tower straight down to the crack in its mortar and I've never seen this before. How did Jasmine find it in my things?"
Lilura wrinkled her nose ever delighted to impart information he lacked. (Which was rare, he might add.)
"Like all magic this is its own living breathing entity, formed centuries before my time."
"Nonsense." His ankle crossed over a knee. "Despite the infirmity of old age, you don't look a day over a millennium."
"It chose her," Lilura snapped at the slight, stabbing the table with overgrown fingernails. "Just as it has chosen others in the past. When Jasmine sought to clear her mother's name of scandal, and by extension yours, it found her. Only ever appearing to someone with pure heart and selfless intention it's eluded me all these ages. Until now."
With only the faintest hint of a smile Jafar released an intense laugh. "I'm growing infinitely more curious as to how precious this tattered thing really is. Clearly valued far above what you originally let on, no doubt."
His narrowed eyes twitched when Lilura made no delay to conjure up a small scroll and slid it over for him. That was what they had agreed upon. The scroll in exchange for the book. But Lilura was too eager therefore Jafar wanted more for his troubles.
"The stone and beacon as well."
Her thinly plastered eyebrow waggled at the mention of the two innocuous objects but Lilura held back any riposte. "Done."
He wasn't. "And to get back on my good graces I want the Thieves, hand delivered by you to save me trouble and prove you're no longer associated. Right now."
Lilura rolled her neck with a salacious exhale. "I hoped you would. Walk this way, won't you, ófis*?" Lilura led the way out the side door of the cottage, a train of dark green undertones dragging behind her nimble feet.
Cries of terror tickled his ears like a symphony before he even reached the edge of the cliff and peered down. By the hundreds there were men dressed in that dark blue a black dressing he'd come to abhor. They clawed at the dirt, screeching in vain for help. Jafar felt Lilura's arm slip in the crook of his. He was so elated at the gift she'd offered he didn't even mind the contact.
"May I watch? It's been so long since I've seen something truly vile."
It was sick and pathetic he knew, but that acknowledgment, the acceptance for him to be who he was without judgmental condemnation gave Jafar a sense of peace. He didn't have to hide behind a mask out of fear for who he'd hurt in the process. He could just be himself.
Sneering, Jafar upturned a hooked hand, magic bubbling, gathering like white fire in the palm of his hand. He thrust it out and the magic shattered like fireworks in the sky before raining down into the pit of men. Upon contact their skin began to bubble. Like boiling water, the Thieves burned slowly, from the inside out. They began clawing at their skin, tearing out their eyes, ripping open their chests in frantic hallucination to make the pain cease. One by one they killed themselves, dying off like ants burned with glass. Lilura admired his work with content silence and opted to even kiss his cheek in celebration.
Jafar mutedly handed over the book and she the small artifacts he requested.
"I'm ready to make a deal for the street rat." Jafar said turning away with Lilura as they headed back towards his stallion. A skeletally hand rubbed his forearm, up his bicep and back again, the touch making his skin crawl.
"In time love. You have something I'll want; eventually. And when that time comes you'll know."
Jafar didn't like the sound of that but bit his tongue on the matter. He faced her unlatching her hooks from his arm and accepted a kiss on the cheek, then the lips. Jafar grimaced as her tongue pried his lips apart, the taste bitter sweet then metallic as she bit down on his tongue. Such wanton pain would've usually aroused him but it didn't now. Not after having someone like Jasmine.
"Give your princess my regards? Let her know I thoroughly enjoy the taste of her husband." Lilura held him by the back of the neck. "Until next time, pet."
Jafar gave a lustful little smirk. Using the length of his staff he pressed Lilura to him and wound a fistful of her hair in the other hand. "Let me clue you in on a secret, pet."
Lilura hummed, rolling her sex against his.
"If you ever mess with my wife again . . . I will fucking destroy you." Jafar ripped the back of her hair, pulling a chunk of it out of her skull and her eyes flashed to a threatening ice blue. "If I so much as catch a whiff of your stench on her there's no rock you can hide under nor forces of hell that will protect you from me. I will cut you down and send you back to the pit of hell which you crawled out of."
"I liked you better when you were Sahara's bitch." She hissed, neck craning so far back it was likely to snap.
Jafar merely sneered, "glad we have an understanding," then shoved the creature violently away. He stood regally, hands clasped around his staff in preparation for a fight.
"You won't be able to keep her forever. We both know that. And the harder you hold on the harder it's going to come back and bite you in the dick."
His chest tightened but Jafar gave no inclination of the quavering in his gut. With a sharp flick Lilura, her men and carriage, vanished.
It was finished. For now, at least.
That morning Jasmine awoke to an empty tent. From the looks of it Jafar never came in and she'd fallen asleep by crying. Her eyes were heavily swollen and by the feel of crusted skin it was likely a combination of drool and snot had dried around her mouth. Thank Allah Jafar wasn't there after all. She hurried to make herself presentable, licking the edge of her wool shirt to wipe away the marks on her face. She'd kill for a hot bath and couldn't wait to get home today.
Jasmine tied her hair in a braid smoothing the wild hairs best she could before hunger got the best of her and drug her outside. It was barely dawn and Jafar was nowhere to be seen. Jasmine struck up the fire and started eating one of the fruit porridge cakes as she combed over, for the hundredth time, how she would apologize for last night.
She could fix this. They were so close to a breakthrough in their marriage just a week ago and she wanted to get there again. It was a manner of life or death at this point.
Honey whinnied from her post and Jasmine looked in the opposing direction to see Jafar riding their way. The black stallion whinnied back and Honey reared up in excitement. Jasmine made her way meeting Jafar as he dismounted.
"Did you leave me here alone all night?" The accusation was more out of fear than anger. He gave a cold sideways glance. "What about robbers, thugs, the Thieves?"
"I cast a shield over the camp last night. I'm not a fool."
Jasmine pulled a face opting for a less reproving tone. "Where did you go?"
Jafar sneered callously as if she lost the right to ask questions. "I returned Malachi to Safed."
Truly? "Alive?" She hadn't even thought to check in on him, she'd been too wrapped up in her own issues. "Why would you do that?"
"We're leaving. Now." Jafar took up his staff and within a blink of an eye the provisions, tent, and even the fire was cleaned up and packed away. He hardly never used his magic like that. Not for something so trivial; it was unnerving.
"You're in a hurry. You seem anxious. Something wrong? Jafar wait. . ." Jasmine touched his arm and he looked at her hand as if it held a weapon. She slipped her fingers down, lacing them with his and drew closer. "About last night."
They each rushed their words to layer over the other's.
"There's nothing to discuss."
"I was wrong."
Jasmine waywardly smiled repeating, "I was wrong. How I responded to all of this, to Malachi even. Jafar its been so difficult to give up the life I knew – the life I thought I always had. To discover neither of my parents were who I thought . . . it makes me unsure of who I am. What the right choice is anymore."
Allah this was embarrassing but she persevered.
"Jafar you've been trying to change lately. In fact, you've changed so much the last five months. I have too . . . in good and bad ways I suppose. What I'm trying to say is I do care for you. More than I ever thought possible. I admire your honesty and ability to keep secrets to protect others. You didn't have to tell me the truth and you did . . .I never should have blamed you for doing that. It was good and decent of you. I needed to hear it and I don't think I could get through that if I didn't have you." She squeezed his hand stepping closer and she felt him draw a sharp breath. "I do trust you –"
"– I poisoned your father," Jafar interjected dead eyed.
Her smile went stiff in an effort not to fall apart. Jafar withdrew from her touch allowing her hands to fall dead weighted at her sides.
"By the time Hamed announced your engagement to Aladdin I had already been slipping poison into his drinks for some time. The same poison he used to kill your mother only I used small doses to make the effects gradual. I wanted him to suffer, slowly, before a final death."
The decorative lines of Jafar's thobe turned into blobbed shapes as her vision blurred; his voice becoming muffled as the shock set in.
"The only reason Hamed is still alive is because I stopped medicating him before you ran away. Regardless, the damage had already been done and his current health is a result. Previously I decided to let you keep your father because I wanted added leverage over you. But I don't want that anymore. In fact, I stopped wanting that ever since I nearly lost you to your injuries. I want you to have your father because I know you'd be devastated to lose the only man you love."
"Why –." Weakly she cleared her throat. "Why do that to him knowing he was protecting me?"
The question took him slightly off guard but required little thought. "I may have detested plenty about Sahara but she was the first and only person to ever tell me I had value. I owe everything I am, my very life, to that woman. Hamed stole her in a cowardly way so I repaid him on her behalf."
"And now you've stolen him away from me." Sluggishly the awareness set it, as did a slew of emotions. "You left me a vessel. He's not my Baba. He doesn't even know who I am. He's constantly in pain. Confused. Scared. Its crueler than if you'd actually taken his life." Jasmine's neck corded, the back of her throat burning as she sucked down a cultivating scream.
"Jasmine – I truly regret how this has hurt you." he struggled with such deference, but did mean it.
"Then undo it."
"I can't."
"Why."
The anguish in her voice penetrated Jafar at his heart. "Magic is not that simple, Jasmine. I would if there was a way but –."
Jasmine snatched a sword hanging from the belt of the stallion and aimed the blade at Jafar's heart. He didn't move to stop her.
"Put it down. Before you hurt yourself."
The blade shot up to his jugular forcing his head higher. Jafar peered evenly down at Jasmine for any trace of Lilura's forces at work. There were none. It was solely the carnage of his wife's broken heart.
"Give me one good reason not to kill you."
A baritone chuckle rumbled from Jafar's chest and she pressed the tip against his skin.
"Out of all the threats made against my life, not once have I begged for it. I'm sure as hell not starting today."
Jasmine's sureness cracked, her hands trembling so violently she feared she'd cut him on accident. What sort of daughter was she to let Baba's attacker go unpunished? What sort of person would she be to kill her husband? It begged the question which one was more justifiable. Either way she betrayed someone, betrayed herself. She loved Baba but she had feelings, no matter how unconventional, for Jafar. There was blame all around. No one was guiltless in this, which made the decision that much more clouded.
That'd been in the beginning too. So much has changed since then. Jafar's not the same man anymore.
That doesn't make it right. Jasmine struggled inwardly.
Neither does killing him.
Jafar had ample time to disarm her. Hell, he could do it with just a flick of the wrist. But he allowed her this choice without malice or resentment. Jasmine's elbows dropped, slightly lowering the blade.
"Either let me go and get on that horse, or be done with it. Kill me."
He was collected, sure of everything he did even when it might cost his own life. He didn't crumble like her. Didn't question himself the way she questioned everything. She wished to have a hint of that confidence now.
One thing is certain. You are not a killer.
Jasmine yanked the blade away with a sharp exhale then stepped forward with head held high. The sun began its ascent and reflected like orange auburn in his eyes. She could tell he was ready to touch her, part of Jasmine wanted him to, to offer comfort and solace, but this was hardly the time for that.
"Let me be clear," Jasmine bit and he retracted his hand. "The only reason I was rescued from Sahara is because you hinted for Hamed to come find me. You saved my life once. And now I've spared yours." Almond eyes looked him once over. "We're even." Shoving the blade's handle against his chest Jasmine numbly brushed past.
In unperturbed silence they made it back to Agrabah by sundown.