Trigger Warning: Small references of fear of rape, nothing graphic.

Chapter 1: Stolen Moments

Jasmine shivered as her handmaid tightened the strings at the back of her dress. While every pull constricted her lungs further, she was convinced that the rest of the evening would suffocate her. Dalia, her only friend, remained quiet as she put the finishing touches on the dress.

"Will it hurt?" Jasmine stifled a cry. On any other day, the pathetic pout would have filled her with disgust. Yet, the terror had grown to consume her over the past few hours and it had become too much to bear. Knowing that in only a few short hours she would return to her bed chambers, only accompanied by a lustful stranger.

For many months now marriage had seemed inevitable. The sultan had become obsessed in his search for suitors and it felt as if Agrabah had welcomed a new visiting prince every week. She hadn't, however, expected him to turn so brashly. Jasmine's father had been distant and even stern at times, but he had never been cruel. That was, of course, until now.

"I have never been married," her friend reminded her quietly.

"But you know, don't you?" Her voice continued to tremble. Dalia hid her gaze as she focused on her work, though her hands slowed as she answered.

"Yes, that is what I have heard. But only at first."

The emotions finally burst and her hand came to cover her mouth. She did her best to keep the tears silent, but it seemed that nothing could contain them. For so long she had refused to think of her wedding night; both understanding that one day she would have no choice but to share a bed without love, but also believing that she had years to prepare.

Jasmine called out to her mother in silent prayer. Begging for a miracle, for the queen's memory to soften her father's cold heart. Had her mother yet lived, Jasmine was certain that she would not be forced to endure this torment. Quite the contrary, she would have reviled her husband's treatment of their only daughter.

"I'm sorry, Jasmine," Dalia's arms came around her. The sorrow in her friend's voice could not be missed and Jasmine clung to the affection she felt for the handmaiden. At least there was one person in her life willing to understand. Would her husband allow them time together?

"I should have run," she sniffed.

"Your heart would never allow it," the handmaid whispered. "You love your country too much."

Jasmine shook her head against the woman's shoulder. Every prince that entered their gates had fallen into a predictable pattern; having been either a man with eyes gleaming for the chance to sit on her throne, or a man practically giddy as his hungry eyes fell upon her form. Disgust, it was all she ever felt for the men that came to court the princess. "And now I must watch as it is taken from me."

"Maybe he will be different," she suggested as they pulled apart. "I have only ever heard good things about his kingdom."

"Don't be foolish," she snapped through her sniffles. "He is abandoning his own people to conquer ours. It's no secret that every kingdom envies Agrabah's position and trades. That is all they care for."

A part of her hoped that Dalia would argue further, that she might offer some piece of convincing advice to help her cope with the man she would be forced to spend her life with. However, the handmaiden simply nodded in defeat. With great reluctance, she finalized the details of the dress. A knock on the door sounded before a servant bowed in the entry way.

"It is time, your highness."

The servant girl left as quickly as she had come. Jasmine could not help but stare after the woman, while her heart reached out in envy. It was a silly concept for a child of royalty to wish to be a lowly servant, but she knew far better than anyone that higher status meant nothing to Agrabah.

The queen had a far greater success in choosing her own path. Jasmine could never forget the love in her parents eyes every time they stood in each other's presence. Her heart fell at the reminder that she would never obtain the gift that her parents had been given. A gift that should be offered to all.

"We have to go, Jasmine." Dalia spoke quietly. Though the handmaiden remained loyal to her duties, the guilt gnawing at her was obvious in her stare. It was easy for Jasmine to nod in understanding, knowing that she would never place blame upon her dearest friend.

They walked slowly into the halls, taking more time than was necessary to navigate to the courtyard. The sultan was waiting, notably impatiently as they neared. Jasmine hated the level of distain she had developed for her father. Having held on to his love for so long, even when the strands had grown thin after the queen's death. He fell to grief on his own, leaving her to suffer in silence. She had always forgiven him and strove to mend their relationship; yet now, if there was any love remaining for the sultan she failed to feel it.

He offered his arm, but she refused the touch. Instead she stood next to him, glaring onward at the small crowd of royals that had gathered. A wedding should be filled with loved ones, smiling joyfully as two souls became one. That was the beauty in which her mother promised would come of this day. Instead, a chill flowed through her as the crowd looked upon her as no more than Agrabah's bargaining chip; a contract that would benefit all others but her. When her father lowered his arm with a sigh, they stepped forward together.

She finally met his gaze. The prince was new to her eyes, and the princess was uncertain whether-or-not that was a good thing. Under any other circumstances, she would have thought his smile to be kind. However, there was nothing kind about this man. The term did not befit a person who would forcefully bind another. Blinking back all traces of tears, Jasmine stared at the ground in refusal to allow him any satisfaction for her torment. Even when she turned to face the prince, she refused to meet his eyes.

The dress began to feel tighter and the Jasmine began to fear that she truly was suffocating. Her body grew uncomfortably hot, while her head began to spin. Having been so caught up in her own mind, she failed to realize the ceremony had even begun. It wasn't until hearing his quiet "I do" that she was snapped back to the present.

She finally looked up to see the man clearly. There was a frown replacing his smile, no doubt out of frustration for her unwillingness to feign happiness. If her heart hadn't been beating so rapidly, she would have offered him the most wicked stare she could muster. However, it took all her focus to restrain her trembling lips.

"Princess Jasmine," their presenter turned his attention towards her. "Do you take Prince Ali to be your husband?"

Ali. So that was her captor's name. She continued to stare at the imam. Begging him with her eyes to find a way to free her from this madness. Surely, he would reject this unholy occasion. However, with a sorrowful nod he insisted on her answer. She then glanced to her father for one final plea of mercy, but was met with nothing other than a stoic stare. Her eyes closed as the tears swelled once more and she sighed before whispering.

"I do."

Jasmine's face reddened from mixed emotions and she could barely make out the words as the pair was announced. The small crowd erupted in applause and when she opened her eyes, a few unwelcomed tears escaped to her cheeks.

Ali appeared almost apologetic as he leaned in closer and her heart broke at the realization that she would be robbed of a joyful first kiss. There was no flutter of the heart, nor even any bright emotion as he stole the moment from her. His lips were stiff against hers, though she was grateful for his hasty retreat.

Jasmine wasn't sure why she met his eyes, nor why she even bothered to beg for his mercy through her desperate stare. His lips parted in the slightest and for a moment it looked as if he would speak. However, a sigh escaped his lips before holding out his arm. Her fingers trembled against his coat as she accepted, only for stability. A growing weakness practically paralyzed the princess as he guided her down the aisle and his hold was all that kept her standing.

Later, she would despise herself for accepting his help as he lowered her into a chair. A fantastic feast was served and the most beautiful music had been selected. Jasmine watched as the day turned to night, simmering in a pool of terrible emotions. She waited until Ali left her to mingle amongst the crowd before finally making her escape.


Her heart was exhausted from the day's torment as she walked away from the party; the party that should be for her benefit. She bit her tongue as a crowd burst into laughter. The pit of disgust festered as they all celebrated while she mourned her freedom.

She walked in great strides to her room, hoping her haste would discourage any followers; particularly one in mind. The slightest bit of hope remained that perhaps they had forgotten about Rajah and that he was waiting to save her in her bedroom. To her utter dismay, as she reached the room there was no sign of her loyal protector. Taking note of the claw marks at the entrance floor, she gathered that he had not left willingly.

A knock at her door sent her heart racing while her skin warmed a few degrees past what was comfortable. She didn't want to speak, for she knew her voice would betray her. The door opened as Hakim, her once loyal captain, welcome the snake into her room.

"Your highness," he saluted her slowly. She reminded herself that she should not judge the man so harshly, as he was simply following orders. However, as Ali entered the room all logic abandoned her.

"Thank you, captain," the man nodded politely. Hakim ducked his guilty gaze from them both before closing the door behind him. It was then that she realized only the pair remained; alone. So very alone. The air in the room felt thicker than a sandstorm, if her eyes could not see clearly she would've been certain she couldn't breathe.

Ali stared at her, and she realized that he could not doubt see her childish shivers. Quickly hiding her gaze, she was terrified to face a lust-filled stare.

"I like what you've done with the place," he finally broke the silence. His footsteps echoed as he explored her room. "Did you design it yourself?"

She swallowed at the lump in her throat before lifting her gaze to the man. Was he toying with her?

"My mother," she cleared her throat. "My mother designed it."

"Hmm," he mumbled in appreciation before scouting her room. He reached for an item, an old blanket it appeared, before lifting it to her. "May I use this?"

She looked over the man, confused as to why he was stalling. He appeared to take her silent stare for acceptance as he unraveled the cloth to spread around her sofa. When he finished, his gaze returned to her.

"Do you need any help with that dress?"

There it was. It was pathetic how mere words could unravel her. She breathed deeply in attempt to hold the tears from spilling, though nothing could stop one or two from sneaking onto her cheeks. The prince ducked his head.

"Princess, I am not going to hurt you." He spoke quietly but firmly. "I simply meant that it looks impossible to get out of that thing on your own."

"I'm fine." She had intended to speak defiantly, but the terror dissuaded anything above a whisper. He watched her with what might have appeared as sympathetic eyes had they belonged to any other. With a sigh, he began to close the gap between them.

"I would apologize for the circumstances that we have met, but I see in your eyes that my words would fail to move you."

She forced herself still, refusing to allow him any victory over making her feel powerless. Though, when he neared he pulled a blade from his belt. He held it between them as his fingers traced the intricate design on its sheath.

"My father gave me this when I was just a boy. I always hoped that I would never need the weapon, but I would hide it under my pillow just in case." He explained before meeting her gaze once more. Within another moment, he pushed the blade towards her gently.

Her gaze flickered between the knife and his eyes and she finally shook her head. "I don't understand."

"It's a gift," he explained softly. "Keep it close. It will help you sleep."

However, he surprised her once more when he nodded before sitting upon the couch.

"If it's alright with you, I have had a very long journey." He explained as he removed his shoes. Standing in complete awe, the princess watch him lay on the couch before bidding her a good night. She released a breath, waiting for him to change his mind; for him to recall being the horrid man that he was before crawling into her bed. When that moment did not come, she glanced at the knife in her hands.

Jasmine's fingers still trembled around the blade, though she could not deny the sense of security that it offered. She clutched it tightly in her palms before quietly crawling into bed. Her knuckles turned white from the fierce grasp, but the man remained still on his 'bed'. Exhaustion urged her lids to close, but she fought sleep for as long as her mind would allow. She only had to last the night, for in the morning she would search every inch of the palace to find Rajah. Then, she would have nothing to fear.


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Mkhishe3429 – I appreciate you sharing, thank you very much! I promise to try my very best to get every chapter out I really do not want to leave an incomplete story. Thanks for reading!