Disclaimer: Slightly humorous fic. And I mean slightly.
Jafar has a talk about marriage and proper dress with Jasmine. Features yelling and self-consciousness. Rated PG for mild language and subject the chill'uns might not want to hear.
Italics are used for emphasis, thought, and for most of the fic, quotes from the Qur'an that I found on various sites.
Jafar and Jasmine are a little OOC. This is before the first film, Jasmine is more insecure, and snottier, andJafar is not as power-hungry.
Irritation
"You will listen to me as I give you the orders!"
She arched her eyebrows, "Must I?"
"You will be married off! You will be visiting the princes of our neighboring provinces and you must for the good of the kingdom, princess!" he barked, waving about his staff in emphasis.
"I do not wish to be married off!" she shouted, her dark eyes flashing angrily.
Jafar was fuming. The "oh-so-lovely" Princess Jasmine had recently turned fifteen and was at a complete disregard for all traditions and rules regulating dress and manner. Her servants weren't telling her about the rules in the Qur'an and they probably weren't even reading any part of the holy book to her.
The vizier gritted his teeth, "You will obey the law and your father. It is law."
"I'll change the law when I rule," she hissed, crossing her arms over her chest and tossing her head back with great impudence.
"You cannot change the law of Allah! You blaspheme!" he spat out.
She pouted, "Whatever."
Jafar closed his eyes and slowly inhaled to calm himself. He mussed his hair beneath his turban in another attempt to soothe himself. "Your marriage to a prince provides Agrabah with treaties, allies, and land. Our kingdom has suffered throughout the centuries due to war and our size has dwindled. We have, currently in our possession, the main city outside and small rural towns and villages that pay the annual tax, and as of late, we've been receiving crops and livestock instead of coins. We need more land to help keep the kingdom from falling into ruin. Do you understand?"
Jasmine sighed, "I suppose so," she brushed a loose lock of hair behind her ear. She hated it when they came out of the braid. "I'm a prize to be won?"
He began to stroke his golden serpent staff, gaining a smug sense of power as he sensed the concealed magic. He smirked at the shrew, "You're no prize. A small token, really. Given to those that your father and I find suitable."
She stared, "I have no say in the matter?"
"Not really, princess. That is why you should be listening to me."
"What about a temporary marriage? A divorce?" she weakly asked, looking at him.
"For whores, princess," Jafar sneered and Jasmine scowled. "You wish to create and break agreements?" he asked incredulously.
"No," she replied with an insolent snort.
"Lesser women can divorce and marry however in accordance with the Law, but it is clear that you do not know the Law," he smirked again, twisting his beard with his elongated bony index finger.
"Then I will learn the Law," she bluntly declared, her hands on her hips.
"You should've started when you were a child."
"Then why didn't I?"
"Your father did not wish to bother you with it, and now he is paying the price. He wished to see you always as a silly little child, and now he sees you as a stubborn irresponsible girl."
"Wouldn't the Law consider me a woman?"
"Women have wisdom, duties, and a knowledge of the Law," The vizier laughed, "You have none of that."
"I am a woman!"
"Then dress like one!" he snarled.
She blinked. Her hands cautiously touched the fabric covering her arms and legs. She fondled her bracelets and necklace for a brief moment, wondering what was wrong.
Jafar hit himself in the forehead with his palm. Her servants have neglected to tell her anything that she may need to know in life!
"I will recite, then. For you," he slowly told her. He wanted to magnify her ignorance and make sure that she remembered.
Jasmine looked shamefully at the marble floor, she should know the Law.
"And tell the believing women to subdue their eyes, and maintain their chastity. They shall not reveal any parts of their bodies, except that which is necessary. They shall cover their chests, with their Khimar… you do know what your Khimar is?" he asked, wondering if she even knew her basic vocabulary.
"A covering," she whispered, tears beginning to fill her eyes.
"Very good," the vizier said dryly, "They shall not strike their feet when they walk in order to shake and reveal certain details of their bodies. All of you shall repent to Allah, O you believers, that you may succeed."
"Strike my feet?" she was confused, but she did not look up. It would only confirm that she was a child if he saw her cry.
"You will not draw attention to your body, which is, what you've been doing," his voice trailed off and his eyes lingered for a moment on her bare stomach and his eyes began to look farther up until her voice snapped him back.
"But I cover my chest!" She looked up, exasperated. She wanted to tear out her hair and not be married.
Jafar inhaled sharply and closed his eyes. He had no real desire of thinking about her bosom. "O prophet, tell your wives, your daughters, and the wives of the believers that they shall lengthen their garments. Thus, they will be recognized and avoid being insulted. Allah is Forgiver, Most Merciful."
The princess furiously ran her fingers through her black mane, her braid becoming undone, "Lengthen? How far?"
His eyes remained shut. Why did he have to remember that she was a woman? He hesitated, "You're… You're… naked."
Jasmine stopped fussing with her hair and growled at him, "What!"
The vizier turned his head to face the floor and opened his eyes. He shouldn't look at her at all, why did she have to be female? "Er… nakedness," he cleared his throat, "…is between the navel and the knees. Your…" he coughed for a moment, "… thighs… are nakedness."
She clenched and unclenched her hands: this was going to far for her liking, "I do not display my thighs!"
He raised his head, stared into her eyes and shouted with theatrical gesticulations, "You display your navel and your hips with the pants you wear! Your bosom is most prominently displayed!"
An ugly red flush began to form and her body trembled in rage, "It is not! And your clothing covers all of you're… nakedness and you! Would it please you if I was beneath your clothes!"
Jafar's eyes widened, what did she possibly mean by that?
"Jafar… what is going on here?"
He inhaled sharply through his teeth and slowly turned around. He looked down to find the fat little Sultan gawking up at him.
"Sultan…" he bowed deeply, and then rose, caressing his serpent staff to help rearrange his thoughts, "Oh… I am instructing Jasmine on proper clothing."
"Proper clothing?" the Sultan blinked, glancing from Jasmine to Jafar, "Whatever for?"
Jafar repressed the urge to roll his eyes, "When she meets with Prince Osmar bin Abdullah bin Othman bin Musa bin Rahman bin Ahtesham bin Huzair bin Shahnawaz bin Yasruddin bin Muntahakhan bin Nasir bin Anwar bin Zulfiqar bin Fahim bin Daud bin Bahadur bin Khurram al-Tabuk… al-hajji as well," he added as an afterthought.
"Oh, has he made the Hajj?" he asked, feigning interest.
"Yes, my liege. He did. Hence al-hajji."
"I must do that sometime soon, ha ha. Very well, Jafar, continue."
Jafar rolled his eyes with the Sultan left. Incompetent, irresponsible, impious--
Jasmine "So… why can't I wear your clothes?"
He groaned in annoyance, she couldn't have said that earlier! "Because, according to the Hadith, The prophet cursed those men who are in the similitude, that means 'assume the manners', of women and those women who are in the similitude men. You cannot dress the same way I do, princess."
She paused, reflecting in all that was said, "So, when I meet Prince Osmar… I am to … cover myself."
"All of your beauty," he nodded, remembering the Qur'an.
The princess glared at him, was he possibly trying to compliment her now? "Excuse me?"
He shut his eyes at his idiocy and inhaled through his teeth again, "…er… it can vary from region to region. But, to be safe when you meet the prince, I would advise that you cover yourself almost completely."
"Almost completely?" she inquired.
The vizier thought of the regulations of neighboring kingdoms, "A large cloak around your body, over your clothes, naturally, you may let your palms show. A scarf around your hair…"
"My hair?" she touched her braid. It would be hard to tie it up.
"Your hair is…" he gestured for it, "…beauty. Cover it."
"May I show my face?"
"Cover most of it. With another veil."
She paused, "Why?"
"Because some regions want the face covered and only the eyes to show. Some require that everything hidden for they claim that all of woman is…" the vizier faltered a little, "… beauty… temptation… and sin."
The princess cried out, "But I don't tempt anyone!"
"You think that, but you do!"
He quickly turned away and bit his lower lip.
"Whom do I tempt!"
"Weak men…" he spat angrily, damning himself, "And you should not wear perfume."
"I'll sweat like a sheep before it's shorn with all the coverings! I'll reek!"
"Whores wear perfume," he sneered.
"I wear perfume!"
He laughed darkly, "You also display yourself and wish to not follow marriage laws. And you will not look at the prince when you first see him. You must maintain chastity and modesty. You cannot sew nor cook. Nor do you know about raising a family and you do not know calligraphy. The mere thing you have that princes would want would be your beauty and you must conceal that. Modesty is the key. The more modest you are, the more they will assume that you are beautiful."
Jasmine sighed for a moment, wishing that the servants taught her something. If she didn't have servants then she probably would have learned a skill by now.
"The coverings, the modesty, yeah, that's romantic."
"It's not romantic, it's tradition, princess," Jafar sighed.
Then it came to her. One of the Laws she remembered, "Is tradition not but idol worship?"
Jafar gawked at her, "That's what you know from the Qur'an!"
She smiled deviously, she could have a chance to forgo the silly veils, "Combining religion with tradition is a form of idol worship, since the followers of traditions are following laws from sources other than Allah's scriptures and claim it to be from Allah. Idol worship is the only unforgivable sin if maintained till death. You want me to partake in all of the traditions you have just described!"
"You remember this now!"
"Yes," she grinned widely.
He snorted. She wasn't going to get out of wearing veils, and she wasn't going to continue to strut around the palace practically naked. "Women who cover themselves because of tradition or because they like it for personal reasons commit no sin, as long as they know that it is not part of Islam. Those who cover because they think Allah ordered it are committing idol worship, as Allah did not order it, the scholars ordered it."
Jasmine's smile disappeared and he continued,
"These women have found for themselves another god other than the One who revealed the Qur'an. Another that they believe complete, believe to be perfect and one who fully detailed to tell them they have to cover their heads to be Muslims. You are practicing these traditions to appease, but you should know that not all came from the complete and sacred Allah."
The princess shook in total fury, "Oh for the love of… you know it all! Why don't you just marry me?" she stormed off, screaming in the pompous airs of a fifteen-year-old girl.
Jafar turned on his heel to his private chambers, muttering, "No discipline was ever used on that child…she would get such a royal beating if she was married…"
---EL FIN!---
I got most of my information from a couple Islamic sites. Apparently beating was a last resort when others disciplines like "no sex for you" failed. Sorry if I totally misinterpreted some Ancient Muslim practices, I know modern Muslims don't necessarily follow all the crap I just inserted into the fic. (Just blame my ignorance on the sites for being too fundie and less straightforward. Or just on me not being Muslim.)
I love the prince's name. "Bin" is fun to write multiple times!
