Disclaimer! I do not own anything Aladdin related; the only original
characters are the ones earlier in the story
Destane laughed.
"Ready to try it again little kitten?".............................
Destane furrowed his brow as he worked, frustrated as the insolent beaker in
front of him insisted on disobeying and refusing to work right. He rubbed
the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes.
They were in the laboratory, that much was evident, the kitten and he.
Mozenrath was currently doing what Destane had told him to do, to go and
reorganize the shelves of chemicals and countless beaker upon beaker of
green, purple and crimson liquid upon the back wall shelves. He watched his
apprentice for a moment, forgetting the burning and fizzling waste of an
experiment.
Ever since the closet incidents, little Mozey had been a good bit quieter,
almost timid in his steps around Destane, afraid to be put back.
The bruises on his paling face had started to subside recently.
He knew he put his little kitten on edge with his change in behavior, from
aggressive and forceful, to distant and even going as far as to forget he
was there, or at least that's what it seemed to the son of a catling.
Destane, were he in a better mood, may have laughed,
Who said he had to be consistent?
Mozenrath had to know he was being watched, as he shuddered and his back
stiffened, being a little more careful with his assignment.
Destane turned back to the problem at hand, silently cleaning up the now
noxious mess with a swipe of his hand
And that's when he hears it.
Swish
Swish
He looked back up and found the culprit of the noise.
Mozenrath's tail had come back and was currently swishing agitatedly across
the floor, his ears twitching restlessly atop his head.
Swish
Swish
Destane watched the black appendage mock his headache with its annoying
sound across the marble.
Swish
Swish
Mozenrath got a nasty shock as his tail was rudely grabbed in an unforgiving
grip.
He spun, seeing the culprit.
He winced as Destane glared accusingly at the black furry tail in his hand.
" Let go"
Destane raised an eyebrow back at him for his daring to speak to him in that
manner.
" Excuse me little kitten?"
The tail spasmodically worked in Destane's rough palm.
" Please, let go sir"
Destane could tell it was still painful for the proud prince to show him
respect.
" A nuisance, " he stated, looking back at the captured tail, " A hassle."
Mozenrath laughed, somewhat nervous in his scoffing.
" Its my tail. "
He wasn't laughing when it was jerked on.
In fact,
He winced.
Destane hummed, twining the furry thing in his fingers.
" I think it's a handicap, don't you, such a useless ornamental thing. No
purpose really….", he mused, a mad glint in his eye that smoldered quietly.
Mozenrath looked up incredulously.
" Sir, with all due respect, its my tail. It's attached to me for Ra's
sake.", he said with dismissing wave of his hand.
" Oh little kitten, I really think you underestimate the power of magic"
Mozenrath met Destane's eyes, wavering uncertainly, fighting the urge to
flee.
But then again, Destane always gave him that feeling….
Many sounds become drowned within the bellows of the Citadel.
Whispers.
Interpretable murmurs.
But that day-
Screams echoed throughout the Citadel.
Each corridor.
Each turn into a shadowed crevice.
And each dusty swoop of distorted sunlight that dared to filter into the
place.
Shook with the sound.
But eventually,
The desperate sound died.
And to hear what it had become,
You'd have to kneel down next to the young man slumped against the wall of
the laboratory to hear the hoarse gasping and choked sobs.
Destane looked down at his work.
A matted, sizzling mound of dried blood had replaced the spot of each feline
ear.
The tatters of the sorcerer's apprentice's empty, makeshift hole in his
pants where his tail usually escaped also proved the absence of the tail.
Destane crouched down next to his student, who twitched as the spell wore
off and his chin was lifted.
" Well, I guess you don't look like a little kitten now do you?"
Wide, betrayed, and still silent eyes were his only response.
"But you'll always be that to me, little kitten", he sneered, giving
Mozenrath's cheek a pat as he got up.
A rasped question followed him however.
" Why?"
Destane didn't even turn.
His response was just as flippant,
" Well why ever not?".
Even before Destane had left,
Mozenrath's hands had gone up to inspect the damage.
He looked at the darkening scarlet liquid he brought back in disbelief.
His shoulder convulsed, the aftereffects of Destane's spell still racking
his body, as he rose with difficulty, the soreness in his tailbone demanding
attention.
He stumbled down the hall until he came to a bronze shield mounted among
other battle paraphernalia on the wall, and looked at himself hesitantly in
the polished reflection.
His wild-eyed doppelganger reaffirmed what he already knew.
That bastard did it.
That sick twisted bastard did it.
His hand slid down the silver surface as dark spots appeared on the ground
below.
He admitted, he sometimes thought of his reoccurring feline traits as a
hassle,
But, dammit!, they were a part of him, a part Destane had no sane nor
logical reason to divest them from him.
And it just assured him the man was mad.
" Why did mother send me here?".
More dark spots were created, adding to the dried one's that had soaked his
collar when he was put through the inflictions of pain from the spell.
" I have to get away from here."
He rubbed at his face furiously with his sleeve and took off in what he
hoped was a stealthy manner trough the Citadel to the doors.
No Destane in sight.
He stopped as his hands clasped the bronze door handles, large and cold,
secured to the giant wood doors.
Doubts, guilt surfaced at the predictably inconvenient time.
He was sent here to be taught.
And,
As unorthodox Destane's "teachings" were.
He could now do things he couldn't do before,
He could,
If somewhat roughly,
Get his magic through his hands, if not only at certain times as well.
He could collect it within himself.
But this couldn't be right.
A teacher, a mentor, even a master does maim his students.
It wasn't right.
Even Mirage would able to see that.
He threw all his weight into the doors,
Which refused to budge.
He heard footsteps.
He panicked.
He pushed and hurled himself at the doors.
He stopped, remembering when he first arrived. The guards had opened the
doors.
He ran a bit through a side hallway, narrow and most likely full of storage
in the dusted door rooms, until he came face to face with one of the
burliest men he had ever seen.
Not really being fully acquainted with the Citadel staff, he had to use a
quick search of his eyes to tell him the man was one of Destane's guards, or
a solider at least, by the uniform.
He made a mental note to better reacquaint himself with the maids and help
he sometimes-caught glimpses of.
" Your one of the guards right?", he asked, unsure if the man even spoke
English as he was unnaturally patient with Mozenrath's silence.
The man gave him a dead, trained sweep of his own eyes before asking in an
impossibly dry monotone.
" Yes sir"
The show of, if not mediocre respect was unfamiliar to Mozenrath after being
away from his kingdom.
But he caught himself.
" Would you be able to get open the front doors"
There's no shame in asking for help, he is, after all, the version of
Mozenrath if he ate himself.
The man gives Mozenrath a surprisingly alive calculating look.
Then it hits him
He didn't really expect it to be this easy, did he?
" I was sent by Destane to-" Mozenrath starts, brain working like cogs to
come up with a satisfactory excuse.
But the man stops him by raising his hand as soon as he hears Destane's
name.
He motions Mozenrath to follow, leaving Mozenrath to jog after him to keep
up with the man's lumbering strides.
The man stopped and once more looked Mozenrath over, hand on the door.
" You the kid master is teaching?" he asks gruffly, though cautiously.
Mozenrath, too nervous to be bristled at being called a kid, answered
quickly, and foolishly so, he later surmised, "Yes."
"Fine then"
And with one fell swoop of the man's push, the door opened, casting
Mozenrath in now uncomfortable dusk brightness.
Mozenrath brushed off the insecurity of being unfit.
Hell,
Destane himself must be using steroids, why not his staff?
He ran, shredding off a troublesome cloak in the process, which had flapped
behind him like some ridiculous flag, waving even more attention to him from
the dawdlers who lingered on the streets this late.
Suddenly, he could have sworn he was being watched.
Or maybe it was just the volatile mixture of paranoia and guilt.
In any case, his running sped up to what could only be described as flying.
His heart jolted with each beat in his chest.
He didn't care he was attracting stares from rapidly growing crowds.
But that just meant Destane would have an easier time finding him.
He threw himself in an alleyway, his chest ready to burst from his shirt as
he snuck a look at the looming Citadel behind him, almost angry in its
grimace.
Mozenrath turned back and let his head rest on the cold stone as he caught
his breath.
Did Destane even realize he had gone?
So absorbed was he in his doubts and speculations,
He barely felt a hand touch his shoulder.
Dean
characters are the ones earlier in the story
Destane laughed.
"Ready to try it again little kitten?".............................
Destane furrowed his brow as he worked, frustrated as the insolent beaker in
front of him insisted on disobeying and refusing to work right. He rubbed
the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes.
They were in the laboratory, that much was evident, the kitten and he.
Mozenrath was currently doing what Destane had told him to do, to go and
reorganize the shelves of chemicals and countless beaker upon beaker of
green, purple and crimson liquid upon the back wall shelves. He watched his
apprentice for a moment, forgetting the burning and fizzling waste of an
experiment.
Ever since the closet incidents, little Mozey had been a good bit quieter,
almost timid in his steps around Destane, afraid to be put back.
The bruises on his paling face had started to subside recently.
He knew he put his little kitten on edge with his change in behavior, from
aggressive and forceful, to distant and even going as far as to forget he
was there, or at least that's what it seemed to the son of a catling.
Destane, were he in a better mood, may have laughed,
Who said he had to be consistent?
Mozenrath had to know he was being watched, as he shuddered and his back
stiffened, being a little more careful with his assignment.
Destane turned back to the problem at hand, silently cleaning up the now
noxious mess with a swipe of his hand
And that's when he hears it.
Swish
Swish
He looked back up and found the culprit of the noise.
Mozenrath's tail had come back and was currently swishing agitatedly across
the floor, his ears twitching restlessly atop his head.
Swish
Swish
Destane watched the black appendage mock his headache with its annoying
sound across the marble.
Swish
Swish
Mozenrath got a nasty shock as his tail was rudely grabbed in an unforgiving
grip.
He spun, seeing the culprit.
He winced as Destane glared accusingly at the black furry tail in his hand.
" Let go"
Destane raised an eyebrow back at him for his daring to speak to him in that
manner.
" Excuse me little kitten?"
The tail spasmodically worked in Destane's rough palm.
" Please, let go sir"
Destane could tell it was still painful for the proud prince to show him
respect.
" A nuisance, " he stated, looking back at the captured tail, " A hassle."
Mozenrath laughed, somewhat nervous in his scoffing.
" Its my tail. "
He wasn't laughing when it was jerked on.
In fact,
He winced.
Destane hummed, twining the furry thing in his fingers.
" I think it's a handicap, don't you, such a useless ornamental thing. No
purpose really….", he mused, a mad glint in his eye that smoldered quietly.
Mozenrath looked up incredulously.
" Sir, with all due respect, its my tail. It's attached to me for Ra's
sake.", he said with dismissing wave of his hand.
" Oh little kitten, I really think you underestimate the power of magic"
Mozenrath met Destane's eyes, wavering uncertainly, fighting the urge to
flee.
But then again, Destane always gave him that feeling….
Many sounds become drowned within the bellows of the Citadel.
Whispers.
Interpretable murmurs.
But that day-
Screams echoed throughout the Citadel.
Each corridor.
Each turn into a shadowed crevice.
And each dusty swoop of distorted sunlight that dared to filter into the
place.
Shook with the sound.
But eventually,
The desperate sound died.
And to hear what it had become,
You'd have to kneel down next to the young man slumped against the wall of
the laboratory to hear the hoarse gasping and choked sobs.
Destane looked down at his work.
A matted, sizzling mound of dried blood had replaced the spot of each feline
ear.
The tatters of the sorcerer's apprentice's empty, makeshift hole in his
pants where his tail usually escaped also proved the absence of the tail.
Destane crouched down next to his student, who twitched as the spell wore
off and his chin was lifted.
" Well, I guess you don't look like a little kitten now do you?"
Wide, betrayed, and still silent eyes were his only response.
"But you'll always be that to me, little kitten", he sneered, giving
Mozenrath's cheek a pat as he got up.
A rasped question followed him however.
" Why?"
Destane didn't even turn.
His response was just as flippant,
" Well why ever not?".
Even before Destane had left,
Mozenrath's hands had gone up to inspect the damage.
He looked at the darkening scarlet liquid he brought back in disbelief.
His shoulder convulsed, the aftereffects of Destane's spell still racking
his body, as he rose with difficulty, the soreness in his tailbone demanding
attention.
He stumbled down the hall until he came to a bronze shield mounted among
other battle paraphernalia on the wall, and looked at himself hesitantly in
the polished reflection.
His wild-eyed doppelganger reaffirmed what he already knew.
That bastard did it.
That sick twisted bastard did it.
His hand slid down the silver surface as dark spots appeared on the ground
below.
He admitted, he sometimes thought of his reoccurring feline traits as a
hassle,
But, dammit!, they were a part of him, a part Destane had no sane nor
logical reason to divest them from him.
And it just assured him the man was mad.
" Why did mother send me here?".
More dark spots were created, adding to the dried one's that had soaked his
collar when he was put through the inflictions of pain from the spell.
" I have to get away from here."
He rubbed at his face furiously with his sleeve and took off in what he
hoped was a stealthy manner trough the Citadel to the doors.
No Destane in sight.
He stopped as his hands clasped the bronze door handles, large and cold,
secured to the giant wood doors.
Doubts, guilt surfaced at the predictably inconvenient time.
He was sent here to be taught.
And,
As unorthodox Destane's "teachings" were.
He could now do things he couldn't do before,
He could,
If somewhat roughly,
Get his magic through his hands, if not only at certain times as well.
He could collect it within himself.
But this couldn't be right.
A teacher, a mentor, even a master does maim his students.
It wasn't right.
Even Mirage would able to see that.
He threw all his weight into the doors,
Which refused to budge.
He heard footsteps.
He panicked.
He pushed and hurled himself at the doors.
He stopped, remembering when he first arrived. The guards had opened the
doors.
He ran a bit through a side hallway, narrow and most likely full of storage
in the dusted door rooms, until he came face to face with one of the
burliest men he had ever seen.
Not really being fully acquainted with the Citadel staff, he had to use a
quick search of his eyes to tell him the man was one of Destane's guards, or
a solider at least, by the uniform.
He made a mental note to better reacquaint himself with the maids and help
he sometimes-caught glimpses of.
" Your one of the guards right?", he asked, unsure if the man even spoke
English as he was unnaturally patient with Mozenrath's silence.
The man gave him a dead, trained sweep of his own eyes before asking in an
impossibly dry monotone.
" Yes sir"
The show of, if not mediocre respect was unfamiliar to Mozenrath after being
away from his kingdom.
But he caught himself.
" Would you be able to get open the front doors"
There's no shame in asking for help, he is, after all, the version of
Mozenrath if he ate himself.
The man gives Mozenrath a surprisingly alive calculating look.
Then it hits him
He didn't really expect it to be this easy, did he?
" I was sent by Destane to-" Mozenrath starts, brain working like cogs to
come up with a satisfactory excuse.
But the man stops him by raising his hand as soon as he hears Destane's
name.
He motions Mozenrath to follow, leaving Mozenrath to jog after him to keep
up with the man's lumbering strides.
The man stopped and once more looked Mozenrath over, hand on the door.
" You the kid master is teaching?" he asks gruffly, though cautiously.
Mozenrath, too nervous to be bristled at being called a kid, answered
quickly, and foolishly so, he later surmised, "Yes."
"Fine then"
And with one fell swoop of the man's push, the door opened, casting
Mozenrath in now uncomfortable dusk brightness.
Mozenrath brushed off the insecurity of being unfit.
Hell,
Destane himself must be using steroids, why not his staff?
He ran, shredding off a troublesome cloak in the process, which had flapped
behind him like some ridiculous flag, waving even more attention to him from
the dawdlers who lingered on the streets this late.
Suddenly, he could have sworn he was being watched.
Or maybe it was just the volatile mixture of paranoia and guilt.
In any case, his running sped up to what could only be described as flying.
His heart jolted with each beat in his chest.
He didn't care he was attracting stares from rapidly growing crowds.
But that just meant Destane would have an easier time finding him.
He threw himself in an alleyway, his chest ready to burst from his shirt as
he snuck a look at the looming Citadel behind him, almost angry in its
grimace.
Mozenrath turned back and let his head rest on the cold stone as he caught
his breath.
Did Destane even realize he had gone?
So absorbed was he in his doubts and speculations,
He barely felt a hand touch his shoulder.
Dean