Dear Reader,

I have several questions to answer about this story before I can begin the next chapter. Firstly, yes, this is an Aladdin fanfic. However, the Aladdin story is more an Arabic legend than a Disney owned story. It is true that I have based some of my ideas on the Disney movie, and I do give them credit for that. But this fic is also a bit more original than some fics, for quite a bit of the plot is my own. Secondly, I keep calling "Jasmine" by the name of "Yasmine" because Jasmine is not a real Arabic name. Yasmine is the translation for the jasmine flower, so I chose to use it for my main character's name, as it is a bit more "real" or accurate. Unfortunately, I do not know if Aladdin or Jafar are actual Arabic names, but I will be using them anyway. Thirdly, if any reader know anything about Saudi culture that I have missed in this fic, please, please!, bring it to my attention. I would like this story to be as accurate as possible. Thanks so much and please continue to review because it makes this all worthwhile!

-LunarLitLover

Recap: Yasmine left the palace disguised as a commoner with the help of her handmaiden, Nazihah.

Chapter 3-Ali al Din

Food and Fury

I crouched low on the ledge of the terra building before leaping off. With a quiet landing, I continued on my way down the busy street.

It was a normal morning in Riyadh. The sun rose hot and bright over the large, red-brown city. The streets between the mud buildings bustled with commoners going about their business. Street vendors opened up their carts to sell their goods. Children played in the streets while their mothers chased them fruitlessly. Pickpockets also were about, taking coins out of the wealthier inhabitants' purses. This was the Riyadh I had known since a young child. I remembered that sun, and those vendors, and being one of the children who was chased by his mother. And now I was one of those thieves; maybe not a pickpocket, but still engaged in a dishonorable occupation, nonetheless. But despite my status, my mother, and…well…despite everything, this is my home, I thought. And I do enjoy living here.

As I entered the main market, my sentimental thoughts slowed and I concentrated more on my scheme for getting breakfast. I decided to again climb up the terra wall, then descend yet another time to an awning over one of the food stalls. I sat unnoticed on top of the material patiently for quite some time before making my move. A very hurried lady approached the front of my food stall and the vendor turned his covered head to bargain with her. At his moment of distraction, I reached down from the top of the stall and grabbed for a loaf of bread. Neither vendor nor customer caught this feat, and I proceeded back onto the roof and along it, parallel to the street. I went about a block before climbing down onto another cloth awning to eat my prize.

I lay there for a bit, more enjoying the atmosphere than the food. I ate to live, but I lived for the enjoyment of it. And one of my favorite pastimes was to watch Riyadh come to life over breakfast. So, as I basked in the sun perched on top of the brightly colored cloth, I examined the people moving about. They came in all shapes and sizes, and they came for all different reasons. I watched the hoards of young women buying fabric and jewelry for their dowries of their future weddings. I saw dark men cowering in the shadows to exchange large sums of money for harder-to-acquire substances. I heard the vendors shout out their calls of discounted prices in order to draw the crowds to their carts.

I closed my eyes to lounge back on the awning, but as I did so, the order to "get out of the way" reached my ears. Turning, I saw royal guards pushing people to the side in order to make their way through the congested street. The lead guard continued around the corner in a determined fashion, but the two guards at the rear lingered. They were taking their time, making a point of tossing around as many pedestrians as possible, as if they were bales of barley. It seemed they enjoyed abusing their power.

On the awning, I lay still. I resented the guards' treatment of the common people, but had no desire to mingle with them. Even though I had not been caught at my morning theft, I thought it best to avoid confrontation of the law enforcement and to lie low. Or lie high, in my position.

The two remaining guards continued to shove their way through the crowd. I saw them push an older woman almost to the ground. After that most of the people hurriedly shuffled out of their way. Yet as they came close to the stall I occupied, one young woman in a drab brown cloak did not move from their path. This surprised me and, apparently, the guards as well. The woman had beautiful dark eyes. But she used these eyes to look up at the two men standing in front of her. Why she didn't look down, like is required of all females, I don't know. But she didn't. And I think that she realized a moment later what a mistake this was.

One of the two guards took this gesture as an affectionate one, and pressed the defiant woman against the closest building's wall. "A bold whore, you are. I wonder though, how much do you ask from a humble guard? And in the middle of the day? It better be cheap for your sake, because I think that you should be the one paying me."

The woman did not like these words. She tried to push her pursuer away. A woman had actually touched a man in an aggressive manner. I was shocked by this behavior, as was the rest of the crowd, yet they continued on with their business in an effort to avoid the guards. But I watched the woman intently, seeing what her next move would be. She appeared to have one. When the man did not let go of her, she kneed him in the groin. He doubled over in pain as she began to run. Unfortunately for her, he'd recovered somewhat before she had escaped from his reach. Held by the arm, the strange woman struggled to continue running. She failed in this attempt and the guard, consumed by humiliation and rage, hit her hard in the face. Blood exploded from the woman's face as her nose broke. But the man did not stop there. He hit her again and again all over her body until she collapsed, exhausted, on the ground. Her torment might have ended there, except the embarrassed man saw that she was still conscious. He dragged the woman to her feet again. She hung rather limply in his grasp, covered in the red paint of her own blood. "That's what you get, whore, for being the disgrace to Allah that you are," the angry man said to his prey.

In the woman's last ounce of strength, I heard her mutter, "If I'm a disgrace, what does that make you?"

The guard let out a yell of rage and threw the worn woman against the wall. She hit the wall hard, with her back against it. The crack of many of her bones overcame the market's noise. And as the abusive men turned the street's corner, I saw the blood-stained woman's broken body sink to the ground in a motionless heap.

I quickly jumped down from my awning and made my way over to the red-brown pile that her body had formed near the wall. Reaching it, I stooped to unfold her body from its unnatural position. When I did this, I was relieved to find that her spine wasn't broken. I also felt a pulse, although a weak one, near her neck. Thank Allah.

Many stares were directed my way when I reached down to sling the injured woman over my shoulders. But I didn't care. She desperately needed medical attention.

I pressed hastily through Riyadh's market with a bloody woman on my back. For once in my life, I was not enjoying my stroll through the market.

Preview: I'm not sure yet, but I think that the next chapter will examine out corrupt grand vizier (possibly named Ja'far)