Disclaimer: Aladdin and its characters belong to Disney.
Jasmine stood at her father's tomb as the sky bled purple. Clouds sprawled around the coastline like a noose, gathering for the coming sunrise. The little light in the sky climbed the roof of the tomb and fell at the tented apex, surrounded by a gate of intricately-crafted redwood.
All night, she had clawed at her brain for another solution to end the war with Shirabad without turning to her greatest enemy, but nothing surfaced, nothing that could guarantee the safety of Agrabah the way the lamp could. The thought of even standing in front of Jafar again humiliated her; she had never once asked him for help in her life, and she didn't want to start now, particularly since he was always an adamant believer in destroying Shirabad. Now that they had taken arms against her, he would probably laugh at her and her situation.
But it wasn't about her anymore. She remembered her father's words.
Being the Sultan doesn't always mean keeping the peace. It means protecting the people.
First, the Agrabah traders. Then her father and husband. Then hundreds of soldiers, fighting and dying to protect the people. And she—the Sultan, the most powerful person in the city—could not protect any of them.
She simply had no choice. It had to be him.
Out into the horizon, the sun broke above the surface. Time was up.
Shortly after, a small group of men found her, the Genie among them, and asked if she was ready to depart. She looked one last time at her father's tomb, wishing there was some way he could reach out and restrain her from what she was about to do.
But no answer came. Only a gentle whisper of wind.
She was alone.
Inhaling sharply, she fixed her hood over her head and turned to follow the soldiers.
Carpet was able to accommodate four people: Jasmine, the Genie, and two palace guards for protection. Even though Jasmine was used to Carpet whipping her across the air in a frenzied turbulence, she was nevertheless grateful that he decided to cruise unhurriedly for the sake of his new passengers. She was already on the verge of vomiting.
Below her, the sea of sand lay smooth and unbroken, the sun's heat closing in from all directions. The Genie remained leaning over the edge, locked in a deep concentration. She wondered how he could distinguish this mysterious Cave of Wonders in such an endless landscape, especially since the cave was hidden from view and could only be uncovered by a secret spell. How could they find something that didn't want to be found?
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the Genie held up his hand. "Stop here."
Everyone leaned over. There was a crevice in the land, split open and walled by sand and rock, but visually undistinguishable.
"This is just another sand dune!" said a guard behind her.
"No, this is it."
Jasmine nodded her approval and Carpet descended down into the crevice. The Genie jumped off early and hit the sand like a seasoned mariner, standing tall in his multicolored turban and belt. He then held up his hands and repeated a foreign chant to the wall of sand, and suddenly the ground began to shake beneath them.
Jasmine gripped Carpet as the guards struggled to keep upright. The wall slowly began to change, the cliff breaking into a round surface, a head—while the bottom half fell away underneath a set of formidable fangs. The sand grew and shrunk until she made out a snout, a nose, a mane, and eyes—eyes that burned red in the sunlight. Her blood ran cold as a growl erupted from the lungs of the cave.
"Only one may enter here, one whose worth lies far within. A diamond in the rough."
The guards drew their swords, but the Genie didn't seem at all intimidated. "Good to see you too, ol' Leo boy."
Jasmine slowly released Carpet. "The diamond in the rough?"
"Yes." The Genie turned to her. "However…this diamond in the rough was a little too ill for the road."
She stared at him, suddenly understanding.
"Aladdin?"
He nodded gravely. Jasmine opened her mouth, realizing how Aladdin got the Genie's lamp in the first place. He was the diamond in the rough. "But how can any of us enter if it only allows Aladdin?"
"Look, I know you're not exactly the diamond in the rough—you're more just the diamond, but the cave has powers and can sense when someone has good morals. Here's what we're going to do." The Genie wiped his hands as he approached her. "I'm going to say a spell that should give you a one-time pass. If the cave deems you worthy—and it should since you're doing it to save your people—it will let you enter."
"It will?" said Jasmine.
The Genie grimaced. "Fifty one percent sure."
Jasmine swallowed with difficulty. A guard immediately stepped forward. "Let me go, my Sultan. It's too dangerous—"
"No," said the Genie, "it must be her."
"Agrabah will fall if she dies!"
Jasmine held up a hand, rendering them silent. Every part of her screamed not to do this, not to enter that terrifying cave that held something even more terrifying within, but she knew it was far too late to turn back and she couldn't allow another Agrabah soldier to risk his life for her.
Jasmine looked up at the three of them. "It will fall if I don't take this chance," she said, steeling her shoulders to the Genie. "The spell, please."
Both guards bowed their heads. The Genie came closer and chanted another foreign phrase, moving his hands in the air like a magician. Once he finished, a gust of wind flew from the mouth of the cave and fizzled out with a deep groan. For a split moment, the red eyes of the cave glowed gold.
The Genie's shoulders relaxed. "I think you're good," he told her.
Her heart began to race in her ribcage, a terrified thrumming as she stared into the cave's dark, suffocating throat. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to breathe. For Agrabah, she thought. For Agrabah.
Somehow, the thought gave her the strength to move forward.
"Jasmine."
She stopped and turned back. "Only the lamp," the Genie reminded her.
Nodding, she continued on. A gentle weight fell on her shoulders and fringes tickled her cheek. It was Carpet, holding her like a cloak. The feel of his company gave Jasmine a surge of confidence to continue moving even when the cave's shadow enveloped her whole. The journey inside didn't look too difficult, she observed. Just a narrow passageway that descended—
Suddenly, a hissing noise. Jasmine looked to her left and saw the sand on the walls slipping, falling. And then the rock beneath her feet, slipping, falling—no—!
She screamed as she plummeted straight down into the heart of the cave.
Jasmine landed unceremoniously on her back in a billow of dust. She turned over on her side, coughing up the sand she'd inhaled on the way down. Carpet stood on his tassels and wrung himself clean before helping her to her feet.
Up through the murky dust, she could see a small circle of light above her—the entrance to the cave.
She couldn't believe it. She survived.
The cave had given her a pass.
A tassel wrapped around her wrist and pulled her towards a set of boulders descending like stairs down to the base of the cave: narrow, steep, and rail-less. No doubt Aladdin would have easily managed the journey due to his street life origins, but Jasmine could scarcely look at the boulders without feeling vertigo. Another tug came at her wrist, and she realized Carpet was actually insinuating that she ride him instead of making the journey herself.
"Thanks," she told him, steadying herself onto his back.
Carpet whooshed them down into a walled crevice that forced her to duck around and against the rocks. As soon as the walls cleared, Jasmine was left speechless. Before her was mounds and mounds of treasure—diamonds, emeralds, rubies. Ornate chests overflowed with gold coins, necklaces, and helmets—glinting spotlessly from every direction. As the royal princess, Jasmine had been spoiled with all sorts of riches throughout her life, but she had never seen so much of it in one place.
She became strangely aware of how much the treasure entranced her, how it made her want to reach out and touch it. If she had even two handfuls of that exquisite jewelry, she could probably bargain for Agrabah's safety with the Shirabad king—
Carpet dipped beneath her, shaking her out of her reverie. She blinked several times.
"Right," she said. "Where's the lamp?"
He pointed his tassel urgently towards the steepest rock in the cave. Jasmine let Carpet fly them to the top, but nothing was found when they reached it: just a clean rock surface.
Carpet scratched his head with his fringes, clearly not understanding. That must have been where the cave originally kept the Genie's lamp, Jasmine deduced. Frustrated, Carpet returned her to the ground and paced back and forth in his tasseled feet.
Jasmine turned, hearing a low droning coming from her left, past the treasure from the darkest corners of the cave. At first it sounded like the same deep voice from the lion head, but it didn't sound human.
"Do you hear that?" she asked Carpet.
Apparently, he didn't—or didn't care, since he continued pacing.
The droning continued. It was quiet at first, building up slowly. Then it grew louder, becoming clearer and clearer until—
It was inside her.
Music. Melodious music, slow and hypnotic.
Her body slackened, her blood growing warm in her veins—a comforting, gentle heat. Her limbs bowed and her spine caved, yielding to the strange unearthly sensation. She released the breath she held in and turned fully towards the music's direction.
She walked forward.
Behind her, she heard the whooshing noise of Carpet, but couldn't find the strength or will to look at him. All she knew was the music—that she felt like was bound to it, that she had to obey it and follow it at all cost.
Carpet jumped in her way and pointed behind her, perhaps figuring out a place for them to check for the lamp. Gently but firmly, Jasmine pushed him aside and continued on. He didn't know anything, that silly rug. She knew. She knew.
The music reached its peak when she came upon a mound of dirt—the end of the cave. The notes danced and sang in her body, her bones vibrated and trembled, almost unsure, almost desperate, as if they couldn't be still.
Without much control, she reached out a hand and cleaved away a handful of dirt. It fell behind her, a scattered mess. She reached again and pulled more. Then more. Then more. Her hands, once pedicured and lovely, were gladly savaged, the dirt filling up her fingernails. She didn't care. She kept digging and digging, feeling the sensation double, triple in her body—
She could hear Carpet's desperate attempts at getting her attention behind her, clearly worried and alarmed by her actions. But she couldn't explain it to him. She just knew. She knew.
In the middle of the digging, her hand caught something cold and metal.
The music stopped.
Stilling her breath, Jasmine dug back for it. She wrapped her fingers around the spout and pulled until a clean black lamp surfaced, dirt scurrying off the sides.
She balanced it with both hands.
The lamp. His lamp.
She found it.
Within the dark confines, a streak of red light shivered through, aroused and alive.
The Genie and the two guards were sitting in the sand when she exited the cave on Carpet. They instantly scrambled to their feet and dusted the sand from their trousers, and Jasmine accepted the guard's hand when he offered to help her down. She could still feel her heartbeat in her ears, a dull throbbing.
The Genie spread his arms. "Well?"
Numbly, Jasmine opened her cloak, revealing the lamp in her other hand. The Genie flinched, his jaw visibly rigid.
"That easy, huh?" he said.
The ground began to shake as the cave behind her collapsed. Sand melted off the lion head until there was nothing left—just the sheer rock cliff that had been there before. Jasmine turned back to her companions.
"I think that was the easy part," she told them.
The Genie explained the instructions to her: the limitations of the wishes, the obligations of the genie, and the rule that she had to be rubbing the lamp if she wanted to make a wish. He took her by the shoulders and steadied her encouragingly.
"Remember," said the Genie, "he can't hurt you. Don't be afraid."
Jasmine forced a nod, feeling her palms sweat profusely. She couldn't waste any more time. Aladdin was dying. Her people were dying. It was now or never.
Fighting all hesitations, Jasmine held up the lamp and rubbed both sides.
Immediately, the lamp grew hot in her grasp. Something hissed and smoke started spilling and spilling from the spout in great black plumes. It grew hotter, faster, until the smoke was nearly fifty feet tall. Jasmine's blood ran cold as she made out a figure forming within the smoke—tall, muscled, and monstrously red—stretching and contorting in its new surroundings.
She stumbled backwards, struggling to keep her grip on the lamp.
The figure slowly began to shrink, shrinking down to a normal human height until Jasmine could see a tall, dark outline of a man. There was a cloak forming on the man's shoulders too—a ripple of reds, golds, blacks. Something small suddenly bulleted from the smoke, nearly hitting her, and the sound of desperate, flapping wings followed.
The parrot. "Master is free," it squawked into the sky. "Master is free."
The smoke cleared, leaving behind a man in a brilliant red robe and turban, sparks of fire clutching at the ends. The man lifted his head, inhaling, relishing the newfound freedom, and opened his eyes—a burning gold—gold like the chains on his wrists.
Her entire body filled with regret.
What had she done?
Jafar swept a long look over his visitors, his face calm and indifferent. Everything about him seemed the same, Jasmine noticed—the hair, the clothes, the beard. The only difference was the power that simmered in him like a flame, making him more dangerous than ever before. Both of the guards brandished their swords and stepped in front of Jasmine as a means of protection—as if the steel could somehow ward off a being of infinite cosmic power.
Jafar smoothly crossed his arms together, his sleeves rippling with red-coal sparks. His face twisted into what Jasmine knew as his signature sneer. "If it isn't the very people who imprisoned me," he said, his voice delicately condescending.
Everyone stayed quiet, too stunned to speak. Jafar looked them over again. "Although…there seems to be one missing from your entourage."
His eyes locked with hers and Jasmine's stomach plummeted. He smiled.
"Fallen sick, has he?"
The Genie came forward, coming to her rescue. "You're here for one purpose and one purpose only—and that's to serve the Sultan."
"Sultan?" said Jafar.
They met eyes again and Jasmine could feel the contempt dripping off of him like candle wax. Jafar shook his head. "My, how the world has regressed in my absence."
Anger flitted through her. She grabbed the lamp and started rubbing it aggressively. "I wish for my husband Aladdin to be healed of his illness and restored to full health," she spoke clear and true, not wanting Jafar to waste her time with insults.
He bowed mockingly. "As you wish, princess," he said, snapping his fingers.
"Sultan," she bit out.
He smiled again. "Then perhaps, great Sultan, you'd like to use your second wish for a quick return to Agrabah given the fleet of Shirabad ships heading for your coastlines."
One of the guards bared his teeth. "He's lying."
"Am I?" said Jafar. "Strange, isn't it—how fast a city can fall when it lacks the proper leadership."
Jasmine could hardly believe his nerve. "You would've turned Agrabah into a warzone."
"And under whose rule is Agrabah a warzone now?" he challenged, sparks following his every step. "Shirabad never would have had a chance to invade as they would've been annihilated immediately. Agrabah would be safe."
"Agrabah will be safe," she insisted, rubbing the lamp again. "I wish for diplomatic peace between the city of Agrabah and the city of Shirabad."
Jafar pursued his lips. "As my princess commands," he said, snapping his fingers.
Jasmine glowered at him but held her tongue. She shouldn't have expected anything different from him: all her life he had been nothing short of patronizing. She refused to behave the way he wanted her to—always feeding into his game and arguing back. She wasn't a princess anymore—she was the Sultan. And she wouldn't let him get to her.
"I order you back into your lamp," she said, and was more than happy to see him disappear into a plume of smoke.
It was difficult for Jasmine to fathom her newly acquired peace on the journey back to Agrabah. All those nights she'd cried herself to sleep, all those nights feeling helpless and insignificant in the face of war—all of those worries were over in a single trip. She saved everyone. She was free.
Jasmine closed her eyes, letting the wind caress her face. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to relax, to feel at peace. Worrying over everyone had certainly taken its mental and physical toll, and she was relieved to know Aladdin and her people were going to be alive and well when she returned.
She steadied one hand on Carpet and the other on Jafar's lamp underneath her cloak. As aggravating as it was confronting him again, she admitted that the benefits far outweighed the risks. Her only regret was that she didn't seek Jafar out sooner for the sake of her father—oh, how ignorant she was that morning at the breakfast table. If she'd only taken the threat seriously after the trade post incident, she might have saved her father too.
But no matter. Jasmine still had one more wish and there were plenty of other political concerns to attend to. She would consult with Hakim on a proper strategy to snuffing out all future threats towards Agrabah, wish for it, and then discard of Jafar's lamp the moment she was finished.
The sun was setting as Agrabah came into view, the sky awash in orange light. It looked beautiful from her vantage point: the multicolored-brick buildings, the strong palace towers, the harbor filled with ships—
Wait. Ships at that hour?
Jasmine leaned forward, frowning. Those weren't just ships—it was an entire fleet, filling the ocean in rows, their sails billowing red and white—
Red and white. Shirabad colors.
Jasmine paled.
"Whose ships are those?" she demanded.
The guards leaned around her. "It can't be…" one was saying.
The Genie shrugged. "Maybe they're here for a diplomatic dinner?"
"An entire fleet?" balked the guard.
"You never know—"
"Carpet," said Jasmine. "Get us to the palace—fast."
Jafar. He didn't grant her wish, the bastard. He didn't grant her wish!
The rug soared as fast as he could without throwing his passengers off. He parked next to the closest balcony and Jasmine unabashedly leapt off, nearly landing on all fours. Palace guards were running down the hallways in formation—a clear indicator of an impending attack.
"Find Hakim and bring him to me," she ordered the two guards. As they ran off, she threw a look back at the Genie. "Find Dalia and get as far away from here as you can. Carpet will take you."
Carpet clutched onto the Genie's back like he did when he followed her into the cave. The Genie looked utterly forlorn. "Jasmine… the wishes. I don't understand. Jafar is bound to obey the wishes—"
"I know," she said. "I'll take care of it. But in case I don't—you two need to be far away from the crossfire."
He nodded reluctantly and hurried down the hallway through groups of running guards. Jasmine wasted no time meeting up with Hakim, who looked notably distressed since their last encounter. "My Sultan—Shirabad will attack tonight. They've been blockading our imports from the Abbas."
Jasmine shook her head, her mind scrambling.
"We have civilians at the gates," Hakim went on, "mothers and children requesting protection inside the palace—"
"Let them inside."
"But the royal family—"
"Let them inside," Jasmine repeated. "My life isn't worth more than my people. Let them in and protect them."
"Yes, my Sultan." Hakim turned and left.
Jasmine found herself running down the steps of the infirmary, her cloak billowing after her. If Jafar didn't grant the Shirabad wish, he must not have granted the one for Aladdin.
Sure enough, she found him on his same cot—still asleep with his arms at his sides and no sign of recovery. Angry tears brimmed her eyes as her knees hit the floor, so frustrated that she could scream. Growling, Jasmine tore open her cloak for the lamp and was anything but gentle when rousing the genie within.
Black plumes of smoke filled the room. Jafar reappeared in his normal height, sparks of fire running down his red robe. He smirked as the smoke cleared, seemingly unsurprised to see her again so soon.
She glared at him. "Grant my two wishes. Now."
"And so I did, princess," he said.
"Then why is my kingdom under attack?"
Jafar cast a look in Aladdin's direction on the cot. "You wished for diplomatic peace between the two regions and your husband's recovery." He turned back to her. "How long, I'm afraid, wasn't specified and I was forced to use my own assumptions."
Jasmine felt an overwhelming urge to strangle him. "You want Agrabah to fall."
"No. Spilt blood is wasteful. Agrabah will be safe again." He slowly advanced on her, making it difficult for her to stand still and hold her ground. "It will be safe…once you wish me free and I return to my rightful place as Sultan."
Jasmine openly scoffed at his delusion. "That will never happen."
His lips twisted up. "Still so defiant. Tell me, princess—how much blood do you expect your people to spill for your shortcomings? They deserve someone of power to protect them."
"I have power."
"Do you? Then why did you come to me?"
Jasmine felt it burn in her then, the humiliation—the humiliation she feared she'd feel. She couldn't stand to look at him now, to look into his eyes that gleamed with such derision. Biting the inside of her cheek, she battled down all her violent emotions and muttered: "Keep your wishes, then. I'll save Agrabah without your help."
Smoke began to summon Jafar back into the lamp. As it swirled around his torso, he smiled and held up his arms, revealing his golden chains.
"Until you make your final wish," he told her, "I belong to you."
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