A/N: Merciful-fucking-universe. This chapter. wipes sweat from her brow Let's just say this one escalated quickly. One of you asked, Why do I feel angst coming? Easy. I'm a monster who delights in torturing characters for fun, profit, and reviews. So... yeah... enjoy the roller coaster of feels on this one kids.

Also, a bit of housekeeping before you get to reading: Please let me express my thanks to all of you who have read, reviewed, followed, and favorited. This is my 8th work on , and I have never had this kind of response to my work at this pace for any of the previous seven stories. Nearly 500 views and 11 reviews after only 2 chapters. I'm beside myself, and have no words. I'm elated at the response, and that you are all enjoying this work. Truth be told, while I have become rather obsessed with the new Aladdin film (the original holds a special place in my heart as the first movie I ever saw in a theater as a child), I didn't intend on writing a fanfic for it. It just kind of happened, and now it just won't stop... but if this is the response, then I'm happy about that. Now, for the real reason you're all here...

Considering the amount of damage he had inflicted upon the infrastructure of the city while evading the guards, Aladdin figured the least he could do with his new found authority was build something for the people in return. So, Aladdin built a madrasa. Not just any school, mind you, but a school for children like him — a madrasa for street rats. Zero money plus zero education plus zero opportunities equaled a life of poverty. It didn't take a scholar to work out that equation. No one given another choice would willingly choose to be a criminal. It was the tragic result of making the best bad choice from the limited choices at their disposal. A means to an end. Once labeled a street rat, no one was willing to offer them any form of gainful, self-respecting employment. The inhabitants of this quarter of the city, his quarter, were doomed merely by urban geography, deemed to be criminals and fiends, so that's what they became. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy.

One that, for the grace of the moral code instilled in him by his late mother and the acquisition of a magic lamp, Aladdin had managed to escape. What did not escape his notice though was that it had been nothing more than exceptional luck that he had profited when others had not. It felt wrong not to give something back, to share a semblance of his own good fortune — the princely equivalent of giving away his bag of dates to a hungry child. He wasn't a statesman, but he could swing a hammer, lay bricks, brush paint. Over the last few months, burdened by his anxiety about his immense lack of any other valuable skills towards the governance of Agrabah, he had thrown himself into this as a personal mission. He had even determined the site upon which the madrasa would be built.

The tower was barely recognizable as the decrepit loft where Aladdin and Abu had made their home. Now it was like a shining beacon of hope in a dismal abyss of despair. The walls had been repaired, and a set of proper stairs had been erected to reach the upper levels. The former homes below had been abandoned ages ago, uninhabitable from years of neglect, a by-product of the lack of funds necessary to make the structures safe. Now these former homes served as classrooms, a library, and a dining room where the students would receive breakfast and lunch while at school. Aladdin had insisted on that point. After all, these may very well be the only meals these children might receive at all. How could a child concentrate enough to focus on learning when they were starving?

Hands gliding along the freshly painted walls, Jasmine marveled at the transformation. The first time he had brought her inside, this place had been little more than a hovel. Charming in its own way to be sure, but still a hovel. Now it was a madrasa to rival even those found in the wealthier quarters of the city.

The original plans had called for the headmaster's office to be placed on the upper level, in Aladdin's former loft. But, when Aladdin had delivered the plans to Jasmine for her final approval prior to construction, she had demanded a redesign. Nearly offended by the idea, she had told him, "No place with a view of sky like the one from your balcony should ever be walled up." Instead, at her suggestion, they had turned the loft space into a classroom for studying the sciences, replete with a telescope to take advantage of that remarkable view. On that, Jasmine had insisted. Up until that point, Aladdin honestly thought it was impossible to love his wife anymore that he already did. He was quite happy to discover he was mistaken. Sitting on the steps leading to the raised level where they had set the telescope, he watched her move around the former loft with wide eyes, mouth slack with amazement.

"I knew it would be incredible,'' she breathed, her eyes unable to settle of a single spot, and Aladdin couldn't help but smile at her reaction, "but, this is truly astonishing. I am so proud of you."

"Compared to the things you've done for your people, Jasmine, it's nothing."

Crossing the expanse of ornate tiles that now decorated the same floor that had once barely been covered by threadbare rugs, she came to sit next to him on the step just below where he was perched.

"Out of all the trade agreements and alliances and laws that I could make, this school is going to have a bigger impact on Agrabah than any of that." Taking his hands in hers, she gave him a firm squeeze. He noticed her eyes were ringed with a hint of tears, but he knew that this time, it had been out of pride. "And, you Aladdin, you made this happen. I merely signed the paperwork."

Drawing her hands to his lips, he pressed a gentle kiss on the knuckles of both her small hands.

"I hope you're right." He shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly.

"I hope you're right," she repeated in a deep, dopey mocking caricature of his own voice. "I know I am right."

"There's that famous humility again..." He grinned, but the smile was merely for Jasmine's sake.

Jasmine didn't really laugh like he had intended. Biting her lip, an expression flashed across her face that he had learned to associate with the swift inner workings of her mind, racing to fast to focus on a single thought before jumping to the next.

Dipping his head to swipe his nose gently against hers, he asked, "What is it?"

"Aladdin, do you have any idea how— "

"Your Majesty?"

Snapping their heads up towards the newcomer, the newly appointed headmaster was hovering in the doorway.

"Yes?" He noticed the clipped tone in her response.

"We're ready to commence with the dedication ceremony."

"Excellent. We'll be right behind you."

The headmaster bowed and disappeared down the new staircase. Standing, Aladdin offered his hand to assist her to her feet. When she did not immediately stand, looking if she were considering saying something, he tilted his head in question. After a beat of silence, she took his hand, standing and looping her arm through the crook of his elbow. Together they made their way outside to a cheering mass of people gathered for the opening.

The area around the new madrasa had been recommissioned into a courtyard to provide an open space for students to sit outside or play. A small decorative fountain bubbled in the center. Colorful plants and flowers brightened the edges and corners in raised beds, and a few trees provided pockets of shade from the intensity of the desert sun. The crowd of inhabitants from the poorest quarter of the city — excited children and their hopefully expectant parents — clustered throughout the space. To his surprise, there were not as many people as he would have expected for such an auspicious occasion, especially considering the offering of food and treats to the attendants. Knowing these people as he did, Aladdin would have assumed it would have drawn a small army of attendants, even those without children, at the promise of a meal.

Addressing the crowd, Jasmine stood on the top most step of the entryway, framed in the doorway like she was performing on a stage. He, on the other hand, kept his distance behind by few steps. Jasmine took every possible opportunity to credit this achievement to him. Aladdin wore a permanent blush through the entire dedication speech. She could credit him all she wanted, but this was her moment too. None of this would have been possible without the resources she had been able to allocate to the construction. Besides, moments like these were when Jasmine shined. He would gladly keep building madrasas, or bimaristans, or whatever she wanted if it meant he could watch her in her prime upon opening them. She cherished being able to provide for her people, to make strides in bettering their lives, and if he could play some small part in giving her that pleasure, he would do so until his last breath. Nothing less than a commanding presence, articulate and impassioned, he adored watching her — it was like witnessing living art.

The dedication ended with a round of applause from the grateful subjects, and at her signal, two guards opened the doors. A stampede of excited children raced through the doors, leading the way for their parents, who each bowed to their Sultana, praising her with tears in their eyes and extolling blessings upon the royal couple as they passed.

Once the flood of people had mostly dissipated, she released a deep breath, and asked over her shoulder, "How was that?"

"Perfect," he assured. "You're always at your best when you're talking to your people."

Lingering behind the rest of the crowd, the headmaster approached the couple, dropping into a quick bow.

"Your Majesty," he began as he rose back up to full height. "There aren't enough words to express our thanks."

Patting at Aladdin's chest affectionately, she redirected the praise back onto him. "As I said in my address, the Prince is the one you should be thanking. He was the mastermind behind this endeavor."

Eager to change the subject away from him, he asked, "I don't mean to sound conceited here, but I expected a bigger crowd."

The headmaster's face down-turned. "Rumors are spreading that plague has been spotted in the city. I'm sure many of the parents were concerned about exposing their children — "

Aladdin didn't hear anything else after the word plague. All the rest of the words were drowned out by the blood boiling in his ears.

"You didn't think to inform the palace about this!?" He barked at the headmaster who flinched at the sudden outburst. "You don't think the threat of plague was a reasonable enough justification for delaying the opening?"

"Aladdin," Jasmine laughed nervously at his side, trying to downplay his reaction. "Really, it's fine. We don't even know if the rumors are true." Casting a smile back at the visibly shaken headmaster, adding, "If it were true, why would anyone risk coming at all?"

"Because their immune," Aladdin answered through gritted teeth. Squaring up to the headmaster, the flush on his face no longer from the embarrassment of unwanted attention, but rather the liquid fire coursing through his veins. "You would willingly expose your Sultana to a possible plague outbreak!? After everything she has done for you!?"

"Aladdin, please, don't be ridiculous," Jasmine whispered fervently.

Raising his hands in either surrender or a meager defense against Aladdin's ire, the headmaster shook his head to dismiss the accusations.

"Your Highness! My Prince, I assure you I had no intention… I would never willingly endanger our Sultana…"

Everything was happening very fast, and clearly from the look on her face, Jasmine didn't know how to respond. He could feel her trying desperately to get his attention by pulling on the fabric of his tunic. His only response was to gently guide her behind him like he had done the day he had protected her from Jamal.

"Or, miss an opportunity to flaunt your new status and gloat in her praise, right?"

"Believe me, that was never — "

"Aladdin, people are staring."

Grabbing the headmaster by the neck of his robe, Aladdin jeered, "I should drag you into the dungeon myself!"

"Prince Consort, your Sultana is addressing you!"

Jasmine's command echoed off the enclosed courtyard walls. The use of his full title knocked something loose in his rage addled brain. Never once since he had been crowned had she ever personally addressed him by his official royal title, let alone do so in a way meant to assert her lawful authority over him. She referred to him as prince all the time, but never attaching the word consort — a harsh reminder of who needed to be seen as in charge. It accomplished the intended effect rather successfully, as upon registering it being spoken, it snapped him out of his temporary insanity. Releasing the headmaster's robe like hot iron ready to burn him, confused by the actions of his own traitorous hands, he stared at them in slack jawed bewilderment. Then, past his hands he saw the faces of the stunned onlookers.

"A thousand apologies, Your Majesty," he spat.

Pivoting on his heel, he marched inside the madrasa, listening to Jasmine make futile attempts at excusing his behavior and apologizing profusely. He had never heard her sound so embarrassed. It twisted his insides. Making his way to the back of the school, he sought a moment's refuge in the headmaster's office. Staring out the window, he thought he would have a few moments of peace to collect his thoughts and calm his nerves while Jasmine smoothed things out with the headmaster and made the rounds among the attendants.

Then again, it was an ignorant assumption to make of the wife he had just yesterday likened to a fiery warrior goddess. Despite being softened by the silk of her slippers, he could still hear the anger in the force of her footfalls. He winced as he heard the door slam.

"Do you care to explain yourself? Are you out of your mind!?"

If he prayed hard enough, perhaps Allah would send a conveniently timed sandstorm.

Rubbing at the pressure building behind his eyes, meekly he offered, "I told you I was sorry."

"Sorry doesn't even begin to cut it, Aladdin! Did you see their faces?" She was trying desperately not to shout — he could hear it in the strain of her voice — strangled only by the need to prevent any further attention being called to the unfolding scene he was making.

Ignoring her concerns, he turned, adjusting his tunic to have something to do with his empty, anxious hands. "We need to get you back to the palace as soon as possible."

"Did you hear a word I just said?"

Striding past her, he called to one of the guards he knew would have followed her, stationed just outside the office door.

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"The Sultana will be returning to the palace. Inform the rest of the escort we'll be leaving shortly."

The guard smacked his chest in salute as acknowledgment, then abruptly departed. Raking his hands aggressively through this styled hair, he dropped his hands, flexing them into and out of fists. Stern glare plastered to her face, Jasmine was behind him by the time her turned again, arms crossed so tightly it looked as if she was squeezing all of her rage into that glare.

Seriously, what did a guy have to do to get a sandstorm rolling these days?

"What is the name of Allah do you think you are doing?"

"If there's sickness in the city, I'm not taking any chances with you."

"Don't you think you're overreacting just a bit?" She threw her hands up in exasperation.

"When it concerns your safety," he said, stoic as stone, "not at all."

At that, she exhaled some of her anger, stepping closer to him. In a gesture meant to dissolve the tension, she guided her hand to gently smooth over the mussed waves, cradling his face when her palm reached his cheek. "And what about you, Aladdin?" He drew his hand up to cover hers and closed his eyes. "Why are you only worried about me?"

Letting the tension release from his jaw, he rolled his shoulders and met her eyes. "Because... Habibti, I didn't spend my entire life in the relative safety of a palace." Eyes boring deeply into her own, he swallowed thickly. "Plague always hits the poorest quarters first. I was lucky to survive… unfortunately, I can't say the same for my mother."

Drawing her hand back to her mouth in a failed attempt to conceal her surprise. "I didn't… you never told me how you lost your mother."

"It's not exactly my favorite topic of conversation, Jas." Dropping his head, shamed in front of her for the second time in as many days, he examined the floor. "I lost my temper. It was uncalled for, and for that I am sorry— "

"Tell that to the headmaster…"

" — but, I will absolutely not apologize for being scared, or wanting to keep you safe. I didn't face down Jafar just to lose you to— "

"Doniety, listen!" She grabbed his face with both her hands. "You're not going to lose me. I'm right here."

"You haven't been through that I have — you haven't seen what I've seen. Yes, the poor suffer the greatest, but the plague doesn't discriminate. It doesn't care if your a pauper or a princess."

"Well, good thing I'm not a princess, then," she said, flashing him a look through the tops of her yes.

Frustrated with her failure to see the severity of the situation, he still couldn't resist when she gave him those sultry eyes. Tapping the underside of her chin with his knuckle, he finally relented.

"You'll always be my Princess."

"And, you will always be my fast-talking thief." She tapped his cheek and stepped away to lean on the headmaster's desk, hip cocked and arms crossed again. "Top marks for trying, but you're not getting off that light."

Feeling more like himself again now that he had managed to cool off, he slapped his hand at his chest in mock pain. "Then, I beseech you, my wise and merciful sovereign, how may I make amends?"

"Well, the begging and the complements are a good start…" She threw out her hand matter-of-factly. "Yet, I'm afraid that I am going to have to teach you a lesson about disappointing your Sultana."

"Are you going to make an example out of me?" He growled, stalking towards her, pinning her between both arms, hands gripping the edge of the desk.

"I suppose," she said, affecting an air of superiority, "considering your rather unblemished record until now, we can avoid a public shaming." Hovering just above his lips, she purred, "I shall deal with your insolence in the privacy of our bedroom."

Forehead pressed to hers, he whispered, "It's gracious of you to salvage what's left of my reputation."

A knock on the door interrupted their banter.

"The escort is ready, Your Highness," the guard called from the other side of the door.

Pressing a quick kiss to his lips as promise of her intentions to come, Jasmine made to move, but Aladdin held her in place a moment longer, foreheads still pressed together.

"Promise me…" He exhaled harshly, drawing away. "Promise me you won't take any necessary risks. If there is an outbreak, let me deal with it."

"Alright, Aladdin." Searching his face, she finally nodded softly. "I promise… now come along, you reprobate. You must be dealt with."

Releasing her from his hold, he laughed to himself at the turn of events. "Thank Allah for unanswered prayers..."

"What?"

"Nothing."

A/N: Okay, I admit, not knowing the exact date of when the movie is meant to be set, and assuming the time is somewhere during the medieval Islamic age, a telescope is probably an anachronism... but it's my fic and I'll anachronate if I want to. I can't fight the beauty of restoring the loft into an astronomy tower. Besides, during the Islamic Golden Age, while Europe was mired in darkness and ignorance, the Islam empires were sciencing it up with all kinds of inventions, innovations, and discoveries. If it really bothers you that much, pretend I said astrolabe. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

madrasa - a school. In the Islamic world, a madrasa could be anything from a primary school to a college for advanced studies on topics such as science, medicine, or theology.

bimaristan - a hospital. During Medieval times, the Islamic world was renowned for their comparatively advanced medical knowledge and ability to treat diseases that were death sentences like places in Europe. For a fantastic movie about the culture and medical practices of the medieval Islamic world, I suggest watching The Physician on Netflix.