A/N: Not to brag, but this may be some of my finest work ever. I am particularly proud of a few turns of phrase I conjured writing this.
That being said, I am going to preface this chapter by saying that I took a few liberties for plot-based purposes. To blatantly steal a phrase I read from the author's note of another Aladdin fic, I would like to state for the record that I am a non-Muslim potato. Beyond the fact that I immediately resonated with that term, and laughed way harder than I should have until I cried, there is no better way to describe my limitations of knowledge/insulting levels of ignorance regarding the Islamic faith, their complex system of belief, and the many interpretations of that faith. I am a history teacher, I have studied world religions, and I know a little more than your average non-Muslim. I find it to be a fascinating system of belief, and like all belief systems, having parts I agree and disagree with, varying wildly upon the different interpretations. Based upon that knowledge, this important plot point came to me, and because it worked so seamlessly, I ran with it. As always, I am relying on the expertise of my practicing, Arabic speaking readers to call me out on my shit if I just got this so very wrong.
So, with that noted, enjoy the next part.
The palace felt empty and devoid, but not as much as the desolate city. Nine days after the palace had received confirmation of plague, word had traveled outside the kingdom driving away travelers and traders. Ships were absent from the port, those docked at the time of the first reported cases now having fled before their sailors could bring it aboard. With the gates closed, guards posted on both sides of the wall to keep the sick in and the healthy out, the caravans bringing crucial supplies were now forced to camp at wahahs and wadis where the guards were sent to retrieve the goods, before moving onto the next leg of their journey. No sounds of life could be heard rising up from the sooq.
How was Agrabah to survive thirty-one more days, especially when it was going to get worse before it got better?
True to her promise, Jasmine had remained sequestered inside the palace, more isolated than she had ever been in her life. Those same nine days since confirming the outbreak were the same number of days since Dalia and Sunil had left. Escaped, really. Jasmine had planned to escort them to the port, see for herself this ship she had commissioned for them, and appreciate a long, lingering goodbye. Instead, Aladdin and her had to settle for forced, hasty farewells in the throne room before Hakim saw them safely to the ship.
Dalia — her best friend, her surrogate big sister, her Grand Vizier — gone in the time of her greatest need. Sunil, whose indispensable wisdom she had come to rely upon, gone with her. Baba was still over a dozen days away, soon to begin his return journey from Sherabad with Aunt Indira, but not soon enough. Even her interactions with Aladdin, now her sole confidante, had been limited to passing moments.
Serving as her general on the ground in a war against this disease had him rising early and retiring late, when he came to bed at all. Thankfully, most mornings she saw him at the council briefings, all the members reporting directly to her about the state of the available resources, the developments at the bimarestan, the extent of the impact on the population. Observing from the head of the table, she would watch as Aladdin marked the progress of the disease on a map of the city, as he delegated tasks as confidently as any leader she had seen, as he debated the merits of possible solutions with the other members to tackle the ever-developing problems that arose. Despite his repeated criticism of his competence as a ruler, he was proving quite adept.
Surely, his previous experiences had primed him for this particular crisis, but she had never once seen any of the members of their makeshift council dismiss him outright or question the basis of his authority. Much to her surprise, they hadn't questioned hers either. Obviously, she had to security of Hakim's loyalty, but the other three men took no umbridge over being directed by a street rat or a woman.
Ibrahim, the imam, frequently offered blessings upon them, remarking how their unconventional union and rule was truly a gift from Allah to the kingdom of Agrabah for all it had done to improve the lives of the citizens. The other two, Jibril, the head physician, and Navid, the master of the Merchant Guild, were too practical to concern themselves with petty squabbles over the power structure of the kingdom, especially when it was proving so fruitful, and there were more pressing concerns about the survival of the kingdom itself. Jibril couldn't heal without the resources Jasmine had been able to generously provide as Sultana. Navid had enough foresight to know that if the death toll rose high enough, the need to fill jobs in labor and trade could easily be filled by the other half of the surviving population.
She had been very lucky that in such a vulnerable moment in her kingdom's history and her short reign, she had been delivered the five best partners a Sultana could have hoped to find. More than once, she had considered keeping this a permanent advisory council after the crisis abated. She had no need for aristocratic viziers when she could deal with the experts directly.
At the same time, thanks to her promise to Aladdin, and despite the support of those she had gathered around her, felt she was contributing very little. She was disappointed in herself with how quickly she had become comfortable allowing others to do the heavy lifting in her fear that she did not have the knowledge and experience necessary to deal with this crisis. In effort to feel as if she wasn't just sitting idle, she had spent the majority of her time reading everything known about disease, learning about different types of illness, their causes, how they spread, and applied it to what she knew about the infrastructure to the city. Trapped as she was, the plague felt interminable, but eventually it would pass. When it did, she would make improvements to clean water access and sanitation her first priority.
And, as a side project, as a show of gratitude to Jibril and the tireless efforts of the physicians at the bimarestan, she had already begun drawing up plans for expanding the hospital, dedicating long term funding for the attached medical school, as well as financing an expedition for students to study the medical advancements made in kingdoms abroad. She hoped it would provide the framework for a scholarly and cultural exchange program through which to share the known world's accumulation of knowledge. Perhaps, someday, she would be able to build an immense library to serve as a repository for all that acquired knowledge, drawing students from all over to study.
Though not the first of their reforms, together she and Aladdin had built a school as their first monumental achievement. Perhaps, this library could be the keystone of their legacy. She couldn't help but smile at the idea.
The thought of her husband triggered an ache at his absence. Most of the time they had spent together since the party had been while they were in bed asleep. She fought the urge to be sad — it was the epitome of selfishness and privilege to sit in the protection of the palace and pine for her husband when unknown numbers of wives were lamenting the absence of husbands who would never come home. She could never tell him this, knowing what it had cost him, but she was thankful Aladdin was had grown immune. She counted herself very lucky that her husband's health was not something she would have to worry about along with everything else. It reminded her that she should take the time to express her immeasurable gratitude to Allah for this small mercy during al-Isha before retiring.
Raised voices outside her study drew her attention, and she abandoned her work on her desk to find the source of the noise. Coming to stand on the balcony that wrapped around the two story hall in the middle of the administrative wing, Jasmine saw Aladdin taking the stairs two at a time, arguing with Jibril and Hakim as the trudged behind him.
"If you won't listen to me, maybe you'll listen to your Sultana!"
"I'm afraid to even ask," Jasmine announced, all of their heads snapping upwards.
The two men lingering behind paused a step apart to drop a bow and a salute respectively. Aladdin continued towards her undeterred.
"Excellent timing!" He exclaimed, a manic quality to his statement that unnerved her. "Would you be so kind as to inform Jibril and Hakim that they are completely overreacting?"
Lifting a skeptical brow, she crossed her arms and leaned her hip into the rail enclosing the balcony. "That depends entirely on what you've done this time."
"Me?" His voice went high, hand to his chest, offended. "I haven't been able to do anything, and that's the problem." Throwing a thumb over his shoulder as the two men finally joined them on the balcony. "These two insisted I return to palace."
"Your Majesty," Jibril spoke, his tone already sounding apologetic. "For the sake of brevity, I will be blunt. Our dear prince needs some rest."
"Sure, why not?" Exasperated, Aladdin threw his hands up in the air melodramatically. "We're at peak crisis, but I'll just take a day off."
Concerns shifting at his word, Jasmine pushed off the rail. "What do you mean? What happened?"
"Well, I'd barely been at the bimarestan five minutes when I received a message from Ibrahim that the samaritans from the mosque are refusing to continue visiting the poor. They're complaining about the conditions being najis."
"What did they expect? These people are deathly ill." Ire was burning its way through her veins. "Have they forgotten the duty of 'iyaada?"
"My thoughts exactly," Aladdin replied. "Hakim and Jibril don't have enough spare manpower to make up for those unwilling to help, and the number of reported sick still is rising. So, I attended the mosque personally for al-dhuhr, and afterwards I thought I would offer a parting reminder about their duty to their fellow man — "
"Sire, with all due respect," Hakim sighed, holding the expression of someone braced for a blowback of hostility. "When that man stood up and proclaimed this plague was a scourge from Allah to punish the poor for their wickedness, your response was to shout Allah Yahkthek, then threatened to lock his children up in a room with plague corpses."
Aghast, Jasmine covered her mouth, whispering through her fingers, "Aladdin! You didn't!?"
"No! Incorrect!" He pointed, voice strained. "What I said was, how would he feel if his children were trapped in their home with their dead loved ones? It wasn't a suggestion! I just wanted him to think next time before declaring himself the next prophet and decreeing Allah's will!"
Taking a deep breath, Jasmine inhaled and exhaled deeply before asking, "Can we jump directly to the part where you're yelling at each other outside my study?"
"My Sultana, based on his behavior, I was concerned about his own health, and I insisted the prince return to the palace" Jibril said. "His dedication has been laudable, but he has barely slept the last few days, and I've rarely seen him eat."
"Who's going to make sure that the poor have food to eat?" Aladdin countered. "I have a responsibility to take care of my own, just like they took care of me."
"Your highness," Hakim said quietly, firmly, "You have been burning the candle at both ends for ten days. No one has dedicated more time and energy to helping the people of Agrabah than you, but you are only human, and you have limits."
"Hakim is right." Jibril agreed. "How will you take care of others if you don't care for yourself."
Pleading, Aladdin turned towards his wife. "Can I get a little help here?"
Looking between the three of them, Jasmine swallowed a curse. "Gentlemen, would you give us a moment?"
Excusing themselves, they descended the stairs. Searching her face, Aladdin's eyes were full of desperation. Placing a hand against his cheek, he whined as his willful demeanor evaporated at her touch.
"Doniety, you know they're right." She pushed aside that dark curl from his eye. "This is exactly what happened at the madrasa. You're pushing yourself too hard, you're holding in too much stress, and it makes you irrational and defensive."
"That guy was an ignorant ya ibn al sharmouta. His comment was pointed directly at me."
"Agreed," she laughed softly. "But, you took the bait. You reacted exactly how he expected a street rat to respond."
Shaking his head, he whispered, "Everything I've done for them, and they still don't respect me…"
"When it comes to people like that, you could lay your hands directly upon them and heal blindness, and the minute their eyes could see you for what you were, they would spit on you." She said taking both his hands, enclosing them between hers the best she could considering the difference in their size. "Some people are just hateful and cruel. We are all born tabula rasa, but we do not get to choose the words the world writes unto our souls. We are shaped by what we are told, what we see, and how we are treated. Why do you think it was so difficult for Jafar to find someone worthy of entering the Cave of Wonders?" Taking his face in her hands, she directed her fierce gaze into his. "Do you understand what a rare form of person you are to have endured the hardships you have experienced, and to remain so fundamentally good?" Dropping her hands, she turned her gaze back to the men waiting at the bottom of the stairs. "That man may never respect you because of what you were, but I know four others who respect you in spite of it." Returning her gaze to him, she canted her head sympathetically. "And right now, those men, and your wife, are very worried about you."
"Habibti, I appreciate that, and I love you even more for it, but this is the first thing in my life that I have ever been good at — " To which he amended when she opened her mouth in riposte, "first legal thing, at least. People like that man are only worried about themselves ... if I don't do this, who will?"
"If you run yourself ragged in the process, and become unable to do it as a result, who does it then? We're not telling you to stop, we're just asking you to slow down. You're no good to any of us like this."
Exhaustion evident in his face, he closed his eyes, gripped her tightly around the waist, and said, "Fine. I'll rest. But, just for tonight."
Smiling triumphantly, she tugged him along at arm's length like a pet on a leash as he reluctantly followed. He looked absolutely defeated, but she could deal with his pouting if it meant he would listen to reason and take care of himself.
"The prince will see you at the council briefing in the morning, gentlemen." She announced to Jibril and Hakim before entering the hall to the royal suite.
On their way, Jasmine stopped a servant to inform the kitchen that the prince would be taking his evening meal in their suite. Entering their rooms, Jasmine needed no other evidence that something was wrong with Aladdin than his complete silence. Guiding him to the bed, he planted his feet, bending his knees over the edge as he dropped his full weight backwards, surrendering into the bed.
Leaving him long enough to fetch something more comfortable to sleep in, Jasmine pulled open the doors of the wardrobe. Obviously, she didn't spend a great deal of time personally attending to his clothes, and she was a little embarrassed she relied so much on the servants as she searched through the folded stacks on the shelves, unable to find what she was looking for. Finally locating the sirwal, it sat on top of a simple wooden box she didn't recognize. Setting the sirwal aside, she lifted the hinged lid a few inches. Inside, she saw a faded purple kufi flattened against a folded red vest. Lifting the top layer of clothes, she saw the familiar striped outfit that he had worn with it.
Jasmine had always wondered, but had never asked what had happened to the outfit. After he'd been given several new sets, the original had just disappeared. She assumed that he had held onto it all this time for sentimental reasons. It broke her heart to speculate on the alternatives.
Having changed, Aladdin crawled into bed with Jasmine, laying his head upon her lap while she set against the backrest, fingers trailing through his hair. She didn't encourage him to talk or badger him with a lecture. They just sat in companionable silence, appreciating this fleeting moment together in a time of chaos as Jasmine slowly lulled Aladdin into the sleep he'd been avoiding.
The quiet gave her time to think over the problem of how to attend to the needs of the poor. If she had been even the slightest bit ill, she would have an entire army of physicians, servants, and family to attend to her needs. Surely, not everyone was being as heartless as the man at the mosque, but if there were enough samaritans refusing, and the number of sick was still rising, then they were definitely going to be short handed on people willing to deliver food, attend to the needs of the sick, or simply just visit long enough to fight the crippling isolation. If it were up to Aladdin, he would tend to each house personally, even if it killed him.
Sometimes, he was the world's biggest idiot. Other times, he really was too good for this world.
The nagging urge crept back into her mind, convincing her again that she wasn't doing enough. She was surprised when this time it was the voice of her mother.
We will only ever be as happy as our least happy subject.
Then, conjured by Aladdin's awful remarks, an image appeared in her mind.
How many days had he sat beside his mother's corpse waiting for someone, anyone to discover them? How many little Aladdins were out there right now waiting for the same thing? Unfortunately, Jasmine knew the horror of watching the light fade from your mother's eyes, but what was it like for a child to see that light fade and know that with it had died the only love you had ever known? That the sickness that had spared you had taken instead the only person who had ever wanted you?
...if I don't do this, who will?
Looking out the open balcony, half a day's light remained over the silent city. She could visit at least ten homes before the servants would be bringing Aladdin's meal. But, the only people in the streets were her own patrols — they would recognize her immediately. Reconsidering what she had found inside the wardrobe, a terrible plan formed in her head.
Sometimes, Princess, sometimes you just have to take a risk.
If she was caught, Aladdin would be furious. No argument or reasoning or flirtatious banter would make him understand what she had been thinking. Yes, he wanted the people, now his people, to act in accordance with the duty they had towards their fellow man, but he absolutely hadn't meant for her to take it upon herself to fix that. So, she just couldn't get caught. That's fine. It's not like she hadn't managed to sneak out of the palace before, and since then, she'd learned a few things from him. Besides, it wasn't like she wouldn't take precautions.
Having finally succumbed to several days worth of exhaustion, Aladdin was dead to the world. Gently, she slid her lap from under his head, replacing it with a pillow. He barely noticed before he shifted, wrapping the pillow in a stranglehold. He'd be out like this for hours — she had time. This would work. Everything would be fine. Opening the wardrobe again, she popped the lid of the wooden box and removed the garments stored inside.
A/N: Alright, again, I was forced to do research, and I don't feel particularly confident about the accuracy of some of the translations, the swears especially. I tried to do confirm accuracy through multiple sites and trying to search out different versions, but I was worried about changing the spelling of some of these. I know how confusing English is, and how one word can mean five different things, and how a slight spelling difference can make two words vastly different. So, I'm going to trust what I found until someone tells me otherwise or suggests something better.
wahah- oasis
wadi- stream, river, dry bed, or valley
sooq- marketplace
najis- things that are impure or unclean, making them unfit for prayer. I have often seen Muslims wash their hands and feet before praying at a mosque.
'iyaada- one of the duties Muslims have to other Muslims, in this case, visiting the sick
tabula rasa - "blank slate", this one is actually Latin, but the concept is inspired by Islamic teachings. It is a philosophical idea along the lines of nurture versus nature, that we are born "blank", lacking preconceived notions about anything, and our learned experience dictates who and what we become. It is my understanding that, whether it is refered to tabula rasa or not in Islam, this concept is applied to children making them incapable of sin prior to adulthood. Basically, if you die as a child, you automatically go to heaven b/c as a kid, you cannot be held responsible for your actions.
Allah yahkthek- "May God rip out your soul"... still not sure about this one, but I really love the punch of this as an insult
ya ibn al sharmouta - "Son of a bitch", though I am confused b/c I saw another word for bitch, and saw this translated on another site as "son of a whore". But, "Son of a bitch" is my second go to curse after fuck, so I really wanted to include it
kufi- the style of hat worn by Aladdin as part of his "street rat" outfit (...at least, I think I identified it correctly. I struggled to find a solid difference between a kufi and a taqiyah, which I thought was the knitted cap worn under a head scarf, like the Sultan wore under his turban during the Speechless sequence). Some comments said you can use the words interchangeably, but the two hats look pretty different to me... but then again, what I do know? Like I said, I'm just a non-Muslim potato.
Ladies, feel free to make alternate suggestions if these are incorrect.