The sky had grown completely black.
As Mozenrath's eyes adjusted to the dark, he was able to make out the faint shapes of walls and pillars inside the citadel. He didn't know exactly which room this was, but it was definitely one of the larger ones.
It was cold. The marble floor was especially cold and chilled his bare feet. He wished that he had put on his cape, turban and shoes earlier. Why hadn't he done that? He hugged his arms close to his body, trying to keep warm.
And then he felt cold fingers grace the undersides of his jaw from someone behind. Making a surprised noise, he whirled around, preparing to lash out in case whomever it was proved hostile. But then he looked up into the person's eyes and any courage left in him instantly sank.
"You're dead."
Disdain grinned eerily down at his former apprentice, reaching out again to stroke his chin with one boney finger.
"No I'm not."
Mozenrath gulped, trying his hardest not to let the older sorcerer know that he was afraid. "What do you want?"
"Me?" Disdain's icy eyes narrowed. "You're the one who woke me up."
The young man bit his lip. "I don't recall ever doing that."
The grin on the old man's thin lips faded into a cold smile. "You got rid of the curse when I had warned you never to fight it." Disdain's cold fingers traced themselves from the boy's chin to the neck. "Remember?"
Mozenrath said nothing.
"You've grown since you and I last met, Mozenrath." Disdain said in a creepy tone. "Quite nicely, I might say." He let two of his skinny fingers glide over his lips, causing Mozenrath to recoil in disgust, wanting no more of this.
"Don't touch me."
The older man chuckled. "Are you afraid of me, Mozenrath?" He shook his head in a mocking fashion. "To think how ill you've treated me after I practically fathered you."
Mozenrath glared at him. "How ill I've treated you? What about the things you made me endure, you creep? I'm not sorry for getting rid of you, so don't bother trying your guilt shit on me."
Disdain leered at him. "And I'm not sorry either." He opened his mouth slightly, revealing his terrible jagged-edged teeth. "For what I'm going to do to you."
Mozenrath's eyes shot open.
He sat up in his bed and took a few deep breaths. A fresh layer of cold sweat was stirring on his skin. His hair was ruffled and his eyes were surrounded in shadow.
He put a hand to his brow, trying to calm himself down. That nightmare had been way too real. He had experienced nightmares with Disdain in the past, but none like that. This one was over the goddamn rainbow.
And I'm not sorry either… for what I'm going to do to you.
Mozenrath shook his head. "Bloody dream." And tugged the silk covers back over his head.
It was rather eventful in the kitchen that morning. One of the mamluks had evidently caught themselves on fire while trying to make breakfast and Xerxes was yelling bloody murder at the others to "get it right or pay with their broken skulls." An annoyed Jafar stood in the middle of all the chaos, having just used his magic to put out what was left of the burning zombie.
"Is this how you spend every allahforsaken moment in this shambling place?" Jafar asked, dusting himself off impatiently.
"No." replied the eel, "Mamluks just really stupid."
The genie took another look at the fried bones. "Indeed."
While Xerxes tried to restore order, Jafar excused himself to the dining room. For a moment he stopped, seeing a cleaned and newly-dressed Mozenrath sitting there in a sort of distracted state. A cruel smirk crossed the genie's lips as he took a seat across from him.
"So," he began in a sarcastic tone, "did the cannabis give you a pleasant rest or did you need another good-night kiss?"
Mozenrath felt himself blush at the memory of his stoned half-assedness. "Shut up."
And then his nose crinkled as it picked up a rather bizarre smell. "Is someone frying linoleum?"
There was some commotion heard from the kitchen.
"One of your zombie friends had a little mishap while cooking breakfast." Jafar replied blatantly.
Mozenrath replied with a simple. "Oh." He wasn't hungry anyway.
Pause.
"Hey… Jafar?"
"Hm?"
"I was wondering if you could help me with something."
Jafar shrugged. "If you can wish for it, boy."
"Stop calling me that."
"What?"
"Boy." Mozenrath's brow furrowed. "I don't appreciate being talked down to."
"Oh?" Jafar raised one eyebrow. "Well, you should be thankful that I refer to you as anything male-related, taking your features into consideration."
"What's that supposed to mean?!" Mozenrath demanded.
"I highly doubt that it hasn't been pointed out to you before." Jafar leaned closer to him and smirked. "You look like a girl."
Mozenrath's eyes shot fully open "I DO NOT!!!"
The way he said it like a whiny kid made Jafar grin. He was beginning to have fun with this, a bit like when they first met two days previous. His eyes narrowed deviously as he decided to prolong the verbal tormenting "You're one tanning session away from being princess Jasmine's overdressed sister."
"WHY YOU…" Mozenrath muttered something under his breath that sounded like "sonofabitch" and glared up at the genie's smug face. "Oh really?" He challenged, "Well, at least I've still GOT my looks!"
Jafar gave out a short laugh. "I believe it was yesterday when you said that I was 'sexy' with 'lovely eyes' and then kissed-"
"I WAS OUT OF MY BLOODY MIND!!" The young man shouted.
"Because you thought that drinking a pint of some unknown substance was a good idea, you idiot." Jafar added.
Mozenrath scoffed. "Stupid, I know. But it's hard to think clearly when you have a wild fire going on in…" He stopped. "Wait… What were we talking about before all this?"
"Oh, yes…" Jafar thought for a moment. "I believe you wanted my help with something?"
"Ah, that's it." Mozenrath said uneasily, realizing just how pointless that entire argument had been.
Jafar straightened himself out. "That was fun." He said, giving Mozenrath an amused smile. "We'll have to do that again sometime."
"I'd rather not." Mozenrath replied.
AU: Nothing like a bit of silliness. ; ) Next chapter will be far more serious, I promise.