Author's note: To those of you who have been wondering, yes, I am aware that Disdain's name is spelled D-E-S-T-A-N-E. I spell his name "Disdain" for symbolic reasons. You all know what the word "disdain" means, right? Okay, note's over.

-Gozer

The young wizard held his breath for a moment, then let it out slowly. He managed to give the genie a weak smile in relief of hearing him say that.

In all truth, Mozenrath did want his powers back. Desperately. The past two years had honestly been the dreariest years of his life. He hated the fact that he couldn't disappear and reappear anywhere without getting ill, or that making an object float in the air stung like crazy. What was worse, those were the ONLY magical things he was capable of doing. To a commoner, those would be a blessing. Not for the lord of the black sands. He detested the feeling of helplessness. It did nothing but leave him empty. That was what fed his thirst for control. What could he say? He was a brat.

But then again, it had been his loneliness that had made him become more bitter than he had before. He hadn't realized it until he had begun to get along with Jafar. In his whole life, he never really had someone to talk to, apart from a flying familiar that could barely speak. And here was Jafar who, like he, had been a sorcerer once too. They had both gone too far with their powers and paid dearly for it. Jafar's invisible slavery and Mozenrath's ill-treated form- they knew. They both knew what it felt like.

He leaned against Jafar again, feeling the older man's arms wrap back around him in a protective manner. He sighed into his chest. The genie probably hadn't had someone to identify with in a while either. After all, wicked sorcerers weren't exactly what you came across everyday. Mozenrath grinned.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The kitchen was a total disaster. Mamluks were slowly trying to clean the place up while Xerxes looked on with an angry little face. Stupid undead servants, no brawn or brains. It was lucky that the room was still intact, only having ash everywhere what used to be bits of the unfortunate zombie, along with a few pieces of pottery it had knocked over while flailing about.

"Any progress?" Mozenrath asked, walking up next to Xerxes. The eel gave out a small growl. "Mamluks stupid." He looked over at his master. "Where genie at?"

Mozenrath smirked. "Down in the lab. He said that if I let him, he might be able to find something that can keep help us."

"Help us?"

"Jafar told me what was wrong." He glanced at the floor. "It's Disdain. He's back."

Xerxes recoiled in horror at the sound of that name. "Disdain back?!" he shrieked, "Xerxes thought he dead!"

"Evidently, he doesn't know how to do that properly." The wizard mumbled.

Xerxes swam around the room in a panic. "This bad. Very bad. Bad plus bad! Badder!" He looked at his master with a worried look. "Ooooooh, Disdain gonna be mad at Mozenrath."

Mozenrath glared at him. "Yeah, thanks."

"He be very very mad!" The eel continued, "Disdain get temper bad! Disdain so mad one time that he took whip and-"

"Hold your tongue!" Mozenrath shouted, grabbing the creature by the throat. His eyes narrowed into slits and his voice went low. "I know what he did. I don't need you to remind me, understand?"

"Xerxes sorry." The eel choked out.

Merciful Allah.

The wizard had been understating the facts when he told the genie how Disdain wrote down just about everything in the past thirty years of journal-keeping. He wrote down absolutely everything! There were about 21 leather-bound books and none of them had any specific dates recorded within. If Jafar needed something to do for the next decade, finding one little entry about a bloody curse was the thing to do.

Of course, Jafar had an easier alternative in mind. He held his hand out and produced from it a crystal orb. If he truly wanted answers from the past, he had the choice of seeing it for himself. Or in the present. He had never learned how to tell the future. (How irritating!)

That, of which, depended on where he was. When he lived in Agrabah, he had the power to see whatever was going on in the streets or palace. Back then, it was difficult. Now that he was a genie, it no longer was.

He held the crystal with both hands and concentrated on it intently, his eyes turning white with magic.

"Show me Mozenrath's history."

It only lasted a minute, but the events inside the crystal seemed to make time go in slow motion.

A young boy- five years old… abandoned… ran away… found a city with nobody inhabiting it… captured by mamluks… taken to a pale man with long gray hair and dressed in gray and brown… they call him Disdain… takes him in… puts the boy to work… he cleans the place up for a while… eventually becomes Disdain's apprentice…

Ten years old… given an enchanted gauntlet… he can do magic now…loves the sensation of it… practices… slips up- throws Disdain into a wall… not his fault, it was an accident… gets beat up anyway… Disdain realizes that this boy can go against him… puts curse on the boy for control… he's all his now… takes advantage of it… makes him his personal slave… developing beautifully… sexual favors… do this-do that… suffer the consequences… I'm your master now you little weakling… the curse begins taking a toll… skin on the right fingertips falls off… panic… soon come the fingers themselves… feeling helpless… magic becomes more painful to use… no escape… no mercy…

Thirteen years old… accompanies his master on an outing… Disdain gives him a strange flying eel as a reward for being such a good boy… boy calls it Xerxes… they become fast friends… gives a bit of self-esteem back to Mozenrath… he is more than he realizes… practices magic more… takes the pain… his entire right hand and wrist are skinless… thank Allah- he can still move them… sneaks into his master's private library and takes notes on spells… learns all he can… Distain never knows…

Fifteen years old… can't take the abuse anymore… enough is enough… payback time… stakes are against him… takes the chance anyway… catches Disdain off guard… a fight ensues… blood is shed… the man falls… his essence is drained… all that remains is a shriveled zombie… Mozenrath wins… dances into the night… freedom… freedom at last… Disdain's power surges through him… he wants more… feels so wicked… loves it…

A year later… learns about thurdaks… it survives on magic… he wants to use it as a weapon… brings it into his world… needs someone to put control over it… many try… all fail… except another man… Aladdin… but the plan backfires… thanks a lot… tries many more times to get back at the young man… exciting times… strange spells… magical monstrosities… even a try at getting rid of the curse… Aladdin always wins… the cheeky little bastard…

Magic begins taking a greater toll on his body… making him sick… no skin up to his elbow… gets violently ill… Xerxes becomes scared… that infernal curse… tries everything to get rid of it… no such luck… what now… die or give up magic… die or give up magic… he chooses to live… powerless now… there's got to be another way to get magic naturally without the glove… searches for anything that can bring it back… charms… potions… prayers… nothing works… two years pass fruitlessly… then he finds a lamp… a magic lamp… genie eradicates the curse… the power of the curse awakens Disdain from oblivion… thggvbjkjjlk… fgfjhjh… Jafar… uytfhbcfssdgf

The crystal went foggy.

Jafar stared at it. His mouth was partially open from awe. Merciful Allah… Disdain was truly sick. No, that was putting it lightly- the man was absolutely revolting. Nobody deserved what the boy had gone through. The things he had done to Mozenrath… and now he was coming back for him. Back for his little slave. This was worse than he thought.

Well, whatever fate had in stock, Disdain was going to get a taste of what happened when you messed with Jafar.

He smirked.

Or Jafar's master.