A/N: This chapter should be more humorous. I have decided to do it in Jafar's point of view.
Chapter 5
Family Feuds
(Jafar)
I sat in my chambers on the edge of an unmade bed. I took off the heavy red and black turban perched jauntily on top of my head and rested it in my lap. Catching my reflection's eye in a cracked mirror across the room that the slaves had not yet moved out, I threw the turban at it and missed, which was something that I hadn't done with a target this big for a long time: throwing stylus at running slaves was quite amusing, and I had become quite the marksman.
Finally giving up, I risked a small, sneaky sideways glance at the dented, tiny gold lamp resting on the dresser. The spout was long and curving, and it might have been me just being paranoid, but it seemed that a small wisp of green smoke was lazily swirling out of the top. However, it still nearly knocked me off of the bed when Jala materialized on top of the lamp, looking bored and uninterested.
I grudgingly pushed myself back onto the edge of the bed and smoothed the scalp of my bald head, forcing myself to remain calm. Was this genie going to continue making a fool of I, Jafar, the Grand Vizier of Agrabah? I didn't think so. "What do you want?" I asked coldly, trying to sound superior and get her to shrink back into that lamp where she had come from in the first place. Jala, however, showed no signs of backing down. "Well, you are my master," she said, resentfully, I thought, not seeming to care at all for the fact.
"So?" I prompted, knowing what was coming.
Jala stared exasperatedly at me out of wide green eyes. "Are you going to ask for your three wishes, or keep me waiting for an eternity? It's not very comfortable to have a master and not be granting wishes for us, you know," she said. I snorted. "And you think that I would care for your comfort?" Jala raised an eyebrow. "Well, I didn't think of you as the type that would anyways." With that, she shrank back into the lamp.
That left me, listening to rain pelting against the window and feeling slightly guilty about Jala's present condition, (though I'd never be caught admitting that. An evil record has to be kept up, you know). I pushed myself up and retrieved the turban from behind the cracked dresser. I was due to a visit to that street rat, Aladdin. After his supposed "talk" with his past beloved, (I sneered at the thought), Razoul was supposed to have escorted him down to the dungeons. However, Razoul was a young fool, and I was sure that he was going to mess things up.
I swept out of the chambers, secretly relieved to be rid of such an enclosed space. The dungeons were way underground, so I tried to enjoy freedom while I could. Rain continued to beat relentlessly against the roof. Aladdin's cell, as I had ordered, was under the deepest security: I was taking no chances. The sound of dripping water was magnified here, as there were un-patched holes in the wall that let in runoff. Drip, drip, it made the dusty gray stones of the prison cells turn pitch black and slippery. The water sloshed slightly around my black boots as I walked.
"Jafar!"
I recognized his voice before I saw him. The street rat was behind bars, with three hefty guards and Razoul himself supervising. "Quiet, you!" snarled Razoul through the iron bars. "You will speak when spoken to." Aladdin looked back defiantly. I smirked. "It's alright, Razoul. I enjoy some spirit in my prisoners. That way, you can watch as they tone down and become insane. Soon, they start rocking back and forth and muttering nonsense." I began to pace, just for the fun of irritating my enemy, gloating. "Who's got the last laugh now, huh?" I spat at his feet.
"I demand an audience with the Princess!" He shouted at me from the cell. I raised my thin eyebrow high in amusement. "Oh? And did you not just see her Majesty before you were confined here?" Something flickered in the street rat's eyes. His defenses were faltering. I liked this, and took advantage of it to provoke him some further. "Oh, I see. She shut you out, afraid of you dirtying her chambers with your grimy feet," I hissed into his face, curling my mustache slightly around my finger, an old habit.
Mr. Street Rat didn't speak back, in fact, he did not even move to my words. I didn't like that.
"Well? Tell me!" I roared at him. "Why do you seek audience with the Princess?" Aladdin flinched slightly at my sudden change of mood, but otherwise made no indication that he had heard me. Instead, he trained his eyes resolutely on a hole in the wall behind me, following the slight trickle of water that swam around my boots. I cracked my knuckles in frustration, something that I considered to be an amateur's gesture.
Just as I was about to verbally abuse him some more, there was a rush of air from behind me in the hallway. "Aladdin?" said a shrill voice. "Oh no, not her…" I mentally groaned. "Aladdin!" The Princess flew into the room and grabbed two of the bars holding him back. "Jasmine?" the street rat cried out in disbelief. Jasmine turned to me, then, as if first noticing my presence, her eyes burning with fury. "Let him go," she said in the lowest and most deadly voice next to mine that I had ever heard. "Why?" I asked, trying not to let my surprise leak into my voice.
Jasmine faced Razoul, ignoring me. That was one of the many things that I just couldn't stand: being ignored. "Let him loose," she said.
Razoul glanced uncertainly from me to the Princess, and then back again. "Err…" he said, thoroughly confused whether to answer a girl who held the kingdom in her palm's order to a guy who would probably banish him, let alone letting him live if he was lucky. "I'm sorry, Princess," he said finally deciding. "My orders come from Jafar."
He probably was shuddering from the evil glint that had entered my eye then, but then again, Razoul was like that. "Exxxxceelent," I drawled out the word, allowing myself the full pleasure of gloating over Jasmine's crestfallen face. Only to be stopped by surprise. And fear.
For hovering next to her, her arms crossed and blowing a strand of wayward blond hair out of her eye…was another genie.
She was hot pink, had platinum blond and straight hair, blue eyes, and freckles. She had many, many multicolored, silver, and gold bangles strung along her arm. She also had a black garment, identical to Jala's, except it was held up by a quartz clasp. She batted her long eyelashes. My eyes fell on a golden lamp, exactly the size and shape of Jala's but for a small but protruding dent at the top, stuffed into Jasmine's sash. Catching where my eyes were, she hastily stuffed it deeper into the fabric.
"Hm. Razoul, you and your men may go." Razoul knew me too well to question my decisions, but I felt him giving me an odd look as he led his guards out of the room. Now it was just me, Jasmine, and the street rat…and that genie. I wondered why I had not noticed her there before. Then, I realized that she had just come out of the lamp, the way that Jala did. Speaking of Jala, her lamp was currently hidden under the black belt of my robes.
The genie whistled, uninterested in the interesting situation, her arms crossed. I raised my eyebrow higher than they usually were.
"I see that you have a friend," I said, trying desperately to hide my surprise. It was undignifying for me to be surprised. Jasmine scoffed. "I see that you've met Haillie, my genie." I prayed that Jala wouldn't choose this moment to pop out for a few stretches of her lamp, when I replied, "Genie. Wow." I might have sounded sarcastic without meaning to, but whatever it was, Jasmine rolled her eyes.
It was too late for me to hide when a wisp of green smoke emerged next to me out of thin air, and became Jala. She yawned and glared at me. "I thought I told you to hurry up and make your wish, master," she said scathingly. I wanted to put my head in my hands and moan about how the world was all against me. As for street rat here, he was gaping from me to Jasmine, back and forth, with unsuppressed astonishment.
"Hey, and I was all, like, he's so, like ugly, girl, you should like, totally, like dump him!" said the hot-pink genie, whipping off what turned out to be a wig. Her real hair was wavy and honey-colored. "What's wrong with her…" I hissed to Jala. Jala looked uncomfortable and cleared her throat. "What's up with you?" I snarled in her ear. Jala cleared her throat again. "Ahem. She's, er, my sister." I felt myself warming up. I coughed. "Oh. Er. Yes." I sounded pathetic. Jala coughed. "Yes. You see, ever since her lamp fell off of a cliff and got dented, she has….special needs," she whispered.
I began to become wary. "What do you mean, special needs?" Jala sighed, and just shrugged her shoulder toward Haillie. "You'll see what I mean." Jasmine had stood there, mortified. It had seemed to escape their notice that me and Jala existed. Jasmine and the street rat were sharing a look so intense that it made my eyes, (and my heart) ache.
Whatever it was, they both had a lot of explaining to do.
'A/N: Please review!