Beds lay cold for nearly a week.

Aladdin and Jasmine were at odds now, and it wasn't hard to tell everyone knew it. The servants, (most likely to be abused during such a period), were careful to tread lightly around both their Sultan and Sultana. There had been an argument, loud but inarticulate from the other side of the big gold gilded doors that made up the room of the 'happily married couple'. It raged well into the night, ending somewhere near dawn where Aladdin finally tore out of the bedchambers, face red with anger and embarrassment, and took to the second set of royal suits, locking the knob behind him.

But outside marital difficulties, a war still raged. Diriel could not penetrate the carefully built shield around Agrabah's main city, but he was doing his worst on all he could reach. Crops and fields, as well as the small villages that maintained them were burned and ravaged. His demonic creatures had taken the bodies of those captured in the outer lands and rammed a pike through them in the worst possible way, leaving their bodies on display along the sands of Agrabah's wall.

Some of the poor men and women were still alive.

And yet even to those who would take this opportunity as just cause to throw Mozenrath over the wall, they knew it was too late. Aladdin had made his decision, as Sultan, to protect this pathetic sorcerer…not even a sorcerer. A slave. To stand against him in this would be considered an act of treason. The nobles of the council had hitched themselves to his star.

Even if it was to fall.

Jasmine, alone in her own rooms, wept constantly. She did as all women do when they find that their loves heart may belong to another. She cried, her stomach hollow to the core with anger, blame, guilt, hatred.

It is his fault! She roared to herself, the image of Mozenrath appearing to easily in her head. It is the fault of that whore! He plays his innocence all too well. He bleeds, he bow, he cries out in pain and Aladdin is taken advantage of. His heart, which clearly is as black as each hair on his head will use this to undermine me. Me! Aladdin rightful wife. It is my place, my happiness to be with him! I have risked everything so that he would sit with me on the thrones. So that Aladdin and I could make this kingdom ours! And he will ruin it! Mozenrath will ruin it with lust and pity out of vengeance towards us!

Jasmine threw her head into her hands, crying until her vanity mirror shook with the same force as her body. She felt at sometimes like such a silly little girl. Like a spoiled princess who cried because she could not have what she wanted. Didn't she love Aladdin? Didn't she? Then didn't she trust his love for her. He had told her about this kiss. The frustrated, angry, hurtful kiss. And she knew, thanks to her dear Rasoul who stood guard every night over the sorcerers chambers), that his bed had gone as empty as her's over the last week. If Aladdin didn't love her then wouldn't he have taken this tiff as his advantage to go to Mozenrath and…

And yet she knew for a fact that each time he had visited Mozenrath before there had been nothing between them. No longing kiss and glance. No bodily caresses of desire. She could feel the tension as thick as mud but he had not physically betrayed her. Maybe she was over dramatizing the whole thing. Maybe she was being a brat and an idiot.

Maybe if I'd been a better wife. She though and looked at herself. She was the picture of Arabic beauty. Skin as perfect a color as caramel. Eyes wide and brown and intelligent. Her body was curved and ready, beautifully proportioned and decked as befitted a princess. Men desired her! She had known this from the time her first suitor had come through the gates! And man after man she had turned down for all their jewels and silks and kingdom. Prince after Sultan after King she had refused because for all the wanton in their eyes when they looked at her, she could see nothing of love.

And then Aladdin. Who made her feel special. Who made her feel loved. He did love her. That was apparent in every time they touch and kissed. When he lay beside her in bed and wrapped a protective/possessive arm around her middle. When he looked at her and the bright light of his honey eyes shone at her. He did love her.

So the fault must be her own.

How long had they been married now? Two years going on three. A good wife would have been heavy with child by now. It wasn't as if she hadn't tried often and with great fervor. And yet through all their lovemaking and active participation, her belly remained hollow and without life.

She had gone to her handmaidens, the ones with five or six babies at home and a belly already pouching with number seven, and asked them how it was to be done. She had downed all sorts of nauseating mixtures and put little totem dolls under her bed that smelled of horse sweat and berries. She had even gone so far as to stand on her head right after wards, (with Aladdin deep in sleep), in hopes of helping everything reach it's proper place.

Nothing.

If I was a better wife I would have swelled by now. Then I could bare his child. He would be more mine than he could ever be any harem girls or slaves…

…or Mozenrath's.

Jasmine looked around. She had dismissed her servants and guards for time alone to think. Her bedroom was empty save of herself and the quarters fitted the mistress's mood. She went to her closet and walked to the very back, digging past old outfits and shoes till she reached a battered old box in the back. With tender hands she pulled it open and withdrew a small scrap of cloth. It shone pale violet it in the candle light, sparkling with little gold twine used to sew it together. It was old, wrinkled, and the color had faded along the edges. But as Jasmine held it to her face and breathed in deep, she could smell things familiar only to her. Hair oiled with almond extract and skin smoothed with coco butter. She could smell female and warmth and tenderness all in one and it comforted her.

She kissed the cloth quietly. The one relic of her mother she had salvaged from all the old rooms being cleaned out. She had never known the Sultana who had possessed her father's love. She could not remember it, but when her mother had died in childbirth with her brother, her father had become completely inconsolable. It was only after Jasmine had begun to resemble her mother that his temper had cooled and he became more as a Sultan should be.

Jasmine thumbed the cloth, thinking as the moonlight shown upon her. A child. She though as she leaned upon the siding. A child would solve so much of this. I would hold in myself more of Aladdin than any other ever could. I would be a better wife…a better Sultana…

I would be a Sultana like my mother was.

Jasmine caressed the cloth, rubbing it against the soft part of her cheek. A knock sounded at the door and she turned, her lips pursed. "I do not want to be disturbed." She said shortly. The creak of a door opening reached her ears and Jasmine turned, standing with regal pride and hiding the cloth behind her. ""I said I do not want…oh!" she paused as she saw Eden standing in the hall with a tray with her dinner on it. "Eden. I'm sorry I didn't realize it was you."

The female djinn smiled a little and came forward. "It's okay. I figured you wouldn't want a servant to bring this up." She took the food and put it on a little table. "I though you might want some company though. You've barely come out all week."

"Not that it seems to matter." She said ruefully and Eden flinched. "Well do I need to lie to myself Eden?" she asked. "Where is Aladdin? Has he tried once to open those doors and apologize to me? Had he…has he flown up on carpet to my balcony and tried to win back my love?" she shook her head, feeling rage brim again. She wanted so badly to control herself but the humiliation was just too great. Bad enough her husband now turned to a man's bed, but to ignore his wife completely! It was beyond insult!

"If he had?" Eden asked patiently, sitting down beside the young princess. "If he had tried would it have helped or would you have thrown something at him?"

Jasmine made a soft snort of laughter. In the middle of their fighting she had launched a vase at Aladdin's head and hadn't missed. "Is he alright?" she whispered, truly concerned.

"Oh fine. Boys skull is as thick as a rock." The green djinn shrugged. "He didn't even need stitching." She handed the Sultana a glass of tea and took hold of a thick brush. "Here…my mother used to do this for me." She undid the long, thick hair and began to bush it bit by bit, taking a firm but gentle hold.

Jasmine felt the tension roll out of her shoulders. "I didn't know genies had parents." She said absently and then realized what she said might be taken offensively. She looked up at Eden and blanched. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to…"

"It's alright. I mean most people don't really bother to ask genies many questions do they?" she said softly.

Jasmine blushed and changed the subject. "And…Eden I need you to be honest with me." She turned to the woman and took her hands. She did not trust Rasoul to be entirely honest, even if it was because he was afraid of her wrath. "Has Aladdin…"

"He hasn't gone anywhere near Mozenrath." Eden said straight forward. "He's been going straight from his bedchambers to council, then checks on the guards and disappears back into his rooms again."

The Sultana could not help some glow of satisfaction to know he was as miserable without her as she without him. "And Mozenrath?" she questioned, gulping on his name.

She seemed to pause for a moment, giving Jasmine a long look before answering. "He's staying out of the way. Every time a guard opens the door to check on him he flinches. It's like he expects a death warrant to be handed to him at any moment." She was searching Jasmine's face with unbearable scrutiny, looking for any indication that might be where her thoughts led.

The Sultana avoided her eyes. Angry as she was, the though of having the sorcerer killed had yet to enter her fantasies. "Am I being a horrible bitch Eden?"

"Not a horrible one no." She answered honestly.

"I prepared myself a long time ago for the eventuality of other women." Jasmine said shortly. "My father, who loved my mother so much her death nearly drove him insane, had harem women. His father had harem women. And his fathers father had harem women. It was an unavoidable fact that Aladdin would as well. I was ready for that! I was prepared for it." She hung her head and whimpered pitifully. "But not for him to fall in love with another."

"Are you sure it's love?" Eden said suggestively. "Mozenrath is…an attractive man. Are you sure it isn't just a passing lust?" She suggested it more from kindness than anything else. And Jasmine caught the inflection.

Eden was trying to help, and she blessed the djinn for that. But she knew the truth of it. She had watched, half in jealousy, half in sympathy as the two en grew closer. She could sense their need, both mental and physical of one another and she felt canceled out. Was that it? Was her problem not with Aladdin's loving another but fear of him no longer loving her?

I could not bare it! Jasmine felt her eyes burn with tears ready to brim over. I could not bare it if I could not have his love! Please, Allah, I will be a better wife! I will bare a thousand sons and share my husband unguardedly but do not make it so that he no longer loves me!

Eden was not surprised to see Jasmine start crying for no apparent reason was, after all was said and done, a woman. And women do not question another woman's tears and sorrows. They simply rear out their arms and hold one another, Friend's becoming sisters within instants.