Disclaimer: Aladdin is the property of D*sney, and I claim nothing but my own silly ideas.

Chapter 5

Too True

"Lets get down to business then."

Jasmine was unsurprised to find that in the short time since she had last been here, Hasim had managed impose his opulence on the meager accommodations. Though it was unclear exactly where he had managed to store all of the tapestries, mats and incense that assaulted her senses with their sheer vibrancy, the overall effect was something the princess could appreciate. Lanterns were strung from the overhead supports and bathed everything in a warm glow that was ruined for Jasmine by the thick tension that cast its sickly hue over the proceedings. Mozenrath's discomfort appeared to be of a more physical nature, as he was clearly too tall to stand up straight under the tent's low hanging ceiling, but was determined to remain upright until everyone else had taken their seats. Other than that, her enemy did not appear overly concerned with the situation he currently found himself in once he was seated.

Jasmine decided he was far more intimidating calm than when he was raging.

The Princess found herself watching him with anxiety. She was wary of the gauntlet's presence during these supposed 'peace' talks, but felt it would be inappropriate to ask him to remove it after he'd needed to defend himself against her guards. Rasoul had returned less than an hour before, rubbing his head viciously and she had given him a few large pieces of her mind to chew on in regards to his forceful actions. Jasmine contemplated Mozenrath's moment of weakness in her head. She knew his power rested in the glove, but for some reason it hadn't responded to him earlier that day. The thought occurred to her that it might repeat it's disobedience if he tried to use it again. Jasmine watched as the sorcerer tugged the object in question into a better fit around his thin wrist and decided that she didn't want to find out.

The eel circled ominously overhead before settling itself across Mozenrath's shoulders and Hasim seemed to take this as the cue to begin.

He took his seat at the top most point of the triangle that they formed. An elderly hand motioned to the map that was spread out between them across the floor mat and gestured to the border between the sorcerer's kingdom and her father's. Jasmine was extremely familiar with the size and shape of the state of Agrebah, but it was the sheer magnitude of Mozenrath's domain in comparison that surprised her. While all of Agrebah easily fit within the bottom corner of the map, the Land of Black Sand dominated nearly three quarters of her borders before trailing off the edges of the page into the abyss. Mozenrath was more concerned with two thin lines that outlined present and proposed trade routes then the disparaging sizes between the two territories. The old path lay just to the southeast of his kingdom and ran along the outer edge of the mountains that formed a natural border between the Black Sand and Agrebah. Jasmine knew from memory that the old route was dangerous and took more than 14 months for most traders to traverse. The princess thought of the recent disappearances and decided that the current situation was unacceptable.

She felt the confidence of her desicion bleed into her sense of unease and dispel it. Jasmine told herself that there was no objection large enough to merit the continued deaths and god knows what else that was befalling her people. Trade with the Northern Barbarians was necessary for her kingdom's survival. A safe route to complete those transactions on was necessary for her people's wellbeing. She reached out a hand to trace along the lines of her proposal.

"The mountains have proven to be too difficult for our people to cross successfully. If you would be willing to give Agrebah and her allies your permission to cross your land we could ensure the safety of our traders and cement stronger relations with the Northerners." She looked up to take in his reaction and studiously ignored the eel that was watching her from beneath his chin. Mozenrath relaxed into a look of easy dismissal that said he would not even consider it. She felt the floor begin to erode beneath her as he rubbed his familiar' head and refused to look her way.

"Why would I be willing to grant such permission when I can see no benefit to myself or my kingdom?"

Jasmine made to continue, but the he was very interested in putting her in her place now that he had the opportunity. She saw the sharp edge of anger in his face as he interrupted her half articulated thought.

"In fact, all I can see are the potential dangers. If traveling across my land is the only safe way for the Seven Deserts to commune with the overwhelming charms of the Barbarians, what's to stop them from sending assassins to my Citadel once I've lifted my protective wards? Your father may be popular enough amongst his peers to be relied upon to set this up, but don't underestimate the level of treachery humans are capable of in the name of greed."

Jasmine decided to play off his unexpected faith in her father's honesty.

"What if you just allowed Agrebanian traders, then? If your constant paranoia still allows you to trust that my father has no desire to betray your confidence, you could use our kingdom as an intermediary between you and the other rulers."

"Again Princess, what do I stand to profit? Would you peg me as a man who does things out of the goodness of his heart?"

'No. That assumes you have one.' The Princess smirked in spite of her cynical internal monologue. Hasim was right about his willingness to engage her. Now they were negotiating.

The Vizier produced one of the official scrolls from his basket with more flourish than his bony arms should have allowed and rolled it out over the map.

"His Majesties terms allow a large percentage of the profits for your use, my Lord."

The sorcerer reacted somewhat positively to this idea by moving forward to examine the papers. Jasmine recalled the former splendor of Mozenrath's now shabby apparel and decided that he would probably spend his entire allotment on oversized shoulder spikes and pointy shoes. She made a mental scoff at his commentary that she was childish when he walked around looking like he did. Hasim took his interest as encouragement and continued.

"This is, of course, in addition to a formal acknowledgement of your title and…"

She cringed at the Vizier's choice of words.

"A formal what?"

His outrage manifested as shockwaves, sending the eel flying towards the rafters, where it clung to the beams and shivered. Jasmine was disgusted with it all over again. Mozenrath's restrained temper returned with full force as he moved the gauntlet over the map as if to incinerate it as gesture of rejection. Hasim panicked for the first time that day at the impending destruction of his beloved paperwork. He leaned forward on his knobby knees and reached out his arms in a placating gesture, even as the indigo power of the gauntlet began to pulse around Mozenrath's outstretched arm.

"My lord, please, it is necessary in order to…"

With a flick of his wrist, Mozenrath imprisoned the old man in silence before raising his fist and shaking it with dramatic zeal.

"I single handedly overthrew my Master and became the most powerful sorcerer alive! I tamed the magic of the Black Sand and bent it to my will!"

He turned the tide of his anger on Jasmine.

"Why would I need the recognition of some fat foreigner to confirm that which should be obvious? I am Mozenrath, Lord of the Land of Black Sand, and I will destroy the Seven Deserts, leaving behind nothing but rubble! "

Jasmine's well-constructed thoughts jostled together as they were forced aside by her fear of this man whose eyes practically glowed with mania. He was evil. Mozenrath wanted nothing more that to tear everything she loved into little pieces and set the world to burn. Why was she handing him just the opportunity to do so? Hysteria was forming in growing clusters throughout her as she considered the dangerous path she had just placed her kingdom on by attempting to reason with this lunatic.

Seeking to protect her face she reached up and brushed the soft edge of her magical headgear instead. In the next instant, the warm tingle of Genie's magic spread down her fingers to pool in the palm of her hand before running down the length of her arm to rest over her heart. She closed her eyes as she felt a white wash of magic clear away the echoes of panic from her mind and leave behind the clear outlines of everything she needed to accomplish if she wanted to walk away from this encounter alive. Her eyes opened and she took in the scene before her with a new understanding. Jasmine decided that she really needed to thank the jinn again the next time she saw him.

'Always a good idea to keep a clear head.'

He certainly had a point.

The Princess placed her magically warmed hand over the icy grip of the gauntlet. She winced when she felt the sizzles and snapping pops of two magics reacting between their fingers, but held on despite the discomfort. The Sorcerer's fury turned to confusion as he experienced the sensation of a foreign power.

"Mozenrath, it was not meant as an insult."

She allowed her eyes to communicate her desire for his understanding.

"This is nothing more than a formality, telling our allies that Agrebah recognizes all that you have accomplished." She lowered he eyes to the gauntlet for her final admission. "My father is opening the door for you to gain influence and standing among the rulers of this region as a peer. It is a valuable offer to any young monarch."

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Mozenrath felt the warmth of the jinn's magic the moment she touched him. The girl was practically soaked in enchantments. His continuing physical discomfort was only excuse he could offer for not having noticed before.

The thin wrist positioned over his glove held a bracelet that was wrapped in a locator charm.

Her robes had been spelled to resist wear and tear, and protect her from disease.

But the most powerful item by far he had already taken note of, though he had been unaware of it at the time.

The headscarf was packed full of tightly woven magic to ward off confusion and coercions. There were spells to fight anxiety, terror, anger, exhaustion and, he noted with some amusement, arousal. He restrained himself from gaping at the sight. The skill and time that had gone into such an object suggested a master sorcerer's hand. But he knew the feel of jinn's magic almost as well as his own. Surprising, considering that most of the creature's spells were throw together so haphazardly that they broke apart after only a few moments.

Mozenrath knew the temperamental nature of the wild magic that ruled such beings. It needed focus and direction or it would burn itself out with the need to create, or destroy. This was why jinni needed masters to focus their energies. Otherwise they would spin out of control and destroy themselves in the process. Since Aladdin's jinn was free, the fact that it still had the mental faculties and the power to create such an object was astounding from a purely academic point of view.

On a personal level, he hated her the girl all the more for keeping such a prize specimen from him.

He felt her logic rub abrasively against the underbelly of his anger. Mozenrath could feel the truth in her words. By killing Destane, he had proven himself to be little better than Aladdin in the eyes of the nobility. To them he might be an able sorcerer, a capable opponent, or perhaps just a treacherous protégé, but none of this marked him as their equal. His birth and origins were unknown to the world at large and that was all that those people truly cared about. Mozenrath ground his teeth at the thought of being compared to that opportunistic peasant.

As if they were anything alike.

After his revelations that afternoon, he was able to recognize what the Princess was saying behind the veil of her carefully chosen words. Her father was handing him an opportunity that she had never been given. The Sultan would tie himself forever to Mozenrath's name by formally recognizing him as King. The Sorcerer's pride hurt that he couldn't take this kind of power for himself and he felt an old wound sting at the reminder of political mechanisms.

Some things never changed.

Mozenrath told himself of the reality of his situation. His goals ended with the destruction of the Seven Deserts. They would all feel the icy grip of death and bask in their own inability to save themselves. He would grind the fools' crowns under his heel and laugh in their vacant faces, before he went to his reward. If things were different, if fate hadn't demanded such a high price in return for his power, the sorcerer might have considered political manipulation as a means to an end. But speculation was pointless. All he had hoped to gain from this meeting was the ability to return to his desert without any detours or delays in her highness' royal dungeons. He had lost enough time to her already.

He raised his free hand to remove hers from the gauntlet, as she was clearly too fascinated by the physical manifestation of his much-discussed powers to notice that he was no longer in the mood to destroy her lovely maps. The soft touch of her fingers combined with the unguarded influence of the jinn's magic against his bare skin had an unexpected effect on Mozenrath. Though he could not be entirely sure what the source of it was, he found himself feeling overly… warm. In his current state of health it came across as the wet humidity of an unbroken fever and made him shiver with the desire to embrace the icy pain of the gauntlet once more.

The Princess jerked back from the contact of his hand as soon as she felt it, for which he was grateful. Though he now possessed so much ammunition against her that he was beginning to think that using his flirtatious comments to fuel her temper was becoming too easy. The girl obviously still possessed naivety in at least one area of life experience. Mozenrath grew tired of constantly circumventing her questions and distracting her with his half-hearted come-ons. He decided to turn the tables on her. The sooner she decided he wasn't worth her time, the sooner he could return home. He allowed the spell on the Vizier to dissipate before turning to him and doing his best royal brat impression. He hoped the Princess would recognize herself in his performance.

"What else?"

The girl jumped into the conversation before the older man could begin. The scarf's spell must have been wearing quickly of if she was able to reach that level of snappiness so soon.

"What do you mean, 'what else'? My father is making a very generous offer for such a small favor."

She was going to have to work on that entitled little attitude of hers.

"It is hardly a trifling matter princess. The magic of my land is not something easily controlled. And a merry band of travelers walking right into its waiting arms is not a temptation it will be able to ignore for long. I'm sure you've heard the legends…"

And he knew from her coloring that she had. Her face paled visibly in the lamplight.

"What you are really asking for is my protection, which I may be willing to provide in exchange for the same courtesy."

She sent a meaningful glance towards the gauntlet as she considered his possible implications. He got the impression that she felt he did not require any more protection, which was oddly flattering, except that she didn't know the first thing about how his magic worked. The girl gave up her conjectures and returned her attention to his face with a question on her lips.

"Meaning…?"

"Meaning that our Alliance will be more that a paper thin formality. Since the Sultan is feeling 'generous' enough to kick-start my international political career and make all of his friends aware of my presence, I'm sure he wouldn't mind inviting me to a few of his monthly get-togethers so that I can make a good impression on the neighborhood."

A crease, which he was beginning to suspect was created especially for her interactions with him, formed between her brows as she tried to connect what he was saying.

"I still don't see how that constitutes as protection, Mozenrath."

He made a small 'tsking' noise at the tone of her voice. "Wouldn't want you royals to start spreading rumors about me."

Her face retained its mulish expression and he opened the floor to her hobbling mentor by sliding his eyes in the man's direction. There was a knowing gleam in the man's hawkish face. He made a gesture that indicated for the Vizier to illuminate his point.

"What I believe Lord Mozenrath is saying, is that he wishes to be included in the meetings of the Seven to avoid the possibility of those meetings becoming a forum used to overthrow him."

The girl pursed her lips in a way that made him wonder exactly what she was holding in behind her teeth. He knew that he had won. There was no way that she would agree to such a preposterous…

"Before I agree, tell me, why aren't you taking this offer seriously?"

What?

"That's an awful straight forward question from an aspiring politician."

There was a calculating sharpness to her frail features as she retorted.

"Actually, it's not. Just a few minutes ago, you said you had plans to destroy the Counsel of the Seven Deserts. If this proposition of yours is meant to look like a ploy to get them into the same room so you can do away with them," she accompanied this statement with a sweeping gesture that might have been vaguely reminiscent of a spell, " then you've given me every possible reason to turn you down. I'm only trying to understand why you want me to give up on this alliance when I've already put so much effort into it."

He was speechless in the wake of having been found out. And was that… pride on the old man's face?

"You give me a lot of credit, princess. Perhaps I'm just that transparent."

"No, you're not. You're intelligent and shrewd enough to try and use my protective instincts against me, but your skills of manipulation are lacking. I'm not buying it."

She seemed awful pleased with herself, for someone who'd needed help following his trail of logic less than a minute ago. He gripped his knees tightly.

"And you seem to think that you can use social status as a means of collaring me into doing whatever you wish. What was the plan, little princess? Give poor Mozenrath some money and the chance to rub elbows with the popular kids. Then maybe he'll change his mind about converting all of you to dust and ash? Think again!"

"Who said I was trying to reform you in any way? I'm sacrificing some dearly held principles for what is best for my people! For what is best for you in the end, if you really want to succeed in conquering the world!" Even she seemed shocked by that statement in the silence that followed it. He asked his next question fully aware of just how interested he was in her response.

"Why would you help me accomplish that goal? Do you imagine that your compliance will win you a place on the arm of the most powerful sorcerer in the world?" It would seem that he wasn't getting tired of taunting her after all. She turned away, but his victory was ruined by her laughter, which contained all the same warmth as the sound of broken glass being swept together.

"As if I'd even be tempted! I've turned down that offer once before." The look of pained recollection said she was telling the truth. "If I wanted a political alliance, I could have had it. Last year every eligible man with a drop of blue blood in a thousand miles was willing to drop to his knees and beg for my hand." Mozenrath honestly considered telling her just how wrong she was on that point, but decided it would prompt too many intrusive questions.

"You still haven't answered me. What is your motivation behind this partnership, princess?"

She mouthed the word 'partnership' before allowing her mouth to hang open. He was beside himself with amusement at her cluelessness. Had she deluded herself into thinking this was somehow between him and her father? She was the one sitting in the middle of the desert, with nothing but a handful of guards and an old man to protect her from the most dangerous sorcerer in the world. She must possess a vivid imagination to not have realized what she was truly asking for. The desperation was back in her face and she looked to her adviser for help, but he remained stoic. The sorcerer had to give the man credit for having been able to turn her opinion of him around so quickly, considering that earlier in the day she'd rolled her eyes every time the old man spoke. Mozenrath wondered what the Vizier promised her to make her go through with this as a means to an end. Beneath that he wondered what other lengths she was willing to go to for those ends.

She didn't voice her reasoning, but when her hungry eyes met his he felt both the confirmation of this theory and the answering call of his own need for power burning in his gut. He knew then that she would do anything to gain dominion over Agrebah and her destiny. Despite their conflicting intentions and wildly different backgrounds, they shared this deeply rooted similarity. Something in the Sorcerer shifted at the realization of her ruthlessness. She swallowed and adjusted her position on the cushion with practiced grace, but refused to answer him. The Vizier surprised him by offering an explanation of his own in place of whatever lie the Princess was preparing.

"My lord, though I hate to disappoint you, her Highness' personal aspirations are limited to Agrebah at present." Mozenrath bared his teeth at the man's cheek. "However, I believe there is much for both of you to gain by working together."

Mozenrath let out a bark of laughter at the absurdity of the entire idea.

"Like what? Eventually I will achieve my goals of global annihilation and then where will she be? The dead Sultana of the Wasteland formerly known as Agrebah! Until then, there is nothing I require from her or anyone else!"

"That is not entirely true. You said yourself that the Sultan has made your neighbors aware of your position." He could have punched the geezer for using his ploy for rejection against him. "How easy do you think it will be for you to dominate to known world if you are barely able to hold your own borders?"

"The magic of the land…"

"Is no match for the greed of powerful men. They will send their armies and neither you, nor your magic will be able to stop them. You need Agrebah's influence to prevent your own destruction. Whatever your long-term goals are, you both need this alliance for the time being."

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Perhaps it was because neither of them had anything to say after that, or maybe it was the shared looks of teenage petulance that blossomed on their faces, but Hasim decided that his point was made and began unrolling page after page of contracts for them to sign. Their chorused groans were music to his ears.

Everything was proceeding beautifully.

A/N- I am so unbelievably sorry that this chapter took so long. I'm under contract with a second job right now and between that and me smashing my hand in a door at work, I haven't been able to type this up. Luckily, things should be less crazy this week and my poor thumb is on the mend, so I hope to have the next chapter up before next weekend.

Notes on this chapter... Surprisingly enough, most of this dialogue between Moze and Jas wrote itself. They really, really like arguing with each other. I've tried to include some immaturity in both of them as, in my mind at least, Mozenrath is around 20 and Jasmine is 17. That was the information that Wikipedia gave, at least. I had to laugh at the fact that even though they are supposed to be talking about what's best for both of them politically, they can't stop bringing up their personal relationship. Good thing Hasim is there with his own shady motivations to keep them in line!

Coming soon... The Scepter changes hands and everybody goes home. What will everyone's reaction to Jasmine's political savvy be? Did the Black Sand throw a house party while Moze was gone? Will Aladdin ever start wearing a shirt? Answers to these important questions and more next time!

If you have time, I'd love to hear from you guys! :-)