Chapter 52: The Prince's Return

I stood on the balcony of my old rooms and stared out at the city of Agrabah.

In less than a year, it would be our city.

In less than a year, Jasmine and I would be wed.

In less than a year, I would be free of my cursed amulet once and for all.

It was an incredible prospect to consider. I ought to be thrilled and celebrating or even better, I ought to be asleep. Instead, I had taken the fourth best option and slipped in here while Fahir and the other guard outside of the princess's rooms weren't looking.

I knew that Jasmine always came out to her balcony before bed. All I had to do was wait for her to finish her dinner with the Galafem delegation and begin her nightly routine. Soon she'd see me out here, shivering in my traditional Mujulaai attire which was ill-suited for a dry Agrabah winter night. Then she and I would discuss my absence and this evening.

The princess had seemed elated by the result of our audience with the Mujulaai Pandit Commission. However, the court had been too full of listening ears to be sure of her true opinion, and there was so much to process. Even I was still ruminating on what had occurred.

Several hours ago, I had been trying to keep my wits about me. I knew that I could not spare a thought as to why I had been incapacitated for over a day. I knew I needed to focus on the Mujulaai Pandit Commission and appear every bit the prince I wanted them to see.

However, the gap between knowing and doing was proving itself to be wide in this case.

My efforts were further hindered by the leader of the commission. He walked behind the procession of people with their great fans, small drums, beaded necklaces, and Mujulaai blue holy garb. When he came up front to address the thrones, I made myself search his features. The middle-aged man was straight-backed, dignified, and bald with thin eyebrows. It seemed as if most of his hair had been reallocated to his enormous gray mustache. One would be hard-pressed to forget such distinguished facial hair and yet, I could not remember seeing it or him before. I was facing a complete stranger who had not given me a second glance thus far.

To make matters worse, the holy man's voice was soft and he favored the traditional Mujulaai manner of address which had him using paragraphs to convey perhaps no more than a single sentence of meaning. As that great mustache of his waggled, panegyrizing the many virtues of Agrabah, Jasmine, the Unassailable Mother Goddess, and who knew what else, I grew more and more lost.

The sultan eventually interceded. I did not catch his exact words, but the effect of them was apparent.

The holy man whose name I still didn't know had, at last, noticed me and the amulet I was wearing. His mouth hung open in thankfully silent surprise. His attention and the attention of everyone in the court were honed in on me.

This was my moment.

I was supposed to say something along the lines of:

I do not believe we have formally met before today. Good Evening…

If things had been going well, I would next say the name and title of the man who held my future in his hands and give him a small bow if his rank was high enough.

Instead, I stood frozen in place.

My amulet lay heavy on my chest.

I could feel it along with my pounding heart, the clothes against my skin, the sweat oozing from my unsteady hands, the way my teeth felt too big for my mouth, the tightness of my shoes, and each and every twitch of my ears and nose.

The holy man addressed me in ancient Hindi, a language I had not heard spoken aloud in ages. At least, I thought it might be ancient Hindi from the way his mustache moved.

I didn't really hear him.

I couldn't really hear anything beyond the sound of my own heartbeat.

Durga protect me.

I needed to calm down. I needed to calm down right now. I needed to say something and not ruin my one chance at happiness.

I swallowed, feeling the way my muscles contracted, and tried to take in a deep breath through my nose. Air trickled into my nostrils, filling them with the overwhelming smell of polished metal, spices, sweat, and fear.

No, not fear.

I wasn't scared. I couldn't be scared. I was a prince of Mujulaain. I was above fear.

I had to be.

I had to do this and it ought to be easy. I only needed to say hello and tell the man to repeat himself.

That was all.

I cautiously opened my oversized fleshy lips.

"This," it was Jasmine, not me, who spoke. Her voice sounded tinny but familiar, "is Prince Alagan Dhiren Rajaram, my betrothed."

The holy man was nodding.

Did that mean Jasmine had answered his question? Did she know ancient Hindi then? When on earth had she managed to pick up a new language?

I glanced at her. My princess looked oddly shiny as she smiled at me. "It is a long story," she said, taking my hot sweaty oversensitive hand in hers. "but," she turned back to the holy man, "we were hoping that you had come to hear some of it, Pujari Pranjal."

From then on, the princess led the discussion and kept her hand clasped around mine. A searing heat blazed between us, but she did not seem to notice. My princess remained perfectly calm and composed as she recounted the court-approved story of who I was and how I had come to be here. During that time, I quietly worked on conquering my irrational state of mind and grounding myself firmly back into reality. Thus, when Jasmine finished her explanation and the pūjari asked to see my amulet, I was able to nod at him.

The holy man came forward and touched my amulet with reverence. The letters on the lapis lazuli stone glistened with divine power as they should. Then Pūjari Pranjal looked into my eyes. I could feel him searching for something.

No recognition passed between us.

He stepped back and my heart started to race again. This time, though, I was able to make out the man's words when he spoke. Pūjari Pranjal said, "I am honored to have the privileged to behold this holy and sacred relic with my own eyes. The Vyom is, of course, a marvelous artifact, but this is the heart of the Mujulaai royal line. Words cannot express the glory, the majesty, the power contained in this gift from the mother goddess herself, and to see it in its awakened state is an experience I thought I would never have. You have blessed me, Rājakumāra. You have blessed us all with Durga's light."

Jasmine squeezed my hand encouragingly. Despite my fumbling, things were proceeding accordingly. The pūjari continued to speak for a while, but his message was already clear. He had acknowledged me as his prince.

"But surely that can't be enough," the sultan broke in a few minutes later, glaring at us all.

"Please forgive my impertinence," Pūjari Pranjal began. "I am loath to do anything the least bit displeasing after you have shown me such commendable hospitality, Sultan Hamed. I only wish for you to have the most accurate information available and such a treasure is not without pitfalls and contradictions to what one might call common sense. Let it be a testament to the diverse cultures of our countries that such gaps of knowledge exist for it is only natural that Agrabah has its own hallowed customs for rulership as such it is in Mujulaain.

My homeland has a multitude of traditions that even the most powerful and educated personage elsewhere would find foreign. Again, I ask your forgiveness for as unintuitive as it may seem to you and others, Sultan Hamed, in Mujulaain, the Jala, or to simplify the translation, the phantasmagoric water pendant, is a part of the Damon Amulet which is a gift from our goddess, Durga, and her vahana, Damon. This incredible relic has remained the symbol of our royal family for countless years because it is far too powerful and sacred to be borne by anyone else but those of the purest Mujulaai blood.

Consequently, the possession of the Jala is indeed more than enough to prove the identity and nobility of Prince Alagan Dhiren Rajaram of Mujulaain. May his life be long and fruitful." This last pronouncement was said with an air of finality.

"See, father," Jasmine put in, "it's as Prince Dhiren and I told you on his first day."

His highness huffed but said nothing.

The pūjari addressed me, "Rājakumāra."

"He actually prefers Prince Dhiren," Jasmine responded.

Pūjari Pranjal gave her a look, but all he said was, "I see," before returning his gaze to me. "My prince, it is a joyous occasion to see you here and it would be an unspeakable privilege to officiate your return to the ranks of the blessed Mujulaai royal family."

"Why am I sensing a but?" Sultan Hamed interrupted.

"Because you're a jaded old man who is hoping this won't work," Jasmine hissed.

"Princess," I managed to whisper.

"Hush, Jasmine!" the sultan snapped in a louder voice. "Puja Pranjal, please answer my question."

Pūjari Pranjal began once more, "Forgive me, Sultan Hamed. I fear our culture's—"

"No. No," the sultan said, brusquely. "There's no need for all that again. I forgive you for whatever nonsense you wish to apologize for, but I cannot forgive you for wasting my precious time. As my daughter says, I am an old man, puja, so please, just get to the point."

"I shall try," the pūjari replied, looking a bit uncomfortable before he turned to me again, "My prince, Rājakumāra, as I have said, you have awakened your amulet. This is a wondrous achievement."

Sensing Sultan Hamed's hard look, Pūjari Pranjal cut off probably an entire essay of non-content and rushed to say, "Nevertheless, it is a vital custom for your amulet to be dormant or removed before you marry into another family.

The performance of this crucial rite is unfortunately beyond my humble abilities. Of all the people in Mujulaain, only Panditrao Phet or Prince Kishan could assist you. Each in normal circumstances would be most pleased to help. However, Prince Kishan will be preoccupied with the peace negotiations on our northeastern border for some time and the panditrao has declared it his divine duty to stay within Mujulaain for the rest of his mortal life.

Consequently, the best way to facilitate your marriage in a timely manner is for you to return to Mujulaain. It would be my honor to escort you and an honor for you as well for Prince Kishan plans to return home for his wedding in the spring. I can say with some confidence, Rājakumāra, that nothing would be more proper or ideal than for you to come home and stay until your brother's wedding so that Panditrao Phet can transfer the Jala to him during that auspicious time."

Ideal?

He thought that was ideal?

The roundtrip alone would take at least three weeks and a royal Mujulaai wedding was a time-consuming ceremony that took many days to complete. As brother to the crown prince turned bridegroom, I would need to leave for Mujulaain almost immediately to participate in all the proper fanfare. The very idea of me being back in Mujulaain, as my brother's advocate, with my family, away from Jasmine for months was…

It was…

Nothing.

That is what your tone should imply, Ren. For, there is nothing irregular about this. You and I both know that all crown princes of Mujulaain are expected to study abroad in their ad—

"But what about my wedding?" Jasmine demanded, cutting through the unwelcome memory. "I want to get married in the spring too."

"Don't throw up a fuss, Jasmine," the sultan chided. "You'll be able to take care of the wedding planning while Dhiren is away."

"Will I?" she challenged.

"Puja Pranjal," the sultan snapped at the holy man, "Are you truly senior enough in your government to formally confirm Prince Dhiren's identity?"

"Indeed, I am, Sultan Hamed," Pūjari Pranjal said, without hesitation. "And let me just say for all here that it is truly an honor to…"

While he spoke, Jasmine let go of my hand and went over to hug her father. Then she put an end to Pūjari Pranjal's latest speech by giving him a hug as well. Finally, she hugged me. The embrace between us burned with an indecent intensity as she cried out, "We did it!"

In a softer voice, she murmured, "Don't worry, prince."

That was impossible. I could not begin to comprehend the enormity of all this. My errant thoughts once again turned to our failed lunch and the mess of questions and consequences that surrounded it. Everything we had been working for in the last few weeks had nearly been ruined because of a two-day separation.

What would she do if I was gone, not for days, but months? We had never been apart for that long and I knew far too well how much things could change in such a time period.

A royal court was a royal court.

If something came up and I wasn't there…

I gazed down at the most important person in my life. She was my betrothed, my best friend, my whole world. I would do anything to ensure her happiness and safety.

Anything.

Jasmine gave me an extra squeeze and promised, "I'll make sure that we get married before you leave."

What?

It took everything I had to hold back a disapproving frown.

What was she saying?

I knew that Jasmine was anxious to be married, but she knew how I and the rest of the court felt. We needed to have a proper ceremony and anyway, what did an earlier wedding have to do with…

The princess's eyes twinkled suggestively at me.

Oh.

I truly was out of sorts this evening.

She was jesting. Of course, she was jesting.

While I had been busy being a hapless over-sentimental short-sighted fool, my princess had masterfully handled everything this evening.

Of course, she was smiling through whatever other emotions she felt, and of course, she was trying to get me to do the same because that was what a true monarch did. As a prince, I ought to put aside my misgivings and follow her example. I ought to at least smile at her attempt to lighten the mood.

Even if I had not found it amusing, I needed to smile. She was watching for it and so was the rest of the court.

I could feel their eyes on me again.

All too suddenly, Princess Jasmine left the protection of my arms and turned to face the ever-present crowd.

"People of Agrabah," she announced in a carrying voice, "After many trials and tribulations, my very first suitor has proven himself to be the best choice for my future husband. My betrothed's superior breeding and unending dedication to Agrabah's improvement speaks for itself and now his country once again recognizes him for the perfect prince that he is. Finally, I have a suitor that I can truly be proud of." She seized my hand and jerked it upward. "Today bear witness because it is official. Prince Alagan Dhiren Rajaram and I are getting married!"

Cheers erupted from the mass of onlookers. Everyone was happy. Even Sultan Hamed managed a begrudging smile.

Plans were made for a feast tomorrow and all around, I started to receive congratulations. Pūjari Pranjal, Sultan Hamed, and even Jasmine faded into the background as I became the center of attention. Through it all, I made sure to display my best princely smile.

I forced my unwieldy mouth to eke out the proper responses and conducted myself as expected. Even when the princess left to go back to her dinner with the Galafem delegation, I went on smiling and talking about my good fortune because that is what one does when they finally receive their name, title, and destiny back.

I was Prince Alagan Dhiren Rajaram, son of King Rajaram and Queen Deschen of Mujulaain. I was engaged to the elusive Princess Jasmine and everyone who mattered could see me for who I truly was.

I could not be unhappy.

I could only smile.

I was not smiling anymore. In fact, my sore mouth had gone slack and my fingers were curled tightly around the railing of my old room's balcony.

I had been pulled out of my recollections, but not by the sight of Jasmine coming outside. Instead, I had been distracted by something far less welcome. High up in the sky was a familiar purple rug. As the magic carpet descended upon the princess's balcony, its rider came into view.

There was no mistaking the young man clad in white and gold.

Prince Ali had finally returned.

A/N:

Well...well...well...

I bet some of you thought I forgot about Prince Ali. I hope you all are ready for what's to come: lots of mysteries and magic to uncover and decisions to be made as well.

I can't say I've got it all figured out yet, but I've been working steadily. I hope to see you again soon!

Until then!