Chapter 48: The Princess

I blame my afternoon with the sultan for affecting my dreams. That night they brought me back to a time before my curse was lifted.

I was sitting at my desk on the upper level of the magician's study. I had just finished my examination of a scroll on the properties of qumabêruh and other magical sands. Different forms of qumabêruh were said to be able to sense, store, nullify, and even actively absorb magic. It was my hope that this substance would enable us to cleanse the enchanted items around the palace without damaging them.

This newest scroll on qumabêruh was the fifth one I had come across this week, but like the last couple I had found, it had no new information for me. Satisfied that my notes were up to date, I put the document aside and picked up the two most comprehensive and useful scrolls in my small collection.

The first one was written in modern Arabic and provided a second-hand account of how the qumabêruh from the Land of Black Sand had been used to defeat the sand witches of the Seven Deserts. The other scroll was much older and written in ancient Kurdish.

I had never learned Kurdish, but I was fluent in its sister languages of Persian and Arabic. So, over the last four nights, with my knowledge of those languages and some other reference scrolls from the palace library, I had done a rough translation. The experience had definitely been worthwhile since the scroll had information on how to transmute qumabêruh into its different forms and each variety's practical applications.

I added my translation of the Kurdish scroll and my other notes to the pile in my arms.

There. I was ready to share my findings with Jasmine.

"Princess," I called out.

"Yes," she replied in a tired voice. "What is it, Ren?"

"I'm coming downstairs. I want to get your opinion on something."

"Alright," she said after a bit. "I'm ready."

I walked down the stairs and went over to her desk. As I placed the research documents on top of it, I informed her that, "The scrolls have been rolled to the appropriate passages and there are additional notes on your right."

The princess peered up at me, or rather she tilted her head up towards the direction of my voice. She was blindfolded as per usual. "You almost sound excited," she noted. "Please, tell me this is good news."

"Possibly," I offered, "It's about a new magic removal method."

"Really?" she said, perking up. "Do we have the ingredients to make it in stock?"

"We do."

"I'll look this over then," she said, her fingers already tapping with anticipation.

"And I'll be upstairs," I said. "Let me know when you're done."

She nodded and I left her to it.

The time I spent waiting for Jasmine to look over my work was a blur. I mostly occupied myself by going through our supply of qumabêruh in a hidden nook on the far side of the study. The unprocessed black sand was stored in palm-sized iron-enforced wooden barrels whereas the more powerful ocean blue crystalized qumabêruh was kept in thick iron-silver tins that were each no bigger than an inkwell.

Because qumabêruh had the potential to be such a powerful anti-magic agent, it was unwise to keep it close to the other magical ingredients and could be downright dangerous in large quantities for magical and nonmagical things alike. I had my reservations about working with such a volatile substance, but after all my research, I was confident it was currently our best chance of setting the court right without having to destroy every heirloom and precious object in the palace.

About an hour later, I was again sitting at my desk, trying to convince myself to do more research when Jasmine came running up the stairs, shrieking, "Ren!"

I stood up, suddenly alert. "What's wrong?" I called back, moving toward the door to the stairwell with my heart hammering in my chest.

Then Jasmine appeared, slamming the door wide open with a bang. I had to leap back to avoid a collision while she proclaimed, "This is perfect!"

Oh. I regained my balance and said, "I'm aware, princess."

For a moment there, I had been worried, but it seems there was no need. Jasmine was quite well, better than well. She stood in the doorway, beaming at me.

"I'm aware, princess," she echoed. "Come on, admit it, Ren. This is wonderful news!"

I allowed myself a small smile. After weeks of going through this study with a grim determination and weeks of stealing and destroying cursed items to undo their enchantments, we finally had a chance at a more sustainable solution. I could not deny it. "It is wonderful news."

"Give me your hands," she demanded, holding her own out.

"Why," I asked, forcing my hands to stay right where they were.

"Because…" she said, blindly reaching forward.

"Princess," I said in warning.

I grabbed her hands before they could make contact with my waist. I intended to release her after I moved her hands back to her sides. However, now that we were touching like this, I was having difficulty letting go. I had this insistent desire to caress the sides of her small perfect hands with my thumbs.

During this moment of weakness, the princess took control. She started moving our arms up and down, saying, "You need to be more excited!"

"I am," I said, repressing a laugh, "though perhaps, not as excited as you are."

"You should be," she proclaimed. "I'm so happy I could dance!" She was already hopping up and down a bit. "It's finally happening!"

I would not say that. "We've barely started," I reminded her. "There might be complications or…"

"Nonsense!" Jasmine said, decisively. "This is it! I can feel it, Ren! We're going to cure every single curse in the court!"

Not every curse.

Last night, I had conducted a few experiments. I now knew that a single grain-sized piece of crystalized qumabêruh could absorb all the magic from an entire jar of Jafar's invisible ink, but a handful of the larger crystals had no effect on my condition besides causing me to feel hollow and disappointed.

Even so, I couldn't not be a little happy. This was quite a breakthrough and it was only the beginning. There might be a solution for me in here somewhere yet, and in the meantime, Jasmine's current high spirits were a good balm.

The princess was alight with joy. She had started spinning us around in circles like we were children. Her smile was dazzling and it felt dangerously right to be doing this. Jasmine had mentioned dancing earlier. I could practically see us doing that in the dining hall after some state dinner. I foolishly hoped that if we ever had the opportunity, the princess would be just as jubilant and carefree as she was now.

The moment was nearly perfect and a part of me wished that it would last forever. However, reason soon caught up to me and I realized that spinning around like this in the small upper study was a perilous venture. Ignoring my own questionable motivations, there was the lab table and its magical concoctions which were a little too close to us for comfort. For the princess's safety, I decided it would be best if we stopped.

"Princess," I said, slowing our speed.

"It's Jasmine," she corrected me without missing a beat.

"Princess Jasmine," I amended, "as fun as this is, we really should not move around like this in here. There are simply too many hazards and you're blindfolded." At this point, I had forced us to a standstill.

"Ren," she said in a low voice that I knew a little too well.

"Yes?"

"You are intolerable!" she declared, flinging one of my hands away.

"My apologies, prin-"

The princess tugged my other arm, jerking me forward and cutting off my sentence. "Come on," she ordered, pulling me towards the exit of the study.

I was not sure if I was more stunned by the change in her mood or by the fact that she knew which way to go. Between her blindfold and all the spinning, I would think it would be quite impossible for her to guess. As we left the study, I asked in a bewildered voice, "Where are we going?"

"Out!" the princess announced.

While she marched us through the palace and into the gardens, I tried apologizing again. "I am truly sorry about stopping your celebration. I would be more than happy to-"

Instead of listening to my offer, Jasmine threw my other hand away the instant we reached the grass and said, "There!"

"Princess," I tried once more.

"It's Jasmine!" she snapped at me. "We've been friends for weeks now. Why won't you call me Jasmine?"

"I do call you Jasmine," I said, startled by this new seemingly unrelated outburst.

"Only sometimes." She said it like an accusation.

"It's a habit," I hedged, wondering how to fix this. I was almost positive Jasmine did not actually want to fight about how often I used her given name, but I was uncertain about what we were arguing about. After all, I'd already tried to make amends for interrupting her antics in the study and she had been disinterested in both attempts.

Jasmine shook her head. "It's not a habit, Ren. It's a choice. You call me princess on purpose. Admit it."

"Alright," I acquiesced. "I do it on purpose." Usually, I liked to use her title, but as she said, sometimes I called her by her given name instead.

The princess nodded, fiercely. "I knew it!"

"Prin-" I caught myself. "Jasmine," I said, "aren't you happy about the qumabêruh?" I wanted to remind her that she had been thrilled less than a quarter-hour ago and that maybe we should go back to that.

"Of course, I'm happy," she said with a ferocity that sounded more aggressive than joyful.

"Then perhaps, we could…"

"Am I just a princess to you?" she demanded suddenly.

"No." The answer was immediate. Its swiftness surprised even me.

"Good," she huffed. "Because I'd like to believe we really are friends."

Of course, we were. Best friends, technically.

"But sometimes," she continued, "I'm not sure."

What?

"Every time you say my title, I wonder if…"

"Don't!" My voice was sharp. Whatever was at the end of her sentence was not good and I did not want to hear it. "Don't think that," I told her, sternly.

"What else am I supposed to think?" she asked. The tone of her voice sliced right through me.

"I…" I wasn't sure. Why were we even doing this? "Give me a moment to consider," I said. I was overwhelmed and still very confused. Was this really about me calling her princess then? I'd been doing that since our first night in the gardens. I knew that sometimes she corrected me, but I thought it was a bit like a game. Apparently, it wasn't a game because here we were.

The princess, Jasmine, glared at me. "You better not be thinking of a good lie."

"Of course not!" I snapped. As if I would be foolish enough to try that when the stakes were this high.

Jasmine gave me a frigid smile.

She had made that false accusation on purpose. For someone who could be so naïve about people, she could also be surprisingly manipulative. I still wanted to know what this whole argument was truly about, but it did not matter right now. I knew Jasmine. Whatever her motives, she hadn't been lying before. Those emotions and her desire for the truth had been real.

At this point, there was no going back. I needed to address this.

I searched for the right words. "You are a princess," I began cautiously, "but it's not just a title to me. It's…like an epithet."

"An epithet?" she repeated.

I nodded. "It's a habit on my part, or a choice," I added when she started to open her mouth, "because calling you just Jasmine all the time would be…" Improper? Wrong? Lacking? "…strange, especially when I look at you and see-"

"A princess," she finished archly.

"The princess of Agrabah, future sultana to the land, and a legend in the making," I said, correcting her. "I am friends with this remarkable person. How can you expect me to forget that?"

"Because it's not important," she said, waving off my statement.

"But it is," I argued.

"No, it isn't," she shot back.

"Jasmine, I didn't become your friend because you like poetry," I pointed out.

She didn't, in fact, like poetry. Jasmine preferred histories, studies, and nonfiction written in straightforward prose while I was partial to epics, poetry, and folktales. This difference did not matter of course. We had plenty of other things in common.

Jasmine's response was flat. "You became my friend because I'm a princess."

Now, I suspected that she was willfully missing the point.

"The princess," I said, correcting her yet again, "the one who cares the most about this kingdom and has the intelligence and dedication to make her passion yield fruit."

"You almost make it sound like a compliment," she muttered.

"It is," I said, resolutely. As her advisor, praising the princess had not been, well, advisable. I had not wanted Jasmine to suspect me of having ulterior motives, so I avoided flattering her. It was a relief to be breaking that convention tonight.

I had met other princesses before, but seeing her now made me realize that despite her faults, Jasmine was the epitome of what I thought a princess should be. She was, in other words, the princess. I wished that more people would look past her beauty and notice how truly extraordinary Jasmine was.

It was a crime that a couple of sincere compliments about her abilities and potential could leave her so confounded.

I watched Jasmine squirm as she tried to process the praise that I had given her. The princess's mouth went through a variety of expressions before she settled on a stern line. She added to the disapproving look by crossing her arms and lifting her chin. Thus, outfitted for battle, she, at last, said, "Well, even if you actually believe that…"

"I do," I affirmed.

She tossed her head at the unexpected interruption. "If you do," she reiterated, "you still shouldn't expect me to call you Advisor or Vizier any time soon. You may be the second-best one I've ever had, but you'll always be Ren to me."

It was a sweet declaration, but my immediate response was not. "What do you mean by second best?" I demanded. Who the hell was first?

Jasmine smirked at me and said primly, "No one can beat out Rajah. He's the first and the best. Sorry, Ren." She did not sound sorry in the least.

"I see," I said. She had probably hoped to aggravate me, but I was perfectly mollified. It felt good to hold both the first and second spot and it felt even better that our argument seemed to be settled well enough that she felt like teasing me again.

I decided to take advantage of this new mood and quipped, "I was worried that you were talking about Jafar."

"Jafar!" Jasmine said, wrinkling her nose. "Allah above, no! If I ever see that lying grasping subpar wizard again, I'll make him apologize to Queen Fulmati of Shehrabad herself."

I grinned. "So, blood-thirsty," I commented without rancor.

"It's a fitting punishment," my princess said, undeterred by the idea of sending the former Grand Vizier to grovel in front of a displeased queen who was rumored to have killed her own mother.

I, too, had no complaints with this scheme, but my shared savagery was mitigated by a lingering question. After some consideration, I asked, "So…is it alright for me to keep calling you princess…occasionally?"

"Yes," Jasmine said with a sigh. Her posture relaxed. "It's okay for you to call me princess if that's what you prefer. Now that I understand your reason for it, I feel better about the whole thing, and us."

Good. "So, no more saying we're not friends?"

She nodded. "No more of that," she agreed.

Thank the gods.

"Although…" she began in a thoughtful tone that spelled mischief. I could feel her trying to examine me through her blindfold. "Now that we're talking about it," she continued slowly, "I wonder if you'd be willing to give me the ability to use your title too, as an epithet. It only seems fair."

I grimaced. She'd asked me for my title before but never this directly. I hated to disappoint her, especially after we just fought, but, "I'm afraid not. I'm sorry." I always was.

"Well," Jasmine said with a wry look, "it was worth a try."

"I'm sorry," I repeated as if that would make it better.

She shook her head. "It's fine."

It wasn't.

Jasmine reached her hands out to me and said in a deliberately upbeat tone, "Give me your hands again, Ren. If you can bear the indignity of it, we're going to be very silly and spin around for a bit in these hazard-free gardens. Okay?"

And with that, she had us both smiling again. The idea of it was too absurd to do anything else.

"I can more than bear it." I took Jasmine's lovely delicate hands in mine. Then I said with as much dignity and pomp as I could muster, "My hands are at your disposal, princess," and so was the rest of me.

Always.

Our night ended shortly after that. A guard spotted us. However, my dreams continued, slowly shifting away from my time as Ren, second-best advisor for Princess Jasmine, to my countless years as Rajah.

Again, I was a tiger lying in the sunshine by the peacock fountain in the palace gardens. Jasmine sat by me musing over being a princess, Aladdin, her father, Ababwa, and more. There had been so many conversations by that fountain over the years. My dreams melded my experiences together into a mix of recollections and new ideas that left me chuffing in contentment as the night wore on.

A/N: Ah yes, it feels good to go back to fluffier times in the beloved magician study, especially after that stressful business with the sultan. And we got to learn how exactly Jasmine and Ren managed to fix the court so quickly.

For those of you who are curious, qumabêruh is derived from the Kurdish words quma bê ruh which roughly translates to soulless sand. In this story, qumabêruh can be harvested from the Land of Black Sand. This is not an arbitrary choice.

I always found it a little weird/convenient that Mozenrath from the TV show had so many anti-magic items. He had anti-magic cuffs, magic sensing crystals, anti-magic glass, and more. He claims he makes them himself, but then in the Dagger Rock episode, we see that the seemingly naturally-occurring greenish-blue Crystal of Ix has the power to absorb magical beings, and in the Black Sand episode, we see that a large amount of black sand can send a person to the strange black sand realm. Finally, I recently found out that black sand is heavy with magnetite a.k.a. Iron(II,III) oxide and when Iron (II) oxide is added to sand, the resulting glass is...greenish-blue. Thus, my headcanon about Mozenrath using black sand and sandglass to make his anti-magic items was born.

As a side note, I never realize how much more put together Mozenrath is compared to Jafar. It supports my idea that despite his intimidating appearance, Canon Jafar is not a very good wizard, but enough about wizards and sand, you came here for princesses and tiger men.

Next time, I will publish the last chapter of Ren Month where we will finally get to check in on the epitome of princesshood herself (according to one smitten prince at least).

See you then!

P/S A/N: So...January's over and there's no new chapter...I could blame my trip to the hospital, trying to move and change jobs, or dealing with illnesses in the family, but really I'm just stuck.

Again.

I think I need to work on something else for a bit and to come back later, so I'm going to do that.

My deepest apologies.

See you when I see you...