A/N: Sorry that it's been a while, I actually had this one sitting technically finished apart from some last minute editing for a good minute, but my life has been going through a lot of changes lately so I've been more or less dealing with that for the time being. Especially since I realized part of the way through writing this chapter that I was messing with the string of events in the plot itself, though it ended up working out decently well I think. You'll have to let me know if I'm right in the reviews.
As always, the characters of Aladdin and Cuphead are not mine, I'm just playing around with them for a bit. Hope you all are doing alright, or if you're not, hope things get better for you soon! Enjoy!
Chapter 2: In Trouble
The palace had been in an uproar at the arrival of Prince Achmed from Mumila'ard. While no one had thought that finding a suitor, and a future Sultan, for Agrabah would be an easy task, this was the sixth suitor to arrive on a personal visit to the palace.
And right now, it looked as though he'd be another ex-suitor.
The more sharp-eyed, knowledgeable of the palace staff had the inkling that things wouldn't go well, partially because during the banquet for the prince's arrival Jasmine and Achmed had spoken all of once and not again for the rest of the night. The princess was just too good at dodging people that she didn't want to speak to, a skill she'd honed well given the last five princes that had tried to catch her eye.
Now, while this could have been seen as jitters or just general standoffishness, understandable given the previous five suitors, Achmed had gotten some spirits in him later in the night and began voicing his opinions about 'impertinent peasantry' and 'filthy urchins'. While he did have his supporters in the nobility of Agrabah, a discerning eye would have noticed that the Princess was not one of the people hanging on his every word. If anything, she had been across the room, passing him increasingly disbelieving looks.
And then Achmed requested an audience from Jasmine the following day. The princess's attendants had watched him head out to the garden, though the only one that knew what exactly had transpired was Dalia. The fact that the prince had requested an audience was met with equal hope and worry from the Sultan, who had been nervous enough to linger near the entrance to the gardens.
It gave him a front-row seat when Prince Achmed burst out, gesturing angrily as he spoke.
"I have never been so INSULTED!"
The portly ruler found his hopes for a potential marriage dashed at the words, but he still tried to salvage the situation as best he could.
"Prince Achmed, please don't shout, what—?"
But the slighted prince did not stop, nor did he offer much of an explanation. There was one clue on his person though, a sizeable rip in the back of his pants that he seemed to have given up effort on hiding. He did offer the Sultan a few words, namely of the more scorned and irritable variety, as he went for his chambers.
"Good luck marrying her off!"
Though the Sultan had no idea just what had happened, things were starting to become clearer in short order. Starting with the mention of a certain 'her'. And, seeing as he knew full well who Prince Achmed had been having an audience with, that led him out into the garden, calling his daughter's name.
"Jasmine?"
The figure in bright blue seated on the edge of the fountain immediately got his attention, Jasmine having turned away to speak to Dalia though as the Sultan approached she began to look to her father. Granted, what neither of them expected was the sudden interposing of Rajah, the tiger having a few distinct scraps of fabric in his mouth. While the Sultan had initially jolted, the sight of the cloth reignited his anger.
"Oh, confound it, Rajah!"
He grabbed at the scraps, though Rajah easily kept ahold of the majority of his prize. Still, the Sultan hardly needed to reclaim the scraps of the Prince's pants to be upset about their presence in the first place.
"So, this is why Prince Achmed stormed out!"
Though for all of the riled emotion in her father's voice, Princess Jasmine hardly had more than a calm, casual air as Rajah easily relinquished the remainder of the fabric to her.
"Oh, Father, Rajah was just playing with him!" The scraps were tossed aside as the princess lavished affection on the tiger, some scratches and a hug a well-deserved reward for sending the haughty prince to retreat. "Weren't you, you were just playing with that over-dressed, self-absorbed Prince Achmed, weren't you?"
Of course, while the words got a happy rumble from Rajah, and a hidden smile from the still present Dalia, the Sultan looked far less amused. Seeing the severe frown on her father's face, Jasmine cut her mirth off with a cough, hastily averting her eyes. Prince Achmed's behavior aside, it wasn't exactly a mature nor properly royal thing to take out the seat of his pants via a tiger.
"Dearest," The Sultan groaned with the air of someone who has had this conversation many, many times before. "You have got to stop rejecting every suitor who comes to call! The law says—"
"—You must be married to a prince." Jasmine's words also had the tired repetition of someone who had heard them far too many times, to the point where they'd begun to abhor them, but the Sultan finished the sentence anyway, even following his daughter as she got up from the fountain to go to the large bird cage just behind Dalia.
"By your next birthday!"
Already knowing what the Princess wanted, her attendant was opening the door, allowing Jasmine to gently take out one of the pigeons inside. These had been her mother's pride and joy, the sight of them enough to bring a smile to the Princess's face even as she tried to argue her point.
"The law is wrong."
"You've only got five more days!" The Sultan pressed, urgency coloring his words as he gestured emphatically.
"Father, I hate being forced into this." The princess came back, momentarily turning away from the bird she was holding. "If I do marry, I want it to be for love."
For all of the Sultan's worrying, the sincerity of his daughter's words teased some heartfelt honesty from him as well.
"Jasmine, it's, it's not only this law." His words were punctuated as he carefully took the bird from her hands, returning it to the cage and closing the door as he continued. "…I'm not going to be around forever, and I just want to make sure you're taken care of. Provided for."
But his movements had caused a similar sort of image to play out in Jasmine's mind, but with herself substituted for the caged birds. And, though her father's intentions were ultimately good, she did not want to see herself placed in what felt like an even more confining predicament. So, even as she tried to pull away, striding back towards the fountain, she continued her push for her independence with an appeal to reason.
"Please, try to understand. I have never done a thing on my own. I've never even set foot outside of the palace! I know nothing about the world beyond the walls!"
All good points, in her opinion. But her father's reply, though well-meaning, just frustrated her even more.
"But, Jasmine, you're a princess!" It was a mantra that the aforementioned princess had heard a lot of in her younger years, and now it was beginning to grow rather stale in terms of a justification. Her temper finally snapping, Jasmine raked her hand over the water with a loud splash, distorting her own royal reflection from view.
"Well, maybe I don't want to be a princess anymore!" She turned away from her father, more than done with the seemingly pointless conversation by that point, and it seemed like he felt very much the same given his own burst of frustrated exclamation before he finally came out with his own rebuke.
"Allah forbid you should have any daughters!"
The Sultan then left. Dalia stood in the aftermath of the argument for a moment before she tried to approach the still-simmering Jasmine. Taking a seat next to the princess, she let the silence hang before speaking.
"I know you don't want to hear it, but his reasoning isn't exactly flawed. I mean, at least he's not throwing you at the first prospective husband. He really does care for you."
Jasmine's stubborn demeanor held for a moment before she sagged a little, expression growing slightly forlorn.
"…I know, though I at least wish he would listen to me."
"I think most would want that." Dalia pointed out, though there was still one more thing that perhaps ought to have been said. "Though, let's be honest, has there been a single thing about any of them that you've liked?"
"I liked when they left," Jasmine replied, the frank tone briefly making Dalia snort before she caught herself. Though, at her handmaiden's cough, Jasmine gave the matter a bit more thought. "…I don't know. It feels like I'm seeing the problems long before I see anything good."
"Well, alright…" Dalia started, before a flurry at the entrance to the garden got their attention. The somewhat plainer colored clothes hinted at the stations of the newcomers long before they properly approached, though Jasmine couldn't help a faint smile, as she did know the pair of women that were rapidly approaching her and Dalia.
A princess had to have more than one attendant, after all, and while they didn't always see eye to eye, Jasmine would rather that some people were on her side in this rather than none.
"So, Prince Achmed?" The younger of the two, Firuza, spoke up, earning a light slap from her older compatriot.
"On his way out, courtesy of Rajah. He really ought to have been more careful." Jasmine's words got a mix of light exasperation and fonder eyerolling, though the last of the trio, an older woman named Ruya, broke the silence first with a despairing clucking of the tongue.
"Such an uncouth man. Princes at least had some decorum when I was a girl…"
"That first one, Prince Kaspian. He wasn't so bad." Firuza pointed out, only for Jasmine to scoff.
"He barely let me get a word in edgewise."
"What about Haroud?" Dalia mentioned, she'd thought that one had been alright…
"A little too interested in what would be happening after we got married. Particularly the wedding night. Had a difficult time being told 'no' or 'wait'." Jasmine reported with a frown.
"And I can't believe that the kingdom of Deroud sent both of their sons!"
All had to wince at that one, it had been a right disaster given that the pair had immediately tried to outdo each other to win Jasmine's favor. One ruined feast, a smattering of frustrated palace staff, along with a completely done princess, and they'd quietly went back to their kingdom with as much dignity as they could muster.
And now No. 6, Achmed from Mumila'ard, had also left in near disgrace.
"I just wish I could have more time…" Jasmine said in exasperation, throwing up her hands. "There's so much more I could see, be doing! This just doesn't feel right!"
"Well, sometimes the right thing won't come at the right time." Ruya pointed out, resting a somewhat wizened hand on Jasmine's shoulder.
"Or sometimes we don't think the time we're in is the right time." Firuza spoke up, exchanging significant glances with Dalia.
"Maybe I could go out to see them!" Though the princess certainly had the fire to do so, Ruya quickly did her best to strike the notion down.
"Your father would never allow it, Jasmine, you know that."
"It would be much better than sitting here and waiting for things to come to me…" Even though it was said through a grumble, the words definitely struck a chord with Dalia and Firuza, who knew just how starved for information their princess truly was. Every time they went out, they were greeted by more questions than they could possible answer.
"I don't think getting a change in scenery would be an awful idea…" Dalia finally spoke up, only for Ruya to chime in again.
"It won't be allowed this close to her birthday!"
"Five more days, all we'd really need is one day." Firuza's words were sound, though Ruya had an answer for that too.
"To do what? Gallivant around the countryside?"
"But Ruya, I've only ever seen what's inside these walls! I know there's more out there! Please, just one day!" Jasmine pleaded, knowing that the older woman was the one she'd have to advocate to. Ruya had allowed her to study sword-fighting, brought her down to the library whenever she asked, even played games of strategy with the princess. The only thing Jasmine really had to do was have a plan.
"One of us could go with her, we leave to get things from the market all the time…" Dalia suggested, and though it was a soundish proposal, there was still one more rub, this time from Firuza.
"And what would we tell the Sultan?"
Jasmine, sensing that her chance was about to slip away, quickly spoke up.
"You don't have to tell my father anything! It's just like Dalia said, it would just be for one day…"
Ruya's only answer to that was a scoff, though before Jasmine could look away the older woman gave her arm a light tug, signaling that if they were going to continue this conversation it would probably be best that they did it somewhere a little more secluded. Even though the direction things had been going thus far hadn't been exactly to her liking, Jasmine still had hope.
The next few hours proved to be quite fruitful indeed.
At the same time, the Sultan had retired to his private chambers, striding amongst a collection of shelves littered with clockwork creations and models. Despite his harsh words, he had nothing but a paternal heaviness in his heart for his daughter. There was a part of him that couldn't help ruminating on what could have been done better, perhaps if he'd tried to foster relations between his daughter and the prince of another kingdom in her youth, but it was hard to know how someone would grow up. A perfectly sweet child could turn into a tyrannical adult, easily enough, and he'd not wanted to subject his only daughter to such a monstrous fate.
But the Sultan's summons to the other kingdoms hadn't been answered as quickly as he would have liked, and now they were running out of time. How on earth had they somehow left things off until the last five days?!
The older man's thoughts were echoed in a despondent sigh, though he couldn't help ruminating on the fact that it wasn't a problem entirely created by himself. Though he understood why suitors four and five didn't work out, the first three had seemed like perfectly fine gentlemen to him. Achmed seemed alright as well, apart from his stronger personality, but traits like those often seemed to fade with youth.
Jasmine simply couldn't see the bigger picture on that, and now they were running out of time…
"Ah, I don't know where she gets it from, her mother wasn't nearly so picky…" In fact, to the Sultan's memory, he and the late Sultana had been close right from the get-go. They'd just…clicked. If only Jasmine had someone to bond with in a similar way…
The Sultan was so lost in thought that he missed a looming shadow entering his chambers, not realizing that he'd been joined by another until that person was right next to him. Given that the other's approach had been so quiet, the sudden realization that someone was indeed there briefly caught the Sultan off-guard.
"Oh! Jafar," he said, surprise melting into relief. "My most trusted councilor. I am in desperate need of your wisdom"
Jafar's black and red stood stark when compared to the Sultan's lighter colors, his taller frame only accenting the contrast. The equally red parrot sat on his shoulder, beady eyes gazing at the Sultan with a stare that mirrored Jafar's. Despite his overall enigmatic, bordering on menacing, presence, Jafar's voice oozed a conciliatory honey as he replied.
"My life is but to serve you, my lord."
His words were finished with a bow, the Sultan quickly getting to what he felt was the meat of the problem.
"It's this suitor business, Jasmine is refusing to choose a husband, and I'm at my wit's end."
As the Sultan approached, gesturing emphatically in the manner only a perturbed parent could, the vizier's red parrot briefly stepped forward echoing the ruler's words with a discordant squawk.
Though much to the parrot's dismay this only got the Sultan's attention, the cheerful ruler chuckling at the mimicry and quickly proffering a cracker. Even though the bird did try to lean away, the Sultan pushed the cracker forward, straight into the poor parrot's beak. Jafar, unheeding of the discomfort, merely gave a token laugh as he threw out a remark.
"Your majesty certainly has a way with dumb animals…"
The words immediately got Iago's ire, the parrot glaring even as he fought not to spit out the cracker that had been so roughly shoved into his mouth. But, given that they were in the company of the Sultan of Agrabah, the exchange didn't go any further beyond that. If anything, the remark had been more to buy Jafar time as he tried to think of where to go with this, and perhaps how he could use it to his own advantage. In the brief moment that the Sultan was more charmed by his words, the vizier briefly mulled over his current situation.
While he had no idea how to solve the 'problem' with the princess, Jafar had happened to notice that the Sultan was in possession of a certain diamond, one that would be instrumental in his own plans. The question was, how could he get such a bauble away from the ruler of Agrabah? While the vizier had risen to where he was on no small amount of guile, his not-inconsiderable trove of magic tricks was just as important. Even if these were rather limited, hence his interest in a certain lamp…
"Perhaps I can divine a solution to this…thorny problem." Jafar started, easing into the conversation ahead. The Sultan, more than happy to hear of a potential answer, quickly leapt on his vizier's words.
"If anyone can help it's you."
"But, for the best results, it would require the use of the…Mystic Blue Diamond…" That being the ring that the old ruler wore on his finger, Jafar even helpfully indicating it as he spoke.
"My ring?" The Sultan started, scandalized at the proposal. "It's a symbol of our family, I cannot just give it away. What exactly will the ring accomplish?"
"I can try to concoct a divination. If we have truly exhausted all other options, then perhaps we should turn to the…less conventional." Though such help had been allowed in the past, now the Sultan appeared more reluctant to take the offer.
"Perhaps, but I should not like to taint an already difficult situation with the darker arts…"
"Ah, of course. Forget that I asked." The last few words had a certain reverb to them, Iago turning away from Jafar and his snake staff while keeping up his goggle-eyed disguise. The Sultan though had no such warning, and his eyes began to glow a bloody red as the subtler spell took effect.
"You asked…asked what?" His words were dazed, though the confusion slipped after a moment and he slipped back into a cheery, if still somewhat bemused demeanor. "I apologize, Jafar, this must be weighing rather heavily on my mind, what did you say?"
"It is perfectly alright. I will consult what records I can. Surely there is a similar case that we can work from."
"Thank you, I feel much better knowing you are on the case!" The Sultan's words caused a more humored edge to come to Jafar's smile, though the old man read it as obliging.
"Of course, of course. I will leave you to your, study."
The Sultan politely nodded, a smile on his face as Jafar excused himself. The vizier's back hid his more disgusted, exasperated expression from the elderly man's view. As far as he was concerned, tinkering with what basically amounted to toys was hardly worth the time of a ruler. At least, not one that wanted to be taken seriously. But then again, the Sultan had already had his day in the sun, from Jafar's estimate. Agrabah was more than ready for some new blood on the throne. One that wouldn't be hamstrung by fancy trinkets, or their stubborn adherence to doing the right thing. In Jafar's opinion, doing the right thing was for people that were secure enough to put on airs. For everyone else, the world was much blunter in how it operated. He, if anything, went without illusions regarding that.
The brief quiet as he stepped out was interrupted not five minutes after he made it over the threshold of his own chambers when Iago's temper finally blew, the parrot spitting out the dregs of a cracker as he started to rant.
"I can't take it anymore! If I gotta choke down on one more of those moldy, disgusting crackers—!"
"Calm yourself, Iago." Jafar barked, though the parrot didn't pay the words much heed as he raged on, swinging wildly to pantomime just what he'd like to do to the elderly ruler. Not that Jafar was a stranger to Iago's temper, mostly letting it blow itself out as he went through a secret door in the back of the main room, and up a spiral staircase lit sparingly by torches.
"BAM, WHACK! An' another hit I'll give him, WHACK, WHACK!"
"Soon, I will be Sultan, not that addle-pated twit!" Jafar broke in with vehemence as he came upon the true gem of his living space, a simple wooden door leading into his personal trove of magical research, and the fruits he had gained from it. A lot of odds and ends, some things that might have been a little more useful. Most of these the Sultan was unaware of, the ruler preferring the more benign and moderately helpful brands of enchantment to the darker arts that Jafar dabbled in. But nothing the vizier had came with the same firepower that he was currently seeking.
"And then, I stuff the crackers down his throat!" Iago replied, cackling as Jafar let the door swing closed behind him, the pair heading to a workbench that was covered with a few aged scrolls, the image of a familiar scarab present on one. Another lay open, discussing the different forms of jinn, their capabilities and how one could bend them to their will.
And, well, while he technically already had a jinni, the one in the Cave of Wonders was no dime-a-dozen find. A marid jinni was something truly rare, and came with its own formidable stores of magic to draw on, and manipulate to do its masters bidding. The scroll in particular warned of their capricious, trickster nature, and while Jafar had been successful in managing the ifrit, he wasn't about to get complacent.
"If everything works out in our favor, we'll be able to do a lot more than that." Jafar's lower tones snapped Iago out of his angrier line of thought, the parrot giving the vizier as well as the scrolls on the table in front of them a considering look. Internally, the bird went over all they'd spoken about, though he couldn't help noticing that there was one major flaw with the idea of them moving ahead.
"Thought you were sayin' that we needed the ring. And, if the Sultan's not gonna give it to you…"
"Then perhaps we will have to send our own agent to act." Jafar punctuated his words with a considering glance to the ruby ring on his hand, the pair grinning in tandem.
It was long after dusk that Jasmine enacted the first part of the plan she'd cooked up between herself and her attendants, listening carefully to the sounds outside of her chambers. Prince Achmed had set off earlier, the guard detail would be a little more lax as the lack of a guest meant more of a return to normalcy. And, hopefully, no one would try to call on her tomorrow. There was a certain risk that someone would, but given that it would take a while for a new suitor to be dredged up, Jasmine felt like the chances of anyone trying to get in an audience with the princess would be very slim.
There was no better time for it, plainly speaking, and Jasmine intended to make the time she had count.
The first part of the plan went off without a hitch, she'd correctly timed the guard circuit enough to slip out the door, doing her best to hurry through the darkened hallways to the palace gardens. If she could make it there, and over the wall, the servant's quarters would be right there, with Dalia waiting.
Though her good luck only went so far. As Jasmine went through a juncture in the palace halls, she was nearly blindsided by a much bigger shape that came hurtling from the other hallway. The pair almost collided, reeling away from each other in the semi-darkness as they tried to regather their bearings. Right away Jasmine knew this was likely a servant; despite his towering frame he was dressed plainly, wearing just a faded green vest, brown pants, and a simple turban. He did have what looked like a pair of manacles on his wrists, but it was the only bit of finery about him.
However, much to the princess's dismay the man had turned to look at her, dark eyes questioning as he seemed to try to place her. But before he could do so Jasmine felt some…snap in the air, like a whip crack but somehow without the sound. It seemed to be something the man could feel, given how he jolted with a breath of air hissing through his teeth.
Despite the fact that it would have been a perfect opportunity to run, the princess could not help speaking up.
"…I'm sorry, are you alright?"
"Y-Yes, yes, fine. I have to go," the man replied, certainly sounding like there had been some physicalness to the earlier sensation. But before Jasmine could do more than register it, and maybe take in a few rudimentary details about his appearance, the man stole off into the dark, his footsteps quickly fading away.
It left Jasmine standing there a bit dumbly, though she quickly admonished herself with the notion that she hardly ought to look a gift horse in the mouth. If anything, it was good fortune that she happened to run into the one person that seemed to have more urgent business than dealing with her. Even still, the strangeness of the encounter played out in her mind as she reached the gardens. Had that been someone's personal slave? She'd never seen him around the palace, or at the very least she was sure she hadn't interacted with him regularly.
And, if he was a personal slave, what was he doing running through the palace in the middle of the night? And near hers and her father's bedchambers?
It was a thought that had Jasmine pausing, familial love holding her in place as she considered her options. He had been quiet, and while in a hurry he hadn't been so secretive that he couldn't spare a few words for her. It also hadn't looked like he could have concealed any sort of weapons on his person.
There also were other venues he could have been coming from, even if most of the servants avoided this wing at night. But, if he was new, then he might not know to do that.
Granted, Jasmine knew she would only get so far ruminating, and she definitely had more pressing things to focus on. Like scaling the wall to slip out of the palace.
But as she passed the menagerie another distraction presented itself in the form of Rajah, the tiger moving from his post to follow Jasmine. Though, for the moment, the princess's beloved pet simply tailed her through the garden. It was only when she moved to climb a tree close to the wall that Rajah acted, slipping close and grabbing the hem of her robe in his teeth.
Ordinarily this might've been a cause for concern, but Jasmine could see the worry in the tiger's eyes and stepped back down from her perch. Immediately Rajah let go, though the feline's eyes still had that troubled shade. It was a look that Jasmine met with equal parts guilt and sympathy, even as she spoke.
"I'm sorry, Rajah. But I cannot stay and have my life just happen around me. I need to go. I need to see what's out there." Even though many people would have said that Rajah was just a tiger and would have no idea of what she was saying, Jasmine knew her beloved friend far better than anyone else. But, even though she'd made up her mind, that didn't make the idea of leaving him any less hard. It was a mutual feeling, given that Rajah leaned his head into her arms with an eager sort of sadness.
"I'll miss you. Promise I'll come back."
The moment was short, but reluctantly broken, the tiger helping Jasmine reach up to the tree she had been attempting to climb with his own not-inconsiderable length. From there she was able to reach the top of the guard wall, looking briefly back at her beloved pet with a sorrowful farewell before disappearing off into the night.
Meanwhile, the aforementioned slave hurried up the stairs, changing to reddish smoke as he jetted the last bit of the way. Ordinarily he was under strict orders not to use magic where he could be seen, but he knew he was alone, and his master's current orders felt like an angry wildfire scorching through him. Being an ifrit jinni, fire didn't hurt him, the hot environment of the desert hardly bothered him, but this binding spell made him know what it was like to burn alive.
And it was always worse if he tried to delay, even inadvertently like that encounter in the hall.
Always do what your master says, come/hurry back, always do what the master says…
Relief finally came when he'd come into his master's private 'study', the ifrit condensing into his red-skinned form, fighting through a wheeze and weak-kneed as he held out what he'd been sent to get. With barely a wrinkle of concern, Jafar snatched the item away, that being the Sultan's Blue Diamond Ring. Though the ifrit tried to stay composed, he knew it was somewhat ruined by the tired slump in his shoulders, and the fact that he definitely needed a moment to get his air back. He'd had worse encounters with the binding spell, or other 'admonishments' that masters liked to employ, but that didn't mean it was an easy experience…
It also didn't help that he'd been more or less relegated to a messenger boy ever since Jafar found his ring, especially when it became clear that the Cave of Wonders was protected by such powerful magics that a supernatural entity couldn't just divine the location. Admittedly, the ifrit had gotten the general area right just from guesswork and study, but that wasn't good enough for his current master.
Not that anything ever was good enough, the reddish jinni trying to curb his exhaustion as he fought a flinch, feeling his master's eyes boring into him. Quite plainly, sometimes it was a matter of just waiting for the other shoe to completely drop.
"Stand over there until I need you," Jafar finally said, the ifrit trying not to show too much relief as he went to be near the wall. It would have felt better to sit, but his master had said to stand. And, if he listened, then he'd just go back to the ring and rest then. If he could just hold out a little longer, he'd be alright.
Though a part of the ifrit couldn't help being on edge, as while he'd known what he had to get his master hadn't exactly told him why. And judging by the arrangements around the room, it wasn't anything particularly enjoyable. He was seeing plenty of candles, a small sort of altar carved with designs… Looked for all intents and purposes to be a summoning, but somehow the ifrit had the feeling it wasn't going to be a benign one.
And chances are, he'd be the back-up in case this went wrong…
So, even if he was tired, still smarting from the earlier punishment, and more than ready to call it a day, he stood at the ready as Jafar got all of the parts of this ritual together. The presence of a rather large, ornate hourglass was confusing at first, as if the ifrit was remembering things properly, the Oracle of the Sands needed a charge of some sort to work.
The power stored within the diamond would be perfect for that. Though it might work a little too well, the energy amping up the caged spirit to more dangerously over-excited levels. Supposedly the Oracle of the Sands used to be a wind elemental, and they could be incredibly unpredictable even on their better days…
Not that Jafar would listen to that, the ifrit wincing a little at the sorcerer placing Iago into the apparatus he'd built around the hourglass. That was another thing he would have found incredibly ill-advised, better to wait for an actual storm, but, again, Jafar definitely wasn't going to listen to him, and not about how attempting to force the right conditions in a summoning tended to make it harder to control.
As far as Jafar was concerned, that was what the ifrit was there for, not that the ifrit himself felt very sure of his ability to wrangle an oracle spirit when he was already fairly exhausted.
But he'd have to, so he would. Always do what your master says.
It didn't exactly help Iago much in the moment though, the parrot growing winded from just a few minutes in Jafar's little apparatus. The Oracle of Sands basically needed two, well, technically three things to properly work. One was the charge of a storm, the other was the appropriate offerings.
It wouldn't necessarily take the ring, but it would take whatever remnant of magic was in the ring. The ifrit wasn't sure if that was the appropriate way to use an old heirloom, but, again, he wasn't being asked his opinion.
"With all due respect, your Rottenness," Iago gasped out as he tried to run fast enough to power the apparatus Jafar was using. All things considered, it was ingenious in its own way, the ifrit having to admit that at least as he looked over the wooden gears leading up into the metallic rings that were suspended above the Oracle of Sands' hourglass. The parrot's running would make the gears turn, which created electricity and stirred up a breeze that would turn into a… "…Couldn't we just wait for a real storm?"
Well, he said it, not me, the ifrit couldn't help thinking, even as he knew that Jafar likely wasn't going to listen to Iago either. He was already placing the Blue Diamond ring into a spot on the hourglass, the small bit of glimmering blue magic easily flowing from the gem to the amber-wrought metal.
"Save your breath, Iago! Faster!" The sorcerer urged, stepping back into a protective circle as the artificial storm began to reach a new pitch. Even though there was a part of the ifrit that couldn't help marveling at the design, especially since it was definitely doing what it was meant to do, he didn't feel the least bit like this would be safe for anyone outside of that circle Jafar was currently standing in. And, with his master's order in effect, he couldn't exactly move back to a safer distance.
So, for the moment, the ifrit was just left to stare as the metal of the hourglass glowed like the desert sands at sunset. The earlier glimmers of magic had completely vacated the blue diamond, and the crackles of lightning from the artificial storm were starting to reach the hourglass. The glow was taking on a wilder fever-pitch, the ifrit straining a little to keep his eyes open as a rush of warm air pushed out from the hourglass, causing him to blink against the feeling of sand in his face.
Well, he'd been wondering when the Oracle of the Sands was going to wake up. Though at the rush of wind, and the growing feeling of another presence in the room, Jafar spoke in a tone that hummed with greed.
"O Oracle of the Sands of Time, reveal to me the one who can enter the Cave."
And, even though there was no direct verbal response, the vizier's request had definitely been heard. The wind seemed to take on the feel of a live thing, swirling into a cloud of sand that joined into the artificial clouds stirred up by Jafar's apparatus.
And, in true form for an Oracle, an image was starting to appear in the cloud, billowing and warping before condensing down into something recognizable. It was a building on the far side of the city, where most of the structures were tumbling down. In one of the larger buildings, there was what looked like a hole that had encompassed most of the wall. Looking out was a youth of maybe sixteen or seventeen. Despite the unkept hair and simple clothes, his eyes were bright and keen as they surveyed the slumbering city, going from the slums surrounding his ramshackle home to the brighter, more ornate domes of Agrabah's elite.
At the full realization of the scene, a booming voice spoke from all around, seeming to thrum with the same power as the storm.
THE ONE YOU SEEK IS CALLED ALADDIN
And, well, let it never be said that the Oracle didn't know when to make an exit, as with its question answered the mirage practically burst apart into a windstorm that somehow did not damage the stone walls of the room. But it did break apart the apparatus, knocking Iago away and pushing out in a brief but destructive radius.
Immediately the ifrit lifted his arms, golden magic wreathing itself over his limbs in an effort at a shield. Though, given how tired he already was the wind easily shattered the flimsy defense, searing itself into his hands and arms. Somehow he was able to choke back a cry, stumbling into the wall as the veritable typhoon faded away.
At the center of the fading windstorm was Jafar, the sorcerer's eyes gleaming as he thought over what he'd learned. A triumphant smile edged his face, mirroring the faint chuckle in his voice as he spoke.
"And he's right in the city. Good, good. Let's have the guards extend an invitation to the palace, shall we?"
"Swell…" Iago gasped out as he slid down to rest on the floor, opting to stay there until the room stopped spinning. Jafar hardly paid that much mind, his smile dimming as he looked to the ifrit still partially folded against the wall, barely minding the order to keep standing.
"…Did you see the Diamond in the Rough, slave?"
"Yes, master." And, well, that wasn't a lie, per say. He did get a look, not enough to really see the boy's face, but the ifrit now had a general idea of what the Diamond in the Rough looked like…
"Good, because if the guards cannot deliver, then you will be bringing him to the palace. It shouldn't be too difficult to think of a way." Jafar punctuated his words with a firm hand grabbing the jinni's chin, forcing the slave to make eye contact even as he attempted to shrink away.
The ifrit couldn't completely hide a wince, both at the idea and the manhandling, part of him fervently hoping the guards did come though, if only so he wouldn't be the one dragging some poor soul in to essentially serve this cruel man. Even still, he spoke the words he knew the sorcerer wanted to hear.
"Yes, master."
"…You are dismissed." Came Jafar's reply, the ifrit trying not to slump too much as he was swept back into his ring.
That morning saw the markets of Agrabah in the same sort of hustle that they tended to have when the temperature hadn't quite risen. The different merchants were definitely doing their part to draw in business, calling out to passersby regarding their wares and how necessary each of them were for daily life. However, for some of the frequenters of the market, the merchants' attentions were the opposite of what they wanted. There were definitely a few less-moneyed, younger members of Agrabah's population darting around here and there, looking to ek out some meal of their own.
Albeit, while most of them were looking to avoid the attention of the merchants altogether, the savvier and defter of the group were trying a somewhat different method. A familiar pair, Kassim's faded burgundy red clothing and Babkak's equally worn darker green, could be seen moving through the crowd further up on the market street. They were theatrical about it, being genial and friendly as they bobbed and weaved through the crowd, and relieving a few people of a bit of their recently bought food. Among other things, but nothing that would create a big enough disturbance. A gold bangle here, a ring or two that could be easily sold later.
Omar was a little more subtle, the younger street rat able to briefly stow his nerves as he slipped through the crowd and managed to relieve a few stalls of some bits of food. Quick and easy, getting in and out without causing a fuss.
But Aladdin and Abu, they had their own way to approach the problem. Aladdin had already been scoping out the different stalls, looking for one that would best hold up to the trick he was about to pull. One of the fruit stalls was the current target of his plan, the street rat glancing around and listening to the pitched calls of the merchant as he tried to wheedle a sale out of passersby. He'd had a few come through with some purchases, and was growing more grandiose in his efforts to sell.
Aladdin gestured to Abu, the monkey saluting and slipping over the edge of the roof, coming up on the opposite side that the merchant was facing as he called out.
"Try this, your taste buds will dance and sing!"
And, well, Abu certainly looked to take the merchant up on that, hanging by his tail as he grabbed one of the melons. His chattering got the man's attention, his exuberance turning to indignation as he realized that the monkey was trying to steal from him.
"Hey, get your paws off of that!"
Not that Abu was the least bit repentant, the monkey babbling an approximation of the merchant's own words back at him. Much to the man's dismay.
"Why you…!" Immediately the merchant lunged for the monkey and melon, managing to get the fruit but Abu's grip definitely wasn't one to sneeze at. Though, despite the frustration and shouting on the merchant's behalf, Abu's real goal was keeping the man's eyes on him, allowing Aladdin to slip in and grab one of the other melons.
Once the street rat had his prize, Abu relinquished his melon, letting the merchant take it. It wasn't until the monkey had retreated that the merchant went to set the melon down, and had to do some quick calculating at the number of melons at the front of the stall. However, there wasn't much he could do about it now, and he'd hardly had any idea of what had truly happened. The thieves in question were long gone.
And as for those thieves in question, they were both enjoying their spoils, tucked away as they were up on a nearby low roof. Abu skittered up to Aladdin, chattering happily as he saw the street rat break apart the melon they'd just stolen.
"Nice going, Abu!" He said, handling the monkey half of the spoils. "Breakfast is served!"
The pair tucked into their meal, Babkak, Omar, and Kassim also disappeared from the crowds below, having gotten their own spoils.
And at the far end of the market, a pair of royal attendants from the palace began to pick through the wares. It wasn't unheard of to have them visit, so no one paid them any mind, treating them the same as any other denizen of Agrabah. Some might have even recognized one, that being Dalia, who scanned through the wares with the practiced air of someone that knew what they were looking for. The other attendant was not a regular, though this was in and of itself not the most noteworthy thing. Though the current Sultan was fairly good with keeping his staff, that didn't mean there wasn't room for some turnover.
The new girl definitely had all of the hallmarks of a more doe-eyed, green-around-the-gills type, openly staring at every stall she passed. Her interest was immediately noted by the different merchants, a spice merchant, a jeweler, and a fish monger trying their luck with no success. Dalia simply grabbed her friend's hand and pulled her along. The fish monger had definitely made the biggest impression though, the suddenness of his shout and the volume causing the newer "attendant" to jump, her hood dropping enough to expose her features fully. Perhaps if someone were a little more familiar with the inner workings of the palace, they might've recognized the princess's face. But, seeing as it had been years since anyone had seen the youngest member of the royal family, no one noticed.
Well, no one except for Dalia, though given that she was party to the princess's escapade, the only thing she did was grab Jasmine's hand to pull her along.
"Princess, you need to be more careful." She admonished, though even in an undertone the mention of the title made Jasmine look scandalized. "I'm sorry, Jasmine, you need to be more careful. You can't just walk around here looking like you might be lost. Generally speaking, you're better off if you look like you have a purpose."
"But my purpose is to see what's out here." Jasmine pointed out, like it was the simplest thing in the world. Even still, she rearranged her head scarf, making sure her features were suitably obscured. Dalia did have a point though; it wouldn't do to get distracted here. Even still, her attendant could admit that there was something to the princess's words; while Dalia's reason to be out here was for shopping, Jasmine's "purpose" had more to do with sight-seeing. While they couldn't exactly arrange for a caravan to show the princess the far-reaching corners of the world that she'd read about in the palace library, they could certainly show her the marketplace. The market certainly contained its own conglomerate of cultures and tongues, it would be more than enough for a princess that had been kept cloistered in the palace.
Or at the very least, that was the feeling. But Jasmine was definitely chomping at the bit to do some exploring of her own, without a guide to keep her in line. While the glimpse she had gotten was more than exhilarating, Dalia's straightforward, no-deviations route quickly turned the trip into a constrained humdrum. It was an especially frustrating experience, given that to Jasmine's eyes she was moments, mere inches away from so many wonders, and it was being dangled before her like a tantalizing lure. One that she was clearly not allowed to actually get to, despite her want to do so.
But perhaps her time would come, as Jasmine had already noticed how busy the market was. She'd only need Dalia to be distracted for a moment, and really, she'd been keeping careful note of how to get back to the palace from here. If they did happen to get separated, the situation wasn't unsalvageable.
Even if a growing part of the princess was truly debating the idea of going back to the palace at all. The marketplace was busy, busy enough for someone to disappear into the crowd if they wanted…
But no, she couldn't do that to her father, or Rajah. But one day away from the palace surely wouldn't be that objectionable, would it?
Though, in her more deeply thinking state, Jasmine found that Dalia had gotten a few paces away, off to grab something from another stall. They were still within earshot, Dalia would hear her if there was a problem, but it did give her a little bit of space. Enough, perhaps, that she could get away with doing some exploring of her own.
Taking a step away, Jasmine's slow-growing grin blossomed when Dalia didn't notice, didn't even look back to see where she was. Even as there was a part of Jasmine that reasoned that she would just go a little farther, a larger, more emotional part of her wanted so much more. She wanted to run through the marketplace, get as far away from the responsibilities of the palace and her duties as a princess as she could.
But, in a compromise, she moved towards a fruit stall that was a little ways away from where Dalia was standing, telling herself she would come back over once she'd seen what she could.
However, that plan was somewhat derailed by the presence of a boy at the stall, reaching up to get an apple from a veritable pile set atop it. The small urchin looked bedraggled, straining on too-short legs as he tried to grab at least one fruit. Immediately, the princess's heart went out to the little one, and without thinking she grabbed an apple and handed it to him. The boy eagerly took it, hurriedly rushing off into the crowd, and thinking that was the end of it Jasmine made to head back to Dalia.
But before she could get far, a growl of a voice spoke up from behind her.
"You better be able to pay for that."
Nonplussed, the disguised princess turned to see who had been speaking, and immediately caught sight of the merchant running the booth she had just been standing in front of. He was a broad-chested, bear of a man with a scowl seemingly etched into his face, the look only appearing all the more severe as he had found himself something to be upset about. Jasmine, for her part, was completely in the dark as to what that might be, her steps slowing as she frowned in confusion.
"Pay?"
And, well, suffice to say that was not the answer the shopkeeper wanted to hear, his expression turning from severe to downright thunderous as he reached forward and grabbed Jasmine's arm.
"No one steals from my cart!"
"I-I'm sorry, sir, I don't have any money—" Jasmine started, trying for diplomacy even as her tone started to warble at the rapid pace of the situation she'd currently found herself in. Unfortunately, things quickly went from bad to worse.
"Thief!" The shopkeeper cried, pulling her over to a clear space in his stall, holding her arm down on the makeshift table.
The fact that the shopkeeper then brandished a saber made it very clear just what it meant to be a thief in the marketplace, that coupled with the fact that he was pinning her arm making Jasmine's panic climb.
"Please, if you let me go to the palace I can get money from the Sultan!" It was a foolish thing to say, but Jasmine knew that she had been backed into a corner, and even worse, the man wasn't listening.
"Do you know what the penalty is for stealing?"
"No, no don't, please—!"
But before the sword could come down, something, or more rather someone, had interposed himself between the shopkeeper and the disguised princess, carefully halting the man's arm as he spoke.
"Oh, thank you kind sir, I am so glad you found her!" The boy himself seemed utterly nondescript; his clothes somewhat ragged though as he turned to face Jasmine she caught sight of the features underneath the grime. He couldn't have been much older than her, if not the same age.
"I've been looking all over for you!" He was saying, wagging a finger in her face as he eased her away from the table she'd just been about to lose her hand on. Though the thought was a harrowing one, Jasmine couldn't help more curiosity over whatever was happening at that moment, whispering in an undertone to her apparent savior.
"What are you doing?"
"Just play along." The boy murmured back, low enough for only the princess to hear as a new glint of keen planning came into his eye. While there was a part of Jasmine that couldn't help pointing out that trusting a total stranger wasn't guaranteed to pan out well, it was also abundantly clear that simply trusting the shopkeeper to behave wasn't an option either. So, for the moment, she stayed quiet, watching with keen eyes of her own as the aforementioned shopkeeper reached out to rest a hand on the boy's shoulder. Not quite restraining, but definitely trying to keep up with the weird turn the conversation had taken, and, fair enough.
"You, know this girl?"
Though, as the princess watched, the boy seemed to concoct a story on the spot, his demeanor immediately transforming into that of a slightly put-upon brother.
"Sadly, yes, she is my sister." And in an undertone he added, "She's a little crazy."
This coupled with the gesture of a finger circling next to his temple made an outraged scoff slip from Jasmine, the princess freezing as she remembered that the shopkeeper was watching the whole interaction, and it was him that this tale was meant to fool.
And he definitely didn't seem fooled, his brows furrowing as he leaned into the boy's space and grabbed his vest with an irritable growl.
"She said she knew the Sultan."
Though for all of the confused grousing the merchant had, as well as the manhandling, the youth only gave a smile that mixed exasperation with hilarity as he replied with all the delicacy he could muster.
"She thinks the monkey is the Sultan."
Said monkey had just been in the process of poking around in someone's bag, jumping away when it became clear there was attention being directed to him. However, he landed right in front of Jasmine, who while not agreeing with the plan to make it seem like she was deluded, did recognize the golden opportunity for what it was and immediately knelt down.
"Oh, wise Sultan, how may I serve you?"
And Abu, well, while he might not have totally understood or agreed with what was going on, the likening to a very important royal figure was one that he couldn't pass up. Standing as high as he could, the monkey gave some very authoritative chitters and squawks, rounding it off with a pat on Jasmine's head.
It definitely seemed to soften the merchant's earlier terseness, the man's face growing a little less stern and more slightly bemused at the sight of a girl kneeling before a monkey. Aladdin, seeing that the act had had its intended effect, quickly swiped an apple from the stall behind him and made a show of tossing it to the merchant, exuding an air of tired, brotherly duty as he did.
"Tragic, isn't it? But no harm done." He then moved to his wayward "sister", leaving the aforementioned merchant to stare with a grumpier sense of puzzlement. Briefly Aladdin couldn't help wondering if he'd stolen from this one before, and wondered if the man might've been trying to place him. If that was the case, they might want to make a quick exit.
"Come on, sis, time to go see the doctor." He said to the girl, hoping she would read that as the let's get out of here it was meant to be. Though, well, he ended up being thrown for a bit of a loop when she gave a dozy smile to a camel that had been standing nearby.
"Oh, hello, doctor! How are you?"
"No no no no, not that one." Aladdin hurried out, rushing in to steer the girl by her shoulders as his feet began to carry the both of them away from the scrutiny of the merchant. As he was about to leave, Aladdin glanced over to where Abu was still milling around the ankles of the crowd that had gathered, drawn in by the excitement. "Come on, Sultan."
And Abu, in his zeal to keep up the charade, gave a few very authoritative sounding chatters before dropping into a regal bow, letting loose a collection of coins, apples, and other spoils from his vest.
That, quite unfortunately, also got everyone's attention. Especially the shopkeeper's, given that the apples were from his own stand.
But by that point all the man could do was holler fruitlessly, the crowd blocking his way to retribution and giving Aladdin the perfect cover to make a run for it.
And, as the boy pulled her hand, Jasmine didn't even spare a thought for Dalia, or the life she had at the palace. For the moment, her mind was bright with the promise of an adventure, of something new in her life that she could call truly hers.
They ran for a good ways through the Market, Jasmine's lungs nearly burning as they came to a halt. The boy was panting too, though his mind was clear enough to check around to make sure they hadn't drawn any unwanted attention. However it didn't seem like any of the sellers here really cared what a pair of dusty urchins might've been doing, just so long as it wasn't pilfering their wares.
It also was thankfully a little less crowded here, though that immediately reminded the Princess of Agrabah that she had simply left her guide and friend behind. Her expression dropped for a moment, though as she realized that the boy was turning back to look at her she'd managed to hide the lapse with a more breathless grin. Even though there was a more pragmatic part of her that couldn't help pointing out that she had no idea who this boy was, and if anything he might've had worse intentions than the merchant, there was a part of her that was a little less logical though couldn't help feeling with some degree of ironclad certainty, that the boy was nothing more than what he'd presented himself as before. A bystander that had wanted to help.
And, well, if him helping could've ended in him getting very much the same treatment that she'd been about to get, Jasmine couldn't help feeling like there was bravery tempering his guile, and that could not have been overlooked.
It also helped that, when he'd turned back around, he was wearing the same grin that she'd seen in that moment when he'd told her to play along with his plan. Though this time, without the pressure of the merchant looking in, it was allowed to come out in a much more present and carefree way. He actually had a very nice smile, all things considered, kindness mixing in with levity that made him seem all the more approachable.
Even if the grin was growing a little tinged with what looked like embarrassment, Jasmine briefly confused before the boy began to elaborate.
"Sorry about the whole…calling you crazy, thing. It was the only thing I could think of at the time."
"Well, it did work…" Jasmine remarked, though her candor faded a bit as she considered what could have happened if the boy hadn't spoken up for her. "Does, do people caught stealing often lose their hands?"
"If they're caught, yeah. The important thing is to not get caught."
Which was a surprisingly grim thing now that Jasmine was turning it over in her mind, had the child from before been risking the same punishment? But before she could ask, the boy appeared to finish whatever check he'd been doing, stepping out into the street and waiting for her to follow.
And, all things considered, it didn't take Jasmine long to decide to. She wasn't sure why; it wasn't like the boy was someone she'd known from the palace. But, somehow, she almost couldn't help trusting him.
Perhaps it could be considered instinct, but for the moment Jasmine simply let him take her hand and lead her down the street. Though they did have to pause to let the little monkey clamber up, the primate settling on the boy's shoulder and giving her a somewhat less-than trusting stare.
Well, that was fair enough. Rajah would be side-eying someone the same way if they'd been getting too close to her. Admittedly, the little monkey's stare was a bit less intimidating than that of a tiger, but Jasmine still gave the primate a demurer, not trying to muscle in on your thing kind of nod.
It was a gesture he seemed to understand, the little face relaxing a bit with a slight huff. Not quite an I trust you but more of an alright, I'll tolerate you for now type of feeling. The boy seemed to catch the exchange, giving the monkey a slight huff of his own and a friendly, if not somewhat warning jostle.
"Calm down, Abu."
The monkey didn't seem to be of the mind to let go of his grudge right away, though he did more or less keep his grievances to himself, which Jasmine was glad for. She had heard that some monkeys could be a little vindictive when wronged. But still, any thought about Abu's potential ability to hold grudges was put on hold, her attention refocusing on the path that the boy was taking her through this quieter section of the market. They were moving away from the shops, more into the residential areas of the city.
Not even really the nicer ones either, the ones that Dalia had told Jasmine about in spurts following trips into the marketplace. She had already seen glimpses of those, and likely would have again heading back to the palace.
This though was a new and different experience, Jasmine unable to keep herself from staring as she took in the more dilapidated houses, and much more patchwork people that lived in them. It was, quite plainly, unlike anything she'd ever seen before. Even the simpler clothes of the servants in the palace had to be clean and were usually new. The clothing here was more worn in, faded and in some cases seemingly on its last legs. The people too wore the marks of a harder life, but though they were wrinkled, dirtied, and bent with an unseen weight, there was still a lightness there as they met each other, exchanging the occasional greetings, talking.
A few were glancing at the disguised princess, though while Jasmine did have the brief worry that they'd noticed something about her, or worse still, recognized her, a moment of being watchful seemed to indicate otherwise. The fact that she was holding the boy's hand seemed to clear her of any sort of suspicion, in fact when a trio of older women called out from the side of the street, the boy turned towards them with no sign of hesitation.
"Did you get enough to eat today?"
"Yep, no need to worry about me, ladies!"
"Who's your friend?" One of the women spoke up, eyes looking over Jasmine from behind her veil. It was definitely a more scrutinizing, maybe spotting a bit more than the disguised princess was comfortable with sort of look, though before she really had to quash down on the urge to fidget or glance away, the boy spoke up, tone light and easy but he was starting to steer Jasmine further down the street.
"…Just someone who was in a bit of trouble, I'm showing her around the city today!"
"Ah, of course." One of the women responded, a knowing glint in her eye.
"You both better behave now!" Another called after them. Jasmine was a little relieved to see a somewhat self-conscious flush on the boy's face even as he waved goodbye. It definitely helped figure out the situation, more of a case of close friends, maybe somewhat family, teasing each other. While the boy had been, nice, and he'd definitely saved her, Jasmine couldn't help remembering her old troubles at the palace; surely she wasn't simply going to jump into the boy's arms simply because?
But, even with that thought, she couldn't help feeling more sure of herself as the boy walked her up the street, his friendly manner returning. Something about him just seemed, unquestionably sincere in terms of the care he was offering. It just made him feel more trustworthy, and she didn't have the feeling that he was putting on a front.
It was such a wonderful time that Jasmine didn't realize how low the sun was sinking in the sky, until the boy happened to look up, point it out, and ask her if she had anywhere to stay. And, well, she wasn't really sure how to answer that. On one front, she did technically have a home, but home generally came with far more problems right now than it did benefits. The idea of an impending marriage, for one.
And, well, meaning to or not she'd basically escaped, hadn't she? All she really had to do was just stay away, they couldn't exactly marry her off if she wasn't there.
But, her father…
Though even as she couldn't help the somewhat guilty feeling rattling around her mind, Jasmine couldn't help remembering just how things had gone with Prince Achmed.
Perhaps if he found it so easy to give her away to any man that walked through the door with enough wealth, she could spend some time with someone who had actually put themselves on the line to help her. And, well, she could leave later.
Easy enough, the princess growing more engrossed in the moment as the boy led her up a sort of makeshift ladder that ended up on the roof of one of the buildings. At her question, he explained that this was the way he took to get to his home, the notion that someone would have to climb over buildings to simply get home more than a little foreign to Jasmine.
Not that she was put off. If anything the whole thing just made her more curious, though the boy surprised her with a question of his own as he placed down a board for her to cross between roofs.
"So, this was your first time in the marketplace?"
The remark had her growing briefly sheepish, though Jasmine did her best to cover it with a streak of incredulous bravado, hands on her hips as she replied.
"Is it that obvious?"
"Well, you do kind of stand out…" Came the boy's immediate response, a softer look in his eyes even as he took up a wooden staff in his hands. There was a brief moment of staring, though Jasmine let her smile grow a more bashful edge as she shifted on her feet, the movement breaking the apparent spell.
"I, I mean…" The boy stammered, before turning and vaulting his way over to the other roof. There was an odd moment where he stumbled, face briefly screwing up with discomfort before he caught himself, looking back to her with a more at-ease expression. "You don't seem to realize how dangerous Agrabah can be."
Though even as he spoke, Jasmine had taken up her own staff, using it to similarly vault across the space between the two rooftops. Her feet were slightly less-than steady on the dismount, though in her case it could be written down to inexperience.
But she had made it, her expression and frame practically glowing with confidence as she turned back to him.
"I'm a fast learner." Jasmine replied with a grin, though it fell as she remembered the boy's stumble from before. "Is your arm alright?"
"Oh, yeah, it's fine." The boy was quick to respond, even as he flashed what looked like a still-healing rope burn encircling his right forearm. The wound didn't look too bothered, but it had clearly been a bit tender earlier… "Had a run-in with a pompous royal windbag. He thought it'd be entertaining to use a whip on a child when he was going in to court our princess."
It did not take Jasmine long to realize who the boy was referring to, her expression growing hard as the identity of the 'royal windbag' dawned on her.
"I see…" She said, trying for something a little more concealing and diplomatic, and probably mustering something that came off as a bit more openly bothered. The boy definitely seemed to cotton onto it, his expression taking on a more conciliatory edge as he tried to reassure her.
"It's alright, it's healing. Besides, think he got sent packing this morning. Streets were gossiping plenty about it."
Though there was a part of Jasmine that was still smarting, still wished that she'd been able to do a little more than order Rajah to take a bit of the repugnant prince's underwear, she couldn't help taking some joy in sort of, roundaboutly regaling the exploit to the boy. If anything, he seemed like someone who would appreciate it…
"Yes, I think I heard something about the Princess's tiger taking a piece of his undergarments…"
The boy stared for a moment, seemingly daring her to label the words as a joke, but when she didn't he burst out laughing.
"Oh, if that were true, I would've paid to see that…"
Jasmine could've replied something to the effect of her knowing that it was true, though she couldn't help pointing out to herself that making the assertion would lead to a lot more uncomfortable questions that she wasn't sure she ought to be encouraging.
So, for the moment, she simply gave the boy's words a knowing look and a quiet, conspiratorial laugh, and let him lead her on.
This ended up being into what looked like a building on its last legs, the boy holding her hand with careful respect as he gently eased her up the stairs. He guided her to duck under a somewhat fallen beam sticking out, and somewhat through the wall.
"Wow, watch your head there—" He said automatically, even as he turned and reached over her head as a buffer, keeping her from accidentally smacking it on the beam. Even though the place was not the most well-put-together, there was a part of Jasmine that couldn't help being fascinated. Perhaps because it was so different from what she was used to, her curiosity and amazement slipping out in a single question.
"Is this where you live?"
"Yep, Abu, myself, and some of our friends. Don't think they're here though." They definitely weren't, it seemed, the main room at the top of this ramshackle tower being dark and empty. There was a faint renewal of curiosity in Jasmine's mind, though before she could voice any questions the boy went on. "Figured it'd be better to stick together, and well, this place might not be much…"
The boy punctuated his final words by going to what looked like a threadbare curtain covering a large…window, hole? Either way, as he drew it back the damage became a portal, showcasing a scene that a painter would've spent hours trying to capture. "But it's got a great view."
And indeed it was. The vantage point of the tower meant that a good section of the city was laid out before them, windows softly glowing as evening began to fall. But, while Jasmine's eyes had been focused on the city, Aladdin's gaze had turned towards the opulent palace sitting off in the distance, practically on the other side of the city and a world away.
"The palace looks pretty amazing, doesn't it?"
The palace, while fairly amazing, did also remind Jasmine of her current troubles, the disguised princess's face falling as she quietly sank down to sit turned away from the scenery.
"Oh, it's, it's wonderful…" She replied, knowing the words were lackluster, but not really feeling able to force much else into her tone. It was something definitely noticed by Abu, though the monkey didn't do more than give the girl a grumpy look; how dare she rain on their parade like that? Aladdin though didn't notice the less-than-enthusiastic tone, continuing to muse over the potential of what it would mean to be a part of that world.
"I wonder what it would be like to live there? You know, have servants? Valets?" The words were lofty ones, buoyed up by the promise of a better life. Though admittedly they only held charm for Aladdin and Abu. Jasmine was a little less enchanted, probably because she'd already had experience with both, and, well, reality didn't always hold up to the grandeur of dreams.
"Sure, people who tell you where to go and how to dress…" Jasmine didn't even bother to hide her derision now, Abu beaming her a more open look of disapproval at her lack of support. Though this time, Aladdin noticed, his response coming from a more even-keeled, calmer frame of mind.
"It's better than here." He pointed out, as he picked up one of their stolen apples. "You're always scraping for food and ducking the guards…"
But for all of what he said, Jasmine couldn't help sinking even more into the unfairness of her own situation, unknowingly mirroring Aladdin. "You're not free to make your own choices!"
"Sometimes you're just…" The street rat muttered, the disguised princess speaking at the same time, "You feel so…"
"Trapped." The pair said together, the echo catching each other's attention as they turned to look between themselves with incredulity, and a growing sense of camaraderie.
Though the moment did carry, Aladdin was the first to break it, a sense of propriety coming to him as he grabbed one of the stolen apples — admittedly from Abu's own hand — and offered it to what was starting to feel like an old friend.
"So, where are you from?"
"What does it matter?" Jasmine replied, slightly more cavalier before a hard note came into her voice, a frown slipping onto her face as she declared, "I ran away and I am not going back."
Now that was somewhat intriguing, if only for the fact that Aladdin couldn't help wondering if this made her about as aimless as he currently was. Taking a bit of their last apple, he handed it back to Abu…and missing how the gesture just made the monkey more quietly incensed. "Really? How come?"
It took Jasmine a moment to fully work up the nerve to say just what was going on, for two reasons. On one front, it was a sore point, and on another, perhaps it would cause the boy to recognize her? But, even still, trust won out.
"My, my father is forcing me to get married."
"That's, that's awful…" Aladdin replied, his brow furrowing at the idea. While there was a part of him that very much liked the girl sitting next to him, the part of him that had his values, had his ideals, didn't want to see this vibrant spirit chained up in something that should be her solace, not her cage. His memories of his own mother were, fading in spots, but one thing she had impressed upon Aladdin was the nature of her union with his own father. They had met, fallen in love, and had him. While his father had had to leave, to provide for him, his mother had said, she had maintained that they loved each other. That Aladdin was a product of that love.
And, well, maybe this girl deserved a love similar to that. Though before Aladdin could come up with anything to say, he spotted a familiar flicker of motion on the girl's other side.
"Abu!"
The monkey in question had just been in the process of reaching around and trying to grab the still-uneaten apple in Jasmine's hand. Of course, a lot of the process relied on Jasmine remaining unaware, the monkey reeling back with a frustrated screech at Aladdin for foiling his plot.
"What did he say?" Jasmine asked, especially since Aladdin was frowning at the simian like the irate chatter had made some degree of sense. The question snapped Aladdin out of his frustration at his longtime friend, his attention returning to Jasmine as he tried to rejoin the conversation.
"Abu says…" He started, before an idea occurred to the street rat, and he continued with a bit more finesse. "…That's not fair."
While the words technically weren't too far off, the manner in which they were being said broke off Abu's fury with a confused chattering. Jasmine though understood the direction the conversation was taking, speaking up with a sort of wry friendliness. "Oh, did he?"
"Yeah, of course!" Aladdin replied, a smile readily settling in as he leaned in her direction.
"And does Abu have anything else to say?" Jasmine asked, teasing tone on full display as she carried the act on.
"He wishes there was something he could do to help…" Aladdin answered, his response earnest even with the unconventional framing. He truly did want to help, though admittedly Abu was less than happy to be used as a mouthpiece given his quiet scoff as he turned away from the pair.
"Tell him that's very, sweet." Jasmine replied, her smile turning soft and dreamy as Aladdin leaned closer, their lips nearly touching before…
"THERE YOU ARE!" The cry sent the pair tumbling apart from each other, looking down the passageway that led up to the hovel. A guard was in the process of climbing the ramshackle stairs, out of breath but clearly used to his weapons.
"They're after me!" Both Aladdin and Jasmine blurted out at the same time, immediately hearing the echo and looking at each other. "They're after you?!"
"Oh no, Father must've sent them—!" Jasmine rambled as Aladdin hurriedly got to his feet, Abu automatically hopping onto the boy's shoulder as he considered the drop out the window.
"Do you trust me?" Aladdin asked, Jasmine's frantic energy stalling as she looked to him in confusion.
"What?"
"Do you trust me?!" The street rat asked again, reaching out a hand to her.
"…Y-Yes?" The disguised princess stammered, caught off guard as she placed her hand in his, only for him to pull her up onto the 'windowsill'.
"Then JUMP!" Aladdin yelled, Jasmine automatically moving with him even as she cried out at the sudden drop. The pair plunged into the dilapidated building next door, falling through a hole in the roof, their drop stalled by a few old hanging tapestries. Before Jasmine realized it, they'd fallen onto a pile of sand, Aladdin pulling her up as a hand made sure Abu was still in his place.
"Come on!" He was pulling her towards the door, though before they could reach it a pair of royal guards appeared, blocking off their escape.
"Go, get out of here!" The boy hollered, shoving her in another direction as he tried to make a break for a different door. However, before they could get far, another shadow moved in from the side, that turning out to be the Head of the Royal Guard, Razoul. The man's hand moved like lightning, grasping Abu and tossing him away as he latched onto Aladdin with an iron grip.
"We just keep running into each other, don't we, street rat?" He heckled, tossing the boy back into the arms of the other guards. Jasmine, meanwhile, had turned, realized that her friend had been captured, and tried to grab Razoul's arm.
"Let him go!"
"Lookie here, men, a street mouse!" Razoul jeered, easily knocking her to the ground, not that Jasmine would be deterred. Getting back to her feet, the disguised princess rapidly made a decision, flipping back her hood and exposing her face to the guards as she spoke, this time with a bolder tone in her voice.
"Unhand him! By order of the princess!"
The declaration was so sudden the guards closer to her stopped what they were doing, only to turn and look, recognizing the face of the youngest member of the royal family.
"…Princess Jasmine!" Razoul spoke first, automatically falling into a bow. The other guards instinctively followed suit, though the head of the royal guard was quick to recover, and full of questions to boot.
"What are you doing outside the palace, and with this street rat—?!"
While Aladdin had heard what the Captain of the Royal Guard had called his new friend, he couldn't help his stunned staring. He'd pegged the girl as a noble's daughter, maybe from out of town, but the notion of her being the Princess of Agrabah was something he never would've considered in a thousand years, if not more.
"That is not your concern!" Jasmine was stating, royal court-ingrained mannerisms coming out in full force as she went on. "Do as I command, release him!"
"I, I would, Princess, except my orders come from Jafar. He was quite insistent on this street rat's arrest. You will have to take it up with him." Rasoul, to his credit, did keep his tone respectful, even bowing low as he backed away with the rest of his men and the captured Aladdin. But it was not the acquiescence that Jasmine had wanted, that'd she'd been hoping for.
She tried to catch the boy's eye, tried to convey some kind of message that she'd do her best to help him, but he'd already been turned around and marched up the street, already out of her view.
But even as Aladdin was dragged away, Jasmine didn't let her austere visage fall. Instead, given that a few of the guards were lingering, she ordered them to go with her back to the palace. As the cacophony and confusion started to die down, a flicker of motion at the end of the street heralded an ashen Omar running off into the city, Abu nearly at his heels before the monkey changed his mind, trailing after the guards.