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Alcohol wasn't something that Jasmine enjoyed much. Every time she found herself staring into a deep sea of scarlet in a cup, she was reminded of Esmeralda. The shade was similar to Esmeralda's lipstick, and it only made Jasmine miss her more.
It had been over a year since she had last seen the traveling lady. She had seen her the first time during a parade; she had been moping about her upcoming nineteenth birthday, knowing that by twenty she was expected to have at least one child with her husband.
She didn't hate him or anything - in actuality, he was very sweet and patient with her. But still, he was a man, and Jasmine had realized fully that she didn't want to be in love with a man, even as sweet as her prince Ali.
He had came to her conveniently; she was being threatened by her father's royal advisor that if she was not wed by her sixteenth birthday he would marry her, no matter how badly she protested it. Sometimes it was as if he had her loving but dim-witted father under a spell.
Ali had shown up riding an elephant with his own parade and so many feats that would make most princesses swoon. While she did not swoon, she did find herself seeking comfort in him, and allowing him to have her hand -- even if she did not love him the way he loved her.
He had been the one to actually suggest the parade on her nineteenth birthday to her father to lift her spirits. He sat beside her of course, basking in all the glory that a crowd cheering to you would bring, but she didn't mind.
Seeing her people cheer did cause her to smile softly, and the sight of one face in the crowd struck a chord deep in her soul.
Esmeralda.
The first time Jasmine saw her, she had her hair up in a ponytail of sorts, with a gorgeous magenta and violet checkered scarf tying her hair behind her; She stared up at the princess with intrigue and a curt smile on her champagne-colored lips, which only seemed to cause her image to haunt Jasmine further.
That night, she laid awake in her shared bed with Ali and stared at the ceiling, making images of Esmeralda dancing appear in the tiles above her.
Another two years later and Jasmine had her first daughter bouncing on her knee when she saw Esmeralda again; this time, it was during her daughter's first birthday.
She watched with sparkling eyes as the dancers came into the room; they were all dressed in magnificent peacock-inspired gowns, and among one of the vaguely familiar faces was a face she had never dreamed of seeing again; not because she was hopeless, but because she had assumed that such a beautiful face did not truly exist and was just an illusion she had created in her mind.
But she was truly there, dancing around with the other women in front of Jasmine and the cheerful one-year-old. She vowed this time to introduce herself, and after Prince Ali showed up and scooped his daughter into his arms, she had the chance. He told her she could relax for a while why he put little Maya down for her nap, and she wasted no time in heading into the room the dancing troupe were relaxing in.
All of the lovely dancers politely stood up and curtsied to the princess aside from one, whose back was turned as she applied rouge to her cheeks. When she turned, Jasmine found herself holding her breath.
When she finally released it, she spoke. "You," she said, her voice sounding more harsh than she intended, "take a walk with me."
Green eyes turned to her and gave an amused smile before standing up and following after her. Jasmine led her through the garden and to the fountain, asking about the other's life along the way.
It was when she first heard her name; Esmeralda. It was like a melody to Jasmine, and her voice matched it in tone.
Esmeralda told her of her travels across Europe and Asia, how she had traveled on foot with a small group of like-minded friends.
She had a young goat that she claimed had begged to join her in dancing at the palace, but had to stay behind with her friends instead.
Everything that Esmeralda told about excited Jasmine's imagination. Unlike her protected lifestyle, Esmeralda was free to explore the world and go on daring adventures that she could only dream of. While part of her was simply envious, another part of her was too mesmerized to feel it, the dazzling stories and the even more dazzling storyteller charming her too much for her to feel anything negatively.
"I wish I could go with you," Jasmine had blurted out, and she immediately felt guilty. As much as she wanted to explore, she now had a daughter to take care of, and a loving husband that she didn't love in return, at least, not romantically -- so she couldn't possibly leave. Even without the stones of her relationships holding her home, she could never leave her people.
"I'll take you on an adventure," Esmeralda said, and she must have seen the hesitation written on Jasmine's face, so she continued, "just for tonight. Leave your balcony open."
So, Jasmine did. She put her daughter to bed for the night encouraged Ali to continue his lively conversations with one of their more unusual guards -- a Greek man with bright orange hair and blue eyes -- while she prepared for her visit, waiting on the balcony.
Esmeralda sat down on the ledge of the balcony after seemingly climbing up it, motioning behind her to something.
Jasmine watched in amazement as a familiar carpet that Ali had brought into their home the year they wed flew up behind Esmeralda and shook it's fringes like a hand. With caution she reached out and stroked the fabric, wondering how long something so magical had been hiding from her; Esmeralda laughed suddenly.
"You act as if you've never seen a flying carpet before."
Jasmine stared up in amusement and shook her head slightly. "Can't say that I have. I mean, I've seen this carpet, but..."
"Did old Ali never tell you about how he got it?" Esmeralda teased, effortlessly hopping up onto the carpet and reaching out her hand. "Come with me and I'll tell you the story."
Jasmine hesitantly took Esmeralda's hand and held tightly onto her as they started soaring through the night sky.
For a few minutes, Jasmine was too mesmerized to listen fully to the story of how her husband Ali -- whose real name was apparently Aladdin -- had been friends with Esmeralda (and the strange guard, apparently) years ago, when they were just teenagers surviving on the streets.
Aladdin had seen Jasmine and heard the whispers about how she was going to be forced to marry her father's old advisor, and had vowed to not let that happen.
After her guards had thrown him in jail for stealing a loaf of bread for two small kids, he had met a strange old man who had led him to a cave of wonders, where inside he found the carpet an a genie lamp.
All of the questions Jasmine had over the years started to have answers as she listened - every time she heard Aladdin sneaking out of bed and grumbling about how he didn't feel fit to be a prince or when he would duck away and whisper to something in his bag about genies and magic and wishes -- it all made sense now.
She felt infuriated with Ali - Aladdin - for lying to her, but she also imagined briefly what her life would be like if he hadn't lied. She felt miserable at times being married to someone who loved her - if she had been forced to marry Jafar, she would be miserable every day, and she wouldn't be surprised if Jafar had poisoned her father or her after getting the throne.
Still, she would have to talk about this with him later.
For right now, she wanted to spend her time with Esmeralda.
As the night wore on, she felt herself growing tired, so Esmeralda brought her back to the balcony and let her off the carpet. Jasmine found herself staring lovingly up at her and without thinking of the consequences she leaned forward and chastely kissed Esmeralda on the lips once, pulling back quickly.
She rushed to apologize, but the other woman cut her off. "Goodnight, Jasmine. Maybe I'll take you on another nightly adventure sometime." She winked and with that, Esmeralda flew away on the carpet, leaving Jasmine staring wistfully at the stars.
Never again did she run into Esmeralda; she was left for years, reliving the memory in her head, locking it away in a place only she could pry open. Every time she saw that shade of champagne though, she was taken back, just for a minute, to her favorite memory.