Chapter Text
Aladin was walking on autopilot. His head was filled with thoughts that all jumbled together making incoherent sentences. Out of focus, he stumbled on a tree root and fell face-first on the grassy floor.
His body was numb, his calves were aching and his feet were cramping. For a minute he didn't move, he let the pain surfacing on his forehead linger. It was sharp but grounding.
He slowly picked himself up, dusting his clothes as he wiped the dirt from his face.
Once he stood up he finally had time to properly process his thoughts.
It was midday, and Aladin was all by himself. As he breathes in and out he looks at his surroundings. There were trees, bushes, and small flowers that surrounded the forest floor. He could hear the trees swaying and wildlife thriving.
He sat on top of a large tree root and hunched over, his vision blurry from all the tears building up; from all the pain and the fear of being left alone, his hands were shaking, shaking badly.
Flerida was his everything, without her he had nothing. He threw his sword and shield in anger, but was it anger?
He felt his sweat dripping down his face, his skin was sticky–he felt disgusting.
He doesn't deserve a woman like Flerida, or maybe even any woman at all. He doesn't deserve love, he doesn't deserve care and respect.
He believed that… but something was telling him that he was wrong.
Love.
Love was always something he wished to receive. This emotion that each human has, he wished to receive it from his father. A yearning since the early stages of his life to hear the words: “I love you son,” from his father's lips.
He ended up receiving it, though it wasn't platonic family love but instead… romantic love. It was nice and warm, a good enough substitute.
But then he lost it not long after, because of the same person he wished to receive love from.
Aladin's head was spinning, he felt lightheaded. His sore muscles were aching. He can feel his head throbbing to the beat of his heart. It was annoying and painful.
Out of all the places he could be right now, he wished to go back home to his bed and rest for all eternity.
It's been six years, hasn’t it?
But there is no home. There is no going back. He was banished, doesn't he remember? That's why he is here in the first place, alone, tired, aching, and in pain.
He felt guilty, but for what exactly? What could he feel guilty for?
He didn't have a choice when he was imprisoned, he didn't have a choice when Flerida agreed to his father so he could leave Persia without any harm as long as he never came back, and he didn't have a choice when his mind raced thinking about all the things he can blame himself for.
Freedom.
That was what he felt guilty for. For once in his life he was finally free and he felt guilty about it. Guilty for relishing in this new found freedom, the freedom he would always dream about.
He’s enjoying this freedom while the love of his life is trapped at the hands of a person who was cruel and unkind, a person he calls father.
What kind of a man am I?
He slumped even further, letting his hands cradle and support his face. He lets it go, all of it: his pain, sorrow, frustrations, guilt, everything... he lets it go, and his tears stream down his face. The tears on his face felt cold and he felt empty.
Crying his heart out he asked the sky, “Oh father, why? Why put me, your only son, through pain and sorrow? What have I done to make you despise me so deeply?” His voice was rough and weak. He looked up at the leaves of the healthy tree, the sun barely peering in.
Minutes pass by, but to Aladin, it felt like hours. Hours of crying and crying and crying. All the emotions he kept inside for so long, the same emotions he tried his best to ignore. It all let loose.
After a while something happened. Something he didn't expect.
A sudden wave of emotion crashed upon him. A new emotion. He abruptly stood up, and without warning, he felt courage and strength. A sudden shift in behavior even he didn’t expect.
“I won’t allow this nonsense anymore!” there was pride in his voice. Fierceness was plastered on his face, he wiped the tears that were once filled with feelings of regret and disgrace.
“I owe my father no respect! Flerida doesn't deserve this! I'll save her, I'll make sure to kill anyone who comes in my way!” All of his previous sentiments are now long forgotten, now replaced with determination.
He wiped his tears away from his face. No longer feeling the pain and burden he once carried.
There was distant sobbing.
He was caught off guard. “Maybe I have finally gone mad,” he told himself, halfheartedly believing it to be true.
Absentmindedly, he stared off into the distance until he heard a voice too, but it was too far–too distant–to be coherent.
He was confused but also worried, who could it be? And out of all the places they could be, they are deep in a dangerous forest. Aladin knew this forest wasn’t for the weak, this person could be in danger.
He didn’t even notice when he started walking, grabbing his sword and shield, and walking slowly to the source of the noise. He didn’t know why he was so drawn to this person, but he kept on walking anyway.
It could be a trap for all he knew but his body… didn’t give him any other option other than to keep walking.
Walking and walking. Cutting the tall grass and vines that blocked his way.
As he got closer to the source of the sound he stopped and hid behind a tree.
There was no going back now, he spent so much time cutting down all the things that blocked his way and walking that it would be a waste of effort and time to turn back.
He sensed that this person was alone, weak, and in need of help. Aladin wasn't the kind of person to leave somebody in danger alone to fend for themselves.
With his interest piqued, nothing could stop him now.
As he turned to take a peek, the murmurs became much more clearer and audible.
He saw a man tied to a tree, his blond hair was a mess, covered in mud and leaves. His clothes looked torn, and his frame looked weak. Aladin felt that this man had not eaten in a while.
Not only that but he noticed how bruised this man was, he was even covered in dried blood.
He didn't look like he was from Persia, his clothes looked like he came from Albanya–the enemy country–but that doesn't matter right now, more like Aladin doesn't even care.
Swiftly turning around, he faced away from the tree.
This person was in need and he was willing to help.
I mean, what else was there to lose?
He thought to himself.
It's been six years since his father exiled him from his home, it's not like he is coming back anytime soon.
Not that they will accept him with open arms if he ever does. They don’t see him as their prince anymore so why should he care?
They probably already forgot about him, maybe even erased from their history books.
Six years since they last saw their prince, six years since he last saw his father, six years since he slept in a proper bed, six years since he lived under a roof, six years since he ate a decent meal, six years since he last saw Flerida, six years–
“Oh, my loving Father!”
Aladin snapped out of his tsunami of thoughts when he heard the cry from the blond man’s voice, three words stood out to him.
In a state of shock, he froze in place. His mind was silent, processing what the man said.
Loving.
Father.
Loving father.
His Loving father.
Something Aladin could only wish for in his deepest dreams. A father that would love him. A father that would care.
He didn’t notice how badly his heart was pounding nor how heavy and quick his breathing was.
Tears pricked the sides of his eyes. He quickly wiped them away with the back of his hands.
Sliding down the rough bark of the tree he was leaning on. As he sits down on the soft grass he takes in deep breaths and breathes out.
Before his thoughts could consume him again, the blond man continued speaking, his voice was weak and sounded as if he was crying non-stop for weeks.
“Oh my loving father, why must you die so soon? Why did you leave me alone? We just lost mother, I can't bear to lose you too…” The blond man’s voice cracked.
Aladin’s eyes widened in shock, he wasn’t expecting this. He turned around again to take a peek once more, assessing this man’s face.
If he wasn't intrigued earlier then he was now.
He lets go of his things, gently hitting the ground barely making a sound. He lets his hand rest on the tree as he leans in closer and rests his body.
The blond man looks up at the sky, though covered by dense leaves, sunlight seeped through looking like he was actually talking to his deceased father. He catches his breath before he continues.