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Chapter Text

A young boy looked out over the rich ivory and pearlescent tones of the roofs of the city. Though his eyes were dry, his cheeks were still damp. He sat upon the balcony railing, seemingly numb to the wailing of mourners and the despair of the townspeople.

But Genie knew better. There was more weighing on the boy than most realized. No, not a boy anymore. He hadn’t been a boy for the past year or so. At sixteen he’d already crossed blades with someone determined to destroy him, and now . . . he would most certainly be forced to set childish things aside. War was just a day or two beyond the horizon, a horrible fate for a peace-loving kingdom.

“Your highness,” Genie ventured.

The dark-haired man turned to him, pain in his honeyed brown eyes. “Was it–?”

Genie shook his head, knowing what he was about to ask. “She passed peacefully.”  He offered a sad smile. “Did you really think I’d forget the first wish of a scared, heartbroken boy?”

The young boy’s mother had been stricken with an incurable disease nearly five years ago, a disease that the parents of a friend had experienced with excruciating pain near the end. Genie could still remember when the boy, then barely eleven, ran to him, begging for a cure. Unfortunately, a cure was beyond Genie’s abilities, so the boy had settled for the wish that when the time came, his mother would pass peacefully and without pain. The wish itself had had gray areas galore, but Genie had wrestled his powers into the desire of the broken boy’s heart.

“Did she free you?” the young man asked.

Genie released a half-depreciating chuckle. “I’m the Genie of the Royal House of Ababwa. Only the one on the throne or immediately destined for the throne is allowed to do that. I know you’ve gotten into the habit but . . .”  He waved it off. “You have two more wishes, that’s less than most sultans start with.”

“That’s all I need, . . . Khaleel,” the sultan-to-be answered.

Genie smiled, handing over the lamp, his tie to this boy’s family for generations. Honestly, he had it better off than most genies. Most got passed around through dozens if not hundreds of masters, trapped in their lamps for centuries or millennia. He could at least pretend that he’d had his own wish to be human granted already.

He jolted as he felt the insistent pull that always came from someone rubbing the lamp.

“Genie, I wish for the safety of Ababwa, that Ababwa will remain hidden from those who wish harm or destruction upon it.”

Genie nodded, quietly weaving the protective magic that would physically hide Ababwa from any enemies and keep any potential enemies from finding Ababwa in any books or maps. He could see the wisdom of this wish. Ababwa may have overflowed with riches and held various alliances, but its military had always been the weaker when it came to war. Part of why he had been recruited as the family genie.

“It is as you wished, young sultan,” he said.

“That leaves only one more thing to take care of.”

Genie protested as the young man started rubbing the lamp again. “Ali! No!”

“I wish to set you free.”

Genie froze. Had he really just . . .? He felt the magic drain from him as the jeweled, gold manacles fell to the ground and disintegrated to dust. He wasn’t much changed, not really since he’d already been in his human form. But . . . was it really possible?

Ali still sat upon the balcony rail, leaning back against a bare trellis. But a small smile now decorated his face.

Genie (could he really be called that anymore?) had to test that this was real. “Tell . . . tell me to do something.”

Ali chuckled. “I’d like some jams?”  Of course, for his notorious sweet tooth.

“Get them yourself?”  No backlash of disobeying a wish. No punishment for defying his master. He laughed. “Get your own jams!”  It was real. He was free. No strings attached, no longer pretending. He was free. The knowledge overwhelmed him.

Ali left his place and wrapped his arms around the freed genie. “It’s alright, Khaleel,” he said.

“Thank you,” Khaleel whispered. “Thank you.”

Once they separated, Ali asked, “Well, what now?”

Khaleel shrugged. “I’ll stick around. I still have to find that right girl.”

Ali lightly chuckled. “Maybe we’ll find our girls in the same place. Oh, and don’t you forget, Khaleel, it’s Aladdin. I don’t care what anyone else says. You’ve always been my friend, and my friends reserve Ali for formal addresses.”

Khaleel grinned. “Alright, Aladdin.”  He took a deep breath, enjoying the air of freedom. He then allowed his joy to sober. “We best change into the sackcloth for mourning.”

Aladdin slowly nodded. “Thanks to you, we are free to mourn Mother as she deserves.”

“Thanks to you,” Khaleel returned. He put an arm around his young friend’s shoulders and gently led him away. The next few weeks and months would be hard and full of adjustments, but he had a feeling the young prince would pull through.

~*~*~

Atop a blue sand dune, beneath a near moonless but starlit sky, a figure sat atop a dark horse, flanked by two others. His dark eyes searched the rolling dunes before him. That desert rat should have arrived an hour ago. Finally, he spied a small dust cloud kicked up by a rider approaching at great speed.

A few minutes later, a horse, half-wasted, slid and snorted to a halt. The man upon the beast jumped to the ground, as though fearful the steed would collapse under his weight. He shook out his robes on his stocky frame, pulling himself to a full height that would have barely met the waiting man’s shoulders. He stank of filth, blood, cunning, and deceit.

“You are late,” the lord said, looking down his nose at the ratty though garish man beneath him.

“A thousand apologies, O Patient One,” the man said, bowing so that his desert turban almost swept the sands at his feet.

“You have it then?” the “Patient One” asked.

“I had to slit a few throats, but I do possess it,” the murderer answered. He reached into his inner tunic, faint starlight gleaming on the jewel he revealed. The lord reached for it, but the thief leaped back, tutting. “Not so fast. I want my payment.”

“You dare disrespect the vizier?” one of the guards demanded.

“Silence,” the vizier said, raising a halting hand.

The thief cried out as a bird’s talons scratched him, stealing away the jewel.

“Do not fear, Gazeem,” the vizier said, catching the jewel as the parrot dropped it into his hand. He withdrew a near identical jewel from his own tunic. “You shall have your reward.”  He ran his fingers over the jewels that he knew to be solid gold. A half scarab inlaid with jade wings and tooled with fine bronze filigree. The one Gazeem had just brought him was more tarnished and crusted with dirt and still drying blood. But it also had a slim, narrow shelf running down its inner center that would fit perfectly into the crack of his own half.

His world narrowed in on this single, halved jewel. He was just one step closer to gaining what he sought, to becoming the most powerful man in the world, to making Shehrabad pay for what they did to him. He fit the pieces together. For a second, the jewel sat whole and complete in his hands but lifeless. However, before his fury at being deceived could overtake him, the scarab sprang to life, glowing as bright as a torch’s flame, flying upon translucent, golden wings.

The scarab flew about before shooting across the sands like an arrow loosed from a bow. “Follow it! Quickly!” the vizier shouted. He kicked his horse straight into a gallop, his guards quick to follow, Gazeem half-bumbling onto his nag. This was why he had risked taking horses into the desert sands. Camels never would have kept up with the scarab. Even as they climbed up and half-slid down the sand dunes, the horses could barely keep the jewel within sight.

The vizier whipped his horse. “Faster, you stupid brute!”  The horse whinnied shrilly but put forth another burst of speed.

A shadow, darker than night rose up before them. The mountains on the borders of Agrabah. The scarab wove through stone arches before circling an irregular dune against a cliff face.

The horse screamed as the vizier reined it to a halt, watching as the scarab separated into two once again before burrowing into the sand. A whirlwind swept through the valley, ripping at the dune, and creating a sandstorm.

The vizier barely heard the men behind him, barely heard the horses panicking. It was forming. The entry was revealing itself. Finally, the winds died down. In the sandstone cliff face the giant face of a great tiger, fangs jutting from the opened mouth, ready to devour any deemed unworthy. “Yes, this is it,” he said gleefully. “The Cave of Wonders.”

“Cave of Wonders,” his parrot croaked.

“Gazeem!” the vizier called.

The thief stumbled forward, shock and awe stunning him.

“Go forth and bring me the lamp,” the vizier commanded. “Claim what you will of the treasure, but remember the lamp is mine.”  The vizier knew not if the treasure was free for the taking, but even if it was not, there was one string too many to leave stranded.

“Yes, O Great Vizier,” Gazeem said with another bow. He eagerly approached the Cave.

Yet before the thief had even reached the threshold of the great mouth, a roar rumbled through the desert, shaking the ground beneath the horse’s hooves. “Who disturbs my slumber?” the glowing eyes and inner throat throbbing with each syllable.

“Ah, Gazeem,” the stocky peasant answered, kneeling and bowing his forehead to the ground. “A humble thief.”

“Know this,” the Cave of Wonders warned, “only One may enter. One whose worth lies far within. The Diamond in the Rough.”

Gazeem turned back to the vizier, spreading his hands helplessly.

“What are you waiting for?” the vizier demanded. “Go on!”

Fear weakened the thief’s knees even as he turned once again to the cave. With cautious, furtive steps, he stepped across the lip of the cave, just beyond the fangs. He paused. Then a roar, far greater than the one before shook the whole desert. It nearly drowned out Gazeem’s screams as he tried to escape the collapsing jaws.

“Seek ye out, the Diamond in the Rough,” the Cave of Wonders commanded, its voice echoing about them as its fiery light faded away.

“What now, my lord Jafar?” one the guards asked.

“Why we return to Agrabah, and seek out this ‘Diamond in the Rough’ that can enter the cave,” Jafar answered turning away. And, perhaps, he should perform some better research, find more reliable sources that will tell him the truth about the Cave of Wonders.

Chapter Text

~Three years later~

“Come on, Mozenrath. Won’t you at least consider?” Aladdin asked.

“Sworn enemies, Ali,” the pale wizard snapped. “I don’t care what that woman said.”

“Sworn enemies who are brothers by birth and, because of Mother’s dying wish, can’t destroy each other,” Aladdin argued. How many times over the past three years had they gone over this? Ever since the fight that ended because they couldn’t harm anyone on the opposing side. On Aladdin’s part, it was tiring, trying to build a peace when his older, illegitimate brother continually wanted war.

Mozenrath growled, turning to Khaleel. “Talk some sense into this boy. That woman wasn’t my mother.”

“She didn’t see it that way,” Khaleel said. “If she’d had her way, you and Ali would have grown up together. We just couldn’t find you. She loved you like her own.”

“And talking sense into that idiot ‘brother’ of mine?”

“Oh, believe me, I’ve tried,” Khaleel said. “And if it ever succeeded, he would have stopped impaling himself on your sword after the second Talk we had here.”

Aladdin smirked from his leaning stance as Mozenrath half-whirled to see him casually resting on the sword’s blade. The fascinating nature of the wish fulfillment: a weapon could go through them but not harm them. It didn’t even hurt. But he wasn’t so much of an “idiot” as to let it go through his heart or head.

He jerked back as a hard hand slapped his cheek. The sword swept down and out of him in a familiar, odd tingling sensation, just before he was sent reeling the opposite direction by a backhand.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?!” Mozenrath shouted. “Do you have a death wish?!”

Aladdin almost smiled as he caught what he’d been waiting for. Underneath that angry tone was worry, not too much different from Mother’s voice. “So, you do care.”

Mozenrath froze. He growled as he half-turned away. “Fine! You’ve gotten under my skin. You’re an idiot kid who needs protecting, and Allah help me I think I’m taking on the responsibility.”

“Oh, it isn’t so bad, big brother,” Aladdin said, giving him a teasing smile around the ache.

If looks could kill, Mozenrath would have murdered him right then. “You have your peace between us, what more do you want?”

“The possibility of a regent or a fellow sultan over Ababwa?” Aladdin returned.

“What?”

“I’m sure you know by now that I am searching for a wife. But there is the possibility that if she is an only child, there will be not one but two kingdoms for me to rule, or help rule. I need someone who won’t take any of the nonsense of the grouchy nobles and haughty viziers, who can at least learn to love the people of Ababwa as much as I do.”

“You do recall my own kingdom, don’t you?” Mozenrath asked, with a raised eyebrow. “I am the Lord of the Black Sands. I rule the kingdom of the undead.”

“You were never meant to rule the undead, Mozenrath,” Aladdin said. “And if you are willing to change, I want you to help me rule Ababwa. Like Baba and Mother would have wanted us to.”

Mozenrath sighed. Looking to Khaleel he asked, “He’s not going to give this up, is he?”

Khaleel shook his head. “Not for the next fifty years or more.”

The wizard growled low. “Fine. Have it your way, I’ll at least consider it.”

“I’ll send–”

“No tutors!” Mozenrath snapped. “They’ll only become mamluk feed.”

“Okay,” Aladdin said, holding his hands up. “I’ll see ya around.”

“What? No set date, your ‘highness’?” Mozenrath teased.

“I’ll be visiting a kingdom for a few months, considering the possibilities,” Aladdin said.

“Good luck,” Mozenrath said. “Be sure to let me know if I should be preparing engagement and wedding presents.”

“I will,” Aladdin said. “Just nothing the mamluks have touched.”

“Even I have a sense of cleanliness,” Mozenrath said.

Aladdin nodded in farewell. “Allah be with you and protect you.”

“The same to you, and may he bless your endeavors,” Mozenrath returned turning away.

As they left the too familiar meeting place, Khaleel said, “I am surprised it actually worked this time.”

“If nothing else, he’ll allow us some peace for a couple months,” Aladdin said.

“When are you going?”

“As soon as I can get into my street clothes.”

“Please say that you’ll let Jephtha take you.”

“Of course, but as soon as I’m within the gates, I’m on my own for three months.”

“Just like the last times. I’ll get you the night of the third full moon,” Khaleel said. “The entourage will be ready and waiting.”

Aladdin released a long breath.

“Alright, why the long face?” Khaleel asked.

“What if I never find her?”

Khaleel gently bumped him. “You will. The Desert Moon will guide you. That’s what your mother wished.”

“Well, the moon hasn’t been any help yet,” Aladdin said. “I don’t even want to know how many kingdoms I’ve visited.”

“Some of them leading to the defeat of a hundred villains in total,” Khaleel said. “Awesome for your resume. And you’ve gained more allies, saved a few kingdoms.”

“Got a few scars for my troubles,” Aladdin acknowledged, “and a fear of mud.”

Khaleel even cringed. “Oo, yeah. There’s a reason I never bring that venture up. I doubt anyone would believe me anyway. Oh, Sadira stopped me the other day. Zahir is doing wonderful, growing up into a fine five-year-old. You never would have guessed that he was once a hatred and vengeance driven genie.”

“So, it paid off to give him a second chance,” Aladdin said, releasing a small smile.

“But remember, it doesn’t always work like that,” Khaleel said. “Sometimes that evil is just too strong to be overcome.”

“Zahir was a special situation, Khaleel. You know that. It’s not too often you come across genies who were human and somehow became a genie.”

“Aladdin!”  A young girl, barely ten, ran from Ababwa’s gates, closely followed by a harried woman who appeared to be in her late twenties to early thirties.

Aladdin chuckled, sweeping the girl into his arms with a hug. “Are you giving Eden trouble, Dhandi?” he asked.

“Not intentionally,” she answered.

Eden reached them, huffing lightly. “This girl has to learn to slow down and finish her chores.”

Dhandi giggled behind her hands.

“She’s still a child, Eden,” Khaleel said, smiling.

“That in some countries would be considered of marriageable age within two to three years,” Eden returned.

“Well, thankfully the youngest anyone can marry in Ababwa is sixteen,” Aladdin said. “So, so long as chores are finished, and finished properly, ten-year-olds can still be children.”  He kissed the girl’s cheek much to her giggling and blushing delight.

Dhandi was a girl that he had met during one of his stays on Ababwa’s streets. It had actually turned his planned month into nearly five before they had discovered Eden. Well, Dhandi had discovered Eden while wiping dirt off a hookah shaped lamp. Thankfully, Eden was the kind and considerate sort of genie who worked the gray areas into the wisher’s favor. And it was after Aladdin explained some of the rules and how he personally liked to grant genies their own wish in the end, he had outed himself as Prince Ali. Dhandi had been eager to free Eden with her last wish, but had accidentally wished Eden’s staying with her.

So, Aladdin had borrowed the lamp to make two wishes on behalf of Dhandi’s future and freed Eden from her lamp. Ever since then, Dhandi lived in the palace as his ward and Eden as her adoptive mother. Even if they were sometimes more like an older and younger sister.

“I heard you were leaving again,” Dhandi said, looking down to where her fingers were fiddling with some gold cord.

“I am,” Aladdin answered.

“Why?”

“Because, I want to find a special someone who I can share the rest of my life with.”

“But you haven’t found her before.”

“I’d like to think that it’s because I wasn’t looking in the right place. And I have to keep searching or else all my advisors will start torturing me with talk of arranged marriages.”

Dhandi sighed before peeking up at him. “Where are you going this time?”

“Agrabah,” Aladdin said. “It is a lovely seaside kingdom to our west. I’ll be back with news before four months have passed.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. And no trouble for Eden while I’m gone.”

“Okay. When are you leaving?”

“So long as I’m not caught,” he said, switching her around so that she was riding on his back, “I hope to be heading off within the next hour.”

“Eden and I can help,” Dhandi said excitedly.

“You can?” Aladdin asked. There was the smile he wished to leave her with. The girl nodded eagerly, hugging his shoulders. “Okay, I can’t get caught by any of the nobles or my viziers. Jephtha will be whisking me away as soon as I’m ready.”

“We won’t let them within sight of the hall,” Dhandi promised.

“Good girl,” Aladdin said. “Now, let’s get to the palace quick.”

They laughed together, the two former genies with them joining in ruefully. “Do you realize you may have instigated a one-sided prank war?” Khaleel asked under his breath as they neared the palace gates.

“Dhandi needs at least a bit of distraction,” Aladdin said with a shrug.

Khaleel rolled his eyes with a smile. “Eden,” he said, “keep Dhandi preoccupied with her plotting for at least ten minutes. I do have some good news for those people concerning Mozenrath, and I would rather not have to tell them while they’re irate.”

“You got it, Khaleel,” Eden said. “Oh, Aladdin, try not to collect another magical artifact.”

“You know how these things go, Eden,” Aladdin said. “It must be my irresistible charm.”

Eden rolled her eyes.

“Who knows,” Aladdin said, “the next genie might be your type.”

Eden smirked, considering him out of the corner of her eye. “Remember, he needs to be a little on the quirky side with a great sense of humor. None of the dour or dark types.”

Aladdin chuckled. “I’ll even throw in good with kids as a bonus,” he said, tickling the back of Dhandi’s knees.

The girl squirmed with giggles before Aladdin set her down, turning and crouching down on her level. “Eden and I won’t let those men near you,” she promised.

“And I’ll be back within four months,” he promised back. They hugged one last time before Dhandi grabbed Eden’s hand, dragging her off laughing.

“I’ll send Jephtha to you,” Khaleel said. “Remember to be careful.”

“I will,” Aladdin said. “See you in three months. Oh, and if it seems promising, I’ll see if there’s a possible match for you as well.”

Khaleel chuckled. “You just focus on learning that city and staying out of trouble.”

“I’ll do my best,” Aladdin said, but left unsaid was how trouble always seemed to find him despite his trying to avoid it. He embraced his best friend and confidant before he slipped away to his rooms.

Aladdin removed his gold and ivory cloak, tossing it over a chair as he approached his wardrobe. Pressing a hidden latch, he opened a secret compartment. There were some who would steal these old clothes away and destroy them if they could find them. So, he always kept them hidden.

A few short minutes later, his fine, white linen pants were replaced by the narrower, faded tan leggings. His finely tailored shirt and vest were exchanged for a rougher, thinly striped shirt and hooded vest. His golden belt was laid aside for a worn, green sash, and his fine turban for a purple fez with green stitching. Finally, custom boots removed for a pair of old but serviceable half-boots. Throwing a worn satchel over his head and shoulder, he inspected himself in a three paneled, gold-framed mirror. He messed his hair a little before smiling in satisfaction.

“Abu,” he called.

The little monkey appeared from his little hidey hole, chattering in excitement. He scampered across the room before clambering up the prince to settle on his shoulder.

“Ready to explore a new city and make new friends?” Aladdin asked.

Abu chattered the affirmative.

Aladdin always made sure to leave Abu at home when dealing with Mozenrath. The last time the monkey came along, a cursed amulet had come away in his sticky paws. Ever since then, Aladdin distracted Abu into the monkey’s own little house where he couldn’t cause trouble.

He’d first met Abu about five years ago, when he and his mother were visiting a neighboring kingdom. That led to his first grand adventure, one that only he, Abu, and Khaleel knew of. And Aladdin wished it to stay that way. In fact, he’d very much like to forget it himself. Magical artifacts weren’t to be toyed with.

After that, Aladdin never ventured out into the streets without Abu. The monkey was the perfect companion for a lowly street rat.

Aladdin checked the hidden pockets in the satchel. Not quite enough gold to last three months in a good city. In a good city someone would take a chance of hiring a street rat. In a bad city he’d have to “steal” to survive. He was such a good pickpocket, he could pay the stall owners and they’d never notice until the end of the day.

“You can only be as happy as your least happy subject,” Mother used to say. Apparently, it was something she and a friend had agreed upon years ago.

So, Aladdin took on the role (as best he could) of any kingdom’s least happy subject. Some cities, while he could get by, many others couldn’t. And the rulers didn’t care. Those places, he always kept his official visit as brief as politely possible.

Aladdin raided his personal coffers, packing as many gold pieces as he would need to survive without weighing himself down needlessly.

He jerked to the door as it cracked open.

“It’s only me,” Jephtha said. He was a genie that while desiring freedom and humanity also wished to keep some of his powers. He was now the local wizard, specializing in parties and helping the prince safely and quickly reach each kingdom he wished to visit. “Are you ready, your highness?”

“I am,” Aladdin answered. He paused. Something checked him. “Wait.”  He went over to a chair near his balcony. It was the chair Mother used to sit in. Her favorite robe draped across it and her lute sat upon it, as though waiting for her graceful fingers to dance across the strings again. He picked the instrument up. He traced the strings without a sound.

Abu mewled in question.

“It’s coming with us,” Aladdin said. “I’m not sure why, but I feel like I need to bring this with me.”  He swung the strap on opposite his satchel and settled the wooden instrument upon his back. “Now I’m ready.”

Jephtha nodded with a smile. He waved his hands about in a circular motion parallel to the ground.

Aladdin closed his eyes as he felt the magic whip around him, allowed it to carry him away. He knew that when he again opened his eyes, he would be on the other side of the continent, in Agrabah.

~*~*~

The princess stared out over her city from her balcony. She had had enough of waiting, of hearing the fear fueled warnings and suspicious mutterings. Nearly ten years have passed since she last journeyed with her mother beyond the walls of the palace. She wanted to wander the market stalls again. Experience the hustle and bustle of the city. Visit the people she loved.

She hadn’t been with her mother on that last fatal venture. She had been only eight-years-old at the time and had been sick. She had told Mother to go ahead and visit the people, then come back and tell her about everything she had seen and heard. She had never returned. She had been murdered upon the streets, in a shadowed alleyway.

Jafar had claimed it was the people of Agrabah who had killed her. Baba had listened and locked the gates against the people. The princess could not believe that the people her mother loved would turn on their queen so heartlessly.

Now, she was tired of being trapped like a bird in a gilded cage. She wanted to breathe the free, dusty air beyond the palace walls. And, if she could, she wanted to find answers for why her mother had been killed.

“Dalia,” she said, “I need to find the most unassuming gown I have.”

“Oh, what idea did you get in your head this time?” her handmaid and confidant asked.

“I am going outside the palace walls,” the princess said.

“Jasmine, have you gone mad?” Dalia gasped.

“No. I am simply sick of being guarded and trapped like some secret jewel. Now come on.”  She led the way into her spacious closet, almost lost in the sea of a vibrant, jewel-tone rainbow. “I need something that will allow me to blend in,” she said, searching through the rustling fabrics.

“And if we are unable to find it?” Dalia asked, joining in the search.

“Then we will make one ourselves.”  Jasmine whipped her head around as Dalia laughed. “What?”

“If need be, I’ll be the one making it,” Dalia corrected, her eyes sparkling. “A fine princess and lady you are with a brilliant head upon your shoulders, yet you could never stitch a straight line. Oh, I’ll let you choose the fabrics you desire, but I’ll cut and sew where needed.”

Jasmine smiled. “Thank you, Dalia.”

“Are you sure this isn’t about the fifth prince come to call this month?” Dalia asked as they continued their rummaging. “What was his name again?”

“Achmed,” Jasmine answered, considering a rich chocolate brown satin before discarding it. “Sounds more like a cough than a name.”

“Why was it that he stormed out of the gardens?”

Jasmine bit back a laugh as a smile stretched across her face. “He was harassing Rajah, and when that stuffy prince turned his back, Rajah took a bite out of the lower half of his tunics.”

Dalia exploded into laughter, prompting Jasmine to release her own. “So that explains why he was shouting to his attendants with his half-torn cloak wrapped about his waist.”

“It’s not my fault Rajah felt the need to defend himself,” Jasmine added. “He had every right to.”  Of course, that was not how Baba and Jafar saw it. But there had been nothing to stop Achmed from storming out of the palace and leaving Agrabah. Jasmine certainly felt no compulsion to apologize, not after he had insulted her and her mother. She forced her thoughts away from that awful scene and back to the situation at hand.

“And this isn’t about that,” Jasmine said, redirecting both of them away from the overdressed, self-absorbed prince. “I want to see my people again. I want to know what has changed and what has not outside the palace walls.”

“Well, depending on how secret you wish this to be,” Dalia said, “the sewing may take awhile.”  She released a long puff of air. “Just looking through all these gowns will take at least a week.”

Jasmine blew out her own quiet puff. This would take awhile. But she was determined to find a way to slip out of the palace unnoticed and finally escape this cage for at least a few moments.

~*~*~

Aladdin inspected the tower room he had found in an old, abandoned house. He smiled broadly. This was perfect.

“Someone is very happy,” Jephtha noted.

“I love it,” Aladdin said. “I’ll spend a couple days fixing this place up, making sure I’ll be safe here. But I am all settled in.”  Carefully setting his mother’s lute aside, he dropped onto a tattered cushion.

“I’ll tell Khaleel you arrived safely and are situated.”

“Thanks, Jephtha,” Aladdin said.

“You’re welcome. Well, I’m off. Be careful and stay out of trouble.”

The prince laughed. “I will be doing my absolute best.”  A moment later, it was just him and Abu. He released a long breath. “Come on, Abu. Let’s see what we can find in this place that can make it a bit more of a home.”

It took a week before he was satisfied with his work, and he had already started making friends in the marketplace and the surrounding area who could be willing to help if there was a threat of trouble. He was also finding out about the royal family. He would definitely be needing the full three months to figure everything out.

Chapter Text

Aladdin slipped through the crowds. Three months was almost up and he wasn’t completely sure what to think of Agrabah. There were two sets of guards: one the Sultan’s and the other that he wasn’t sure of. The uniforms were similar enough, but there were just enough consistent differences that they were clearly answering ultimately to two different people. The palace didn’t lack for riches as a shipment of imported silks and fruits attested. But . . .

His stomach growled. Agrabah was bordering on a bad city. He could scrape by, but women and children had it far harder. He leaned against a wall before giving Abu a date from the bag he had managed to barter from Zulla.

Two gold pieces had been nimbly exchanged for a gold necklace, but the jewelry that should have gotten him two to three bags of dates . . . He released a breath. Even the potential merchants for street rats weren’t reliable.

A child’s gaze drew his attention down. A boy younger than Dhandi looked up at him, silently pleading beside his mother and sister.

Abu immediately tucked his date underneath his fez.

Aladdin gave the boy a gentle smile, holding a finger to his lips as he gave his dates to the family. The boy’s smile as the disguised prince slipped away made the impending reprimand for his malnourishment worth it.

Besides, he still had a few coins left that he could use to filch for bread or apples later. That was better than some could say. He winced as he recalled the number of coins he still had. He’d have to check the moon’s phase tonight. If it was more than a week before the full moon he’d have to tighten his belt further.

He walked through the market, looking for something to eat. He paused when he caught sight of a young woman holding a fig up to the sun with delicate fingers.

She didn’t truly stand out in her white and sheer veil. But there was a subtle grace as she moved and . . . a gold and jade bracelet embraced the lower half of her forearm. It made the necklace he’d traded earlier look like costume jewelry. The woman moved from the fig stand to the bread stall, where two dirty children stood looking longingly at the soft, fresh loaves. She bent to meet their eyes. “Hello. Are you hungry?” her voice gentle and barely hinting at a noble upbringing.

The children nodded even as she kindly touched one’s face.

Her heartbreak sparked in her eyes before she quickly grabbed a loaf for each. “Here,” she said smiling. “Have some bread.”

Aladdin braced himself. Things were about to get interesting.

“Hey!” the apple-seller, Jamal, shouted. “Hey! You steal from my brother!”

“Stealing? No, I-” the woman protested.

Aladdin started forward quickly. He had a feeling that this girl was almost in over her head.

“You pay or I take bracelet,” Jamal said.

“I don’t have any money,” the woman said. The words barely left her lips when Jamal grabbed her arm, trying to wrest the bracelet from her. “Let go of me!” she demanded, more angry than afraid.

Aladdin quickly stepped between the two of them. “Whoa! Hey, take it easy, Jamal,” he said with a smile.

“Kalil steps away from the stall, and this one,” Jamal shook his finger at the woman, “this one steals the bread.”

“Those children were hungry!” the woman protested.

“Hey, let me handle this,” Aladdin said. Jamal caught his shoulder before he could focus on the woman.

“You keep your little street rat nose out of it,” the apple seller warned.

Aladdin turned to the woman. “Do you have any money?” he asked quietly, catching her wrist. He silently undid the bracelet’s clasps. This bracelet was worth at least the bread cart and apple cart both.

“No,” she answered, “but-”

“Hey, trust me,” he said. He met her eyes, brown infused with subtle gold. For a moment he almost got lost. But as the final clasp gave way, he forced himself to return to the matter at hand. He heard her gasp and protest as he turned to Jamal. “Was this what you wanted?” he asked.

“Yes,” Jamal answered, snatching the bracelet and stuffing it into his pocket.

“And an apple for your troubles,” Aladdin said, Jamal never noticing that the disguised prince had swiped three apples from the stand. The first apple went into Jamal’s hand, the second into Jamal’s pocket with two gold pieces as he slipped the bracelet out again, and the third found its way into his satchel. He wouldn’t be going near the market again today after this. He left the pleased Jamal as he dragged the still protesting girl with him.

“No! I am not leaving without my bracelet,” she argued.

“You mean this bracelet?” Aladdin asked, subtly showing her the jewel. “Come on, we need to put some distance between us and him. Abu will show you the way.”

She looked a little unsure as Abu leaped onto her shoulders.

“It’ll be okay,” Aladdin assured her. “I’ll meet you on the other side. Go.”

Just as the woman ran with Abu, Jamal’s voice rose above the market’s bustle. “Aladdin! Thief with Aladdin!”

Aladdin smiled. Things were about to get fun. “Looking for this, Jamal?” he called, holding up the bracelet.

He ran as the guards started to gather. He half-slid into an alley. He raced part way through before using a wagon of wares as a boost to reach a series of poles that crisscrossed the upper half of the alley. He danced through them, pausing only once to see that the guards were sufficiently blocked for the time being. When the poles ran out, he twisted himself to the ground. He turned just as someone accidentally dumped a basket of pink petals over the market. “Abu? Abu,” he called.

The delicate blossom remains fluttered about the woman as Abu left her shoulders. She slowly turned towards him, her veil half-fallen from about her face. Nothing obscured her delicate features and slender neck.

Aladdin stopped as he felt his heart skip a beat. He had seen many beautiful women, nobility and peasant alike. But he now felt that none could compare to the young woman who stood before him now.

~*~*~

Jasmine never would have dreamed that things would go this way. After a week and a half of searching her wardrobe, Dalia had sewn the clothes she now wore, and just this morning Jasmine had managed to escape the palace.

Everything was both familiar and foreign. Aside from the extra guards, Jafar’s guards, and the starving people. Mother never would have allowed this. Especially the children.

Jasmine had not expected to be faced by the irate man who accused her of stealing, and she especially had not expected the appearance and help of the handsome stranger. The monkey, Abu, while cute in its own way, was a little disconcerting. But Abu was actually a good monkey when it came to showing her where to slip away and make it to another side of the market.

She had found herself mesmerized by the falling petals when a familiar voice called for the monkey. She turned and watched as Abu scrambled up to the young man’s shoulders. For the first time, she really looked at him. Some of his dark hair fell over his forehead. His eyes though kind and bright were dark like the sea on a moonless night. And he was currently looking at her as though he had just found the greatest treasure. Before she had opportunity to blush, he stumbled over a small pot.

She jumped a little unsure what to do even as he turned and apologized to the owner of the pot. As she and the stranger started walking together through the stalls, she felt the need to defend herself. She didn’t want him to think the worst of her. “To clarify,” she said, “I wasn’t stealing and those children were hungry and I-”

“That’s called stealing,” the man said quietly, carefully maneuvering the both of them through the narrower streets. “And if you’re caught, you’ll spend three weeks in the stocks.”

“Stocks?” Jasmine murmured. Just then, they passed what could only be described as a prison post. A man stood shackled to the wooden beam and a two-piece slab of board leaned against the nearby building. A chill of horror ran through her as she noted the three small holes spaced out on the board.

“Omar was released just yesterday,” the young man said. “He was nearly skin and bones.”

“Um, how much trouble are we in?” Jasmine asked. She was starting to feel a bit nervous about her impulsive actions.

“You’re only in trouble if you get caught,” her guide answered.

Then someone far behind them shouted. “Stop! Thief with Aladdin!”

Jasmine looked about as everyone surrounding them stood still as statues, staring at her and the man with her.

“Oo, that’s you,” the man said with a wince.

“Me?”  She never thought she’d be labeled a thief. And here she was with the “title” of “Thief with Aladdin.”  Was that the young man’s name?

“See you on the other side,” he said, pointing through a door. Beyond the opening were huge vats of something that people were stirring. Cloth dyeing perhaps? “Now,” he stressed, interrupting her thoughts.

“Oh!”  She jumped before racing through the doorway and among the vats to what she hoped was a good hiding place. At least until she could take a further cue from her current protector.

~*~*~

Aladdin shook his head a little as he quickly mapped out his escape route. That woman had to be from the palace. One of the upper servants at least. He’d figure it out later when he had the freedom to do so. He made brief eye contact with a person closing their window. It was fortunate that he was good at making friends.

He jogged up the stairs barely pausing to knock on the shutter before continuing his dash. He held back a chuckle as he heard the guard get smacked. He could already tell that these were not the Sultan’s guards, so he didn’t feel near as bad giving them the slip. They were far more crueler, treating most like dirt or less.

He swung himself from a platform over the dye merchants, sliding down a stout pole. He nodded at some of the workers who handled the colored powders. He spied the woman, reached out for her as a signal to follow. “Come on!”  He raced over the vats as his new friend scrambled after him as best she could. He grinned as he caught sight of her nervous but excited smile. At least he wasn’t the only one who found the chase fun.

As they entered a less crowded area, he could make out the guards’ shouts. “Riffraff!” “Street rat!” “Scoundrel!”

“Into that alley,” Aladdin said, pointing to the doorway opposite where the guards were coming from. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

The woman nodded, running to the entryway.

He turned, just as the guards raced in. He grabbed a nearby knife as he stepped onto the lowered platform of a large scale. “You guys should really try different tactics,” he taunted, slicing a rope. The goods attached to the other end fell down and catapulted him up to the balcony above.

“Rip him open!” one of the guards shouted in anger.

“Round the back, men! Don’t let him get away!” the leader, Razoul, ordered.

Aladdin grinned broadly. Good, their main focus was him, no longer the woman from the palace. “Yeah, I can take a hint,” he taunted Razoul. “I could really use a friend or two around here.”  He leaned back against the wall, waiting for Razoul’s return taunt. But if it came he never heard it because Aladdin found himself tumbling back through a door.

Please, not the brothel. Please, not the brothel, he silently pleaded. He’d made that mistake once during a chase and he did not wish that to happen again. Why he hadn’t taken note of its exact location in order to avoid it, he couldn’t recall. Unless it was his mind’s way of erasing it completely from his mind.

He almost breathed easier as he spied a teacher’s board on the wall across from where he’d stopped. But then he saw all the young girls looking at him with their childish awe. Thankfully, all modestly dressed young girls.

“Oh, it’s Aladdin,” one whisper-giggled to a friend.

“Too bad he’s so poor,” another whispered.

“Good day, ladies,” Aladdin said, standing.

“Baba says that he’s become a one man rise in crime,” yet another girl tittered.

Aladdin’s attention was quickly diverted when he saw the irate school teacher approaching. “Good day, good mother,” he greeted politely if nervously.

The older woman brandished her pointer/switch at him. “I’d blame your parents for your upbringing if you but had them,” she said.

“My mother actually raised me pretty well I think,” Aladdin said. He jerked away, barely avoiding the switch. “But gotta eat to live, and have to steal in order to do that.”  He avoided the second strike. He almost got caught as a guard ran in. “I’ll tell you all about it when I’ve got the time,” he said, hurrying over to a window. Two canopies staggered on either side of the alleyway below. Perfect.

He leaped out, causing the guard immediately behind him to fall straight down. Aladdin felt the canopy he’d landed on bounce him back. He slid along the back of a second guard who was looking down at the first. He gained his feet and stayed at the guard’s back as he spun round. Aladdin wracked his brain for how to get out of this. Ah, diversion. He spun on his toes and grabbed the keys hanging from the guard’s belt. He continued the little dance until he could hop onto the window sill. “Missing something?” Aladdin dangled the keys before the guard’s eyes.

The guard grabbed the keys, momentarily forgetting about the street rat. Just enough time for Aladdin to hop out and tumble down from canopy to canopy to wagon of rolled rugs to the ground. He grinned up at the woman waiting for him.

She shook her head like anyone would at a crazy friend. “There are stairs, you know,” she said, laughter flavoring her voice.

“But where’s the fun in that?” Aladdin asked, pulling himself up and grabbing her hand as he led them on their way again. As much as he enjoyed the thrill of the chase, he was going to have to figure out a way to bring this to an end. They would have to disappear somewhere. At the alley’s end, he held his hand out as another acquaintance drove by on his cart.

The man barely nodded.

Aladdin caught hold of the back of the wagon and swung both him and the woman up onto the ledge.

She gave a surprised cry almost immediately followed by a small laugh. “Think you could warn me before you do something like that?” she asked.

“If I can,” he answered, looking ahead. Yeah, more guards were starting to join the chase. Definitely time to wrap things up so that they could get to his hideaway. He swung round behind his companion. “How about a quick stroll round the next block?” he suggested.

Her quick glance between him and the moving ground below them was enough hint that she could guess what he planned.

He grabbed her by the waist before they leaped off. He kept his grip until she found her feet again. Together, they raced through another alley, the guards quickly gaining on them.

“Stop, thief!” the guards shouted. They were too close.

Aladdin caught a loose beam and knocked it across their pathway.

“Vandal!” someone shouted.

“Abu!” Aladdin called, spying his monkey trying to steal some fruit. He directed his new friend up some stairs past a fruit seller who was admittedly a very good friend. He followed a few steps behind. When had the guards started picking up speed?

He cried out as a firm motherly hand dragged him up and behind. “Get moving, Aladdin,” the matronly woman ordered. “And take a melon. You’re getting to be skin and bones. It’s a wonder you’ve run this far across the markets.”

“Thanks, Oma,” Aladdin said, claiming a melon from her basket and slipping it into his bag. “You’re too good to me.”

She eyed him over her shoulder. “And don’t you forget it, street boy. And none of that slipping gold to me,” she added in a lower voice. “It’s a gift, not a ‘steal.’”

“Yes, ma’am,” Aladdin said with a grin. Of all the friends he’d made in Agrabah, Oma was probably the one who very nearly saw through his act. Maybe it was because despite her rough edges and occasionally gruff manner, she reminded him of his mother.

“Now you and your lady friend get out of here, I’ll handle the guards.”

Aladdin nodded with a smile, turning to see his “lady friend” watching him with a raised eyebrow. “She half-adopted me,” he explained as he passed her. “Come on.”

Two guards got smart and tried to gain the house roof from a scaffolding.

“Not today,” Aladdin said, kicking the wooden structure away from the roof edge. He gave a quick wave before the guards landed on a canopy of drying petals. He ran to a wooden crane. It was just long enough that once swung round a little bit, he could make the house on the other side of the road with little trouble. The pole leaning against the outer wall would work for the woman. He really needed to get her name.

“Together on three,” he said, pulling himself up on the crane.

“Together on three?” she asked.

“We jump,” he answered.

She whirled, shock and fear widening her eyes. “We jump!?”

He had to get her out of here. She would be lucky to last a day in the stocks. He pushed that fear aside to smile at her and try to lighten the tense situation. “Why are you repeating everything I say? The pole,” he pointed.

She lined up with the pole, looking nervous.

“One. Two. Three!”  Aladdin raced forward, vaguely aware of the woman running beside him. He jumped off the end and tumbled into a short roll to absorb the impact on the roof. He half-expected to see the pole still settling above him, his new friend gasping in relieved laughter on the level above him. But that wasn’t the case. He looked across the way.

She stood, clutching the pole. “I’m sorry,” she called.

The guards were shouting to each other, following orders to get onto the roof where she was.

He was powerless to help her. She had to jump. It was the only way. He scrambled up to where he was almost level with her, give her a place to focus. “Look at me,” he said, just loud enough to catch her attention. “Look at me. You can do this.”

The fear left her face, determination settling in. She backed up, just as two guards scrambled onto the roof. She raced forward, desperation fueling her. She grabbed the pole and with a scream flew over the street. The pole jerked just short of the upper level, dropping her into his lap, nearly driving his breath out of him.

He felt his ears turning red. It was one thing to hold Dhandi on his lap. This was another thing altogether. It was some small comfort that she wasn’t comfortable with the situation either. “Nicely done,” he said as she scrambled off and to the roof.

“Thank you,” she said, catching her breath.

There was now sufficient distance between them. Now how to completely throw them off? He grinned as he spotted what he needed just the next roof over. He ran over, the woman just behind him and Abu rejoining them. “Hide behind those crates,” he said, pointing over to the side. She disappeared behind them before the guards were within sight again. As he picked up a large, heavy rug, Abu held out an anchored rope. Aladdin nodded, taking the rope, allowing the monkey to run and hide as well.

As he heard the guards approaching he ran to the roof edge and leaped off. As he dropped, he threw the carpet down onto the wooden lean-to below him. The carpet crashed through just as he planned as the rope safely deposited him through the window directly below.

He dropped to the floor of the empty room, listening to the shouts from below and the steps of the guards above. He breathed deeply, allowing a moment of rest. But only a moment. He had to get back up there and get the three of them safely to his place. Oma was right. It was a wonder he’d kept up the chase that long. Satisfied that the guards had left, Aladdin started to climb back up to the roof.

As his arm latched over the edge of the roof, he heard the woman gasp. Abu started chattering excitedly as Aladdin pulled himself up. He smiled as he caught sight of the woman.

She shook her head in exasperation, as though saying, “Don’t you know how you worried me?”  Then she straightened, composing herself with a small smile.

“Come on,” Aladdin said. “I know where we’ll be safe.”

“Do you need help up or will I need help down?” she asked.

“A bit of a hand up,” Aladdin answered.

She hurried over and helped him up and over the edge. “Are you alright?” she asked as he caught his breath.

Before he could answer his stomach growled. He wished he could shrivel up with embarrassment.

“You’re hungry,” she said. “Should I get some bread for you?”  But there was a twinkle in her eye to hint she was teasing.

“No, I’ve got a melon and apple in my bag,” Aladdin answered.

“Then don’t starve on my account,” she said. “I won’t be offended.”

“Thank you,” Aladdin said. He stood to his feet, even as he pulled out the apple and a dull paring knife. He cut out a slice and offered it to her. “You did good, but we still have a ways to go yet.”

She smiled a blush darkening her cheeks as she accepted the slice. “Thank you,” she said.

Aladdin cut a second slice to keep Abu happy, before tucking the knife away and taking a large bite from the apple. He fought back a moan of pleasure as the sweet tartness enveloped his tongue and the juices dribbled to his chin and wet his throat.

“You haven’t eaten in a while,” the woman noted, her slice revealing she’d only taken a delicate bite.

He shook his head, chewing and swallowing before he answered. “It’s been a couple days since I’ve had a decent solid meal. Even longer since I had one of Jamal’s apples. He may watch his stall like a hawk, but when you can actually get one or two of his apples, they are the best in the world.”  He led them safely down off the roof, sneaking another bite of apple along the way.

“So, how far away exactly?” the woman asked, before putting her last bite of apple in her mouth.

“We’ll be heading towards the palace,” Aladdin answered. “Where we’re headed is maybe a fifteen to twenty-minute walk away from there.”

“So it’s a good distance,” she said.

Aladdin nodded. “We’ll be taking as many alleyways as we can and trying to blend in.”  He took another bite of apple. It would definitely take awhile seeing as he wanted to avoid the guards as much as possible now. But if they survived the first part of the escape, they would survive the rest.

Chapter Text

In a shadowed tower, a man in rich, dark robes paced among the clutter. Books of magic and arcane arts sat piled in certain orders. Scrolls and scraps of parchment peeked out from among the tomes and shadows. Maps stood stored in ceramic jars. A book lay open upon a podium, showing a sand dune with the rough image of a tiger’s face in it.

A great, spiraling sphere of many rings, holding orbs of planets in the center, commandeered most of the room. The central planet was dark, a swirling cloud softly glowing within its core.

A red and blue parrot flew through a window to land on its perch with hardly a squawk.

Jafar studied the spell, ensured he had everything right. “I ask the Sands of Time to reveal your secrets to me,” he intoned, “to show me the one who can retrieve the lamp.”

He could hear the ancient voices whispering, he could feel the magic gathering, but all in vain. The spell collapsed upon itself, dispersing in so much dust and smoke.

He fought to control his anger as he stood before his armillary sphere in the face of yet another failed attempt. “Smoke screens and slight of hand. Alchemist tricks. I need real power. I need the lamp!”

“Seek out the Diamond in the Rough,” Iago squawked.

“But where?” Jafar asked. “Where will I find him?”  He snapped the spell book closed. The incident in the dungeons earlier still rankled him.

There had been two prisoners, two possible candidates. Both were rough, but neither was a diamond. They were locked up, and despite the man’s incompetence in finding the suitable candidate, Jafar was willing to allow him another chance. But then he had done the unforgivable.

“You are already second to the Sultan,” he had said.

“And you think second is enough?” Jafar had asked.

“Of course,” the simple-minded man had said. “You were not born to be sultan.”

That sniveling, little man was now no more. Just another tally to be added to the other bodies he had buried on his rise to the top. Not that he kept an actual count. Aside from one, the first step in making Shehrabad pay for those five years they imprisoned him. For nearly fifteen years, he had sacrificed. Determined to make all those who underestimated him pay for what they did.

He was nearing the mark of his thirty-fifth year. He was determined by that time to have Agrabah under his rule and Shehrabad nothing more than a memory and pile of ash. He had yet to decide on a fitting punishment for the Sultan and the half-Shehrabad mouse. But he would find it. And it would be perfect, a warning to all not to cross him nor underestimate him ever again. He would prove himself to be the most powerful man in the room. He was nothing without that ultimate power. Nothing.

Chapter Text

Aladdin breathed a little easier as they entered his alley. He climbed a couple buckets to reach the rope.

“Um, where are we?” the woman asked.

Aladdin smiled. It was meant to look like a dead end. “You’ll see,” he said. He stepped into the loop in the rope’s end. His weight pulled down the hidden lever that moved the gears that pushed out the previously concealed beams. They locked in place as a narrow stair.

The woman gasped, eyes wide with wonder. “Is this, is this where you live?”  She scampered up, barely waiting for Aladdin to follow.

“Yep, just me and Abu,” he answered, following after her. “Come and go as we please.”  Inside he led the way to the crumbling but sturdy minaret.

As they finally stepped into the rundown room, he said, “Welcome to my humble –” He paused. It didn’t look real good. Why did he feel the need to impress her? He’d never felt uncomfortable about showing his homes away from home before. “You’ll see.”  He turned a lever, lowering a rough cage of broken masonry which in turn raised the worn, tattered red canopy into a roof over most of the room.

She laughed in awe, removing her veil. “You are quite the magician,” she said walking beneath it. Reflected bits of colored light played across her back and waist-length, black braid.

“Thank you,” he said. When was the last time someone actually liked what he had done? Honestly liked it? He looked to Abu, but the monkey was no help, settling down to rest. Shaking his head, he tried to quickly straighten some things up.

The woman was at the opposite balcony, looking over the city. “I can’t believe . . .” she started, her soft words carrying to his ears.

“What?” he asked. Ah, tea! He should make her some tea.

She turned, awed amazement, mixed with disbelief on her face. “I can’t believe we did that. That I did that. That we’re alive. With the chase. Jumping buildings.”

Aladdin smiled as she continued rambling, wandering about the tower room. “Abu? Tea?” he asked quietly.

Abu only stretched and scratched himself.

Aladdin half shook his head before turning to his guest. “Tea?”

“It was incredible,” she murmured before answering. “Thank you. And thank you for getting me out of there – Aladdin, isn’t it.”

“Uh, you’re welcome . . .”

“Oh, I, I’m Dalia,” she answered. Almost as though she’d never expected someone to ask for her name.

“Dalia . . . from the palace,” Aladdin said.

She froze, her eyes widening. “How could you tell?”

“Well,” Aladdin said with a shrug as he started the tea, “only someone from the palace could afford a bracelet like that. And that silk lining in your dress is imported too. It goes straight from the merchant boats to the palace, but not to servants.”  Completely unfamiliar with the market and how things worked. High quality garments and a custom-made jewel. “At least not most servants. Which means that you–” She could be the princess herself . . . but now wouldn’t be the time or place to reveal that he knew if that was the case. “–are a handmaid to the princess.”

She turned back around from facing away from him. “Impressive,” she said, somewhat guarded.

“If you think that’s impressive, you should see the city from up there,” he said, gesturing up to the landing behind her. He smiled as she ran up the stairs to look out over the city and distant palace.

“Agrabah,” she murmured. “It’s so beautiful.”  She paused. “I should get out more.”

Aladdin decided to test the waters. Try to get a feel as to why the kingdom was in the shape it was in. “You should tell the princess to get out more. The people haven’t seen her in years.”

“They won’t let her,” Dalia said. “Ever since my– The queen was killed the sultan has been afraid, so she’s kept locked away.”

“Seems everyone’s been afraid since then,” he said, recalling the murmurs and whispers he’d caught over the past three months. “But the people of Agrabah had nothing to do with that.”  He’d personally seen to that much. Upon discovering the late queen had been murdered within her own city, he had ventured into the darkest corners, talked with those of the darkest hearts, those who knew of even darker hearts. Even those who were heartless grieved the queen’s passing and vowed vengeance upon whoever had murdered her. “The people loved her.”

Dalia turned, smiling if a bit sad. “They did, didn’t they?” she said. She knocked over the lute.

Aladdin winced a little. He should have brought that back down this morning.

Dalia picked it up. “Is this yours?”

“Kind of,” he answered. “It belonged to my mother.”  He turned to finish the tea. He stilled as he heard a familiar tune glide from behind him. He turned to see Dalia playing the lute, playing “Desert Moon.”

“Your mother wished that “Desert Moon” would guide you to your bride,” Khaleel’s words from shortly after Mother’s death rang through his mind.

It hadn’t been the literal moon she’d meant. It had been the song. Aladdin wasn’t sure how he knew. He just knew. Oh, please, let her be the princess and not a handmaid, he silently prayed, desperately. I’ll love her either way. I love her already. But I would rather not have to fight my viziers and the nobles in order to have my bride.

“My mother taught me that song,” he said, trying to break the spell.

She looked at him. “Mine too.”

“One of my best memories of her.”  He turned back to the tea.

“And your father?” she asked, setting the lute down.

“He disappeared when I was young,” Aladdin answered. “Some say that part of what caused my mother’s death was a broken heart.”  He mounted the stairs with the tea, handing a glass to her. “It’s alright, it’s just–”

“What?” she asked, so concerned, worried.

He had to reestablish his street rat role. He couldn’t let it slip just yet. “It’s a little sad,” he answered. “Having a monkey as the only parental authority in your life.”

She chuckled, just as he’d hoped.

“We get by,” he said as she sipped her tea. “Every day I think things will be different, but it never seems to change.”  A little too real, even as a prince. Yes, his escapes as a street rat kept things interesting, but he missed having a real reason to return to the palace other than royal duty. “Just sometimes I feel as though I’m . . .”  How could he–?

“Trapped,” Dalia said. “Like you can’t escape what you were born into.”

“Yes,” Aladdin said. He would surrender his kingdom for this girl. His mind called him crazy and foolish, even a traitor to his people. But his heart didn’t wish to hear any of it. He was getting lost in her eyes again. Thankfully there was a good foot or two between them.

The moment was broken as a great horn heralded a grand ship sailing into harbor. The golden crest on the blue-green sails was that of Skanland, if Aladdin recalled his lessons right. He couldn’t explain why his blood suddenly boiled at the thought that the overdressed, dim-witted Prince Anders might try to win his princess’s heart. That is . . . if Dalia was truly the princess. This not knowing was going to drive him mad.

Dalia quickly turned to him. “I have to get back to the palace,” she said. She hurried past him, giving him back the tea glass.

“Uh, now?”  Aladdin could have bitten his tongue. Seriously? Did he say that? Well, probably better than saying anything about the pompous prince. That would definitely blow his cover.

“Yes, now,” she said, hurriedly fixing her veil back on. “What’s the quickest way to the palace?”

“I’ll show you,” he said. He quickly set the tea glasses back on the cabinet’s counter before leading the way out. As much as he would have liked to delay it, he took her the quickest way. As they neared the palace gates, Prince Anders’s parade came by, actually one of the smallest parades Aladdin had ever seen, not including the poorly concealed gift of cannons. “It’s just another prince coming to court the princess,” he said.

“Yes,” Dalia said, “and I have to get her ready.”  She almost turned into the crowd then seemed to remember something. “Oh, do you have my bracelet?”

“Sure.”  Aladdin reached into his pockets, not recalling which he’d put it in. His brow furrowed as his fingers found only cloth. He searched the others. Dread started to coil in his stomach. No. It had to be here somewhere. He mumbled something, he wasn’t sure what as he kept searching. Finally he turned to Abu behind him. “Abu, did you take it?”

“That was my mother’s bracelet,” Dalia said, a quiet, heartbroken anger stirring in her eyes.

Aladdin tried to salvage the situation, buy time. “Yes, it’s beautiful.”

“You are a thief,” she said. “I was so naive.”  She turned, disappearing into the crowd.

“No! Dalia! It’s nothing like that!” Aladdin shouted after her. He groaned. “Great.”

He turned just in time to see a spooked horse rear up over a child. The girl screamed even as Aladdin darted forward and swept her up and out of the way. He glared defiantly up at the guard riding the horse.

“Street rat! Get out of the way!” the guard ordered.

“Who are you calling a street rat?” the prince challenged.

“Are you talking back to me?” the guard countered. “You were born worthless, and you will die worthless. And only your fleas will mourn you.”

The words slammed into him like a ton of bricks. He’d heard worse but it still hurt every time. And not just for him, knowing that was how the speaker felt towards all those beneath him. He tried to remain defiant as the guard rode away.

Prince Anders rumbled by in his enclosed carriage, shielding him from the people of the princess he wished to court.

Aladdin’s heart twisted. What if the princess did not view her people kindly? What if Dalia really was just a handmaid and not the princess? He escaped into the crowds, returning to his rundown minaret. In the relative safety of his refuge, he allowed his mind to wander.

The guard’s words echoed in his ears, the insults hurled at him earlier. Riffraff. Scoundrel. Street rat. He knew that it was because that was what they were shown. He wore nothing to contradict that view of him. None looked beyond the surface, aside from a few like Oma. Playing a street rat certainly kept one humble and was not for the faint of heart.

He sighed as he looked about his home before sitting before a window half-created by age. He knew that within the fortnight, he would be traveling these same streets in a parade that would put all others before it to shame. Simply because Khaleel would settle for nothing less. Prince Ali would be welcomed and honored by the same people who currently scoffed and ridiculed him.

As Khaleel liked to say, “People see what they want to see.”  And right now, people only saw him as a poorly dressed street rat, never dreaming that a prince would lower himself that far.

Aladdin looked up when Abu slid down one of the torn drapings an all too familiar bracelet in his notorious sticky paw. He quietly groaned. Sometimes the monkey was a blessing and other times a curse. “Abu,” he said, taking the bracelet, “there is a time when we do ‘steal’ and a time we don’t. This was definitely a don’t.”

The little monkey cringed at the light scolding before scampering back up.

Aladdin looked at the bracelet. He had ruined it with Dalia, all because of his monkey. A plan started to form. If he could only return the bracelet, everything would be alright. It would also provide the perfect opportunity to discover the true nature of the princess, whether or not Dalia was actually the princess.

He looked over towards the palace. He’d snuck in and out of his palace in Ababwa dozens if not hundreds of times. He would have to wait until dark, and he’d have to improvise a bit more than he usually felt comfortable with. But, he had to find answers. And this bracelet gave him the perfect excuse.

Chapter Text

Jasmine rushed through the corridors, half-cursing the tightly laced bodice that this particular gown required. She had just barely made it in time. She was certain that she was already late in greeting the visiting prince.

Dalia ran beside her, a basket in her hands for last minute fixes once they reached the receiving hall’s doors. “What made you so late?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice low.

“I’ll tell you later,” Jasmine promised. They came to a near sliding halt before the doors. The princess straightened her skirts, lightly brushing them off as her friend smoothed back her upswept hair and ensured all her jewels were straightened.

“Your mother’s bracelet,” Dalia said, worried. “We must have forgotten it–”

“Not forgotten, Dalia,” Jasmine said, barely stopping her friend running back to her chambers. “It’s part of what I have to tell you.”  She took a deep breath. “For now, I have a prince to meet and see if perhaps he is any different from the others.”  But her heart she feared was no longer hers to give. The bracelet wasn’t the only thing stolen by the thief Aladdin.

“There,” Dalia said, fixing the final coin so it hung down like the rest. She moved to the side, giving the basket to a waiting servant.

Jasmine took a deep breath and slowly released it. She faintly heard Baba greeting Prince Anders and asking after his journey. She nodded to the door attendants. They swung the doors inward. Jasmine on instinct reached over to touch Mother’s bracelet to grant her courage. But it was gone, gone forever because she had been naive enough to trust a thief.

She pushed it aside and stepped forward. She studied the awestruck prince as she descended the stairs. He was fair-skinned from living in cooler climes. She could barely see his pale gold hair beneath his tall, fur hat. She couldn’t imagine him being comfortable in all the fur-lined robes he wore. He was clean-shaven, showing off his strong jawline and high cheekbones. At least in appearances, she could do worse. One thing in his favor, he actually appeared to be about her age, unlike some like Prince Achmed who looked to be at least twice her age.

But she couldn’t help comparing him to the thief in the markets. Aladdin had clearly lived under the desert sun his whole life, his skin lightly kissed into a healthy tan. His black hair almost fell across his forehead, but nothing could hide the warm, dark brown eyes. His smile was broad and full of life. Yes, she had caught him admiring her, but there was a respect in his gaze. And, after she played the lute . . . there was something else there also.

She mentally shook herself, forcing herself back to the present. Aladdin was a clever, cunning thief. She should never think of him again, no matter how her heart started rapping against her ribcage. Stop it! she ordered herself. If nothing else, she couldn’t afford to make a fool of herself before the visiting prince. Even if her definition of such was different from say Jafar’s or Baba’s.

“Prince Anders,” Baba said, “my daughter, Princess Jasmine.”

Jasmine stopped beside her father, her tiger, Rajah, moving to stand to her left as Dalia stood behind her at her right.

“So, why did no one tell me of your beauty?” Prince Anders asked, his voice thickly accented.

“No one mentioned yours either,” Jasmine said dryly.

“Thank you,” Prince Anders answered, clearly missing the slight barb. “They say that in Skanland. Yeah, right?”  He chuckled, looking to his men behind him, and as if he had granted his permission, they all started laughing somewhat stiffly. Prince Anders laughed harder, unnecessarily. “Very, very amusing.”

“Isn’t it?” Jasmine returned pleasantly. “We use the same titles but are never described the same way.”

Prince Anders stared, blinking as though he’d never thought deeply before in his life. Apparently while he got some blessed appearances, his mind had suffered.

“Jasmine,” Baba softly reprimanded.

Jasmine sighed, momentarily casting her eyes downward. At least it hadn’t been Jafar this time, even if she could still feel his distinct disapproval.

“Ja,” Prince Anders finally said. Then his attention was diverted. “What is that?” he asked, gesturing to Rajah.

Jasmine looked over at the visiting prince. He couldn’t be serious. He’d never even heard of a tiger before?

“No, don’t tell me,” Prince Anders said, grinning, pleased with himself. “It’s a cat with stripes.”

He was serious. Oh, Jasmine prayed that she did not need to spend any visiting time alone with him. She would be bored to tears before five minutes passed.

“He likes you,” Iago, Jafar’s parrot, squawked.

“I know,” Prince Anders said. “Because is Skanland, cats love me. Hey, puss-puss.”  He leaned down, waving his tasseled staff towards Rajah’s face. “Hey, puss-puss.”

Rajah lashed out with a growl, nearly stealing the staff. He did however manage to startle Prince Anders to the floor with a scream. Indeed. Cats love him. They must want to eat him then.

“Rajah,” Jasmine said, touching her tiger’s head, calming him. Oh, she would have loved nothing better than to let her amusement show, maybe even praise Rajah for bringing the prince down a peg or two. But that couldn’t happen here, not when she was supposed to be a proper princess.

“Prince Anders,” Baba said as the prince recovered himself. “We were told that you brought us a special gift from your homeland.”

“Yes, yes! This way, please.”  Prince Anders whirled about, leading them out to the upper courtyard and the balcony that overlooked the city and harbor.

Jasmine raised an eyebrow at the poorly concealed cannon and brass cannonballs. She could only begin to imagine the reasoning behind such a gift. It was clearly more for her father than any of her interests.

“Can you guess what it is?” Prince Anders asked, hopping up and down like a little boy excited about a new plaything. He actually thought that they couldn’t tell what it was immediately.

Very well, two could play at this game. Or maybe even three. “Oh, um, Dalia is good at this game,” she said.

Dalia nodded as she caught onto Jasmine’s thoughts. If Prince Anders wished to have silly women with silly notions, that was what he would receive. “Yes, what could it be? Is it a giraffe?” Dalia asked. At each denial, she offered another possibility. “Is it a male cow? Is it a female cow? Is it a gaggle of geese? So it is not a gaggle?”

“Oh, you naughty girls, you lied. You are not good at this game,” Prince Anders said, highly amused. He tossed his tasseled stick to a servant before going over to grab the sheet that covered the cannon. He waited until Jasmine raised her eyebrows and then with a flurry of cloth, whipped the covering away to reveal a large brass cannon. It was set onto a wooden, wheeled structure and framed by two brass, charging bulls. “Surprise!” Prince Anders cried.

“Oh, it’s a cannon,” Jasmine said to Dalia.

“It’s a cannon,” her friend returned with a smile.

“In Skanland everything we make is very sleek and minimal,” Prince Anders said.

Jasmine raised an eyebrow. If this was “sleek and minimal” she’d hate to see otherwise. “Oh, it’s very impressive,” she said. “But, we are a humble people, Prince Anders. Unimpressed with the gift as much as the sentiment behind it.”

“Sentiments,” the prince floundered. “It’s for . . .”

“Your desire for war?” Jasmine asked.

“No!” Prince Anders answered in disbelief. “It’s just a very big gun.”  He looked so pleased with himself, like a boy playing with toy soldiers.

Jafar stepped in, quite unwanted, “Our princess fails to understand that no man desires war, but a ruler must prepare for it nonetheless.”

“Ja, whatever that means,” Prince Anders said. Oh, there was no possible way. Jasmine would feel as though she was constantly in the presence of a child who needed schooling. She’d wither away into nothing before their first anniversary.

“The princess also wonders,” Jasmine said pointedly, “if in preparing for this war, you induce the very conflict you seek to avoid.”

“No, no, my dear,” Baba murmured.

“Ah, the princess has read something about statecraft,” Jafar said, granting a demeaning, obliging smile.

“The princess,” Baba said, turning to the prince, “is delighted to receive your gift, Prince Anders. As are we. Please.”

“Yes! Yes. We will target that boat over there,” Prince Anders said with a hop, pointing into the harbor. “The one with the cross-hairs. Drum roll, please!”  As a couple soldiers drummed, Prince Anders accepted a line attached to the trigger. “Prepare yourselves! It is very loud.”

Jasmine backed away with Baba and Dalia, sticking her fingers in her ears as she saw several of the Skanlanders doing the same. The cannon exploded, shooting back from the force of firing. She waved the resulting smoke away, trying to keep from choking.

“I hit!” Prince Anders shouted, celebrating like a child.

“Very impressive, Prince Anders,” Baba said as Jasmine walked forward to see the results of the cannon firing.

“Yeah,” Prince Anders answered, “it is a very good design.”  With pride he touched the oversized barrel. Even Jasmine knew not to do something like that.

She looked out into the harbor. She fought to keep her slight amusement in check. “Tell me, Prince Anders, which boat were you trying to hit?”

“That one over there,” he answered pointing.

“So, not the one with the target on it,” Jasmine said, tilting her head to the side. “Isn’t the one sinking your boat?”  Yes. She was completely and totally unimpressed with this prince. Even without a troublesome market boy invading her thoughts.

~*~*~

Jafar paced the Sultan’s study. Of course that half-Shehrabad mouse couldn’t remember her place, remain silent and accept Prince Anders. And worse, the Sultan allowed her. “My sultan, our enemies grow stronger every day,” he said, “yet you allow your daughter to dismiss Prince Anders and a possible military alliance.”

“What enemies?” the sultan asked seated behind his desk. Of course he wouldn’t believe that there were enemies. He certainly wouldn’t suspect Shehrabad. Not as Jafar would wish him to.

“Shehrabad continues to amass,” Jafar answered.

“Shehrabad is our ally.”

“Was our ally.”  If he could just cast enough doubt in the sultan’s mind. It could be argued that their alliance was shaky since the death of the queen. Whether true or not, the sultan did not need to know. The kingdom needed to pay for those five years they’d left him to rot in their prisons.

“You would drag us into war with our oldest–”

“And you would allow your kingdom to sink into ruin for mere sentiment!”

“Jafar!” the sultan exploded.

Jafar stepped back. This was not how he would get his way, not now. But there was another way.

“Remember your place,” the sultan warned.

Rage boiled up in him. How dare he–? But he must play the part of a humble, loyal servant. “I apologize. Forgive me, my sultan,” he said calmly, making as though to leave. “I went too far.”  He stopped before the door. No one would see what he was about to do once he turned. He would make the sultan see things his way. He turned back to the Sultan. “But,” he said, summoning the hypnotic power of the cobra through his staff, “if you would only reconsider, I think you would see that invading Shehrabad is the right thing to do.”

From the first words he spoke, the sultan was enthralled by his spell. Shehrabad would be set upon before the week was past. The sultan would lead the troops himself, be killed by his “beloved allies.”  The half-breed princess would be his to claim, his to silence as he sat upon the throne.

Slow and laborious, the words fell from the sultan’s lips. “Invading Shehrabad is–”

“Invade Shehrabad?”

~*~*~

Jasmine looked between Baba and Jafar, shocked and horrified as she stepped into her father’s study. She had come to share with Baba the disturbing state Agrabah’s citizens were in. To hear talk of invading Shehrabad momentarily pushed those thoughts to the side. “Why would we invade Mother’s kingdom?” she asked, glaring at the vizier.

“We would never invade Shehrabad,” Baba said.

“But an ally in Skanland would improve our situation,” Jafar said.

“Yes,” Baba said. “If you would consider giving Prince Anders a chance.”

“To rule?” Jasmine asked. She rolled her eyes. “Baba, Rajah would make a better ruler.”

“My dear, I’m not getting any younger,” Baba said. “We must find you a husband, and,” he chuckled, “we are running out of kingdoms.”

Jasmine pleaded her case. “What foreign prince could care for our people as I do?” she asked. “I could lead, if only–”

“My dear, you cannot be sultan,” Baba said, “because it has never been done in the thousand-year history of our kingdom.”

Jasmine fought to keep her emotions in check. Every time. Every time the past was brought up. But just because it had never been done before didn’t mean it was forbidden. “I have been preparing for this my whole life. I have read every–”

“Books!” Jafar interrupted. “But you cannot read experience. Inexperience is dangerous. People left unchecked will revolt. Walls and borders unguarded will be attacked.”

“Jafar is right,” Baba said. “One day, you will understand.”

Jasmine felt her heart cracking, felt yet another sting of betrayal. Her eyes burned and stung. Perhaps if Baba was alone, she could properly speak with him, speak of her concerns for their people. But Jafar stood there with his smug smile, seeming to wrap Baba around his fear whisperings and conspiracies.

“You may leave now,” Baba said.

Jasmine turned and left swiftly. She hurried to a place just out of earshot of Baba’s study. Resting against another doorframe, she fought against the sobs confined in her gown’s corset. She wanted nothing more than to rule, to do everything she could to bring her people happiness. She wanted the best for her people, and she had yet to meet any suitor who would share her love for her people.

She stiffened, reining her emotions in as she half-sensed, half-heard someone behind her.

“Life will be kinder to you, Princess,” Jafar’s smooth words flowed over her like spoiled oil, “once you accept these traditions and understand that it is better for you to be seen and not heard.”

She could almost feel his breath upon her neck when Rajah growled, warning him away.  She heard him retreat, allowing her a little more freedom to release her emotions. She continued on to her room. She needed space. She needed air. She longed for Mother.

Safely in her rooms, she shut the door. Her gaze wandered about, looking at her maps and books. The testaments of what she had dedicated the vast majority of her life to. She refused to think it was for nothing.

She took a deep breath and slowly released it as a single tear escaped. Yes, she’d once again been drowned out, near broken. But she refused to cry or stumble. They were trying to cut her down, trying to silence her. It was enough to make her tremble at times, whether from fear or anger she was never quite sure. But these warnings to know her place only strengthened her resolve all the more that they would never silence her. She would make herself be heard. The only question was how and when.

Chapter Text

Aladdin stood among the crowds watching a fire dancer whirling his flaming staff through his fingers and over his shoulders. If the man didn’t have a regular job with consistent pay, he may have to ask Khaleel to see about hiring the man. But for now, that wasn’t his focus. His goal was entering the palace gates not a hundred feet away.

“Open the gates,” a man cried.

Aladdin casually swung Abu to the ground. “You know what to do, Abu,” he murmured. Not a minute later, the guard at the gate was sufficiently distracted. Aladdin slipped a dark cloak off of a man’s shoulders, a gold piece finding its way into the man’s robes. The hood fell over his head and hid his face in shadows as he walked beside the cart that rumbled through the gates.

He heard the guard call for the gate to be closed once again. Perfect. Safely inside and no one the wiser. He held his hand down for Abu to easily scramble up to his shoulders. In the courtyard he slipped into a deep shadow where he removed the cloak. He scrambled up a trellis and onto the rooftops.

He was officially in, but he had to find the princess’s chambers. He blew out a breath. He needed a disguise and plausible reason for seeking out her rooms. He had to hurry. He only had so much time. He glanced at the moon. If it wasn’t full, it was nearly so. Which meant that if Khaleel didn’t come looking for him tonight, he’d be coming tomorrow. He couldn’t afford to be late and thus worry his closest friend. Also, if he had even the slightest chance, he needed a token, not the bracelet, to ensure the validity of his promise to come again.

~*~*~

Within his chambers, Jafar removed his turban. “‘Remember your place, Jafar,’” he repeated quietly, only vaguely aware of Iago returning.

“Remember your place,” the parrot echoed from his perch.

Jafar whirled on him. “If I hear that one more time-” He allowed the warning to hang. It was always better to torture one with the unknown than with the known.

“Sorry, Master,” Iago squawked.

Jafar strode through his chambers, struggling to find his calm in the midst of his frustration. “Another petty insult from that small-minded fool. He sees a city where I see an empire.”

“Such vision,” Iago agreed, flying to alight on a large window’s sill facing the inner castle.

“Once that lamp sits in my hand,” Jafar continued, now calm, satisfied in his plans, he rested his hands on either side of the open book on the podium. “Then I shall sit on his throne.”  If he could not destroy the sultan by his death, he would destroy him by wedding his daughter. As much as he detested the thought of mingling his blood with that of Shehrabad, perhaps he would even force the sultan to watch as he–

“Thief! Thief in the palace,” Iago squawked, breaking him from his plans.

“Thief in the palace?” Jafar asked. That was impossible. No one could slip past the guards.

“That’s what I said,” Iago answered. “Thief.”

“What have you seen, Iago?” Jafar asked, stepping over the window.

“Diamond in the rough,” the parrot answered.

Jafar looked out. There, racing round the top of a lower minaret, a man stayed in the shadows. He jumped down, tumbling before climbing over the railing to navigate the top of a trellis. The vizier found himself impressed. Few street rats had the strength and agility to perform such feats, of which he had been one, many years ago. He could admire the man’s skill. But the reason of why he was here was the question.

Then on the quiet, night wind he caught it. Clear and sharp as crystal. A hint of roughness overlaying a brilliant diamond. Iago was right.

He grabbed his staff, slipping down to the lower courtyard the street rat was apparently heading for. In the shadow of the door leading into his private towers, Jafar caught sight of the street rat, now wearing a servant’s coat and hat and holding a tray of tea things. The guards walked right by his bowed head without so much as a glance. A pleased smile spread on the man’s face before he headed in the direction of the royal chambers.

“Who’s a clever boy?” Iago squawked.

“Follow him, tell me where he goes,” Jafar whispered. As the parrot flew off, Jafar turned away. He needed to find Hakim. Street rats shouldn’t be allowed to roam the palace.

~*~*~

Aladdin slipped through the halls under the guise of a simple servant who had lost his way to the princess’s chambers with some tea that she requested. He was actually surprised that it had worked. Finally he stood before the princess’s door. He stilled as he caught the sound of two women speaking. One was Dalia, but the other he did not recognize.

“There has to be something I can do,” Dalia said.

“A handsome prince wants to marry you. Oh, when will life get easier?” the second woman said.

“It’s not that I don’t want to marry.”

“You want to be sultan. But why?”

Ah, he was right. Dalia was actually the princess. Which could mean that the second woman was the real Dalia?

“You remember what my mother used to say?” the princess asked. “We would only ever be as happy as our least happy subject. If she saw what I saw today, she would be heartbroken.”

Aladdin’s heart almost thudded to a stop. What were the odds of his mother and the late queen of Agrabah being friends? Yet, those words also filled his heart with joy. She cared about her people. She wished things to be improved for them.

“She would also want you to be safe. And clean. I’ll draw your bath.”

“Jafar’s guards on every corner. Soon, he’ll be invading our neighbors, risking lives. For what? I can help. I know I can. I was born to do more than marry some useless prince.”

“If you had to marry a useless prince, you could certainly do worse than this one. He’s tall and handsome. And, yes, he’s a little dim. But you’re just getting married. It’s not like you have to talk to him.”

Aladdin almost laughed. The handmaid had an unusual sense of humor. He could get used to that. And Khaleel would probably fall in love, or at least be intrigued.

“But you’d prefer that boy from the market,” the handmaid said.

If the air had been slammed out of him, Aladdin couldn’t have been more surprised, or relieved. He hadn’t completely ruined his chances. He straightened before quickly knocking on the door. “Okay, smooth, cool, confident,” he muttered, turning so that he could make sure no one was in the hall. “You can do this. You’re a prince. Should be second nature.”

The door opened behind him. “Can I help you?” the princess asked, smooth and clear.

He turned and all thoughts and words escaped him. She was beautiful disguised as a handmaiden, but in her own chambers wearing a gold and turquoise gown and her hair about her shoulders, she was radiant. Even as her eyes widened in shock and a hint of fury. He was far from smooth, cool, or confident. Khaleel would slap him upside the head for the only thing that managed to come out of his mouth. “Tea?”

~*~*~

Jasmine didn’t know to be happy, furious, or shocked. “You.”  Aladdin stood before her door like a man who lost his wits. How dare he have the gall to show his face to her after what he did? “You!”  Didn’t he have better sense than to wander about the palace? If the guards caught him– “What are you doing here? Get in here, now!”  She dragged him in before he could protest. She quickly glanced each way down the corridor to ensure he hadn’t been seen before closing the door.

“I came back to return your bracelet,” he said.

“My bracelet? Where is it?” she asked.

“On your wrist,” he answered offhandedly, looking around.

Jasmine looked down, shocked to see Mother’s jewel gleaming where he had said. Almost as though it had never been absent.

“Not bad,” Aladdin said, bringing her attention back up. “I like what she’s done with the place. Loves books and maps, I see.”

“How did you get past the guards?” Jasmine asked. It was through sheer luck that she’d managed to do so today.

“Now that was challenging,” Aladdin answered. “But I have my ways.”

How was it that she felt herself falling for him yet again with his charms and roguish attitude?

“While the princess is out,” he continued, “would you like to go for a stroll? Have a little chat?”

She barely shook her head in shock. “You are unbelievable. You cannot just break into the palace and then walk around like you own the place,” she half-scolded.

He shrugged as though it didn’t bother him at all. “If you don’t own anything, you have to act as though you own everything.”

Jasmine could not help the smile that bloomed across her face. He was irrepressible, but she found that she liked that.

“So, what do you say?” Aladdin asked. “I did find your bracelet.”

Oh, no, she wasn’t letting him get away that easy. “You did not find it. You stole it,” she returned.

“Correction: the monkey stole it,” he answered.

“He’s your monkey,” she pointed out.

“He’s still just a monkey,” he protested.

Jasmine silently chuckled. Oh, she could do this all night. He may have her beat when it came to scrounging and scrambling over rooftops, but she was fairly certain she could beat him in verbal spar.

“Who ordered tea?”  Dalia’s voice interrupted them. Jasmine had almost forgotten that she was just in the other room.

“Uh,” Aladdin said.

“I did,” Jasmine said, slipping behind the young man. “For you, Princess Jasmine.”  Oh, please let her catch on quickly.

“Your Majesty,” Aladdin greeted with a low bow.

Jasmine quickly mouthed and pointed. “Boy. Market. Bracelet.”

“Why are you being weird?” Dalia asked, her face twisted with confusion.

The princess almost threw her hands up in frustration, but stopped herself just in time to be perfectly composed when Aladdin turned to her.

He looked at her uncertainly. Wait. Was that amusement hiding behind his nervousness?

She pushed the thought aside as he turned forwards again. She focused on Dalia again. She pointed to her bracelet. “Bracelet,” she mouthed slowly before pointing to Aladdin and back again. “He stole . . . .”

Realization lit up Dalia’s face. “Oh, I’m the princess, yes. And it is good to be me with all my palaces and wagons of gold things. And dresses for every hour of the day.”

No, there weren’t extra palaces. Jasmine wasn’t certain about actual wagons. Yes, they had definitely discovered that if Jasmine so wished she could wear a different dress every hour and not run out for roughly a fortnight. But, no one needed to know that.

Jasmine discretely spun her fingers round. She loved her friend dearly, truly she did. But, she was starting to hope that just maybe that stroll could happen, but it couldn’t happen with the “princess” in sight.

“Now it is time for my cat to be cleaned,” Dalia said, finally retreating behind the curtain.

Jasmine wasn’t sure how to interpret Aladdin’s expression when he turned to her. She smiled, shrugging. “She doesn’t get out much.”

“Mm-hm, clearly,” he said, setting down the tray. “So, crazy question but: if I were to say that I am secretly a representative for a prince who wishes to come calling in the future, what would you say to that?”  He was looking at her again, searching her face for she wasn’t sure what.

“I’d say it would be very bold of you to claim such things,” she answered. “Especially considering the possible consequences.”

His grin was so open, daring, and genuine. “But let’s just say that is the truth.”

“Alright,” she said, returning his smile. “In this hypothetical situation, you are secretly representing a foreign prince. For what purpose?”

“To ensure the prince’s safety when he arrives,” Aladdin said, “and to seek out if the prince’s affections have a chance of being returned.”

“You should forewarn the prince then,” Jasmine said, “she has a mind of her own and will not be bought by riches or parlor tricks. She loves a mental challenge.”

“And, if I were to ask what book she would wish to have more than anything in the whole world, what would that book be?”

“The Tales of Shehrabad.”  The title flew from her lips with hardly a thought. It had actually been ages since she thought of that book, though the remains still hid far beneath her pillows.

“The Tales of Shehrabad?” Aladdin repeated.

“Yes,” Jasmine answered. She quickly retrieved the charred remains from their hiding place. She hugged it to her chest. Most of the char, ash, and smoke smell had worn away, but if held close could still be caught. “The queen used to read from it each night,” Jasmine said, slowly approaching Aladdin again. He met her halfway but didn’t reach out until she half reluctantly offered the broken remains of those dear, childhood memories.

“Barely a week after her death, the princess threw it into the fire. Da–, I came in hardly a moment later and pulled it from the flames. Together the two of us beat the flames out, but it was already destroyed beyond repair.”  Jasmine had no idea why she had tried to destroy her mother’s favorite book. She hadn’t even realized what she had done until she heard Dalia’s sharp cry of shock. It had been terrible. She had only stared in horror before realizing that her friend had risked the flames. She could remember how her hands stung as she joined Dalia in slapping at the flames before they grabbed a couple cushions and smothered the blaze.

Aladdin tenderly held the book as though it was the greatest treasure in the world. He carefully opened the cover and gingerly turned some of the half-burned pages. Nothing but a few words were visible. The book had fallen open in the fire, offering an easy meal to the ravenous flames. If it wasn’t completely gone, the page was blackened and almost crumbling. Finally closing it, he looked at her, half-desperate, pleading, and heartbroken for her.

“I know someone who can restore this,” he said, tears shining in his eyes. “If you’ll allow me to have it, I promise that it will be returned to you whole before a week passes.”

Jasmine shook her head in shock and disbelief. “You’d have to be a sorcerer to fulfill that promise.”

She watched as he reached into a pocket resting over his heart. He clutched whatever it was tightly, as though he was about to reveal a portion of his very soul. Then he slowly held out his hand and unfolded his fingers. Two delicate rings hung by a gold chain. One ring was meant for a man’s finger, gold and inlaid with a blue opal. The other was a lady’s ring, gold and set with a blue opal between two blue topazes. “These belonged to my parents,” Aladdin said. “I have never parted with them, but I will offer them to you as surety of my promise to return your mother’s book to you.”

Jasmine’s heart almost stopped. In that moment, the carefree street rat who’d led her on a wild race from the guards in the market was gone. She wasn’t sure who he was. But his eyes mirrored her loss. Considered the two of them equals as he pledged the most valuable items he owned, both sentimentally and monetarily. Everything about him pleaded with her to trust him, let him try what he could to help.

She gently took the rings and chain they were attached to. She protectively held them to her. “I will protect them,” she promised. “But.”  She couldn’t hold back the warning. “If you don’t follow through, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I understand completely,” he said, his face and voice echoing the sincerity of his words. He looked at the book. “Do you have some spare cloth that I can wrap your book in?”

Jasmine nodded. She found a scarf of soft yet sturdy linen. She watched as Aladdin laid it out and then carefully, gently wrapped her book, shielding it from the elements and all harm. He then slid the package into an inner pocket of his vest.

He froze as he got ready to straighten. Jasmine hadn’t even noticed Rajah. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the bath?” Aladdin asked.

Jasmine was surprised when Rajah actually nuzzled her new friend. The tiger didn’t act vicious or protective at all.

“Servant girl!” Dalia called. “This cat isn’t going to clean itself.”

Aladdin looked up from scratching Rajah’s ears in an almost absent manner, as though he was fairly familiar with large cats. “But don’t cats clean themselves?”  He smiled, teasing. Like he knew a secret.

“You have to go now,” Jasmine said. She was fortunate to have gotten this long with him. She couldn’t risk his safety anymore.

“Oh, okay. But I’m coming back tomorrow night,” Aladdin said, even as she tugged him up and to the door.

“What?! No, you can’t,” she protested.

“Meet me in the courtyard beside the fountain,” he continued, as though she hadn’t spoken. “When the moon is above the minaret.”

She turned as he pointed to the moon. She felt a slight tug before her hair fell loose. She whirled in surprise.

“To return this,” he said, holding up her gold and turquoise clasp, giving her back the gold pin. “And give you word on your book if nothing else.”  His smile was almost daring. “Maybe even some pointers for the next time you and your handmaid switch roles.”  He winked. He then paused, reaching up brushing her hair back from her face. “I promise to meet you there.”  Then he was gone.

Jasmine stood, shocked silent. Oh, she didn’t consider herself a romantic, but she and Dalia had read enough tales in their younger years. A moonlit rendezvous with a handsome, mysterious . . . well he wasn’t a stranger really. And was it just her imagination or had he just admitted to seeing through their act?

She turned away from her door. She would need some time to think and sort this out. Oh, if Aladdin hadn’t stolen her heart this afternoon, he definitely had tonight.

~*~*~

Aladdin shrugged out of the servant’s coat, as he pulled off the hat. He tossed his head at Abu to join him again. He was riding on a cloud. He could hardly believe it. Dalia was really Princess Jasmine. Actually, if he hadn’t figured it out in the hall, he would have figured it out as soon as Dalia stepped into the room. He had a distinct feeling there was some hurried communication going on behind him, but Jasmine just acted like everything was normal. Almost too much so.

Then that unguarded moment. The damaged book weighed heavily in his vest. He was certain that Jephtha or Bartholomew could restore it to its original condition. His heart still ached from giving Jasmine his parents’ rings. But, he was sure it was no worse than what Jasmine felt surrendering her mother’s book to him. There was no doubt in his mind that her words were no idle threat. Her eyes had flashed, her face hard. There would be no second chance if he ruined this one.

He almost laughed when he asked about cats cleaning themselves. This was so obviously the first time they had ever switched roles. It honestly was a little better than the first time he and Khaleel had switched. At least they were the same age. For a human prince and a then immortal genie, it was a little difficult to pass themselves off as the other. But he fully intended to give them some tips for next time.

Now, in the hall he grinned, tucking the clasp away in his pocket. He’d actually gotten away with it. He had snuck into a foreign palace and found where he wanted to be without getting caught. “Can you believe it, Abu?” he asked in a darkened hallway. “The most heavily guarded place in all of Agrabah.”  He turned from looking behind and jumped.

The captain of the sultan’s guards, Hakim, he believed, stood glaring at him. “Evening,” he said coldly.

Abu scrambled back to burrow into Aladdin’s hood. “Evening,” Aladdin squeaked out. He coughed. “Evening.”  He could almost feel two more people closing in behind him. “Guards are behind me.”  He turned, forcing a wary smile. “Hello, boys.”

He inhaled sharply as they caught his arms and secured his wrists behind him. While not harsh or cruel, they weren’t gentle. Admittedly this wasn’t the first time Aladdin had been sent into a prison as a street rat. But that had never been in a palace. When arrested, it had always been in a marketplace. Khaleel would arrive, reportedly roll his eyes before going to the prison, and claim that Aladdin was an escaped slave of his. Aladdin was pretty sure that wouldn’t be the case this time.

He did have one backup plan. A royal signet ring that would get him out of any trouble with the law that he might find himself in. But he wasn’t willing to use it unless he had no choice. Like being sent to the chopping block.

“What’s going to happen to me?” he asked, focusing on Hakim.

“You’re to be taken to the desert. Your fate will be decided there,” the captain answered. He nodded to his guards.

Aladdin startled as a bag was pulled over his head. He struggled a moment in panic. But as his mind registered that he could still breath through the canvas weave, he calmed. He could make it. He could get through this. The end wasn’t here yet. He could still get out of this alive.

But he was still in big, deep trouble.

Chapter Text

Khaleel walked through the busy market. He scowled at the number of guards. He did not like this side of Agrabah. He’d be surprised if they stayed the polite length of time. If he could actually find Aladdin. “Kid, where are you?” he muttered.

He’d already checked with a trades woman by the name of Zulla. A street rat named Aladdin had been in the day before, but not today. A couple of the street vendors said that Aladdin had been seen running from the guards yesterday after a young woman reportedly stole from a bread stall. He hadn’t found anything since.

The former genie roughly sat on some lower stairs. He was going to smack that boy if he didn’t box his ears.

“Are you the one asking round about Aladdin?” a woman asked. She was darker skinned and larger than most women.

“I am,” Khaleel said.

“Maybe you should try his home,” the woman said. “I’m Oma. I’ll lead you there, but first.”  She gave him a hard glare that promised trouble if he didn’t say the right thing. “What do you want the lad for? He may be rough around the edges, but he’s a good one.”

“Merely to bring him safely home,” Khaleel said. “I’m a good family friend.”

Oma glared hard at him before nodding. “Fine, follow me.”

Khaleel followed her through various alleyways. “Dare I ask, how you know Aladdin?”

“I just so happen to be one of the reasons he’s still alive,” she answered. “He’s already edging on skin and bones as it is.”  As they passed into a truly deserted alley, she lowered her voice to add, “I figured he was some noble from the start. I never found gold after someone lifted one of my melons after he played the thief, and no street rat on these here streets has loose gold in their pockets without it disappearing in some frivolous manner. Not to mention it was pure and clean, not like some coins with bits of bronze or caked with dirt.”

“Did he actually say anything to you?” Khaleel asked.

Oma shook her head. “But I think that he suspected that I knew something. I’ve actually been waiting for him to search me out to try to convince me to accept a gold piece for the melon I gave him yesterday. But I haven’t seen him since he and his lady friend flew between a couple roofs.”

“Lady friend?”

Oma laughed. “Most fun the market has seen in a while. Personally, I wouldn’t be surprised if the girl was high born herself. Not many saw the bracelet Jamal tried to claim from her and Aladdin stole back, but they say that it was the most beautiful piece ever seen. Some older folks even said that it reminded them of a bracelet the queen used to wear. May her Majesty rest in eternal peace.”

Khaleel breathed deeply before slowly letting it out. “And Aladdin was running with this girl?”

“Apparently they were running together, but I haven’t seen any signs of them since, as I’ve told you. Here we are.”  She stopped in a dead-end alley. “You pull that rope and you can get in. I’m not sure how it works. It’s always already been done by the time I come by to check on him.”

“Thank you, Oma,” Khaleel said.

“You make sure that boy is cared for with a good, solid meal,” Oma ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,” Khaleel answered. As she left, he stepped into the loop tied into the end of the rope. Steps came out under his weight. “Alright. Let’s see what clues I can find.”

He jogged up the stairs and through the abandoned house. Up top, he discovered Aladdin’s temporary home. “Not bad,” he noted, taking in the canopy and various odds and ends. He stilled as he caught sight of the lute. Jephtha had told him about the prince taking the late queen’s lute with him. All the signs he was seeing indicated that Aladdin had left, but the lute showed that he had intended to come back.

“Oh, kid, what did you get yourself into this time?” Khaleel muttered. Mounting a landing that offered a great view of Agrabah’s palace, he whistled a short signal.

Jephtha flew in as a bird and transformed beside him. “What is it?”

“We might have trouble,” Khaleel said. “Ali hasn’t been seen since yesterday, and reportedly he was with a woman potentially of nobility.”

“What should we do?”

“Infiltrate every cranny and crevice, even inside the palace if it can be managed,” Khaleel said.

“Of course,” Jephtha said. “And what do we do if the prince has gotten in trouble again?”

“We’ll get him out of it of course,” Khaleel answered. “Even if I intend to slap him upside the head afterwards.”  Oh, yes. Ali was going to be in a world of trouble once Khaleel got his hands on him.

~*~*~

Aladdin barely struggled as he was half-dropped unceremoniously atop a sand dune. He hated riding a camel without his eyes. It made the motion sickness worse. He figured it was maybe midday by now. Khaleel was going to kill him. The bag was removed from his head. He looked around to see endless sand. “Where am I?”

“In a world of trouble, boy,” a smooth, persuasive voice said. A man dressed in black robes edged in red sat beside him. Something about him set the prince on edge. He didn’t feel right.

Aladdin couldn’t let on that he knew that the girl he met was a princess. “Is this about the bracelet?” he asked, retrieving his skullcap from Abu. “Cause, I didn’t steal it. The handmaid–”

“What was a handmaid doing wearing the queen’s bracelet?” the man asked.

“The queen?” Aladdin asked, trying to keep up his facade of a simple street rat. “No, she said it belonged to her–”

“Mother,” the man interrupted. The man looked at him, his smile feigning pity for Aladdin. The prince figured that the man couldn’t be more than a decade or so older than himself. He was a noble, possibly even a vizier if his ring could be a judge. His black beard was closely trimmed. There wasn’t really anything twisted about him that Aladdin could see. But he still felt a skin crawling sensation, not too different than what he felt around those who couldn’t find Ababwa on their maps.

“At least she told the truth about one thing,” the man continued, turning to look out over the desert again.

“Are you saying that she is the princess?” Aladdin asked. “I was talking to–”

“She was toying with you,” the man said. “It amuses her to meet commoners.”

Aladdin felt doubt stab his heart. Could it actually be? He pulled out the rich clasp. Could he have been wrong? No. It was not possible. Mother had wished that he find his bride by “Desert Moon.”  His heart told him Jasmine was the one from the moment her fingers plucked those opening chords. He had overheard her speaking to her handmaid how she wished for her people to live better lives. There was no posturing. She also would never have entrusted him with her most precious possession, most precious secret. This man was lying. Not about Jasmine being a princess, but about her nature.

“Did you actually think she liked you?” the man asked.

It took everything in Aladdin to keep from jumping when the man broke into his thoughts. He pushed the clasp into his pocket again. Refused to let himself be baited.

“What do they call you?” the man asked.

“Aladdin,” the prince answered.

“Aladdin. People like us must be realistic.”

“Us?” the prince repeated.

“You see I was once like you,” the man answered. He held up his hand, Jasmine’s hair clasp on his pinky finger.

Aladdin quickly searched his pocket, just to be sure it wasn’t just a trick. But it wasn’t. The man had managed to slip it out of his pocket without Aladdin ever noticing. Now he was certain of who this man was. He’d heard rumors of a man who’d risen from the streets to become a man of power. A man by the name of Jafar. When he’d first heard the rumors, he admired the determination of the man. Now, he wondered if there was something wrong about it.

“A common thief,” Jafar continued as Aladdin reclaimed the hairpiece. “Only I thought bigger. Steal an apple and you’re a thief. Steal a kingdom and you’re a statesman. Only weak men stop there. Either you’re the most powerful man in the room, or you’re nothing.”

Aladdin shifted uneasily. What exactly had he stumbled into now? He had the distinct feeling that he was about to be recruited for something, and he wasn’t sure how he’d escape if he couldn’t turn it to his advantage. His signet ring would be no use here.

“You. You stumbled upon an opportunity,” Jafar said. “I can make you rich. Rich enough to impress a princess. But nothing comes for free.”  And there was the bait. Something that any love-stricken street rat would bite.

Aladdin looked down at the clasp. He feared that Jafar was a danger to Agrabah, to Jasmine. He couldn’t stand by and allow something to happen to the princess and the people she loved. Khaleel was going to kill him for going it alone. “What would I have to do?” he asked.

“There’s a cave nearby,” Jafar answered. “And in it, a simple oil lamp. Retrieve it for me and I will make you wealthy enough to impress a princess.”  He turned once again to the disguised prince. “You are nothing to her. But you could be. Your life begins here, Aladdin.”

Aladdin took a deep breath. “I’ll do it,” he said.  Khaleel was so going to kill him for this.