Chapter Text
“Sire, I have found a solution to the problem with your daughter,” Jafar declared, as he entered the throne room.
Sultan Hamed of Agrabah was engaged in building a tower of crystal animal figurines.
Jafar flicked his fingers, and magically forced the throne room doors to close. This caused the tower to collapse and shatter into thousands of rainbow pieces.
It was petty. but Jafar took great pleasure in the Sultan’s disappointment.
The Sultan looked up from the shattered mess. “Jafar, I was not expecting you this morning. I thought you were still on the diplomatic mission to Pascua.”
Jafar resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He had indeed been in Pascua, but not to bolster trade as the Sultan believed. Rather, Jafar had met with a sorceress who claimed to have knowledge of the legendary Cave of Wonders.
Deep in the desert was a mythical cave that contained an ancient lamp.
If Jafar could obtain the lamp and the genie within, his problems would be solved. He could wish for the throne of Agrabah, he could wish to be the most powerful sorcerer in the world. The third wish, he would use to deal with the one person in Agrabah who could threaten his reign. But whether he would use the wish to make Princess Jasmine his slave or banish her to the ends of the Earth was less certain.
The little shrew had always been a thorn in his side, and Jafar was quickly growing tired of her threats to have him beheaded.
Unfortunately, the woman in Pascua had been a charlatan with no knowledge of the cave or the lamp. It had merely been a bid for gold. Jafar had punished the conwoman, relieving her of her senses. She would no longer be able to sell false tales if she could no longer speak, see, or hear.
So it was that he had returned to Agrabah the previous evening empty handed. Princess Jasmine was still a threat to his plans, and he needed a way to deal with her.
The idea had come in the middle of the night, as the best epiphanies often did.
Jasmine was the only person in Agrabah brave enough to openly challenge him. But perhaps that strength of character could be used to his benefit. Perhaps he did not need to waste a wish eliminating Jasmine.
In fact, if he married the little shrew, he would become Sultan.
Truth be told, Jasmine was not unappealing. In fact, she had grown into a beautiful woman. Her hair was thick and lustrous, and would be breathtaking spread across his pillow. Her figure was exquisite, and Jafar had often wondered how she would feel pressed beneath him.
But every time she opened her mouth, Jafar longed to throttle her.
So he had never seriously considered making her his queen once he took over Agrabah.
However, it was an elegant solution.
Jasmine could not grant him phenomenal cosmic power, but she could give him a throne. Once he tamed her, she could give him endless nights of torrid pleasure. She could give him heirs, which would be necessary if he wished to cement his legacy in Agrabah.
He could still seek the lamp, but if it proved impossible to find, it would be wise to have an alternative plan.
He had spent the remainder of the night combing the legal records, trying to find a loophole in the marriage law. Finally, when the first streaks of red were illuminating the desert skies, Jafar had found his quarry.
Sultan Hamed’s family had been ruling Agrabah for centuries. They had forged the very traditions Agrabah was built upon, but evidently, Princess Jasmine was not the first headstrong princess to refuse every prince who came to call. During the reign of the first Sultan Hamed, for the current one was actually the third, a clause had been added to the marriage law, one that specified that if the princess of Agrabah is not wed to a suitable prince by her twenty-first birthday, she must then wed the Grand Vizier. If she refused, she would be sent across the sea, forbidden to return to the Seven Deserts.
It was the perfect solution, for Jasmine’s twenty-first birthday was a mere three weeks away.
All Jafar needed to do was present the addendum to his foolish liege and ensure that no prince arrived to steal his prize in the remaining time.
Jasmine had rejected nearly every prince of worth since coming of age. It was unlikely that there was anyone suitable remaining who could lay claim to her.
“Jafar, was there something in particular you came to discuss?” Sultan Hamed asked, bringing Jafar back to the present.
Jafar nodded and produced the scroll that bore the addendum. “As you can see, my liege, Princess Jasmine is not the first princess of Agrabah to resist marrying a prince. Jasmine’s twenty-first birthday is quickly approaching. If she fails to choose a prince in the remaining time, the law dictates that she must wed the Grand Vizier.”
Sultan Hamed gasped. “Jasmine would never accept you, Jafar. She loathes you with every fiber of her being.”
Jafar scowled. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, my liege. I will do my duty and take Jasmine as my bride should it prove to be necessary. As difficult as she can be, she is no fool. Jasmine will accept my hand if it is a choice between marriage or exile.”
Sultan Hamed chuckled dismissively, as though he believed his daughter would choose exile. “Do not fret over this, Jafar. There is already a plan in motion, although I thank you for the contingency, Still, it is unlikely that we shall need to act upon this addendum. Now go, I am expecting a visitor, and I require privacy.”
Jafar opened his mouth to protest, but Sultan Hamed waved a dismissive hand. Jafar seethed as he left the throne room, nearly knocking over a young female servant. The girl squeaked and scurried off like a terrified mouse when she saw the expression on his face.
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As Jafar spent the afternoon attending to matters of state, he could not help but wonder what plan Sultan Hamed had made for Jasmine that was supposedly under way. The man was a fool and incapable of any real strategy. His only advantage were the resources being a Sultan provided.
Later that day, Jafar slipped from his hidden tower room. He was due to meet with the council at sunset, and unusually, he was almost late for the appointment.
“Jafar!”
Jafar’s shoulders tensed. Jasmine’s voice was strident and irate. Now he would certainly be late for the council meeting.
He turned, forced himself to bow, and uttered the familiar servile words . “How may I serve you, Princess?”
“I know what you are trying to do, you treacherous snake,” Jasmine said, moving so that she was standing practically toe to toe with him.
“I do not have the pleasure of understanding you,” Jafar evaded.
“I will never marry you, Jafar. No matter what the law declares. You are far worse than any of the princes I’ve met. You are a scheming, traitorous, social-climber and when I am queen, replacing you will be my first act.”
Jafar could not help but admire the fire in her dark eyes, or the way her chest heaved as she vowed to destroy him. In her anger, she was a glorious sight to behold. “I was simply doing my duty, Princess,” Jafar said, gazing down at her. “There comes a time when we all must concede to our fates. Yours is to marry, and seeing as you have dismissed nearly every eligible prince in the Seven Deserts, I am likely the only man left who is willing to wed you.”
“You only want the crown, and I will die before I see you on my father’s throne,” Jasmine said.
It was too much to bear after the trying day he’d had. Jafar’s calm demeanor slipped away, and he took the princess by the hand and dragged her into a curtained alcove. He pressed her against the sandstone of the palace wall. “That is quite a threat, my dear. I assure you that when I take you as my wife, you will be made to watch as I am crowned and named Sultan. Then I will take you to my chambers and ravish you, as will be my right.” To emphasize his point, Jafar pressed himself against her and gripped her waist.
He could feel it as she trembled.
He took pleasure in her fear.
He dipped his head so he could hiss into her ear. “Soon our power games will come to an end, with you as my queen. There will be no prince to save you. Enjoy your last weeks of freedom, my dear, for all too soon, you will belong to me.”
“Burn in hell,” Jasmine spat as she glared up at him. Jafar was suddenly overwhelmed with an urge to kiss her, But he knew that if he started, he would be powerless to stop. She was too damn tempting, and her temper was only making her more appealing. In any case, he had kept the council waiting long enough.
Still, he wanted to lay claim to her in some small way, if only to make his promise sink in. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. Her skin smelled of cinnamon and azaleas, and it was flawlessly smooth against his lips. He savored the sensation longer than strictly necessary. “Good night, my beautiful desert bloom.”
Jasmine snatched her hand away, seething at his possessive appellation. Jafar allowed her to walk away from him. Soon enough, she would be dressed in scarlet and gold, walking towards him, and pledging to honor and obey him.
He merely had to wait a little longer.