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.