Title: Dreams Annulled (Not Without a Price)
Author: Starsaturn2
Rating: PG-13 to R
Genre: Violence, profanity, romance, drama, angst (well-rounded list, hm?)
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Disclaimer: I do not own Aladdin or any other characters in the series.
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Author's Note: This takes place after the third movie of Aladdin, Aladdin and the Forty Thieves, or whatever.
Jasmine and Aladdin are...*GAG* married. And.to say more would spoil a part of the storyline. This
story centers around Mozenrath and Sadira respectfully. Mozenrath still owns the Land of Black Sand
and a mysterious area called...well, to say more would also ruin the story. Comments and
questions are welcomed at starsaturn2@sailorjupiter.com. Oh yeah, I made up my own backgrounds
for Mozenrath and Sadira. If you don't like, well then don't read the rest. It's my fanfiction and what *I* say
goes. ^_~
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One even, pallid hand resting leisurely on an elaborate, ebony marble armrest the other gloved, sitting motionless in his lap. The glove, so embellished now. It was still black, with a tinge of gold around the wrist. But now it was bright, no, it glowed. Glowed a black light, a light speaking of situations better left unsaid and of impending calamites. It radiated a powerful energy that coursed through the owner’s veins unremittingly and steadily. Such a passionate and appalling and lethal energy. One so powerful with enough ingenuity and aptitude it could easily rule over the Seven Deserts.
But such a powerful object did not come without a price. He who had it proved to have battled intensely for it. He who owned it proved to have unattainable vigor. He, who fought for it, had been near death to achieve what was now theirs. The glove invested itself inside the body and mind of the person. He who had the glove did not see it as an object, but a piece of himself. Part of their blood. As it molded itself into the flesh of the possessor, it also fed on the flesh to the bone.
It also gave the one who owned it a mystifying and distressing aura. One that left them shaking themselves and frightened even the owner. But what was he to do, once you owned it became you, or rather you became it. It feasted on the power-hungry blood of its host, intensifying the desire to rule, to own, to control or destroy.
Getting rid of it was unfeasible, for you could not. Even removing it proved to be fatal. He had known, the fateful day he had removed his, he felt an almost unbearable searing through his body, as the glove glowed and shot back to him, latching to bone.
It became your destiny, your fate. Many who had owned it, feared it themselves. But what were they to do? When they removed it, they would almost certainly stare death in the face. Those who wanted it wanted nothing but a curse. And the power it gave was near eternal. With it, you could become immortal, but what did immortality mean if it meant giving your life to an object that controlled you?
Those who had it had genie-like powers. Cosmic, phenomenal powers. Those who had it became Walking Death.
It’s present owner, Mozenrath had known nothing of this, though, until it was too late.
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Dexterous hands and nimble, trimmed fingernails flew over the scrolls, searching particularly for an antique one. Finding the scroll with such attentiveness and speed, that would make an experienced wizard proud, she opened it slowly as not to rip the yellowing paper.
Discontinuing abruptly, she closed her dark-skinned eyelids briefly and touched the amulet on her thin silver chain. It was a aquamarine, a greenish-blue. It had a history of molding to the eye-color of the wearer. A reddish-purple light surrounded her, specifically, the amulet.
The sand shifted rapidly and aggressively and took the formation of a chair, which after she opened her eyes, as the reddish-purple in her pupils dissipated, she sat in, elegantly. Poised, she folded her leg under her and with her back straight, posture perfect, she smoothed out the paper.
Clucking her tongue as her index finger moved rapidly of a list of ingredients, she shook her head. Brushing back a strand of smooth, jet-black hair, she fixed her clothes. Now, clothes that looked rather expensive and hard to get. Clothes that once she only dreamed of. But now she would dream no longer. For now, she had what she had always wanted. No need to want for anything any longer.
Now she owned, instead of being owned, and what she owned was remarkable, considering that she had once been dirt-poor. The thrill, power, and money had been a pleasant one, once she finally achieved what she had always wanted. But not without a price. And it was a immense one. It had ripped her mind of its righteous morals. She had owned, yes.
But not without deception, force, carnage and manipulation.
It had not disturbed her, until times like these, when her mind wandered back in silence, thinking back to when she was nothing. When she had had nothing, knew nothing, needed nothing. When she was nothing. But her mind questioned her.
Was she less now, then what she had been?
Her magical charm did nothing except strengthen her craving for ownership. Her craving to own, to have a complete monopoly over something, or rather anything. The amulet had wanted her mind, in fact any mind. Any mind vulnerable to its vicious clutches, in which it could deepen the bond between it and the possessor. There the amulet would settle itself in the middle of the owner’s breastbone, where it gnawed into the underlying skin, grasping into it with striking force. Making sure to never leave it.
Many had mistaken it for a precious gem, once finding it, concealing it from anyone. Making sure it wasn’t stolen. Yes, while first seeing it, greed entered the mind of the unfortunates. A first glance at the gem was all it took for the future owner to be seized by the vices of greed, until she wound up, the gem implanted mid-chest perpetually.
The gem happened to consume the blood of the victim, or rather the holder. Turning the blood of the victim the reddish-purple aura that surrounded the jewel when activated. In a sense, the jewel became the wearer. Or, the wearer became the jewel. It was all too confusing at first, until it was too late.
She that had found the true meaning of this magnificent precious stone was cursed. For once you found the true meaning it was too late, it had embedded itself, connected to profoundly with the mind to be snitched. Unless a battle to the death. Killing the person with the gem over the control for it, started the cycle. Again. And again it would be too late. Again another life risked for immaculate monopoly over something. For avarice.
You could live lifetimes with it. You could be immortal; you could be more powerful-rumored, than a genie. A genie with semi-phenomenal cosmic powers. A genie with immortality and vitality and imaginative and clever mentality.
You could also be Sauntering Bereavement. Walking Death, if you would.
The owner, possessor, Sadira, had known nothing of its mind-alternating powers and its wretchedness, though, until it was too late.
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Checking her appearance in the mirror one more time, she blew herself a kiss. Then began cackling at her naïve appearance. She wasn’t innocent, she knew it. In fact, she was the contrary. She knew what she was about to do, the gem knew what she was about to do. In fact, the stone was the support behind her motive, or so it seemed.
Everything was in place, jeweled garnet tiara on her hair, which had been left down. Silvered earrings, midriff top, silvered slippers. Yes everything was in place for her plan...a monopoly on that city...that quickened her heart, Agrabah.
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Sadira nodded rather halfheartedly, as merchants began to offer her fish, dates, shiny fabrics, wood, precious metals and other goods from their orderly and compact wooden stands. Sadira declined, to each with mock politeness, showing sympathy she wasn’t sincere for. She smiled at each one flashing white teeth and leaving a small handful of solid gold coins at each stand that had given her a compliment.
She had heard the background voices, all too well. People gasping, pointing at her, and whispering about her. For she had been notorious in her other kingdom, where she had lived. It involved the kingdom’s economy. When she had became charge of the economy in the kingdom, money mysteriously dwindled, and the criminal had never been caught. But as soon as the investigation began, Sadira left. To another kingdom. Leaving the surrounding kingdoms with the thoughts and rumors of conspiracy or coincidence.
Never minding the opinions of others and going about her way, she continued. Things had gotten better, or so she thought. Since her routine of giving to the poor and the homeless caught on to the city, she began to destroy her ill-famed reputation. And restore it with one of goodwill and honesty.
But only she knew herself that it was all an act, an act to generate enough power to support her next exploitation. But first, she would try it in a different kingdom. And why not all places but Agrabah? It was the most familiar place to her, and secretly exploiting it would put her high above even her own standards. Yes, why not Agrabah?
Passing an alleyway, she saw a young group of children, the eldest barely in adolescence sitting on a box of crates, looking desperate. From their appearance they had not had a bite to eat in ages. The trio of children looked up at her frightened and paranoid.
Her heart went out to them, despite the pulsating disapproval of association to the children by her amulet, and she walked up to them, bending down to the eldest, on her knees.
'Hi how are you?” her warm voice radiated.
The young boy, obvious not used to being face a woman, let alone a wealthy and very pretty one, nodded, “Good.”
“Are you hungry?” she questioned quietly, looking up at all three.
The middle child, a blond girl with blue eyes and tanned skin, nodded shyly. The youngest, which had to be no older than four, or five, timidly gazed at her, he was embarrassed obviously. She smiled broadly and took action.
She held out a sack of gold coins. About a week’s salary for a middle-class man to the eldest. He spluttered as each child’s eyes grew round and huge.
“Here, it won’t buy much, but it’s enough to buy a small shack.” She gave them a caring smile, which could have said more than words ever could.
The boy grew teary-eyed and jumped into the arms of Sadira. Surprised, she laughed, and hugged him back as the youngest stared on, grateful.
“If you want,” she prayed to Allah, her place had not been found and was still in shape, “I’ll see a place for you, and come get you later on tonight.”
The youngest nodded, “I’ve never slept in a real bed before. Thank you.”
Sadira softened, wanting more than anything to take him home with her. To show him how she lived and to give him a soft comfortable bed, compared to the dark cold alleyways he was probably used to.
She stood, feeling more attached than she knew was out of harm's way. She wandered out of the alleyway, where she spotted the Princess and Aladdin, both in Royal garments making their way into the marketplace. She pretended not to heed them, as they saw her as soon as she, them, but had said nothing. She repositioned her tiara on her head and brushed past Aladdin, accidentally, on her way by them.
Unlike those in the city, whereas they addressed the Sultana and the Sultan, Sadira merely gave Aladdin a disinterested look and continued on.
Puzzled by this dark-skinned young lady with the aquamarine occludes that shined with a hint of condescension, he twisted his head, as he watched as she approached a stand with a young lady selling various fabrics and gems, a well-respected lady who owned shops in four separate kingdoms at least.
He had once seen that remarkable smile before, a smile dangerously sugary, which had once been on a juvenile face.
Sadira.
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She had seen her. She had looked different than what she had years ago. She looked...immaculate, perfect. She had no longer the street-rat air about her, but now one of elegance and cultivated. Why, even the way she dressed was different. No longer the ripped rags, and unsightly sashes, now she wore silvered slippers and satins.
How had she done all that? In these few short years? Part of her wanted to believe the rumors that had one-time been flying around the palace and the city. They had all heard of it. A beautiful dark-skinned girl, supposedly explicating a neighboring kingdom of a moderate amount of its profit.. A very deceitful and underhanded trick to gain affluence and high social position. But one Jasmine knew she was capable of.
After all, she had tried more than once to filch Aladdin from her, to no avail. The trust that could have been made had been destroyed and would forever be. And Jasmine knew that behind those eyes was a tinge of jealousy and envy. And she knew that from that first look at Sadira, that whatever she wanted she worked hard to get, an eventually it did belong to her.
What scared her the most was why was she in Agrabah, and why did Aladdin seem so fixated on her?
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“Jasmine, was that Sadira?” he inquired his wife, puzzled.
She nodded, happily pulling a pair of earrings up to her ears, trying to get Aladdin’s attention, which at the moment she feared she didn’t have.
Jasmine smiled and turned to Aladdin, “What do you...?”
But then she noticed, he was not there.
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“I do need the extra help running my shops,” the middle-aged woman smiled warmly.
Sadira nodded, “I could help you, I come from a wealthy family so I’m not skilled in much, but I could learn the trade.”
The woman leaned in eagerly, “A wealthy family, you say?”
“Oh yes,” Sadira boasted, “I have a bit of blue blood in my heritage.”
The woman looked like she would almost faint, “When would you like to start work for me?”
Giving the woman a pained _expression, she fabricated, “I’m visiting relatives here for a couple of days, then I have business in my kingdom...”
The woman nodded, obviously scheming.
“Sadira, how about I pay you some money to set up a stand in your kingdom. You can pay me back with your salary.”
Nodding vigorously, the lady with the aquamarine eyes smiled and opened her mouth to speak when, the Sultan touched her clad shoulder.
“Sadira, how are you?” he asked softly and confidently.
She stared straight ahead, as them gem glowed. The need to own, to have control over something Aladdin owned would make her colossal, adding to her assets.
“Yes, Aladdin.” She said more of a statement than a question.
This shocked the lady at the stand. Why was this mysterious, wealthy young lady addressing the head of their kingdom with such openness, disdain, and intimacy? Why, did the ruler have a clandestine concubine? She always knew riff-raff were up to no good, and now he was ruling the city? It was almost too much to bear.
Why would a respectful, well-bred lady from a good background like her associate with him? Unless she was even farther above his level, that she could cross that social boundary. Why, she did say she was from an opulent family. She never said they were that opulent. Her knees turned weak, wondering how much she could accumulate from this young girl, in just her city.
Why she could be rich, and get to the position of this pretty dark-skinned girl.
She watched as the Sultan, shifted comfortably, “It’s nice to see you here, in Agrabah again.”
She snarled and stared at him, with enough force and repugnance that even the legendary Jafar would have coward and cringed at. “Is it really, Aladdin?”
He nodded uneasily, “Sadira...I...?”
“ALADDIN!” Jasmine’s bright cheery voice broke through the silence.
Sadira turned to see the nice-looking princess bound over to him in an armful of silks. A silk trade she could easily own.
Jasmine bounded up to him and eyed Sadira with a friendly smile, but her eyes swam with suspicion. Sadira nodded her way, giving her a look of arrogance and disinterest.
“Hi Sadira.” She had a tinge of coolness to her voice.
She smiled back dangerously sugary, “Hello Princess Jasmine.”
Jasmine was shocked, she had just crossed the social boundary by calling the sultana out of her name, and in such a disrespectful tone she would have surely been condemned had the ruler been cruel enough.
“I am now Sultaness Jasmine. I’m sure you heard that in your kingdom. You were in the palace, there’s very little you don’t know of this kingdom. Likewise there’s little we don’t know about you.” She arched her eyebrows.
Sadira knew that if Jasmine said anything in front of this lady, her reputation would be again at stake, and her dreams of a monopoly annulled, but it was a risk she’s have to take.
“Why Jasmine, you’re Sultaness now? So you two did get managed to marry. Instead of just cohabiting inside the Royal Palace?” she had now insulted the Jasmine beside what was to be taken lightly.
Fire danced in Jasmine’s eyes, “Sadira, darling you were there at the wedding, I’m sure. At least I’ve lived in the royal palace all my life.”
Jasmine turned to find Aladdin, but he was gone.
Sadira smirked, “If you want to find him, check the palace. You must’ve ran him off.”
Dreams Annulled (Not Without a Price) by Starsaturn2