Disclaimer: Aladdin is the property of D*sney, and I claim nothing but my own silly ideas.

Chapter 7

Fall in. Fallout.

Mozenrath focused on a sharp point in his memory, allowing the magic of the gauntlet to be drawn into the image, twisting and shaping it until he was deposited on the border of his kingdom. On the very spot he'd crossed twelve years earlier when he'd first arrived to be exact. On that day of terror and betrayal he'd seen the desert as death come to swallow him up and the Citadel as his personal hell. It was nearly impossible for him to backtrack through the various mindsets that had lead him to this moment of anticipation and restlessness to return, but he could recall that first impression with astounding clarity.

Clarity in any form was a rare commodity since he'd come to live under Destane.

As his body materialized he felt the hot, stinging agony of a sandstorm surround and consume him. He hardly needed more than a moment to cast a protective shield around himself and his familiar. Xerxes whined high above the surrounding gale, coiling his leathery length around Mozenrath's neck to speak into his ear over the howling fury.

"Angry. Sand angry."

The sorcerer could only hum his agreement with the assessment. All around their protective sphere the air filled with twisted, swirling clouds of dark gradient. One might have mistaken it for a normal storm, but for the shrieking magic that assaulting the wizard's senses from every side. The clouds rose in impenetrable walls before collapsing in on themselves to form masses of screaming faces shooting burning embers from their open mouths. On one side, he clearly recognized the shape of an ancient dragon tearing through the sky towards him on ragged wings, releasing a barrage of scarlet flames before crumbling back into dust against the wall of his spell. Below where they floated, dunes rose and fell like waves on the ocean. Crashing against one another, launching more particles into the over-burdened sky so they could float amongst their fellows on the tide of the primal tantrum that was ripping through the earth around him.

The wizard hardened himself against the exhaustion still dragging at his limbs and gathered his magic. Xerxes slithered down his left arm, trying to escape the icy haze that materialized around the gauntlet, frosting his clothing and causing the air inside the shield the crystallize into a pale fog. He summoned more power, dragging the magic up until even the air in his lungs had the metallic taste of ice. He felt Xerxes' uncontrolled shivers on his good arm, the tremors of his own pathetic body inching up from his ungrounded feet. Squeezing his eyes shut, he breathed in, and out. And released the shield.

The scraping agony lasted for all of the five seconds it took Mozenrath to fall to the ground and bury the gauntlet up to his elbow in the shifting sand.

The stillness that followed was nearly as disturbing as the tempest that preceded it. Xerxes released his death grip on Mozenrath's bicep, but did not relinquish the comfort of bodily contact. When the wizard opened his eyes, the surrounding dunes where stationary and silent. A gentle grey dust floated down from the air, barely disturbing the ground where it landed with no breeze to manipulate its passage.

He coughed, twice, and the sound echoed back at him from all corners of the haze.

Mozenrath gripped his skeletal fingers beneath the gauntlet, felt the surrounding earth shift rapidly to allow the movement of his hand, the aftershock of his spell still surging within. He flexed the leather, impressed with it's effectiveness, considering the his current weakened state. He slowly removed it from the ground, watching with a smile as the grains clung to the glove before releasing him with a tired caress.

A small breeze whispered, catching the sweaty curls on his brow and mumbling its confusion.

He'd gone.

He hadn't returned.

Mozenrath tried to communicate calm without relinquishing any of his personal feelings about his absence. The land's emotions were too primitive to understand the finer details of his imprisonment. He wasn't sure confident enough in his control over his temper to be sure that he wouldn't wind up whipping it into a fury that would destroy Agrabah and all of the problems therein. Which would, in turn, spread his resources too thin. No, Mozenrath decided to focus on calming the magic for now. The time for retribution was later, when he'd reestablished control over the main stretch of his desert.

The sky cleared enough to allow the weakest rays of morning sunlight to filter through the clouds. Xerxes slid off his arm, moving down to sniff at the ground uncertainly.

"Sand sleeping?" The eel turned its mismatched eyes to the sorcerer questioningly.

"For the moment." Mozenrath ran the knuckles of the gauntlet over the surface, watching as the ridges they formed twisted upwards before settling back down with an exhausted sigh. "We are too far out to know how much damage has been done."

Terror seized his chest, hitching his breath and making coherent thought something of a challenge. He couldn't loose the Citadel. He wouldn't.

The gauntlet fisted in the sand, his good hand reaching blindly for the comfort of his small companion. Xerxes rushed forward to push against the hand fondly, an affectionate smile on his face.

Xerxes was confident in his master. Master would solve the problem. Master always did.

A few forced inhalations later, Mozenrath straightened from his crouch to observe his surroundings. What should have been the clearly defined border of his outlands, materialized as a solid desert of black sand. He wondered at the change.

With a wave of relief he saw the silhouette of his tower to the northwest, jutting out against the shifting landscape in stubborn solidity. Reluctantly, his gaze slid to the south, towards his… allies, and the sea of black sand remained. No hint of gold showed even along the horizon line.

Anger flooded his senses, forcing out the rigidly imposed calm and attempting to blacken his mood. He shoved it back ruthlessly; aware of the tenuous control he was exhibiting over the elements. The nagging thought that the Princess had released him to stand as some sort of protector between Agrabah and the Black Sand was itching at the back of his mind. Of course it was only logical that her actions were entirely self-serving. Everyone's were, including Mozenrath's. The reminder of revenge waiting to be planned was just what the sorcerer needed to put a spring back in his step.

He lifted the gauntlet to his lips, blowing the clutched grains of sand into the air as he sped through the motions of his teleportation spell with practiced grace, setting the Citadel as his target.

Mozenrath found himself staring at the familiar doors seconds later, thankfully whole. He saw the evidence of his absence immediately as the paint and nearly all of the carvings were eroded down to the barest suggestion of their former opulence. He eyed the sawdust and paint flecks surrounding the base of the wall with displeasure. In his mind, Mozenrath began keeping a roster of all the repairs Agrabah would be funding. Starting with his gates. The marble of the outer wall seemed solid enough, but he tacked on a polishing just in case. No reason to waste a good thing, after all.

The air was still but for the dark clouds speeding across the sky, casting twisted shadows. Mozenrath remained cautious. The conspicuous absence of anyone to greet him confirmed his suspicions that things were not as they appeared. A city full of mindless drones did leave one with certain expectations in regards to protocol, after all.

"Xerxes," the eel came down from where it had been examining the wall to take orders, a ferocious tenacity blooming on its face, "scout out the city. I want a report on what's been going on."

Xerxes nodded fervently. Mozenrath turned away before adding as an afterthought, "And take some guards with you."

He felt the summoning spell slide through his fingers like silk, its purpose more familiar to the gauntlet than Mozenrath himself. After a few moments of silence he grunted, frustrated, and repeated the gesture with the same ease.

Nothing.

Somewhere over his shoulder, Xerxes was doing nervous loop-de-loops, obviously confused about how to proceed. The sorcerer knelt and drew the gauntlet over the sand harshly. In response a low moan echoed across the barren landscape and the non-existent breeze swelled and fluttered along the ragged edges of his former finery, grasping at his limbs in a possessive way that nearly frightened him. He kept his voice even.

"Where are my guards?"

An alien thought brushed against his mind, the brief image of torn limbs and wreckage caught in a dark cyclone flashing momentarily, a faded stab of anger echoing in his heart. Mozenrath's lips tightened, a hissed response escaping through clenched teeth.

"You will return them. Exactly the way they were."

He felt a slight abrasion against his already raw cheek at the command. Defiance. His annoyance snapped at the blatant refusal.

"You will return them, now. I will not ask again."

He punctuated this with a shocking release from the gauntlet he barely remembered casting. It's force pushed the surrounding presence out and away from him, the majority of the electrical discharge flying high into the darkened skies. The sand's consciousness retreated sheepishly and three disoriented Mamluks began digging themselves out of the sand at his feet.

He paid no mind to any but the Captain, a malicious smile spreading across his face.

"Good morning Destane. Have you been keeping an eye on my city?"

The corpse nodded so fervently Mozenrath was sure he could hear the stitches coming loose and gestured for it to cease and desist. He circled his master's doppelganger thoughtfully, rubbing a hand down his cheek and suppressed a cringe at the length of the course hairs he found there. He really needed to shave and bathe. However, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a perfect opportunity to put the old bastard in his place.

"Is that so?" he drawled. The corpse stiffened, rotting joints creaking loudly in his ears. Mozenrath reached out with careful deliberation, watching the monster's eyes widen with fear as the gauntlet grew icy claws that gleamed in the low light.

Moments later it was prostrated on the ground in humble servitude, begging for forgiveness with a wordless show of supplication. The master was unmoved by it's plight. Light flashed across his vision as he struck, ripping across the paper-thin skin of one cheek and causing the creature to shriek in agony.

"That is a lesson in honesty," the muscles in his face tensing at the irony of the situation, he focused on adjusting the glove. "You will remember who is the master now, and not attempt to deceive me again."

The mamluk that was once the most powerful sorcerer in the world looked up, half it's face hanging in tattered strips from yellowed teeth and bone, and nodded the affirmative.

Bored with the pathetic display and temper exhausted for the time being, Mozenrath banished the creature to the dungeons to be repaired at his convenience. One clipped command sent the other two teetering off after Xerxes to patrol the city.

A push from the gauntlet and his frayed wards gave way; swinging the mutilated doors out and welcoming him back into the embrace of his palace. He strode forward with purpose, his defeats and despairs a hundred thousand miles away as he reclaimed the site of his greatest victory and the seat of his power.

There truly was no place like home.

The Princess guided the Magic Carpet to land on one of the sloping roofs overlooking the palace wall. She inched her feet along the cracked and uneven tiles carefully before choosing a seat that afforded her the best view of Agrabah's main thoroughfare. Then she waited.

To some, it may have seemed a boring exercise, but Jasmine could not have been more thrilled for the opportunity to simply watch. A childhood filled with lonely afternoons had forged her into a keen observer of others with a distinct reluctance to engage those outside of her personal sphere. Jasmine accepted that loneliness was a part of who she was, but she never missed an opportunity to see what life was like for those who weren't bound to the strict rules of the aristocracy. She allowed herself to be drawn into the drama of the commoner's world, fabricated histories swirling behind her eyes as she constructed understanding from the seemingly random comings and goings of the market place.

Somewhere underneath her excitement a nagging guilt said she should not have come back alone. That the others would worry for her safety. She ignored it. Hasim and the guards would have seen her traveling in the direction of Agrabah and known she'd gone on ahead. Carpet was not so fast as to escape their notice. The rug in question was lounging along a clothesline to her right, quite inconspicuous but for the contented sighs that rolled down it's length as it bathed in the noonday sun. She smiled at her conspirator. They had both obviously needed a break after the turmoil of the past few hours.

An explosion of air forced it's way out of her, fingers scraping down her scalp and face in frustration. She couldn't make sense of Mozenrath. One minute he's casually threatening to destroy the world, as she knows it, the next, he's claiming her as an ally to help him with some magical problem.

The man was obviously insane.

Jasmine recalled the look of excitement on his usually apoplectic face with a myriad of confusing emotions. She tried to reconcile the dangerous magician from her battle with the stoic, sarcastic boy she'd negotiated with the previous night. But every time she reached a halfway logical explanation for his behavior the sight of his smile would flash across her memory. The memory of the change in his demeanor as he assumed the mantle of scholar.

Speaking of magical problems.

A shiver wound it's way round and round her spine, drawing her attention to the little discomforts she was hardly used to bearing. Everything from the sweat on her brow to the dirt under her nails made the Princess want to tear her skin off to be clean again. She shifted on her uncomfortable perch as a loud ruckus from below drew her attention.

A tight smile wound across her face when she recognized Farouk's Fruit Stand as the source of the commotion. A small, vengeful part of her was glad that the man he was currently arguing with, a melon grower by the looks of his produce, seemed to have no intention of giving in to the foul grocer's demands. She gripped her wrist in recollection and, in her mind, began weaving a tale about rotten melons that would drive Farouk out of business. After which he would fall upon foul and desperate circumstances, causing him to come to her on his knees, begging for help. Which she would, after an appropriate length of time, grant. Her fantasy was so engaging, that time floated by without her notice.

For nearly two hours the Princess and the Magic Carpet reclined above the unknowing heads of the merchants as they went about their daily lives. Until, finally, she heard the loud proclamations of the royal processional approaching. Catching the thunderous look on the Royal Vizier's tanned features, Jasmine decided it was time to return to her duties.

"Jasmine! You're alright!"

Her father jumped down from his throne, missing several of the steps and sliding down on the soles of his shoes in his haste to be at her side. In the next instant she was leaning over, crushed in his embrace as he tested her current state of health for himself. She smiled and floated in his warm affection for several moments before he released her and addressed the guards with the same enthusiasm.

"Oh, thank you for taking care of my daughter, gentlemen! Make sure to stop by the royal treasury before you leave to receive your bonuses for a job well done. Yes, very well done indeed." She shot Rasoul a meaningful glance as he turned to follow the others out. He wouldn't be stepping foot on the same floor as the treasury any time in the near future, not if she had anything to say about it.

Which she did.

Hasim moved from the back of the processional to the Sultan's side without delay. He was dressed in another set of snappy robes, which were, unlike his former garments, dust and camel odor free. Her father turned on the man with his mouth set in a familiar familial expression of displeasure.

"What on earth were you and the counsel thinking? Sending my poor, defenseless daughter into the desert like that! She could have been killed! From what Aladdin tells me, this Mozenrath fellow is extremely dangerous. I had no idea the extent of his treachery when I agreed to set him free! An alliance is absolutely out of the question!"

She felt the glow of her success fade at her father's words. He was changing his mind now? After she'd accomplished his impossible task and gotten the sorcerer to agree to the terms? She was overwhelmingly furious at her fiancé for worrying her father while she was away. He wasn't a young man, and in less than perfect health. How could Aladdin have caused him so much anxiety? Jasmine clenched her teeth. Hasim was complacent as ever, though perhaps there was a tad more supplication in the way he addressed her father than her.

"Your Majesty, the Princess' presence was necessary so that she could express her apologies to Lord Mozenrath for her behavior." Jasmine refused to rise to his bait. Compared to the sorcerer, Hasim's reproachful commentary was almost teasing. "Remember there were several reasons we sought out an alliance with him in the first place and having the benefit of a royal representative was what enabled us to be successful."

Her father's reactions shifted so rapidly that she found herself unable to remember how he'd become so exuberant in the wake of his anger. He practically beamed at her in response to the Vizier's words.

"So, then, you did it! You really did it!" He hopped as he made his way over to one of the stone-faced guards that flanked the throne. The Sultan poked a chubby finger into the vest of the man in front of him.

"Did you hear that?" He turned to address the mostly empty room.

"My daughter convinced the sorcerer to let us pass through the Land of Black Sand! We're going to be able to re-open negotiations with the Northerners! Oh, just wait until I contact the Sheik of Kaput! He is going to be so thrilled!"

Jasmine's heart swelled with pride at his recognition, but logic held her back. He still had no idea of the cost of Mozenrath's cooperation. She discreetly eyed the royal vizier and found him staring straight at her, a look of bland obstinacy on his face.

Obviously he had no intention of helping her out with the telling.

Jasmine sighed heavily.

No place like home.

It was sunset before Aladdin finally showed his face. By that time Jasmine's fury had simmered down to Luke-warm displeasure after spending half the day explaining the conditions of Mozenrath's cooperation to a shocked audience consisting of her father and the senior members of his staff. Defending her actions was not something she'd been prepared to do and the Princess feared she hadn't performed to her reluctant mentor's standards. It was difficult for her to remain angry with Aladdin when the furious activity of the past few days was behind her and all she felt was bone-deep exhaustion.

The processional that entered her rooms after dinner was full of anything but the worry-plagued fear mongers she'd expected. Jasmine might have just returned from a day trip to some exotic oasis for all the concern her companions displayed. Instead, they carried on as if some great victory had just been won. Her heart lurched in enthusiasm, hoping and hating the thought that they might be proud of what she'd accomplished. A part of her reasoned that they couldn't know all the details and she dreaded a repeat performance of this afternoon.

Her eye twitched, she rubbed it soothingly.

Aladdin greeted her with the kind of wet, smacking kisses she'd never been fond of and returned to the discussion he'd been having with the others before their arrival with barely a word spoken to her.

"So anyway, we get there, and all the traders are holed up in this cave, refusing to let us in because they think we're "sand monsters". Now they'd been there a while and supplies were running low so Genie thought…"

The jinn in question took over at this point. "Why not magic them up some dinner? That ought to soften 'em up." Aladdin was quick to jump back in when Genie paused to conjure a chicken leg as an example.

"Only it doesn't. As soon as Genie lets the magic fly, all the traders turn on us with whatever weapons they've got and try to run us out into the sandstorm." He turned to her then, flashing a smile.

"It's a good thing you took carpet with you Jaz. He wouldn't have been able to make heads or tails in that wind. Better Genie took us."

Jasmine nodded as if she knew what they were talking about. When Aladdin moved back to the others she decided her involvement was concluded and poured herself another glass of water to sip as he continued. Not talking was a blessing in itself and the softest suggestion of sleep was tugging at her. She listened to the rhythm of Aladdin's speech for a few minutes before something occurred to her. She returned the glass to the table with more force than she'd intended.

"Wait a minute. What do you mean 'It's better I took Carpet'? What have you been up to since I left?"

The scene around her grew very still, Aladdin caught in some violent pose probably meant to demonstrate how he'd bested some sand monster and everyone else caught indefinitely in the realm of bated breath while their need for air began to slowly assert itself.

Iago was the first to react, as usual.

"What! You mean you don't know? So much for palace gossip! Ya know, I never thought being royalty meant you could be that far out of the loop. I mean come on! What happened to good old-fashioned sp-"

He was silenced by Aladdin's grip on his beak, which Jasmine was grateful for. Something about the bird's tone was setting her teeth on edge. He posed yet again, broad stance, arms crossed, cocky smile firmly in place, before revealing his secret.

"Me and Genie went looking for the missing traders and we found them. Just got back half an hour ago."

Jasmine practically jumped to her feet.

"H-how many? How many did you find?" Her heart was beating like a drum, his enthusiasm finally catching.

Aladdin took her in his arms, bestowing another sloppy kiss before looking her in the eyes with barely contained glee.

"Forty-seven."

Her excitement died. Her voice was soft and reluctant to respond.

"Forty-seven? Are you sure that was all? The manifestos documented almost twice that number."

Aladdin didn't look away or flinch, to his credit. His gaze settled into something like necessity, mouth retracting to a determined curve of optimism.

"Forty-Seven. We counted them ourselves when we presented them to your father. I thought your meeting with Mozenrath was the perfect distraction to help us slip behind enemy lines. And it worked."

She tried to retain her lighthearted expression, tried to feel something other than horror at the lives lost, but Jasmine knew she failed. There were some things life simply hadn't prepared her for yet. Aladdin's calloused thumb trailed down her cheek, catching a tear she didn't realize she'd lost. His mouth contorted into an almost smile as his brow softened.

"Jasmine…"

Over his shoulder, she caught the jinn's gaze, that yawning chasm of eternity, and his solemn nod that told her this was the way of the world and not a reflection on her.

But the pain weighed on her just the same.

Her friends allowed her to fade into the background, Rajah's comforting warmth on her thigh, the soothing tones of their banter in her ears. No one seemed to care about the outcome of her mission, and she couldn't say she blamed them after hearing Aladdin's exciting recounts of his secret mission. As usual, her fiancé had managed to find a direct solution to the problem that didn't require politics or cunning. Once again he'd proven himself the hero and her the decoy damsel.

Too tired to be properly angry with this or any of the other offenses leveled at her in the past 48 hours, Jasmine allowed herself to sink into the upholstery of her mother's divan, conscious thought a thing of the past as sleep embraced her.

.

.

.

She awoke a few hours later as Aladdin gently shook her arm. The lights were low in the late hour and something antiquated in Jasmine said he should not be in her rooms at this time. Did he want to expose them to the ridicule of the public? She sniffed her nose and stretched, her neck stiff and uncooperative. Aladdin offered her a glass of water, and she downed it quickly. After all the talking she'd done over the past few days the Princess felt as if she'd brought the desert back in her throat.

The water was a welcome relief.

He sat beside her and laughed half-heartedly at her gusto.

"Yeah, the desert has a tendency to suck the life out of you… How are you feeling? Apart from thirsty, that is… I know it couldn't have been easy for you, making a deal with that murderer…" He trailed off with a growl that disturbed her more than his thinking of Mozenrath as a murderer.

They didn't know much about the sorcerer's shortcomings outside of his fetish for kidnapping and tendency towards threats. What had gotten into Aladdin?

Her face must have displayed her concern because a moment later he pulled back from the precipice of anger.

"I'm fine. Tired. It was a lot to take in. Mozenrath's world view is very… harsh."

Aladdin shot up from his seat to pace in front of her.

"Well it should be, considering that desert of his. You should have seen it Jaz. The storms… The monsters… It was horrible. Those traders are going to remember that place for the rest of their lives. I'm going to remember it! We almost didn't make it out."

Jasmine felt his pain for the people he'd saved. She tried to steer him away from the hurt and anger.

"How did you survive? Was Genie's magic more powerful than the sand?"

His reply was solemn.

"No."

Jasmine gripped the edges of the couch.

"When the traders forced us out into the storm, we thought we were goners. Twisted nightmares were coming at us from all sides. Genie couldn't hold his shield. But then, without any warning, it stopped. By the time we'd hiked to the mouth of the cave again, everything was so still you'd have thought there never was a storm."

She didn't reply. Her head was swimming, trying to make sense of it all. Aladdin placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I didn't want to wake you yet, I think you need your rest, but Genie said you'd want to see this." His face transformed into a devilish smile. "Do you want to find out if we managed to trick the tricky wizard?"

Jasmine answered with a sinister sneer of her own.

"Oh yes."

.

.

.

Some half discovered curiosity about magic prompted her to ask increasingly detailed questions on how the spell was supposed to work during the time it took the jinn to clear her vanity of all possessions. Genie was more than happy to explain the basics in an airy, detached manner that suggested he found the entire task overwhelmingly simple, and far too complicated for his human companions.

Jasmine was beginning to suspect that arrogance was a side effect of magic use.

"Well Princess, to put it simply, I put a modified tracking charm on the staff. As soon as it made contact with Mozenrath the spell should have attached to him, hence the reason why no one else could touch."

He said this while holding a staring contest with his reflection in the mirror, reaching out every few moments to flick an invisible piece of lint away from the glass. She was still unclear as to how rearranging her room was going to help them spy on the sorcerer. She vocalized this with controlled annoyance.

"Patience Princess. Rome wasn't built in a day."

"Where?"

"Never mind, now if I could just… find… AH HAH! There you are! You're a clever kid; I'll give you that. But I betcha didn't expect THIS!"

The Genie abruptly put two fingers into the surface of the mirror up to the second knuckle and pulled. When he moved his hand away, Jasmine felt disoriented. The reflection didn't match the interior of her room. Even in the darkness covering the mirror scene, she could see the outlines of alien furnishings with; she repressed an unladylike snort of amusement, a tendency towards spiky embellishments.

"Amazing Genie! You did it!" came Aladdin's voice over her shoulder.

Somewhere to the left, a window was sending a weak column of moonlight across the floor. It's path disrupted by a number of clothing articles, including a lump of blue turban, one black boot and a red sash. Jasmine pulled back when her breath misted on the glass, distorting the image. She turned back to Aladdin and Genie with her face the same color as Iago's. When had she gotten so close?

"Ok I'll admit it's impressive, but, where's Mozenrath?" She deflected.

Genie fixed her with an I-already-told-you stare and pointed back to the mirror.

When she looked back a small, but distinctively intentional moment occurred in a darkened corner containing the largest piece of furniture. Her magical voyeurism grew bolder when she realized that there was the faint sound of snoring vibrating along the glass. Jasmine's nose was nearly touching the image when a pale foot emerged into the moonlight, causing her to jump halfway out of her skin.

There was Mozenrath, all right. Sound asleep and having a vivid nightmare, if his thrashing was anything to go by. The reality of her accomplishment hovered around her head, refusing to absorb. Genie was patting himself on the back for his ingenious spell work while her fiancé twirled her in the air.

"You did it Jasmine! Thanks to you and Genie we're going to be able to keep an eye on Mozenrath and make sure he doesn't hurt anyone ever again!"

Still not entirely convinced they'd managed to pull the wool over the sorcerer's eyes and too tired to point out how grandiose Aladdin's predictions were, Jasmine accepted their praise with cautious optimism…

Before shuffling the pair of them out of her room so she could get some rest.

A/N- Happy New Years everyone! This chapter is extra-long, to make up for my extended absence. You guys are so super awesome and I thank everyone for their encouraging comments that helped me find the energy pick up things where I left off.

Which brings me to a point I am looking for help on. This is my first uploaded story and I am, unfortunatly, lacking a beta. Re-reading my chapters has only illustrated to me how difficult it is to proof read your own stuff and I am wondering if there is anyone out there willing to put up with my atrocious errors? If you are, just message me and I will be so grateful! Plussss... I'll be able to get stuff posted faster!

Now, this chapter is kind of introducing some things that will be important throughout the story, lots of little plot points here and there. Please let me know if anything was too confusing.

Just one more giant, huge, mega-hug for all my wonderful reviewers! Thank you for taking the time and for all of your flattering comments. I literally blush like a school girl every time I read them.

Next time... Mozenrath deals with homeland security, Jasmine gets a crash course in the real life challenges of ruling, and Aladdin finds a new obsession. See you there!