Is this it? The Hemophageress has returned, but the little sh*t she is, she is back with another damn story. I apologize for the inconveniences I have caused for all of you. _ I'll be updating once a week (and I promise you this) because, for once, I am ahead of schedule! I leave a whole week for updates because as high school begins to draw to a close in the last year and a half, it inundates its students with work. Emphasis on students who take all 7 classes with an all AP/college curriculum, such as me. Enjoy this slow burn, slashy, politically heavy fic!

All was peaceful in the capital city of the Agrabah Sultanate in what would be the south of modern day Saudi Arabia. As usual, the heat was intense, and the streets were crowded with throngs of thin people dressed drably. There were at least a handful of stands lined up along one of the streets, people crowded around them to barter for the cheapest price of food.

A short, lithe boy weaved his way through the crowd, a worn linen tunic hanging loosely from his fragile form with only a frayed rope to hold it at his waist. His head was turned forlornly downwards as he wrapped his dirty hooded robe tighter to shield himself from the relentless sunlight. His calloused feet donned in worn, fraying scandals dragged themselves as he walked through the street.

Unbeknownst to the people around him, who all assumed he was a poor homeless child about to ask others for their food, the boy's lidded dark green eyes scoured the stands discreetly for his next meal.

He never expected anyone to give him anything. He tried a few times when he was younger, but he had come to the realization that the peasant population also suffered from hunger and had families to feed. There was nothing they could ever spare, however they were sympathetic to his plight and offered him few morsels and clean water.

It was never enough. The boy was not the only homeless child in the city, and as the oldest, he had an obligation to them to uphold.

The boy ducked into a crowd of people surrounding a bakery stand, acting as natural as possible. He watched the human interactions silently, waiting for the right moment.

His heart raced with anticipation. His fingers twitched in agitation.

It was a long moment, but the business owner finally engrossed himself in a heated debate with a customer over the "overpriced" bread. The boy snatched two loafs of bread and stashed them into his too-large tunic and darted away at a fast walk. The other customers parted for him.

The business owner at that moment realized what had transpired and cried out, "Thief! Someone, chase him!"

"Run, boy!" A voice advised from within the crowd. "The city guards are at the end of the street!"

The boy burst into a sprint, calling out behind him, "Thanks!"

"Catch him! He's headed east!"

The boy cursed under his breath before disappearing into an alleyway like a shadow.

The light was dimming, and the air was becoming restless. Inside a heavily worn down building on the outskirts of the city, five children waited.

"I'm hungry…" A small girl whimpered. Her long matted black hair fell in her face and hid a dark colored mark covering half her face as she nervously chewed at the ends of her hair.

"Basima, we all are. And stop chewing on your hair; it's gross and bad for you." An older boy, about thirteen in age, chided. "Aladdin should be home soon."

"What if he got captured, Abu? He should be home by now!" Another boy, a little younger, speculated.

"Stop it, Danyal!" Abu huffed. "Aladdin's too smart to be captured. He can read, you know."

"That's book smart, not street smart." Basima pointed out.

"Shut up, Basima." Abu rolled his eyes. "Aladdin's fine. I think."

"You think?!" Danyal panicked.

Abu didn't dignify that with an answer, although he too was unsettled by the lack of Aladdin's presence.

It was then that a sound of shuffling came from the curtain-covered doorway abruptly ended their conversation. The children silently listened for more sound.

"Hey." A tanned hand pushed aside the ragged curtain as their awaited eldest entered. Tired dark green eyes greeted all of the children as the eldest boy smiled lazily at them.

"Aladdin!" Basima, Danyal, and the other younger children rushed toward the boy and wrapped their small, emaciated arms around him. Aladdin contently hugged them in return, his grip tight and protective.

Abu glared at Aladdin, arms crossed over his chest as large brown eyes looked on with disapproval. He demanded, "What took you so long?"

Aladdin's expression was withering as he replied, "Is that how you speak to your elder?"

"You're only sixteen!" Abu objected.

"And three years older than you." Aladdin pointed out. He reached out an arm and pulled Abu into a hug, "Come here, you fool."

Abu grumbled when Aladdin ruffled his hair, but begrudgingly accepted the affection. "You aren't this affectionate."

"What are you talking about? I'm like this everyday." Aladdin scoffed. At Abu's disbelieving glower, Aladdin added, "I had to take a new route to escape the city guards."

"Why do the guards hate us?" Basima asked.

"They're just doing their job." Aladdin sighed as he pulled away from the group hug. He strode toward the dusty table and wiped the surface clean with a rag before removing the two stolen loafs of bread from his tunic and setting them down. He added venomously, "The sultan holds everyone's money very dear to his heart."

Both Abu and Danyal frowned at Aladdin's statement, understanding the implications of his words more than the others.

"But that money doesn't belong to the sultan." Basima pointed out, her face scrunched in bafflement.

"No, it doesn't. That's why there are taxes." Aladdin said dryly as he cut the bread into even portions with an old, slightly rusted knife.

"What are taxes?" One of the youngest children, Asim, inquired.

"Taxes are part of the law. They're used so the sultan can take money from the citizens." Abu explained before Aladdin could, noticing how Aladdin's grip on the knife tightened.

"Why does the sultan take money? Doesn't he have enough?"

There was a moment of silence, as all of the elder children were uncertain of how to answer.

Aladdin said quietly, unwilling to speak his true thoughts on the matter, "That is a good question."

The truth was, Aladdin knew exactly the answer to that. The sultan was selfish. Why Allah has allowed this corrupted sultan to rule, he did not know. Aladdin wasn't even sure if Allah was truly there, but he didn't want to shake the children's faith.

"Dinner is ready." Aladdin ended the conversation before it could continue. The children crowded around the table as he passed out even portions to all of them. The children eagerly bit into their portions, but Aladdin did not begin eating.

Abu, noticing this, questioned the elder, "Why don't you eat?"

"I'm not hungry yet." Aladdin shook his head. He straightened and entered the staircase leading up. "I'll be upstairs if you need me. Abu, make sure everyone gets the right portions."

"I will." Abu nodded, eyes suspicious as Aladdin disappeared up the stairs.

Aladdin quietly sat on the ledge overlooking the city open to the cool night air. His focus was on his inner forearm as he carefully dragged a damp rag across a cut, grimacing as he did so.

The teenager jumped in surprise when Abu materialized behind him and greeted, "Aladdin."

"Abu! Stop scaring me like that." Aladdin chided, setting the rag down. Abu rolled his eyes.

"You're just getting old."

"...Shut up." Aladdin muttered.

"I brought food." Abu said, gesturing to a piece of bread he had saved for Aladdin. He examined the elder before noticing the cut on his arm. "You're hurt!"

"It's not bad. I just need to bandage it up." Aladdin shrugged.

"'Not bad?'" Abu scowled. "It could get infected. You need to clean it with alcohol. You taught me that, remember?"

"Which I deeply regret." Aladdin dramatically sighed, to which the younger boy smacked him over the head. "Ow!"

"Idiot!"

"Hey!" Aladdin frowned. "Besides, we don't have any wine."

"We do." Abu countered. He searched briefly in another area of the room, behind a wobbling shelf and pulled out a large flask of wine.

Aladdin's eyebrows shot to his hairline, "Where did you get that?"

"I stole it. Like you steal food for us." Abu said, grabbing Aladdin's arm once he popped open the flask.

"I don't want you- Any of you- to be like me." Aladdin chastised. "Plus, you might get caught!"

"You don't." Abu pointed out.

"That's because of experience."

"Well, I'll just get more experience." Abu said with finality. To prevent Aladdin from continuing his lecture, Abu poured a small amount of the wine directly onto Aladdin's open wound. Aladdin hissed in pain and tears prickled at his eyes. He cursed rather colorfully, forgetting Abu's presence, when Abu wiped the wound with a cleaner rag. Immediately, the ashamed teenager apologized.

"Don't worry about it. I've heard worse."

Aladdin frowned. Abu, noting his expression, added, "I've been on the streets before. I'm not a child."

"You are a child." Aladdin retorted.

Abu replied seriously, "I don't think I am anymore, with what we have been through."

Aladdin fell silent, the air becoming melancholy with the passing moment. He agreed honestly, "None of us are."