A True Prince

The sultan whose name was Al'addin beheld his army, the walls of Lazarath, and the expanse of desert that lay between them.

Lazarath, oh jewel of the north, where the waters of the River Jordan could feed its fields. Oh Lazarath, whose gold formed mountains that reached as high as Heaven. Oh Lazarath, place of learning, where men as wise as the Prophet delved into the secrets of the universe, so that they may understand the designs of God Almighty. Oh Lazarath, city no different from any other, as it would fall to the armies of Agrabah, as others had before.

Other kingdoms had laughed at him. Aladdin, the Beggar King, the one who emerged from the streets and carried the stench with him into the palace. Al'addin, the sorcerer boy of false name and intentions – he who consorted with djinn to take the throne, who cast down the sultan before him, and the advisory who had tried to stop this madness. Al'addin, who had taken the sultan's daughter into his haram, and made beasts with two backs. Let Agrabah fall, they said, and we will take what is left from the ruins. They may call us vultures, but better to be birds than one with by the name of Sultan of Rats.

They had said that right up to the moment where Finesh had fallen – its riches taken, its people slaughtered. Those who survived spoke of the sultan who went by the name of Al'addin. Whose armies were seemingly without limit, and were matched in number only by their depravity. A conquering horde, armed with swords, mounted on horses and gilded in armour the colour of the sun. "Make way," the soldiers cried. "Make way for Sultan Ali. Al'addin has come. Make way, open your gates, and let us march to your palace. This city is part of the Kingdom of Agrabah, and may God strike down any man who resists."

Finesh had resisted. God had not struck down its men, or deflowered its women. God had not burnt its libraries to the ground, or scattered its children to the four winds, so that their tears may cause the desert to bloom. What had done that was the beast that lurked in the heart of every man. Or, one man in particular. He who had found that which made him mighty. He who had taken wishes free. He, who upon shattering the chains of its djinn, had forged thousands of new ones. He, who after much toil, had replicated the magic of the lamp.

Apparitions. Hundreds, nay, thousands. Perhaps in ages past there had been those who had made similar wishes – armies that would be unstoppable. If that was the case, they had fallen to the sands of Arabia. Not so with Agrabah, he had told himself. Not so with Al'addin. Three wishes made, now only one demand – to be ruler of all her surveyed. Finesh had been the first, but not the last. Lazarath would be that. Lazarath, who beheld the army of the Devil. Lazarath, whose children whimpered, whose women prayed, and whose men made peace with God as they beheld the apparitions before them. Lazarath, which would fall, be it one day, ten, or a hundred.

He rode atop his elephant – one of magnificent tusk and mighty body. One who had carried him from city to city. No name for this beast, for he did not need it, any more than he sought the companionship of lesser creatures. He surveyed his army, standing in silence, awaiting his command. His wish. He surveyed the walls of Lazarath and smiled – once, not too long ago, there would have been a time where he would have been turned away at the gates just by sight. There was a time where they would have laughed at him. There was a time, not so long ago, where he wished for everything, and received nothing. But those times was gone. The time that mattered was the present, so that in the future, none would forget the name of Al'addin. So with but a thought and a gesture, he signalled his army to begin their song.

"Make way," the soldiers cried. "Make way for Sultan Ali. Al'addin has come. Make way, open your gates, and let us march to your palace. This city is part of the Kingdom of Agrabah, and may God strike down any man who resists."

There was no response from Lazarath. Only the sight of spear and bow, of shield and chain mail. Of banners mounted atop the walls, fluttering in a wind that bore the taste of sand and death.

"Make way," the soldiers cried. "Be it under sun or stars, be it in the bazaar or palace, come, behold Al'addin. Ring bells, ring drums, bend the knee, and his mercy shall be known. Resist, and be swallowed under the sands, devoured by time as a tiger might its prey. Make way, make way for Sultan Ali!"

Still no response from Lazarath. Only silence, and with it, the epitaph of fools. Oh for a simpler time, Al'addin reflects. A time where an army such as this might have been granted free passage into a city before having to endure the tedium of this rehearsal.

So with a thought and a gesture, his army surges forward. In silence, he watches as the scene unfolds, as arrow and stone come down from the walls. As ladders and grappling hooks are cast upward, as siege towers roll forward, as slow, but as inevitable as the weathering of mountains.

"Aladdin."

He will know victory. He will know the smell of blood, as surely as he once knew the smell of rats.

"Aladdin."

He knows that all will know him, that in the annals of history, Al'addin, Sultan of Agrabah, will be remembered. For a thousand times a thousand years, his story will be told, in this new world. His new world.

"Aladdin, wake up!"

And never more, will he have to know his old name. Never more, will he have to remember what filth he once was. Never more, will he have to worry the stares and words of those who considered themselves better than he.

"Aladdin!"

He-

He wakes up with a yell.

He's drenched in sweat, even though the doors to the balcony are open. The curtains fly in a gentle wind, whispering the song of the sands, as composed by the stars and moon that shine from the sky. Their light filters into the chamber, but is eclipsed by the glow of the candles that surround the bed. And, in the eyes of he, Aladdin, former street rat, wisher of wishes three, and as of a week ago, first in line to the throne of Agrabah, that light is still nothing to the radiance of the woman who holds the candle.

"You're awake," she whispers.

She by the name of Jasmine. She, who is as beautiful in the light of star and moon as she is under the light of sun. She, whose eyes he cannot meet, as he swings his legs out from under the sheets and drapes them over the side.

"Aladdin? Are you well?"

"I'm…I'm fine."

Jasmine scoffs, but Aladdin pays little heed. He wraps a nightshirt around himself and walks out onto the balcony. Past books that he can barely read, past candles lit by servants that bow to him, past the sleeping tiger that is twitching as it dreams dreams more pleasant than his. He steps out onto the balcony and looks up at the Heavens. Dark is the night, but not so dark as what plagues his mind.

"Aladdin."

He glances around as Jasmine comes to join him. Like him, she is wearing dress suited for that time between the rising and setting of the sun. Unlike him, her concern is not for what is within her mind, but what is within her lover's eyes.

"I'm fine," he says.

Jasmine sighs and puts the candle down on the balcony's table. "Are we still doing this?" she asks.

"Doing what?"

"You uttering lies, believing that I won't discover the truth eventually." He opens his mouth to say something, but she beats him to it. "And before you say anything, I will concede that genies and fancy dress can fool me for a time, but claiming that your mind is well is a lie even my father could see through."

Despite himself, Aladdin smirks. "Isn't that a bit harsh?"

"My father let a lie fester in these walls for decades," Jasmine says. She shivers, and Aladdin knows it isn't just from the chill of the night air. "I would never again have a serpent inside this palace so it can spit out falsehoods along with its venom."

"Not all snakes are venomous," Aladdin says.

"No," she says. "And not all dreams are nightmares. But listening to you, seeing you, seeing the darkness under your eyes…I would still know the truth, no matter what it may be."

Aladdin looks at her. She looks at him.

"Well?" she asks.

Aladdin sighs, and rests on the balcony. He dreams of a magic carpet arriving for him, so that he may float away.

"Aladdin, whatever it is, whatever keeps you up at night…I would hear it" She puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Jasmine, I…" He takes a breath. Better the truth come out now, rather than later. "In my dreams…I see myself."

"Oh." Jasmine smiles. "Like-"

"I'm a monster."

The smile fades, and the night's chill becomes northerly.

"I'm sultan," he says. "But…not the sultan that…" He sighs, rubbing his eyes and hair. "Has it occurred to you that I don't know the first thing about ruling a kingdom?"

"Many times," Jasmine says. "But go on."

"In my dreams, I'm not…I'm not me," he says. "I mean, I am me, but…"

"But?"

"Remember when I waltzed into Agrabah? Prince Ali, come and see, giant elephants and apparitions created by Genie included?"

Jasmine smiles. "I remember. Loud, obnoxious…not like you at all."

"It's that, but…worse," Aladdin whispers. "In my dreams…imagine those apparitions. Imagine an army. Imagine me burning cities, and stealing gold, and…and…"

"And doing things that so many tyrants have done in history before?"

"It's not me!" Aladdin exclaims. He grips the balcony, his knuckles as white as the moon above. "But…but if it becomes me…if that's the type of sultan I'm going to become…"

"Aladdin…"

"Jasmine, what does it say about me that I'm thinking about this?"

Jasmine doesn't say anything. She just stands there, in the night. In silence. Her hair caught in the breeze as the curtains are behind them.

"Jasmine?"

"Aladdin…may I suggest that the question to ask is not that you're having these dreams, but whether they are dreams, or nightmares?"

"Jasmine?"

"Dreams?" She asks. "Or nightmares?"

"Nightmares, of course."

Jasmine smiles and gives him a small kiss on the cheek. "Then that says everything I need to know."

"What?"

"Many great men have dreamt as you have. Men who found themselves in power and sought that power over all they surveyed. Men who took on the role of sultan and saw it not as an honour, but as a means."

"But me being sultan-"

"Is not something we shall worry about tonight," Jasmine says. "In time, yes. In time, you'll learn how to read, and rule, and listen to people prattle on, and do all those things I ran away from."

"Sounds like you'd make a better ruler."

"Well of course I'd be one. But…" She takes his hands in his, and smiles. "If you were not here, if I could not see you in day and night, if I could not be reminded that even the so-called lowest among us would be worthy of respect, of loyalty, of love…how would I stay? And how could I sleep soundly in the knowledge that the one beside me could hope to rise above the darkest of impulses?"

Aladdin remains silent. Of course, as Jasmine's lips meet his, he doesn't have much choice in the matter.

"To bed, Prince Ali," she whispers. "To bed, so these nightmares may be banished, and come the morn, we may look to removing the fear behind them."

Fear. Aladdin's known fear his whole life. Fear of starvation. Fear of losing his hands. Fear of dying a nobody. Fear now, of the responsibility thrust upon him. Fear of hundreds of thousands of lives in his hands, counting on him to guide them. Fear, of not being worthy of the woman before him.

Many times, over the years, he will experience fear. For these reasons, and others.

But in this moment, as the stars and moon shines, as the wind blows, as they return to the bed and find solace in each other's arms, Prince Aladdin, future Sultan of Agrabah, Slayer of the Serpent, is without fear.

And at last, without nightmares.

A/N

Something I always wondered about in the Prince Ali sequence of the original Disney film is about Aladdin's entourage into Agrabah. Like, I'm assuming all his "servants and flunkies" are apparitions of some kind created by Genie, but what happens to them after they leave? Disappear? And if so, what's the ethics of that? Do they have any self-awareness?

What I've since wondered about since revisiting the song on YouTube is how he even got into the city with what's effectively an army at all. Like, I guess the guardsmen on Agrabah's walls said "oh sure Prince Ali from country I've never heard of, who's arrived without warning, I'll just let your entourage into the city without consulting the sultan." Like, when Jaffar tells Aladdin that "you just can't parade in here uninvited," he kinda has a point.

Anyway, drabbled this up.