A Thing About Princes

The Sands of Time wasn't exactly an example of "high art," but Jasmine enjoyed it all the same.

She sat there in the gardens, turning one page after another. Above her was an olive tree, shading her from the Arabian sun with its leaves and branches. Beneath her was the grass. Around her was stone, and the sound of the fountain bubbling. Beyond that, the garden walls, and beyond them, the city of Agrabah. Agrabah, the jewel of Arabia. Agrabah, the envy of the world. Agrabah, the "hottest thing this side of the River Jordan." A city that she had never been allowed to step foot in. Agrabah, a city she had only seen from the palace itself.

At times, it had annoyed her – she was the princess and heir to the throne, so by what law of God or Man could she be forbidden from treading where she pleased? At times, it concerned her – if she was to be the ruler of her people, how could she serve them without having an inkling of how they led their lives? At times, it caused her heart to ache, as she stood on her balcony and watched the city greet the night, a thousand lamps coming to greet the thousand stars. At times though, like today, she didn't mind. Because as stifling as the palace could be, it had an excellent library, filled with works ranging from all across Arabia, and even some from places as far flung as Greece and India. Again, The Sands of Time would never be counted among the great works of the world, but it was damn entertaining. So entertaining that when Rajah came by and began rubbing his chin against her foot, she shooed him away. There were no tigers in this story, and there would be no interruptions.

Oh do say yes, she thought to herself, as she flicked the page. Please say yes.

She knew what the outcome was, when Prince Dastan asked for Princess Tamina's hand in marriage. She'd read the book at least ten times. But still, she couldn't help it. Her heart fluttered. She shifted her legs, trying to subdue the tingling that lay between them. Even as she read Dastan's last words, that he would show her love, the world, and all the wonders of both, she wiped her eyes. And as the book ended with a repeat of its opening - it is said that some lives are linked across time connected by an ancient calling that echoes through the ages…it was beautiful. Low art, but still, beautiful. She could accept that of all the stories of the (mostly nameless) Prince of Persia that there was a pretty similar structure (just replace Tamnia with Farah or Elika for example), but still, it made for entertaining reading. The type of entertainment that she could enjoy in solitude, without being isolated. Entertainment unlike that of the previous night.

"You look like you enjoyed that Jasmine."

She started to get to her feet. "Father."

"Oh please Jasmine, no need to get up." He walked over, smiling. "May I join you?"

"Of course father."

She wouldn't have minded a few more minutes of alone time, Rajah notwithstanding. That point immediately after one ended a book, where they could just sit there and soak it in. Still, one didn't say "no" to their father, especially when he was the sultan. She might be heir to the throne of Agrabah, but it was he who sat on it. In fact, many would say that he was Agrabah, for indeed, a kingdom could only be as good as the one who ruled it, according to some of the philosophers she'd read.

Or tried to read, granted. But at the age of seventeen, she figured that she had many decades ahead of her to further hone her mind.

"It's nice here," said the sultan as he sat down beside her on the grass. "I can see why you come to this place so often."

"I suppose," she murmured, not sure that he was actually that sure.

"And how is Rajah?" her father asked. He picked up the tiger's cheeks in his hands. "Are you still being a nice cat? Are you?"

The look on Rajah's face told Jasmine that he was a nice cat, but the "nice" part might change if the sultan didn't look go. Fortunately, her father obliged.

"I have something for you," the sultan said. He took a small box out of his pocket. "Happy birthday Jasmine."

Jasmine smiled – it was a strange mix of gratitude and irritation, and she wondered if the gift-giver noticed. "Father, please," she said. "My seventeenth birthday was yesterday, and I received enough gold and gifts to fill a palace in Heaven."

"Then when you enter the next world, I'm sure the riches of this one will have no trouble finding space. But while I remain in this world with you, I would enjoy the chance to dote upon my daughter."

Jasmine's smile widened, and this time, there was no conflicted feelings about it. "Thank you father," she said, before taking the box and opened it. Her eyes widened.

"Are they to your liking?" her father asked. "I had them made in India."

They were – a pair of jade earrings, each in the shape of a tear drop. To the untrained eye, the design was simple, but as someone who had been surrounded by such riches all her life, Jasmine could appreciate the details.

"They're beautiful," she said, hugging him. "I'll be sure to wear these, and thank your generosity every day."

"Oh, one day is enough," her father smiled as she fitted them on. "But I'm glad you like them. I understand that you may not need more gifts after yesterday, but still-"

"Father, you needn't fret. Seriously."

"Oh. That's good. You seemed so distant last night."

That, she had. Because she'd felt distant.

Yesterday had been her seventeenth birthday. Supposedly a parade was held in her honour in the city, but as always, she hadn't been allowed to see it. What she had been allowed to do was sit at the head of the table in the banquet hall, her duties being nothing more than looking pretty and being polite. Gold, silver, perfume…they had been given to her by everyone from the palace staff to dignitaries from lands beyond. She'd thanked each one of them for their kindness, and added it to the growing pile of things she didn't really want, and things she most certainly didn't need. The entertainment, from music, to dance, to theatre, that had done her soul some good, but she had felt alone, even as dozens of people filled the hall. Her birthday had been filled with celebration that felt scarce different from all the celebrations that had preceded it. Only back then…

Back then, she could remember the differences. Back then, even if she'd been confined to the palace, there'd been fewer boundaries for her. She could play with the children of the servants in the gardens, rolling on the grass and splashing in the water. She could wander into the throne room as her father dealt with matters of state, and even if forced to leave eventually, see the great men around her laugh at the upstart princess, with nothing but fondness and mirth within their eyes. In the earliest of days, she could have even turned to her mother. But then, things had changed. Not overnight, but over time. The palace falling silent around her. Servants and their children addressing her not as "Jasmine" but "Princess." The guards followed her more closely, and matters of state became not matters she could barge into, but ones she had to sit through in silence, listening to opinions and be forbidden from expressing her own – preparation for the future, they called it. Over time, she had turned to books. To Rajah. But even the likes of The Sands of Time could fill her heart for only so long, and Rajah…

Rajah was a tiger. A big, fun, friendly tiger, but a tiger all the same. Tigers could listen, but they most certainly couldn't talk.

"Jasmine?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you alright?"

"Pardon? Oh, yes, certainly."

"Are you sure? Because last night you seemed so distant, and even here in the sunlight, I can see your-"

"Nothing's wrong father, truly." She hugged him. "Thank you again for the earrings." She got to her feet. "I think I will retire to-"

"Actually, before you go anywhere, there is something that I wish to speak with you about."

"Oh?" She knew that tone – it meant that her father was serious. "What about?"

He got to his feet as well. "Jasmine, I think you know."

"Is it Rajah? Has he done-"

"Your pet cat-"

Rajah growled.

"…tiger, is fine," her father said. "It is you I wish to discuss Jasmine, or at least, your future."

She raised an eyebrow. "My future?"

"Jasmine, you must know. I…" He sighed. "Jasmine, yesterday was your seventeenth birthday. And a year before that, you began…well, you are growing into a woman my dear, and you must have noticed the…well, changes in-"

"Yes father, I'm well aware of how my anatomy works."

"Then you also know about Agrabah's law. That any ruler of the kingdom must be wed by their eighteenth birthday."

Jasmine stared at him.

"Jasmine, are you listening?"

"This…father, surely you jest."

"Jasmine, this is no laughing matter."

"Father, this is absurd." She turned around. "If you think-"

"Jasmine, turn around and look at me!"

She did so. Her father rarely yelled. As someone cursed with dwarfism, he'd never been the most intimidating of men, but if the situation called for it, he had a way of commanding one's attention. She being his daughter only added to his level of authority.

"It is the law," he said. "The law that has governed our city for generations – every ruler must find their spouse by their eighteenth birthday."

"When you say find, you of course mean paired."

"Jasmine, I have left this as long as I was able. I have long hoped that you might find someone worthy of you before now, and-"

"If you think so highly of me, perhaps you should me decide when, or if, I choose to pledge myself to another."

Her father sighed, his eyes and voice softening. "Would I be able to my dear. But the law of the land is clear."

"You're the sultan. Change the law."

"There are some things that even I cannot do. I'm sure you understand."

"Being imprisoned here behind these walls? Yes, oh so many."

"Then understand further that what must happen is clear. Tomorrow, I shall extend an invitation to Prince Abdul of Kassid. A fine man, to be sure, and Kassid's ties with Agrabah already run deep."

"I'm sure he's a fine man. I'm not sure what that has to do with me."

"We shall speak no more of this." Her father smiled at her. "Do chin up Jasmine. I met your mother the same way."

She didn't say anything. On one hand, she knew it to be true. On the other, she knew that there were many loveless marriages in the world, and that her parents had been the exception rather than the rule. On the third…

On the third, her father was leaving, and she was left alone in the garden as usual. With nothing but Rajah and a book for company. Frowning, she picked up its cover – the book sold a lie. Even acknowledging its status as a work of fiction, she had dared to hope that her prince might be the same. Good with a sword. Dashing. Heroic. Athletic. All traits that princes didn't need, since they had armies to fight their battles for them.

Stupid book. She let it drop on the grass and lay down as well. Listening to the wind. To the foundation. To Rajah yawn. To the birds in their cage. Singing, as they always did.

Or perhaps crying for release.

A/N

So, with the recent Aladdin trailer (recent at this time of writing at least), I found myself reminded of Prince of Persia, what with Aladdin's acrobatic ability in escaping the guards reminding me of Dastan's. Like, similar setting, just more colourful and less dirty. Of course, the response to this is "well, of course, Aladdin and Prince of Persia both ultimately stem back to Arabian Nights for their inspiration, but whatever, drabbled this up.