Jasmine knocked on the Sultan's bedroom door. Amyn held her hand tightly for support.
"Father?" Jasmine called softly.
"Come in," the Sultan called.
Taking a deep breath, Amyn allowed himself to be led inside.
"Father," Jasmine said as soon as the door was closed behind them, "Amyn and I would like to speak to you."
"What is it dearest?" the Sultan asked with a smile, then gasped when he saw the welt on Amyn's cheek. "Good heavens, boy, what happened to your face?"
"That's what we want to talk to you about," Jasmine spoke up. It appears that King Abdalrahman and prince Achmed have been keeping secrets. They have been abusing prince Amyn since the day he was born!"
The Sultan looked at the couple in shock. "But... the King spoke so highly of you," he stammered, looking at Amyn in confusion.
Amyn shook his head. "He doesn't care about me. He doesn't even care about your daughter. All he cares about is the money he can gain. I was simply his last resort."
"These are very serious charges," the Sultan told him.
"You think I would make this up?!"
"Father," Jasmine broke in, "there is something you need to see."
Amyn understood, but he wished he didn't. Wincing, more from embarrassment than pain, he removed his tunic, revealing the fresh wounds on his arms and back, as well as the deep bruises on his neck and shoulders.

"Good heavens! Who did this to you?!"
"My brother," Amyn said quietly. "But the bruises on my shoulder are from my father."
"And both were done inside these palace walls?" Amyn nodded. "Why didn't you report it?" the Sultan asked, and Amyn hung his head.
"Who could I report it to?" My father is the king, he can do what he wants. The only one greater than him is you, and that's only because we are in your kingdom."
The Sultan nodded. "You were right to tell me about this."
"What are you going to do?" Amyn asked worriedly, feeling the fear rise up inside him again.
"I'm going to confront him," the Sultan told him.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Amyn objected fearfully.
The Sultan lifted his chin determinedly. "Like you said, he is in my kingdom. He has no power here."

"I must admit, it is rather strange to be summoned at this time of night. I hope nothing is wrong," the king said smoothly, as he and prince Achmed walked into the throne room. The Sultan was on his throne, and Amyn and Jasmine stood beside him respectfully.
"There is something wrong," the Sultan said seriously. "This young man claims you've been abusing him for years!" Achmed glared at Amyn, who was staring at the floor.
The king sneered. "What I do with my own child is my own business."
"You are right," the Sultan agreed. "But when it comes to within my walls, there are certain actions that are NOT done!"
The king scowled. "What lies have you been telling, boy?" he demanded of his younger son.
"Only the truth, Father," Amyn answered him shakily, looking up at last. "For years, you have beaten and humiliated. me. Well today you both went too far."
The King stood taller. "I did nothing."
"You call this nothing?" Amyn cried, pulling down the neck of his tunic to reveal the deep bruising on his shoulder.
"You have no proof that it was me!" the king yelled.
"Excuse me, Your Highness," came a voice, and a young maid, the one who had been taking Amyn's suit measurements earlier that day, walked hesitantly into the throne room. "But there is proof. I saw it."
"You weren't even there!" the King snapped.
"I beg your pardon, my lord, but I was. I had forgotten my shears. When I went to retrieve them, I saw what you were doing."
"And what was he doing?" the Sultan asked.
"He had the prince pinned against the wall. He grabbed his shoulders very harshly, causing the prince pain."
The Sultan nodded. "Thank you, my dear, for telling me."
"Lies!" the King spat.
"Truth, every word!" Amyn answered angrily.
"And that mark on your face, boy, I know full well I didn't do that!"
Amyn unconsciously touched the fresh wound. "It's true. You didn't," Amyn answered. "Achmed did."
"You dare insult me?! I would NEVER strike my brother!" Achmed insisted.
"Then why bother carrying the whip?" Amyn challenged him.
Achmed shrugged uncomfortably. "For peasants who get in my way."
"Just for peasants, brother? Care to explain this?" Amyn cried out, pulling off his tunic and showing off the fresh wounds. Both Achmed and the King stiffened.
"Or how there was such a commotion in his room tonight, when you were the only two people in there?" Jasmine spoke up angrily.
Achmed cleared his throat. "Circumstance."
"You tried to drown me!"
Achmed smirked. "You were in no real danger of dying."
"Enough!" the Sultan yelled. "I've heard enough! There will be no trade agreement. I want you and your oldest son to leave my kingdom at once!"
The king gasped. "You wish to keep that scum? You want truth, I'll give you truth. He took your daughter to the market, unprotected!"
The sultan paled, turning to the young prince. "Amyn?"
Amyn looked at the floor. "It is true. We did go to the market. But I never left her side. We wore disguises. No one knew it was her. And it did her good to get out of the palace."
Jasmine put her hand on the Sultan's arm gently. "Father, I had one of the best days of my life! Please don't hold that against him. He kept me safe."
"Just as he kept his first wife safe?" Achmed spoke up.
"What?" The Sultan looked at Amyn, shocked. "You're married?"
Amyn took a deep breath, and began: "Last year, I fell in love with a peasant girl. I knew my father wouldn't approve, so we eloped. We managed to keep our marriage a secret. When she became pregnant..."
"You have a child too?!" the Sultan interrupted.
"One that was never born. She was accused of prostitution. When I found that she had been arrested, I admitted before everyone that she was my wife, and that the child was mine. My father would not have a peasant for a daughter-in-law, and had her beheaded before she could give birth. I was placed in the stocks and forced to watch. It was the worst day of my life."
"He's not as innocent in all of this as he claims." Achmed insisted.
"Neither are you!" Jasmine snapped. "And as all of this happened before I met him, I do still wish to marry prince Amyn."
"And marry him you shall!" the Sultan assured her quickly, then turned to the two men. "The two of you are not invited, nor are you to set foot in my kingdom again!"
The king reddened furiously. "This is an act of war!"
"Then perhaps we can settle things peacefully, Father," Amyn spoke up. "I myself am not against trade arrangements. It could be beneficial to both of our lands. But there will be a few conditions."
The king glared at his younger son. "I'm listening."
"I agree with the Sultan. I do not want either of you to set foot on this land again. However, that does not mean that you cannot send traders from your land to ours, and vice versa. In the end, you will still be getting the gold." Amyn looked at his father nervously.
The king thought for a moment, then nodded. "I suppose I can agree to that."
Amyn breathed a sigh of relief, then turned to the Sultan. "What say you, Your Highness? The final word is yours."
The Sultan nodded. "I look forward to doing business with your traders. And as for you, welcome to the family, son."

{DAY 4}

When the wedding was over, Amyn and Jasmine were sent to a larger room to consomate the marriage. Both Amyn and Jasmine agreed secretly, however, that while they would share a room, since they were married, they would wait and have the honeymoon when they were ready, however long it took.

{DAYS GONE BY...}
Within the month, Jasmine's father became sick, and Amyn was named Sultan. He was fair in his judgements, and the people loved him. Jasmine also grew to love him more and more.
After they had been rulers of Agrabah for several weeks, they finally agreed: tonight.