Hello, it's been a while since my last fanfic. I've been on a Disney kick lately and I've been dying to make this fic after watching the Aladdin Trilogy. I mean, I'm sure this seems like ones of those fics where some girl falls head over heels for the street rat and he adors her and worships the ground she walks on...No, no, no, I promise it's nothing like that. I also promise that the chapters will get better. So, now I will shut up and allow you to enjoy my first Aladdin fic.
Disclaimer: Aladdin does not belong to me...although I do dream it did.
Everyone else: Belongs to me.
Memories of a Distant Love
Chapter 1- Learn from Ones Mistakes
The sun blazed down on the city of Agrabah with a fierce growl of humidity that left those within Agrabah's walls frustrated with persperation, envying the sultan who most likely was bathed in the brisk walls of his elegant palace. They loved their sultan, but they weren't in favor of dying from the unbearable heat, being whisked away in a blazing inferno of sulking sweat that they cursed the royal name.
"Stop! Thief!" Day in, and day out, it was the same commotion. Taking a loaf of bread to fill ones stomach, being chased by the palace guards and escaping by a thread of hair just in time to settle down to enjoy ones "hard earned" meal. He was sick of living like this, but being a "street rat" had a price to pay. It wasn't all fun and games. He blew his raven tresses from his eyes and looked back to see if any guards were making their way down the allyway he had jumped into. None. With a sigh of relief, he climbed his way through the barrels and onto the otherside of the street, his treasure safe within the palm of his hand. Grinning to himself, he dove into another allyway and tore off the end of his prize and popped it into his mouth, savoring the wholesome flavor before chewing and finally swallowing. He continued to do this until he had finished the loaf entirely.
He was a boy in his late teens, around sixteen or so. His tresses as deep as midnight, with eyes as dark as chocolate and clothed in a violet vest, white/off-white pants that were patched up at the knee and topped off with a fez to match. He most definitely played the part.
He was orphened at the age of ten, leaving him to fend for himself. Stealing became something of a second nature to the boy. Getting better at it then the last time he had stolen an apple; growing twice as fast; twice as clever in strategy. It was a horrible way to live. But, whether they liked it or not, this is the way it was. Unless taxes were lowered, poverty was becoming larger than the population, if that was at all possible. Once again, they cursed their beloved sultan.
As the streetrat ate his loaf, commotion brewed elsewhere as a young woman no older than sixteen herself roamed Agrabah's marketplace, awaiting for an ignorant vender to turn his back so she may partake in any of the delectable items he had freshly created for a consumer to buy...or a street mouse to snatch.
"Just a little more..." she muttered, watching this particular vender carefully. He was a heavy set man, and she knew that he wouldn't be able to move fast enough if he were to catch her. But then, that was just in case after all. Elsewhere, trumpets played their melody as a crowd gathered by the palace balcony. Uninterested, she moved in and reached her hand out. The vender turned around to see. No go. "Damn it," she muttered softly, withdrawing quickly and drew her attention elsewhere as he looked over to her with a rather suspicious glance. She paid him no mind and looked up to the balcony. It was a blur, but she could make out the small little man that had been known as the sultan. Once again, he was grazing Agrabah's people once more with his presence. "Oh what a treat," she muttered rather sarcastically.
"Shush," a commoner silenced her. "The sultan has done many things for us. Placed a roof over our heads, gave us such fine food..." And from there he went on. And from there the young woman shook her head softly. How more wrong could this man be? Either he was brainwashed, blind, or just refused to believe that their ruler hadn't done a damn thing but raise the taxes and sit on his fat ass in the lap of luxury with his primp and proper brat. That was the true reality.
"If you say so," she said, more so to get this man off of her case. "By the way, what's going on?"
"As if you didn't know," he chuckled softly. "They're announcing the beginning of the many suitors to face Princess Jasmine. She must choose a husband after all, seeing as how once her father passes, she'll rule Agrabah. And what a fine job she'll do," he gave a rather satisfied sigh, which caused the young woman to contort her face in a rather odd look. The man frowned, "And what do you have against the royal family?"
"Nothing, nothing at all," she said, looking up to see the small man still going on with his speech, the small crowd that had gathered cheered. She tucked some of her brown locks behind her hair and frowned a bit as she watched. "I just don't understand, I suppose."
The man smiled. He was reaching his elderly ages, walked with a hunch, clad with balding gray hair. He had a rather kind face, but seemed very opinionated and had many good things to say about the sultan. She had words in response to that, but she wasn't about to argue with an old man, so, she left it as is.
"It was nice talking to you," he said, gave something of a wave and teetered on his merry way, passing through the small aisle in the middle of the marketplace to walk. Once she was sure the old man was out of her vision, she turned back to the cart to see the owner's attention was set on the sultan completely. With a grin she slowly moved in, her arm sliding up to the wood siding, then to the soft lining of the cart, then felt a ripe apple. With itching fingers, she quickly plucked a side one; she gave a grin in triumph, but that wouldn't last for long the moment she heard the low growl of rumbling. With a fearful glance, she peeked up to see the apples threatening to spill. "No, no, no..." she pleaded with the fruit for a moment or so before she gave something of a shriek as the apples toppled onto her.
The vender looked over to the racket which disturbed the hearing of his beloved sultan's speech to see his apples gone. The young woman groaned a little as she lifted her hand up and out of the pile, only to suddenly be grabbed by the wrist and held up for all to see. "Thief!" the vender shouted into her face as many others followed his loud voice. He shook her like a rag doll for a few moments, "Guards!" He shouted. "Guards!" No way was she going to allow herself to be found out. It would mean losing her breakfast, but, it was better than losing her head. She wiggled about in his grasp which caught him off guard for a moment or so, she caused enough friction to sweat, and the sweat creating a slippery grasp and thus setting her free upon being dropped onto the ground. She slid between the man's spread legs and hurried to her feet, running with the apple still intact in her hand. Hey, she even amazed herself sometimes.
She picked up her speed and climbed atop a few boxes, then shot over a wall to lose anyone who may have been in back of her, she was far too afraid to look back. Sighing with relief she settled down against the wall, sure she had lost those who had been most likely to follow her. She looked at the dark red apple in her hands and her eyes shimmered for a moment, leaning the apple into her lips, she felt a weight on her shoulder, then felt it hop off along with her apple. She blinked in confusion for a moment and found a small brown ball of fur make off with her food. "Hey!" She worked hard for her bit of food, and she wasn't going to let anyone take that away from her. The ball of fur was fast, she had to admit, but she was hot on its trail and would have caught it, if she didn't smack into something, or someone. For a minute, her whole world went black.