Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. They belong to Disney and subsidiary companies. I just revel in their world often
Written by Rae
"To be in love, makes us soar. It's on the wings of doves, my dear one, that it will make us fly. "
As a small girl, these words of her Governess intrigued Princess Jasmine, infusing her young world with the fascination of romance. Possibilities had grown in her head, notions of love being lost then found, broken then mended, forbidden then allowed. Along with the endless freewheeling of her imagination, since she can remember, Jasmine has been surrounded by the elemental symbolisms of love.
From fairytales to white horses, from doves, red roses and the awe of France's romantic lore, she's learned of a world charmed by emotional attraction. She would watch, with wide eye's, her late mother's fingers skim the silk gold of curtains, folds of Egyptian lace gifted out of a husband's simple desire to make his wife feel beautiful.
"They will never compare to you, my dearest." she'd heard her father say. Brown eyes twinkling, the Sultan of Agrabah had stood before his wife, his love, his diamond, and presented her with fabric she'd admired since her trip to Cairo. "And though their beauty cannot scale your own, I do hope you will find them a pleasant vision to your Balcony,'"
Jasmine had been skulking behind cold marble, the pillar stained with her tiny fingerprints when curiosity drew her to her parents' wing of the palace. She had watched her mother's smile grow, had felt her own lips curve when a tall, Persian goddess had hugged the short, port of the her husband. Full painted lips had stained chipmunk cheeks, and Jasmine had realized for the first time, at the tender age of seven and a half, that within those smudges of deep crimson wasn't just pigment, but a silent affirmation. In her mother's kiss had been the same magic of Western tales, woven through the ages in stories of Romeo and Juliet, Rapunzel and her knight, King Arthur and his Guinevere.
Ten years ago, it had been true love that left red wax on her father's face and standing now, with her fingertips skimming the Egyptian curtains she'd had moved to her own room, she could still feel the heat in their cool fabric.
Jasmine sighs, and when she rests her head against ivory, she finds deeper reflection leaning on her balcony's door.
There was a time, after her mother's passing, when all she believed of love, everything she'd let herself hope in as a small child, had been squandered and dashed. When she was nine, she'd grown distrustful and rebellious of a love that should have been enough to carry on her mother's breath. Love sustains, she'd been taught, and yet her mother had been taken. If love was so powerful, why couldn't it save the woman who trusted in it the most? Love endures all, Jasmine's mother had said, and yet it had given into affliction.
When Jasmine's sadness had passed, anger, and doubt followed. The idea of true love became a foreign traveler, fleeing into a place unknown and forgotten for the next five years. It wasn't until she was fourteen, when her father had hired a new caretaker for the menagerie; the notion began to creep back.
Abdallah had been young, only a year older than she and though he'd been oblivious to her admiration, she'd found herself imagining, wondering of things she'd long ago abandoned. The low state of the boy had made it forbidden to make real her objectification, but she'd owed Abdallah, long after he'd left her father's hire, for making her begin to believe again in the fanatical possibilities of her mother's favorite subject.
For the next three years, she'd flirted around with romantic ideas; always hoping one of the suitors coming to call would spark to life what she'd believed in again. Unfortunately her dreams of finding love, after the umpteenth spoiled peacock in his sparkling visage failed to impress, had begun to feel less and less obtainable.
Then it happened.
When she'd least expected it, that sparking, the setting off of the magical force hidden in threads of Egyptian gold and her mother's lipstick, had ignited.
The night before, she'd run away, tired of enduring suitor after stuffy suitor, she'd made a choice to discover, on her own, a world her royal status forbid her to live in. She wanted to experience a new world, a free world, Abdallah's world.
She hadn't known commotion like the marketplace, humility like its costumers, or fear like she had felt when she'd angered a vendor by giving an apple, without pay, to a starving child.
It was then that he came, her white knight, disguised as a street rat in tattered clothes of purple, red and mysticism.
From a world she'd never braved, he had saved her, rescued her from not only the raised sword of a vendor but the slow dying hopes of a Shaksperian-esque love affair.
They had sat atop a crumbling building, a flat of sandstone and brick he'd called home, when she'd felt the kindling, a beginning fire set off through his brown eyes, beautiful, powerful and revealing to her commonalities, in the resentment of restrictions and desire to know more, to feel more and be more.
Aladdin had, with the soft caress of his compassion and character, vanished forever Jasmine's doubt of love's power. Against the orange of a setting sun, on an evening she'd never forget, he had given her real hope and stolen her heart.
Jasmine smiles on the memory now, circling with her thumb a tiny design etched in the Egyptian gold drapes.
By the powers of a genie, Aladdin thought he'd win her over. He'd worn the façade of a prince and though at first, the royal veil was convincing, it'd taken an evil sorcerer and an interval of peril for her to realize the full truth. It wasn't a prince who saved her from the whim of a madman but that same poor street rat, with his rich, enticing character and wealthy spirit.
Years have passed now, since the fateful meeting in the marketplace, since her father realized, as she, that Aladdin had held more in his hand than just a magic lamp. Etched into his palm was Jasmine's destiny, beautiful lines intersecting to spell out a future they would both share.
Between the unforgettable, wonderful moments there have been countless obstacles. If their life was a book then there were innumerable protagonists always and endlessly striving to write the chapters in words of dark magic and impending doom. Yet always, at the end of every last paragraph, 'happily ever after' stubbornly and boldly truncates 'and it was the end of all things'. Their past has given her proof that love does endure, even in the most difficult of times.
It was surreal now, she had to admit, that she once doubted those encouraging words spoken by her Governess.
For the past two years, she's been high flying. Her future first gave her wings on the back of a magic carpet, where she soared and tumbled through a whole new world. It was a bigger world, a grander world, Aladdin's world, and she knew, from the first time he pulled her into him, that she wanted to live in it for the rest of her life.
This truth is why she's standing here now, at the entrance to her balcony, safe, content and unimaginably happy. Jasmine smiles and when she raises her left hand, her lips curve more.
She'd become his wife two weeks ago. After so many trials, temptations, and constant delays, it had happened. They'd said 'I do' under a pavilion of terra cotta brimstone and hopeless devotion. No longer did she distrust red roses, white horses and happy endings, instead she was steadfast in believing flying was possible and not just on the back of a gold tasseled rug.
He's coming now; she can hear him, soft footprints against Persian tile leading her future nearer and nearer until she starts to feel him.
"Jasmine, I don't know how much more of this I can take." He says entering the room. Aladdin rubs his temples, oblivious to everything but his aching mind. "Five meetings with your father already today and we've only been up for two hours."
When he collapses on the bed, she walks to him, her smile still wide and beatific, contrasting his glum mood. He fails to notice and instead, throws his arm over his forehead, as if he's sensitive to the beaming sunlight.
"Ministers, magistrates, chief judges, prime judges, royal guards, even cooks. Apparently, I'm to hear of every detail, foreign and domestic, right now, as opposed to when I actually do inherit the throne."
"Maybe if I'm lucky, your father will live forever." He throws his arm down and slowly, a small smile appears. "That should have been my third wish."
Amused, Jasmine laughs low in her throat. Genie's sense of humor has been rubbing off on him lately. She can't say it doesn't flatter him.
"I don't think Genie would think so." she replies, taking a seat on the bed.
"I don't think Sultan would either. " Aladdin adds.
He dry washes his face, willing away his morning frustration. When he drops his hand, Jasmine grabs it and leans into him. Gently, she rubs her thumb across his palm, tracing over the tiny lines, etching her name in his flesh.
Aladdin watches her, wonders of her look of contemplation before questioning it.
"I was just…" she shrugs, "… thinking."
"…That we should have prolonged our honeymoon indefinitely?"
His glib smile threatens his whole face when he props himself up. Jasmine smirks before entwining their fingers.
"I was thinking…" she states again, "…that I never really, truly thanked you."
There's a line now, between Aladdin's brows, contouring his face in a look of mild confusion.
"Thanked me for what?" he questions.
"…For everything." She states simply, as though he can understand in one word, all her past reflections.
He doesn't and it's why he straightens his back and tightens her fingers in his.
"Jasmine, what-" before he can ask, she presses her finger to his lips.
"Aladdin, I owe you so much for all that you've shown me." She scoots closer to him, near enough until her thigh is against his. "I've told you how you opened my world, my eyes, to so many things, but I never really thanked you for it. I've never thanked you for allowing me your world and your freedoms…your love."
Though he's smiling, he shakes his head and dips an eyebrow before reaching out to her. His fingers comb through her dark hair, black strands of silk he strokes before grasping her neck and pulling her forehead to his.
"Jasmine, everything I am, is because of you. Everything I want to be is because of you." His breathe is falling on her face, warming her. "My world and my freedoms are everything that you are. I should be the one thanking you."
Aladdin pulls her back, brushes his thumb across her lips before meeting her eyes.
"I owe you everything, Jasmine. You owe me nothing."
Her eyes are warm now, damp with compassion and a love so overwhelming, so powerful, it's subdued her voice.
"And though I doubt sometimes that I can do this, that I can be half the Sultan your father is, I come back here to you, and I know that all of my doubts, all of my second guessing is worth it. I believe, so much, in us. "
He smiles, beautifully, and cups her face in his palms. She can feel her name, invisible but warm, pulsing a silent promise onto the skin of her cheek.
"This is a whole new world now, Jasmine, and I'm so happy I get to spend the rest of my life living it out, right here, with you."
She adores his eyes, warm and brown, with flecks of dark gold, and their resonating now, an encompassing love that drives her to push into him.
"That makes two of us." She affirms.
Wordlessly, he tilts her chin and pushes her up until their lips meet.
Like all the rest this kiss is full of honey, passion and a promise. She tugs on his shirt, deepening it, and when he's left her breathless and complacent, she pulls away for air. Again, he rests his forehead to hers and their breath mingles, dances, whispering of what was stolen.
"I love you, Jasmine. Forever and always I will love you."
She closes her eyes, revels in his words and the gravel her kiss has left in his voice. Her smile, the one he placed on her face, is widening. She lifts her left hand, and brings the gold ring to his view.
"Till death do us part?" she teases.
"No, Jasmine." he states, and his eyes, again, become dark and heavy lidded, intent with desire and they move to her lips. "…For much, much longer."
His words are lost in the kiss, stolen by her mouth and its anticipation.
Above every rooftop Jasmine is soaring, higher than any cloud or magic carpet could ever take her. He was a prince once disguised as a pauper, a white knight who'd lived in black alleys and a hero who, once upon a time, believed he was worthless.
A fancy of flight, he's made her life. Her best friend, her soul mate, has given her wings, and she's going to spend the rest of her life high flying in this beautiful world, their world.
Her husband, the man who carries her name, her destiny, in the palm of his hand has given her a glorious, wonderful future and she's looking forward to every precious second of it.