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Alright, I've too many stories on-going already, and I really, really shouldn't be contemplating another one, but ... Okay. If I post the first chapter, and make absolutely no promises about when it might be updated ... would you all hate me? *ducks sheepishly* Though it might not even deserve continuing -_-; But here you go, anyway.
Title: The Blue-Eyed Sorcerer and the Djinn
Chapter: One
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: Good Omens
Characters/Pairings: Aziraphale, Crowley, Aladdin, Jafar, Janan (the princess), the Amir (sultan), Karimah. Janan/Jafar so far
Summary: A twisted version of the Aladdin story. A young desert ruffian finds a powerful artefact, and uses it to master a djinn, setting his sights on the emirate and the daughter of the Amir, who has herself acquired some ... supernatural aid
Wordcount: 2617
Warnings/Notes: some torture. See A/N at the end for info on setting and myths/stories used
Disclaimer: Not mine
Title: The Blue-Eyed Sorcerer and the Djinn
Chapter: One
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: Good Omens
Characters/Pairings: Aziraphale, Crowley, Aladdin, Jafar, Janan (the princess), the Amir (sultan), Karimah. Janan/Jafar so far
Summary: A twisted version of the Aladdin story. A young desert ruffian finds a powerful artefact, and uses it to master a djinn, setting his sights on the emirate and the daughter of the Amir, who has herself acquired some ... supernatural aid
Wordcount: 2617
Warnings/Notes: some torture. See A/N at the end for info on setting and myths/stories used
Disclaimer: Not mine
The Blue-Eyed Sorcerer and the Djinn
Part I
There are many tales, now, of the djinni. Of the creatures of air and fire, who walk the earth beside men, and may choose, as men do, to act for good or ill. There are stories of the dark djinn, who move amongst men unseen, and whisper in their ear of evil things, and tempt them to commit evil acts. And, too, the stories of angels who walk on man's other side, and remind him of virtue, and good, and the lies of the djinni.
And there are some tales of djinn who can be bound, and held in service, by the means first given to Suleyman himself. He was the first, and wisest, and there are those who say they served him gladly. But there have been others. And not all of them had the wisdom of that King. Not all bound djinni to serve good ends. Some listened to the darkness in their hearts, independent of a djinni's mutterings, and bound those powerful beings unwilling to their service.
There are tales, too, of the fates of such men.
Crowley hunched down around the pommel of his saddle, his hands clenched around the reins, and let himself sink into his own private little world of misery, ignoring the leering stares he was getting from the other members of their little Princely party. He had a nice little rant going that he didn't want interrupted, cursing Heaven and everyone working for it, from the Metatron on down (with maybe one exception, even now), but especially Michael. Oh yes, Heaven was behind this, and when he got free ...
Something big, he thought. Something really nasty, that would set their cause back decades, centuries if possible. Something big. A whole continent brought backwards, sunk into ignorance and fear and general lack of hygiene ... Possibly Europe. Europe had a lot of potential, as far as ignorance and potential barbarism went, especially since the Rome had fallen a couple of centuries back, and though it was already a cesspit, really, he was sure he could inspire them to some new idiocy ...
Anyway. The point was, he was going to get them for this! This was all their fault.
What sort of bloody idiot had let some ignorant desert bandit get a hold of the bloody Ring of Aandaleeb, anyway? What, they just decided to leave it lying around after Solomon's death? Someone forgot to pick it up? Left a nice shiny prize for any wandering idiot to pick up and play with? Honestly! Somebody really needed to have a word with their Disposal of Hazardous Waste Department, sometime before the next century. When he next met Aziraphale, he was going to strongly recommend sending a memo Upstairs. That was not something you wanted to suddenly be facing, all out of the blue, and Aziraphale would surely understand that. Absolutely.
But first, he had to get out of this. First, he had to somehow convince this bloody Aladdin person and his bloody stupid ruffians that holding a demon (djinn, whatever) captive using an ancient angelic artefact, and then using said demon to trick, usurp and/or slay your enemies (and get very rich) was probably not a good plan in the long run. It tended to draw attention, for one thing, from the kind of people it probably wasn't wise to challenge, leashed demon or no leashed demon. But try explaining that to these dimwits ... Except he didn't try explaining anything, anymore. He'd learned that lesson, oh yes.
It hadn't been so bad, at first. Beyond the first few days of panic when he realised he couldn't escape, anyway, but he'd settled in fast enough. It wasn't like the bastard had any imagination, or anything, and what he was asking for was all nicely demonic. Miracling up a nice treasure-cave or two, fine, fair enough. He could get behind easy money at the cost of blackening human souls, no problems there. Planting the suggestion in the minds of a few of the local eminences that the bastard deserved to be a prince (based mostly on good looks, money, and the four hundred-odd desert ruffians he'd bribed with the gold from said treasure caves - he'd barely even needed Crowley for that, that was how any number of princes rose these days), not much of a hardship. He'd done as much for free, without bloody orders, and hadn't minded so much. Okay, the little toerag was exceptionally rude about it, and condescending, and frankly creepy sometimes, but it was no worse than Crowley got from Down Below on a regular basis.
But then ... then the little bugger had decided he wanted a emirate on top of it. And there was only one available, really, within decent travelling distance, and unfortunately it already had an Amir, but ... well, that was easy enough to solve, wasn't it? Once you'd gotten nice and friendly with the poor fool, maybe made some nice respectful noises about possibly marrying his daughter ... Which, actually might not be a bad plan, because hey, she's pretty nice-looking by all accounts, and rich, and that's an easy in, and maybe Crowley might like to bamboozle that proud father into agreeing to the match? Oh, and forcing the girl herself to fall in love with him, thanks awfully.
Which was when Crowley had made the mistake of trying to explain, nice and politely, that he couldn't force people to fall in love. Wheedle, tempt, hit with the old lust-magic, no problem. Any time you like, old son, and it was hardly the first time. But love ... love was a matter of free will, and there was nothing Crowley could do to force it.
If he'd phrased it differently, he might have gotten away with it. It wasn't like the little bastard was all that big on romance, after all. A nice bit of lust would have done him just fine. But Crowley had been pissy, and annoyed, and in the mood to be pedantic, and Aladdin had not taken that at all well. Little bastard really didn't like it when people said 'no'.
That was when Crowley had gotten reminded of the whole 'Torment of the Blazing Fire' part of the control-of-demons deal Michael had handed to the old King, Michael being generally an asshole.
The feeling of molten metal pouring through his veins, the sensation of fire across every inch of his skin ... it had almost caused his corporation's heart to fail. It had hurt. It had more than hurt. It wasn't like Hell, where the flames that tortured humans so much were mostly used by demons to keep warm, and maybe have a nice scale-bath while shedding. This wasn't like that. This was holy fire, set into the Ring by archangels, and it hurt like fuck. Like fire inside his veins, until he wanted to claw himself apart, inescapable, and for a while there his screams had been so loud that the thieves swore blind Aladdin had almost dropped the Ring in terror.
If Crowley had known that at the time, he'd have tried to give it a little more volume, but he hadn't exactly been thinking at that point.
Things had changed, after that. What had been a minor (and, alright, rather worrisome) annoyance suddenly became intolerable. Before, he'd been technically a slave, because fighting someone who commanded the Ring was not exactly a healthy option, but it hadn't involved anything his normal job didn't, and at least he'd known the little twerp would be dead in a few years. Aladdin wasn't getting any younger. But this ... This had given the kid ideas. It had given the bastard a taste of something he really, really enjoyed, and no way could Crowley bear to spend years, maybe even decades, going through that ...
So here he was. Bound and chained, and set for the Amir's palace alongside his new 'master', and scrambling his brains trying to think of a way to escape. And a way to entice a young woman into love with the barbarian at his side, because Aladdin had learned that he didn't have to hear the word 'no' ever again, and trying to explain the whole 'free will' thing again was not high on Crowley's list of things to do this century. He felt a little guilty about it, because that was emphatically not a fate he'd wish on anyone, but it wasn't like he had a choice anymore.
Oh yes. When this was done, when he managed to escape, Arrangement or no Arrangement, Heaven's cause down here was getting set back by centuries. He swore it. If they were going to leave weapons like that lying around, they could damn well pay the price!
"Lord Azhar, the Amira has requested an audience with you."
Aziraphale blinked, looking up from his contemplation of a very nice collection of religious and medicinal manuscripts, with the occasional alchemical or mathematical treatise thrown in that he hadn't managed to weed out yet (for reasons of personal taste, of course, not any reflection on their value). The Amir's library had been made open to him two months ago, and he'd been slowly working his way through it, sorting as he went, and picking out a few things ... well, the man had offered him a reward for saving his daughter's life (a curse, nasty thing, positively demonic, but it had only taken a small miracle, really, it wasn't worth all this fuss), and naturally it was bad form to actually take him up on it, but then he'd been shown this library ...
He shook his head, refocusing on the servant waiting quietly below him, in the doorway. What had he said ... oh, that Janan had asked for him. Right. Yes. Well, the poor girl had been through a lot, she was probably feeling a little unwell again. The illness from her mother's curse had taken a while to shift, and he hadn't wanted to rush things. The title of 'sorcerer' was enough trouble, he didn't want them to get properly nervous about him.
Not that the Amir had been nervous, really. Quite the opposite. The man had been making noises that Aziraphale, or rather Lord Azhar, might consider settling down, perhaps taking a wife? And wasn't his daughter a beautiful creature, too? Aziraphale had had to put that idea down quickly. Not least because the girl herself would never have forgiven him, not when she'd nursed a secret affection for the Vizier, Jafar, for quite a long time, which Aziraphale quite approved of. A good man, this Jafar. Quiet, clever. A firm friend of the Amir, and a long-time admirer of Janan, if his thoughts were anything to go by ... No. Aziraphale could not in good conscience come between such a lovely pair. Nor could he resist perhaps planting a few gentle hints to the Amir himself, that his friend would make a very worthy suitor ...
Entirely irresponsible, of course, to meddle so. Absolutely not something he should be spending his time doing. But ... well, they seemed so happy, the pair of them, now that she was fitter and healthier, her eyes shining fit to light up the court behind her veil, and the serious young man was walking higher every day, seeing the change in her. Happiness and love, that was definitely his concern, and neither of them had put a foot beyond their boundaries, or caused anyone any grief through their love. He was sure his superiors would forgive his little efforts to ease their path.
He smiled at the thought, hurrying through the palace, nodding happily to whatever servants and courtiers happened to pass him. They smiled back, bobbing respectfully, despite their earlier fear of the strange, foreign sorcerer with his blue eyes and command of strange powers. Aziraphale was quite relieved by that, too ...
He stopped, coming to a halt outside the amira's visiting salon, frowning as he heard what sounded terribly like weeping from within. What sounded terribly like Janan weeping, and oh, that would not do. That wouldn't do at all.
"My dear," he called softly, nodding to the guards as he moved into the room, meeting the anxious and relieved gaze of Karimah, her servant and companion (and protector, though most didn't realise that, but Aziraphale knew full well that there were a number of deadly little items beneath the sweep of Kari's clothing). The usually stern and imperturbable woman looked almost harried as her mistress' sobs carried from behind the screen, and Aziraphale felt his hands come up to flutter in concern.
"Oh, Lord Azhar!" Janan cried, stepping out from behind her screen and running to him. Aziraphale flinched a little, instinctively, because one thing he should definitely not be doing was seeing the young girl without her veil, but the Amir trusted Karimah to defend his daughter's virtue, and the poor dear was far too distressed right now to care. She leapt into his arms, and buried her face in his chest, sobbing furiously, while he made frantic gestures of apology to Kari over her head. The older woman glowered at him, and mouthed an instruction to comfort the girl, or so help her ... Aziraphale swallowed, and hastily focused on Janan.
"Amira," he murmured, rubbing her shoulders gently. "Janan. My dear, what has happened!" Her sobs only climbed in volume, until Aziraphale really began to be alarmed. "Hush now, my dear! I'm sure it can't be so horrible ... please, calm down, dear one, and tell me what's happened." He hugged her close, stroking her hair gently, until she started to calm down, hiccuping desperately.
"It's terrible, Azhar! Terrible!" she managed, pulling back to rub at her eyes, looking terribly pale and fragile. She still wasn't in any state to go through such a shock, and Aziraphale felt a brief surge of annoyance at whoever had upset her so.
"What's terrible, dear one?" he asked gently, holding out a scrap of muslin hurriedly in case she started crying again. But Janan had managed to collect herself, stepping back properly and flushing faintly as she realised her impropriety, and the tears had stopped more or less completely.
"A suitor has come," she explained, voice cracking slightly. "A Prince has come asking to marry me, Lord Azhar. And my father ... my father ..." She stopped, almost crying again, and took a deep breath to get the rest out as coherently as possible. "My father, for some reason I can't understand, because I ... I thought he understood about ... about myself and Jafar ... but he says ... Oh Azhar!" she cried, suddenly, reaching out for him again. "Azhar, he says I must marry Prince Aladdin! He says we are to be married within the month! What am I to do!" And she threw herself back into his arms, sobbing heartbrokenly.
Aziraphale, for his part, simply looked up past Karimah's fierce, angry face, and stared into the middle distance for a long moment, rubbing carefully at the girl's shoulders. A suitor ... and the Amir had agreed to his suit? Despite the fact that even yesterday he had, as Janan said, looked kindly on Jafar's? Helped along, of course, by Aziraphale's own gentle nudgings? That was ... exceedingly unlikely. Unless ...
His eyes narrowed, sparking for a moment with a deeper blue as Karimah began to smile. No. This couldn't be tolerated, not after all his work. This Aladdin person, whoever he was, was going to have to be investigated ... and if Aziraphale found so much as a shred of proof for what he suspected, so much as a hint ... then this Prince was going to be in for a very sharp shock indeed. Oh yes.
If they were going to make his friends unhappy, they could pay the price!
EDIT: Fanart and fanfic by the fabulous![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nimmenstjer here. They're awesome!
Part I
There are many tales, now, of the djinni. Of the creatures of air and fire, who walk the earth beside men, and may choose, as men do, to act for good or ill. There are stories of the dark djinn, who move amongst men unseen, and whisper in their ear of evil things, and tempt them to commit evil acts. And, too, the stories of angels who walk on man's other side, and remind him of virtue, and good, and the lies of the djinni.
And there are some tales of djinn who can be bound, and held in service, by the means first given to Suleyman himself. He was the first, and wisest, and there are those who say they served him gladly. But there have been others. And not all of them had the wisdom of that King. Not all bound djinni to serve good ends. Some listened to the darkness in their hearts, independent of a djinni's mutterings, and bound those powerful beings unwilling to their service.
There are tales, too, of the fates of such men.
Crowley hunched down around the pommel of his saddle, his hands clenched around the reins, and let himself sink into his own private little world of misery, ignoring the leering stares he was getting from the other members of their little Princely party. He had a nice little rant going that he didn't want interrupted, cursing Heaven and everyone working for it, from the Metatron on down (with maybe one exception, even now), but especially Michael. Oh yes, Heaven was behind this, and when he got free ...
Something big, he thought. Something really nasty, that would set their cause back decades, centuries if possible. Something big. A whole continent brought backwards, sunk into ignorance and fear and general lack of hygiene ... Possibly Europe. Europe had a lot of potential, as far as ignorance and potential barbarism went, especially since the Rome had fallen a couple of centuries back, and though it was already a cesspit, really, he was sure he could inspire them to some new idiocy ...
Anyway. The point was, he was going to get them for this! This was all their fault.
What sort of bloody idiot had let some ignorant desert bandit get a hold of the bloody Ring of Aandaleeb, anyway? What, they just decided to leave it lying around after Solomon's death? Someone forgot to pick it up? Left a nice shiny prize for any wandering idiot to pick up and play with? Honestly! Somebody really needed to have a word with their Disposal of Hazardous Waste Department, sometime before the next century. When he next met Aziraphale, he was going to strongly recommend sending a memo Upstairs. That was not something you wanted to suddenly be facing, all out of the blue, and Aziraphale would surely understand that. Absolutely.
But first, he had to get out of this. First, he had to somehow convince this bloody Aladdin person and his bloody stupid ruffians that holding a demon (djinn, whatever) captive using an ancient angelic artefact, and then using said demon to trick, usurp and/or slay your enemies (and get very rich) was probably not a good plan in the long run. It tended to draw attention, for one thing, from the kind of people it probably wasn't wise to challenge, leashed demon or no leashed demon. But try explaining that to these dimwits ... Except he didn't try explaining anything, anymore. He'd learned that lesson, oh yes.
It hadn't been so bad, at first. Beyond the first few days of panic when he realised he couldn't escape, anyway, but he'd settled in fast enough. It wasn't like the bastard had any imagination, or anything, and what he was asking for was all nicely demonic. Miracling up a nice treasure-cave or two, fine, fair enough. He could get behind easy money at the cost of blackening human souls, no problems there. Planting the suggestion in the minds of a few of the local eminences that the bastard deserved to be a prince (based mostly on good looks, money, and the four hundred-odd desert ruffians he'd bribed with the gold from said treasure caves - he'd barely even needed Crowley for that, that was how any number of princes rose these days), not much of a hardship. He'd done as much for free, without bloody orders, and hadn't minded so much. Okay, the little toerag was exceptionally rude about it, and condescending, and frankly creepy sometimes, but it was no worse than Crowley got from Down Below on a regular basis.
But then ... then the little bugger had decided he wanted a emirate on top of it. And there was only one available, really, within decent travelling distance, and unfortunately it already had an Amir, but ... well, that was easy enough to solve, wasn't it? Once you'd gotten nice and friendly with the poor fool, maybe made some nice respectful noises about possibly marrying his daughter ... Which, actually might not be a bad plan, because hey, she's pretty nice-looking by all accounts, and rich, and that's an easy in, and maybe Crowley might like to bamboozle that proud father into agreeing to the match? Oh, and forcing the girl herself to fall in love with him, thanks awfully.
Which was when Crowley had made the mistake of trying to explain, nice and politely, that he couldn't force people to fall in love. Wheedle, tempt, hit with the old lust-magic, no problem. Any time you like, old son, and it was hardly the first time. But love ... love was a matter of free will, and there was nothing Crowley could do to force it.
If he'd phrased it differently, he might have gotten away with it. It wasn't like the little bastard was all that big on romance, after all. A nice bit of lust would have done him just fine. But Crowley had been pissy, and annoyed, and in the mood to be pedantic, and Aladdin had not taken that at all well. Little bastard really didn't like it when people said 'no'.
That was when Crowley had gotten reminded of the whole 'Torment of the Blazing Fire' part of the control-of-demons deal Michael had handed to the old King, Michael being generally an asshole.
The feeling of molten metal pouring through his veins, the sensation of fire across every inch of his skin ... it had almost caused his corporation's heart to fail. It had hurt. It had more than hurt. It wasn't like Hell, where the flames that tortured humans so much were mostly used by demons to keep warm, and maybe have a nice scale-bath while shedding. This wasn't like that. This was holy fire, set into the Ring by archangels, and it hurt like fuck. Like fire inside his veins, until he wanted to claw himself apart, inescapable, and for a while there his screams had been so loud that the thieves swore blind Aladdin had almost dropped the Ring in terror.
If Crowley had known that at the time, he'd have tried to give it a little more volume, but he hadn't exactly been thinking at that point.
Things had changed, after that. What had been a minor (and, alright, rather worrisome) annoyance suddenly became intolerable. Before, he'd been technically a slave, because fighting someone who commanded the Ring was not exactly a healthy option, but it hadn't involved anything his normal job didn't, and at least he'd known the little twerp would be dead in a few years. Aladdin wasn't getting any younger. But this ... This had given the kid ideas. It had given the bastard a taste of something he really, really enjoyed, and no way could Crowley bear to spend years, maybe even decades, going through that ...
So here he was. Bound and chained, and set for the Amir's palace alongside his new 'master', and scrambling his brains trying to think of a way to escape. And a way to entice a young woman into love with the barbarian at his side, because Aladdin had learned that he didn't have to hear the word 'no' ever again, and trying to explain the whole 'free will' thing again was not high on Crowley's list of things to do this century. He felt a little guilty about it, because that was emphatically not a fate he'd wish on anyone, but it wasn't like he had a choice anymore.
Oh yes. When this was done, when he managed to escape, Arrangement or no Arrangement, Heaven's cause down here was getting set back by centuries. He swore it. If they were going to leave weapons like that lying around, they could damn well pay the price!
***
"Lord Azhar, the Amira has requested an audience with you."
Aziraphale blinked, looking up from his contemplation of a very nice collection of religious and medicinal manuscripts, with the occasional alchemical or mathematical treatise thrown in that he hadn't managed to weed out yet (for reasons of personal taste, of course, not any reflection on their value). The Amir's library had been made open to him two months ago, and he'd been slowly working his way through it, sorting as he went, and picking out a few things ... well, the man had offered him a reward for saving his daughter's life (a curse, nasty thing, positively demonic, but it had only taken a small miracle, really, it wasn't worth all this fuss), and naturally it was bad form to actually take him up on it, but then he'd been shown this library ...
He shook his head, refocusing on the servant waiting quietly below him, in the doorway. What had he said ... oh, that Janan had asked for him. Right. Yes. Well, the poor girl had been through a lot, she was probably feeling a little unwell again. The illness from her mother's curse had taken a while to shift, and he hadn't wanted to rush things. The title of 'sorcerer' was enough trouble, he didn't want them to get properly nervous about him.
Not that the Amir had been nervous, really. Quite the opposite. The man had been making noises that Aziraphale, or rather Lord Azhar, might consider settling down, perhaps taking a wife? And wasn't his daughter a beautiful creature, too? Aziraphale had had to put that idea down quickly. Not least because the girl herself would never have forgiven him, not when she'd nursed a secret affection for the Vizier, Jafar, for quite a long time, which Aziraphale quite approved of. A good man, this Jafar. Quiet, clever. A firm friend of the Amir, and a long-time admirer of Janan, if his thoughts were anything to go by ... No. Aziraphale could not in good conscience come between such a lovely pair. Nor could he resist perhaps planting a few gentle hints to the Amir himself, that his friend would make a very worthy suitor ...
Entirely irresponsible, of course, to meddle so. Absolutely not something he should be spending his time doing. But ... well, they seemed so happy, the pair of them, now that she was fitter and healthier, her eyes shining fit to light up the court behind her veil, and the serious young man was walking higher every day, seeing the change in her. Happiness and love, that was definitely his concern, and neither of them had put a foot beyond their boundaries, or caused anyone any grief through their love. He was sure his superiors would forgive his little efforts to ease their path.
He smiled at the thought, hurrying through the palace, nodding happily to whatever servants and courtiers happened to pass him. They smiled back, bobbing respectfully, despite their earlier fear of the strange, foreign sorcerer with his blue eyes and command of strange powers. Aziraphale was quite relieved by that, too ...
He stopped, coming to a halt outside the amira's visiting salon, frowning as he heard what sounded terribly like weeping from within. What sounded terribly like Janan weeping, and oh, that would not do. That wouldn't do at all.
"My dear," he called softly, nodding to the guards as he moved into the room, meeting the anxious and relieved gaze of Karimah, her servant and companion (and protector, though most didn't realise that, but Aziraphale knew full well that there were a number of deadly little items beneath the sweep of Kari's clothing). The usually stern and imperturbable woman looked almost harried as her mistress' sobs carried from behind the screen, and Aziraphale felt his hands come up to flutter in concern.
"Oh, Lord Azhar!" Janan cried, stepping out from behind her screen and running to him. Aziraphale flinched a little, instinctively, because one thing he should definitely not be doing was seeing the young girl without her veil, but the Amir trusted Karimah to defend his daughter's virtue, and the poor dear was far too distressed right now to care. She leapt into his arms, and buried her face in his chest, sobbing furiously, while he made frantic gestures of apology to Kari over her head. The older woman glowered at him, and mouthed an instruction to comfort the girl, or so help her ... Aziraphale swallowed, and hastily focused on Janan.
"Amira," he murmured, rubbing her shoulders gently. "Janan. My dear, what has happened!" Her sobs only climbed in volume, until Aziraphale really began to be alarmed. "Hush now, my dear! I'm sure it can't be so horrible ... please, calm down, dear one, and tell me what's happened." He hugged her close, stroking her hair gently, until she started to calm down, hiccuping desperately.
"It's terrible, Azhar! Terrible!" she managed, pulling back to rub at her eyes, looking terribly pale and fragile. She still wasn't in any state to go through such a shock, and Aziraphale felt a brief surge of annoyance at whoever had upset her so.
"What's terrible, dear one?" he asked gently, holding out a scrap of muslin hurriedly in case she started crying again. But Janan had managed to collect herself, stepping back properly and flushing faintly as she realised her impropriety, and the tears had stopped more or less completely.
"A suitor has come," she explained, voice cracking slightly. "A Prince has come asking to marry me, Lord Azhar. And my father ... my father ..." She stopped, almost crying again, and took a deep breath to get the rest out as coherently as possible. "My father, for some reason I can't understand, because I ... I thought he understood about ... about myself and Jafar ... but he says ... Oh Azhar!" she cried, suddenly, reaching out for him again. "Azhar, he says I must marry Prince Aladdin! He says we are to be married within the month! What am I to do!" And she threw herself back into his arms, sobbing heartbrokenly.
Aziraphale, for his part, simply looked up past Karimah's fierce, angry face, and stared into the middle distance for a long moment, rubbing carefully at the girl's shoulders. A suitor ... and the Amir had agreed to his suit? Despite the fact that even yesterday he had, as Janan said, looked kindly on Jafar's? Helped along, of course, by Aziraphale's own gentle nudgings? That was ... exceedingly unlikely. Unless ...
His eyes narrowed, sparking for a moment with a deeper blue as Karimah began to smile. No. This couldn't be tolerated, not after all his work. This Aladdin person, whoever he was, was going to have to be investigated ... and if Aziraphale found so much as a shred of proof for what he suspected, so much as a hint ... then this Prince was going to be in for a very sharp shock indeed. Oh yes.
If they were going to make his friends unhappy, they could pay the price!
EDIT: Fanart and fanfic by the fabulous
nimmenstjer here. They're awesome!Author's Notes:
If the Aladdin story from One Thousand and One Nights was real, and involved our favourite angel and demon, basically. It started out as an AU idea, and then became sort of ... not. *grins sheepishly* I'm going to guess it's set somewhere in Persia, probably during the early (I was thinking 10th Century?) Abbasid Caliphate, but don't quote me on that -_-;
References various scraps of One Thousand and One Nights, perhaps a little of the Disney version of Aladdin (since I didn't want it to be set in China, like the original), and some of the Islamic/Judaic myths surrounding King Solomon, including that of the Ring of Aandaleeb.
Name meanings, since I'm having fun with them (all Arabic, so far):
Azhar - most shining, luminous (on a boy, anyway)
Janan - heart, soul
Karimah - generous, noble
Amir - or emir, meaning roughly commander/general/prince - regional rulers during the Caliphate. I used that instead of 'sultan' because sultans generally came later, after the Abbasid dynasty had started to fail, and the term was often taken as a snub against the caliph. And possibly I put way too much thought into that ...
If the Aladdin story from One Thousand and One Nights was real, and involved our favourite angel and demon, basically. It started out as an AU idea, and then became sort of ... not. *grins sheepishly* I'm going to guess it's set somewhere in Persia, probably during the early (I was thinking 10th Century?) Abbasid Caliphate, but don't quote me on that -_-;
References various scraps of One Thousand and One Nights, perhaps a little of the Disney version of Aladdin (since I didn't want it to be set in China, like the original), and some of the Islamic/Judaic myths surrounding King Solomon, including that of the Ring of Aandaleeb.
Name meanings, since I'm having fun with them (all Arabic, so far):
Azhar - most shining, luminous (on a boy, anyway)
Janan - heart, soul
Karimah - generous, noble
Amir - or emir, meaning roughly commander/general/prince - regional rulers during the Caliphate. I used that instead of 'sultan' because sultans generally came later, after the Abbasid dynasty had started to fail, and the term was often taken as a snub against the caliph. And possibly I put way too much thought into that ...
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