Fic: Arabian Nights - Ch. 1
Title: Arabian Nights
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Mohinder/Gabriel
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The story of a prince, a watchmaker, and the magical lamp that changed their lives.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Aladdin.
Warnings: Humor, Slash, AU, Language
Prologue
You knew your life had gone to a dark, sad place when a mere loaf of bread looked like a banquet, and as Gabriel sat behind his desk, picking at the dry lump of food he knew that he had not hit rock bottom, but had been living there for far too many years. The word success had never been a part of his vocabulary and for as long as he could remember this sad little joke of a business had always been an outstanding failure. Just as it had been when his father had passed away.
Keeping the business going had seemed like a good idea at the time and somehow his mother had him convinced that he would be a great success. Yet when she died only a few years after her husband, the reality of his situation came crashing in around him. He was good at his job, he could restore time pieces of all shapes and models, but that didn't matter when there was nothing to restore. People didn't keep clocks here. It was an accessory for the very rich and frivolous, the type that didn't frequent this part of the city, and most people were still content to tell time using just the sun and the stars.
All of his money went into keeping his business alive. Gabriel couldn't afford a real home, or shoes, or clothes that didn't require patches, or even food. This building was his home, he made good with what little he had, but it wasn't enough. It didn't keep the gnawing hunger away. It didn't stop him from shivering in the middle of the night. It didn't keep the miserable taste of failure off of his tongue.
The young man ripped off a piece of the bread and popped it into his mouth. He grimaced. It was stale, bitter, and nearly impossible to chew. Gabriel sighed, silently wishing he had something, anything else to eat.
The thought had barely even entered his mind when an apple suddenly dropped from seemingly nowhere and into his lap. He blinked, pushing himself away from his desk as he looked up, not at all surprised to find a small, furry body scurrying away sheepishly.
A forceful, booming knock came at his front door only a moment later and Gabriel knew instantly just who it was.
With a tired, reluctant sigh, the watchmaker headed towards the door, opening it just a crack. He was greeted by the tall, imposing form of Captain Parkman and three other guards. "Captain Parkman," Gabriel greeted; his voice steady with practiced innocence. Unfortunately, this was not the first time the royal guards had come knocking at his door. "Is something the matter?"
"Hello, Gabriel," Parkman returned, mock pleasantry clear in his voice. "We've been getting several complaints of pick-pocketing this morning from citizens in the marketplace. Each of them seem to recall seeing a tiny monkey at the scene of the crime and since you're the only person in this city who keeps a pet monkey-"
"I told you, Captain, I don't have any pets," the boy lied. "I barely have enough food to feed myself; I couldn't afford to keep an animal alive!"
Captain Parkman frowned. He didn't believe him, he never did. They had played this game far too many times. Gabriel had found the simian years ago, barely alive hidden inside a crate of gears. He hadn't bothered to question how the creature had gotten there, he'd merely done his best to care for it and nurse it back to life. It was only after the monkey had returned to full health did Gabriel start to realize it had been trained to steal. Food, coins, jewels, and other trinkets would appear in his shop each morning, piled up in corners or left at his feet, a makeshift offering of friendship and appreciation.
Needless to say, it all resulted in Captain Parkman and his men visiting Gabriel's shop each and every day to question him about the stolen goods. The captain of the guards wasn't a bad man -- he looked at Gabriel's innocent brown eyes, boney physique, and ragged clothing and knew that the young man couldn't afford to be penalized and fined for crimes that weren't directly his fault -- but he was also dedicated to his position, and they both knew that he wouldn't be able to continue letting the watchmaker off with warnings forever.
Captain Parkman sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he gave Gabriel a long hard stare. "Well then I suppose you wouldn't mind us having a look around."
Gabriel shrugged, stepping aside to allow them in. "Go right ahead," he told them boldly, the only time he could actually afford to be bold.
The captain gave his men a quick nod and they scattered, looking through every inch of the store for any trace of the animal or his stolen goods. They wouldn't find anything. The monkey was good at hiding and Gabriel already knew that the creature had probably completely disappeared by now.
"I can't keep turning a blind eye, Gabriel," Captain Parkman chided, his voice soft so that only the young man would be able to hear him. "You really gotta get that pet of yours under control, or else I'm actually going to have to lock you up."
Gabriel frowned, bowing his head and hunching his shoulders as he shrunk into himself. A part of him was tempted to ask the captain to just take him away. Being locked up in the dungeons couldn't have been much worse than this pathetic little existence of his. "I understand," he whispered back.
"No sign of anything unusual, Sir," one of the guards reported.
Captain Parkman heaved what looked like a weary sigh, but Gabriel could tell that the man was really relieved not to have to drag a starving young man off to jail. He gave his men a signal and they all piled out. Once they were gone, he turned to Gabriel. "Listen kid, this is your last warning. I mean it this time. If I have to come back to this shop again, then I'll have no other choice but to take you in, got it?"
Gabriel nodded and then Parkman was gone. Once the door was closed and firmly latched shut, another apple fell from the ceiling and right onto his bare foot. He scowled, glaring up at the monkey that leapt down and stared at him with wide brown eyes.
"You know, you're a lot more trouble than you're worth, Luke," Gabriel chided. "This stealing business has to stop."
The monkey squeaked, looking perfectly sheepish, just as he did every single time Gabriel attempted to break him of this habit.
He sighed, picking the apple up and studying it carefully. "Just this once," the young man muttered before taking a generous bite. It was crisp, fresh, and the young man could not hold back the little moan of pleasure that escaped his lips. "We don't tell anyone about this, okay?"
Luke nodded, squeaked, and then scurried away.
Gabriel was about to ask where he was going when the sound of cheering and trumpets caught his attention. He looked towards his window and saw that a large crowd had gathered in the streets. The watchmaker knew he wouldn't be able to see a thing from here, so he quickly went into his backroom and climbed up the rickety latter into the upper storage level which doubled as his bedroom. Luke was already there, sitting perched by the window and gazing down at the streets below. Gabriel walked over to see what was happening.
He would have called it a parade if there were more people, but really it was just a caravan of royals. There were a few people toting the banners of a far off kingdom and a few white horses pulling along a carriage decorated with lush red fabric and golden jewels. Gabriel smiled, noticing that the carriage was on a direct path towards the palace. It looked as if the prince was about to meet with yet another potential fiancée.
It was the third princess that month to come along in an attempt to win over the soon-to-be sultan, but apparently none had struck his fancy. Gabriel snorted, turning away from the parade in disgust. He couldn't get a woman to look at him if he were bleeding from the neck, yet the prince had women willing to cross the scorching desert just to see him. The watchmaker had to wonder what sort of man the prince was to toss all these princesses aside so carelessly.
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The sun set and rose, and before he could even be served his morning tea, Chandra found himself having to halt in his tracks as a whirlwind of ebony hair and red silk zoomed by. The sultan frowned, turning to watch as the princess scrambled up the stairs, huffing and puffing as tears poured down her flushed cheeks.
"Princess?" he called out, half heartedly chasing after her. Chandra already knew from her frantic retreat that there was no way to stop her from leaving. This small act of comfort was all he could offer in the vague hope that relations between their two kingdoms would not completely dissolve. "Princess Mira, whatever is the matter?"
Mira took in a deep, quivering breath, stopping just long enough for Chandra to see that her once perfectly combed black hair was now a tangled mess and her beautiful crimson gown was almost completely ripped to shreds. "I... I have n-n-never been treated so... poorly before in my life!" she half sobbed, half screamed as frightened tears burned their way down her cheeks. "That... that... that beast will make a poor sultan to say the least! And as a husband..." her words were cut off as she turned and marched the rest of the way towards the guest chamber.
Within the hour she would have all her bags packed and be gone forever, just like every other princess who had come before her.
"Good luck finding a wife for that!" she bellowed, slamming the door shut with such force that Chandra actually felt his teeth shake.
The sultan frowned, rubbing a tired hand over his face as he turned and marched back downstairs. That stubborn son of his would have a lot of explaining to do.
He found Mohinder in the garden, just as he was each and every morning, casually lounging by the fountain and reading some book he had most likely "borrowed" from Chandra's private library. "Mohinder!" he barked, but the boy didn't so much as stir. "Mohinder, what-"
The question didn't have time to form as Nirand appeared seemingly out of nowhere, snarling and growling protectively. Chandra jumped, wishing not for the first time that he had never given the boy that damn tiger when he saw the strips of red fabric caught between his massive fangs.
"Confound it, Nirand!" he bellowed, shoving the tiger away. The tiger growled, but its ears instinctively folded back as he sheepishly scampered towards Mohinder. In spite of the beast's massive size and fierce demeanor, he was, in the end, merely a house cat. "I suppose this is why Princess Mira ran off?"
Mohinder scoffed, putting his book aside as Nirand rubbed his head against the prince's knees, begging for the attention the boy always eagerly gave him. "I warned her not to fuss with Nirand," he commented dryly, scratching the tiger just behind his ear. "He's terribly irritable when he doesn't get his breakfast."
Chandra felt his blood boil as he watched Mohinder coo and fuss over that dammed animal. It was the only thing he seemed to care about anymore. "Mohinder, enough is enough!" Chandra barked, determined to get the boy's attention. "You can't keep rejecting every princess that comes to visit."
Not that Mohinder needed to reject the princesses anymore. After word got out about the unfortunate bug incident with Princess Maya, there wasn't a king foolish enough to send their daughter to see the now infamous Prince Mohinder. They had been fortunate to get Mira; her father seemed to have been one of the few royals not to have heard of the case with Maya. Yet now thanks to Mohinder's reckless behavior it was all ruined.
However, none of it seemed to matter to the boy. His face managed to turn slightly sheepish at being scolded, but Chandra could not find a shred of remorse for his actions in the boy's deep brown eyes.
"How do you expect to find a wife if you keep acting this way?" the sultan chided, watching as his son squirmed, his face quickly becoming irate the more he spoke. "You've only got three more days until your eighteenth birthday, and the law says you need to be married by then."
"Do you really expect me to fall in love with a complete stranger in less than three days?" Mohinder snapped, an indignant gleam in his eyes.
"This isn't about love!" Chandra shot back. "This is about duty. I am not going to be around forever, Mohinder. You are going to have to become sultan, and how can I expect you to run a kingdom if you are not yet married?"
"I don't want to be forced into something so... so permanent," the boy argued. "I don't even understand the need for me to marry now, or at all for that matter! I can be a perfectly fine sultan without a wife. And how am I supposed to have a real relationship when I've never even set foot outside of this palace?"
Chandra groaned, scrubbing at his face wearily as he struggled to grasp what Mohinder was saying. He couldn't understand the boy anymore. Ever since his mother had passed away Mohinder had become nearly impossible to deal with. "What are you saying, Mohinder? Do you want to go out and meet the potentials yourself?"
The prince huffed, throwing his arms up wearily. "You're not listening to me at all, are you? I'm saying... I'm saying I'm miserable. I don't have a life, I don't have any friends except for Nirand, and you're asking me to get married? It's insane!"
"Mohinder, you're a prince. This is your duty."
The boy frowned, bowing his head in what Chandra hoped was defeat, yet from the way his dark hands clutched at the rim of the water fountain, the sultan already knew the fight hadn't quite left him yet. "Well, I suppose I don't want to be a prince anymore."
Chandra flinched, caught off guard by the statement. He knew that Mohinder was still just a child, he didn't understand what he was saying, but the words were like a knife in his chest and hearing them made him feel sick inside. "Go to your room," Chandra ordered. "And don't you dare come down until I'm ready to look at you."
Mohinder did as he was told, the stubborn frown never leaving his face. He made to grab the book he had been reading, but Chandra snatched it away. Just as he had suspected, one of his. He watched as Nirand followed after the boy, and although Chandra wanted to stop him, he said nothing.
Once Mohinder was out of sight, the Sultan let out a long, frustrated groan. He had been Mohinder's age once, he knew how it felt to be a teenager, but he couldn't remember ever looking at the prospect of marriage the way Mohinder did. He supposed it was just another thing that they did not have in common. Chandra huffed, heading back into the throne room, intent on leafing through a few novels in order to get to the bottom of this problem.
"Is there something troubling you, your highness?"
Chandra flinched, his heart jumping out of his chest at the sudden intrusion in the otherwise silent room. He turned towards the main entrance to see that it was only his royal vizier. He scowled, irritated how easily the man could sneak up on him.
"Thompson?" he breathed, his heart finally settling down. "Where have you been?"
Thompson shrugged indifferently as he entered the throne room. "An urgent matter required my attention, but it has been taken care of. What ails you, my lord?"
The sultan sighed, removing his turban and running a tired hand over his scalp. He was grateful to have Thompson back after his unexpected absence. The vizier always helped him to come up with a brilliant solution to any problem. "The usual, I'm afraid," Chandra lamented. "It seems Mohinder has scared away yet another princess."
The man smirked, his gaze shifting towards the direction of the guest bedrooms. It was only when Thompson turned his head did Chandra finally notice the parrot perched on the vizier's broad shoulder. He scowled. There were far too many animals wandering around the palace. There were times the sultan felt as if his castle were turning into a menagerie. "Yes, I thought I saw Princess Mira sobbing as she ordered her servants to pack her bags."
"I don't know what to do with that boy anymore," he sighed, stuffing his turban back on his head irritably. "There's only three days left until his eighteenth birthday and he seems determined not to find himself a wife!"
"Perhaps Mohinder would benefit from a stronger hand."
Chandra sighed, shaking his head wearily. "I doubt that there is any princess-"
"Perhaps it's not a princess Mohinder is interested in."
The sultan frowned, his vizier's words fully sinking in as he turned to stare at the man. "You don't think Mohinder is... He cannot be!"
Thompson put up his hands defensively, his parrot fluttering its wings as it hopped from the vizier's shoulder to the head of the golden serpent staff that the man always carried. "Merely a suggestion, your highness," he said quickly. "After all, every princess who has come to court has been rejected. Obviously, there is some quality that they lack."
Chandra felt his frown deepen. It made some sense, but even if it were true... "Even if that were true, it doesn't help this situation. Mohinder must find a wife to become sultan. It's the law."
"Well, your highness you are the sultan," the advisor put in dismissively. "You could always change the law around. And just imagine how much Agrabah will benefit from having two sultans to rule over it?"
The sultan sighed, rubbing at his eyes wearily. He was at his wits end with the whole marriage situation and some of what Thompson was suggesting did seem to make sense, but he doubted that a prince would have any more success courting the boy than the princesses. Mohinder seemed to have an uncanny ability to send anyone with even the most remote interest in him running for safety. "I don't think the council will approve of this idea."
"I'll take care of the council, my lord," Thompson smiled, bowing low as he gripped the sultan's hand in his. "I could even use my powers to find a suitable prince... but it will require the help of a blue diamond."
Chandra frowned, his eyes instinctively going to the large blue jewel decorating the ring on his finger. "It's a family heir loom," the Sultan muttered, pulling his hand out of Thompson's grasp.
It was then that the parrot flew off of the royal vizier's staff and back onto his shoulder as the golden serpent head slowly creep closer towards him. "Don't worry, your highness," Thompson smirked, his eyes twinkling as Chandra's vision slowly blurred. The world was suddenly dipped in red as his hearing became muffled. He was barely able to hear as the royal vizier whispered, "Everything will be fine."
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Thompson beamed, stuffing the sultan's ring into his belt as he walked out of the throne room and towards his hidden lair. It was times such as this that the little games he played with sultan seemed far too easy.
"That plan was ridiculous," Candice laughed, her feathers puffing and pluming with glee. "There is no way you're going to convince that stuffy old council, let alone the people, to approve of the crown prince being married to a man."
He snorted, rolling his eyes at the bird's statement. "Never mind the council, there's no way that dear Prince Mohinder would approve of the suggestion."
"The brat," Candice snorted, but Thompson stayed silent.
To a degree, he did feel some pity for the prince. The boy's troubles had started around the same time as Thompson's. After the unfortunate death of the young Princess Shanti, the sultan became so wrapped up in his own pain that he was barely aware of what was going on around him. Most of his days were spent locked away in his study or his personal library, reading books and researching subjects that did not pertain to his kingdom and leaving many of his important decisions to his councilors.
Taxes sky rocketed, crime boomed, and the standard of living plummeted. The sultan soon became so distracted that even his own wife's death went virtually unnoticed. It was around that time that Mohinder stopped reaching out to his father, closing himself off from everyone and learning to lean only on himself.
Of course, Thompson's sympathies ended there as Mohinder was really nothing more than a thorn in his side. When Chandra's mind began to drift away, it was then that Thompson felt certain that he was better equipped to rule Agrabah and should replace the man as sultan. He plotted and schemed in the darkness of his hidden chamber, with Candice as his only alley, working for years to figure out just how to go about usurping the thrown. No one suspected anything.
No one except Mohinder. The boy had never openly called him out on it, but Thompson knew just from looking into those dark brown eyes that the child knew the royal vizier was planning something. It was fortunate that even without the use of his magic Chandra still held Thompson's opinion in higher regard than his own son's, something that surely got under the boy's skin.
"Don't worry Candice," the man smirked. "Soon, I will be sultan and the bratty prince and his father will be out on the street."
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The only benefit that could be said about being locked away inside the palace for so long was that it gave him the opportunity to study every aspect of palace life. The day light hours were the busiest, filled with servants scurrying about, making sure that everything was clean, organized, and prepared well before an expectant royal would ever need it. It was the time when the people within the walls of the palace were watched the closest by the guards, a terrible time to make an unexpected move.
Many would think that the night was best time to move, but they would be only half right. At night, there were different levels of activity. The guards wandered through the halls at all times, but in the early hours of the evening and the very beginning of the morning the servants worked while the royals and council members slumbered. It was the between times, from midnight to four in the morn, that things were at their calmest. By midnight the night servants had all gone off to bed and the morning shift would not have to check in for several hours. The guards changed shifts at approximately two, but by one they were all drained, aloof, and not nearly as alert.
It was at exactly one in the morning that Mohinder decided to sneak out. He had been preparing for this day for years. Memorizing every step the palace guards took, which spots were the darkest, and just how quickly he could move without making a sound.
He stood in the darkness of the courtyard, the cold air biting into his skin as he pressed himself flat against the base of a large tree. The prince had never really wanted to leave. Running away was something he had often fantasized about as a child, planned for several years, but he had never taken those thoughts seriously. Yet his father had forced his hand. It was only after today that Mohinder finally realized that this was the only way, the only possible way for him to be free, to have a life, because his father was fixed on getting him married at all costs.
The day he had turned seventeen was the day the sultan had realized that time was running out, and suddenly every available princess was being thrust into his arms. He didn't want any of them. They were all nice in their own way, but there was nothing to them. They were dull, empty headed girls, with no opinions of their own and the idea of spending the rest of his life with someone he couldn't even have a decent conversation with, who didn't understand that there was more to life than sitting on a throne and telling people what to do frightened him.
That evening, when he was sitting alone in his room, Mohinder came to the startling realization that in all the years of his young life, his father had never been quite so involved with him until this marriage business had come about. The thought made him feel sad, lonely, yet not at all surprised.
Glancing just around the corner, he watched as one of the guards disappeared into the palace. The prince knew then that he had to move quickly. He pushed himself away from the tree sprinting towards the wall that separated the palace from the rest of Agrabah. His freedom, his new life, was waiting for him just over that wall.
His hands were trembling as he gripped the low hanging branch of the tree he had climbed so many times in the past. As a child, he had been content to merely climb to the tallest branch and stare out over the other side of the wall at the world just beyond his. It wasn't enough anymore.
The prince had barely gotten his foot off the ground, when he felt something stop him. He frowned, turning to see that the rags he had slipped into were now being held gingerly between Nirand's massive teeth. Mohinder felt his heart clench at the sight of the Bengal tiger's wide brown eyes staring up at him, begging him not to leave.
"I'm sorry, Nirand," he whispered, pushing away from the tree in order to gently pull the cloth out of the jungle cat's mouth, "but I can't stay here and have my life lived for me." He really was sorry. Nirand was a dear friend, his only friend, but if he was to have a real life he couldn't possibly cling to a tiger as his only companion. His eyes stung with tears as he wrapped his arms around the tiger's neck, burying his face into the soft orange and black fur. Nirand's paw fell onto his lap, and for a moment, Mohinder felt certain that he would cry. "I'll miss you."
He reluctantly pulled away, tears blurring his vision and a lump welling in his throat as he turned back towards the tree. This time, Nirand did not stop him. Instead, he felt the tiger give him a slight, reluctant boost as he climbed the first few branches. In no time at all he was leaping from the tree and over the edge of the wall.
His new life had started.
Chapter 2 - The Marketplace
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Mohinder/Gabriel
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The story of a prince, a watchmaker, and the magical lamp that changed their lives.
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Aladdin.
Warnings: Humor, Slash, AU, Language
Prologue
You knew your life had gone to a dark, sad place when a mere loaf of bread looked like a banquet, and as Gabriel sat behind his desk, picking at the dry lump of food he knew that he had not hit rock bottom, but had been living there for far too many years. The word success had never been a part of his vocabulary and for as long as he could remember this sad little joke of a business had always been an outstanding failure. Just as it had been when his father had passed away.
Keeping the business going had seemed like a good idea at the time and somehow his mother had him convinced that he would be a great success. Yet when she died only a few years after her husband, the reality of his situation came crashing in around him. He was good at his job, he could restore time pieces of all shapes and models, but that didn't matter when there was nothing to restore. People didn't keep clocks here. It was an accessory for the very rich and frivolous, the type that didn't frequent this part of the city, and most people were still content to tell time using just the sun and the stars.
All of his money went into keeping his business alive. Gabriel couldn't afford a real home, or shoes, or clothes that didn't require patches, or even food. This building was his home, he made good with what little he had, but it wasn't enough. It didn't keep the gnawing hunger away. It didn't stop him from shivering in the middle of the night. It didn't keep the miserable taste of failure off of his tongue.
The young man ripped off a piece of the bread and popped it into his mouth. He grimaced. It was stale, bitter, and nearly impossible to chew. Gabriel sighed, silently wishing he had something, anything else to eat.
The thought had barely even entered his mind when an apple suddenly dropped from seemingly nowhere and into his lap. He blinked, pushing himself away from his desk as he looked up, not at all surprised to find a small, furry body scurrying away sheepishly.
A forceful, booming knock came at his front door only a moment later and Gabriel knew instantly just who it was.
With a tired, reluctant sigh, the watchmaker headed towards the door, opening it just a crack. He was greeted by the tall, imposing form of Captain Parkman and three other guards. "Captain Parkman," Gabriel greeted; his voice steady with practiced innocence. Unfortunately, this was not the first time the royal guards had come knocking at his door. "Is something the matter?"
"Hello, Gabriel," Parkman returned, mock pleasantry clear in his voice. "We've been getting several complaints of pick-pocketing this morning from citizens in the marketplace. Each of them seem to recall seeing a tiny monkey at the scene of the crime and since you're the only person in this city who keeps a pet monkey-"
"I told you, Captain, I don't have any pets," the boy lied. "I barely have enough food to feed myself; I couldn't afford to keep an animal alive!"
Captain Parkman frowned. He didn't believe him, he never did. They had played this game far too many times. Gabriel had found the simian years ago, barely alive hidden inside a crate of gears. He hadn't bothered to question how the creature had gotten there, he'd merely done his best to care for it and nurse it back to life. It was only after the monkey had returned to full health did Gabriel start to realize it had been trained to steal. Food, coins, jewels, and other trinkets would appear in his shop each morning, piled up in corners or left at his feet, a makeshift offering of friendship and appreciation.
Needless to say, it all resulted in Captain Parkman and his men visiting Gabriel's shop each and every day to question him about the stolen goods. The captain of the guards wasn't a bad man -- he looked at Gabriel's innocent brown eyes, boney physique, and ragged clothing and knew that the young man couldn't afford to be penalized and fined for crimes that weren't directly his fault -- but he was also dedicated to his position, and they both knew that he wouldn't be able to continue letting the watchmaker off with warnings forever.
Captain Parkman sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he gave Gabriel a long hard stare. "Well then I suppose you wouldn't mind us having a look around."
Gabriel shrugged, stepping aside to allow them in. "Go right ahead," he told them boldly, the only time he could actually afford to be bold.
The captain gave his men a quick nod and they scattered, looking through every inch of the store for any trace of the animal or his stolen goods. They wouldn't find anything. The monkey was good at hiding and Gabriel already knew that the creature had probably completely disappeared by now.
"I can't keep turning a blind eye, Gabriel," Captain Parkman chided, his voice soft so that only the young man would be able to hear him. "You really gotta get that pet of yours under control, or else I'm actually going to have to lock you up."
Gabriel frowned, bowing his head and hunching his shoulders as he shrunk into himself. A part of him was tempted to ask the captain to just take him away. Being locked up in the dungeons couldn't have been much worse than this pathetic little existence of his. "I understand," he whispered back.
"No sign of anything unusual, Sir," one of the guards reported.
Captain Parkman heaved what looked like a weary sigh, but Gabriel could tell that the man was really relieved not to have to drag a starving young man off to jail. He gave his men a signal and they all piled out. Once they were gone, he turned to Gabriel. "Listen kid, this is your last warning. I mean it this time. If I have to come back to this shop again, then I'll have no other choice but to take you in, got it?"
Gabriel nodded and then Parkman was gone. Once the door was closed and firmly latched shut, another apple fell from the ceiling and right onto his bare foot. He scowled, glaring up at the monkey that leapt down and stared at him with wide brown eyes.
"You know, you're a lot more trouble than you're worth, Luke," Gabriel chided. "This stealing business has to stop."
The monkey squeaked, looking perfectly sheepish, just as he did every single time Gabriel attempted to break him of this habit.
He sighed, picking the apple up and studying it carefully. "Just this once," the young man muttered before taking a generous bite. It was crisp, fresh, and the young man could not hold back the little moan of pleasure that escaped his lips. "We don't tell anyone about this, okay?"
Luke nodded, squeaked, and then scurried away.
Gabriel was about to ask where he was going when the sound of cheering and trumpets caught his attention. He looked towards his window and saw that a large crowd had gathered in the streets. The watchmaker knew he wouldn't be able to see a thing from here, so he quickly went into his backroom and climbed up the rickety latter into the upper storage level which doubled as his bedroom. Luke was already there, sitting perched by the window and gazing down at the streets below. Gabriel walked over to see what was happening.
He would have called it a parade if there were more people, but really it was just a caravan of royals. There were a few people toting the banners of a far off kingdom and a few white horses pulling along a carriage decorated with lush red fabric and golden jewels. Gabriel smiled, noticing that the carriage was on a direct path towards the palace. It looked as if the prince was about to meet with yet another potential fiancée.
It was the third princess that month to come along in an attempt to win over the soon-to-be sultan, but apparently none had struck his fancy. Gabriel snorted, turning away from the parade in disgust. He couldn't get a woman to look at him if he were bleeding from the neck, yet the prince had women willing to cross the scorching desert just to see him. The watchmaker had to wonder what sort of man the prince was to toss all these princesses aside so carelessly.
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The sun set and rose, and before he could even be served his morning tea, Chandra found himself having to halt in his tracks as a whirlwind of ebony hair and red silk zoomed by. The sultan frowned, turning to watch as the princess scrambled up the stairs, huffing and puffing as tears poured down her flushed cheeks.
"Princess?" he called out, half heartedly chasing after her. Chandra already knew from her frantic retreat that there was no way to stop her from leaving. This small act of comfort was all he could offer in the vague hope that relations between their two kingdoms would not completely dissolve. "Princess Mira, whatever is the matter?"
Mira took in a deep, quivering breath, stopping just long enough for Chandra to see that her once perfectly combed black hair was now a tangled mess and her beautiful crimson gown was almost completely ripped to shreds. "I... I have n-n-never been treated so... poorly before in my life!" she half sobbed, half screamed as frightened tears burned their way down her cheeks. "That... that... that beast will make a poor sultan to say the least! And as a husband..." her words were cut off as she turned and marched the rest of the way towards the guest chamber.
Within the hour she would have all her bags packed and be gone forever, just like every other princess who had come before her.
"Good luck finding a wife for that!" she bellowed, slamming the door shut with such force that Chandra actually felt his teeth shake.
The sultan frowned, rubbing a tired hand over his face as he turned and marched back downstairs. That stubborn son of his would have a lot of explaining to do.
He found Mohinder in the garden, just as he was each and every morning, casually lounging by the fountain and reading some book he had most likely "borrowed" from Chandra's private library. "Mohinder!" he barked, but the boy didn't so much as stir. "Mohinder, what-"
The question didn't have time to form as Nirand appeared seemingly out of nowhere, snarling and growling protectively. Chandra jumped, wishing not for the first time that he had never given the boy that damn tiger when he saw the strips of red fabric caught between his massive fangs.
"Confound it, Nirand!" he bellowed, shoving the tiger away. The tiger growled, but its ears instinctively folded back as he sheepishly scampered towards Mohinder. In spite of the beast's massive size and fierce demeanor, he was, in the end, merely a house cat. "I suppose this is why Princess Mira ran off?"
Mohinder scoffed, putting his book aside as Nirand rubbed his head against the prince's knees, begging for the attention the boy always eagerly gave him. "I warned her not to fuss with Nirand," he commented dryly, scratching the tiger just behind his ear. "He's terribly irritable when he doesn't get his breakfast."
Chandra felt his blood boil as he watched Mohinder coo and fuss over that dammed animal. It was the only thing he seemed to care about anymore. "Mohinder, enough is enough!" Chandra barked, determined to get the boy's attention. "You can't keep rejecting every princess that comes to visit."
Not that Mohinder needed to reject the princesses anymore. After word got out about the unfortunate bug incident with Princess Maya, there wasn't a king foolish enough to send their daughter to see the now infamous Prince Mohinder. They had been fortunate to get Mira; her father seemed to have been one of the few royals not to have heard of the case with Maya. Yet now thanks to Mohinder's reckless behavior it was all ruined.
However, none of it seemed to matter to the boy. His face managed to turn slightly sheepish at being scolded, but Chandra could not find a shred of remorse for his actions in the boy's deep brown eyes.
"How do you expect to find a wife if you keep acting this way?" the sultan chided, watching as his son squirmed, his face quickly becoming irate the more he spoke. "You've only got three more days until your eighteenth birthday, and the law says you need to be married by then."
"Do you really expect me to fall in love with a complete stranger in less than three days?" Mohinder snapped, an indignant gleam in his eyes.
"This isn't about love!" Chandra shot back. "This is about duty. I am not going to be around forever, Mohinder. You are going to have to become sultan, and how can I expect you to run a kingdom if you are not yet married?"
"I don't want to be forced into something so... so permanent," the boy argued. "I don't even understand the need for me to marry now, or at all for that matter! I can be a perfectly fine sultan without a wife. And how am I supposed to have a real relationship when I've never even set foot outside of this palace?"
Chandra groaned, scrubbing at his face wearily as he struggled to grasp what Mohinder was saying. He couldn't understand the boy anymore. Ever since his mother had passed away Mohinder had become nearly impossible to deal with. "What are you saying, Mohinder? Do you want to go out and meet the potentials yourself?"
The prince huffed, throwing his arms up wearily. "You're not listening to me at all, are you? I'm saying... I'm saying I'm miserable. I don't have a life, I don't have any friends except for Nirand, and you're asking me to get married? It's insane!"
"Mohinder, you're a prince. This is your duty."
The boy frowned, bowing his head in what Chandra hoped was defeat, yet from the way his dark hands clutched at the rim of the water fountain, the sultan already knew the fight hadn't quite left him yet. "Well, I suppose I don't want to be a prince anymore."
Chandra flinched, caught off guard by the statement. He knew that Mohinder was still just a child, he didn't understand what he was saying, but the words were like a knife in his chest and hearing them made him feel sick inside. "Go to your room," Chandra ordered. "And don't you dare come down until I'm ready to look at you."
Mohinder did as he was told, the stubborn frown never leaving his face. He made to grab the book he had been reading, but Chandra snatched it away. Just as he had suspected, one of his. He watched as Nirand followed after the boy, and although Chandra wanted to stop him, he said nothing.
Once Mohinder was out of sight, the Sultan let out a long, frustrated groan. He had been Mohinder's age once, he knew how it felt to be a teenager, but he couldn't remember ever looking at the prospect of marriage the way Mohinder did. He supposed it was just another thing that they did not have in common. Chandra huffed, heading back into the throne room, intent on leafing through a few novels in order to get to the bottom of this problem.
"Is there something troubling you, your highness?"
Chandra flinched, his heart jumping out of his chest at the sudden intrusion in the otherwise silent room. He turned towards the main entrance to see that it was only his royal vizier. He scowled, irritated how easily the man could sneak up on him.
"Thompson?" he breathed, his heart finally settling down. "Where have you been?"
Thompson shrugged indifferently as he entered the throne room. "An urgent matter required my attention, but it has been taken care of. What ails you, my lord?"
The sultan sighed, removing his turban and running a tired hand over his scalp. He was grateful to have Thompson back after his unexpected absence. The vizier always helped him to come up with a brilliant solution to any problem. "The usual, I'm afraid," Chandra lamented. "It seems Mohinder has scared away yet another princess."
The man smirked, his gaze shifting towards the direction of the guest bedrooms. It was only when Thompson turned his head did Chandra finally notice the parrot perched on the vizier's broad shoulder. He scowled. There were far too many animals wandering around the palace. There were times the sultan felt as if his castle were turning into a menagerie. "Yes, I thought I saw Princess Mira sobbing as she ordered her servants to pack her bags."
"I don't know what to do with that boy anymore," he sighed, stuffing his turban back on his head irritably. "There's only three days left until his eighteenth birthday and he seems determined not to find himself a wife!"
"Perhaps Mohinder would benefit from a stronger hand."
Chandra sighed, shaking his head wearily. "I doubt that there is any princess-"
"Perhaps it's not a princess Mohinder is interested in."
The sultan frowned, his vizier's words fully sinking in as he turned to stare at the man. "You don't think Mohinder is... He cannot be!"
Thompson put up his hands defensively, his parrot fluttering its wings as it hopped from the vizier's shoulder to the head of the golden serpent staff that the man always carried. "Merely a suggestion, your highness," he said quickly. "After all, every princess who has come to court has been rejected. Obviously, there is some quality that they lack."
Chandra felt his frown deepen. It made some sense, but even if it were true... "Even if that were true, it doesn't help this situation. Mohinder must find a wife to become sultan. It's the law."
"Well, your highness you are the sultan," the advisor put in dismissively. "You could always change the law around. And just imagine how much Agrabah will benefit from having two sultans to rule over it?"
The sultan sighed, rubbing at his eyes wearily. He was at his wits end with the whole marriage situation and some of what Thompson was suggesting did seem to make sense, but he doubted that a prince would have any more success courting the boy than the princesses. Mohinder seemed to have an uncanny ability to send anyone with even the most remote interest in him running for safety. "I don't think the council will approve of this idea."
"I'll take care of the council, my lord," Thompson smiled, bowing low as he gripped the sultan's hand in his. "I could even use my powers to find a suitable prince... but it will require the help of a blue diamond."
Chandra frowned, his eyes instinctively going to the large blue jewel decorating the ring on his finger. "It's a family heir loom," the Sultan muttered, pulling his hand out of Thompson's grasp.
It was then that the parrot flew off of the royal vizier's staff and back onto his shoulder as the golden serpent head slowly creep closer towards him. "Don't worry, your highness," Thompson smirked, his eyes twinkling as Chandra's vision slowly blurred. The world was suddenly dipped in red as his hearing became muffled. He was barely able to hear as the royal vizier whispered, "Everything will be fine."
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Thompson beamed, stuffing the sultan's ring into his belt as he walked out of the throne room and towards his hidden lair. It was times such as this that the little games he played with sultan seemed far too easy.
"That plan was ridiculous," Candice laughed, her feathers puffing and pluming with glee. "There is no way you're going to convince that stuffy old council, let alone the people, to approve of the crown prince being married to a man."
He snorted, rolling his eyes at the bird's statement. "Never mind the council, there's no way that dear Prince Mohinder would approve of the suggestion."
"The brat," Candice snorted, but Thompson stayed silent.
To a degree, he did feel some pity for the prince. The boy's troubles had started around the same time as Thompson's. After the unfortunate death of the young Princess Shanti, the sultan became so wrapped up in his own pain that he was barely aware of what was going on around him. Most of his days were spent locked away in his study or his personal library, reading books and researching subjects that did not pertain to his kingdom and leaving many of his important decisions to his councilors.
Taxes sky rocketed, crime boomed, and the standard of living plummeted. The sultan soon became so distracted that even his own wife's death went virtually unnoticed. It was around that time that Mohinder stopped reaching out to his father, closing himself off from everyone and learning to lean only on himself.
Of course, Thompson's sympathies ended there as Mohinder was really nothing more than a thorn in his side. When Chandra's mind began to drift away, it was then that Thompson felt certain that he was better equipped to rule Agrabah and should replace the man as sultan. He plotted and schemed in the darkness of his hidden chamber, with Candice as his only alley, working for years to figure out just how to go about usurping the thrown. No one suspected anything.
No one except Mohinder. The boy had never openly called him out on it, but Thompson knew just from looking into those dark brown eyes that the child knew the royal vizier was planning something. It was fortunate that even without the use of his magic Chandra still held Thompson's opinion in higher regard than his own son's, something that surely got under the boy's skin.
"Don't worry Candice," the man smirked. "Soon, I will be sultan and the bratty prince and his father will be out on the street."
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The only benefit that could be said about being locked away inside the palace for so long was that it gave him the opportunity to study every aspect of palace life. The day light hours were the busiest, filled with servants scurrying about, making sure that everything was clean, organized, and prepared well before an expectant royal would ever need it. It was the time when the people within the walls of the palace were watched the closest by the guards, a terrible time to make an unexpected move.
Many would think that the night was best time to move, but they would be only half right. At night, there were different levels of activity. The guards wandered through the halls at all times, but in the early hours of the evening and the very beginning of the morning the servants worked while the royals and council members slumbered. It was the between times, from midnight to four in the morn, that things were at their calmest. By midnight the night servants had all gone off to bed and the morning shift would not have to check in for several hours. The guards changed shifts at approximately two, but by one they were all drained, aloof, and not nearly as alert.
It was at exactly one in the morning that Mohinder decided to sneak out. He had been preparing for this day for years. Memorizing every step the palace guards took, which spots were the darkest, and just how quickly he could move without making a sound.
He stood in the darkness of the courtyard, the cold air biting into his skin as he pressed himself flat against the base of a large tree. The prince had never really wanted to leave. Running away was something he had often fantasized about as a child, planned for several years, but he had never taken those thoughts seriously. Yet his father had forced his hand. It was only after today that Mohinder finally realized that this was the only way, the only possible way for him to be free, to have a life, because his father was fixed on getting him married at all costs.
The day he had turned seventeen was the day the sultan had realized that time was running out, and suddenly every available princess was being thrust into his arms. He didn't want any of them. They were all nice in their own way, but there was nothing to them. They were dull, empty headed girls, with no opinions of their own and the idea of spending the rest of his life with someone he couldn't even have a decent conversation with, who didn't understand that there was more to life than sitting on a throne and telling people what to do frightened him.
That evening, when he was sitting alone in his room, Mohinder came to the startling realization that in all the years of his young life, his father had never been quite so involved with him until this marriage business had come about. The thought made him feel sad, lonely, yet not at all surprised.
Glancing just around the corner, he watched as one of the guards disappeared into the palace. The prince knew then that he had to move quickly. He pushed himself away from the tree sprinting towards the wall that separated the palace from the rest of Agrabah. His freedom, his new life, was waiting for him just over that wall.
His hands were trembling as he gripped the low hanging branch of the tree he had climbed so many times in the past. As a child, he had been content to merely climb to the tallest branch and stare out over the other side of the wall at the world just beyond his. It wasn't enough anymore.
The prince had barely gotten his foot off the ground, when he felt something stop him. He frowned, turning to see that the rags he had slipped into were now being held gingerly between Nirand's massive teeth. Mohinder felt his heart clench at the sight of the Bengal tiger's wide brown eyes staring up at him, begging him not to leave.
"I'm sorry, Nirand," he whispered, pushing away from the tree in order to gently pull the cloth out of the jungle cat's mouth, "but I can't stay here and have my life lived for me." He really was sorry. Nirand was a dear friend, his only friend, but if he was to have a real life he couldn't possibly cling to a tiger as his only companion. His eyes stung with tears as he wrapped his arms around the tiger's neck, burying his face into the soft orange and black fur. Nirand's paw fell onto his lap, and for a moment, Mohinder felt certain that he would cry. "I'll miss you."
He reluctantly pulled away, tears blurring his vision and a lump welling in his throat as he turned back towards the tree. This time, Nirand did not stop him. Instead, he felt the tiger give him a slight, reluctant boost as he climbed the first few branches. In no time at all he was leaping from the tree and over the edge of the wall.
His new life had started.
Chapter 2 - The Marketplace