Aladdin Live Action Novelization, page 10
“Am I allowed to move?” the prince asked, looking over at Raja, who immediately snarled.
“Raja, don’t eat the prince,” Jasmine said. “He needs his legs for dancing.”
The prince’s cheeks flushed and he looked down, embarrassed. “Did I go too far?”
“A little,” Jasmine said, though her tone implied it was far more than a little. She pointed back at the maps. “So…Ababwa.”
Walking over, Prince Ali looked down at the maps. He began to trace one, his finger running over the countries outlined below. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet and she could swear she saw his lips moving, as if he were mumbling to himself. Her eyebrows arched. Why was
he acting so strange? Had he lost his country? Or was she correct and there was no Ababwa after all? But then he smiled and jabbed his finger to a spot on the map. “See! There it is!”
Jasmine frowned. It was impossible. She had looked over every inch of every map. There had been no Ababwa. Leaning over, she looked at where Ali was pointing. Her eyes narrowed further. She still didn’t see anything. But then she blinked and shook her head as, suddenly, under his finger, a country seemed to appear. And in the middle, in ink faded with time, was the name ABABWA. “How did I not see that?” she said finally.
Prince Ali shrugged. “Maps are old and useless, with no practical value.”
“Maps are the way I see the world,” Jasmine replied, more bitterly than she would have liked.
“Really?” Ali said. “I’d think a princess would go everywhere.” He sounded like he was sincerely trying to make amends for putting his foot in his mouth, and Jasmine felt her anger begin to soften.
Sighing, she walked away from the maps and back onto the balcony. “Not this princess,” she said softly.
Hearing his footsteps behind her, Jasmine turned and saw the prince lean against one of the short pillars that served as decorations for her chamber. On top of it was a bowl of pomegranates. As Ali’s weight pressed fully upon the pillar, it began to wobble. The bowl, unsettled by the motion, began to fall, and just before the pomegranates hit the floor, Ali reached out and caught three of them. The fourth landed on the ground and rolled toward Jasmine’s feet.
“Oops,” the prince said. Reaching down, he grabbed it and threw it, along with the fruit he had successfully caught, back into the bowl. As he did so, Raja walked over and licked his face. The prince looked as surprised as Jasmine felt. But then he smiled and gave the big tiger a pat. “Thanks for that, I needed a face wash.”
As Jasmine watched her large and protective tiger rub up against the prince like he recognized an old friend, she couldn’t help smiling. The initial melting continued, and she felt a strange surge of compassion for the prince, even a bit of affection. Her tiger had never approved of any of her suitors. Frankly, he had taken years to even warm up to Dalia. Yet there he was, acting like a lap cat with this stranger. She didn’t understand, but she didn’t hate it, either. In fact, Jasmine found it endearing. There was something rather charming about this prince. And while he apparently was a prince from an actual country, there was something refreshingly unprincely about him.
Sensing her eyes on him, the prince looked over. “Um, I was saying,” Ali went on, looking up from the tiger, “we should go see these places. There’s a whole world outside of books. Do you want to?”
“How?” Jasmine asked. “Every door is guarded.”
The prince smiled, his eyes lighting up. “Who said anything about a door?”
Jasmine watched as, keeping his gaze on her, he began to back toward the edge of the balcony. She opened her mouth to warn him, but to her surprise, the prince jumped up onto the balcony railing. He gave her a huge smile.
And then, he jumped.
Aladdin heard Jasmine’s gasp. He felt the wind in his hair and on his cheeks. He felt warm air beneath him. For one long moment, he simply fell.
Until, with a whoosh, the carpet flew up from beneath him and caught him. Aladdin’s feet settled onto the rug, the pace of his plummet slowing and then reversing as the carpet lifted him back up to the balcony. He put his hands on his hips and stood still as the carpet continued to float up, until he was standing face-to-face with the princess.
Her eyes were wide and her hand was at her heart. Aladdin allowed himself a moment of hope that perhaps she had been worried about him, but then she pointed to the carpet. “What is that?” she asked breathlessly.
“Magic carpet,” Aladdin said, as though a flying carpet were something one saw every day.
In the moonlight, with curiosity in her eyes and her cheeks flushed with excitement, Jasmine was more beautiful than ever. In that moment, Aladdin wanted nothing more than to tell her who he was, admit what he had done, and hope she would see that he had done it out of, dare he say…love. But he knew it was too soon. He didn’t need the Genie to tell him that. So instead, he held out his hand. “Do you trust me?” he asked. As the words left his mouth, Aladdin nearly groaned. That was exactly what he had said to her back in the market.
“What did you say?” Jasmine asked. Her eyes met his, and she looked searchingly at him. Her hand began to lift toward his face, her fingers reaching…
Not giving the princess a chance to put two and two together, Aladdin closed his hand around hers and pulled her onto the carpet with him. Together, they sat down, the air between them charged with unspoken emotion as the carpet began to fly them away from the palace and out over Agrabah. The city soon grew smaller, becoming a collage of shining, shimmering buildings. Over clouds and then beside them, the carpet glided. Sitting there, next to a breathless Jasmine, Aladdin felt a freedom greater than any he had known. He couldn’t imagine what Jasmine was thinking. Her life, she had told him, was dictated by her father and his rules. He wondered when the last time was that she had done something just because she dreamed of doing it.
Opening his mouth to ask her, he stopped as he caught sight of the wonder written all over her face. Clearly, she was feeling the same way he was—as though she were seeing the world for the first time. Dragging his attention from her beauty, Aladdin watched as the clouds raced by, imagining them as mythical beasts or boats sailing over the seas. The carpet dipped back down toward the ground, and Aladdin saw that they were now out over the wide-open desert. Riding aboard a magic carpet with the stars above them, they saw the desert become a place of beauty and abundance, not the dry and dull landscape it appeared to be during the day. Grabbing Jasmine’s hand, he pointed to a herd of wild horses racing across the dunes. A smile lit up her face as she saw one of the younger foals throw back its head and let out a surprised whinny at the carpet.
As they dropped down closer still, Jasmine’s eyes snapped shut. Reaching over, Aladdin put a finger below her chin and lifted her face to his. “Open your eyes; don’t miss it,” he whispered. She nodded as she slowly, and somewhat reluctantly, moved her face from Aladdin’s touch. Together, they turned their attention back to the magical ride. They left the desert and flew over snowcapped mountains, then down into lush jungles. Over wide seas where dolphins played and then back up into the clouds to chase a flock of birds. For hours they flew, until finally, the unfamiliar and thrilling worlds they had seen disappeared, replaced with the more familiar desert and then, at last, the outline of Agrabah. Cresting over one of the far walls, they flew over a wedding, dozens of burning candles and lanterns causing the whole place to glow.
“Of all the places you’ve shown me,” Jasmine said, indicating the Agrabah skyline, “this is by far the most beautiful.”
Aladdin nodded. “Sometimes you just have to see it from a different perspective,” he said. He looked down and watched as the bride and groom danced beneath the candlelight, lost in each other’s eyes.
Following his gaze, Jasmine smiled. “It’s them, the people,” she offered. “They make it beautiful. And they deserve a leader who knows that. I don’t know why I believe it could be me, but I do.”
“Because it should be you.” Aladdin was surprised by the boldness of his response. It had been that way since he’d first met Jasmine—he felt a sort of comfort and ease, as if they had known each other for a long time. He had spent so many years alone, with only Abu for company, that he had forgotten what it was like to see someone and, in turn, be truly seen by them. And he saw Jasmine. He knew how she felt. How trapped by her circumstances she must be. “You have the strength, the mind, and the courage.”
Jasmine let out a sigh. “You think so?”
“Does it matter what I think?” He stopped and smiled at her, realizing the mood had shifted.
To his surprise, Jasmine didn’t answer right away. Instead, she grew silent. Her eyes narrowed. She leaned in closer. For one heart-pounding moment, Aladdin thought maybe she was going to kiss him. But then she snapped back and looked down at the market below. “Look at that cute little monkey down there. Is that Abu?”
Without thinking, Aladdin shook his head. “No, it couldn’t be Abu. He’s still—” Aladdin’s mouth snapped shut.
But it was too late. Jasmine had caught him.
“I knew it was you!” she cried.
Jasmine clapped her hands together, pleased to have discovered the truth. She had suspected something was off from the first moment she met Prince Ali. And then when he had been so strange on the dance floor. And the familiar expression he had used on the balcony. All the pieces had been there, she just hadn’t put them together. Until now.
“Who is Prince Ali?” she asked, eager for answers now that she was out of the dark.
“I am,” the young man said quickly. “I…like to…go among the people. So I can…know those I wish to govern.”
Jasmine wasn’t buying it. She had followed him through the city, watched as he navigated the streets and rooftops like he had done it dozens of times before. He had been as familiar with the market as she was with her chambers, had known the people like she knew Dalia. Her eyes narrowed. “How could you know the city so well?”
She waited and watched the prince’s face, looking for any sign that he was lying to her. But his expression remained unreadable. “I came to Agrabah early,” he answered. “If you want to know a people, you have to see them for yourself.” He stopped, and his eyes warmed. “But you know this. When I met you, you were disguised in your own city.”
Her cheeks flushed. He did have a point. But that had been a onetime attempt. From the sound of it, Prince Ali did this often.
“But…how did I not recognize you?” Her eyes traveled up the length of his white pants and vest, the cloth rich and without a speck of dirt on it. His thick hair gleamed in the moonlight, and on his wrists, gold bands sparkled. When she had met him as Aladdin, he had been covered in the dust of the streets, his hair a mess and his only accessory a worn brown bag. He had looked like every other street rat she had wandered by in the market.
Ali had another answer at the ready. “People don’t see the real you when you are royalty.”
Jasmine slowly nodded. Everything he said made sense. Everything he said made him seem like the type of prince she would want to marry—if she ever agreed to marry anybody, that is. He was a man who cared about his people. The type of guy who wanted to know what it was like on the streets, not just sit in his palace and let others dictate the lives of those he ruled. She began to shake her head, embarrassed. She had been wrong to not trust him. “You saw more of Agrabah in days than I have in a lifetime,” she finally said, allowing her voice to completely soften and her stiff shoulders to loosen.
Jasmine lowered her eyes. She didn’t want him to see how she didn’t want the night to end. He had, she thought, shown her more than she could have imagined. He had made her realize that she could feel something, that there could be a way to marry a prince and not be miserable. Feeling his gaze on her, Jasmine looked up at the prince. For a long moment, they both just stood there, unsure of what was happening between them.
“We should probably get back,” the prince finally said, breaking the moment. “It’s nearly morning.”
“Already?” Jasmine replied softly.
Nodding, Aladdin pointed to the horizon. The sun was just beginning to peek over, illuminating the palace. Jasmine knew he was right. She had to get back to her chambers before her father, or worse the vizier, awoke. The prince, reading her face, quickly gave the carpet a quick pat. The carpet, who had been hovering above the city, slowly began to make its way back to the balcony of Jasmine’s chambers. Once they arrived, it softly set her down, and the prince stood up on it, perfectly balanced.
“See you later, Princess?” he asked hopefully.
Jasmine nodded and smiled. She waved goodbye as the carpet began to sink beneath the railing. Unable to help herself, and hopeful that perhaps the prince was still looking up, she ran to the edge and peered over. Suddenly, the carpet floated back up. Before she knew what was happening, she felt the prince’s lips on hers. A gasp of surprise caught in her throat as she let herself melt into Prince Ali.
And then, just like that, the carpet floated away, breaking them apart.
Jasmine watched him go, a finger on her lips. That had been, she thought, as the carpet and the prince disappeared from view, the perfect night—and the perfect kiss.
It had been, hands down, the best night of his life. Aladdin could still feel Jasmine’s lips on his, could still smell the lavender in her hair and feel her hand next to his as they flew over cities and oceans. He was pretty sure that in the history of evenings, they had just had the best one ever.
He just wished it never had to end.
As the carpet flew to the window of the guest tower and deposited Aladdin in the middle of the large chamber, Aladdin hummed under his breath. He swooned around the room, unaware that the carpet, Abu, and Genie were all watching him, amused.
“Good date?” the Genie asked.
“The best,” Aladdin said. Suddenly, he frowned, and his eyes narrowed as he looked over at the Genie. “But she figured out I was Aladdin! You said that wouldn’t happen!”
Genie shrugged. “Genie magic is just a facade,” he said nonchalantly. “At some point, real character’s always going to shine through. That’s a good thing. Now she knows.”
“Eventually I’ll tell her the truth,” Aladdin replied vaguely. “Anyway, I sort of am a prince now…”
“You’re going to drink from that cup?” the Genie asked, eyebrow raised and disappointment on his face.
Aladdin shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He still felt bad about lying to Jasmine. But when she had found him out, he’d panicked. He had just stuck with the story because it seemed easier than trying to explain everything about the lamp, and Genie, and wishes. He hadn’t wanted to dig himself a deeper hole, but he hadn’t seen another way out.
Feeling the Genie’s eyes on him, Aladdin shrugged. He had beat himself up enough about not being entirely truthful. He didn’t need to stick around the room and have the Genie and Abu, and even the carpet, do the same. Waving a hand in the air, he made his way to leave. Though it was clear from Abu’s chittering that he agreed with the Genie’s sentiments, he was still a loyal friend, and he hopped on Aladdin’s shoulder before the door could close. Together, the two of them began to walk aimlessly down the palace’s corridors, taking a left here, a right there. Neither had any sense of where they were, but Aladdin didn’t care. His head was back in the clouds, his heart and soul on the carpet with Jasmine as they explored a whole new world together.
Coming to the end of one particularly long corridor, Aladdin was pleased to find himself looking out into the courtyard. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would catch a glimpse of Jasmine. His pace quickened at the thought and he burst into the open courtyard, the wind warm on his cheeks, the air fragrant. He began to hum a tune, enjoying the peaceful beauty, his fingers trailing along the exotic plants.
And then, he heard the sound of heavy footsteps. Lots of heavy footsteps.
Looking up, Aladdin saw a group of Jafar’s guards approaching him. He stopped, the dreadfully familiar shadows blocking his light. “Not again,” he muttered under his breath. He gave a quick nod to Abu, and the monkey jumped down and quickly hid himself from view. When he was sure his friend was safe, Aladdin turned and waited for the guards to approach. From their grim demeanor, he was certain they weren’t just coming to say hello.
He was right. Grabbing him roughly by the arms, one of the men threw a bag over his head. Then, before he could mutter a protest, he felt his legs go out from underneath him as he was unceremoniously dragged away. He desperately tried to keep track of the turns they made and the number of stairs he was brought up and down and then up again. But after a while, he lost count. By the time he heard a door creak open, his head was hanging low, his arms numb and his legs bruised.
A moment later, he was shoved into a chair and wrapped in what felt like very large, very painful chains. Then the bag was ripped off his head.
Standing in front of him, his arms crossed and his pesky parrot on his shoulder, was Jafar. And he did not look happy. He stepped forward, the guards moving away to give him a clearer path to Aladdin.
“Hey, hold on,” Aladdin said, shifting uncomfortably on the chair. “I think you’re confused…I don’t think you know who I am.”
“Oh, shut up,” Jafar snapped. “I know who you are…Aladdin.”
Aladdin gulped. The man was nothing if not perceptive. But he couldn’t just give in. “Aladdin?” he said, shaking his head and trying to look perplexed. “No, I’m Prince Ali of Ababwa.”
