Jafar seized every opportunity; Jafar gets close to Sultan's wife in more ways than one.
———————
Third pov
"You speak wisely for someone with so little," the Sultan said warmly.
Jafar bowed low. "Wisdom costs nothing, Your Majesty. Only pride does."
That line stayed with the Sultan—and with the Sultan's wife.
The Sultan's Wife: A World Above the Veil
When Jafar entered the palace as a scholar, then an advisor, then a vizier, he did not come as a conqueror.
He came as a servant.
The Sultan's wife noticed him because he noticed her.
"It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, queen... You look radiant."
She watched Jafar closely from that day forward. Where her husband ruled with kindness and simplicity, she sensed complexity in Jafar. Pain. Intelligence sharpened by loss. He reminded her of stories—of men like Joseph, betrayed yet gifted with insight; of Scheherazade, surviving not by force, but by wit and timing.
"You are careful with your words," she once said to him in the palace garden.
She was sharp beneath her gentleness, perceptive beneath her silence. When others spoke over her, Jafar noticed.
(Jafar pov)
Looks like right here, I am exactly where I am supposed to be.
"You don't interrupt," she said once.
"Those who speak last," I replied, "are often the ones worth hearing." She looked at me. She nodded, seemed to appreciate my honesty.
When the Sultan promoted me to royal advisor, I promised myself: Never again will I rely on another's mercy.
3 weeks later.......
*Cave of Wonders*
When I spoke of the Cave of Wonders—the same one his father once warned him about—Gazeem laughed.
"Gold is gold," Gazeem said. "What's the danger?"
Jafar hesitated.
Third pov
Jafar became her interpreter of the world beyond the veil. Her maitre d' of reality—presenting options, framing choices, curating truth.
Life is your restaurant, his actions said.
And I decide what is served.
By the time affection bloomed, influence had already taken root.
She leaned into his touch anyway, moving closer yet keeps her head up.
Biblical Echoes and Broken Patterns
Like Jacob, the Sultan had married for alliance, not understanding the cost of divided devotion.
Like Leah and Rachel, the palace itself was split—between appearance and affection.
Fingers tightening in his robe, while he rest his forehead against hers. "But only for those willing to take it."
Their kiss was not rushed. It was deliberate.
Iago was perched on the edge of the window, feathers fluffed, watching Jafar pace the length of his chamber like a man trying to outwalk his conscience.
"So," Iago drawled, cocking his head, "let me get this straight. You didn't fall madly in love, you didn't hesitate, and you definitely didn't just break a very powerful woman's heart."
Jafar stopped. "I made a necessary decision."
"Oh good," Iago said. "I was worried it might've been an emotional one. That'd be very off-brand."
Jafar shot him a look. "She would have been collateral."
"Ah, yes. Collateral." Iago flapped down to the table, pecking at a stack of scrolls. "That's what you call it when you like someone but like power more."
Like Ali Baba, Jafar had learned the words that opened hidden doors.
Because he had learned the fourth lesson:
Those who wait for God to act are often ruled by those who do not.
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If you relax, it will enable me to do anything I-, you're mine
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