Tidal Waves

Prologue

"I've read a story about a young girl who had been kidnapped and taken away to live in a castle with a horrible woman casting to be her mother. How she was saved by a thief of all people. Then as she came to love the person who saved her and how she brought her back to her kingdom. They got married, and lived happily ever after. As a child, I often wondered if I would be saved by someone just like the girl, but it dawned onto me early in my teens that I do not have that privilege. I do not have the right to set foot outside, nor to see the sun, or to feel emotion. I eventually forgot about the book and scrapped it aside, along with all of the feeling of my heart as I last hoped for my savior."

Jafar's slender fingers stopped as he stared down at the paper full of ink words. He doesn't know how many times he's written the same thing on the papers. He's lost count. Pages covered the desk in a messy print as Jafar put away his ink feather pen. He stacked the papers up, not caring if they got all wet in the process since the ink hasn't dried. He set them on the side of the desk, standing up from his wooden chair. It skidded over the wooden floor underneath it. Jafar didn't exactly care too much about the consequences of making a mess here. It was his castle, after all. Well, this wasn't exactly a castle too say. It was more of a prison, meant to kept outsiders outside and Jafar inside. His room stood at the very top of the tower, where there was no way down unless he chose to possibly die from jumping or try to climb down. Either way, he was completely trapped.

Reaching up to a cabinet just a few centimeters above him, Jafar grabbed a can of sash, a common delicacy in the kingdom of Partevia. Yet, it had been a while since this food was delivered to him, and so it may not taste too good. But Jafar had to eat something. He poured the sash into a bowl and grabbed a spoon for him to scoop it up. When the mush came into contact with his mouth, it made Jafar want to vomit. It must've been expired, then... You see, not often to people come to visit Jafar. Only some guards to come to check if he's still here and if his health is at most ok, then there's maids who send food up to his room. Even so, they never do actually come up to his room. Jafar isn't even allowed to have the sun hit his skin, so the only windows in his tower are closed off apart from the one that is only for food baskets to enter. Even when it's open, the food is usually delivered when Jafar is sleeping. So he has no chance of even escaping or seeing the sun even if he wanted to.

Food is only delivered every few months, at most. The king says that he doesn't want his weapon to get fat, so he doesn't feed Jafar that often, and when he does, it's small portions. Most days Jafar goes without eating or drinking water. He's tired. Even so, he still forces a smile to his king when he comes to visit and see how his powers are progressing. He believes he may have some powers lightning since when Jafar was nine, he was struck by lightning not just once or twice, but 5 times in a row and survived. Every few months, usually the day food is delivered, the king of Partevia comes to check on Jafar. Not once has he used Jafar's name, but it's not much that the latter cares. All he wishes is that he leaves as quickly as he came. Yet, every visit becomes gradually longer.

Jafar has gotten used to this tower and not being able to eat much or see the sun, even have human contact apart from the king himself. He heard once, that the king plans to make Jafar his queen once he fulfills his duty as his weapon is upcoming wars. But just much more must he have to suffer before he is able to show he has no powers or until he shows he does have powers. He's used to living like this, like a toy, but sometimes he wishes he was outside, living in freedom.

Once he was done eating, Jafar put his empty bowl in a bucket of dirty water he uses to wash dishes. Yet, it serves no purpose if the water is not clean itself. Softly, Jafar comes into his bedroom, the only place that truly feels like home. It's where his darts are. They serve no use now that he has no need to fight. Before he was taken by the king, he learned how to fight from his family: mother, father, Vittel, Mahad. Jafar, feeling a sense of emptiness, grabs the darts and thumbs over them. They are dull after 12 years of no use. Yet, even after 12 years, Jafar is still able to fight quite well, as the king requires him to continue to practice his fighting styles everyday.