Young Princess Jasmine was far too smart for her own good. Somehow, she was already attending political meetings. The princess was well informed and when someone chose to humor her, they found her opinions more well thought out than most of the actual officials.
However, that intelligence did not seem to do the princess many favors. People often complained of her pert manner behind her back. And it was a court joke that as politically active as Princess Jasmine was, the foreign policy grand vizier who was the late sultana's subordinate still refused to let the little princess into the all-female department.
In short, the princess was something of a court oddity.
I watched the court intrigue for a few days before I earnestly jumped in. I had not been the perfect son of Mujulaain for nothing. I tried to see everything as I casually charmed the court. The sultan was easy and his noblemen were not much harder to please.
The grand viziers, however, were not impressed by me. Jafar and Rikisha were the grand viziers of domestic and foreign policy respectively. Rikisha antagonized me from day one. It was obvious that she had one ambition: to marry the sultan. Every night at court, she was busy trying to seduce the poor man.
Jafar was less hostile but by no means friendly. After one, uncomfortable one-on-one conversation about loyalty where he and his red parrot looked down on me, he left me alone. Still, during public events, both viziers made polite conversation with me as diplomats do.
While I endeavored to integrate myself into the court, I could tell Princess Jasmine was watching me. She wasn't exactly subtle about it. Our eyes kept meeting during court proceedings and evening entertainments.
She'd raise an eyebrow at me in challenge. I'd simply smile. I refused to move until the time was right.
Finally, I felt ready to try and engage the princess. During an evening festival, I approached her. "Good evening princess,"
Princess Jasmine looked up at me. "Is it?" she said. "I much rather be elsewhere."
"Where would you like to be?"
She sniffed. She was obviously unimpressed by my conversation.
I ventured a well-informed guess. "Perhaps in the gardens, your mother's study, or maybe... outside the gates?"
She looked up at me then. "You've been spying on me."
"And you've been spying on me." I pointed out.
She pouted. "It's not fair you know. I didn't ask to be an ignorant child. I cannot wait until I'm old enough to gain the experience people keep lording over me. Someday, I will be sultana and I will be able to do whatever I please."
She glared at me as if expecting me to argue with her. "Well?" she shot at me. "Don't patronize me. I know you're just like the rest. You don't approve of my dream either."
She had me. There was no way I could approve of that. I stood there in silence unsure of what to say without lying to her.
The princess smiled triumphantly. She thought she had won, but I wasn't done yet.
At last, I replied, "Not even, my father, the king, can do whatever he wants. Freedom like that takes more than age, knowledge, or power. There are restrictions on everyone."
She frowned at me but seemed to process my words. Finally, she said, "That may be true. But little princesses have more restrictions than most."
I shook my head and then I gestured to one of the serving girls who was pouring a drink for a patron. "Do you think she likes that job?" I asked.
Princess Jasmine frowned at the girl. "I suppose so," the princess said.
"Look again."
The servant had a pinched expression. The man she was serving was being loud and obnoxious as he talked to her.
"I guess not," Princess Jasmine admitted.
"She has to do that job to eat and live," I said, "I'm sure she'd love to have the level of freedom you do, to wander the palace, learn about Agrabah, and eat whatever you like."
"Perhaps," the princess said begrudgingly, "but at least she's not alone. See." The princess pointed at another serving woman who was moving to relieve the girl we had been watching. The first girl smiled and gratefully returned to the kitchen.
"Plus," she added, "that girl doesn't have a whole city-state watching her every action, and depending on her to grow quickly."
The young princess's eyes grew sad. It was a look I knew well. It was the look of a weary monarch. Princess Jasmine was so young to look like that. Yet I understood. Her father was incompetent. The court was shallow and the grand viziers were power-hungry and untrustworthy.
And more than anything there was the death of the sultana. The loss of the princess's mother was felt throughout the kingdom. I didn't go a day without hearing some reference to the late sultana. The little princess was working hard to fill the hole left by her mother, but it wasn't enough.
I put a hand on her shoulder and said, "You don't have to be alone."
She looked up at me. Her eyes were wide. In that moment, I saw a vulnerable little girl who needed a friend.
"I promise," I told her, "I'll help you. Together, we'll be able to bear the responsibility and scrutiny of this kingdom. And maybe we'll find a little more freedom that way as well."
Princess Jasmine gave me a small half-smile. "You know," she said, "For an adult, you're not so bad, Prince Dhiren."
"For a little girl, you're not so bad yourself," I said smiling back.
We stood there together in silence as we watched the festivities. For the first time, I too was feeling better. I may have lost the crown to my brother, but I had a new calling. This girl and her kingdom, they needed me and that might be enough.