Escorting the princess

The walk up the winding stone ramp to the Palace was steep. The sun beat down on us, but Jasmine didn't slow her pace. She marched with the angry, stomping gait of a woman who was used to getting her way, even when she was being escorted against her will.

I walked a step behind her, watching the sway of her hips beneath the baggy teal trousers. The disguise of a street rat couldn't hide the royal posture.

"You're making a mistake," she grumbled, not looking back. "My father will just lock me up again. He'll **** me to marry that pompous Prince Achmed."

"Princes come and go," I said, scanning the rooftops. "But if you don't secure your city, there won't be a throne left to sit on."

"What do you mean?" She stopped, turning to face me. "You talk in riddles. What are those shadow creatures?"

"Heartless," I explained. "They are drawn to darkness. To greed. To despair. And right now, Agrabah smells like a buffet."

As if on cue, the ground beneath us rumbled. We were fifty yards from the main palace gate. The cobblestones exploded. Three massive, round demons—Large Bodies—burst from the ground. Their bellies were huge and jiggling, their faces hidden by small, comical masks. They were flanked by a dozen Pot Spiders, scurrying out of shattered clay jars that lined the road.

Jasmine gasped, backing up until she hit my chest. "They're huge!"

"Stay behind me," I ordered. "And don't interrupt."

I didn't draw the Keyblade immediately. I wanted to see what the Palace defenses were worth. Two palace guards standing at the gate shouted in alarm. They charged down the ramp, scimitars raised. "Halt, monsters!" one yelled.

The lead Large Body simply bounced. It slammed its belly into the guards. They flew backward like ragdolls, their swords clattering uselessly against the Heartless's rubbery skin.

"Useless," I muttered.

I stepped forward. "Gravity."

I raised my hand. A sphere of crushing black energy materialized over the Large Bodies. CRUNCH. The spell slammed them into the pavement, flattening them into pancakes of darkness before they dissolved.

The Pot Spiders screeched and lunged at me. I summoned The Solar Zenith. I became a blur of steel and magic. I didn't just slash; I danced. I spun through the cluster of spiders, the Keyblade weaving a net of light. Every strike was a kill.

In ten seconds, the road was clear.

I stood amidst the fading smoke, flicking a speck of dust from my black vest. Jasmine was staring at me, her mouth slightly open. She looked from the **** guards to the spot where the monsters had been.

"You... you defeated them without breaking a sweat," she whispered. "Who are you?"

"I told you," I said, walking toward the gate. "I'm the cleaner."

Before we could enter, the massive golden doors creaked open. A tall, thin man swept out. He wore black and red robes, a tall turban, and carried a golden snake staff. A parrot sat on his shoulder.

Jafar.

His eyes were narrow, lined with kohl, and sharp as daggers. He looked at the **** guards, then at Jasmine, and finally, his gaze settled on me with cold calculation.

"Princess Jasmine!" Jafar crooned, his voice oily and insincere. "We have been searching everywhere for you! The Sultan is beside himself with worry."

He reached out a bony hand to grab her arm. Jasmine flinched, pulling away. "Get off me, Jafar. I can walk."

Jafar’s smile didn't waver, but his eyes hardened. He turned his attention to me. "And who might this be? A street performer? A mercenary?"

"He saved me," Jasmine interjected quickly, stepping to my side. "Those... things. They attacked the guards. He destroyed them with magic."

"Magic?" Jafar’s eyebrows shot up. He gripped his snake staff tighter. "Sorcery is a crime in Agrabah unless sanctioned by the Vizier. You are treading on dangerous sand, stranger."

I stepped up to Jafar. I was taller than him, broader. I let my aura flair—just a fraction. A heavy, suffocating pressure that made the parrot squawk and fly off his shoulder.

"Your guards are incompetent, Vizier," I said calmly. "The city is infested. If I hadn't been here, your Princess would be dead."

Jafar recoiled slightly, sensing the raw power radiating from me. He was a sorcerer, yes, but he was a dabbler compared to a Keyblade Master. He recognized a predator.

"I see," Jafar murmured, regaining his composure. "Then we owe you a debt of gratitude. But the Palace is secure. We have no need for... freelancers."

"The Palace is a birdcage," I countered, looking up at the high walls. "And the cats are circling."

I looked at Jasmine. "I returned her, as promised."

Jasmine looked at me. For the first time, she didn't want to run away. She realized that I was the only thing in this city that Jafar seemed genuinely wary of.

"He stays," Jasmine declared suddenly.

Jafar choked. "Excuse me, Princess?"

"He stays," Jasmine repeated, crossing her arms. "He saved my life. By the law of the Sultan, he is entitled to a reward. And I want him to be my personal bodyguard."

I raised an eyebrow. The little Princess was playing politics. She wanted a shield against Jafar.

Jafar’s face twisted in a rictus of suppressed rage. "Princess, surely the Royal Guards are sufficient—"

"The Royal Guards are currently **** in a heap," Jasmine pointed out, gesturing to the groaning men on the ramp. "Father will agree with me."

She turned to me, her eyes flashing with a challenge. "Come with me, Ray. Let's introduce you to the Sultan."

I smirked at Jafar. "After you, Highness."

I walked past the Grand Vizier. As I passed him, I leaned in close. "Keep your snake on a leash, Jafar. Or I'll tie it in a knot."

Jafar watched us enter the palace, his knuckles white on his staff. I had gained entry. The board was set. And the Princess had just invited the wolf into the fold to protect her from the snake.