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Sultan, sorceror... and what can there be left to desire? Jasmine struggles in chains at his feet and her father dances or at least capers for food. He is surrounded by gold and silk and jewels and Agrabah is forced to worship him, and the street rat is safe in his cell in the dungeons.
But somehow there is no fun in it all. Everything is too easy, too boring, and eventually and playfully he 'accidentally' allows the street rat to escape, and watches from afar with magic, and laughs.
Because it is then that he rubs the lamp one last time, and the Genie emerges, with sorrow written in his eyes.
"Yes, Master?" he says, barely whispers, because Jafar has discovered that even if he cannot harm the Genie, it is easy to find people whom the Genie wishes to protect with obedience.
And Jafar smirks. "Genie, it is time for my third wish." Desperation flickers in the magical being's eyes. "I wish for the street rat Aladdin to slowly starve on the streets, to sleep rough and be without help, to never -- know happiness -- again."
Genie pauses, and trembles, then closes his eyes as the sky darkens and lightning strikes over Agrabah. And Jafar laughs, and dispels the Genie, planning to lock away the lamp so that it can never again be used, and waiting for his final wish to thread itself out.
He could, of course, have watched from afar. But it is so much more fun to ride down into the city, to watch people bow and children run from the street, to stop a few metres away from the blanket-shrouded figure huddled against the end of the alley. The guards will stop anyone from watching.
The figure does not move as Jafar approaches, stands before him, uses the end of his staff to move away the hood. Jafar cannot help but smile as he sees the boy beneath, his once-handsome face now becoming more gaunt with hunger, the way that the scar across his forehead cuts down over one eyebrow, the milky glaze in the same eye from the blindness that has followed the knife. Sometimes being caught by the guards was not so bad as being caught by the holders of the stalls themselves.
But there is fire in Aladdin's glare still, and it makes the taste of his pain so much sweeter.
"Come to take me back, Jafar?" he asks, even sneers. Desertion and poor luck have taken their toll on the boy, it seems, made him hungrier and angrier in unison.
Jafar considers it briefly. Return the boy to the cells awhile, let he and the Princess meet again and watch them both recoil in horror from what the other has become. But no, he decides, he has savoured his plan too long. "No, I think not. It's far more interesting to see you here."
Another flick of the staff, this time throwing the blanket off Aladdin's shoulder. His collarbone stands sharp on his skin, pale with ill health. He tries quickly to slide his right arm out of sight, but Jafar does not need to look at the scar that covers the stump of his forearm. He watched that from his tower with unmitigated glee, the vengeance of the guards upon a thief caught too many times and this time unable to get away.
"Back to your roots. Ah, what a thing."
Anger flashes in Aladdin's eyes, and he lunges to his feet, hand flying towards Jafar's throat, snarling, "You--". Jafar gives a throaty bark of laughter as he brings the staff up in return, cracking into the side of the boy's head, then spins it horizontal to pin Aladdin back against the wall. It comes to rest against the boy's throat, and he writhes as Jafar leans pressure upon it.
"Do not even think you could take me, boy. You could not manage before; what are you now that you could fight me?"
Aladdin tries to push the staff away, movements becoming weaker each time, then stops, panting for breath as Jafar keeps pressure on him. Then he draws away, so quickly that Aladdin falls to his knees on the ground, groaning as he hits the dust.
There is a moment's silence.
"Then go," Aladdin says finally. "I'm sure you'll have your fun."
"Why, what makes you think I don't have plans?" Jafar scatters a few gold coins around Aladdin's feet. The boy looks down at them, in astonishment and mistrust, then scrabbles to pick them out of the dirt.
It takes a moment or two before he becomes aware of the low, hissing laughter emanating from Jafar's throat, and slowly, fearfully, he turns his gaze upwards into the shadow that looms over him. "Once a thief, always a thief. And more than that... a traitor to the Sultan.
"Guards!"
Aladdin's eyes widen as some sense tells him what is coming next. The guards turn, and two of them start down the street towards the Sultan and the frozen street rat at his feet.
"Take this traitor to the centre of the market." For one last time, Jafar meets Aladdin's eyes, and wild, mad glee is written across them. "There is a stoning to be done."