Jasmine’s bare feet scraped against the dusty cobblestones of Agrabah’s back alleys as she fled the chaos of Jafar’s coup. Her usual royal silks were gone, replaced by a ragged street girl’s outfit — a torn choli that barely contained her full breasts and a ghagra skirt hitched high on her thighs. The veil she’d used to hide her face had slipped, revealing her striking features. She was no longer the untouchable princess; she was prey.

A rough hand clamped over her mouth from behind. “Arrey, kya hai yeh?” (Hey, what’s this?) a gravelly voice growled. Three Agrabah guards, two street thieves, and a wiry street rat pinned her against a crumbling wall. Their eyes widened as they yanked her veil fully away.