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BURHAN ABELHAMID BROKE HIS GAZE away from hers then, turning his head away as he made his way towards the wooden box beside the head of his bed, his head dipping as he shuffled through the mess of the whitling materials Dilruba had discovered on the makeshift side table before.

His jaw was tight as he looked for something, the stone of objects clinking together until he found what he was looking for, his silver carved ring. He picked it up and slid it back onto the pointer finger of his right hand, and she could not think why he had taken it off and left it beside the bed where she was lying, in the first place. The way he had went back for it suggested that it had not been easy to leave the ring behind on.. purpose? Dilruba wondered if he had done it for her, if the simple act of leaving his ring behind was to assure her that she had been brought to a place where she was safe and he was there.

He lifted his eyes to look at her watching him, clearing his throat as he forced a detached stoicity into his irises and his manner—a stoicity that seemed to be masterful at drowning Dilruba's insides in gripping despair. She had to hold onto herself to not feel the full force of the heartache. Allah, how had it all come to this? From her just handing her heart to him and him only wanting it conditionally without giving the same in return?

"I will leave so that you can change," He stated, his voice hard and unsure, as though he was trying to look past and away from everything that had just happened between them—every word they had exchanged and every kiss they had shared.

"Ghazi and Yunis must be done making dinner by now," Burhan added, glancing towards the edge where the staircase started downwards.

"I will bring food for you up. The tahararat min alkhatiya says you need your strength, farashat rayiea."

His dark orbs were intense in hers, but there was a wall in front of his gaze now—a guard that masked all that his eyes had earlier showed her away, as though those feelings never did deserve to be at the forefront at all.

Dilruba felt hurt escalate inside her, taking hold of her resolve. But then again, hadn't she been the one to say that she could not love a man like him? Had not she just told him she would not stay? Why then was she feeling twice the hurt? Allah, why was she hurting for the both of them when he had made it clear he would never let her in?

"No," She spoke then, fighting to keep her voice steady.

"This is your room, please stay."

He blinked, confused eyes looking at her and trying to decipher her.

"Please do not worry about bringing food to me," She continued, "Do not worry about serving me in any way, I already owe so much gratitude to you, munqidhi."

Burhan did not respond, his eyes fixed on her as she slowly spun away from him, her eyes fixing themselves on her reflection in the circular mirror on the wall in front of her as she unwrapped the towel she had wrapped around her body, leaving her form entirely naked.

Abelhamid watched her in a trance, as she brought the towel over to her side and leaned her head against it slightly, rubbing at the lengths of her long dark hair to dry it, her eyes fixed onto her reflection in the mirror.

He stood rooted to his spot, his fists tightening at his sides, unable to move as his eyes tried to decipher her with effort for his gaze kept being distracted by the reality of her presence.

"Dilruba," He uttered then, frustration in his voice as he damned the hurtful discomfort between them to hell.

He rounded the corner to the foot of the bed and approached her in a swift moment, grabbing hold of her elbow and yanking her to him. She gasped, and her soft elbow skin melded underneath his calloused palm like soft clay, and his knees almost buckled at the feel of it.

Her emerald irises glittered up at him, her lips set slightly apart as her eyes trailed the tension on his face with expectance laced with submission.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He breathed, dipping his head towards her as he let go of her elbow and gripped her bare waist, pulling her flush against his chest.

"I'm changing," She spoke softly, biting her bottom lip to keep herself from faltering at the feel of him against her.

His body—his chest—felt like a brick building all in itself. His muscles were hard and unrelenting, and all she wanted to do was to melt into his hold like she was the desert sand.

"With me in here?" He growled with what sounded like irritation in his voice before he brushed his lips against her jaw, kissing her throat as she let out a soft moan, reaching her arms to wrap them around his neck.

"This is your room," She uttered in a daze, her eyes half closed. "I cannot ask you to leave your own room."

Burhan scoffed with frustration then, his dark eyes fixing themselves in hers with anger.

"It seems you can only ask me what I refuse to give," He breathed, "Everything else I'll fucking lay down for you but that shit does not matter to you, does it?"

Dilruba exhaled a breath, closing her eyes as she pressed her forehead against his cheekbone, feeling his sun weathered facial skin as her muscles felt weak with her need of him. Where had her defiance gone? She had claimed she would never love a man who would not give himself entirely to her, a man who would always keep her at a distance. So then, why was she so weak with her need for him now, when Burhan Abelhamid fit exactly the kind of man she had described? Allah, how can she not hold her own against him? Why was her heart and body so at odds with her mind?

"Burhan, please," Dilruba spoke softly, her voice etched in pain. "Please don't."

He tensed, his muscles hardening and tightening underneath her touch as he exhaled, gripping at her bare waist more firmly with his arm as he dove his face into the nape of her neck and exhaled against her skin, breathing into her scent hard. His manner was apologetic, as he placed kisses on her neck, not having the resolve to actually apologize through his words, for hadn't he said that he would not hurt her with his words again?

"Can we not talk?" She held the back of his head with her hand and nudged him to face her, setting her pleading gaze in his as her fingers nestled in between the soft hair at the nape of his neck. "I just don't want—"

He swallowed thickly when she broke off, his dark irises searching hers desperately for something.

"What?" He let out, "What don't you want?"

"I don't want you to take this away from me," Dilruba Badawi uttered then, tears shining in her eyes as her voice gently cracked. "You gave me so much in these past moments and you are now taking everything away from me."

Burhan's eyebrows furrowed in confusion before he caught her jaw with his lips and kissed her skin, making her tip her head backwards with a slight moan, before meeting his eyes again.

"I cannot, Dilruba," He brushed his lips against hers with an aggression. "I don't take away what I give. I never have and I never fucking will."

"But you are!" The Hegran girl cried, tears falling down her cheeks. "You won't let me near, and I can't be held at a distance, Burhan. Especially by someone that I—"

"Someone that you.. what?" His voice was slow, as he forced her to continue, more because of his own desperation to hear her say the words than anything else.

Dilruba got on her tip toes, brushing her nose against his softly, thinking about how he had entirely changed the chemistry of her, making her melt in front of him like no man ever had.

"Someone that I love," She finished, her voice barely above a whisper.

The usurper and killer shut his eyes tight then, a muscle bulging in his tight jaw in his agony before he opened his eyes slowly to meet her melancholy ones again.

Swiftly, not wanting to let words take up the space or create any space—since that was all words between them were doing at present, Burhan Abelhamid bent slightly to snake his other arm under her knees, gathering her up as though she was a stitched doll that an old woman had created of exotic fabrics and filled to the brim with the brilliant sand of the desert, a gift for a wanting child. Except, Burhan was the wanting child and Dilruba was his salvation—his gift.

Dilruba did not protest, her heart pounding all the way to her throat as he spun her around in his hold and threw her towards the bed, pouncing swiftly over her and pinning her naked body down with the muscular weight of his form.

Moonlight shone on one side of his face as she looked at him, the other side clad in darkness as his dark irises glinted at her with fierce lust and desire.

She caressed his face, her palm rubbing gently against his cheek as her other hand placed itself on his chest.

Burhan searched with aggression for something of a permission in her eyes, for he could not bring himself to ask. What fucking words could he use? When his words alone seemed to be hurting her without him meaning for them to do so? What fucking use were words when he could not even wield them with the strength and precision he wielded his sword with?

She broke her soft gaze away from his, her eyes gently fixating themselves on his jaw briefly before they ventured on to other crevices of his face.

Burhan gripped her waist closer to his stomach, and she arched her back to allow him to do so. He took her body's responsiveness as the permission he needed, along with the contentment in her eyes with which she was carving his looks into her memory silently.

He used his other hand to undo the buttons of his black sleeves vest with aggression, yanking at the material until all the buttons gave way before he took the vest off and tossed it away, leaving himself bare chested in front of her.

Dilruba let go of his face then, slowly bringing both of her hands to his chest, her fingers delving over fragments of the dark hair that covered his hard muscled skin. He could hear her sighing softly, her full lips set apart slightly as the moonlight shone on them making them glisten.

Burhan dove his head in to capture her lips with his, taking her breath away as his instincts become ferocious in his want of her. He kissed her passionately, his tongue exploring every inch of her mouth. She tasted like cinnamon and coconut, her jojoba and vanilla scent was maddening in his senses as he held her tightly close, not being able to slow down.

Desperate to breathe, she pushed her head away and dipped it backwards into the bed, and he latched onto her neck, trailing kisses down her skin with desperation before he reached her breasts and took hold of her left one into his mouth.

Dilruba moaned, her toes curling in her pleasure as she bit her bottom lip to try and control her voice, but her control was insignificant in face of Burhan's hot tongue swiping over her breast and his lips encased around her, sucking and kisses as the restless need in the pit of her stomach thrashed for more attention and release.

The Arabian moon in the sky was privy to the sin unfolding in the room of the usurper and killer that the desert had been hiding from retribution and the law for years now, but still the gem in the sky watched, glowing some more with fascination or even love perhaps-at least that was what Dilruba Badawi wanted to believe in her heart as her body got embroiled in the heat of the most passion and love that she had ever felt in her life.

Burhan Abelhamid lavished the same attention to her other breast, before he dwelled lower on the terrains of Dilruba's body, his lips kissing her belly button before he grabbed hold of her thigh and rested it over on his sturdy shoulder.

Dilruba's mind would not work for her, it refused to warn her or prepare her for any of Burhan's attentions, and as a result, when she felt her savior's tongue on her body's most sensitive part between her legs, she could not disguise the small scream that erupted from her lips as her body jolted in shock.

Burhan's hand on her thigh at his shoulder, kept her locked in place and soon his other hand too had gotten hold of her other thigh, holding her still while he sucked and feasted on her core like a man starved.

"Burhan!" Dilruba managed his name in midst of her loud moans, her hand gripping the hair on his head tightly as she placed her other hand on her mouth, trying to silence herself somewhat for the presence of Burhan's men at the guild downstairs was a realization that had not crossed her mind until now.

Tears of pleasure trickled down from the corner of her eyes, and she felt all of her body's excitement and nerves fill into one place at the pit of her stomach, threatening to burst.

"Burhan," She cried out his name again, trying to warn him of how he had successfully made a slave of her body and she could not hold anything of her own against him anymore.

"Burhan, I'm going to—"

Burhan's hand caressed her thigh then, assuring her that he knew and had heard her, but still he did not separate from her and the sight of his head in between her thighs could almost be a hallucination or a desert mirage with how gripping it was—how otherworldly and utterly utterly fueling for the extreme passion of her heart.

Dilruba exploded then, and Burhan helped her ride her orgasm down, his lips continuing to feast on her while his tongue lapped her up, leaving no crevice of hers untouched.

She stroked his hair, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to get her breathing in order, sweat glistening on her skin.

"Burhan..," She spoke his name again, her voice heavy with her love for him as he slowly lifted his head from between her legs and climbed upwards to face her.

His eyes were dark with such intensity that Dilruba was almost scared of him and his feelings, but there was something that leaped inside her at his every look and touch. He wanted her just like she wanted him, he loved her as she loved him, it were only his reasons for not letting her in that constituted the quicksand she could see, but at least quicksand had a starting point and an ending one.

Hope screamed at her, vouching for Burhan and she could not help but hold on to it-to him.

"Dilruba," Burhan uttered then, his baritone thick as he exhaled, "Fuck, Dilruba, you taste of the forbidden fruit. I'll be fucking damned now, I'll be a godforsaken vagabond roaming the earth."

"Something so good and divine," He spoke, kissing her jaw, "Must be a damn sin to have."

She shut her eyes tightly, thinking of how she felt the same for him. How could it be that she had tumbled across such a man in the city of Agrabah, a place she would never have come had it not been for her cousin's wedding? A place she had had to make up her mind to come, a process that had taken effort and so much of her self worth? For how does one darken a doorstep that had never wanted one for years?

One decision had led her to meet Burhan, and now Dilruba felt as though she would not be able to live without him.

How quickly had she fallen in love with a killer and usurper, had not the Sultan and Jasmine been right to blame her of treason all along?

"If you get into Paradise and do not see me, farashat rayiea," Burhan Abelhamid grinned then, meet her eyes as with one hand he undid the tying of his dark billowing trousers.

"You know where to find me."

Dilruba let out a small giggle at his words, her eyes sparkling up at him with love and mirth.

"Who says I will look for you in Paradise?" She asked softly, her tone teasing.

Burhan blinked, pausing briefly as a thought crossed his mind that sucked his grin away. She saw hurt flash like a dull spark in his gaze. He looked away from her and pulled his trousers off of his lower body, and Dilruba was mesmerized by the sight of him bare and upon her, though her heart ached with the phrasing of words she had used for him.

"Right, farashat rayiea," Burhan met her eyes with a fierce determination. "Do not look for me in Paradise, you do not deserve to wait or look for any fucking one there."

Dilruba shook her head adamantly, taking hold of his face and bringing him closer to her.

"I won't enter Paradise at all if you aren't already there," She spoke, her voice barely above a whisper as her eyes stung.

She pressed her forehead against his, her eyes half closed.

"Allah will have to put you there as well if He wants me there, because I will follow you everywhere, Burhan."

Burhan grabbed her cheek, his calloused palm feeling hard against her soft skin as he forced her to meet his eyes head on. There was a surprise in his gaze, a disbelief and shock at her words, and all of it was marred with the aggression of his passion for her.

Dilruba saw him fighting with his thoughts as other emotions flashed across his irises. She could tell that he did not agree with her words. He did not want to risk her by even telling her of his motivations and intentions, so why would he want her following her anywhere at all?

She did not want him to deny her words, she did not want to be refused, so she held his face, caressing his skin as she leaned forwards to press her lips against his cheekbone, placing kisses all over his face just to dispel the thoughts in his head—just so that he would not hurt her with his words again.

Burhan gave in. He exhaled a breath and grabbed hold of her thigh adjusting himself in line with her entrance as she felt his tip brush against her.

She gasped softly at the feeling, a slow panic overtaking her nervous pleasure. What would Ahya have said about Dilruba going into her first time of intimacy with a man? Dilruba knew the first times hurt, but she had no other insight on the matter. Would Ahya have had helpful information? Would her maid have been able to prepare Dilruba in someway? A healing concoction for before and after? Some mixture of herbs applied for safety and protection?

Dilruba knew there were rituals of preparation for when a noble woman went into her first time, but despite what Burhan seemed to assume, she was not a royal woman despite her relation with the Agraban royals. Dilruba had only had Ahya for guidance, and her own knowledge, so that she could even look and carry herself as an equal to a noble woman in moments before and after her performances.

But Dilruba had no one but Burhan now, and she had nothing at present but this moment and his touch.

"Farashat rayiea," He uttered in her ear, his breath hot against her earlobe as he held the back of her waist with one hand and her thigh with her other.

"I won't do this if you do not want it," He breathed. "I need you to give me the permission."

"I want you to do this," Dilruba nodded, her voice soft and her eyes almost pleading in his. "But I want you to make me a promise first, Burhan."

His brows furrowed slightly, his gaze intense in hers, but still he nodded, encouraging her to ask.

"I want you to be my first and last," She let out then, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his chin.

She met his eyes again but saw only confusion and surprise swimming in them, his facial muscles tense.

"I promise you will be my first and last, Burhan," Dilruba caressed his jaw. "And I want you to promise the same."

The killer and swordsman swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing hard on his throat as his eyes sharpened in hers.

"You will be my last, Dilruba, there is no one on this fucking earth who will ever come close to you—"

"No," She shut her eyes briefly, slightly struck to understand by his words that she wasn't his first. But strangely, the fact did not hurt her as she thought it would.

"I want you to promise that you are my first and last, Burhan," Dilruba pressed, trying to make him understand her, and watching as recognition settled like fog in his gaze.

"Bear witness to this promise I have made, and promise it as well."

It was then that he nodded a single nod, hard and firm, his gaze deepening in hers.

"I am your first and last, Dilruba," He claimed then, "No other will fucking touch you. You are mine and you belong to only me."

Dilruba's eyes stung again as she held back her tears, knowing what this meant for her. She had promised herself away to him, and if he did not want her close anymore or changed his mind after this night, she would die before she let another man touch her.

She did not want him to make the same promise on his own side. She was not his first and though she very much wanted to be his last, she would never make him promise that to her, because he was not obligated to. Who was she to make him promise anything about his own life when he would not even give her the answer about where he had been after he had brought her here to his room? Making him promise anything about his own life would drive him away from her, he would detach himself from her and he would hold her away. She could not bear that happening, even though she was certain it was going to regardless.

With that, Burhan Abelhamid pushed slowly inside Dilruba, and she let out a small scream as she felt his abundant member invade her painfully.

She tightened her arms around his neck and he stopped, before pushing in slowly again as she breathed heavily, feeling pain sear through her senses as she whimpered.

Burhan moved again, aware of her pain as he slowly retreated before pushing in again, and it was then that Dilruba—after what had felt like an eternity—felt her pain dull away into an insurmountable pleasure.

"Do you want me to stop, farashat rayiea?" He asked, his tone hard as he all but groaned in his own pleasure at the sensation of being inside her.

"Because I will stop, Allah knows I will do any fucking thing you want me to right now despite how much strength it will ask of me."

Dilruba shook her head, pressing her body against him and all but melting into his hold of her.

"Don't stop Burhan," She whispered, "I don't want you to ever stop."

With an exhale, he retreated his member and then pushed into her again, forcing moans from in between her lips that fueled the desperation marring his movements.

Her fingers gripped the hair on his head, her head tipping back as she breathed heavily and cried out his name with every moan.

Burhan groaned at the sight of her unravelling beneath him, and his muscles almost trembled as he gave in to the pleasure, but he held on, quickening his pace as he felt him twitching inside her, her passage tightening around him as she all but choked him.

She was taking his wide girth in with such brilliance for her first time that it almost maddened him into oblivion. He wanted to consume her, to wear her, to fold her up and keep her on his person so that he could have her—be inside her—whenever he pleased.

But Dilruba Badawi would never be content with the way Burhan Abelhamid lived and was, and he knew that. She had told him that he did not deserve her, and fuck, having feasted on her delicious body and now being buried inside it, he could not fucking agree more.

"Burhan," She moaned his name out again, fingers tightening in his hair as she nestled his head close to hers, pressing her cheek against his forehead, her eyes half closed and in a daze.

"Fuck, farashat rayiea," Burhan groaned tightly. "You will make me fucking collapse if you say my name in that voice of yours again."

She forced her eyes open and looked up at him in bewilderment, her nerves at the pit of her stomach was already beginning to gather all her body's pleasure to one center point again, and she knew she was no far away from exploding herself. But how could her merely saying his name hurry him up as well?

The usurper and bandit quickened his pace again, pulling out and pounding into her again and again as he held her body—his arm at the back of her waist and one hand holding her thigh—like she was porcelain that he feared to shatter. He held her like she was precious gold, and if nothing else, Dilruba would've been content to with just holding her like this. Just him holding her was enough to take her breath away, so much so that she wasn't entirely certain how she would survive after this intense intimacy.

When she believed the time came, she held on tightly to him and whispered in his ear.

"I'm going to come, Burhan," Her voice bordered on a whisper-cry before she threw her head backwards and moaned softly.

He let go of her thigh and grabbed hold of her face, caressing her cheek and bringing her face down to meet his eyes head on.

"Come for me, farashat rayiea," Burhan exhaled with ferocious effort, his jaw tight in his pleasure. "But do it while you see and fucking feel only me."

She kissed his thumb which he had rested on her bottom lip, and nodded in desperation to his desire, and soon, before she could realize herself starting to, she exploded full force against him inside her, her body gasping for breath as every muscle dully thrummed with the passion simmering and adrenaline leaving her body.

Burhan continued thrusting inside of her for a few beats, letting her ride her orgasm down before he too came inside of her, stopping as he groaned and caught her jaw with his lips. 

She pulled her head away from him and met her lips to his, kissing him with the last of the strength left inside her. He immediately kissed her back, letting her dominate before he could not submit any longer. He pulled out slowly from her, but leaned in closer to her, pinning her head against the bed as he kept kissing her, shifting his position as he trailed his arm upwards from her back slightly, laid down right next to her and pulled her close to his side in a single movement, all while not breaking their kiss. 

Dilruba was the one to break the kiss as she struggled a little to breathe, her chest rising and falling with the rapid rush of her breaths as she pressed herself closer to him, reveling in the feeling of his strong muscular arm around her back and holding her firmly to him. 

Burhan rested his own head backwards, giving her the respite to breathe while he too panted slowly, his skin glistening with his own sweat as he tipped his eyes towards the ceiling, his thoughts in a trance that he would not unravel coherently. 

"You are a goddess, Dilruba," He spoke then, when the silence in the room—only infiltrated by the sound of their heavy breathing—had allowed him to assemble some sort of lead on his thoughts. 

"You are a goddess and you're fucking mine." 

Dilruba Badawi bit her bottom lip, her cheeks heating as her entire skin prickled. The room was awash in moonlight now, and she wasn't sure what hour of the night it was for the moon to have brightened such so. Perhaps the gem in the sky too had realized how extraordinary of a night this was, and to accommodate, the Arabian moon was obliging both the Hegran dancer and Agraban swordsman with a radiant light to accentuate the pleasure it had so sneakily witnessed. 

Dilruba wondered if a thing such as the moon could ever be jealous of the mortals it looked so often down upon in the vast scape of the earth. The feat had been adamantly declared by the deceased poet Abd al-Uzza from the city of Dumat al-Jandal in one of his poems from a century ago, and though the man's ideas had humanized the moon in a way that no other man had ever sought to before, Dilruba wondered if there was indeed truth to everything the moon was thought to be in poetry and verse. 

It's light illuminated the skin of her legs into a silver hue, just as it did Burhan's. Slowly, shifting her now dried hair over a shoulder by gathering it briefly with a single hand, she sat up on the bed and reached for the thin quilted duvet that sat at the edge of Burhan's bed, taking hold of it and spreading it open to cover both of their bodies. 

She felt Burhan's hand touch her bare back as she did so, before she felt him shift himself onto his elbow and lean forwards to press his lips to the skin at her back. She suppressed a gasp, her eyes shutting briefly before she continued on with her task, turning back to settle again beside him as they lay together with their lower halves covered, and Burhan's arm around her waist pulling her close. 

"Farashat rayiea," Burhan spoke into the silence of their soft breaths after a pause, his eyes fixated on the ceiling while hers were fixed on the sight of a far off Agrabah nestled in between the expanse of the desert from the views being afforded by the two missing walls in his room. 

"Tell me about yourself," He turned his eyes to her as she peered up at him, her head resting against his chest as she heard the steady thrumming of his heart. 

Dilruba fought the urge to bargain. I'll tell you about myself if you do the same. But she knew it would be fruitless to force him, she knew it would only create distances and drive him away, and the latter feat had quickly become a fear of hers. 

"I need to know everything," He breathed. "Everything you tell others and everything you don't. I need to know it all." 

She swallowed thickly, turning her eyes away from him and back onto the city of Agrabah, glowing like a golden diamond of a courtesan's jewelry lost amongst sand. 

"I was born and raised in Hegra," She started, her voice soft as it took on her storyteller poetess' tone, even though her own life was anything but just a story. 

"When my mother fell in love with my father and married him, she left Agrabah for Hegra from where he was from. I was born on the first full moon of January twenty-five years ago, and mother loved to recall how beautiful of a night that had been. I think I had a good life up until I was fourteen, before she passed away. The Sultan of Agrabah—my uncle—had not much been in favor of a princess abandoning her title after marriage to a commoner, for those had been the rules of the kingdom when his father—my maternal grandfather—had been on the throne. After my uncle ascended to the throne, he became.. a kinder ruler, I think. Our family was welcome in Agrabah often, and I loved being at the palace with my cousin. I loved visiting with my family." 

She exhaled then, pausing as her memories did not have much to give upon her prying. 

"I do not remember anything else except that I loved having my cousin close, and her mother—The late Sultana consort of Agrabah, Allah rest her soul—was so kind to all of us, it broke my heart when she passed away. Still the Sultan welcomed us time and time again to the palace and to his city, but then my mother—his sister—too passed away when I was fourteen, and my uncle just.. broke I think. He shattered in a way that he became irreparable, after losing both his wife and his sister." 

Dilruba reached out her hand to touch Burhan's jaw, her thumb caressing his chin softly, her cheek now warm with his warmth as she lay resting against his chest. 

"He shut us out then," She continued, her voice soft and strangely laden with her sympathy. It was strange how putting everything together incited her sympathy when she had felt nothing but contempt at her uncle's behavior before. 

Perhaps it was the mere fact of her taking a step away from thinking of herself as being engulfed in that narrative, and being utterly content with a new narrative that her heart felt blissful in. Perhaps it was all this that had made her empathy rise and her contempt smother. Though Dilruba could not be so sure. 

"The Sultan shut me and my father out, and I never found myself in Agrabah again. My father, he too broke after mother's death. He could not stand the sight of me. Once, in his first time being drunk, he shouted at me at how I looked just like her and he hated that. He called her a bitch, and for a long time I believed he meant my mother. But when I came to Agrabah for Jasmine's wedding, my uncle took one look at me and said that i resembled his mother—my grandmother." 

Dilruba turned her eyes away from the glittering form of Agrabah and look at the city of Thāj, gleaming like a softer pearl placed carefully and with intent into the desert sand. 

"I think father had something against my grandmother, I now believe that it was her he hated because my mother lost the wealth and prestige of her title by marrying him, and he only wanted those two things from the marriage. Perhaps it was grandmother who enforced the rule and stripped her daughter of her title. Still, my father held on because of the Sultan's kindness towards us, but after that too was retracted after my mother's death, my father just.. lost himself entirely." 

Burhan's breathing was steady as he listened to her without interrupting, and Dilruba often found herself pausing to hear his breaths and the beating of his heart to ground herself before she continued with her recollections. 

"He is nothing but a drunkard now, traipsing the streets of Hegra begging married women on the streets for their company in his bed and hating my guts completely but being able to do nothing about it because I am under the patronage of the governor. I tried to help him for a while after I stood on my own feet courtesy of the governor, but after a while I just stopped because there is no fixing him. Lufti Qabbani of Thāj once said that when it is time for some people to exit your life, they just do because they have nothing left to offer you anymore, no love and no empathy. So you let those people go." 

"What did you do after, farashat rayiea?" Abelhamid spoke then, his deep baritone thick and hoarse as his chest rumbled against her when he uttered his words. "What did you do after your mother's death?" 

"I—," She swallowed thickly, "I begged on the streets for food and coins, before Fatima aapa found me. She's one more person after the governor who I owe everything to during that period of my life. She taught me grace, and how to hold myself and how to not.. die on those streets. I got on by for a few years under her guidance, before the governor of Hegra saw me from his sedan chair once on the streets and had me summoned to him. I began working for him, and he had teachers teach me dance and poetry. He spent so much money on me, for my wardrobe, my makeup, my hair, my jewelry, and the talents he discovered in me. He believed in me and invested in me graciously, and I gave him all of it back, and continue to do so."

Burhan exhaled after she had paused, tightening his arm around her bare waist and pulling her closer as though she wasn't close enough before, their legs tangled together under the quilted duvet. He brought his head down and placed his lips on her forehead, kissing her skin and staying still with his lips against her for a minute as though he was considering something, before pulling away. 

He rested his head back onto the bed, but reached his hand around her waist above her and met his other hand, before taking his silver carved ring out from his pointer finger. 

She watched him remove his ring with a sense of gentle curiosity, until he took hold of her left hand resting on his chest and slipped his ring onto her ring finger. The thick silver band was loose on her thin slender finger, and she blinked in slight confusion at her gesture, though her heart doubled in size and clogged her throat. 

"Burhan?"

"I want you to have it," He uttered, his words like stones. "It was my mother's ring. She wore it for most of her life, and I do not have anything else of mine to give you so must have this."

"No," Dilruba raised her head, her brows furrowing as she met his eyes. "Burhan, I can't. Its your mother's, and I—"

"I want you to have it, farashat rayiea," His interrupted her, his words a finality as his eyes bore intensely in hers. "It is a promise to you. My mother would understand why I'm giving it to you, fuck, she would be over the damn moon." 

She broke her gaze away from his, biting her bottom lip as heat engulfed her face, and inspected the ring on her finger to school her composure. The silver of it was striking, and the carving on it added to the exotic mystery of the beautiful band. Dilruba did not wear silver jewelry, but she knew at once that she would make an exception for this band forever if she had to. 

"The carving on it," She spoke softly, "What is it?" 

"It is Greek, sabab maeishati," Burhan responded, and the Hegran girl blushed at his words for her. 

Sabab maeishati. My reason for living. The dialect of Arabic that Burhan spoke in was harsh and direct, and it never failed to take her by surprise and completely wreak havoc in her heart. 

"It is a phrase from one of my mother's earliest poems," He began, "I told you she was a poetess. One of her devoted followers was Greek, and he had this ring made for her, translating his favorite verse by her into his language. It says 'It wasn't a dream to be with you, it was a prayer.'" 

The Hegran court dancer sighed. "What a beautiful gesture of love from him." 

To her surprise, Burhan scoffed. "I did not know what phrase he had translated for years and I didn't realize enough to care, until my mother let it slip to me with much amusement later in her life, long after the Greek had died. Had I known before, I would have broken the bastard's legs and he would have gone to his maker sooner."

 Dilruba laughed, her emerald eyes glittering with mirth and he smirked briefly at her reaction. 

"People fall in love with poets and poetesses all the time, munqidhi," She uttered gently then, caressing his stubbled cheek with her hand. "I have too, with all the poets I have ever cherished words of. But it is a different kind of love, a respectful worship of the art of an artist who was only capable in the first place, because of Allah. So indirectly, it is a worship of God himself."

"You could not have made me understand this then, had you tried, farashat rayiea." 

She shook her head, smiling. Turning her eyes away from his, she inspected the ring again and turned it on her finger. Thinking of his mother's verse and what it meant for the both of them now, for surely, though it was founded of a Greek man's love and appreciation for a poetess, it was now a symbol of proper love between Burhan and Dilruba, was it not? He had said he had given it to her as a promise, and though she wanted to, she could not bring herself to ask what that promise entailed. 

It was then that footsteps were heard climbing the staircase to the room. 

"Rayis!" It was the man Ghazi's voice that called from halfway down the stairs, as he shouted for his leader.

"Permission to bring the food up, Rayis." 

Burhan lifted his chin to look at Dilruba, as the Hegran girl quickly sat up, holding the quilt up to cover her chest as she straightened herself. Annoyance flashed across Burhan's eyes at the disruption, but he exhaled and sat up as well, not bothering to cover himself more than the quilted duvet was already covering his lower half. 

"Bring it," He called to his man, and the footsteps on the staircase sounded again, nearer and nearer before Ghazi's head appeared into view alongside the rest of his body and the tray of food he was holding at his chest. 

The man averted his eyes out of respect for Dilruba, approaching the bed and placing the tray of food on the sheets. A steaming pot of thick chicken gravy sat in a mud pot on the tray, alongside a stack of flattened pita bread. A small dish also held balls of sweetened falafel—made of chick peas, and another mud pot on the tray was filled with Mujadara—a combination of rice and lentils that Dilruba considered absolutely delicious done the Hegran way, though she hadn't yet tried the Agraban version of the dish. 

"Sorry it took a while, Rayis," Ghazi uttered, his voice low and hesitant as he addressed his leader. "Yunis was not—"

"Do not bother me with petty fucking trifles between the men," Burhan let out, his tone hard and harsh as he all but spat the words. "If anyone does not co-operate to the brink of blatant ignorance, only then you bring the matter to me." 

There was impatience in Burhan's manner, as though after placing reliance on his initial second in command—Khair—having to start the process all over again with another man appointed to the fallen's position, was frustrating for him. 

"Yes, Rayis," The man responded submissively. 

"Did you and.. Yunis make all this?" Dilruba found herself speaking, remorse for Burhan's harsh tone with his man striking at her. 

Ghazi lifted his eyes briefly to glance at her in surprise at being addressed by her. 

"Yes, sayidati," He said then, voice still hesitant. "If you do not approve, I shall have it redone—"

"No," Dilruba shook her head, smiling. "Everything smells so wonderful, I'm sure it will be delicious, thank you."

Ghazi swallowed, nodding his head and not knowing what to say. He glanced at Burhan then, and Dilruba could tell that he had something urgent to say and was only worried about the Rayis' mood at present.

As if biting the edging of the sword, Ghazi opened his mouth to convey what he had been required to. 

"Rayis," He began, steeling his voice. "I am sorry to bring this up right now, but we have found where the Sultan is assembling his army to take back the palace of Agrabah. He has been successfully baited to Al-Fāw. He has allied with the Sultan of Qaryat al-Fāw, and their combined army stands at 20,000 men at present. The army is being gathered at the outskirts of Qaryat al-Fāw, and if they decide to march now, they will be at Agrabah in a month's time." 

Dilruba's lips parted in shock, her heart pounding in her chest as she looked at Burhan. His own gaze was fixed on the tray of food, his mind elsewhere as an intense expression of hatred and determination played on his facial features. 

"Then it is time to take control over the entirety of the city of Agrabah and hand it over—the palace included—to the mushaewadh, and get our due. He will be having it just as he wanted it, the two Sultans both promenading towards him only to be knocked out with his one throw. Our job here is almost done." 

Burhan raised his eyes now and as he looked at his man, Dilruba saw satisfaction swirl in his dark irises, adding fuel to the fear she felt escalating in her chest. Mushaewadh. Warlock. Who was this person Burhan was usurping on behalf of? What was the due that he wanted in return? Agrabah was his home city, was it not? Why was he stealing it off like this, and for what? Wealth? Power? 

"Tell the men keeping watch to inform me the second the army leaves Qaryat al-Fāw, we leave for that city as soon as we hand Agrabah over. I want to strike at Al-Fāw when the city's the ripest for the taking." 

Ghazi furrowed his brows, confusion clear on his face. "But Rayis, the mushaewadh does not want Qaryat al-Fāw. At least, that was what he said." 

"He wants it, Ghazi," Burhan sneered. "What man wouldn't, when the city will be so ripe for the taking? I will be the one there when the mushaewadh finally arrives thinking he has won everything. He fucking underestimated my price and I will be damned if I let anyone make that mistake again." 

"Yes, Rayis," Ghazi nodded obediently then, but just as he turned to dismiss himself, Burhan stopped him with a gesture of a raised hand, a hard expression on his face.

"And get yourself fucking together Ghazi," Burhan snarled. "My plans for Al-Fāw are known to almost all of my men. You are my fucking second in command and I will not repeat things to you again and again. Pull head out of your behind, if I catch you weighing my plans down I will cut your fucking mindless body into pieces and scatter them all over the desert, do you understand me?" 

***

A/N:
you guys please validate me on this story? I'm kind of terrified nobody is reading it and I'm putting so much effort in fruitlessly? if you're liking this, please drop a little vote! It would encourage me to continue!! thankyou<3