Arabian Nights - Yami Yugi x OC

Chapter 3 - Secret Admirer

edited 9/4/2020

When I wake the next morning, Nahla is standing next to my bed, holding a violet sari (above) I've never seen before. It's simple, and at the same time, beautiful.

"Good morning, Zariah," Nahla greets me as I rub sleep from my eyes. "I trust you slept well?"

"Like a baby," I reply. My eyes land on the purple sari again. "What is that?"

"This? I don't know," Nahla says.

I sit up and she hands me the sari. "It is beautiful," I remark. "About as fine as anything I've ever owned. Or Umi. But I have never seen it before in my life." A ray of sunlight lands on the sari and the hue it turns reminds me of Atem's eyes.

"Neither have I. A palace guard delivered it here a couple hours ago, saying it was for you," Nahla informs me. "I bet it would look amazing on you."

"Me too." I can't wait to try it on, if it really is for me. But who sent it?

"Why don't you try it on, and we'll head to breakfast, okay?" I nod, and Nahla helps me change.

I choose a pair of gold earrings to hang in my ears and a set of gold bangle bracelets to adorn my wrists before Nahla leads me to breakfast. When we arrive, everybody stares at me and awestruck looks take over their faces. I find that there's one only gaze that I'm craving: Atem's. And I receive it.

Subtly, I lean closer to Nahla. "Why is everyone staring at me?" I whisper in her ear.

"Arjuk. You haven't seen how amazing you look yet," she replies.

Sure, the sari that I'm wearing is beautiful, and it fits me perfectly, but please. It can't be that amazing. I could have also turned heads because I'm the only woman here, aside from Nahla and the blue-eyed woman on the pharaoh's council with the gold necklace.

Only one seat is vacant: the one next to Atem. I silently thank Allah and sit next to him as a plate of food is placed in front of me.

"New sari, Zariah?" Baba asks.

I nod in reply. "Nahla said that the palace guards delivered it to my room this morning, but neither of us know who sent it."

"Purple was your mother's favorite color," Baba says wistfully.

"I remember. She always looked so radiant in her purple saris." I smile, remembering how I used to always ask Umi if I could try on her clothes. They never fit me, of course, but I loved it every time she draped the silky fabric over my body. Now that her saris fit me, I've always felt closer to her whenever I wear one that was once hers.

I eat my breakfast in silence, listening to the small talk of everyone else at the table. Atem's elbow bumps mine a couple times, and each time, my skin tingles where he'd touched me.

"You truly do look radiant in that sari, Princess Zariah," Atem whispers to me about halfway through the meal.

"Please, call me Zariah," I insist. "I wish I knew who sent it so I could thank them. But I must admit, it is strange."

"Strange how?" he replies.

"It fits me perfectly. I have been here barely a day, so who could know my exact size, or that purple is one of my favorite colors?" I ask.

"Is it." Once he says that, I realize where my gaze has been this whole time, and my cheeks flush with heat as silence hangs in the air between us. (For all y'all's nasty ass brains, she was looking at his eyes, don't make this sexual, because it's not.)

"Purple was also my mother's favorite color," I say in an attempt to relieve the silence. "When I was younger, I used to love trying on her saris. She had one that looked almost exactly like this one, only it had jade beading instead of gold." By Allah, Zariah, SHUT UP!

Despite my rambling, Atem smiles warmly. "Was your mother as beautiful as you?"

It's my turn to smile. "Baba says so. Most days, I believe him."

"Why not all?"

"I, uh, have my days. Teenage girl and all," I say, choosing my words carefully. He nods in understanding.

"A princess like yourself should always feel like a princess," he says.

"I don't know. Sometimes, I wish I could be normal." If the old stories Umi used to tell me growing up about Aladdin and the lamp were true, the first thing I would wish for if I had the lamp would be a chance to be normal, even if only for a couple of hours.

"People like us don't exactly have the luxury of choice, do we," he says.

"Exactly. Do you have any idea how many different men have pranced into my home asking to marry me? Some of them have been nothing short of appalling," I complain. "I wish I could choose for myself instead of Baba choosing for me."

"As the crown prince, I have the responsibility of making many choices, yet none are for myself. My father's always had my whole life planned out for me," Atem says. "It makes me feel —"

"Trapped," I finish for him. "Me too."

I notice Atem bite his lower lip and stare at his plate for a moment before he looks back at me. "Would you care to join me for a walk in the gardens tomorrow afternoon?" he asks.

Oh, my Allah, YES, I want to scream. Instead, I smile at him and say, "It would be my honor, Prince Atem."

He smiles, probably in relief that I said yes. But I don't mind. I love seeing him smile.

•••

Later that evening, as I change into my nightclothes, I hear a knock at my door. I look up from brushing my hair as Nahla opens the door. It's Atem. Whaaaaaaaaat?

"Atem. What brings you here?" I ask, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"I only wanted to say 'you're welcome,'" he says.

I knit my eyebrows in confusion, and then it makes sense. The sari. Palace guards as delivery boys. But how did he get my measurements? And how was a sari that elaborate that would take weeks of work made flawlessly in a single night?

"You sent the sari, didn't you?" I ask. Better to stick with one question for now.

"Guilty. I must say, our finest artisans did an amazing job."

I stand up and go to him, gently wrapping him in a hug. "I hope I'm not overstepping my bounds. But...thank you."

He gently returns the hug. "My pleasure." I feel him give me a peck on my cheek before he leaves.

As I lay down in bed, I subconsciously run my fingertips over the place on my cheek where his lips were only a few moments ago.  I already miss the feeling of his kiss on my skin and my body wrapped in his. Is he going to kiss me again tomorrow, or will he leave things at hugging? Will he try to kiss me on the lips? More questions cycle through my mind as I drift into unconsciousness, but one remains prominent.

Does he feel for me like I feel for him?

A/N: YAAAAAAYYYY I'M BAAAAAAAAACK!!!! Sorry I've been gone, but the stomach flu was pulling some evil shit on my body. Like, I could barely keep water down. If I wasn't busy blowing chunks, then I was sleeping or watching How To Train Your Dragon, and thus, had no time to write something new. I am feeling better, but I'm only about 75 percent, which would explain why some parts of this might be pretty shitty. At least the fluids are staying in my stomach where they belong, instead of all over my jammies and my face. What are you gonna do when you've got the stomach flu?

BFNS!

— Kal 💙