She imagined it starting in many different ways.
She would be training, rapidly throwing out jab after jab no matter how heavy the weights on her arms were. Then, just as she threw a kick, something would scoop her off her feet. She would look back in surprise to see him. Then, without a word, he would carry her off. She would be too busy blushing to protest.
Or he would offer her a dance, which she would graciously accept. The music would get faster and faster, until there was nothing but passion between them. After an eternity of rhythm and undulation, he would take her hand and lead her away. She would pretend to resist, but he would see right through it, because she wasn't using any strength.
Or perhaps the two would be walking along somewhere, with her too busy examining his blonde locks to see what was in front of her. This would lead to her tripping over something, and she wouldn't see what it was even as she fell. Her hand would reach out blindly, and catch his arm. Before she knew it, the two of them would be lying in a heap, staring into each others' eyes. He would help her up without breaking her gaze. Then, as one, the two of them would look down at their intertwined fingers. No words would need to be exchanged. She would smile, and he would nod.
However it started, the next part would always go the same way. He would bring her to an empty room reserved for one or both of them. Aladdin and other distractions would be nowhere to be found. Once the door was closed, he would confess his undying love to her and promise to be with her always. She wouldn't believe him, but she would pretend to as he carried her to the bed.
She wanted him to lie to her.
Their lips would meet many times. She would run her hands through his hair. He would trace little ticklish lines up her arms with his fingers. She would smile more than she had any right to. He would whisper sweet nothings into her ear as he stripped her clothes off.
She wouldn't know what to do, but he would. He would teach her everything she needed to know. She would experience joy that night beyond her wildest dreams.
And then he would leave.
Depending on which version she was imagining, he might stay the night with her, letting her hold on to him with a bored expression on his face. Or the regret and retreat might be almost instantaneous. But one way or another, when the morning came, she would be alone.
When she next saw him, he wouldn't bring it up. Or the next time, or the time after that. Eventually, she would confront him about it, and he would say that what they did was a mistake, and that he was sorry for taking advantage of her like that.
It would be exactly what she had been expecting to hear. After all, she had known from the beginning that it was all a lie.
She had wanted that lie.
And with that, the fantasy ended right where it had begun; with her lying in bed, crying silently into the pillow she had clutched against her chest; her poor substitute for the man she wanted but could never have.
It was hard enough for her to imagine being in a relationship, but the idea of a relationship with Alibaba Saluja was unthinkable. She wasn't good enough for him, and she knew it. How could she be? What could a prince possibly see in a former slave that was only free because of him? How could a man that could inspire people with words and a smile ever be attracted to a girl that could only be a burden?
In the end, the only type of fantasy she could have of him was one where he used her. It was the only way she could comprehend; the only way it could even be remotely believable.
And really, when she got right down to it, the idea of someone as wonderful as Alibaba wanting to bed someone as wretched as her even once was quite flattering, even if it was based on a lie. It was the closest thing to a perfect fantasy she could ever have.
So why did it make her feel so empty?
