This is basically a Conti fic and the story follows from the attack on Jalaal in the forest where Jodha had removed the bullets from his gun.
This fiction was originally posted on India Forums by Princess Flavia/ Chhalki Syaahi. Yes, I am still ali...
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Jalaal left for Amer with a huge caravan. The highest and mighty of the Mughal Empire were on their way to attend Sukanya's marriage. It was a grand group and with so many of the people of the royal family together, a portion of the army was deployed for their protection. After Jalaal's recent tryst with the tiger and keeping in mind the threats to his life, Adka Ji did not want to take a chance. Security arrangements were extensive.
And in the midst of all this, Jalaal was in his usual arrogant, uncaring self. He gave a damn about his own safety. He had allowed the safety measures for the protection of the women traveling with him. He was a battle-hardened warrior who could easily protect himself. It was the people traveling with him that worried about him. But he would not have it any other way. He had promised Raja Bharmal that he would attend Sukanya's wedding. And he would keep his promise. Nothing could stop him from doing so.
Seeing that Jalaal was adamant in attending Sukanya's marriage, Atga Ji had made elaborate arrangements. A platoon of soldiers of the size of a small army accompanied Jalaal and the women of his harem as they made their way towards Amer.
It was a beautiful day, the sun was high up in the sky, but its rays were not burning the travelers. With winter just around the corner, the weather had taken a pleasant turn. The convoy made its way through the roads, villages and forests with much laughter and merriment.
Jodha was sitting in her palanquin and was chatting with Moti and Chanda who walked by her side. The roads were not always smooth; they had to pass over small hillocks and deep valleys, big cities and small villages. Wherever they went, their convoy drew considerable attention and Jodha watched her husband greet the common people with much smile and happiness.
She used this time to solve the enigma that was Shehenshaah Jalaluddin Mohammad. She watched him surreptitiously from behind the screen of her palki. He was handsome - she would give him that. His skin was fair - extremely so and his features were sharp. The broad brow, high cheekbones, the aquiline nose, and those rose-red lips... he seemed to be a work of art. Added to this, his personality, the aura of power and command which surrounded him and made him almost unapproachable by the common man. No wonder both friends and foes held him in high esteem.
She also knew that he was a formidable warrior. And how could he not? After spending so much time on the battlefield, it was but natural that he would turn out to be a great warrior. But it irked her that he was so gullible where his coterie was concerned. Very few people were close to him - and he believed those few people blindly. Did it never occur to him that these people would take advantage of him? She knew Maham Anga did. And sometimes, so did Ruqaiyya. And the one who was his well-wisher was relegated to the background because she had chosen to leave Jalal in the care of Maham Anga and followed her husband to Kabul. As if she had led a very comfortable life. Sometimes, the situation forced a person to take tough decisions and that was what Hamida Bano Begum, her mother in law had done. But instead of trying to understand that, Jalaal held it against his mother. As if he did not take such hard decisions in his life. Call of double standards, her mind scoffed.
