I once believed love would be burning red,
But it's golden-
~~~
Her footsteps were quiet, her gold anklets crafted into a design that would ensure its silence. The Empress of Aryavarta, the Queen of Indraprastha, was after all, a mother and a perfectionist - and that applied to even the smallest of details.
Such as ensuring that she never wore jewellery that made too much noise in the innermost quarters of the palace - she would never risk walking into a room to check if the children were asleep, and accidentally waking them up. The fact that her children had somehow inherited an especially sharp sense when it came to detecting their mother's presence, certainly did not help.
Even Abhimanyu. Especially Abhimanyu.
She smiled to herself as she walked down the wide hallway towards her room, a candelabra in hand. But suddenly she stilled, detecting a change in the air almost like a predator in the wild.
No, a prey. But, in the sweetest, most enticing of ways.
Every bone in her body, every cell, locked in place - anticipating; and she wasn't wrong to wait.
A rough palm was placed right on her neck and it pulled her straight towards the wall, behind the pillars and curtains and hanging indoor creepers, right into the burning heat of a towering frame, packed with unrelenting ripples of iron-hard muscle, and tan skin covered in a sheen of glistening sweat. The candelabra was swiftly removed from her hand in one fluid motion placed somewhere - somewhere she couldn't focus enough to see.
The scent of smoke and clove thickened the air and she sank back into his chest, tilting her head into his masculine darkness, the aura of raw wildness that her radiated. Her eyes glided upwards to meet his eyes, magnetic and darkening with every passing moment that he felt her skin against his own.
Her teeth sunk into her lower lip, an automatic reaction to that carnal gaze, and he nearly lunged like a starved predator - seizing her lips in the captivity of his own. A shudder passed through them both, a shock of pleasure, and his arms tightened around her, as if he could never pull her quite enough into himself, into the core of his very being. He drank and drank from her lips, unable to take in enough of her raw feminine essence, her lotus fragrance.
His lips stayed latched onto her skin, even as they moved away from her lips.
"I'll miss you.", she gasped, struggling to catch her breath, as his mouth traversed to the crook of her neck.
"You'll still have that tiny part of me right here, with you, my rose.", his voice grew rougher, almost desperate as he said, "Don't begrudge me for a marital alliance."
She relaxed into his hold, the simple gesture a mark of her absolute trust in him, and tilted her head to give him further access, and said, "Why would I? And not merely because I myself am in a polyamorous marriage, or because you were married beforehand. But I have no reason to begrudge you when you have been nothing short of a perfect husband to me, a perfect father to our child, a perfect step-father and uncle to my other child."
He shuddered. Maybe it was the heady lilt in her voice, or the raw honesty in it, or maybe it was the way she wove her words together - always so considerate, so terribly understanding, with such an insanely expert way with her words. Sometimes, he wanted to get into the inside of her mind.
The mere imagination of the beauty of her thoughts drew him insane - he was certain that they rivalled her physical beauty.
"You don't begrudge her, either, my Lord. She will be family."
He almost scoffed. No, a stranger certainly was not family. Not everyone thought like her. Not everyone was ready to get married to five Brahmin brothers who did not possess a single pinch of wealth or renown or anything of social significance. Not everyone would be ready to venture into a desolate land of dangerous wilderness with her husbands with the most gracious smile on their face. Not everyone could be so absolutely perfect in every single damn way in a life so utterly complicated.
No one but she was her match.
But she would never hear those praises. Furthermore, because if she wanted to call yet another co-wife family, he would surrender to her wish. It would take time, but he would. He always did.
His grip on her throat fractionally tightened, and she sunk further into the heat of his presence.
"Stay safe.", he whispered as his free hand slightly grazed her slightly grown abdomen - the evidence of the child growing within her. Fifteen weeks, Sahadeva had said.
He had noticed the glance of liquid fire that Arjuna had exchanged with their wife at that. No one was begrudging them, though. They all loved each child equally. It was difficult at times, but their shared love for their mother made it easier.
"I will.", she whispered, as she slowly clutched his hand in hers, tracing a red-painted finger over a snaking vein, and then brought it up to her lips and pressed the softest of kisses.
He could rip his own heart out and place it at her feet, at that moment.
~~~
Hey people,
I apologize for the delay. I got into three major clubs in college and was drowning in work. Then we had six exams, and three mega-fests. And one departmental fest. And one workshop. Yeah, dead. Now, I finally feel like I can breathe again (while I have the research paper I'm working on opened in the next tab, and more GDG paperwork opened in the previous tab, but HEY).
I hope everyone is having a beautiful Navratri/Durga Pujo so far.
This one is just a glimpse and I'd love to watch all the guessworks pour in.
~Love and gratitude(for sticking around),
Bristi xoxo
~~~
[DATE: 23/09/2024; WORDS: 1001]
YOU ARE READING
The Burning Rose
Historical FictionA MAHABHARATA RETELLING ~~~ All the other flowers in the garden were brought up to envy the rose. Maybe shun it even. And admire it, too. Unusual ways. Too-red petals, too-sharp thorns, too-sweet fragrance. If only each flower did not have a mind...
