TARA : Beyond The Time ( Under Editing)

Friendly combat

Author's pov

As Dhruv  made his way towards the Queen Mother, he couldn't help but steal a glance at Tara, who was now making her way out of the grand hall with a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. A pang of concern tugged at his heart, but duty called, and he pushed the thoughts aside for the moment.

Engaging the Queen Mother in polite conversation, Dhruv inquired about the well-being of the princesses and the overall atmosphere in Ranivaas. The Queen Mother assured him that all was well, but Dhruv's mind remained preoccupied with Tara's sudden departure and the cryptic expression she wore.

Before he could pursue her, Bheem Singh, his loyal advisor, approached with urgency written across his face. "Ranasa , it is time for the friendly combat. The warriors await your presence," Bheem Singh announced, his tone brooking no argument.

Caught between his concern for Tara and the demands of his duties as king, Dhruv reluctantly excused himself from the Queen Mother's presence, promising to return soon. As he followed Bheem Singh to the training grounds, his thoughts raced with unanswered questions.

What had caused Tara's sudden departure? Was she upset about something, or was it merely a trick of the light? Dhruv knew he needed to find out, but for now, the call of duty took precedence.

As they reached the training grounds, Dhruv pushed aside his personal concerns and focused on the task at hand.

As the friendly combat commenced, the training grounds buzzed with anticipation. Dhruv, clad in traditional wrestling attire, exchanged greetings with the other princes, masking his inner turmoil with a regal facade. With each respectful nod, he reaffirmed the bonds of camaraderie that united them in this friendly competition.

The air crackled with energy as the competitors squared off, their muscles tensing in anticipation of the bout ahead. Dhruv's opponent, Prince Vikram, stood tall and formidable, his eyes gleaming with determination.

With a customary bow to their spectators, the two wrestlers locked eyes, each silently acknowledging the skill and strength of the other. As the signal was given, they lunged forward, their movements fluid and precise, like dancers in a timeless performance.

The crowd erupted into cheers as the wrestlers grappled with each other, their bodies twisting and contorting in a display of raw power and agility. Dhruv's muscles strained against Vikram's formidable defense, each move calculated and strategic.

Their wrestling match unfolded like an intricate dance, a symphony of grunts and exertion echoing across the training grounds. Dhruv's focus remained unwavering, his mind sharp and alert despite the distractions that lingered on the periphery.

With a sudden burst of energy, Dhruv executed a well-timed maneuver, flipping Vikram onto his back with a resounding thud. The crowd erupted into applause as Dhruv emerged victorious, a triumphant smile gracing his features for a fleeting moment before his masked expression returned.

As he helped Vikram to his feet, the mutual respect between the competitors was palpable. Despite the fierce competition, the bonds of brotherhood prevailed, uniting them in a shared love for the art of combat.

With the friendly wrestling match concluded, Dhruv exchanged nods of acknowledgment with his fellow princes, a silent acknowledgment of their shared camaraderie. As they dispersed to tend to their bruises and congratulate one another, Dhruv couldn't shake the feeling that the day's events were far from over.

"Dhruv, my boy, you've grown into quite the formidable warrior," King Amar remarked, his eyes twinkling with pride as he clasped Dhruv's shoulder.