In the alternate universe, set in the medieval period, where power rules and superstition lingers in the thin air, the tale of The Last Princess unfolds.
For the hazel eyed king has secrets, desires and motives.
The champagne eyed queen has fears...
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Phalgun (February/March) had arrived, the air spelled with spirits of brotherhood. A grand, colourful fair and a huge gathering was to be held to rejoice the harvest of wheat and the abundance of food.
The busy markets of Mewar which usually roared even after dawn were obedient today. However the shops were still stuffed full, the streets narrow and both the vendors and the buyers impatient and obstinate.
The queen of Mewar was out shopping today. It had been a month since she was back from her maternal home. Rang Teras was coming up in a week and Anika had never seen such preparations before. People of Mewar surely knew how to celebrate. The market was huge, filled to the brim with everything a person may want to buy in red, green and orange. It was no big deal for the vendors to make a hundred acre land feel small with their stalls, Anika thought. Anika winced thinking how many people had to cancel their shopping trips today for her. She had initially wanted to go in disguise, but her husband hadn't agreed.
According to him, before any festival, the markets were stuffy and herd of people climbed on top of each others heads like wild monkeys. His words, not hers.
And there was no way he would let the queen of Chittorgarh be exposed to such deafening chaos.
So far, she was looking around the place, nothing had caught her eyes yet. Her father had yet again sent gifts on the occasion of gifts, much to her husband's displeasure.
The man had written a letter to his father in law saying that he could provide everything the former man's daughter could possibly want and would hang the moon for her in their balcony if she just asked. There was no need to send gifts every other day. Her father had said that this was his duty to ensure his daughter and her in-laws were taken care of. In the end, the Samrat could only assure the older man that his kingdom was in fact one of the richest in the region and they were facing no such discomforts.
Everything in the market were in shades of peridot, spinel and citrine for they were the favourites colours of the people of Mewar. The festival more of a homage to Mother Earth by the farmers. The women were all set to observe fasts while the young were buzzing with excitement. However, Anika was most thrilled about watching the performance of Ghair, followed by the hunt for coconuts. The elderly were preparing to play 'Nagadas' (a traditional musical instrument) while the young men determined to mimick the rhythm of the playing music with bamboo sticks and swords.
Anika browsed through the numerous decorations available in the market. She wanted to decorate her palace beautifully. She already had a clear vision which contained diyas, flambeaus, a cornucopia of flowers. Anika looked through the goods with utter concentration.
She rummaged through the various dupattas, picking a few for herself. They were so intricately designed with the finest of vibrant colours that Anika couldn't just choose a few. She was going to take the entire shop with her, the maids thoughts. The vendor was jubilant as nobody wanted to buy such expensive goods, at least not in a large quantity. The Gods had finally looked at him, he thought.
In her frenzy, Anika bumped into a larger, taller, man who a scar runnning down his cheek. She nearly winced while her guards now stood alert. Recognition flashed in their eyes, halting their movements.
The scar didn't faze her much, but the chubbychild in his arms did. Her large cobalt eyes looking at everything with her interest. Anika was knocked sideways. The sheer beauty of the child had taken her breath away. She had had never seen such a beautiful child before.
The man, prompted to move away, was stopped by his daughter who let out a gleeful giggle while extending her small, chubby arms to the queen of the kingdom. Anika was gobsmacked once again. Raghav apologised briefly for bumping in to her as he turned to leave the shop, leaving his sister in law standing stupefied.
***
For the first time in years, Raghav was anxious. Nothing in this universe was a coincidence, he has always believed. Why did the Samrat call him here? And why did he have to bump into the queen? He clutched his daughter tighter, breathing in her baby scent, his anxiousness now minimising. The said child now laid her head on her father's broad shoulder, tired from her little excursion.
The truth wasn't something anyone could bury deep enough for it to not crawl back out. And after a long time, the infamous spy of Mewar was afraid. He wasn't the best with words, he didn't know how he couldn't explain everything to his wife. Would she listen to him? Would she believe him? What if she starts to doubt his love?
He brushed these thoughts away.
There was no way he would lose her, not now, not ever.
It had only been a few days since they had arrived in the capital. His wife was fussing all over their, now larger, new home. It had been a gift from the king.
Rang Teras was coming up and while Raghav didn't care for these festivals, his wife did. She was spiritual and believed in all the rituals and traditions.
While the mother of the house was busy with the household chores, the father and daughter duo decided to go out for a stroll and also because the caramel eyed man wanted to buy a little something for his beloved wife.
Even though Raghav had enough money to provide a comfortable life for his family, it was no match for the life of a princess. Also his wife refused to splurge on stuff she found unnecessary and rather wanted to save for the unforeseen future and also for their daughter. The Samrat had wanted to pay him for his meticulous job, but he had refused. It was no job for him after all. He had done this for his wife, not for the king.
He had gotten an expensive, silk scarf for his wife. It was the colour of the ocean, with a few streaks of purple. The vendor was surprised to see a commoner buy a purple piece of silk that only the royals or high officials could afford. However the man was too happy to sell it and didn't ask many questions or maybe it was the scar on the particular customer's face that made him, like most people, mute.
***
Both the king and queen were exhausted from the previous day's festivities. Due to the numerous events, rituals and royal duties they haven't been able to meet each other or even greet one another the whole day. Anika was worn out following her fast. The heat was merciless, the entire kingdom was chaotic.
Anika laid on the huge bed in her chamber while her husband laid on top of her, his head on her generous chest. She felt too weak to even lift a finger, however kept her arms loosely wound around her lover's torso.
Shivaay laid there, closer to his wife than her jugular yet his heart disquieted. Threats from the Mughals loomed like dark clouds of rain. There were already too many things in his mind, Raghav and Avanti were in the capital, his wife had met him today. He closed his eyes in frustration, tightening his arms around her petite body, making her closed eyes open as she stared at him in confusion.
"Shivaay?" Her voice smooth like saccharine waterfalls, breaking his trance.
"Ji?" (Yes?)
"Kya baat hain?" (What's the matter?)
He pressed a small kiss on her cleavage, lifting his head to look into her honey brown orbs that mesmerised him every time.
