AkDha OS

Holding her tight

The room smelled of jasmines, mogras, lilies, roses, slime and blood. The room appeared bleaky, like the night sky. Even the divine lady sleeping on the queen-size bed couldn't drive away the gloom. Her face looked dull, she appeared like a fragile cotton doll.

The palace appeared really high bigger than even the Agra fort, as she moved ahead the black door opened into another long staircase leading to an underground room. The room had tall racks with books stacked all around, she hadn't seen a bigger collection of books, even the royal library where she read to His Majesty was much smaller. As she turned to pick up a book, the books started flying overhead, the strings of the book covers came open revealing a few interesting quotes. She could see the pictures of witches, wizards, elfs, dragons and other creatures in it. Her heart  fluttered at the discovery. All her life she could feel magic around her, every moment spent with the Emperor had magic already woven into it. Yet it felt like the end was near.

"Jodha, Jodha" a voice was heard.

"Are you fine, Jodha" His majesty asked to the sleeping lady.

She wished he would stop talking, the dream was getting real, intense, she was feeling delirious. Her fever had ceased and her right leg had stopped paining, which she knew was a bad sign.

"Water" she shouted as she tried to sit. Jalal saw this made her drink some water and asked her not to stress herself.

She looked at his face the scar on the left side of his face shone, it was a symbol of his bravery in the war. Yet she felt that imperfect scar made him look better, made him more human. His concern for her radiated through his eyes. She would have never  believed he could ever be vulnerable, had she not lived with him for so long, she knew well enough when he was trying too hard to not show his feelings. She held his face and ran her hand through the scar on his face, through his silky hair. He held her hand tight, she could see the unshed tears shining through his eyes. She was never afraid of death, she was a Rajput, queen of the Mughal empire, blood was not new to her just like death. Johar was a true  allegory of the bravery of the Rajput women. Death didn't frighten her as much as leaving him did. He would always miss her, he would continue living after her, have children, after all he was the emperor, but his feelings for her ran too deep for him to ever be the same.

He looked at her pale hands. The wound of her right leg had stopped bleeding, he was a battle veteran, he had seen many wounds and scars, he knew which wound would poison and prove fatal . Even her fever had ceased which meant, that the body had stopped fighting. In such a case a person may live for two days or two weeks, but not more. That thought just made a deep hole in his heart, he couldn't bear the thought of it how will he live if it actually happens. She had meant the world to him, living without her seemed impossible. He was a warrior, he had seen many scars but he knew this scar would never heal. Thinking otherwise was preposterous. He knew he had many queens, but she was different, special. She was like the north star, the only constant thing in his life, everything else would change, but her love for him never would, this war had proved it enough already. He knew he was the emperor, the empire needed him, he was duty bound to the thrown  and he knew she would like it that way. Yet she was the only woman  on whose lap, could he sleep like a child, be a notorious little kid, tease her, pamper her, she was sadly the only one.

                                                            ******

The entire caravan was ready to leave for the war. The goods were packed, water and food was stored for the journey. The warriors with their swords clenched were eager to leave for their fight. Everyone was in a rush as the fort prepared for the impending war.