Varenhal Kingdom, 1754

The royal court was unusually full that day.

Ministers, nobles, village heads, all of them gathered under the high carved ceilings of the throne room, murmuring among themselves. At the center of it all, King Rayan sat on the Rajsinghasan, the great throne of Varenhal, looking younger than a king perhaps should. Twenty four years old, steady eyed, but uncertain in a way he was trying hard not to show.

Across from him stood three British officers in their pressed red coats. Polite smiles. Folded hands. A document placed carefully on the table before the throne.

"Your Majesty," the lead officer said in the trade tongue, slowly and carefully. "This is simply a business agreement. We ask for nothing more than permission to trade within your kingdom's borders. We will bring goods. We will bring doctors for your villages. We will build roads. And when our work is done, we will leave."

Rayan looked at the document.

He could not read a single word of it.

(Should I trust this? Something feels wrong. But what do I actually know about what they want?)

uneasy

He looked at his ministers. His ministers looked at each other.

Then from outside the throne room, muffled but unmistakable, came the sound of voices. Many voices. Growing louder.

A minister stepped outside and returned quickly. "My king. The people have gathered at the palace gates."

"What are they saying?"

The minister hesitated. "They are asking you to sign."

Rayan stood slowly and walked to the high window.

Below, in the wide courtyard and spilling into the road beyond, hundreds of commoners. Farmers, traders, mothers holding children. And they were not angry. They were hopeful. Hands pressed together. Faces turned upward toward the palace.

"Please, our king!"

"They will help us!"

"Let them stay, it will be good for us!"

Rayan stood there for a long moment.

(My own people are asking me themselves. How can I refuse them?)

torn

He turned back. Walked to the table.

His queen Meera sat beside the throne. Six months heavy with their first child, calm and warm as she always was. She met his eyes.

"Whatever you decide," she said softly. "I am with you."

He picked up the pen.

He signed.

Varenhal Kingdom, 1756, Two Years Later

The road was alive.

People lined both sides, pressing close, some standing on their doorsteps, some leaning out of windows. Children ran alongside the carriage laughing, throwing flower petals that scattered in the warm wind. Old women pressed their hands to their hearts. Men bowed their heads.

"Welcome back, Princess!"

"Our princess has returned!"

"Blessings on you, dear princess!"

Aadhira sat by the carriage window and looked at all of them. Her people. Her home. Something loosened in her chest that had been tight for three whole years.

She pressed her hand to her heart and bowed her head toward them.

Huh. Still the same warmth.

But something felt different. The market vendors moved with their eyes low. A woman near the road pulled her children close the moment a British soldier walked past. The laughter of the crowd had something underneath it. Relief, maybe. As if her return meant something beyond joy.

As if they needed her to fix something.

The British soldiers standing near the road watched the carriage pass.

One leaned toward the other and said in English, low and casual. "So this is the princess. Never saw her before. She is quite popular here."

The second one nodded slowly. "If we get the princess on our side, we can get rid of the king! easily!"

A third one smiled. "And what if she is beautiful? We could just take her too. How about that?"

They laughed quietly among themselves.

Nobody noticed. Nobody understood.

Aadhira kept her face perfectly still and her eyes forward.

(They think no one here speaks English. Let them keep thinking that.)

cold

The carriage rolled through the palace gates.

The palace gates opened wide and the courtyard filled with the sound of welcome.

Maids lined both sides of the entrance, hands folded, faces bright. Attendants bowed. The head maid stepped forward with tears she was barely holding back.

"Princess. You have finally come home."

Aadhira smiled at her warmly. "I missed you all."

Inside, at the far end of the grand hallway, her brother was already walking toward her.

Rayan. Twenty six now, broader in the shoulders than she remembered, a faint shadow of tiredness around his eyes that had not been there before. But his smile when he saw her was the same smile it had always been.

He stopped in front of her and looked at her face for a long moment.

"You are thinner," he said.

"You have gray hair," she said back.

Rayan laughed. Behind him Meera appeared, rounder now, glowing with the late stage of her pregnancy, and Aadhira went to her carefully and took both her hands.

"Sister in law!" Aadhira looked at her with soft eyes. "You look beautiful."

Meera squeezed her hands. "You look exhausted. Come we should eat first. Talk later."

The dining room smelled of everything Aadhira had been missing for three years.

The maids had arranged every dish she loved, placed with careful attention, each one exactly as she remembered. She looked at the table and felt something pull behind her eyes that she refused to let become tears.

(They remembered. They all remembered.)

grateful

She sat down and looked across at Meera. "Sister in law, how has your health been?"

Meera smiled warmly. "Hmm, Pretty good, actually. Thanks to your brother. He has been taking very good care of me." She laughed softly. "But tell me. How were your studies abroad?"

Aadhira hesitated for just a moment. "Uh... It was fine."

"Fine?" Rayan looked up from his plate with a frown. "Do you even know what has been happening here? I feel exhausted. Like I lost something but I do not even know what it is."

Sigh.

The table went quiet.

Aadhira noticed the shift immediately. The heaviness sitting on her brother's shoulders. The way Meera's smile stayed gentle but her eyes said something else entirely.

She forced a bright smile and leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Meera carefully.

"Sister in law! Tell me. Am I going to be an aunt soon?"

Meera laughed, surprised out of the tension. "Yes."

"Really?!"

(A girl. Please let it be a girl.)

excited

Aadhira placed a finger on her chin and pretended to think very hard. "Hmm. Let me guess. Is it a boy or a girl? Tsk. I think... a girl? No wait. A boy? Hmm."

She grinned. "I would be happiest if it is a girl. I want a cute little girl to play with every single day. I will show her everything in this world. I will teach her how to fight, I will teach her English, I will teach her our language, everything. I will never leave her side!"

Meera burst out laughing. Rayan shook his head with a faint smile.

"You really are something else," he said.

Then he sat back, and the smile faded.

"I would kill every boy who ever dared to come near my daughter." He said it lightly but his eyes were serious. Then the lightness disappeared entirely.

"I have something important to talk to you about."

Aadhira looked at his face. Sad. Troubled. Like a man carrying something he had been carrying alone for too long.

"Alright," she said quietly.

After lunch, the two of them walked together to the secret room at the back of the east wing. The room no one else was permitted to enter. Not the ministers. Not the attendants.

Not even Meera {The Queen}.

The door closed behind them with a soft click.

Rayan stood in the middle of the room for a moment with his back to her. Then he turned around and exhaled slowly.

"Do you know what happened these past two years?" His voice was low. "I signed a contract. Our people were insisting on it. They said it was necessary. They said it would be good for us."

Pause.

"But now I feel like I lost something. I do not even know how to explain it. I just feel like the people are not as happy as before."

Aadhira stepped closer. "What happened, brother. Tell me everything."

He picked up a document from the table and held it out to her. "Look at this. I signed it without understanding it."

Bitter laugh.

"You know how it is here. Almost no one reads English. I could not trust anyone to translate it honestly. But the people were asking me. They believed those men. So I believed them too."

Aadhira took the document.

She read.

Her eyes moved across the page and with every line the cold in her chest grew heavier.

"Brother." Her voice came out sharper than she intended. "How did you sign this without knowing what it said?"

(This is worse than I imagined. So much worse.)

angry, trying to stay calm

Rayan looked away. "They said they would not harm us. Just business. That is all I understood from them."

Aadhira pressed her hand to her forehead. "You really are clueless, brother. Tsk."

She looked up at him. "This contract says that if this kingdom refuses to serve the English, they have the right to take over Varenhal entirely. And right now they already have approximately 47,000 of our own soldiers brought to their side."

Rayan stared at her. "What!?"

(That cannot be real. That number cannot be real.)

shock

"It is written right here." Aadhira kept her voice steady even though her hands wanted to shake. "And there is more. If you attempt to resist them or oppose them in any way, this contract removes your right to do so. You signed away that right, Rayan. Two years ago."

Silence.

The kind of silence that fills a room completely.

Rayan sat down slowly. He looked like a man who had just watched the ground disappear beneath his feet.

"Then what do I do?" he asked. Quiet. Helpless.

Aadhira was quiet for a moment.

She was not going to cry. She refused to cry right now.

(Not yet. Not in front of him. He needs to see that someone still has steady hands.)

holding it together

"Right now you cannot push them away," she said. "The people trust them. If you move against them openly, you will lose your own kingdom's support before you lose theirs." She straightened. "But I will go to the villages tomorrow. I will see with my own eyes what they are actually doing out there. What they are telling people. What they are taking."

She met her brother's eyes.

"I will handle this. You do not have to worry. Okay?"

Rayan looked at her for a long moment. His little sister. Steadier than him right now, and they both knew it.

He nodded slowly.

The door stayed closed around them.

Outside, Varenhal carried on as it always had, warm and alive and unaware.

The storm had already begun.

.

.

.

End of Episode 1

The next morning Aadhira stood at the palace gates, fully dressed and ready to leave.

Rayan crossed his arms watching her. "Do you want me to send some soldiers with you?"

She turned and raised a brow. "We only have three thousand soldiers left. What exactly are they going to do?"

Tsk.

"Leave this mess to me, brother. And don't forget." She stepped closer. "I am a princess. I can protect myself."

Pause.

"I am also much stronger than you."

Rayan put his hand on his forehead and sighed.

(Why is she like this.)

exasperated

"Go then. Just be careful and do not create more trouble out there."

She grinned. "Sure. And tell sister in law I will bring her the fruits she loves."

He did not reply.

He just watched her leave.

The carriage rolled through the roads toward the villages.

From a distance everything looked peaceful. Nobles laughing among themselves. Market stalls full of goods. Children running between the roads.

But the closer she looked the uglier it became.

Commoners stood with their heads down as soldiers collected money from them. Hand after hand. Coin after coin. No argument allowed.

Aadhira's eyes narrowed.

(The contract said no taxes. So what exactly is this?)

cold

Her grip tightened on the edge of the carriage window.

This is nothing but a scam.

Then a voice broke through everything else.

"Please! Please, let my daughter go! I will pay next time, I promise! Please, I have nothing right now!"

The carriage stopped.

Aadhira stepped down.

In front of her an old woman was clutching the sleeve of a soldier with both hands, crying, while he pushed her away like she was nothing. Two other soldiers stood watching with bored expressions.

"What are you doing."

Her voice came out sharp and clear.

The soldiers paused and turned. One of them squinted.

"Is that... the princess?"

Immediately all three straightened and saluted.

"What are you doing," Aadhira repeated, her tone colder this time. "Why are you taking money from these people."

"It is just tax, Your Highness," one replied carefully. "We provide them work. It is only fair that they give something back."

She looked down at the old woman. "Is that true?"

The woman collapsed to her knees.

(Crying)

"My princess. My dear princess. I do not know anything about tax." Her voice shook badly. "A few days ago my daughter went to work for them. They promised her money. But instead of giving her money they tried to touch her without permission."

Her shoulders trembled.

"My daughter ran away. She even hit one of them. And now they are demanding money from me because of that. I have nothing left, princess. Nothing."

The camp went completely silent.

Aadhira opened her bag and placed three gold coins into the old woman's hands.

The soldiers' eyes moved immediately to the coins.

(Greed)

One of them smiled slowly. "Well. Your Highness must be quite rich to give away money so easily like that."

A few of them laughed.

Aadhira looked at them. Her expression did not change even slightly.

"Take me to your commander."

The soldiers looked at each other.

(Uncertain)

She outranked them and they knew it. They could not say no.

"Yes, Your Highness."

The camp was organized. Neat rows of tents, soldiers moving with purpose, weapons stacked in clean lines. She followed the soldiers through the center of it until they stopped in front of a man standing with his back to her, speaking to two officers beside him.

Then he turned.

Aadhira stopped walking for exactly one second.

Tall. Composed. Light eyed and sharp jawed, with the kind of face that looked like it had never once been uncertain about anything. Not handsome in a soft way. Handsome in an irritating way. The way a thing is beautiful and dangerous at the same time.

(Wait.)

stunned

(No. Focus.)

pulling herself together

She walked toward him directly.

"Where are you from?" she asked in the kingdom's language.

He looked at her. He did not understand a word of it.

"Hello, miss," he said instead, studying her dress carefully.

(She must be a noble.)

observing

"I am General Edmund Calloway. Commander of this unit." He said it evenly, with the practiced calm of someone used to being in charge.

A soldier beside him leaned in quickly and whispered something in his ear.

His expression shifted.

He inclined his head. "Your Highness. Forgive me. What brings you here?"

"Your soldiers," Aadhira said simply, "are mistreating my people. They are taking money from commoners who have nothing to give."

Edmund's expression darkened immediately.

He turned to the three soldiers behind her. His voice dropped to something very quiet and very serious.

"Were you taking money from them." It was not a question. "Did I not give a clear order. We do not take from those who cannot afford it. Did I not say that."

The soldiers stiffened.

(Fear)

"We are sorry, sir."

They said it in English.

Aadhira stood to the side and watched quietly.

And smiled just slightly where no one could see it.

(So he is not completely rotten then.)

thinking

(Interesting.)

Then she turned back to him and stepped forward.

Bold. Completely direct.

"Do you have a lover?"

The entire camp froze.

Dead silence.

Then all at once the murmuring started.

"Is the princess serious right now?"

"Did she just..."

"It should have been me, not the general."

"The general will never accept something like this."

Edmund blinked once. His composure held but just barely.

"Excuse me, Your Highness?"

confused

"Could you say that again?"

Aadhira met his eyes without even blinking. "I asked if you have a lover. Or a wife."

A pause.

"No," he said. "I do not."

careful

She smiled.

Then clapped her hands together twice lightly.

"Good."

pleased

"Then how about becoming my lover? I will give you everything you want."

Silence again. A different kind this time.

Edmund looked at her for a long moment. Steady. Unreadable. Like he was trying to figure out if she was serious or testing him or both.

Then he spoke. Calm. Quiet.

"Your Highness."

Pause.

"You may not understand this. But money cannot buy love."

He held her gaze.

"And it certainly cannot create it."

The smile on Aadhira's face did not disappear.

But something behind her eyes shifted.

(So that is the kind of man you are.)

quietly surprised

The wind moved through the camp.

Neither of them looked away first.

.

.

End of Episode 2