Chapter-6 : A Royal Farewell

Chapter-6 : A Royal -Farewell

As night descended, Queen Prabhavati and King Rudramadev Ariya summoned Rajkumari Sanyogita to their private chamber. Soft candlelight danced across the room, casting shadows on the intricately carved stone walls.

Sanyogita entered, her adoring smile radiant. But as she received the letter and unfolded the cloth, her expression transformed. Her eyes widened, and her breath caught.

The parchment, yellowed with age, crackled as she unsealed it. Inked words, written in elegant calligraphy, revealed secrets long hidden.

Sanyogita's gaze scanned the letter, her heart racing. The room seemed to fade, leaving only the words that shattered her understanding of her past.

"Maharaj Sussanandan, my father?" she whispered, incredulity etched on her face.

Memories flooded her mind: childhood days at Vasundhara Maa Ashram, her maternal uncle's evasive answers about her familyRajpurohit's caution, her uncle had said, forbade her from meeting her own family until she was mature enough.

Now, the truth unfolded before her. A long, royal exile, hidden beneath lies and silence.

Queen Prabhavati's gentle touch on her shoulder brought Sanyogita back to the present. "We've kept this secret to protect you, child," Prabhavati explained, her voice soft as silk.

King Rudramadev Ariya's eyes, filled with empathy, locked onto Sanyogita. "Your fate is intertwined with our kingdom's. We must consider the consequences of revealing your true identity."

Sanyogita's mind reeled, weighing the burden of her newfound knowledge.

Her gaze drifted, lost in thought. The chamber's soft murmur – the crackling candles, the distant hooting of owls – receded into the background.

Queen Prabhavati guided Sanyogita to a nearby divan, its plush cushions enveloping her. "We've protected you, child, but now it's time you know the truth."

King Rudramadev Ariya's voice, laced with concern, added depth to Prabhavati's words. "Maharaj Sussanand's actions, though well-intentioned, placed you in harm's way. We've kept you safe, but your destiny beckons."

Sanyogita's eyes refocused, determination etched on her face. "I must know everything," she said, her voice steady.

Prabhavati nodded. "Your father, Maharaj Sussanandan, believed your birth would bring calamity to his kingdom Rajpurohit's prophecy—"

"Prophecy?" Sanyogita's curiosity piqued.

King Rudramadev Ariya leaned forward, his voice taking on a serious tone. "The Rajpurohit foresaw your arrival would reshape their kingdom's fate. Some interpreted it as a warning, others as a promise."

Sanyogita's mind whirled, processing the revelations.

King Rudramadev Ariya and Queen Prabhavati's words unveiled the truth, shattering Sanyogita's world. Tears streamed down her face, her heart heavy as lead.

The chamber's soft candlelight seemed to fade, replaced by the darkness of her own thoughts. Sanyogita's anger and sorrow entwined like the intricate patterns on the palace walls.

"Why did I have to be born?" she lamented, her voice barely audible.

Prabhavati's gentle touch enveloped Sanyogita’s hands, her warmth radiating through the chilled skin of her daughter, a soothing balm against the biting cold of the palace.

The queen wrapped her arms around Sanyogita in a comforting embrace, holding her close. “You are not to blame, Rajkumari,” she whispered softly, her voice imbued with an unwavering warmth.

“Your birth has brought us prosperity, and having you here is truly a blessing. I feel incredibly fortunate to be the mother of a daughter as remarkable as you.”

Despite her mother's tender words, Sanyogita’s heartfelt impossibly heavy. She returned the embrace, not fully able to find solace in her mother’s reassurances.

“Maa,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion, “my own family has given up on me, viewing me as a cursed child. It feels as if I am a burden to them.” The admission hung in the air, painful and raw, stinging her like a razor cut, each word laced with the bitterness of rejection.

Prabhavati’s breath caught in her throat, as if a part of her heart had been wrenched away. “No, my dear Rajkumari,” she countered earnestly, leaning back to look into Sanyogita’s eyes. “You must understand, you are always admired in our kingdom. Everyone looks up to you, longing to emulate the grace and strength you possess. They are in awe of your remarkable transformation – it inspires them all. You are not just any princess, my dear; you are a warrior. In an era where it was imaginary for a few girls to master the skills you’ve acquired, you stand out as an exceptional symbol of strength and resilience.”

Her words hung between them, a lifeline amidst the whirlwind of Sanyogita’s doubts, offering a glimpse of the esteem in which she was truly held, even if it felt so distant in moments of despair.

King Rudramadev Ariya's expression grew grave, his brow furrowing as he met Rajkumari Sanyogita's gaze. "The tale spun by the Rajpurohit was nothing more than a fabrication, woven to shield you from the harsh reality," he said, his voice tinged with concern.

The weight of this revelation struck Sanyogita like a thunderclap, her heart sinking for a moment. But then, a fire ignited within her, and her eyes blazed with fierce determination.

"I vow to prove my worth beyond doubt," she proclaimed, her voice unwavering and strong. "As the rightful daughter of Maharaj Sussanandan, I will demonstrate to him and the entire royal family of Madhavgarh that I am far more than merely a child marked by misfortune. I will rise to surpass even the most skilled and esteemed royal princes."

At her words, Prabhavati, her mother, felt a swell of pride and rushed through her, her own eyes glistening with affection. "You are a remarkably strong Princess, my child."

Prabhavati's eyes shone with affection. "Your resilience will light the way for you, guiding you toward greatness," she encouraged, her voice filled with warmth.

In that moment, the shadows lurking in the chamber began to recede, replaced by a vibrant new sense of purpose that enveloped Sanyogita. Her heart, once shattered and aching, now pulsed with a fierce resolve, fueling her determination to carve her own destiny in a world that had often tried to define her by her past.

Sanyogita's determination was tempered by a promise, etched in her heart like the intricate patterns on the palace walls. She had vowed to her maternal uncle and aunt, who loved her unconditionally, that she would return to them soon.

"I must keep my word," Sanyogita said, her voice laced with conviction.

Prabhavati's gentle nod acknowledged Sanyogita's loyalty. "Your bond with them is strong, child."

Rudramadev's gaze turned inward, his thoughts shrouded in concern. Secrets lurked in the shadows, hidden even from Sanyogita. The truth about Mayamibhumi, Sanyogita's connection to it, and the mysterious power she possessed – all remained concealed.

Only he knew of his niece exceptional talents, honed in secrecy. But Madhavgarh's treacherous landscape posed risks. If anyone discovered her true nature, Sanyogita's life would be forfeit.

Rudramadev's skin prickled with goosebumps, a visceral response to the chilling realisation that washed over him. His mind raced frantically, grappling with the dire consequences awaiting them. Before Sanyogita could confront the myriad dangers lurking in Madhavgarh, she needed to unravel the intricate mystery of her own hidden power. It was an enigma she had yet to fully comprehend, and for her to succeed, she required her complementary power—the elusive missing piece that would complete the puzzle of her potential.

"Unless..." Rudramadev's thought hung in the air like a fog, unfinished and heavy with implications. The uncertainty gnawed at him, the possibilities both exhilarating and terrifying.

The atmosphere grew dense, each breath weighed down by unspoken fears and the gravity of their situation. Prabhavati, attuned to the tension, locked her gaze onto Rudramadev’s. In that moment, their eyes conveyed a silent understanding, an unbreakable bond forged in shared concern and desperation.

Sanyogita's fate teetered precariously on the edge of a knife, suspended between the dual forces of destiny and danger. Each moment that passed felt like an eternity, the stakes escalating with the knowledge that their actions could determine not only her future but the fate of all those she held dear.

************

One week passed, and the day of Sanyogita's departure arrived. Princess Priyamvada had already left for Vasundhara Maa Ashram, leaving a subtle void.

Maharaj Rudramadev Ariya yearned to escort Sanyogita himself, but King Sussanandan's entourage arrived, led by his trusted nobleman and flanked by capable soldiers and Senapati.

Mahendra exhaled, relief washing over him as Sanyogita's departure lifted a weighty burden. No longer would he be measured against her, his skills constantly compared to hers.

In the Royal Courtroom, whispered taunts had stung: "Mahendra's archery skills pale beside Sanyogita's precision." "The princess surpasses the prince in swordsmanship." The mocking words, carried on the whispers of courtiers, reached his ears, fueling his resentment.

Mahendra's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. Why did his parents favour this outsider, treating her as if she were their own? He couldn't grasp why Sanyogita refused to conform to traditional feminine norms, instead pursuing warrior skills with reckless abandon.

Yet, a nagging voice within Mahendra acknowledged the truth: he was jealous. Sanyogita's exceptional archery, swordsmanship, and political acumen intimidated him. Her sharp mind and strategic thinking made her a formidable contender for the throne.

As he paced the palace corridors, his footsteps resonated through the cavernous halls, echoing off the cold stone walls. The portraits of past rulers, their faces stern and unyielding, seemed to observe him from the shadows. Their eyes, painted with an air of wisdom, judged him, their silent scrutiny fueling his inner turmoil.

Mahendra's thoughts swirled, a maelstrom of emotions: anger, frustration, and beneath it all, a glimmer of admiration for Sanyogita's unyielding spirit. His chest heaved, as if the weight of his feelings threatened to consume him.

Rudramadev Ariya and Queen Prabhavati ensured Sanyogita's security was ironclad. The palace buzzed with activity as maids scurried to pack Sanyogita's essentials.

Maanvi, with a mischievous grin, teased the Queen. "Your Majesty, no one can pack what Princess Sanyogita loves most – Uncle Rudramadev's affection, your love, and the admiration of every person in Kingdom Arya Nagar."

Prabhavati's eyes sparkled with warmth. "You're right, Maanvi. Those are treasures no trunk can hold."

As Sanyogita prepared to bid farewell, the palace's opulent halls seemed to whisper memories of laughter and tears. The scent of sandalwood and rose petals lingered, a poignant reminder of her time in Aryanagar.

Prabhavati's gentle touch smoothed Sanyogita's hair. "May the gods guide and protect you, our beloved daughter."

Rudramadev Ariya's strong, weathered hands enveloped Sanyogita's shoulders, radiating warmth and reassurance. His eyes, like ancient wisdom-filled wells, locked onto hers. "You will always carry our love with you, child." His voice resonates deep within her soul.

He paused, his expression transforming into a firm, proud mask. "Tell Maharaj Sussanandan," he declared, his tone steady and authoritative, "the innocent princess who once he saw before him has emerged as a fearless warrior."

"Maharaj Sussanandan se kahiye ga, pehle jo Aya tha wo sirf ek masum Rajkumari thi. Aab Jo unke samne khada hoga woh ek yodha hai."

Sanyogita's skin prickled with goosebumps as Rudramadev's words ignited a fire within her. Her eyes sparkled like polished gemstones, reflecting the depth of her uncle's conviction. "Yes, Your Majesty," she whispered back, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.

The air seemed to vibrate with unspoken understanding, as if the very palace walls witnessed the transformation of a timid princess into a brave warrior.

The departure ceremony unfolded with solemn grandeur. Sanyogita's heart swelled with emotion as she embraced her adopted family.

Maanvi, Sanyogita's loyal companion, protector, and confidante, accompanied her on the journey. Their bond transcended friendship; Maanvi was her partner in laughter and late-night whispers.

As they departed, Sanyogita proudly rode her new horse, gifted by Uncle Rudramadev Ariya. Its coat glistened in the sunlight, the mane flowing like silk.

"Maanvi, come and join me in the palanquin," Sanyogita urged, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as the sunlight danced through the canopy above them.

Maanvi paused for a moment, caught in the warmth of her friend’s invitation, then smiled widely as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and settled gracefully beside Sanyogita. The palanquin, draped in rich silks and adorned with intricate embroidery, embraced them with its soft cushions, creating a welcoming retreat from the world outside. The gentle sway of the palanquin felt like a soothing lullaby, the rhythmic motion relaxing their spirits.

As they glided through the lush landscape, a tapestry of sights unfolded before them. Majestic rivers snaked through the valleys, their sparkling waters catching the light like shards of glass. Ancient trees stood tall and proud, their gnarled branches stretching wide, offering a protective canopy overhead. Vibrant villages dotted the horizon, with colourful homes painted in hues of blue, yellow, and red, their thatched roofs crowned with bright flowers.

Sanyogita and Maanvi exchanged excited whispers, sharing their thoughts and impressions as they marvelled at the beauty around them, each scene igniting a spark of wonder in their hearts. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the distant sounds of laughter and song from the villages they passed, each moment enriching their journey together.

Despite the nobleman of Madhavgarh and Senapati's attempts to discourage them, the two beautiful girls come down from the Palanquin with a sense of adventure. Sanyogita, one of the princesses, paid little heed to their warnings. She recalled the strict customs of Madhavgarh, which dictated that royal princesses should never linger outside for prolonged periods. However, rather than feeling constrained by these rules, Sanyogita viewed the situation as a thrilling challenge, and with a surge of determination, she resolved to break her first rule of Madhavgarh with a sense of glee.

To shake off the heaviness that came from sitting in one position for too long, the girls decided to mount their horses for a ride. As they took off, the cool, brisk wind swept through their hair, invigorating their spirits. Sanyogita’s horse leapt into a gallop, its powerful legs propelling them forward with a graceful stride.

Maanvi laughed, her voice carrying on the breeze. "Your uncle's gift is magnificent!"

Sanyogita grinned, her eyes shining. "Isn't he?"

The stallion’s mane billowed behind like a silken banner, while Sanyogita laughed joyfully, feeling the freedom of the open space around her. The vibrant atmosphere was charged with excitement as they raced across the landscape, leaving their worries far behind.

The sun casts a warm glow, casting long shadows across the terrain. Nature's symphony accompanied them: birdsong, rustling leaves, and the gentle clip-clop of hooves.

As dusk approached, they returned to the palanquin, its curtains fluttering in the evening breeze. Stars began to twinkle, a celestial map guiding them toward Madhavgarh.

*************

As Sanyogita and Maanvi ventured toward the formidable fortress of Madhavgarh, the landscape darkened, like a canvas painted with ominous hues. The air thickened with foreboding, heavy with the scent of smoke and sweat.

Suddenly, a towering figure emerged, his presence commanding attention. His broad shoulders and chiselled physique seemed chiselled from granite, radiating an aura of unyielding power. His piercing gaze, like two sharp spearheads, struck fear into the hearts of the innocent villagers.

The sound of his booming laughter echoed through the valleys, a cruel cadence that sent shivers down the spines of the cowering villagers. His men, emboldened by his presence, revelled in terrorising the helpless.

Young girls cowered, their tear-stained faces reflecting their anguish. Married women, once proud and strong, now trembled with humiliation, their pleas for mercy lost in the wind. The cries for help dissolved into despairing whispers, drowned out by the oppressive atmosphere he created.

Villagers scurried, fleeing from the scene, their footsteps echoing through the desolate landscape. The earth itself seemed to tremble beneath their feet, as if the land itself feared the tyrant's wrath.