akdha ff - the desert's rose - Page 13

somewhere between the sacred silence and sleep (🏜️🌹)

opening note: the title was inspired by a lyric in the song "toxicity" by System of a Down"

It seemed today was one of those days for Jodha, her neck and back sore from hours of being carried on the palki.

Letting out an exhale of relief, her hand came to rub off the ache after her necklace was taken down. From the events of this day, she could already feel her eyes getting droopy with sleep - a side effect of being awake for such long hours.

As much as she did not wish to talk or think about him right now, it was a good call he made when he chose to make a stop here.

It was a shame that, after the recent events of this evening, they'd be sharing a tent as against heaving separate tents.

Just my luck, Kanha, thank you very much, she found herself letting out the most aggravated sigh.

Despite her attempt to bridge their relationship, his choice to keep her in isolation to have her "reflect on her actions" took them back to square one. It seemed that he would always show her his cruel side for every little misstep she made.

Coupled with that was the accusatory voice which had followed her into this tent - the source of why she'd be bunking with that jallad.

If not for his being ever-observant, the intruder - Ram - would have made his way into their camp to attack either of them.

"Main hoon Ram of Amer," the man had given them a venomous look but especially her. It accused her of treachery; his eyes actively blamed her. "You've insulted our homeland; your very being has blemished the pristine image of the Rajputs."

Jalal had caught on to the fact that Ram was specifically directing his rage towards her which in turn incensed him as he kicked the man down to the ground.

Flinching at the sight, Jodha could not help but feel that pang of guilt even as Bhapusa's words from that letter came ringing in her head again.

"I ask that this war not be the reason why you and Jamai Sa drift apart," they had read, yet, how could she easily follow his advice when Ram, a fellow Ameri, had an accusatory finger pointed at her?

She watched as Jalal pressed his foot on Ram's chest, his voice low and deadly, "One more word against my queen and not only would I rip your tongue out of your mouth but this night would be the last night you'd have your sight."

Ram jeered, looking up at him as he taunted, "Go ahead, do it."

Jodha noticed when the man, whom she called her pati, was precisely about to deliver on his threat. Was he really going to do that? Right here while they were on a pilgrimage? But then, he would have executed a pregnant Fareeda along with her unborn child had Ammi Jaan not interfered, would pilgrimage stop him in his tracks?

So, she stepped forward to stop him, his face creased into a frown as a glare stared back at her. She could feel the bite of the coldness his look carried yet she stood her ground as she faced him. "Please forgive him, Shehenshah. Don't do this, not while we are on pilgrimage. Not while we are about to offer prayers."

"He insulted a Mughal queen," he countered, his voice low as if he was fighting the urge to give her a cold burn from the intensity of his rage. "By my rules, he should be punished."

"By his rules?" Her inside voice scoffed. Who did he think she was? An extension of him?

"Being the Mughal queen he insulted, I get to decide how he is punished, don't I?" She retorted and she noted the moment when his expression evolved from rage to pure fury at her defiance.

"Take him away," he said to the soldiers without looking away from her. Without any hesitation, Ram was swiftly dragged off to who knows where and with a second command, one of privacy, from the jallad before her, it was just the two of them. "What is it you really want to say, Jodha Begum?"

She wasted no time in delivering with the most brutal of her honesty, the words she had buried deep in her attempt to offer an olive branch to him until he did what he did to her.

"He said no lies, hurtful as they might have been," her voice was as low as it needed to be but still held the rage she had managed to hide. "Since the day Bhapusa fixed my rishta, Rajputana bore a grudge against Amer. Your decision to involve them in your war against Sujanpur shattered any chance we had at redeeming ourselves. Because I am married to you, Amer's reputation carries this stigma that will be hard to wash off in the foreseeable future."

It was noticeable how he stiffened, she'd not be surprised if he clenched his fists while at it. With a final look from her daring him to say anything to counter her words, she turned away from him.

And here she was, awaiting his entrance into this khema even despite her desires to not be within reachable distance. But then, since when have the gods or Fate ever granted her the desires of her heart?

It was only a matter of time before she would pick up the sounds of his footsteps as he made his way into her tent. With a strengthened resolve and wordlessly, she was up on her feet as she pulled down the pardah.

She could almost see him an eyebrow raised in incredulity at her actions as if he thought she'd let him anywhere close to her.

Cautiously, as she got ready to rest her head, she watched him through the veil as he sat on the nearest divan and did the strangest thing ever - twirling his shamsheer.

Her eyes narrowed at him, what could he be planning under the guise of protecting her? She did not have to stare at him for long as his gaze met hers.

"I thought you'd be asleep by now."

Gods, how could she miss the teasing undertone as he stopped twirling that sword? The audacity of this- Why do I put up with him, Gauri Maa? She turned away from him.

"How am I expected to sleep with a stranger around?" She simply bit back.

Instead of getting offended like she would have expected, he raised an eyebrow at her before setting his sword aside and reclining on the divan.

"Have it your way, then. You keep vigil while I go to sleep," he said, shutting his eyes and lying silently still as if he was instantly out.

The hell?! Who did he think he was? Unbelievable! She fumed, glaring daggers at where he laid his head until a brief moment of him turning to stare at her again showed he was still awake. She turned her head away, blinking.

Was he here to protect her like he claimed or he was here to suffocate her with his presence so she'd have a sleepless night while he got to sleep well?

Letting out an exasperated sigh, she sunk into the bed with her eyes shut as she willed herself to sleep. She'd be damned if she let his presence affect her sleep cycle.

There were nights when sleep eluded him, this was one of them despite the stillness around them.

He was aware, very much aware of the fact that Jodha despised his presence within her space. She had even walked up to him while the camp was being set up with the insistence that a separate tent be made for her. Yet, with the incident of Ram sneaking into their camp, that option was no longer viable as he made his way into her camp upon Atgah Sahab's advice that he stay the night with her.

It was ironic, wasn't it? A delicious twist of fate that would bring him into her space and who was he to not do one of the things he did most - assert his presence.

Yet, why did guilt form another predominant and unwelcomed companion of his as of lately...again? This would make about what - the third instance where that feeling would show up.

The way her face fixed into a hardened expression as she maintained eye contact, internalizing Ram's words, had him brought down to his knees before her for the first time.

His sight veered off to the direction of the bed on which she lay, observing as she was asleep. About time she did. If she chose to keep awake, she might as well have punished him at this point as sleep would also elude him.

Such was the curse of being a man where even the slightest of sounds was enough to spring him back to consciousness.

He shut his eyes again but as always, sleep was a distant relative as his mind raced with the current theme of emotion for the night being the guilt that followed him into the tent.

He could pretend to himself that he had managed to make himself immune to her venom, that her fiery glares did not faze him anymore but even Khuda knew he was nowhere close to being immune or unfazed.

"Because I am married to you, Amer's reputation carries this stigma that will be hard to wash off in the foreseeable future."

Those words...spoken so softly, yet he could feel the long buried emotions with the guarded expression on her face. He almost chuckled at this, as a few days ago, he had believed that they were finally gaining some common ground...well, until the Angoori Bagh, because, of course, something had to shatter that understanding they were starting to build.

What if he had given her the space to explain herself instead of shutting her out and keeping her in that room? Did he ever stop to consider that? But because of his loyalty to Badi Ammi clouding his judgement, he had hurt her with his words and actions

He suppressed the urge to groan as he had his hand pushing his hair back. Anything to fall asleep, right? He was not used to feeling this vulnerable after all and he needed anything to make him surrender to Morpheus' gift.

It worked...for a few minutes at least until he heard it.

It was faint like someone was trying too well to not wake him up. Instinctively, he reached out for his shamsheer, his eyes wide open as his gaze darted to the direction of Jodha Begum's bed. She was not there.

He was up on his feet, his shamsheer unsheathed, as he moved in the direction of where that sound came from. He found a figure close by and without thinking, held it up to their neck.

A slight turn from the figure revealed Jodha Begum who stared at him in a blend of confusion and indignation. He looked down to find her holding a cup and he found himself letting out a sigh of relief as he made a quick work of sheathing his shamsheer.

"I heard footsteps," he explained himself despite the fact she did not seek any explanation from him.

Not dropping that glare, she held the copper cup to her chest. "They were from me," she replied in a clipped tone, taking the cup to her lips.

He should have felt some relief from that but instead was met with his pulse quickening even faster than it needed to. She said nothing else as she set the cup down on the end table and walked away not far from his gaze as she soon disappeared behind the pardah surrounding her bed.

A soft sigh left her as she reclined on the bed, drawing up her cover cloth and just like that, she was shut to the waking world.

Jalal could only return to the divan for not only did she occupy his mind these days, but she was also disrupting his sleep cycles as well. It would be a miracle if he managed to even sleep a wink this very night.

And there it was again, another sound and this time it was different as he opened his eyes again and just like previously, they were directed in the direction of her bed. That sound was so faint and distinct that every hair on his skin prickled in response.

He wasted no time again as he was up on his feet again, walking over to her bed. Shoving aside the pardah that hid her away from him, he was at her side even before his mind could even react.

There it is, he thought as he snatched up her dupatta, earning him a startled gasp from Jodha Begum who sat upright. Her eyes were wide open in shock and fury as she was quick to berate him.

"Have you no honour?!" Her chest heaved as she drew the cover, clutching her clothed upper body. "Despite being the "Shehenshah", you truly have no shame," she said through quick panicky gasps

With his eyes gleaming with dark amusement, Jalal said nothing as he took off the dupatta to reveal a snake before throwing the cloth back at her.

"Perhaps this serpent should be more mindful of entering your space so boldly."

The light green serpent with its scale glistening in the light hissed at him as he held on tightly to it. The air stood silent and he already knew she could see the venomous creature without even turning to meet her. He gave the snake a casual glance as he held it up.

"Even I do not have the right to touch her yet you...you dare slither up to her space," he said, his voice taking on a grim tone as he addressed the animal in his hand. "You should be thankful, however. Your venom is enough to kill a man but hers," he glanced back at her with a wry smile, observing the way her eyes widened as she kept on a composed facade. Her initial anger shifted to a subtle mixture of confusion and disbelief. "Hers would make you wish for death itself."

With a sardonic chuckle, he took the snake outside and at a safe distance, released it into the darkness. When he returned to the tent, he walked over to Jodha's bed, sliding the pardah shut and sealing the barrier between them.

"I have no intentions of touching or dishonouring you, Jodha Begum," he explained with a slight smirk. "I was merely saving the life of that poor snake. For who knows what fate it might have faced had it dared to bite you?"

The tent fell silent as he went up to a thali holding some lit lamps and repellent oils, placing them around the tent and her bed to deter such incident from repeating itself.

"Dhanyavaad," she murmured in a voice barely audible but still managed to carry through the stillness of the night. Her tone was reluctant, yet genuine

His lips curved into a faint smile as he walked back to the divan, "I am grateful to have saved that creature. Only Khuda knows what would have happened if I hadn't."

From the other side of the pardah, he could tell she was struggling to not burst into laughter because, of course, she would find some kind of humour in this. He smiled again, with the faintest of smiles, as he reclined on the divan to find some sleep. Despite how elusive it stayed for him at this moment, the thought of her hidden laughter was enough for him.

"Takhliya!" With a firm voice, she had dismissed the bandhis who had followed her into this hammam. All that remained was the gentle trickle of water and her eventual solitude.

This hammam stood as her place of solace with the ambience running in the background. Here was where Ruqaiya could shed all facades and confront her thoughts, including the ones she had unsuccessfully attempted to bury.

It was ironic, wasn't it? The place where she came to for solace provided everything but that.

Ruqaiya leaned back against the smooth cold marble and briefly shut her eyes, letting the silence wash over her. How did Maham's words always come back to haunt her? Ruqaiya, believing she'd get the opportunity to confront that woman for her hand in Jodha's isolation in that room, was now the one dealing with the Wazir-e-Aliya's words.

They gnawed at her, coiling around her mind and lingering like a bitter aftertaste despite Ruqaiya's attempts at taking in the scent of the perfumed steam.

"First, it starts with a game of shatranj, Begum Ruqaiya. Then, it is your harem before it is your position in the Mughal Sultanate. Who knows what next it would be? The envied Mariam-uz-Zamani title as well?"

She gritted her teeth as those words echoed in her mind, taunting her. She could tell herself that such a thing won't happen; that her position was secure and that nothing would come between her and Jalal, but recent events indicated otherwise.

One of them being Jalal's decision to accept Jodha as his travel companion which stunned her. "Who am I to question Allah's will, Ruqaiya Begum? If she is the one chosen to accompany me to the dargah, then, so be it." This was rich coming from the same man who believed he carved out his destiny with his sword. Conveniently, here he was yielding to fate.

This brought her to the next train of thoughts as inspired by Maham's bitter truth, of course. "For the first time, Begum Ruqaiya, Jalal returned to Agra with a new bride without any announcement of his shaadi, not even you were privy to his intentions to pick up a new wife."

She had been by Jalal's side through everything. She had watched him ascend to the position of Shehenshah-e-Hindustan, had even kept constant communication with him while he was away at war. Yet, how could she deny the validity of Maham's words?

Now, that she thought about it, had she been truly oblivious to his intentions of bringing in Begum Jodha? Had the signs been right there all along, but she had chosen to ignore them?

Her mind drifted back to the memory of when he had returned from Shalpur, she could vividly remember him being absentminded. How could she forget about the cryptic answers he gave her as she tried to coax him about what he had found in Amer?

"Amer has something I want."

More like Amer had someone he wanted, that someone being Begum Jodha. She had thought so little of it that time, but now, it all added up.

Even if she had managed to gain an inkling of why Amer had his interest specifically, how could she have predicted that he'd marry a Hindu Rajvanshi queen, allow her to retain her religious practices and go as far as building a mandir within the four walls of this harem?

Her breath hitched as her eyes fell upon a floating rose petal, soft and delicate in the dim light. She picked it up, feeling the soft and silky texture under her fingertips. Despite its delicate appearance, it stood as a strong symbol of Begum Jodha - the source of her current unease.

Ruqaiya's eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched with Maham's words returning and becoming more unrelenting than ever: "...it starts with a game of shatranj...who knows what is next? The envied Mariam-uz-Zamani title as well?"

It was merely a game, a trivial competition, she had told herself at that time when she lost to Jodha's patience and skill. Now, with the Rajput queen's increasing influence in the harem and her companionship with Jalal on the pilgrimage, it ceased to be "just a game" and evolved into something else - one of struggle over her possessions and the power due to her.

Ruqaiya lay back into the water, her gaze growing cold and calculating as she held up the petal in her hand. A determined smirk tugged on her lips as she looked down on the delicate rose petal.

So, what if Jodha was the one chosen by unforeseen forces? So be it, in that case. Let the Rajvanshi queen find her peace at the Dargah. Let her believe Jalal's favour and attention mean anything beyond a passing whim. Let her believe that her place beside him on this pilgrimage gave her a sliver of power.

But at the end of the day, she reminded herself, the only woman who truly held the strings to Jalal's mind was none other than Ruqaiya Sultan Begum and that made her the Malika-e-Khaas. Fleeting interests were nothing new to Jalal, Ruqaiya had been with him long enough to know that fact and it was something Jodha would find out for herself.

"Hell will have to freeze over, Begum Jodha," she murmured to herself, her words echoing in the solitude of the hammam. "Before I let you usurp my place within the Sultanate."

With a final glance at the petal, she crushed it between her fingers, watching with satisfaction as its softness yielded to her strength. Then, she released it into the water, watching as it sank slowly beneath the surface

closing notes: hey guys, I am back from my little break! I had to take that because I found myself getting a little burned out and a burned-out writer = less satisfactory content and I do not want to put my readers through all that.

as of the title of the chapter, yes, it is inspired by a line in "Toxicity" by System of a Down but also, according to the lead singer, this line draws allusion from the Native American belief on meditation. "somewhere between the sacred silence and sleep" is often referred to the subconscious mind/reflection and in this chapter, it kind of toes the line here.

additional notes: I didn't plan to add this note until taking a stroll down the forums and seeing Shyamala Aunty's posts, which by the way, put in words my thoughts and feeling on a lot of these episodes in the serial. if a lot of you have noticed, I have avoided the whole "nafrat" cliché in TDR because of how annoying it has become while watching the serial and I don't want Jodha to be embroiled in that.

in addition to that, TDR's Jodha does have her reason for reverting to her pre-"nafrat ya mohabbat" self as Jalal had shut her away from civilization (for a day btw) without giving her the chance to explain herself due to his bias for Maham. and as we've noted from Hamida's pov in the previous chapter, Jodha could have stayed longer in isolation in that room had Hamida and Co. not gone to that room in concordance with the saint's prophecy.

anyway, how are you guys finding the new graphics? I had to touch things up for a bit here. anyway, thanks again for reading, voting and commenting. I love the feedback and love TDR has been getting from y'all and till we see next time 😄💜

for what is sacred (🏜️🌹)

opening notes: a warning for a "slightly" unhinged Jalal in this chapter. that being said, let's get reading 😄

The sun had only begun to bathe the earth with its beams and one of the signs that clued Jodha to the fact that they were finally at their destination was the sudden lack of movement from the durbaans who carried her palki before setting it down on the ground.

A few seconds passed before a silhouette appeared before her holding out his hand for her. Taking it, she felt the warmth of his palm in hers as he led her out of the palki.

Her eyes took a while to adjust to the brightness before she could finally take in the sight that met her eyes. There stood the dargah, its vast marble structures shimmering under the sun and the air echoed with the sound of qawwalis rendering their devotion.

Jodha adjusted her dupatta as she momentarily allowed herself to marvel at the intricacies of the architecture - a testament to the devotion and artistry of its creators. She could not help but feel the sense of peace that accompanied the sight of the sacred environment she found herself in.

Wordlessly, she walked beside Jalal not just out of respect for the sanctity of their current setting but also from the unresolved tension between them. As they approached the entrance of the dargah, she noticed a small group of men seated at the entrance, their wares spread out on a mat—textiles of different materials, modest trinkets and handcrafted vases.

The closer they got, the more her curiosity was piqued as she greeted the men with a warm Pranaam and wasted no time in making inquiries.

"Adaab, Begum Sahiba," one of the men greeted with a slight bow of deference. He seemed to be fairly young, maybe about her age but his face was worn down and marred by apprehension, sorrow - perhaps a blend of both. Her face fell as she gently nodded for him to proceed. "We are from a nearby village. A few weeks ago, a flood had befallen us, leaving in its wake destruction. We ventured down here to raise funds to rebuild our homes."

Jodha's heart clenched as she looked past him to the other men, equally as worn down but with dignity as they came together to sell their goods, some of the utmost importance just to ensure their survival and that of their neighbours.

Without any second thought, her hand crept down to her wrist to slide off her golden chooriyan - one of what she brought down to Agra with her from Amer. If these were going to ensure these people got to rebuild their lives, then so be it. However...

"Jodha Begum," that deep commanding voice from behind her made her halt in her steps. She had almost forgotten his presence until now. "Step back."

Her eyes narrowed as she accorded him a sharp look of incredulity. Did he really think he could just order her to step back?

Her lips parted, about to argue with him but the unreadable expression on his face had those words dying in her throat.

There was no hesitation from him as he removed the necklaces adorning his neck, setting it aside on the table. His rings were next, glimmering in the sunlight as they joined his necklace as well.

What would have her eyes widening and send a wave of disbelief through her, however, was when he removed his pagri and it seemed Jodha was not the only one uncertain about this as the man before her protested.

"Shehenshah," a flicker of hesitation crossed his face as his gaze moved from Jalal to the pagri. "You don't have to... it will be unbecoming of the Hindustan ka Badshah to walk without his crown."

A slight smile lifted the corner of his lips as Jalal set down his pagri. "You would be right by your assertions," he looked down momentarily before staring up at the younger man. "But as the Shehenshah-e-Hindustan, it would also be unbefitting if I let my queen walk without her jewelry," his gaze flickered briefly to her before returning to the man. "And it would be equally unbefitting if my subjects' state of wellbeing remained neglected. This pagri," he gestured to it, "costs more than enough to feed a village."

The men seemed convinced as they eventually offered to tie a turban - a humble replacement for the decorated royal pagri Jalal had walked in with, which he accepted without any arguments.

The couple left the stalls after the men offered their blessings for the pilgrimage. Jodha's mind remained in disarray and dissatisfied that he had stopped her from offering her jewelry to the men's cause.

It would be unbefitting if I let my queen walk without her jewelry, he had given as a rationale for his actions.

"You could have let me offer my chooriyan at least," she broke through the silence, a frown on her face as she regarded him. "They would have sufficed as well"

He cast her a side glance as they made their way over to the entrance of the dargah.

"And let a Mughal queen walk in looking like a pauper?"

Her eyes narrowed and her tongue was swifter with a retort of hers, "Yet, the Shehenshah-e-Hindustan walks into a dargah without the symbols of his nobility. You are not the only one who walks in with a humble outlook, Shehenshah."

And what was with him suddenly referring to her as a "Mughal queen" after referring to her as his queen?

"I may part with my crown, Jodha Begum," they both paused in their tracks. "But if you think I'd let you part with yours..."

He left the rest of his words lingering in the air between them and unfinished as they made their entrance into the dargah.

It was no use arguing with him, Jodha reasoned, not when they were about to offer prayers and especially not when he chose to remain elusive with his intentions.

These days, she could only ponder where he operated from; from a genuine place or his sense of duty or his pride. It could be all three as well, her mind added as an option.

With each step they made into the dargah, the scent of incense thickened the atmosphere as the sounds of the qawwalis grew more distant. Having ascended several marble steps to the shrine, they finally came face-to-face with an elderly saint. The man was draped in a simple flowing white robe, with a white beard and eyes that spoke of mystical wisdom far deeper than what the common man could comprehend.

"Asalaam alaikum, Shehenshah, Begum Sahiba," he greeted in a voice reverent as he led them over to the sacred grave of Khwaja Moinuddin Chishti. "May the blessings of Gareeb Nawaz be upon you."

Jodha pressed her hands together, her head bowed respectfully as she took the blessings

"Wailakum salaam, Qutb Ibrahim Qadiri," Jalal replied, on the other hand. "It is an honour to have you receive us, for we have taken this journey on the advice of Pir Allah Rakha to offer our prayers."

He carried on with a comfort associated with a man who was familiar with such as this. She, on the other hand, had a layer of discomfort around here despite the facade she put on and the welcoming smile the elderly saint gave. She was an outsider - a Hindu queen in a sacred space unfamiliar to her.

Even as the saint complimented Jalal on his decision to come in without his pagri, the discomfort grew wider as she momentarily looked down at her gold chooriyan.

Silently, Qutb Ibrahim extended his hand, gesturing for them to move into the shrine's inner sanctum. Following Jalal, Jodha found her eyes straying over to him - even as they knelt in front of the shrine.

His posture was impeccable - way too perfect like he had done something like this numerous times and if going by history - he had. After all, it was from a trip as this her rishta with him had been fixed by Bhapusa.

She gave him a side glance as she followed his gestures, her hands held up just like his hands were. Her fingers twitched as the fear that she was doing something wrong poked at her and her eyes lingered on him.

His form, posture - everything - came as natural as breathing to him while she was out of her momentum with this. While offering prayers in her way was nothing new to her, here, she felt like a stranger.

"When one offers prayers to the Almighty, Jodha Begum, they do so with their head raised," he said so suddenly and so gently that she was almost startled and realized that her head had been down. "However, if you do not wish to pray, you do not need to."

"Still, I will pray, Shehenshah," she replied as she stared back at him. "People of different religions and creeds have made their way over to honour Gareeb Nawaz, a man whose reputation and legacy precedes him. His messages of peace and unity have reached far and wide. His legacy is worth my honour, so, I will render my prayers, Shehenshah."

The saint, who had noticed the quiet exchange, interjected with a soft smile, "Subanallah, Begum Sahiba, you have spoken well. Regardless of what our faith and paths may be, our prayer is what links us to the Divine."

She held a faint smile at the encouragement, nodding as she resumed the prayers in her own way.

It was a matter of minutes as the final echoes of their prayers faded. Upon opening her eyes, the sun seemed to have completely risen, casting a shadow through the latticework of the windows.

The couple stood before Qutb Ibrahim and under a canopy as the elderly saint's eyes lingered on the both of them. "Shehenshah Jalaluddin Mohammad," his gaze was on Jalal before veering over to her. "Begum Sahiba Jodha Bai, your very presence in this place is no accident. Khuda, through His divine will, has brought you two together for reasons He will reveal in His own timing."

Jodha stiffened, her hands gripping tightly on her ghagra at the enigmatic words of Qutb Ibrahim. Divine will. Where had she heard those words from again? Ah, yes, Shaguni Bai! As revealed to Maa Sa, except it was attributed to Fate, not Khuda. Now hearing those words again had her on the brink of shivering.

She suppressed the urge to display any signs of freezing as Qutb Ibrahim's focus shifted to her, his gaze softening as he regarded her as if he knew what burden had followed her here. "Begum Sahiba, you have made the journey to this place willingly and with an open mind which seeks answers to the questions you bear in your heart. Regardless of the separate path you might walk in, Khuda hears all those who call to Him."

Was she seeking answers? Or was she here to ask for the strength to bear the cross she had been thrust into carrying? It was one question she could not answer for herself, regardless, she found herself nodding along.

The saint then turned his attention to Jalal, "And Shehenshah, may you live long to see the results of your legacy. You may bear the burden of ruling an empire but Khuda has granted a companion - one who is as steadfast as she is fierce. For her strength will guide you in all that you do and her love will illuminate your pathway."

At that, Jodha swallowed as her hold on her ghagra tightened to the point she was sure her knuckles were pale. Love?! If not for the fact that he was a respected saint and his words were divine, she would have scoffed at the notion. The concept of love seemed so distant at this point in their relationship, it was almost laughable too.

"Nafrat aur mohabbat ka rang laal hota hai, Shehenshah." Those were words she had said days ago as she had hoped that she could at least bridge the chasm between them but now, it seemed that the only shade of red that would mark their relationship was nothing but the one that corresponded with conflict and strife. Still, she dared not turn to look at him as a part of her feared what she might find in his expression.

Still, Qutb Ibrahim was nowhere done with his words as he raised his hands in blessings, "May your love overflow like the waters of the Sindhu. May it continue to endure the test of time and, by the timing of Khuda, may this union also bear the fruit of an heir - one who will continue your legacy."

Jodha's breath caught in her throat as time suddenly came to a standstill for her. An heir? This time, she took the risk of glancing at Jalal who remained motionless. On his face was the most unreadable of expressions but with a flicker in his eyes - one she stood unable to decipher. This was another one of the times she wished she could catch a glimpse of his mind as he showed no visible signs of the saint's words affecting him.

As for her, heat rose to her cheeks and her heartbeat accelerated. Love, union, an heir. How is this possible when we are both-? What fruit could their "union" possibly bring when what stood before them was a wide chasm? How could their union bear fruit when it lacked the very foundations for it?

"Shukriya, Baba," Jalal's voice broke through the silence. Despite the reverence he granted the man, his tone gave away none of the emotion he could feel at this moment.

As though the man was aware of the tension simmering between them despite their outward composure, Qutb Ibrahim only smiled at them as he let them leave.

Their journey from the sanctum to the jhaali was steeped in silence even as she tied the taweez to the lattice board. She could not help the trembling of her fingers, even as she prayed for a sense of calmness to wash over her.

An heir...love that overflows like the Sindhu. What could it all mean?

"So, tell me," Jalal's voice came softly, breaking through her reverie as his presence beside her grew more unmissable. "What did you pray for?"

Peace of mind. Stability. Your well-being. She wanted to answer but instead glanced at him, blinking for a brief moment before returning to the task at hand.

"If I tell you, then my prayers might never be answered," she replied with a murmur instead. "After all, they say that a shared prayer loses its strength."

A chuckle escaped him, mingled with a smug tone. "Superstitions," he teased as she perceived him rubbing his chin from her peripheral view. "Yet, if you had asked me, I'd have told you mine."

She only snorted as her fingers left the taweez. Her attention was now on him, and she raised an eyebrow in question.

"Would you?" She asked, her tone dripping in light sarcasm. "Was it for more victories in battles? More territories to conquer, Shehenshah?"

He drew closer and it took every strength within her to stay rooted to her spot. He leaned slightly forward and his voice was low enough for her to hear him. "What if I told you I prayed that Khuda granted you every desire of your heart? Would you believe me?"

She paused—no, she froze—in her tracks as she slowly gazed up at him in search of a hint of jest, yet there was nothing to indicate this was anything but the truth. There was something about how he said it—soft, gentle, and sincere—that caught her off-guard.

"Every desire of my heart, you say?" She bit back, repeating his words as she slightly shifted her weight. "And if my heart's desires included my escape from this bond?"

There was a change that came in response to her question as a wide smile grew - slow and deliberate - on Jalal's face and a predatory glint flashed across his eyes. "I'm afraid it will only remain a dream at this point, Jodha Begum," he said in a deceptively gentle voice which had Jodha wish she had not poked the tiger at all.

Her instincts warned against further provoking him but it seemed her self-preservation mattered less as she pressed on. "Is that an underestimation of my will or an overconfidence in yours, Shehenshah?"

Jalal's gaze darkened as his teasing gave way to something way more intense that it had her heart pounding against her ribcage. "The only way you can truly be free, Jodha Begum, is you on that funeral pyre," he said in a low murmur that was enough to send shivers down her spine. "And even then," his grin widened with his tone almost sinister. "If I have to wrestle your gods and mine just to bring you back, main Khuda ki qasam khata hoon - I will."

The air was charged with tension as Jodha's breath caught in her throat. Was it a threat or a solemn vow? Or a blend of both? With him, everything was complicated and unpredictable.

"And if you die first?" She forced herself to ask again, a subtle challenge which he rose to as he recognized it for what it was.

His smirk was tempered but that predatory glint lingered. "If I die first, I'll haunt you. Your waking thoughts, your dreams, you cannot escape me. Not in this world, not in the next world. It is not a threat, it is my word and I intend to keep it. Not even Death will separate us, Jodha Begum."

For a moment, the best thing Jodha could muster was her silence. That was...reassuring? Unsettling? Silence hung in the air as she tied the final knot of the taweez on the jhaali.

Despite saying no more words, his presence loomed heavy in the background, a perfect reminder of Qutb Ibrahim's blessings and their recent exchange.

After offering their prayers at the dargah and with the aftermath of their charged exchange in front of the jhaali, Jodha Begum retained her distance as she took the opportunity to interact with the other pilgrims. Yet, it got more obvious to Jalal - his words had rattled her to the core and she needed space and time to come to terms.

Even as they journeyed back to Agra and set up their camp along the way, Jalal could only chuckle at the futility of her avoidance. Amusement filled him at the fact she thought deflection would temper whatever it was that tied them together. Once upon a time, he had told her that he despised her and that she was nothing more than a war trophy but he knew deep within himself and even then that those were lies - spiteful words to smother the burn of her rejection.

If he truly despised her, why had he initiated a war against her homeland? At first, his motive was purely conquest but the moment she crossed his radar, it evolved into something else - one that transcended territorial expansion and involved his emotions. It became something dangerously personal.

His need for her to be near him or within the same space as he was baffled him, even to the point of fear. If only she knew what power she held over him, over his thoughts. If only she knew what lengths he'd go to ensure she was bound to him. It clawed at him like a thirst he could not easily quench and it terrified him.

Could it be that he was slowly melting for her? Did his feelings go beyond his need to assert his dominance and control over her? Did they go beyond his desire to let the world know he had the untamable Registan ka Gulab under his thumb?

He wanted to laugh at this, have that rational side of his mock the absurd notion of him having feelings that went beyond...

"Shehenshah."

Speak of Amer's Rose and she appears behind you, his inner dialogue came as he turned to face her. She stood poised and resolute, her posture firm as she held his gaze.

"You summoned me."

Even her tone was sharp and defiant as if she was asking him to keep things brief and get straight to the point. Too bad, Jodha Begum. Not when a gun lay at a distance, resting against the tent's frame and he could tell she had seen the weapon as she let out a scoff.

"You are unbelievable, Shehenshah, seriously?" She was quick to express her disapproval. "We have just returned from a pilgrimage, and you are already planning a hunt? Is this the appropriate time for such an indulgence?"

Ah, there she was - his tempestuous unyielding Rajvanshi bride. He raised an eyebrow at her as he picked up the gun with a deliberate sense of calm, "Do you not have hunters in Amer? Or is this one of the many lectures you have in your endless arsenal, Jodha Begum?"

Her eyes narrowed at him as she answered him, "It is one thing to hunt for survival, it is another to hunt for sport. I know damn well this hunting expedition is not because you are hungry but because you want to impose your dominance on those creatures out there."

He chuckled darkly, shaking his head as he stared down at her. Khuda has granted a companion - one who is as steadfast as she is fierce, Qutb Ibrahim's words reverberated in his mind and he could only agree with those words. The woman who stood before him was like a tempestuous storm - relentless and ready to upend everything that stood in her path - including him.

"I had summoned you to accompany me, not chastise me but here you are anyway," he stepped closer towards her. "Tell me, do you get a kick out of this? Being a painful thorn at my side?"

She stood rooted to the ground as she looked away, "Think of me as the voice of your conscience," she, then, faced him, her dark brown eyes hardened as she regarded him with a sharp tone. "That is if you ever bother listening to that as well."

With a grin on his face, he said nothing as his focus narrowed on the musket, loading it with bullets. He could not miss her tense stance or the way her fists were tightly clenched by her sides.

"Pout as much as you want, Jodha Begum," his focus was back on her. "It won't change a thing. I do as I please."

"I will stop you."

He stopped in his tracks at her words. There was a way she said it; it was with such unshaken conviction as if this was not the first time she would ever do something like this.

"Just the same way I had previously saved that deer from you and Begum Ruqaiya," she added with a steady voice, answering his unspoken question.

"So, it was you," he flashed a knowing smirk at her.

It was back in Mathura with him and Ruqaiya who had set up a hunting trip to grant him a moment of distraction from Khan Baba's passing. Ruqaiya had sworn murder and hell for days upon the individual who had interfered with their hunt. If she found out it was none other than Jodha Begum...

She said nothing more, even as they ventured out on the open field. Before leaving, Jalal had left instructions for Atgah Khan to set up a camp at the far side of the Basawad Jungle as a gesture to appease the older man who had expressed his wish to follow along.

Behind him was Jodha Begum, her silence louder than a thousand words as she followed along. There was a reason why he summoned her to his tent, after all, they had a lot of words to exchange, especially in regards to Qutb Ibrahim's words. Did they weigh on her mind the way they did to his?

He glanced over his shoulder, addressing her, "What has you so quiet, Jodha Begum?"

Her attention snapped over to him, her fingers fiddling with the end of her dupatta. "Those men at the Dargah..."

Stopping in his tracks, he turned to meet her. There was a way she phrased those words that had him tighten his grip on the musket and for the first time, it terrified him "What about those men?"

"Their village got devastated by a natural disaster and somehow, the news of such an incident was not brought up in the diwans," she frowned to herself. "This is not the first time such neglect as this will occur. The masjid at Kinari Bazaar..."

He loosened his grip, a frown on his face as he took the time to digest the implication of her words. He stepped closer, his voice lowering as he asked her carefully. "What are you trying to imply here?"

Of course, he knew exactly what she implied but he needed her to be explicit.

She did not falter as she continued, "I had gotten word that the masjid had attempted to address the contamination of a wudu station but they got no word back with some of the adherents considering the option of tayammum. In this case, a flood came and left behind a great loss of lives and properties. How does such news escape the notice of the palace until weeks after the fact? Could it be that...?" She trailed off, suspicion clouding her features.

"You believe there is foul play?" He added in.

"I do not believe so," she said firmly. "I know that. When the subjects do not feel heard by their rulers, they often resort to their desperate devices. If the news of their plight had reached the palace, they would not have resorted to selling their possessions to rebuild their homes, to survive."

There it was and the fact that she had to point this out to him - again - had his jaw tightened. He was fully aware that snakes existed in his court and after what took place at the Sadar Bazaar, he knew corruption abound.

Who, in his court, would dare withhold such information and why? Whoever it was, they had something to gain from this interception.

His relationship with Jodha Begum might be fraught with conflict but she would not make baseless statements. A corner of his lip curled into a smirk and she frowned at him. "Did I say something funny?"

Now, it grew to a full-blown grin. "No, I was just thinking," he said, pausing to see her reaction. Just as he predicted, frustration marked her expression. "If you were not my begum, you would make a great advisor like Badi Ammi."

Her frown deepened before evolving to a subtle and subdued expression - one he could not readily decipher - before electing to walk ahead of him.

Such temerity. She thought she could end the conversation on her terms when he was not done with her. Not now, not yet. Not until he gained insight into why they were alone in this field.

"We're not done, Jodha Begum," he called out to her. "We still have much to discuss"

And with that, she stopped in her tracks. This, he decided, was far from over.

closing notes: hello hello. I sincerely apologize for this cliffhanger I left here and I am afraid it will be here for the next two weeks as Christmas will be coming up and it is an important season to me. to those who celebrate, I wish you a Merry Christmas. to those who do not, I wish you a Happy Holiday! also, Happy New Year in advance and I hope to see you guys in 2025 and all the best!

I came across this story yesterday night, and couldn't go to sleep until I read all that you've written.

This story has been written so beautifully and all your characters have these layers and depth to them which adds more intrigue to the plot.... Can't wait to read more of your work!!

it is unsettling at first but he does mean it when he says that not even Death will separate them, after all irl, Akbar and MUZ’s graves are within proximity.

death is often viewed as the terminal where every earthly tie and connection is severed but Jalal is willing to have their bond last even beyond that terminal. again, it is unsettling to think about it but he is also unwittingly revealing his vulnerability to Jodha.