akdha ff - the desert's rose - Page 8

the rose and her poisonous thorns (🏜️🌹)

opening notes: lkdaswani's The Satan and His Lilith in "Fitoori" inspired this chapter's titling. that, and my minor in biology. so, y'all know how Jodha is called the "Registan ka Gulab" which translates to the rose of the desert? on an evolutionary basis, plants found in the desert have modifications where their parts (leaves, stems, branches etc) are thornier/spikier. desert roses are not only thornier but also have poisonous saps which is why a lot of plant enthusiasts are warned against growing this type of plant if they have kids or pets at home. anyway, enough of me yapping here. some of the Hindi/Urdu words were gotten with the help of multiple translators, so I may have messed them up, please, correct me if you encounter any error 🥲🙏🏾

As they both took the path down to Jodha's hojra, the walk remained awkwardly silent between Jalal and Rani Mainavati even as he held his head up high.

Even if he was merely fulfilling his end of the agreement he had, he could not easily forego the forlorn look she had held during the shaadi.

Fair enough, she was a mother foremost before she was Rani Mainavati. Any mother would be hesitant to give their daughter away to the enemy, even if it meant the salvation of their kingdom.

From what he knew, this ritual was to be conducted by the bride's father. So, for Rani Mainavati to have accompanied Raja Bharmal meant exactly what he had thought.

She had not needed to say a single word before he offered to take her to her bete's chambers. A smile of appreciation had lit up her face as she nodded her consent and here they were.

What would make a great conversation starter for a queen who had journeyed all the way to Agra just to see her daughter? When did he start running out of words to say? He was, after all, Jalaluddin Mohammad, Shehenshah-e-Hindustan, the words always came so naturally to him.

If he needed to follow his end of the bargain with Jodha, he had better bring up something.

"I reckon your journey went as smoothly as it could," he said, breaking through the awkward silence which suffocated him. He slowly turned to see the smile which brightened the face of Rani Mainavati. He could also notice the dark circles under her eyes - she must have had sleepless nights at that as well.

"It did," she replied, her fatigue showing through her voice. "I have spent days in expectation. It has provided a source of comfort as well."

Then, she looked up at him, her brown eyes warm and a little too resemblant to those of a certain Rajvanshi begum under the roof of his harem, except those eyes blazed at him almost every time he was within proximity to their owner.

"Raja Sa had announced his journey to Agra and I knew I had to come along," she added, her hand holding on to her dupatta. "I just wanted to see for myself how well she is faring."

"She fares well, Rani Sahiba," was his response. Except for the few times after their moment in the hammam, things were back to the status quo. The only times he got to see Jodha Begum were from the view from the balcony of his chambers. She seemed to handle her stay even better than he had expected. If she was not in the garden, she was out with Malika-e-Azaam.

A soft sigh escaped Rani Mainavati at that, a look of satisfaction on her face, "She has always adapted easily to changes."

That he concurred with.

"I know my Jodha could be a bit difficult," she said, making him almost scoff. 'A bit' was way too generous to describe the difficulty Amer's rose had posed to him from the moment he had heard about her. "Ever since I first held her in my arms as an infant, I knew she would be a handful."

"Rani Sahiba," he grinned, a note of pride on his face. "Nothing is too hard for Jalaluddin Mohammad."

Not even Amer's rose, Rani Sahiba.

"I know," she looked up at him with a shake of the head, then exhaled. "She does not completely comprehend the traditions or the customs of this place. I am afraid that she would unknowingly offend you and the pillars of the Mughal Empire."

If only she knew, he thought as the memories of the jashn after the nikah flooded his mind so vividly.

"Why would she not comprehend our traditions and customs, Rani Sahiba? Jodha Begum is a wise woman, after all."

With a nod, Rani Mainavati faced forward, "Whatever it is, I know that you were destined to be her pati for a reason."

He let out a hum at that as they finally reached their destination. There on the floor knelt Jodha Begum and a few Hindu bandhis with a thali in her hand before the murti of Kanha as she concluded the rituals - what were they called again?

Jalal observed as the women all stood up to their full heights to pick up some offerings from the thali. His curiosity had him a little too engrossed to notice she was aware of their presence now.

"Maa Sa?" Her lilt voice snapped him back to the present. He observed the moment when her face morphed to a wide smile, his presence ignored as she moved forward, reaching down to touch the feet of Rani Mainavati who only held her by the forearm to stop her before taking her into her arms in a hug.

The tenderness of the scene was almost enough to melt his nonexistent heart. His hand waved in dismissal at the bandhis who quietly left the hojra leaving just the three of them.

It took a while before the maa-bete duo would part from each other, exchanging teary-eyed glances.

"Maa Sa," she said tenderly, her hands together as she greeted. "I had not expected you'd arrive earlier than usual. Here," she turned to pick up the thali she had set aside. "Some prasad."

Rani Mainavati held her hand above the flame, passing the smoke over her head before picking up one of the prasad.

"You look healthier, bete. It is safe for me to assume Jamai Sa has been taking good care of you."

It was then Jodha took note of his presence, acknowledging him. Her eyelids fluttered and she put on that mask that looked so believable he'd have fallen for it.

"Mujhe maaf kar do, Shehenshah," she waved off her initial lack of acknowledgment with a nervous chuckle. "I had not noticed you due to my distraction."

Jalal fought the urge to scoff at that. If she wanted to play this game with him, he was a better player than she was.

"Of course," he smiled at her, rubbing his chin. "Why would I fault you for that, Jaan?"

Her face momentarily fell at the sudden nickname while Rani Mainavati seemed elated at their exchange.

"Besides, I had your attention for some nights now, why should I be angry if you were a little distracted today?" He grinned now at the sight of her flushed face as she grasped the implications of his words. She turned to Rani Mainavati as if to explain herself

"We-uh merely spent the night talking, Maa Sa," Jodha rushed in with a nervous laugh before she sent him a brief glare.

Talking? What couple spent nights together talking? From the expression on Rani Mainavati's face, Jalal could tell she did not buy that either.

Either way, he chose to play along, he laughed, "Of course, we did a lot of talking. I do not think I have encountered any woman as knowledgeable as Jodha Begum. She showed me a lot of things I would never have known before."

A smirk lifted his lips at the way she stared at him in disbelief, her eyes going stone cold as soon as she faced him. "Absolutely, Shehenshah has shown himself to be quite the fast learner, Maa Sa," she added with a fake smile.

"Why are your juttis on?" His face fell as he looked down on his feet. What was the deal with his shoes? First, it was Ruqaiya Begum who complained about his juttis on her bed, now, it was Jodha Begum's focus on those shoes in her room. Her voice rang firm as she urged him to take them off. "This is a sacred ground, remember? You cannot have your shoes on in front of Kanha's murti."

A chuckle left him as he slipped his feet out of the shoes, nudging them to the side with his foot. Today would be the first time he'd hear about that

"Of course," he said apologetically. "That had slipped my mind."

"Hmm," she hummed in dismissal, turning to Rani Mainavati who seemed captivated by their spectacle. "You see, Maa Sa, as fast of a learner Shehenshah is, he also gets distracted. I told him about this the day before, you know?"

His eyes narrowed, her stealth insult not escaping him. Then, they trailed down to her right wrist, which seemed to have healed leaving a few scars.

He smirked as he took a long hard stare at her, "Your wrist, it seems to have healed well."

"Wrist?" Rani Mainavati's face went pale, her eyes widening as she picked up Jodha's right hand, rolling down the bangles (which were of a material other than glass) to behold the faded scars. "How did this happen?!"

If looks could kill, his head would be at her feet within seconds with the way Jodha glared viciously at him as if she was thinking of scenarios of how her lifelong wish would finally become a reality at this moment.

Too bad, Jodha Begum, he grinned at her, awaiting what else she would come up with to pull herself out of this one.

"My bangles broke while I tried taking them off my wrist, Maa Sa. I got distracted and with a grip harder than I had expected, they broke."

Jalal did not miss the barb in her voice as she retorted. For her, it was better to cite herself as being the reason why she had those scars than to explain the whole night to her Ammi and end up defeating the whole purpose of her deal with him

With a sigh of relief, Rani Mainavati let go of Jodha's lower arm. "You should be careful or else, you will hurt yourself," she scolded.

"I did tell her to be a little more careful with the chooriyan, but-," he quipped with a shrug. "She is too stubborn for her good."

Jodha gaped at him with a heated look on her face while Rani Mainavati shook her head at their antics, her palms pressed together, "Please, Jamai Sa, I did tell you she could be a bit difficult."

"Of course," he chuckled. "I must take my leave now, Rani Sa. I hope you can rest well. Khuda Hafiz."

With his back turned, he left the duo in the hojra, a mischievous smile on his face, as he plotted ways he'd keep Jodha Begum flustered while Raja Bharmal and Rani Mainavati stayed in Agra.

After days of sleepless nights, Mainavati finally found herself well-rested, her mind at peace. The mahal which stood behind the walls of the fort captured her attention, the art just as exquisite as the one back home in Amer.

Maan Singh had been the one to show her around the palace as Jodha was away for the time being. It was to go see the people of this kingdom as Moti Bai explained to her the moment she awoke.

Mainavati's face beamed at the sight of the Angoori Bagh, the rich garden captivating her. The green foliage and colourful flowers were aesthetically pleasing to the eyes of whoever was fortunate to behold them.

It was a matter of time before she was joined by Jodha, the young woman's face beamed the moment she stepped into the garden.

"Pranaam, Bua Sa," Maan Singh stepped forward to greet Jodha who stopped him halfway. He opted to put his hands together with a slight bow of the head. "I was showing Dadi Sa around the places in your absence."

"Theek hai, Maan Singh," she nodded before turning to look behind, then turned to face them. "I believe your presence is needed in the court. We will talk later in the day."

With a bow, Maan Singh left the two women in the garden again. The atmosphere thickened with silence so suffocating. It was ironic how Mainavati lost sleep for days on end as she looked forward to being with her bete yet, here she was, her mind blank after finally being able to rest.

The words of Shaguni Bai rang through her mind, putting her to rest again. Her laadli seemed happy while under this roof, what more was she to fear?

"Fate showed me obstacles, hurdles Jodha would have to overcome."

The following words of the clairvoyant awoken that part of her which wished to shield her Jodha. How she wished her bete would not have to face such challenges, whatever they might be.

"But Rani Sa, you raised a rose, not a broken reed."

"Maa Sa," Jodha's voice broke through her thoughts and Mainavati gazed at her. "You never told me why you decided to go with Bhapusa. You do know that this rite is to be done by him."

"I had to, I had to come over to see your face again," her eyes dimmed by a fraction. "Amer seems empty without you, I have never heard a place sound so quiet. We miss you, I miss you, Laadli."

Jodha's eyes watered at that, her eyes blinking, "Maa Sa, Amer will always be in my blood. I miss home, I miss you too. But this is also my home, at least, I am trying to make a home out of Agra."

Mainavati chortled, "And here I was thinking I had made the wrong decision." Her hands held Jodha's as she stared deeply into her eyes. "It has always been a prayer of mine that my daughter be happy in her new home. It brings me joy."

"Sukanya and Shivani? How do they fare? I hope they do not miss me too much."

Mainavati stopped in her tracks, her face fell at the question. While Sukanya and Shivani also felt the absence of their didi, that was not the issue with led to her soured expression.

"Maa Sa?" Her arms felt the coolness of Jodha's palm, snapping her forward into reality. "Is anything the matter?"

She shook her head, the tears she attempted to fight back threatened to escape. None of that escaped Jodha's notice, forcing Mainavati to come clean.

"Sukanya," her voice trembled. "Every attempt to find a suitor for her has ended up futile. Rajputana has refused to forgive us for marrying you into the Mughal Empire."

Jodha's face fell, guilt written over her face as she looked away. Mainavati knew at that moment her daughter blamed herself for this.

Cupping her cheeks, Mainavati smiled at her, "Nahi, bete, none of this is your fault. Don't bear this as a burden. I have hope that the goddess has a match for Sukanya in Rajputana."

It did less to reassure the younger queen but she nodded in reply. It took a while for Mainavati to notice an extra presence behind them.

"Jodha," she redirected her attention to their guest.

Turning to view who it was, a soft whisper of "Ammi Jaan" reached Mainavati's ears.

Now, she had the opportunity to observe the woman before them. She stood tall and cladded in an azure shin-length peshwaz paired with churidars of the same colour.

Her appearance spoke of royalty and opulence as her peshwaz was intricately decorated and sparsely decked with gems. Her hair was partially covered with her dupatta exposing her jhoomer.

Her hair also showed a few grey strands and her light brown eyes had light crow feet around the edges.

"Ammi Jaan, Maa Sa," the woman glanced at Mainavati, acknowledging her with a gentle smile. Jodha then turned to her, "Maa Sa, Ammi Jaan."

The two older queens exchanged greetings, Mainavati's hands pressed together and Hamida's hand up to her forehead.

"Pranaam."

"Adaab."

Ammi Jaan, Jodha had called the woman before her. Mainavati had already put two and two together that she was none other than Malika-e-Azaam, Hamida Bano Begum, mother to the Badshah Salamat.

Tears sprang up in her eyes, this time, they were tears of joy at the fact that Hamida considered her Laadli as her own daughter.

It brought warmth to her heart that regardless of whatever obstacles Jodha would face here, she had a support system.

"Subhanallah!" Hamida exclaimed, "Khuda has blessed me with the opportunity of being in the presence of the woman who birthed and raised the Registan ka Gulab. Words cannot describe how happy I am to finally meet you."

"Dhanyavaad, Malika-e-Azaam, even I am esteemed to be in the presence of the woman who has welcomed my Jodha and made her feel at home here."

"Jodha here," Hamida briefly glanced at the aforementioned in appreciation. "Has proven herself to be of knowledge and wisdom. I can only praise the one who has raised her well."

Letting out a tearful chuckle, Mainavati reached to catch the tears in her eyes. The emotional moment was soon cut short with someone running into the Angoori Bagh.

"Oof," Mainavati almost fell but caught herself when the person - a child - took refuge behind Jodha. Curious, her eyebrows furrowed as she took note of this child.

He was a boy, barely above the age of 6 and, from his appearance, was of royal/noble background.

"Kaun hai?" Jodha, caught unaware, chuckled as she looked behind her to see the boy clutching her pallu.

(Who is it?)

Mainavati and Hamida looked on at the spectacle, sharing a look of incredulity at the scene.

"Kohee nahin," a little voice rang through.

(Nobody)

"Hmm," Jodha sighed, her hand on her chin as a teasing look crossed her face. "This would be the first time I'd hear 'nobody' respond to a question."

The boy, finding himself caught, released Jodha's pallu, his head up as he walked to the front of the three women.

"Adaab," he greeted. "I am called Abdul Rahim Khan-e-Khana."

Getting down on her knees, Jodha greeted with a "Pranaam", introducing herself to Rahim. It was then another presence joined - another woman not any older than Jodha.

Sighing in relief, the woman glowered at Rahim, "Where have you been, Rahim? It is almost time for madrasah!"

"Mujhe maaf kar do, Ammi Jaan," Rahim held his two ears in apology, his head down with a pout on his lips.

The woman shook her head wearily before facing the three women, "My apologies, Jodha Begum, Ammi Jaan, Rani Sahiba."

"No need to apologize, Salima Begum," Jodha beamed. "Children are messengers of God, after all, and are allowed wherever they wish to be."

It was also then that Jodha introduced Mainavati to Salima Begum, the woman who seemed wise beyond her years with her mannerisms and composure. In gratitude, Mainavati found herself elated that her daughter had found a company in these women before her.

Jodha had no idea if she should curse her fate, her hand right begrudgingly steering the contents of the pot while the left reached out for the chilli from Moti.

Wordlessly, her dasi passed the chilli to her.

It had all started as a jashn to warmly welcome Amer's royal family to Agra, a fairly small event until Bhaisa had to praise her culinary skills in front of Shehenshah.

She frowned at the thought of cooking and presenting her meal before him, watching him eat. She lit up at the thought of him choking on the meal and dying a slow painful death.

Sure, it was against the values she held dear but it was simultaneously hilarious to imagine.

Shehenshah Jalal-ud-Din Mohammad, dead from choking.

She huffed to herself, if wishes were horses.

"Ruko!" A deep feminine voice made her pause in her tracks.

Turning, she was face-to-face with none other than Maham Anga. The older woman viewed her with disdain, her round dark gray eyes boring into her.

For the most part, Jodha tried to avoid her but some things were just inevitable, one of them being none other than the woman before her.

The woman dressed in the same white garb which carried with it its double meanings - white for a woman mourning the loss of her husband and white for purity. Despite the symbolism of the white clothes she wore, Maham Anga's soul was filled with the blackness of hate and arrogance.

The dasis moved aside for the woman who strode down to her, her khwaja sara, Resham, towing behind her like a shadow. Jodha held her breath as Maham Anga stood before her, her eyes gave her a once-over before veering off to the food in the pot.

"What are you cooking?" Her voice was cold and would have been monosyllabic if it was possible.

"Sabut moong dal."

Maham Anga hummed, a look of suspicion thrown at her before staring at the food as if it were a live venomous snake instead of a vegetarian dish with lentils and legumes.

"Taste it," she commanded. Jodha was tempted to laugh in her face, almost snorting at what the middle-aged woman was implying.

Zeher?! Really?!

If she wanted the jallad outside dead, she'd rather it be at her own hands, just the way she wished it to be - by her sword.

It was insulting, the insinuation that she'd resort to the methods of cowards by poisoning him.

Nonetheless, she picked up a smaller thali and a spoon, taking a spoonful of the aromatic dish and tasting it. Maham Anga's eyes narrowed at her as if waiting for her to keel over and die. When she saw that she still stood alive and well, the woman waved her off in dismissal.

Not willing to spend a second more than necessary in the presence of the forebearing woman, she walked away to prepare the next dish. It might as well have ended up being a mistake on her part.

The jashn was entertaining at best but not entertaining enough to the ever-scheming Maham Anga whose face was currently fixed in a neutral-looking expression but deep within, she looked forward to the chaotic ending the royal court of Agra was about to witness.

The opportunity to humiliate the Rajvanshi perfectly opened up the moment she turned away to prepare some kheer for Jalal. Maham Anga had tasted the food as well and true to the words of Shehzade Bhagwan Das, Jodha Begum was indeed skilled in culinary arts. But who was the Wazir-e-Aaliya to allow Jodha Begum to give that food in its low-spice state to Jalal?

All it took was a little bit of more chilli powder poured into the moong dal and voilà, the world's perfect recipe for a disaster waiting to happen. Jalal had this weird sensitivity when it came to his sense of taste - his food could not be too sweet or too salty or too spicy. It dared not even be bland or else it would spell doom for whoever prepared his meal.

With Jalal's anger being as destructive as it could be, Begum Jodha had no chance of surviving the aftermath.

Her face began to lift in a smirk as soon as the whole setting was brought in. The aroma of the sabut moong dal filled the room, a terrible shame it masked the extra spiciness for a man who detested anything spicier than his preferred spice level.

Placed by the thali bearing the moong dal was another which had a stack of butter naan and a bowl of kheer which would not be enough to douse the heat of the chilli.

Maham Anga restrained herself from pulling off the Kubrick smile that threatened to make its presence known soon.

More thalis were brought in, containing a variety of other meals prepared by Begum Jodha. Just like the moong dal, all of them were sabotaged but she knew Jalal would go for that moong dal first.

Just the way she predicted, Jalal went for the sabut moong dal first, his fingers tearing off a piece of the naan that he dipped. Her smirk widened as soon as he popped it into his mouth, evolving into a wider smug grin the moment she noticed the change in his expression.

Now, it begins.

This was the moment she eagerly awaited, the moment where he would lash out in cold fury and humiliate Begum Jodha right in front of her family.

Words were not enough to describe the amount of disdain she felt towards the Rajvanshi woman or the seemingly innocent face she put on. Yet, for some reason, Jalal found himself captivated by her and was even ready to accept the terms she laid out for him at the Muh Dikhai.

Had she merely been forced to convert, maybe Maham Anga would have tolerated her but no, Jalal had to give her a semblance of control to the point of even letting a mandir for Krishna be set up in her hojra.

If Jalal was willing to give her an inch, Maham Anga feared the mile Jodha would decide to take next. It was like the proverbial camel in the tent, it started with the camel's nose - letting a Hindu queen retain her religion and culture. Hell would have to freeze over first before she would allow this camel to move its entire body into the tent and shove the owner out of his abode.

However, her face lost its smirk the moment Jalal took another bite. Had her plans not worked and had one of the bandhis thrown out the moong dal for another? Why was Jalal going for a second taste?

Then she noticed how red his face grew, fixed into a glower while sweat beaded on his forehead.

So, he did feel the spice after all. Yet, why did he bottle up the rage she hoped he would let out?

What is going on? She thought, a frown of confusion on her face. Even Resham fixed her a puzzled look at her failed plans.

It took a few more bites before Jalal stood up abruptly, prompting everyone to stand up as well. Maham Anga observed the tight clenching and unclenching of his fist as he subtly glared at Begum Jodha. It was as if he actively held himself back from strangling her.

Time stood still, a moment of tension for everyone in the room before he walked out without a word. With her eyebrows furrowed, Maham Anga turned to watch the retreating figure of her foster son.

What just happened? She found herself questioning, her legs leading her to follow after Jalal.

Heat and pain were the two words he could use to describe the agony he felt as he marched into his hojra, Badi Ammi following after.

"Jalal! Jalal," she called after him.

On a normal day, he would dignify her with a response but this night was anything but normal. He steamed with anger so hot it would burn anything unfortunate to be in his way.

"Call Jodha Begum!" He said coldly.

Badi Ammi stood before him in confusion, her eyes widened. "Jodha Begum? Why? What happened? Did she do something wrong?"

"Ask her to come here," he snapped, his patience hanging on by a fine thread. "I do not care if you have to drag her down to this place by her hair, I want her right here!"

"Ji," Badi Ammi trembled from the intensity of his rage, a shaky nod from her as she set out to carry out his orders.

His mind fumed, not just from anger but from the heat of the spice. His hands scrambled around the end table by his bed for the jug which held what he desperately needed - water.

He picked up the jug, water flooding into his mouth with the hopes of quenching the pain. It only managed to worsen it, his eyes tearing up now.

That she-devil, that bride of Shaytan, how dare she!

She had walked in, put on the best disguise of false shyness around him in the hammam only for her to do this to him. Had she been planning this the moment her bhaijaan had praised her skills before him? Was this a form of revenge for what took place in her hojra?

That poisonous desert rose had pricked him with another one of her thorns and his mouth suffered the aftermath.

Her entrance was long due as the sound of her payals alerted him to her entrance.

Even with the stunt she just pulled, she maintained that false innocent appearance before him like the witch she was.

"Why did you wish to see me?" she asked him as if she had no idea what she just did.

That managed to further stroke his rage as he stood up to his full height, the metal jug rolling to the ground and startling her as she almost jumped in fear. His hair stuck to his sweaty forehead as he sent her a glare

"Why? Why did you make the food so spicy?"

With a look of puzzlement, she looked up at him. How long was she going to keep up with this facade?

"Hindustan has thousands of cooks eager to have me taste their dishes but you," he pointed at her. "You decided to serve me that dish. I chose to say nothing because I kept my word to not humiliate you but like the devil you are, you have chosen to take advantage of my chivalry."

A small frown graced her face at that.

"If you were planning to scare me, then, you have failed, for I have done nothing wrong," she said firmly, without any fear of what the repercussions might be.

The temerity she had to even talk back at him made him scoff as he slowly advanced on her. She held her head high to behold him.

"What did you just say?" He asked, his voice low and deep, daring her to repeat her words.

"I told you, I am not afraid of you," she repeated, her eyes meeting his. "I have done nothing that would warrant my fear."

He gave her a derisive smile at her bravery which he found admirable until now. Still, he allowed her to speak.

"I tasted the food I made and it was fine. I would never make a meal so spicy for anyone, especially if they cannot tolerate it," her voice was firm without any wavering. "And for my family, I am concerned for their welfare more than anyone. I have done everything, including your conditions even though they were the last thing I'd ever do. Why would I jeopardize the happiness of my family and the safety of Amer?"

His eyes grew cold, his nose flaring as a mocking look graced his face. It became more clear to him, she could care less about his welfare - it was her people that mattered more to her.

He looked down at her, an unspoken promise of vengeance in his eyes. There was no way he'd let her get away with this one at all.

closing notes: silly Jalal, little does he know that water does little to quench spice and will only spread the heat to other parts of the mouth 💀💀💀. also, Jalal, if she's the bride of Shaytan, what does that make you? this part (the spice attack) was funny to watch in the serial and even more hilarious to write that I had a good laugh while drafting and proofreading 😂. and speaking of spice, the next chapter will feature a bit of that (not between the main couple however, it is way too early for that).

also, if you want to be on my tag list or removed from it, please, let me know, thank you 😄💜

additional notes: I was finally able to update "the wedding (part five)" in its entirety. here is the link in case you want to catch up with it: the wedding (part five)

Another beautiful update!! Everytime I read about the chilly incident, I remember the dialogue of Jodha "He can't handle Ameri spice how he would handle Amer's Princess" but anyway he learnt to handle both Ameri spice and Ameri Princess.

Oh, Mide! I am in awe of the pictures you've added to your story!! They enrich the experience of reading. ❤️
I scrolled from the first chapter to the last and went through every picture and header-- LOVE THEM! ❤️ (especially the character list.)

Oooh, we got the spicy scene in this chapter. I absolutely love the chapter title, it suits the theme (and thank you for mentioning Fitoori!! 🥹😍)
Every time I read this scene, I cannot help but remember the scene after where Jalal started eating raw green chillies just to become habitual of the spice and it was these little things throughout the show that made us fall absolutely in love with Jalal's character (and Rajat's portrayal of it).
We saw Jalal changing himself gradually to adapt himself to Jodha perfectly-- so their couple was not quite like Yin and Yang but more like...uh. I am defos failing at analogy 101- but like how gold encases a diamond- hugging it to keep it secure? I am sure there are better analogies out there but it's past midnight here and my mind has logged out of its working hours.
But yes, It's like Jodha remained mostly as she was but Jalal moulded himself around her, filling in the cavities and the grooves, completing her.

Man this dialogue has me snapping my teeth,
"I do not care if you have to drag her down to this place by her hair, I want her right here!"
Sometimes I want to throw Jalal's face into a table. Or onto my hand.

HAHAHAHAH! Jalal calling Jodha 'Jaan' in front of Rani Mainavati, choked me. Oh, I loved that! 😂
Loved the conversation between Hamida and Mainavati- together they could mother the entirety of Hindustan.

Okay, I am going to stop typing because I am sure my comment stopped making sense two lines ago.

❤️

OH! PS. tHIS line.
"That she-devil, that bride of shaytan, how dare she!"

This was hilarious. Bride of Shaytan--- did Jalal realise in his spicy misery that he called himself a shaytan. 😂🤣

Originally posted by: lkdaswani

Oh, Mide! I am in awe of the pictures you've added to your story!! They enrich the experience of reading. ❤️
I scrolled from the first chapter to the last and went through every picture and header-- LOVE THEM! ❤️ (especially the character list.)

hi, hi! glad to have you back again. it was one of the first things I did once I went from beginner to explorer - adding the pictures. I am glad you loved them though 😄🥰

Oooh, we got the spicy scene in this chapter. I absolutely love the chapter title, it suits the theme (and thank you for mentioning Fitoori!! 🥹😍)
Every time I read this scene, I cannot help but remember the scene after where Jalal started eating raw green chillies just to become habitual of the spice and it was these little things throughout the show that made us fall absolutely in love with Jalal's character (and Rajat's portrayal of it).
We saw Jalal changing himself gradually to adapt himself to Jodha perfectly-- so their couple was not quite like Yin and Yang but more like...uh. I am defos failing at analogy 101- but like how gold encases a diamond- hugging it to keep it secure? I am sure there are better analogies out there but it's past midnight here and my mind has logged out of its working hours.
But yes, It's like Jodha remained mostly as she was but Jalal moulded himself around her, filling in the cavities and the grooves, completing her.

Man this dialogue has me snapping my teeth,
"I do not care if you have to drag her down to this place by her hair, I want her right here!"
Sometimes I want to throw Jalal's face into a table. Or onto my hand.

same, same because he deserves it 😩😂

HAHAHAHAH! Jalal calling Jodha 'Jaan' in front of Rani Mainavati, choked me. Oh, I loved that! 😂

Jodha was not expecting that; it was not a part of their script 🤭😂😂
Loved the conversation between Hamida and Mainavati- together they could mother the entirety of Hindustan.

they'd definitely have been friends if we had more screentime for these two and less dedication to some [redacted] plots (those plots know themselves)

Okay, I am going to stop typing because I am sure my comment stopped making sense two lines ago.

no, no, it's fine, they make sense to me.

❤️

OH! PS. tHIS line.
"That she-devil, that bride of shaytan, how dare she!"

This was hilarious. Bride of Shaytan--- did Jalal realise in his spicy misery that he called himself a shaytan. 😂🤣

I have said this previously and it is worth mentioning again that Fitoori has created the standard for me, so, yes, I do need to give it a shoutout because you deserve it 🥰😄.

I believe that this adaptation is exactly what Maham Anga fears a lot (which I briefly touched up on in her POV in this chapter). in fact, I have noticed that most of Maham's actions against Jodha were all done from a place of fear. it is as if she knows just exactly what Jodha can be capable of and every plot against her is a way to undermine her before Jalal's eyes so he does not adapt or change at all.

the "she-devil/bride of shaytan" line was inspired by your title in Fitoori btw but yeah, I wonder if Jalal would have one of those retrospection in which he realizes what he just indirectly called himself in his rage against Jodha 😂😂😂

hi! thank you for your comment. I did try to give this chapter a different spin while trying to use some of the dialogues in the serial. I am glad you loved the dialogue.

Jodha does wear her heart on her sleeve in the serial, way too many times and way too much for her own good. I feel it is also one of the reasons why Maham Anga was able to take advantage 🥲😬.

as for the farman, nah, hell no. the Moti track did annoy the hell out of me, much more than it should because of how idiotic it was. and yeah, I did not want Adham Khan to get away with any of that nonsense he did either. I have gone a different path with the farman, I don't know how well I wrote it, lol.

to answer your question, "Zan-e-Kalan", of Persian origin, was the honorific title given to the emperor's first wife. and thanks again for the kind words, I hope to meet and exceed your expectations for this fanfic, I am glad you enjoyed it.

Hey! Thank you so much for the update, really needed it after the week I've had.
I loved the dynamics between Jalal and Ruqaiya the most in this chapter- you don't need to apologize about the mature scene, it was tastefully written and fitted well into the chapter, (the show really lacked on showing the physical side of the relationship, we got what- 2? somewhat intimate scenes in over 200 episodes?)

I absolutely loved that Jodha visited the Ambe Maa temple in this chapter and that this was her first official outing as a Mughal Begum in the streets of Agra. People of Agra seem to like her.

I think my favourite scene is when Jodha asks Ruqaiya- who is overconfident that she has won- to stop, that the game is not yet over and then absolutely smashes the game with one single move.
Pure Sigma move.

Originally posted by: lkdaswani

Hey! Thank you so much for the update, really needed it after the week I've had.
I loved the dynamics between Jalal and Ruqaiya the most in this chapter- you don't need to apologize about the mature scene, it was tastefully written and fitted well into the chapter, (the show really lacked on showing the physical side of the relationship, we got what- 2? somewhat intimate scenes in over 200 episodes?)

thank you for this, I was so scared when I drafted that and almost deleted that scene twice 😂. I also need to thank the Tumblr blogs for helping me with that one. Jalal and Ruqs' dynamics remind me of (a tame version of) the unholy matrimony trope and a subtle kind of power play especially on Ruqaiya's part (until the pre-Sukanya wedding track where Jalal reminds her that he is the one with the ultimate power).

I absolutely loved that Jodha visited the Ambe Maa temple in this chapter and that this was her first official outing as a Mughal Begum in the streets of Agra. People of Agra seem to like her.

The serial missed a lot of opportunities to do this, instead, we were given harem politics and when we do get to see Jodha taking on administrative roles in Agra, it is close to the end of the serial. even then, that is to further cast Ruqaiya as a vamp (which till now still annoys me because why would Ruqaiya resort to such an action for the pettiest reasons? 😭😭😭)

I think my favourite scene is when Jodha asks Ruqaiya- who is overconfident that she has won- to stop, that the game is not yet over and then absolutely smashes the game with one single move.
Pure Sigma move.

Ruqaiya was way too overconfident for her own good. if she wasn't, she might have won the game...or maybe not.

overall, this chapter was one of my favourite chapters to write in this fanfic and thank you for the lovely comment 🥰💜

pay unto caesar (🏜️🌹)

opening quote:
"show me a denarius. whose head and whose title does it bear?"
they said, "the emperor's."
he said to them, "then give to the emperor the things that are the emperor's, and to God the things that are God's."

Time flew fast as days went by after the jashn and it was finally time to return home to Amer.

Unlike her initial fretfulness which had followed her into Agra, Mainavati stood beside Bharmal with a peace of mind.

"We express our gratitude for the hospitality we have received, Shehenshah," Bharmal smiled in appreciation with a slight bow with Jamai Sa giving him a slight nod.

With him stood Malika-e-Azaam, Wazir-e-Aliya and Jodha.

Stepping forward with tears in her eyes, she paid her respects to Bharmal and Mainavati by touching their feet. Upon standing, Bharmal tenderly touched her shoulder.

"May Ambe Maa continue to protect you, bete," he said, his response being a shaky nod from Jodha who then turned to face her.

Mainavati looked up at her daughter, her soft hands wiping off some of the tears which rolled down her cheeks.

The younger woman beheld her with a teary smile, earning a joyous laugh from Mainavati. She was not the only one who had to face the fact they would be apart from each other again, it seems.

"Remember what I told you the previous night," Jodha nodded in response. "Do your best to abide by that, bete."

"I will, Maa Sa," she replied, then Mainavati took her in a hug, her hand slowly stroking her dupatta-covered hair.

Jodha's grip was exceptionally tighter as if she was holding on to a lifeline before they parted. Mainavati did not miss the shaky sigh her daughter let out.

"Amer will always be your home, bete," she said reassuringly. "You can always come visit whenever you want."

She received a nod again, before watching Jodha retreat back to Agra's royal family. Her hands pressed together, she also expressed her gratitude to Jamai Sa, "Dhanyavaad, Jamai Sa. Thank you for your hospitality and for taking care of Jodha."

"Of course," Jamai Sa gave her a soft smile. "I will always take care of her, Rani Sahiba."

"And please, do visit when you can," Hamida cut in. "Agra is also your home."

With a slight bow, she acknowledged her before moving into her palki. Outside stood Jodha with Hamida consoling her.

From the short time spent in Agra, Mainavati had gotten to know a bit about Hamida. The woman stood with grace and exceptional kindness and they both seemed to share a few things in common as well like concern over the wellbeing of their people.

While Mainavati had come to know that her Jodha still was not happy in her marriage to Jamai Sa, she left for Amer with relief that she had an Ammi like Hamida.

Regardless of whatever obstacles Jodha was about to face, Mainavati could rest in assurance that her daughter had someone to fall back on.

She inhaled then exhaled, taking a peek to look at Jodha who stood forlorn. The palki and procession heading back to Amer moved further away from the fort and Jodha's figure grew shorter within distance.

Her eyes pricked with tears as she would reminisce on the words she had said to Jodha the day before. Her heart beat with joy that her daughter was starting to take on a bit of her queenly responsibilities yet, she had to break down to her what it really meant to be queen.

"The best thing about being the queen is that everyone does whatever you want. The worst part is that you cannot do whatever you want," Jodha listened intently as she spoke. "To the outside, it might seem a luxury but the truth is that heavy is the crown that sits on the head."

"It is about making sacrifices, Laadli. The responsibility you have takes priority over whatever your wants may be. At the end of the day, this is the reality a queen must face whether she is a Rajput Maharani or a Mughal Malika," Mainavati added, her hand cupping her daughter's face. "Regardless of what your true feelings for Jamai Sa might be, do not let that blind you from the responsibilities you bear towards your people."

Now, in her palki, Mainavati wondered if there was more she could have told Jodha, if what she had said had been enough for the younger queen to take in.

Then, she remembered the words of Jamai Sa praising her wisdom and she beamed with a smile. Jodha was going to figure it out well as long as she had the company she had here in Agra.

"Ambe Maa, please, be with my bete, Jodha," she prayed to herself before Jodha finally disappeared from her line of vision.

She desired the sweet embrace of solitude, her mind going into overdrive as she walked back into her hojra. Three months have since passed since the night at the jashn where she won the game of chaturanga.

Since the moment she refused to accept his prize for winning, it seemed Jodha had made Jalal even more determined to ensure she took that farman but her obstinance overpowered his drive.

What just took place at the Diwan-e-Aam made her harden her resolve to keep on refusing his prize until he would eventually give up. But right now, she needed that solitude she desperately craved, a sigh of relief coming from her as she eventually made her way into her place of solace.

However, her relief was shortlived at the sight of Ammi Jaan, the older woman staring back at her in worry.

So much for solitude, Jodha thought as she greeted Ammi Jaan who made her way over. No doubt, she had seen the look of shock on her face after the proceedings in the court and had thought to visit her.

The gesture was nice, welcomed in fact but the last thing Jodha needed was comfort from anyone, even if it was coming from the woman she viewed as a second mother. Today had left her with thoughts - thoughts she could not have while basking in the luxury of company.

"I thought I had to come see you. You did not look pleased after today's proceedings and I had to check up on you, bete," Ammi Jaan explained, her warm hand smoothening her hair and tucking back some loose strands.

"I appreciate the gesture, Ammi Jaan," she said, her heart breaking at the thought that she would have to risk offending the woman before her with her next words. "I really do but I need to be by myself at this moment."

Ammi Jaan's hand fell by her side, a nod of understanding following after. Jodha's heart pricked with guilt as she brought her hand forward to hers.

"Ammi Jaan," she said, softly. "Why isn't he more like you? The kindness of your heart shines through yet his is so calloused, how is that possible?"

The older woman's face fell, sorrow and guilt showing through her facial expression as she let out a sigh. There was so much Jodha could read - regret being the predominant emotion. Was there more than what met the eyes regarding Jalal's relationship with Ammi Jaan?

"A person may look like their parents but their outlook depends more on how they were brought up," she hesitantly replied, her eyes tearful and her voice shaky. "I am at fault for the way Jalal is now. If I had been with him during his early childhood years, maybe he would be a different man than he is today."

Did that explain his coldness? The formality with which he addressed Ammi Jaan? Whereas he saw Maham Anga as his real mother, calling her "Badi Ammi" which to her understanding meant "older aunt", he merely called his own mother by her title as if she was a distant figure to him.

Her eyes watered as she regarded Ammi Jaan. Maybe her actions then were not for the best but who was Jodha to judge her? She had the privilege of living in relative peace, Ammi Jaan, from the accounts she gave in Gulbadan Begum's hojra, had to seek refuge in a small Rajput kingdom.

Her arms wound around Ammi Jaan as she found herself empathizing with the older woman. Would she have acted any better if she was in her shoes?

After a while, both women parted with Ammi Jaan patting Jodha's head, "Allah aap ko khush rakhe, bete. I'll take my leave now. Khuda hafiz."

Just like that, she was alone but now with the realization that her hojra was the last place for the solitude she needed. There was only one place left, she thought as she took off most of her jewelry and her pallu.

It was a risque endeavour given the laws and customs of this place, so she went with a dupatta which was more opaque than what she would usually don, wrapping it around herself. It was long enough to cover her hair as well as conceal her midriff as the last thing she needed was getting lectured by Maham Anga or worse, him.

Then, she strode out of her chambers, but not before informing Moti of her location, her thoughts as her sole companion as she moved to her destination.

The hamaam was thankfully empty with no one to bother her. With a deep sigh of relief, she took off her dupatta, making her way over to the calm waters. The varying scents from the fragrances helped calm her as she sat by the pool before dipping her feet into the cold water.

Her eyes sealed shut from the sensation and she allowed her mind to wander again. Now alone, she found herself facing the reality she had never noticed until now - how her fellow Hindus were treated here in Agra.

It had all started within the Diwan-e-Aam where Jalal called forth the first plaintiff. It was a family of three: a man, a woman and a little boy.

The man looked ruffled - a sign of struggle, possibly with the soldiers. His face bore cuts, some of which were bleeding. His eyes were dull as he paid his respect to the Shehenshah before him.

It wasn't just him, even his wife looked dishevelled, dirt marked her face and her clothes. Jodha could only hold her breath in horror at what this family could have gone through in the hands of the soldier as the little boy was not well off either.

"State your case," Jalal had said, his voice neutral as the man stepped forward.

State your case?! She wanted to yell out but her etiquette on royal court proceedings held her back as she observed the scene carefully.

"I have a complaint, Shehenshah. I am a humble farmer, working to provide for a family of four," the man stated. "My dadi jaan raised me - took to farming even with her finger joints stiff with arthritis till I was old enough to sustain us all. For years, I have made an honest living of providing for my family and I have always performed my civil duties."

Maham Anga shortly cut in, her tone sharp and impatient as she snapped at the man, "Keep it brief and stop wasting our time!"

The man only ignored her as his attention was on the emperor who nodded at him to proceed.

"Only recently did I default in paying my taxes. My son here," he gestured toward the young boy who did not look any older than eight. "Had fallen ill a few moons ago. It fell upon my wife to take on my duties as I went from town to town, seeking a healer who would help my son with the little out of my income."

"Hmm," Jalal hummed as if this were just some readings he was made to read rather than the welfare of his people. "What happened next?"

"When I got back, it was like coming to hell," the man narrated, his head up showing the grief in his eyes. "Your men had shown up, demanding taxes from my wife. It turns out it was not for administrative taxes alone but religious taxes as well. It was horrible to watch."

It was almost then Jodha started to put two-and-two together. The man had said they were a family of four, hadn't he? Yet, three stood before Jalal in the Diwan-e-Aam. Could it be that-?

"My dadi jaan was shoved to the ground by one of your men, cracking her neck and she died on impact. All because of this religious tax imposed on us," the man's voice wavered as he was driven to tears. "Tell me, Shehenshah, why are we Hindus forced to pay religious taxes in our own land? Our motherland? Our ancestral home?"

The court fell silent at the blatant defiance and the bravery of this man to display such before their Shehenshah and Maham Anga was about to cut in when Jalal silenced her with a hand raised.

"To answer your question," he started off, his voice cold as if he had not just heard this man narrate how his dadi jaan had been killed by one of his soldiers. "The religious tax is an obligation from dhimmis to the state itself; to guarantee the loyalty of dhimmis to the Mughal Sultanate in exchange for protection. If you have a problem with that, the solution is that easy."

What?!

While it was no surprise to Jodha that she might as well have been married to the devil himself, this was...cruel. Not even the devil would be this callous. And she is not the only one to think this way either.

"Protection?!" The man bellowed, forgetting himself. Or maybe he did not. Maybe this was a man who had nothing to lose. His freedom or his life, at least, he would be exempt from the torture of paying jizya. "What protection?! Because of your men, my dadi jaan lies as ashes in an urn. This land is my ancestral home, my people lived without the burden of paying jizya until your people invaded our homeland, labelled us as 'dhimmis' and forced us to pay taxes for the sin of not being Muslims."

Oh, hell-, Jodha flinched at how dead silent the Diwan-e-Aam was. The possibility of this ending well was in hell, Jalal's face fixed into a deadly glare at this man who looked on, weary by all this. A few tears rolled down her face at the sight of this, if only there was a way she could help him and his family.

"Tell me, Shehenshah, what protection is there if we are treated unfairly despite being law-abiding citizens of this empire?"

Not wasting further time, Maham Anga yelled out, disdain dripping from her, "Sipahi! Seize him, take him to the dungeons and lash him thirty times for his insolence."

The soldiers came forward, holding the man by his arms, with no complaints from him as he was about to be dragged away when his wife stepped in, her arm out to stop him

"Please, Shehenshah! Please, forgive him, he speaks from a place of grief, please!" Tears rolled down from the woman's cheek from the bleak fate her husband was about to face.

"But why?" The jallad taunted as he stared down at her. "The jizya was set up because Mughal soldiers lay down their lives to protect you ingrates. Since the rule of my grandfather, Shehenshah Zahir ud-Din Muhammad Babur, Hindus have paid this tax without complaint but now, you people seem to complain about it?"

"You married a Hindu Rajkumari, Shehenshah, does she also have to pay jizya?" The woman questioned, her glance veering towards Jodha behind the pardah.

Oh, Kanha, she swore to herself. No one had to look extra hard for her as she stood out in her Rajput attire - a deep blue brocade ghagra choli which she had found appealing this morning. Never had she been more uncomfortable with the stares everyone in the court served her. Worse was the one he gave her, if looks were enough to kill, she would have disintegrated from the intensity of his glare.

"She was not forced to change her religion, yet we are? Tell us, Shehenshah, what injustice is this?"

If Jalal was angry then, he was incensed now, his rage making him stand abruptly to his height as he ordered her arrest as well as that of the child in a cold voice.

"Let this serve as a cautionary tale for the people of Hindustan," he warned in a chilling voice. "Whoever dares question the emperor and his decisions would meet a fate so horrible they'd only pray for the sweet release of death."

All that was left was the little boy who could not do anything but helplessly tail behind his parents. Jodha's shoulders slumped in helplessness as the family was dragged away with Jalal calling for the next case.

It was then she heard Ruqaiya make a comment which was enough to add fury to the list of raging emotions she was feeling at this moment.

"Take a look, Begum Jodha," she sneered at her, gesturing back to the Diwan-e-Aam. "This is just an example of how Jalal deals with insolent Hindus. Keep this in mind and fall in line, for the Mughals rule Hindustan, not a measly Hindu."

Jodha fought the urge to talk back, her hands gripping tightly on her ghagra as she willed herself to remain in this hellish farce of a court hearing until it was over.

Now that she was alone with her thoughts in this hammam, she could not help but wonder how long this had been going on.

Her legs pruned from being soaked for a long time in the water as she pulled them out. Slowly getting up on her feet, she walked over to the divan where her dupatta lay, sitting on it as she slowly wiped her feet.

How could she have been so blind to the reality of how her fellow Hindus lived? Was she so out of touch due to her privilege of being his begum that she could not see it?

The first time Ammi Jaan had shown her the Diwan-e-Aam, her intuition had told her that there would be only injustice but she had not believed it to be this bad.

"You married a Hindu Rajkumari, Shehenshah, does she also have to pay jizya?" the woman had asked and this forced Jodha to reflect on when last she had been made to pay any religious tax throughout her stay in Agra.

Even when she and Maa Sa had offered puja at the mandir, no one had stopped her for jizya. How could she live in luxury when a Hindu family sat in jail for daring to question the injustice they had just faced?

In the middle of her introspection, her ears picked up a sound from outside. Someone was here, it seemed. Footsteps drew closer into the hammam and without turning back, she spoke up.

"I told you I needed to be alone, Moti," her hands worked on patting her feet dry as she sighed in frustration. Just a moment of solitude, was that too hard for anyone to grasp?

"It is a good thing I am not your bandhi, isn't it?"

Her eyes widened as her back straightened at the voice of none other than the last person she needed to be with. What was he doing here?

"I was not expecting you," she said, putting her feet down on the floor. Her hands reached out for her dupatta, prepared to cover up. Despite being clothed, she felt naked underneath his stare which she could only feel instead.

He said nothing in response and she was able to wrap the shawl around her shoulders before standing up to face him. More than ever, she wished she could read minds as she was faced with a deadpan-looking Jalal.

"Why are you here?"

"I would ask you the same but it would seem a foolish question now, wouldn't it?" The barb was not lost on her, her eyes narrowing as she sought to leave him but his arm reached out to grab her faster than she could think. "I did not say you could leave," he said through gritted teeth.

"What do you want from me?" She shot back, matching his energy.

"The shahi farman, take it," he wasted no time in his response.

Jodha exhaled as she prepared herself to repeat the same speech which was almost turning into a mantra with how frequently she has been saying it these past few months.

"And I told you I have no need for your gift."

She had only played for the honour of her people. If Begum Ruqaiya had won, only Kanha knew what humiliating terms she'd have to fulfil. It was bad enough that some of the people here gleefully laid in wait in case they could see her reputation dashed to the ground.

"Have you any idea how insulting it is to refuse a gift, especially when it comes from the emperor himself?" He was close now, way too close that she could feel his warm breath against her cheek.

"If only you had any idea how pathetic it is to force a gift on someone who has no need for one," she drily responded.

That only managed to tick him off as his grip got tighter and she could only wince. This was sure to leave bruises for her to deal with the next day.

"I do not know what game you are trying to play here, but I am going to ask that you drop it or else-. You have no idea what I am capable of."

She scoffed, almost about to roll her eyes at how predictable he was becoming with his threats these days.

"Let me guess what is new here," she gave him a mocking smile. "You're going to march into Amer with your soldiers and raze it to the ground? Or you're going to slaughter every one of my family? Oh, wait," she beamed sardonically as if struck with an idea. "You are going to rally off my family and throw them all into jail! Tell me, Shehenshah, what other weapons do you have in your arsenal?"

His hand left her arm, going straight for her neck as he held her. This was also getting old.

"You insolent-."

"Release me," she let out steadily, staring at him without fear of him potentially strangling her. It was no secret now that he hated her but death was one sweet luxury he would not accord her. Not right now, at least.

After all, his need to torture her to the best of his satisfaction hinged on her continued existence.

"I am Shehenshah-e-Hindustan; you do not command me."

"And I am Registan ka Gulab, you do not command me either," her eyes blazed as she glared at him. "Release me right now."

He scoffed, a deep condescending look directed at her as he released her before stepping back. Her hands were now pulled on her dupatta, and she adjusted it back on her shoulders as she wrapped it around her.

Not wanting to spend any more seconds before the suffocating presence of this unbearable man, she walked past him before he stopped her with his voice.

"You are still going to take that shahi farman, regardless."

She could tell him to shove it where the sun doesn't shine but it would not be befitting of a woman of her status.

So instead, she replied, "I am not interested in collecting gifts from a man who delights in taking away from others."

With that, she walked out of the hamaam, her heart pounding out of her chest.

So much for solitude.

Jalal stood aloof, his hands behind his back as Abdul delivered the details of his mission in Kabul. His face strained with frown lines with every word that came out of the man's lips.

This day just seemed to take a turn for the worse, for not only did he have to deal with an insolent Hindu family who dared question the rules the Mughal Sultanate abided by, he also had to deal with the obstinacy of his Rajput queen - that stubborn thorny rose.

Everything about her drove him to his tipping point just as much as they intrigued him. Never had anyone been bold enough to refuse his grant for three months now - which she did.

Regardless, he left his farman in her hojra and it was up to her to do whatever she wanted with it - use it, transfer it to someone else or even burn it if she so desired. He would not put the last option beyond her anyway.

With all that, she drove him insane with how headstrong she was. Rani Mainavati hadn't been pulling his legs when she mentioned that and it infuriated him.

Now, he had to finally top off his evening with this as well.

"As of present, the atmosphere in Kabul lays thick with tension and a fear of violent revolt, Bhaijaan," Abdul stated, the man supported by his crutches as he continued with his reports. "Shah Abul Mali remains in hiding as we speak. And from the reports I have obtained from trusted sources, his next sight lies on your throne."

Jalal scoffed as he turned to look at Abdul, "Over my dead body."

He found himself pacing at the implication of this news. Shah Abul Mali really showed himself for the b*stard he was. Yet, according to Abdul, this has been going on for longer, why is he just learning about this? And from Abdul rather than the ruler of Kabul?

"I have to but wonder why this was kept from me, I would have offered my help had they asked," he let out, a frown etched on his face.

This earned him a rich laugh from Abdul - a laugh of incredulity.

"Bhaijaan," Abdul started, struggling to cease his laughter. "I have to wonder if you have forgotten the kind of woman Mah Chuchak Begum is. She would rather fall by her dagger than turn to you if all people for help, Bhaijaan."

Jalal could only let out a little huff at the reminder. Mah Chuchak Begum, one of the wives of his Abbujaan, had left for Kabul following the death of Abbujaan and ruled independent of his interference and assistance.

Of course, people had protested, especially the courtiers and advisors who were all made up of men. To them, a woman ruling over them threatened and insulted the foundations they abided by - especially their ego, so they revolted.

It took Mah Chuchak abusing the loopholes to retain her seat and it came in the name of Mirza Hakim who had been merely a child as of that time, however, two obstacles stood in her way - Munim Khan and his son, Ghani Khan.

With workings of her own hands and from the loyal advisors she had, she was able to seize control by taking over as Hakim's regent.

Till now, Jalal did not see any chance of the woman stepping down by any means unless death took her off that throne. Every action taken against her had been met with severe consequences - one of them being a defeated Munim Khan with the severed head of Ghani sent back to Agra.

The message was clear to all and sundry that Mah Chuchak of Kabul wished to be left alone or else the sands would be soaked with the blood of more soldiers than he could count.

Even now, the ego of his stepmother prevented her from coming to him for assistance. This was a problem for Kabul to deal with, according to her but with Abul Mali's sights set on Agra next, it also became a problem for Jalal - one he considered too risky to ignore.

Not even Khuda would hold him back from killing Abul Mali should he attempt any funny business, behnoyi or not.

"What step do you prescribe we take next, Bhaijaan?" Abdul asked, ever ready to step in for him.

The next step was to be proactive. If Abul Mali saw his kingdom as a prospective target for his treasonous ambition, he could not afford to sit down and allow that rogue to gather an army. The best way to get rid of a deadly growth was to nip it in the bud before it grew even deadlier.

"Get me-."

Jalal was interrupted by a durbaan, the man bowing in apology as he realized he had cut into a conversation that held importance.

"Gustakhi maaf, Huzoor," the man bowed in apology and fear of possible consequences. "Begum Jodha requests an audience with you."

He withheld himself from letting a frustrated groan escape him. Was this about the farman? If so, the chances of meeting the rose were nil, he had to prepare himself for the thorns instead.

"Let her in," he nodded, the durbaan skirting off to bring her in. It was a matter of seconds before she came in, no sound of her payals to follow her.

She was dressed in the same clothes he had found her in when he sought after her in the hammam. And now, he could not forget how she had spoken back at him as if she feared no potential repercussions for her defiance.

In contrast to that, her demeanour held no trace of that stubbornness he had come to associate with her. Regardless, he remained on guard in case she was going to flame him again.

"Adaab, Bhabhijaan."

He shut his eyes briefly at the fact that he had almost forgotten about Abdul's presence behind him.

A bright flash of a smile lit up Jodha's face as she replied with a "Pranaam, Abdul" and that green-eyed beast almost reared up its ugly head at the sight of her warmly greeting another man while she regarded him as a necessary evil.

She even smiled at him as if they were familiar with each other and knowing Abdul, the man was probably giving her one of those grins which would have the noble and common women of Agra swooning for him.

Today had to be an exception for Abdul where he suddenly had a sense of self-preservation with the man preparing to grant them their privacy.

"I will take my leave now. Khuda Hafiz, Bhaijaan, Bhabhijaan," he said, already making his way out, leaving just Jalal and Jodha.

Just like that, the warm smile Jodha held for Abdul fell off her face as she turned to face him. If this was about the shahi farman, Tu Khuda meri madad karo, he thought as he braced himself.

"This is not about the farman," was the first thing she said as if she read his mind and he could almost sigh in relief until... "This is about what happened at the Diwan-e-Aam this afternoon."

And to think he had believed he'd be spared of her speech on how she wanted nothing from him.

"And what about it?" He found himself more defensive now. He should have expected she was here to confront him about the ruling.

"That family-," she paused at first. "Was that punishment not too great for a family who just lost one of their own? That man, Arjun, had gone on a trip to save the life of his son only to lost his own dadi. All because of the jizya."

Her words managed to prick his conscience, his stony heart almost accelerating at this questio but he stifled it just as soon as he came.

Such system had been set up even long before his ancestors stepped a foot inside Hindustan, why should it change with him? Was it not merely a favour he showed to his subjects, jizya in exchange for his empire protecting them?

It even came with its privileges like not joining the military forces of the Mughal Empire - they should be grateful for that!

"I owe you no explanation of how I run my empire, Jodha Begum-," he was about to start but she interjected immediately.

"Neither did I ask for one, yet there's a question that burdens me each time I think about it, Shehenshah!" She stood firmly. "I only want the truth and the truth only from you."

Now, he was intrigued, his eyebrow raised as he nodded at her to go ahead with her inquisition. She looked visibly distraught the moment she stepped out of the Diwan-e-Aam and here she stood before him again with that agitated look on her face - her brows scrunched up into a deep frown and her fingers fidgeting with the end tail of her dupatta.

"Why am I exempt from paying jizya?"

There she was, dropping a bombshell which left him uncharacteristically lost for words as he struggled to come up with a satisfactory response to her question. That question came so unexpectedly that he had to scout his mind for something that would shut down this conversation.

So, instead, Jalal opted to ask, "Why do you ask?"

Jodha scoffed at his obvious attempt to dodge the question, almost coming up with a sarcastic question of her own but she merely answered him, "After that woman, Ganga had asked if I also paid jizya, I thought to ask you why I am exempt from that."

"You are my begum-."

"Who is also a dhimmi, Shehenshah," she shot back at him with an intensity which had him clenching his right fist to the point where his radial artery and cephalic vein grew more prominent.

She flung that word at him in a way that struck him square in the chest. If she was aiming to hurt, it almost worked way too well.

"I may be a member of the royal family of the Mughal Empire, Shehenshah," she went on. "But I am Hindu, openly so. I perform puja and participate in festivals and rituals. According to the laws and customs of the Mughal Empire, I am a dhimmi and therefore should pay jizya."

Where was she going with this? What game was she trying to play here? What loopholes was she trying to find with this?

"State your mission, Jodha Begum," he looked at her intently, awaiting what she was about to say next.

Without wasting any further time, she held her head high with her next words, "So, I thought it would be unjust to bask in the luxury of not paying my dues as a dhimmi while my fellow Hindus are imprisoned for questioning why they have to pay."

Oh woman, how sharp art thy tongue. Far sharper than the shamsheer he wielded.

Also, what?!

"You cannot seriously be considering this, can you, Jodha Begum?"

"But Shehenshah, I have," she gave him a wry smile as she looked at him. "This is not a decision taken lightly. Tell me, how much do I owe the Empire?"

His eyes narrowed, his mind still in unbelief at her chutzpah. Perhaps he was hoping this was some form of joke from her or a way to sway his decision. She was Hindu after all and what's not to say that she did not sympathize with that family?

She rolled her eyes at his reaction, her hands now undoing her dupatta, leaving it hanging on her shoulders to reveal her necklaces on her neck and her bangles on her wrists.

She said no words as her next course of action spoke louder than enough. Without breaking eye contact, she took off the necklaces, carefully placing them on his end table.

When she was done with that, her chooriyan was next, also joining the necklaces. If she had her nath on or the rings he'd often see her wearing or even her payal, he was so sure they'd join the rest. He would not put that past her. The last of them was her maang tikka also on the table.

"That covers jizya from the months my dasis and I have lived and breath Agra's air and enjoyed your protection, Shehenshah," she said, way too awfully calm.

His breath was knocked out his lungs as her hands met each other, a bow from her as she muttered "Shubh raatri" and left his hojra. Unbelievable, he chuckled to himself, still trying to recover from whatever this shock was.

His eyes stared at her jewelry, her message more explicit than ever - she didn't need his exemptions either. But there was one unintentional message she left him as well - there was more to her than what met the eye.

closing notes: while drafting this fanfic, I had decided that there will be certain scenes in the serial I will be skipping either due to the stupidity of the characters (the Adham entering the harem track) or because I thought of an alternative way to utilize them (the miscarriage track), so, here we are.

the title of this chapter is derived from a quote from the Christian Bible "render unto Caesar what is Caesar's" and I thought it would make an appropriate title given the theme. as always, thanks for reading, voting (or liking) and for the constructive comments 😄💜.