akdha ff - the desert's rose - Page 9

hi! thank you for your comment again!

Mainavati's perspective for this chapter is going to be useful for a later chapter where Jodha finds herself in a fix where she cannot use a farman or any other means to wiggle her way out of the situation due to the circumstances (that part in the miscarriage track where Jalal announces he will be going to war against Sujanpur, except that I am skipping the miscarriage track for now). (I better not spoil my later chapter here 😂)

it would be funny to see Jalal's reaction if Jodha decided to use the farman to abolish jizya and tbh, I did toy with that but that would be for a later chapter. I would rather Jodha uses the farman to let Jalal know that she is not just a queen over the Hindu citizens in Agra but also the Muslim citizens and she owes her duty to every one of them.

Jodha, unknowingly, always finds new ways to frustrate the hell out of Jalal 😂😭

hidden depths (🏜️🌹)

opening notes: I suck at writing fight scenes just so you know 🥲

Jodha's hands felt the fabric, the texture was smooth and silky without loose fibres. It looked like it was made with careful consideration from the best of workers.

Despite being physically in the bazaar, her mind remained far away. It had been far away for quite a while now ever since she decided to start paying jizya.

Jalal's brows had raised as his eyes widened as if she was insane for her course of actions but, just as some ladies of the Book had said within her hearing, she was rendering to Caesar what was Caesar's.

Her face fell, a frown marring the typically calm expression she bore with her. The day before, she had taken it upon herself to visit the house of Jai, Ganga and Arjun - the family who sat in jail for the offence of questioning the customs of this place.

Indeed, it was a humble place with a little farm which housed an almost emaciated-looking cow. If this was this family's source of income, it was little wonder why they could not afford to pay the jizya in addition to the administrative taxes.

What made it worse was the surrounding houses, the residents fared no better and when she had dismissed her durbaans for a moment, the words they had told her horrified her to the core. Not only did the soldiers who were meant to "protect" them, they also harassed the people.

"We dare not report to Shehenshah, Begum Sahiba. Our lives hang on a line should we even think of raising this at Diwan-e-Aam," one of them, a middle-aged woman with a little child strapped to her back, revealed. The woman appeared so cautious, her eyes looking around in case anyone was intruding on their conversation. "Arjun and Ganga have gone ahead and look at where they are now."

And Jodha could not even disagree with the woman's assertion.

"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," Jalal's words to Arjun came back like an unwanted guest.

"Protection?!"

Where was the protection for these people if their last resort for hope would not even take up their case and give them justice?

She broke through her reverie as she held up the muslin for the merchant to see. Even with the little trip her mind had taken, there were stray thoughts - one of them involving her current location at the clothes stall. The merchant set down a small book as she stood up.

"Yeh malmal, iski keemat kitni hai?" She questioned, the merchant stood before her, her eyes trailing the textile to gauge it before revealing its price.

("This muslin, how much is it?")

At the reveal, Jodha's face paled as she immediately dropped the material back on top of the rest of the neatly folded fabrics. "Kyun?! Five mohurs per yard?!"

The merchant put on an apologetic tight-lipped smile, "Gustakh maaf, Begum Sahiba. It was due to an infestation of cotton boll blight which almost depleted the harvest of cotton at the farms. As a result, there has been a few supply of muslin and coupled with the increased cost of shipping, muslin has gotten costlier than usual."

What a shame, she thought to herself. How disappointed Moti would be to learn about the recent hike, she had wanted to make some bed spreads but alas.

"I'll take three yards then," Jodha made up her mind, not willing to return to her hojra empty-handed. It was at this moment she allowed her eyes to wander around the bazaar before finally landing on a local masjid opposite the stall.

While not as majestically huge like the one she had gone to with Ammi Jaan, this one still pulled her in, her mind in awe at how beautifully done the architecture was.

It had the central building with two minarets bordering it. The roofs were dome-shaped while the door and windows had beautiful arches adorned with intricate designs.

At the entrance stood the ustadh before a blackboard, pointing as what could be the alphabet or some basic teachings. She could not decipher at this point which one it was as she was barely starting out - Rahim being her teacher.

That was a long story for another time but to shorten it, a curious Rahim had exchanged teaching her whatever he learned from his madrasah for learning about Hinduism after seeing her perform the tulsi puja.

Children, she sighed at the sight of the young ones learning, some of them engrossed in mischief of their own and it brought back memories.

They reminded her of when she'd sneak in some of the prasad for Sukanya, Shivani and Maan Singh during Lakshmi puja while dodging the collective glares of the Pandits and Maa Sa. Dadi Sa and Sujamal Bhaisa were the only ones who seemed to indulge her antics.

Along with the memory brought a bitter smile. Children were the very epitome of innocence - born without prejudice yet very vulnerable and easily impressionable.

It was a matter of time before these ones too would grow up to believe they were better than the people they termed as dhimmis solely on the basis of them being of the predominant religion.

In the middle of her internal monologue, she seemed to notice something that seemed abnormal. Something that had to do with a certain area where wudu was to be performed.

"Why is that area sealed off?" She asked the merchant, directing the woman's attention towards the place where the object of her focus stood.

The woman's face fell as if this was something she was not supposed to witness with her eyes on this day...or any day at all.

Jodha was not blind to how she was viewed in this place. It was more than obvious in fact - from the zenana to the Diwan-e-Khaas to the bazaar. Except for a select few, they all saw her as something that should not be.

From venomous looks Maham Anga repeatedly sent her to the way the courtiers and ulama stared at her like she was an abomination, she stuck out like a sore thumb.

It was no wonder why a common folk would glance at her, puzzled that a Hindu showed concern for a masjid.

"Gustakh maaf, Begum Sahiba," the merchant immediately apologized as she masked her initial confusion. "That area has been sealed for a while following a recent contamination."

"Contamination?" Jodha repeated the last part. Surely something like this should have reached the palace at least, right? "How long has this been going on for?"

The merchant seemed ashamed as she lowered her head, "A moon ago. Attempts have been made to inform the palace but so far, no response. For a while now, the women and able-bodied men have gone to the nearest baoli to bring in fresh clean water for wudu or we would have resorted to tayamum."

That almost had Jodha shuddering at the thought. Also, no response?! She could only put two and two together and realize that foul play was involved. Not even the Muslim subjects got to taste any of this protection.

How many more wake-up calls awaited her here in Agra? She dreaded tempting fate and finding an answer to that question.

She said no more words as she collected the muslin from the merchant.

"Shabh khair."

"Khuda hafiz."

With a simple farewell gesture, Jodha walked back to her palki, with her thoughts for company again. Those same thoughts followed her back into the mahal and into her hojra, this time with Moti as an additional companion.

"That is tragic," her dasi commented, discomfort written all over her face. "And they cite protecting us as reasons for collecting jizya from us?"

Moti curtailed herself from scoffing in case the khwaja saras outside happened to stumble across their conversation. Regardless Jodha shared her sentiments.

"I cannot believe I have been so blind to the reality, Moti," she found herself still embroiled in her guilt. "It is bad enough that we are given the status of dhimmis but now, the average Hindu family has to pay out of their daily sustenance just so they do not get harassed."

"Kitanee sharm ki baat hai," Moti muttered under her breath. "It runs deeper than what we have initially believed, Jodha. And the masjid?"
(What a shame)

How could she forget about that? From the words of the merchant, Jodha could deduce that someone had tried to request an audience or at least written a letter but those two options were rendered inaccessible.

Silence fell upon the two women for a moment as each was in a world of her own. That is until Moti blurted out her thoughts.

"How about a donation or commissioning of an engineer to fix the contamination? Surely they would appreciate it."

Jodha could only shrug, she could do that but would they accept anything from the hands of a Hindu queen? Prejudice had its way of making people act in the most irrational manner possible like turning away help when they were in dire need of it.

Her train of thought was broken at the patter of soft juttis against the tiled floors of her hojra. Jodha's expression evolved into a beam at her visitor. It was none other than Rahim, the young boy waving a scroll and a pen in his hands.

Jodha's eyes narrowed and her eyebrows were scrunched up into a mock frown at his entrance.

"And what brings the legendary Khan-e-Khana into my humble abode?" Her voice took a playful undertone as Rahim took his time to catch his breath.

Jodha and Moti both exchanged glances before focusing back on him.

"Choti Ammi Jaan!" He waved the scroll in his hand again before unravelling it with the pen on top of it. "I need your help with something!"

"Don't tell us you are hiding from your madrasah again," Moti stared at him, giving him her best unimpressed face ever.

However, Rahim only smacked his forehead while shaking his head, "Uff, not that. Besides, my madrasah is only till before sunset. I don't plan on skipping."

The two women chuckled at his answers, Jodha throwing in a joke of how he shouldn't, after all, her lessons from him depended on him attending his madrasah.

"So, tell us why you're here then."

Rahim brought back their attention to the scroll and pen. From Jodha's perspective, the document was blank, just a fresh page for anyone to write on.

"I need a bit of help, Choti Ammi Jaan," he pouted as he pointed at the paper. "I am Shehenshah overseeing a ruling in my Diwan-e-Khaas but I have no idea what to write in my shahi farman."

"Really?" Jodha frowned, folding her arms as she began to contemplate ideas. "But you did not tell me what the ruling is about, surely, that can help with what to draft for your-."

"Farman!" Moti exclaimed as if having a eureka moment, subtly nudging the queen beside her while at it. Jodha immediately turned to look at the woman who made several gestures with her hands and then, it clicked in her head.

"The farman!"

How could she have forgotten about that?! She shook her head at that, a wide smile lifting her lips as she hugged Rahim.

"Thank you so much, Rahim!"

Then she faced Moti, hugging her as well. The young boy stood confused as to why Jodha had given him her gratitude before leaving his blank farman on the vanity table.

"I will come back for my farman, Choti Ammi Jaan!" He announced before skipping out of her chambers. Jodha could only shake her head at his antics before shuffling her box for the farman. She could only whisper her appreciation to Kanha for sending in Rahim as an answer to her prayers.

Even now in the Diwan-e-Khaas, it was getting more tempting for Jalal to slouch over his takht and prop his face up with his palm with how this was going. But even he knew how that went against the royal etiquette of courtroom proceedings.

Yet, why did he feel like he was the only adult amid squabbling youngsters when most of these men were advisors who served in the court of his Abbujaan?

The announcement of Abul Mali's treachery shocked these men and served as fuel for some - Munim Khan being one of them. As silent as the man sat amid the chaotic exchange of words, he still harboured bitterness against Mah Chuchak Begum for exiling him from Kabul and then beheading his son at the Battle of Jalalabad.

The sight of the bloodied decapitated head was a sight horrifying to the people who had witnessed it, not even Jalal could hold his head up for longer when he saw the gory scene as blood dripped down, soaking the sands of Agra as Munim walked into the fort.

Munim Khan had gone into an overextended mourning period, followed by months of chronic depression as it became harder for the old man to overcome his grief. It was a wonder he was able to make it out of that headspace yet even as the man stood strong and alive in his court, it was obvious the governor of Kabul was a sworn enemy of the older man who sat heavily critical of Mah Chuchak.

"Gustakh maaf, huzoor," Munim broke his silence, the court ceasing their talks to pay attention to the nearly greyed man. Jalal nodded his assent for the man to continue which he did.

Surprisingly, for a man who held deep-rooted hatred for Mah Chuchak, his words were calmer than a man attaining sainthood.

"The news of Abul Mali's betrayal has been kept a lifelong secret from us, Alampana," the man stated, his eyes hardening. "If you had not sent informants to investigate ongoing events throughout our territory, how would we have known about the true intentions of that traitor?"

Everyone murmured their agreement, prompting Jalal to steal a glance at Abdul who silently nodded from his post.

"Mah Chuchak kept this a secret from you, for what reason, it goes beyond me," Munim proceeded even though it was obvious to the dumbest of individuals why the governor would choose to conceal it. "Not only has Abul Mali attempted mutiny but he has laid his eyes on your takht, huzoor. Mah Chuchak's silence would have cost you your throne, your life in fact."

The court burst into murmurs again, this time of shock as Munim's words were pointing out one possibility - that Mah Chuchak could be plotting alongside Abul Mali.

On a normal day, one would have dismissed this as the grudges of a bitter old man but to Jalal who had lived through attempted assassinations from his family members, such inference, while heavy of an accusation, did not seem so unbelievable.

By his right-hand side and at the forefront sat a man who had been silent for the most part. This man had served under his late Abbujaan, Humayun, and had raised him for the first few years of his life, his wife, Jiji Anga, as one of his wet nurses. He was none other than Shamsuddin Atgah Khan.

Staying true to his philosophy of listening before offering any advice, the man took all of the arguments as well as the few words of Munim Khan to heart before forming his own opinions and thoughts.

"I believe you have something to add, Atgah Sahab," Jalal called out, the man paying his respects before preparing his points.

"Ji, huzoor," the middle-aged man replied before addressing Munim Khan. "I concur with Munim Sahab's point as well. Mah Chuchak's decision to remain silent with a matter of urgency and importance could have cost us everything and left us ill-prepared but I also want to propose that we give her the benefit of the doubt, Alampana."

Jalal could not miss the glare Munim sent Atgah for that, in fact, if looks could kill, his would transform this court hearing to a funeral. If that was not proof of how deep his bitterness against Mah Chuchak ran, he had no idea what else would present as proof.

"For years, Mah Chuchak Begum has governed Kabul independently without external interference or aid. Could it have been she had chosen to stay silent with the belief that she would capture Abul Mali without our help and deal with him with urgency before we caught wind of this?"

From the corner of his eyes was Abdul again who raised a hand now. A nod of assent was what permitted him to add his input.

"Shehenshah, while I agree with Munim Sahab's point, Atgah Sahab's also holds validity."

The rest of the court also seemed to agree, Munim being the exception of course as the old man narrowed his eyes, his nose flaring like that of a wild bull detecting sudden movement.

"And while we grant her this benefit of the doubt, Atgah Sahab, do we also extend that to Abul Mali to gather whatever ally he has close by and strike us while our guards are down?" The old man's question rang so sardonically and pointedly that the court almost turned cold.

Atgah Khan, however, kept his answers as calm as possible, "Nahi, Munim Sahab. I would reiterate that I concur with you. This is not just Kabul's problem, it has also become our cross to bear. Abul Mali is out there, seeking refuge and possibly gathering more allies. On the other hand, we cannot afford to start a war without receiving the full knowledge of facts on this."

"So what idea do you propose, Atgah Khan?" Munim jeered on. "What solution is wise enough to quench this mutiny before it destroys us as well?"

This time, the aforementioned man ignored him as he turned to Jalal. "Huzoor, I propose we write to Mah Chuchak Begum and while at that, we also put forth an order to apprehend Abul Mali. He is a danger to the Mughal Sultanate at large and we can only afford to be proactive, Alampana."

Jalal found himself rubbing his chin, his next words had the possibility of offending Munim Khan who would glee at the thought of Mah Chuchak finally brought down to her knees.

Never underestimate a vengeful foe, Khan Baba had once taught him ever since he was a teenage boy. Those words rang truer than ever with Munim and if the old man was the kind to act immediately on his grudges, Mah Chuchak would have regretted sparing him as well in this moment.

"If anyone is in support of Atgah Sahab's motion, signify with a show of the hand," he said, finally. A great percentage of the court seemed to agree as these men raised their hands, safe for a begrudging Munim who reluctantly raised his hand at the sight of him being the minority vote. "Then, it is settled that a message be sent to Kabul in my name and every soldier in the Mughal Sultanate be kept on high alert for Shah Abul Mali. He is to be brought in dead or alive, preferably alive."

Beside him was the qasid penning his words down on a farman before handing over the scroll to Abdul who confirmed the words and gave the farman to Jalal for him to sign with his royal seal.

It was then a durbaan walked into the Diwan-e-Khaas, his posture slightly bowed once he was at a sizeable distance in front of him.

"Meri rukawat maaf farma, huzoor," he said, apologetically and with the fear that he may have intruded on an important part of the proceeding but luck was on his side today. "Jodha Begum seeks an audience with you."

The court seemed scandalized as they burst into a murmur and Jalal could only subtly rub his temples at the budding headache.

What was it this time that brought Amer's rose into his court? Was it that urgent of a situation for her that she could not wait until it was over?

Dismissing the court, he nodded for Jodha to be let in. The Diwan-e-Khaas stood empty except for Abdul who chose to stay back. For what reason, it was beyond him.

The sight of the person he had come to expect appeared at the entrance, her steps bringing her closer to his takht. She was clothed in a light blue brocade lehenga choli and a dark blue odhni, a dupatta of the same colour. She was decked with golden jewelry which shimmered each time a ray of light struck them and as always, she managed to steal his breath.

"Pranaam, Abdul," she acknowledged the man beside him who returned with a greeting of his. "Pranaam, Shehenshah," she then greeted him, her voice somber and soft which was a first for a man like him who was so used to her flames. Upon closer look, he noticed a familiar colour and he could only hold back his smirk.

So soon and to believe she said she needed nothing to do with my farman.

"What do you want, Jodha Begum?" He asked as he straightened his posture against his throne. It took a lot for him to not burst into a grin as she extended her hand to hand over the farman to him. Receiving it, he pondered on what request she had laid for him, then, he gave it to Abdul to read its contents.

A moment of silence ensued as Abdul began to read. Noting that his friend was eerily silent for way too long, he found himself losing his grip on his patience as he looked up at a bewildered Abdul.

"B-bhaijaan?" The Abdul who was quick to make quips and witty remarks of his own was lost for words and Jalal could only wonder what Jodha had written in that farman.

The dumbfounded man cleared his throat now as he prepared to read out the contents of the scroll.

"As per the decree of Badshah Jalaluddin Mohammad, Shehenshah-e-Hindustan, I, Jodha Bai, have written down two requests. One, is that a case of contamination close to the masjid at Kinari Bazaar be investigated. The locals have reported that this incident took place a month ago impacting their daily lives with some going to the nearest baoli to obtain water for daily use and for wudu. An adherent reported sending request to the palace but they went unanswered and I wish for that to be investigated as well."

While not an off-putting request in its own rights, Jalal found himself in a deep frown. Why would Jodha Begum pose concern over a masjid of all places?

However, the second request had him up from his seat immediately as he glared down at her.

"My second request is that Jai, Ganga and Arjun be released and their land be handed over to them. Upon visiting their home, I was informed that they are not the only family to be harassed by the men whom they pay the jizya so they can protect them in exchange for their loyalty. I would ask that it gets looked into. Signed, Jodha Bai."

He should have known ever since she stepped into his hojra throwing at him a question about why she wasn't paying jizya. He should have seen this from the moment when she took off her jewelry as payment. He should have known when the kotwal had revealed that Jodha Begum had come to request how much she owed before paying the full amount.

Menacingly, he walked down to her, his eyes staring her down with which she stood her ground, unmoving as if daring him to do his worst.

"What games are you playing, Jodha Begum?"

She smiled at him, her head up as she regarded him. "Is this too hard for Shehenshah? You can tell me if it is impossible for you to fulfill my wishes, I will just ask Ammi Jaan instead."

Letting out a low growl of frustration, he was tempted to confront her in the Diwan-e-Khaas at this moment; it was like her to throw his words back at him and her satisfied pout made it even harder to hang on to that control which threatened to slip. She even had the temerity to be cheeky with her mention of the jizya in that farman, unbelievable!

"Then you can fulfil your end of this, Shehenshah," she replied as she brought her hands together. "Main ijazat chahta hoon, Shehenshah."

Just like that, she was gone, leaving him speechless like she had done that night. He found himself looking at her receding figure. He was left with even more questions which had him miffed and more confused than before.

Everywhere seemed still and calm, the sun shining down on the earth. It was a perfect day for anyone to take a stroll along the palatial terrace, however, the sound of a sword slicing against the air broke that illusion of perfect silence.

Sweat dripped down her brows, getting absorbed by the white cotton of her tightly wrapped turban and her palm was sweatier than usual as she gripped more tightly on the shamsheer in her right hand.

Jodha found herself to be more agitated as she moved as one with air, her movement with precision and grace with every swing and thrust she made attested to the years she spent training back in Amer.

Her muscles burned with each extended second as she lost track of how long she had spent out here. Not once did she think to stop, not even to catch her breath or to wipe off the sweat beading on her forehead. It took a moment before she recognized an additional presence which caused her to pause in her tracks as she felt her heartbeat accelerate from the rush of adrenaline.

She turned by a certain degree, catching a glimpse of none other than the man himself. He seemed surprised by the sight of her with an eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face. Jodha could almost say that he was...impressed.

It was also then she noticed the shamsheer in his right hand and it was then her grip on hers got even tighter. Slowly, he raised his sword, pointing it at her as he advanced.

She took it for what it was - a challenge and who was she to back down from one? She obliged him, raising her sword in response. They were locked in a briefly silent moment, moving in a circle as he challenged her to make the first move, which she did.

He effectively blocked it, metal clashing against metal. He grinned at her with a playful glint in his eyes, "Not only do you play shatranj with expertise but you are just as impressive at shamsheerbazi."

Flattery, she thought as she landed another strike which was promptly blocked again by his sword.

"A good warrior learns how to use the sword just as much they navigate a chess board," she retorted, followed by another series of hits.

As much as she hated to admit it, Shehenshah Jalaluddin Mohammad lived up to the legends of his prowess on the battlefield with the way he moved with the sword. Even as much as Jodha dodged and blocked some of his strikes, he was as agile and unrelenting as she was.

They met strike for strike, the air growing more tense as the two went on. Never had Jodha found herself in a fight as intense as this, even as her arm grew more sore with time.

She gritted her teeth before eventually finding herself backed against one of the pillars. The worst part was Jalal had disarmed her, her shamsheer lying on the floor. Her eyes widened as he got closer to her and the sword hovered the white cloth concealing the lower part of her face.

If this was in a different scenario like the battlefield, this alone was the one thing that would spell her doom.

Her breath caught in her throat with the way he glanced at her face, hazel eyes meeting her dark brown eyes. It was then that she got to see the unique colour variation - from hues of green to pale brown,

She might hate him to the core but she would be lying to herself if she thought of his eyes as anything less than beautiful and alluring as the sun setting down the horizon.

She had been so distracted by his eyes she did not notice him pulling back her veil, treating himself to a full view of her face.

"Mashallah," he said in such a deep voice that she almost quivered if not for the pillar supporting her. Then, his eyes dropped down to her lips which had her heart accelerating in tandem.

What if he did kiss her, right here and right now?

What?! That rational part of her brain, which had been lying dormant throughout this time, yelled at her causing her to snap out of whatever this spell was.

What in the name of Kanha! Had she lost her ever-loving mind to even fall for his charms?

She also noticed that she was not the only one who had been distracted and taking advantage of this knowledge, she gripped the hold of the shamsheer before slipping out of his grip.

A flash of shock crossed his face now and Jodha was more aware of the cool breeze blowing the loose strands of her braided hair. Jalal seemed paralyzed from that shock as he looked down on the now loose cloth before staring at her.

A smile of satisfaction lit up her face as she lifted her sword at arm's length with pride.

"A mistake on your part, Shehenshah," she breathed heavily as she reprimanded him. "That moment of distraction could have cost you your life if this was the battlefront."

He chuckled, attempting to move before she tsked at him. This had him puzzled again as his eyebrows knitted into a frown.

She merely sighed, "One step closer and it would pierce your heart."

It was her turn to be confused as he smiled back at her - not the mischievous ones she had come to associate with him but the type a predator seemed to give its prey before pouncing on it.

"Once upon a time, a man had made an attempt to pierce this same side," he looked down at the sword causing her eyes to also zero in on where it pointed at as she awaited the ending of this story. "His head remains on a stake wherever he is."

This, surprisingly, did nothing to phase her as she was slowly getting used to that side of him. Spending a few hours in the Royal Library tended to have that sort of effect.

"Do you want to know what I told him before granting him the sweet release of death, Jodha Begum?" It was a rhetorical question yet that did nothing to abate her curiosity as she raised an eyebrow, prompting him to go on. "I told him he aimed at the wrong place; dil nahi hamare paas."

Silence passed between the two of them with a few seconds of hesitation from Jodha who lowered her sword, "It would be a waste then, and a sin to kill a man who lacks the one thing necessary to live. Every living thing has a heart so I won't kill a man who is barely alive."

Then, she tossed the shamsheer at him which he caught in his hand. She made her way over, about to leave when he stopped her in her tracks.

"You'd be the first to defeat me, Jodha Begum. I would applaud your strength and thinking but I cannot help but wonder-," she turned to face him this time around. The shamsheer now lay on the floor abandoned. "You could have asked for anything: all the luxuries in Hindustan and as far as the Far East, your freedom from this marriage and my head on a platter. Yet, you used the shahi farman to secure the release of a family from custody and for the welfare of a masjid."

Her shoulders lifted up and went down in a shrug. Did he expect her to explain her reasons for what she did?

"I did what I chose to do, Shehenshah," she could only reply unapologetically and unashamed with her head up.

"Every day is a mystery with you," he said lowly as he took a few steps towards her. "I never know what to expect from you, Jodha Begum. I can understand why you'd request that that Hindu family be released but the masjid-."

She cut in immediately, "Agra is my home now; I am no longer Rajkumari Jodha Bai of Amer, I am Begum Jodha of Agra. The Muslims, the Hindus, they are also my subjects, aren't they?"

He stood silently as if slowly digesting her words and putting them together again.

"One might conquer a nation but a true leader rules over the hearts of the people," she closed off on a concluding note which had him scoffing at her.

"Nonsensical drivel from a naive girl."

Maybe she was naive and sheltered from living in the zenana back in Amer. Maa Sa and Dadi Sa once advised her to make her mark in her new home and she would do that regardless of what he thought of her and her philosophy.

"Your people, Shehenshah," she said instead. "You should try and walk a few steps in their shoes. You never know what discovery you might make. Shubh din."

And with that, she made her way down to her hojra to freshen up and carry on with her day as always.

More than ever, Ruqaiya Begum found herself more agitated than ever, not even since the night at the jashn where she lost to that Rajvanshi begum. This was something she'd typically seek release from with the hookah but this time, it was different as she paced about in her hojra.

Her reason for her agitation? She had stumbled upon an encounter at the terrace, that shamsheerbazi practice between Jalal and Begum Jodha. Even to the blindest of men, the palpable tension between those two was thick even as they engaged in a graceful dance with their swords creating the perfect music.

Glee had filled her the moment Jalal disarmed the Rajput queen of her sword and had her cornered but the resulting actions from Jalal wiped off that smirk on her face just as fast as it came.

Sparing herself of any further torture, she had taken her leave for the sake of her peace of mind. What if Maham Anga was right about this Begum Jodha? What if she was indeed a threat?

Jalal might deny it, claiming that he has no heart until he was blue in the face but like a big cat enthralled by a deer, Jalal's attention went to a queen who ironically desired none of it.

While she was the type of woman prone to jealousy and feeling possessive over Jalal, Ruqaiya did not mind if he chose to spend the nights with other begums or his concubines or even the bandhis, he always came back to her - that was the one thing that would never change.

Not even the arrogant Begum Pinaaz could get him to come back to her hojra consecutively, even if she bathed in a pool with the most expensive sweetsmelling fragrances and acquired the most expensive makeup and jewelry.

Jalal was used to seeing so much beauty, so Ruqaiya never attempted to draw her in with hers. She had more than that as his childhood friend and Zan-e-Kalan. That was how high of esteem Jalal held her in.

Now, with the addition of Jodha, she found herself in this dark pit - the ugly hands of jealousy and possessiveness over Jalal weighed her down with the fear that he'd slip away from her into the hands of none other than the Rajput queen.

This event coupled with some others fuelled that dark feeling.

It would seem that her loss at the hands of Begum Jodha looked like the beginning of the end to her as it emboldened some of the women in the harem to openly defy her commands.

It had started with Begum Ruksaar, the begum's dark kohl-lined eyes bored into her as she openly flouted her order. That and in front of the begum who followed her like a shadow, Begum Nazeema, as well as other begums.

"Pick up the chess board and let us go a few rounds, Begum Ruqaiya," she taunted, lacking any fear as to the consequences of such defiance. "It might be that you are no longer fit to be our champion. Begum Jodha has bested you in that and it could be that you are not really what you boasted to be."

Her fists clenched at the memory. She had immediately shut down that quip from Ruksaar but it did not cease the consuming fire. It would have been better, in fact, if Maham Anga had not come in to stoke the flames.

"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?"

"No!" She found herself yelling out, then, she rubbed her temples. She must be losing it already by falling for Maham Anga's words. A lower begum she could silence but Maham Anga's words lingered like the aftermath of a windstorm.

No one was going to steal that title from her and she'd ensure of that. She could only hope it came true as she held her hand to her abdomen. Her destiny may be delayed but not denied, she will become the Mariam-uz-Zamani if not sooner, then later.

Then, her mind lit up as soon as her eyes landed on a sheathed shamsheer lying somewhere on the central table. It was probably left behind by Jalal on one of the nights he stopped at her hojra.

Her gharara swished as she made her way over. Uncertainty filled her as she looked down at the sword. It was sheathed with a hard coat lined with dark brown velvet material, the surface felt smooth and soft to the fingers.

Then, she began to pull out the sword but it seemed it looked easier than it was. In fact, there was nothing easy about this as she applied more strength in trying to withdraw the sword. Her muscles ached from the effort and a moan of frustration escaped her.

Why was this so difficult?

"If this was the war front, you'd be dead by now," a voice from the entrance almost had her jump out of her skin, the sword dropping back on where it lay.

Was he that stealthy or had she been so distracted in her bid to unsheath the shamsheer?

"Jalal!" She exclaimed, putting on a fake smile as he walked over to her side. Wordlessly, he picked up the shamsheer and effortlessly slid the sword out of its sheath. A ray of light caused the metal to glint at her as if mocking her.

"You are a talented archer," he said calmly and softly, his fingers pushing back some loose strands of hair. "But sword fighting involves an entirely different skill set than that of archery."

His compliments, along with his touch, warmed her up with the thought that at least, she had one thing over Begum Jodha in that case. Her smile turned genuine as she regarded Jalal, "I take someone told you that I had seen you and Begum Jodha engaged in shamsheerbazi then."

He raised an eyebrow at her as if to indicate to her that she was mistaken.

"No one had to tell me, Ruqaiya, your unsuccessful attempt to unsheath this sword gave it away," he then sheathed the sword before setting it aside. Ruqaiya's cheeks warmed at how easily he was able to figure her out and she turned away from him, unable to face him for any longer. "I could teach you if you wanted to learn."

His teasing tone did not escape her and she turned to him with a snort, "And why will I want to fight with you? Only those who hate you would try to fight you, either that or that they are suicidal."

The barb against Begum Jodha did not go unnoticed by the man who only smiled down at her.

"It does not matter anyway," she scoffed at herself for getting caught so easily; it was one moment of falling for her and she already felt like a failure. She was, however, quick to mask that ugly feeling. "At least you defeated her. Only you can put her in her place."

"Do you think so?" He asked with a voice so firm it had her pause in her tracks.

Strengthened in her resolve, Ruqaiya held her head high as she answered him, "You have always remained undefeated, Jalal. What is one opponent that you cannot defeat, even if she is Registan ka Gulab?"

The look on Jalal's face made her waver as it reminded her of a master impressed with his student for having surpassed him. Her eyes flashed with jealousy and dread filled her as she wished she never asked him that question.

"What if I told you she is just as efficient with the sword as she is with a chess piece, would you believe me?" His voice went lower and his eyes...she barely remembered him rendering that look unto anybody, until now that is. It was like a poet finding inspiration in a muse or like a musician striking a new chord as he created a melody.

"Tell me you defeated her at least."

Why she sought after a form of confirmation was beyond her being that the answer was obvious to her more than ever. His posture said everything she needed to know, he could not help but smile as he answered.

"I got distracted," his eyes shone with admiration, a hint of awe in his voice. "Everything about her is like making a new discovery. I cannot help but wonder if there is more to learn about her."

She tensed at that, her jaw clenched as she forced a smile on her face, "You claim to hate her yet you speak in admiration of Begum Jodha. Could it be that you are starting to let her get under your skin?"

His eyes twinkled in amusement as he chuckled at her expense. He was closer now, so close she could smell the fragrance on him. She could surmise that he had freshened up before coming over to her hojra.

"Don't tell me you are jealous now, Ruqaiya," he said in a playful whisper as he tipped her chin up.

"Why would I be?" She let out a huff as she put forth a guarded demeanor. "She has none of what I have; I have everything I need and want - the harem and your companionship. I am your Zan-e-Kalan and your childhood friend, both of which she is not and would never be, Jalal."

"...and I have the blood of Timur running through my veins," she wanted to add as well. It gave her an advantage over Begum Jodha as well but Ruqaiya elected to not say anything to that effect.

As if satisfied with her answer, he nodded at her, their distance growing shorter as he leaned towards her. He beheld her in an intense gaze before his lips captured hers.

Despite this, even despite the mask she managed to maintain before him, only one thought remained constant - the words of that witch named Maham Anga ringing in her head like an incessant headache.

closing notes: this chapter was easier to imagine than it was to write but anyway, here it is 😩🙏🏾. please, don't ask me about any potential plot holes, not even I can logically explain them 🥲😂.

and to the writing blogs on tumblr, I sincerely appreciate you guys for the assistance in helping me draft the swordfight scene because this is one of the most daunting parts I would ever write 😩🙏🏾

I forgot to add this but belated happy Navratri to those who celebrate/observe this occasion. I hope you have a lovely one this year 😄

I also apologize for the delayed update this week.

I was caught up in the festivities last week; so couldn't read earlier.

Awesome use of the Farmaan. Loved that. Jodha is sslowly slowly stepping into the Empress's shoes. And the shamsheer baazi uff❤️‍🔥. Are you going to show Ruqaiyya's pregnancy and miscarriage part?

Originally posted by: AninditaB

I was caught up in the festivities last week; so couldn't read earlier.

Awesome use of the Farmaan. Loved that. Jodha is sslowly slowly stepping into the Empress's shoes. And the shamsheer baazi uff❤️‍🔥. Are you going to show Ruqaiyya's pregnancy and miscarriage part?

hi!

it is fine. even I will be busy with some festivities of my own with Halloween (All Hallows Eve) and Christmas rolling around the corner, so I understand. also, belated happy Navratri!

also, thanks! I am glad you enjoyed this chapter. i wasn't really satisfied with how the farman was used in the serial as it was still used for personal gratification (although still altruistic) and Adham got away with a grave crime 😩😒. ngl, that track pisses me off because of how it made Jalal idiotic and Jodha weak and passive. here, I want Jodha to establish herself as a queen, not just of the Hindus but of the Muslims as well.

right now, I do not plan to write about Ruqs' pregnancy and miscarriage as I plan to use it in later chapters. I want to show an alternative take where this happens when Jalal fully trusts Jodha and has fallen out of trust with Maham (making this scene lead to MA's ultimate downfall). we will cross that bridge when we get there