Akdha FF - Embers of Fate - Chp5 Pg 5 / 12 Feb 2025 - Page 5

Chapter 5

The night stretched over the land like an ink-stained tapestry, scattered with stars that flickered like forgotten dreams. The desert wind carried whispers of untold stories, brushing past the Amer palace where Jodha sat, her mind a restless sea of thoughts.

Sleep evaded HER.

She stood by the jharokha, her hands gripping the cool marble of the balcony’s railing, her gaze lost in the distance. The torches lining the palace walls flickered, their golden glow casting shifting shadows. Somewhere in the courtyard, a peacock cried...a mournful, longing sound that sent ripples through the silence.

Jodha exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to her chest as if to still the quiet ache blooming there. Why did her heart feel like a bird trapped in a cage? The journey back to Amer should have brought her relief, yet the moment she had crossed the threshold of the palace, she had felt an unsettling emptiness settle within her.

Imran.

The name echoed in her mind, each syllable curving against her thoughts like a secret untold. His gaze...so sharp, so enigmatci...had followed her even in her dreams. Who was he, truly? A wanderer, a warrior, a shadow that had briefly touched her path before vanishing into the wilderness?

She didn’t know.

But what she did know was this...when he had turned away, when his dark silhouette had faded into the horizon, a part of her had wanted to call him back. To ask him to stay.

But why?

Perhaps because, in that fleeting moment, she had felt seen. Not as a princess, not as a daughter of Amer, not as a symbol of her people....but as HERSELF.

She let out a soft, almost bitter laugh. What foolish thoughts. He was gone, just as suddenly as he had appeared, and life would continue as it always had. She had no time for fantasies, no place for nameless longings. Her duty awaited her.

And yet, as she turned away from the window, her heart whispered the truth she refused to acknowledge...some bonds are forged in moments, yet they last a lifetime.

♦

Far away, beneath the same moonlit sky, Jalal stood at the entrance of his tent, his gaze fixed on the vast, endless stretch of sand before him.

The wind howled softly, lifting the edges of his cloak, but he did not move. The night was cold, yet his thoughts burned.

Amer ri Rajkumari Jodha, sab jag se albeli…

The song still clung to his ears, carried by the voices of the banjaaras, their haunting melody seeping into his very bones. He had tried to shake it off, tried to tell himself that it was nothing more than a bard’s tale, a tribute sung for a princess he had never met.

But deep inside, he knew.

The woman he had left at Amer’s border, the woman whose fire had matched his own....she was her.

Jodha.

Jalal closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. It made sense now...the pride in her stance, the sharpness in her tongue, the storm in her gaze. She was no mere traveler. She was the very princess who had been sung about in the desert winds, the one who had unknowingly drawn his attention long before their paths had crossed.

Fate, it seemed, had played a cruel jest.

A slow smirk touched his lips, though his eyes held no mirth. The princess of Amer had been in his grasp, and he had let her go.

But why did that thought not bring him satisfaction?

Why, instead, did it leave an unfamiliar weight pressing against his chest?

He turned away from the desert, stepping back into the warm glow of his tent. The maps of Hindustan lay before him, stretched across the table like the veins of an empire he was destined to rule. He traced his fingers along the border of Amer, his touch lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

Conquering it had always been a matter of strategy, a move in the grand chessboard of war. But tonight, as he looked upon the name of that kingdom, it no longer seemed like just another territory.

It was her home.

His jaw tightened. He had spent years teaching himself to be ruthless, to rule without letting sentiment cloud his vision. And yet… the memory of her standing before him, defying him with unwavering strength, refused to fade.

He should have been amused. He should have dismissed her from his thoughts as easily as he had dismissed countless others.

But he could not.

Jodha.

The name felt different now. Not just a name in a song, not just a princess in a palace. She was a storm that had passed through his life, and something told him he had not seen the last of it.

The thought unsettled him.

And so, with practiced resolve, he forced it away.

Jalal picked up a goblet of wine, swirling the liquid within before taking a slow sip. He was an emperor. His destiny lay ahead of him, not behind.

What was one fleeting encounter against the weight of a kingdom?

And yet, even as he convinced himself of this, he did not notice the way his fingers tightened around the goblet, nor the way his heart refused to be silenced.

For some storms do not pass so easily.

Some storms are meant to return.

And when they do, they leave nothing untouched.

♦

Meanwhile, in Amer…

The palace was silent, wrapped in the hush of midnight. Jodha had finally retired to her chambers, but sleep did not come. Restlessness curled inside her like an unspoken prayer.

She lay beneath the silken canopy of her bed, staring at the shadows dancing across the ceiling. Her mind should have been filled with matters of her people, of her kingdom, of duty.

Instead, all she could think of was a pair of dark eyes, sharp as steel yet warm as embers.

She sighed, turning onto her side. This was madness.

And yet, as the night deepened and the wind whispered through the corridors of the palace, a quiet voice inside her heart murmured what she refused to admit...This was only the beginning.

The night stretched deep and endless, weaving a veil of silence over the two souls caught in its grasp....one in Amer, the other in the wilderness beyond.

But silence is never truly silent.

It hums with unspoken words, rustles with memories too fragile to name.

And as the midnight hours passed, both Jodha and Jalal found themselves haunted by a presence that was no longer there.

♦

Jodha sat upright on her bed, unable to surrender to sleep. The lantern beside her flickered, casting golden shadows against the carved walls of her chamber. Her fingers played absently with the hem of her dupatta, her mind a battlefield between logic and longing.

Why was she still thinking of him?

Of a man she barely knew, of a stranger she might never see again?

And yet, her heart whispered truths she was not ready to hear.

The way he had stood...unshaken, unreadable, untamed. There was something about him, something that felt like a secret hidden within the folds of fate itself. He had held himself like a man accustomed to power, yet not ruled by it.

A warrior. A wanderer. A mystery.

But perhaps what unsettled her the most was not the enigma of his presence, but the storm he had left behind within her.

Her world had always been clear, her duties laid before her like a path paved in stone. And yet, one encounter...one fleeting moment in time...had made her question everything she thought she knew.

Jodha pressed her lips together, as if trying to silence the chaos within.

It was foolishness.

She had no time for shadows, for men with unreadable eyes and names that felt borrowed. Amer needed her. Her family needed her. She had been away for too long, and already, the consequences had followed.

Her mother’s eyes had burned with worry when she had returned. Her father had barely spoken, disappointment heavy in his silence. And her brothers...especially Sujamal...had been furious.

"You are the Rajkumari of Amer, Jodha. Not a reckless child who can wander where she pleases!"

She had taken their scolding with bowed head, offering no explanations. How could she? They would never understand what had drawn her away, what had made her stay gone for so long.

And perhaps, she did not fully understand it either.

Her fingers tightened around her dupatta.

It didn’t matter.

Come morning, she would return to her life, to her responsibilities. And this… this storm inside her would pass.

It had to.

Yet, as she finally lay down and closed her eyes, the last thing she saw was the ghost of a smirk, the glint of unreadable eyes, and the name that did not belong to him.

Imran.

♦

The fire in Jalal’s tent burned low, casting a muted glow upon the heavy silks draped around him. Yet, despite the warmth, a chill ran through his veins.

He had faced countless enemies, conquered lands without a second thought, yet tonight… tonight, he battled something unseen.

Himself.

His hands rested on his knees, his body still, but his mind was a storm.

Jodha.

The name had taken shape now, no longer just a word in a song or a mystery in the desert. It belonged to a woman who had defied him. A woman who had stood before him with fire in her eyes, challenging him without knowing who he was.

A smirk tugged at his lips.

Princess Jodha of Amer.

Had he known her identity then, would he have acted differently? Would he have tested her further, drawn her into conversation to see how far that fire burned?

He exhaled sharply. It didn’t matter.

He had left her behind. And now, he would move forward.

Tomorrow, he would ride toward his capital, toward Agra, where the matters of his empire awaited him. There was no place in his life for distractions, no space for sentiments.

Yet, as he reached for his sword...his fingers brushing over the cold metal...he found himself recalling the warmth of her gaze.

The way she had looked at him in that final moment, hesitating.

Had she wanted him to stay?

Would she have asked him to?

Jalal frowned, pushing the thought away.

It was irrelevant. His path was SET.

And yet, when he finally lay back against the cushions, his eyes open to the darkened ceiling above, he could still hear the banjaaras singing.

Amer ri Rajkumari Jodha, sab jag se albeli…

He let out a quiet breath, closing his eyes. It was HER. Definitely. He was quite sure about that.

The song no longer felt like a tale of some distant princess.

It felt like a warning.

♦

Somewhere, far beyond the tents and palaces, the desert wind carried whispers of change.

Destinies had intertwined, and though neither of them knew it yet, their paths were now bound together.

The emperor who ruled with steel and fire.

The princess who defied fate itself.

This was not the end.

♦

The sun rose over Amer, painting the palace in its shine. Yet, within its grand walls, there was no peace.

Jodha sat in the vast courtyard, her fingers grazing the delicate petals of a marigold flower. She should have been preparing for her duties....visiting the temple, aarti, then meeting her sister... But her mind was elsewhere, trapped in the memory of a man whose name she did not know.

Imran.

She had repeated it to herself countless times, trying to make it fit. But deep down, she knew....it didn’t belong to him. He had worn it like a cloak, concealing the truth beneath a guise of mystery.

Who was he?

And why did she care?

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. She had to stop this. There was no place in her life for distractions, no space in her heart for strangers. And yet, her heart...traitorous, rebellious thing that it was....refused to listen

A soft voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Rajkumari" said Moti Bai, her childhood friend and confidante, approaching with quiet steps. "You have been lost in thought since you returned. Is something that troubles you?"

Jodha hesitated. How could she explain what she barely understood herself?

Instead, she offered a small smile, forcing lightness into her tone. "Nothing, Moti. Just weary from the journey"

Moti Bai’s gaze lingered, searching. But she knew better than to push.

"The Maharani wishes to see you" she said instead.

Jodha nodded, rising from her seat. It was time to return to the life she had momentarily abandoned.

But as she walked through the corridors of the palace, her mind betrayed her once again....returning to a pair of unreadable eyes, to a smirk that had unsettled something deep within her.

She quickened her steps.

She had to forget him.

♦

Jalal stood before the imperial map, his commanders gathered around him, their voices blending into a dull hum.

The matters of war, politics, and conquest had always consumed him. They were what defined him, what shaped his very existence.

"Shahenshah?"

The voice of Atgah Khan pulled him back to the present. Jalal’s gaze snapped toward his trusted advisor.

"You seem distracted" Atgah observed cautiously.

Jalal’s jaw tightened. He was not a man easily read, but Atgah had known him since childhood....had guided him, mentored him. He was his Ataliq. He could sense when something was amiss.

"It is nothing" Jalal said coolly. "Proceed"

Atgah studied him for a moment before nodding. "We have received reports that Raja Bharmal has begun strengthening Amer’s borders. He anticipates conflict"

Jalal smirked. "As he should"

His tone was calculated, his expression unreadable. But deep down, something shifted.

Would she be caught in the crossfire?

Why did the thought disturb him?

He clenched his fists beneath the table.

This was foolishness. He was an emperor. He did not falter, did not hesitate. His duty was to his empire, and nothing else.

And yet, as the meeting continued, the ghost of her voice lingered in his mind.

At least tell me your name

He had lied.

And for the first time in his life, he wondered why.

♦

Elsewhere, in the darkened halls of Amer’s palace, whispers of treachery stirred.

Not all within the Raj Mahal were loyal. Not all wished to see Jodha safe.

From behind the silken curtains, a figure watched her, unseen. Calculating.

The game HAD begun.

And Jodha, whether she knew it or not, was at its center.

♦

The empire moved like a living beast....its heart in Delhi, its limbs stretching across Hindustan, its veins pulsing with the constant hum of war, trade, and politics. It did not wait for kings to dwell on fleeting encounters, nor did it pause for princesses lost in thought.

And so, life moved forward.

In Amer....

Jodha sat in the council chamber, the scent of burning sandalwood heavy in the air. Seated beside her father, Raja Bharmal, she listened intently as the ministers spoke of defense strategies and alliances.

“The Mughals have fortified their positions near our borders” one of the generals reported, his voice laced with concern. “It is only a matter of time before Jalaluddin Mohammad strikes”

The name was spoken with both respect and unease. Even here, deep within the heart of Rajputana, the weight of the Mughal emperor’s presence was felt.

Raja Bharmal remained silent, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest of his throne. “And what of our allies?”

“The neighboring Rajput clans have agreed to support us… but only if war becomes inevitable” another minister replied cautiously. “For now, they hesitate. No one wishes to challenge the might of the Mughals unnecessarily”

Jodha watched her father carefully. She knew what this meeting truly was...a desperate attempt to delay the inevitable.

The Rajputs were strong, fearless warriors, but they were fractured, their pride often their greatest weakness. The Mughals, on the other hand, moved with precision, swallowing kingdoms one after the other like an unrelenting tide.

And Amer was next.

Her fingers curled into fists beneath the folds of her saree. She had grown up hearing stories of war, of valor, of men who would rather die than surrender. But she had also seen the cost of such pride....the ruined villages, the orphaned children, the endless cycle of bloodshed.

Perhaps that was why she spoke.

“We cannot afford to be reckless” she said suddenly, her voice steady. “The Mughals do not fight battles for glory. They fight for control. And control is taken not just with swords, but with strategy”

The ministers turned to her in surprise. It was rare for a woman to speak in council, but Jodha had never been one to remain silent.

“What do you suggest, Rajkumari?” Bharmal asked, his tone unreadable.

Jodha met his gaze. “We must strengthen our defenses, yes. But more than that, we must know our enemy. We must understand what he wants… and how far he is willing to go to get it.”

A murmur spread through the chamber.

It was not a call to arms, nor was it a plea for peace. It was something in between....a realization that this war would not be won by swords alone.

Raja Bharmal studied his daughter for a long moment before nodding. “Send word to our spies at the border” he commanded. “I want reports on every move Jalaluddin makes”

The council was adjourned. But as Jodha rose to leave, she could feel the weight of many eyes on her.

She had spoken boldly today.

And in doing so, she had placed herself in the center of a game far more dangerous than war.

♦

Far from the opulence of Amer, in the makeshift war tents of the Mughal army, another meeting was taking place.

Jalal sat cross-legged on a low divan, his commanders gathered before him. The air was thick with the scent of charred wood and spiced meat, the remnants of a late meal still scattered on trays.

“The Rajputs have begun preparing” Atgah Khan reported. “They anticipate an attack.”

Jalal’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “As they should.”

“And yet” Atgah continued, “they have not sent envoys for surrender… nor for battle.”

Jalal’s fingers drummed lightly against his knee. “Interesting”

He had expected resistance. He had expected defiance. But hesitation? That was new.

“It is said that Raja Bharmal’s daughter plays a role in his council” another commander spoke. “Rajkumari Jodha”

The name was unfamiliar to him...or at least, it should have been. But something about it stirred a flicker of memory.

He ignored it.

“The Rajputs will not surrender easily” he said instead. “And we have no need for a prolonged siege. A kingdom is only as strong as its ruler. Break the king, and the throne will fall”

The commanders nodded in agreement.

“Takhliyaa" Jalal declared, his tone final.

The meeting dispersed, but even as Jalal retreated to his quarters, he could feel something shifting in the air.

Amer was waiting.

And so was its princess.

♦

The desert wind carried stories, weaving through the sands of time like a restless spirit. It whispered of kingdoms rising and falling, of warriors who bled for glory, of lovers torn apart by fate’s cruel hands. Tonight, it carried something else....the quiet tension of an empire on the brink.

Jodha stood on the terrace, the moonlight casting silver threads upon the marble floor. Below, the palace slumbered, unaware of the storm that loomed just beyond its gates.

She should have been exhausted....her body worn from the council, her mind weary from the weight of unspoken fears. And yet, sleep evaded her. Her thoughts wove themselves into knots she could not untangle.

The empire was shifting, and she could feel it in her bones. The Mughal army stood at their doorstep, its intentions veiled in steel and fire. A war was coming, whether Amer wished for it or not.

But war did not frighten her.

It was the unknown that did.

A soft rustle drew her from her thoughts. Turning, she saw a shadow emerging from the doorway...a familiar presence.

“Jodha” came a voice, low and steady.

It was Sujamal.

Her elder brother, her shield in childhood, now a soldier of Amer’s fate. He stepped forward, the torchlight flickering across his chiseled features, his gaze unreadable.

“You spoke boldly in the council today,” he said. There was no reprimand in his voice, only observation.

Jodha did not avert her gaze. “Was I wrong?”

Sujamal studied her, as if seeing not his sister, but something more...a woman shaped by war’s impending shadow. “No” he admitted after a pause. “But wisdom and boldness are dangerous companions, my dear”

She turned away, resting her hands on the cool railing. The vast sands stretched before her, endless and indifferent. “We have fought too many battles with our swords, Sujamal Bhaisa. This time, we must fight with our minds.”

A silence settled between them, heavy with meaning.

Then, her brother’s voice softened. “Be careful, Jodha.”

She did not answer.

♦

Far from Amer’s marble halls, amidst the scent of burning wood and damp earth, Jalal sat within his war tent, the map of Rajputana spread before him like a puzzle waiting to be solved.

Atgah Khan stood beside him, his expression impassive, his years of loyalty etched in every crease upon his face. “The spies confirm the Rajputs are fortifying their borders"

Jalal’s fingers traced the inked lines of Amer’s walls, his gaze unreadable. “And yet, they do not move. They are waiting.”

“Their king hesitates, Jahapana.”

Jalal exhaled sharply, leaning back against the cushions. “No king hesitates unless he has something to lose”

His mind was calculating, dissecting possibilities. Bharmal was not a fool...he would not invite war unless he believed there was no other way.

And yet, something lingered beneath the surface, something unspoken.

Jalal’s fingers stilled over Amer’s name. His lips curled into a faint smirk. “Tell me aboout Raja Bharmal’s court”

Atgah Khan hesitated. “His advisors are many. His allies, few. But it is said that one voice carries weight beyond the others.”

Jalal lifted a brow. “And who might that be?”

“The princess, Registaan Ka Gulab - Jodha.”

The name should have meant nothing to him.

And yet, a ghost of a memory stirred.

A voice, soft but unyielding.

A presence, fierce yet unafraid.

A woman, standing at the edge of the battlefield, her eyes burning with a fire that could not be extinguished.

Jalal’s smirk deepened, though his expression remained carefully neutral. “A princess who speaks in council?” he mused. “Interesting...bohot khub”

Atgah Khan nodded. “More than speaks. She is said to be wise, unyielding. Some say she is the reason Amer has not yet fallen.”

Jalal did not respond immediately. Instead, he reached for a goblet of wine, swirling the crimson liquid thoughtfully. A woman who held the fate of a kingdom in her hands.

Curious.

“Send word to our men at court...” he said finally, his voice smooth as silk. “I want to know everything about this princess of Amer.”

Atgah Khan inclined his head. “As you command, Shehenshah.”

Jalal leaned back, eyes glinting in the candlelight.

This game had taken a new turn.

And he was eager to play.

♦

The night stretched over both kingdoms, a silent witness to the stories yet to unfold.

In Amer, Jodha stood before a window, watching the desert stars, unaware that her name had been spoken in a tent far away.

And in the Mughal encampment, Jalal traced the name Amer on his map, unaware that destiny had already begun to weave its threads around him.

Two souls, bound by war and fate.

And neither yet knew that the winds had begun to shift.

______________

Sorry for the boring chapter.... I was late in updating, so I rushed through it. It’s okay if you don’t like this one much, but do drop a few comments....it keeps me motivated

Also, picture credits : @Lashy - Hiding Behind A Stranger

Interesting update dear 🙂

Just loved it 🤗

I really appreciate that you didn't loose the threads of connection between them but most of the chapters was filler

Jodha & Jalal are bound by destiny & I really loved how Jodha has advised to wait & watch for the first move ... The war is near the doors of Amer & she didn't want anything wrong to happen with her people

Jalal on the other side is making his moves & his target is now Amer let's see how both of them meet again

Waiting for more

Thanks for the Tag 😁

Keep writing ✍️

Originally posted by: Gold.Abrol

Interesting update dear 🙂

Just loved it 🤗

I really appreciate that you didn't loose the threads of connection between them but most of the chapters was filler

Jodha & Jalal are bound by destiny & I really loved how Jodha has advised to wait & watch for the first move ... The war is near the doors of Amer & she didn't want anything wrong to happen with her people

Jalal on the other side is making his moves & his target is now Amer let's see how both of them meet again

Waiting for more

Thanks for the Tag 😁

Keep writing ✍️

Thanks Gold. Stay tuned for next

Originally posted by: ekta

You said boring?? NOT AT ALL I loved it 😍 everything is fabulously written ❤️😍

Thanks a lotttt yaar

A well developed historical ff in the making. I love that you're taking the time to set up the historical base of the plot with all the details. Although I'm eager to jump into the main characters' story taking off, having a rounded description in the start is great.

Originally posted by: Vaaridhi

A well developed historical ff in the making. I love that you're taking the time to set up the historical base of the plot with all the details. Although I'm eager to jump into the main characters' story taking off, having a rounded description in the start is great.

Patience girl patience. You'll see their progress soon. Thank you for your kind words :)