My princess returns home after sixteen years.

****

Ishvara peeked out of her palanquin, watching the rays of the little red dwarf peering inside through the maroon curtains. The chilly, gelid morning of winter made the delicate princess quiver.

She hugged herself and wrapped the shawl. "How much more, Shitalaa?"

They were going to the capital of Aryavarta, named Ishgar.

"We haven't yet reached." Shitalaa looked dreamily at the valley being bathed in sunshine.

Ishvara felt a pang in her chest."It feels like a never-ending journey."

The sky pierced through the drape of red and bloomed into a sunflower yellow. Ishvara's bronzed hands were dipped in sunshine. The golden bangles shimmered. "Beautiful." Making them jingle, she laughed like a little girl. "Maybe if the morning is so pretty, the days following it shall be too."

Shitalaa smiled. The wrinkles on her forehead and the restlessness of her timorous stare said otherwise. The sound of pebbles being crushed under the hooves of the horses, the humming of the men carrying the palanquin and her own breathing– everything merged with the silence of the valley.

A tear rolled down Ishvara's left eye.

"Don't. You are going somewhere better and not worse," Shitalaa assured.

Ishvara wiped her tears. With puckered lips and flushed cheeks, she asked, "How are people going to tell my story?"

"Maybe as– Once upon a long time, a certain unloved princess began her journey to a new world." Shitalaa drew circles on her palms, relaxing the bride. "Said to be born of a veshya, she had bloomed into a beautiful woman, and now was a bride."

"That is sweet."

Shitalaa tucked a lock of Ishvara's umber hair behind her ears. "Like you."

In her mind, Ishvara imagined a fairytale.

She was to reach her new home. She wasn't sure if she even had any at present, though she was glad to be sheltered by a royal family.  "Will Gandhar miss me?"

Shitalaa's lips parted, but she refused to speak. 

"Maybe not." Ishvara concluded with a smile.

Gandhar was too cold and dry. The only love she ever got was from her maid turned friend, Shitalaa, and the late Queen Ambalika.

She had to endure the subtle pain of a rootless origin– without the name of a Father, a lineage to be boastful of, yet now she was being married to a man of respectful position.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Everyone knew what happened in such cases. Her marriage was more like a deal between the two kingdoms. The relationship between the Gandhar royal family and the Rajan of Aryavarta had been strained since the plague. Her arrival as a bride in the family of the Rajan would be marked as an attempt in strengthening the ties.

The plague– it horrified her. It was the cursed event which separated her life into before and after– the after that she now lived in, and the before whose figments only remained.

"What does a nameless being deserve?" Ishvara asked.

"You are a daughter of the Divine. Your powers speak for you."

"I don't think I had them earlier. They came after everything happened."

"Only you can know what you were once. I won't lie- I never knew you before. If someday you come across a person who harbours the secrets of your past then it will be of use."

"As much I want to face such a person, I am also afraid of unearthing what was once."

"Fear is natural, my princess. But facing the fear is what you must do now, for you will be the wife of a Senapati."

The Senapati of the whole Aryavarta. A brave and dauntless warrior.

She had not seen him yet– just read the poems praising him, though she had got the chance to see some portraits too. He seemed like a man of pride, high morals and lawful disposition. "I will not dream of a fairytale. The Gandhar royal family kept my severe amnesia a secret from the Rajan and instructed me to never make them feel disrespected."

Shitalaa continued to topple her with a watery gaze.

"I must keep this hidden for as long as I can. I know it's futile to expect them to never know. To expect that they will never ask me about my past. The Gandhar royals taught me fake stories. I memorised them like a parrot. And like a fool shall repeat forever."

"Unless you yourself remember who you were, and you decide to confess to the man."

"I don't know what will happen. If I can remember something significant before he finds out, it will be good. Or else I know I will be shunned. The Gandhar royals will act as if I have been even lying to them, accuse me of committing black sins."

"You think the man is bad?" Shitalaa asked.

"I really don't know." She shrugged. "Whatever I have heard of him painted the man in virtuous tones. He has abstained from pleasures, leading a life of celibacy for a long time. And adopted a daughter to celebrate fatherhood."

Ishvara took a pause, wiping the sweat on her forehead. Why did he have to marry now? Maybe he was still old enough to enter the marital abode, yet what was the need?

Questions thrummed in her mind, getting louder each second until a koel's gleeful call jolted her back to reality. "He is mysterious."

"The Gandhar royals said you were born of a veshya named Bhagvati, and that she left you in the care of a cobbler. You lost everything in the plague."

"I don't know how much of it is true and how much is a lie. But the queen had promised me that believing for now won't do harm, so I go with the thought that yes, I am a veshya's daughter."

"The Senapati himself is associated with veshyas. He has devoted himself to their cause, fighting for them and guarding them." Shitalaa rubbed her chin and murmured, "Connected fates."

"It is well known that the art of magic and all ancient enigmas are entwined with the history of prostitution. Mages and veshyas live together. He being a mage, and even his daughter being one, makes sense that he would regard the veshyas as family. Not many can do that. It thus makes him admirable."

The palanquin slowed down a bit as the the climb got steeper. They were nearing the outskirts of Ishgar. Strict orders had been given by the Gandhar royals to not take the path through the Southern Forest, but to choose the more difficult climb. No wonder they didn't want a bride-to-be to cross the premises of a veshya's house before taking part in a sacred marriage.

But they told she was born of one. Her future husband called the Southern Forest his home. Thus this avoidance seemed strange to the pure-hearted Ishvara.

"I think you had been a mage too. You came to the world carrying magical prowess. That is why even if you have forgotten a lot, this still remains. It's in your blood. In your destiny. And if you are a woman of magic you ought to have a history with the veshyas."

"Could it be that the Rajan chose me as a bride not for him but for his Senapati because we have many things in common between us?"

"Maybe."

"It is very heavy, Shitalaa. This burden of expectations that is my responsibility to carry now. I did not think I will be entering such an important family. That too one whose stories and legends have left a mark in history and will continue to do."

"Are you insecure, afraid that you don't deserve this?"

"Should not I be?" Ishvara whispered. "What am I? I don't even have a record of glories."

"We can speculate a lot. The Senapati, even though revered and a clear favourite of the Rajan is mum about his parentage. He is possibly the son of a veshya too."

"We never know. But what are you implying?"

"What I have thought many a times– somewhere, somehow, you two are equals. He has achieved excellence and created a spectacular reputation. You are on the way to do it. But you aren't equal to the Rajan. His father and forefathers have been kings and generals."

"It's good, in a way. I don't think the Rajan is a bad person, but malice shines in whatever I hear of him."

Shitalaa snickered. "Kings are like that. Someone as pure as you can never be a queen. You need stealth for that."

"Absolutely. I would have been happy farming."

Shitalaa narrowed her eyes, lips curved down. "Do you really mean that?"

Ishvara managed a stupid grin. "I don't want to disappoint anyone."

A jerk shook them all of a sudden, and after a brief moment of silence the palanquin regained its pace.

"Are we in Ishgar?" Shitalaa called out at a guard outside.

"Yes. An hour or so before we are welcomed," the guard said.

Ishvara's heart thudded wildly. "Shitalaa, we will keep in touch through letters."

"We had decided it long ago–" She turned to face Ishvara, stopping mid-sentence, dreamily looking at the light smile tugging at the lips of the princess. "I will miss you, Ishvara. You accepted me as a friend."

She scooted closer to Shitalaa and opened her arms. Shitalaa threw herself in the embrace and they hugged each other as firmly as possible.

"I don't want to lose you. You have given me shelter and love."

"You must go, my princess."

"I doubt he will take care of me like you do, but I shall become stronger." She sniffed back a tear.

"If he doesn't, I will come and be your attendant. I will complain to the Rajan."

"Let us not cry anymore, sister. Let not my fate burn yours."

Ishvara glowed in the beams of the sun. "To Ishgar, now my life points."

****

The joyous squeals and rumbustious roars faded from Aryamna's mind, the trail of thoughts concentrating on the past that almost everyone was unaware of, except a few.

He was now going to embark on a new journey, a new stage in life.
But then, why was everything and everyone so happy? He knew that most of his in-laws were already wiped out from humanity's history by that deadly plague which had snatched away from him his love too.

He caressed the mane of the horse. It was dark, soft and silky. Fond memories rekindled in his heart a candle of satisfaction. He smiled, his cheeks flushing scarlet. She had been one of the best horse riders. He had spent enough time embracing her as she guided him across the fields of Ishgar.

Now, someone else was to be welcomed.

He would never let anyone else conquer that place.

Aryamna looked up to see their destination, the temple, where the marriage was going to take place. The shops were all closed today yet all the housewives and even the men were engaged in a tittle-tattle about the bridegroom. Accompanying Aryamna was Indumala on another horse.

"I guess we are late," he told her. "Many arrangements are still left. I must oversee them as soon as possible and then even have to get ready."

"You can be a little unpunctual on your wedding day. So relax."

"But I am a Senapati, Indu. I ought to follow the rules every time. And I am not sure if my in-laws, the few who live still, would be glad to perceive me as lazy."

"Baba, you are overthinking as usual. But why do you say your in-laws are few?"

"Because they were wiped out by the plague which occurred years ago."

Indumala sighed. "The same one in which I had lost my real parents?"
She bit her lips. Who was her real Father? The one whose seed began her life, or the one who nourished her?

Maybe she would forever be in a dilemma.

Aryamna nodded. "Yes, my gem. But I found you. You chose me."

Indumala had never felt the lack of a mother. Maybe God gave her the opportunity to be with such a good soul like Aryamna, and she had to give up something to gain it. She could never see the face of her biological parents. But Aryamna never let her feel the void.

"You never required a mother. I thought I had given you it all."

Indumala was taken aback by his words. She took hold of his palm, clasping her fingers around it gently. "No, you never let me feel alone and without a motherly warmth to protect me. You can say that to have a mother is my selfish wish."

"Then I need not be worried," Aryamna smiled. "I suppose it is just your wish to have a complete family?"

"Yes! And to see you with a bride." She winked.

Aryamna pursed his lips. He was ready to break his promise of love for the sake of Indumala, but he wasn't sure if his soon-to-be bride was truly happy to be his family.

Who was this princess even?