Mrignayani sat looking at her reflection on the mirror in front, as what seemed like a hundred of her handmaidens were engaged in some part of her, dressing her up. 

Decking her up like a bride befitting to be wedded to the Prince of Mahishmati. 

Her long hair was being dried using jasmine scented incense and her slender frame wrapped in dark blood hued and shimmering amber silks was already encased in a host of jewels. They had already lined her eyes with the customary kohl and the rose scented oils had been mixed into the thick betel juice to make a paste to be put on her full lips. The fragrance of the drying henna tattooed along her arms and legs and the after wash of the turmeric had encompassed the entire chamber in an almost heady scent. 

Mrignayani recalled hearing stories from her old attendant as a small child. Folklores about beautiful Queens and brave Kings, of hideous monsters and wrathful Gods, of fantastical battles and conniving ministers. In all those tales, there was always that one soul who would sacrifice themselves for the greater good yet at the end no one would quite remember them. 

They were all perhaps swept under the whirlwind of heavier actions and noteworthy reactions of the more key players in History. 

She had a strong feeling that she was going to end up being just that. 

In this grand almost cosmic play of events, her role will change the entire matrix of destiny but she herself will be tossed aside after being sucked dry of her usefulness and maybe even her existence. 

What will be her legacy?

Radha was humming a long forgotten ballad which had risen up from the sands of her land, telling the tale of the star crossed lovers, Dhola and Maru. Married as children, separated by fate and joined by their hearts forever. Dhola had crossed the scathing deserts for months, ravaged by enemies, tested by destiny till he could reach his beloved Maru. 

When she was younger and had more wonder in her mind than the usual cynicism required to survive the world, Mrignayani had dreamed of her Dhola as well. Coming to her rescue on the back of a camel or a horse, he will sweep her away from the shackles of responsibilities and hatred and take her away with him to the land of love and happiness. 

Where dreams would weave her life keeping the nightmares away... 

Alas, she grew up fast enough and all those silly thoughts had been crushed and thrown away at the sidewalk somewhere as she walked the path of revenge and duty. 

Her marriage would be a total sham. 

A political alliance for one side and a secret weapon for the other. 

She closed her eyes and his brilliant gaze tore through the obsidian ignonimity beneath her vision like a blinding spear of vermillion fire. 

Those eyes would be the death of her. 

Her husband would be a very tough nut to crack but she was nothing if not stubbornly perseverant. 

She will crack him. At the end. She will have to. She has no other choice. 

The guards outside the chambers made a clinking sound announcing the arrival of someone and Mrignayani's scattered thoughts dived under an icy ocean of calm, waiting patiently till she is alone again. This was a trick she had learnt from her earlier days of studying espionage and the finer if dirtier details of warcraft. 

"Your Highness, the Commander sends his best and a gift."

She raised an eyebrow and gestured for the small chest which was kept on the plate which the attendant had brought with her. He bowed to her and exited the chambers keeping his eyes downcast all the time. Radha and her bevy of companions giggled like a gaggle of romantic fools and Mrignayani rolled her eyes. 

"So, His Highness, the good General, has sent a gift for the good Princess. What may this be I wonder? More jewels? A pendant? Or maybe.. anklets? I have heard they give anklets to the married women here..."

She shook her head exasperatedly at Radha's over enthusiastic tone and mentally begged for it to not be anything ostentatious. She hated jewellery anyways and the sheer amount of them she was wearing at the moment was stifling enough. She couldn't bear to add to that. But she couldn't even disrespect him by not wearing. 

Rock and a hard place.. as usual.

She opened the chest amidst soft gasps and a curious teetering and felt her heart jump at the sight of what actually lay inside, wrapped in the red velvet silk. 

Mrignayani was awestruck. 

It was a dagger. 

The most beautiful specimen of metallurgy and craftsmanship that she had ever seen before. The Royal insigna of the Noble House of Mahishmati was engraved into the hilt studded with small emeralds and diamonds. The scabbard was an ornamental yet light piece, perfect for swift handling. The blade glinted off the setting sun with a lethal strike and Mrignayani could almost sense the smooth buttery way it can make into the human body, cutting through a lesser made armour, the heavier fabric beneath and tough battle hardened skin. 

It was a sight for sore eyes. A warrior's ultimate dream. A perfect gift for a swordsman or woman in this case. 

She loved it. 

She took it out and smirked lightly before tucking it inside the waist band of her skirt, hiding it inside its numerous heavily embroidered folds. The cold metal touched her skin slightly and she almost shivered. It felt like something was beginning to click back in place and she couldn't figure out what. 

Radha didn't look very pleased with the addition to her trousseau. She gave her a disheartened look and went back to arranging the flowers in her hair, pulling the heavy locks up to tie them in a thick braid.  

"Not a very thoughtful gift now is it? But then, what would the poor General know of women and their desires."

Mrignayani felt her lips pull up in a shockingly genuine smile as she recalled the almost stricken look in Bhallaladeva's eyes from the previous night, as he had bid her goodnight after her rather bleak declaration. 

"On the contrary my dear sakhi, it is a very flattering gift. When the Prince of a Kingdom gives a sword with their Royal family's symbol engraved on it to anyone, it signifies a mark of loyalty... of eternal faithfulness to that person." 

Instead of gifting her with anklets which would have bound her feet down, he has given her a weapon instead, which can tear into anyone with ease, telling her to carve a path of her own even if it means leaving dead bodies on her wake, spilling blood as she goes.

--------------------------------------------------

Bhallaladeva was feeling rather merciful towards his younger cousin that night so he decided against skewering the Rajguru - the Head Pandit with the next sharp object he could find. That old coot was really getting on his nerves, reciting a thousand mantras and asking him to do a million ludicrous things while they waited for the bride's arrival. 

The inner courtyard of the Palace had been lit with a gazillion diyas, resplendent with marigolds and tube roses, sprinkled with frangipanis and rose petals, teeming with the gold studded court of Mahishmati and his so called family. 

He could see his father already in his cups, leaning red faced at his seat, resembling a gargantuan crocodile while his mo--- the Queen Mother was seated straight backed and determined, holding his still miniscule nephew on her knee. Kattappa was standing like a sentinel beside Sivagami, his hawk like eyes keeping a watch on everyone as usual. His so called uncle was unhealthily paranoid. 

Amarendra and Devasena were seated together, oddly giggling into each other's ears and blushing like a pair of newly weds themselves. 

Bhallaladeva felt a twinge of envy in his heart which immediately got flooded with a pang of sorrow and he immediately averted his gaze to stare into the yellow crimson tongs of the flames rising from the havan kund instead. 

He had often wondered how would it feel to have a lover? 

To have someone in your corner, someone with whom you can share everything, someone who could bear your tantrums and still want to be with you, someone who wouldn't judge you every second.

Someone who could love even a monster like him. 

Would he have turned out to be a less bitter person, more humane, had he also found someone, he could have loved, like Bahubali loves Devasena?

All his questions will have to remain unanswered for this life at least, it seemed. 

The previous night, the Princess had very clearly enumerated that this was nothing but an alliance which she had agreed to, only in desperation. Just like him. Both of them were only trying to save their respective Empires. Buried under the duties given to them by their Kings. 

But he felt like, they could at least be cordial to one another, and dare he hope.. friends maybe, in the deep distant future. He has seen what a forced marriage turns out like and he has no wish to have history repeat itself. He would sooner gut himself with his own dagger than turn into that abusive toxic creature he calls father. 

"Her Highness, Rajkunwari Mrignayani!"

The guard called out breaking Bhallaladeva's internal musings sharply and he whipped his head up so fast that he was afraid he had given himself whiplash. He could feel his throat instantly dry up the moment his eyes met hers from across that distance of thirty feet. 

It seemed all the surrounding glamour of the entire court instantly faded out in her presence. She made even the brilliantly lit torches pale in comparison. Wrapped in blood and gold, she strode confidently towards him, her feet not faltering for a second, that head proudly set straight, hinting at only a smidge of arrogance. She didn't let their eye contact break for even a second. 

Even the air seemed to hold onto its breath as Princess Mrignayani crossed the entire path to reach the podium that had been constructed at the centre. 

Only when they were almost face to face, did he break the eye contact and caught sight of his dagger glittering magnificently in her waist and his heart did a silly cartwheel inside his chest. She smiled lightly, folded her hands and bowed to him, as gracefully as a dipping swan would.

He reciprocated almost in a trance, not noticing how she didn't bother bowing to anyone else even if she acknowledged all the elders, the King and the Queen with her hands folded. Her spine though had become straight as an unbendable line. 

She didn't bow anymore. Not even to the Rajmata. 

He gave her his hand hesitantly and she placed hers over his, without missing a beat. This was the first time they had touched each other physically and it felt like a jolt of electricity had travelled through their entire bodies simultaneously. 

"Your Highness, please take a seat. The auspicious hour will start any time soon."

The Rajguru's gravelly deep voice brought them back to the earth and Bhallaladeva struggled to remember why he was supposed to feel merciful towards his cousin and not murder their apparently revered Pandit. Mrignayani came at his side and they took their seats while the rituals began in full fervour. 

Throughout the hours of monotonous rites and pujas, Bhallaladeva could feel the ever present tension increase between them till the point where he could almost feel a physical force pumping around him, trying to squeeze him inwards from all sides, as if he had been transported to a vacuum. As opposed, Mrignayani looked very calm and he had no idea what were the thoughts circling her mind. 

She was perhaps the first woman who appeared almost like a sphinx to him. He had a reputation of seeing through people like they were made of glass and this quality of his had saved his neck and that of the King's, many a times from many a conspiracy. 

But for the first time he couldn't see through. 

He couldn't read her. 

And that thought was twisting his stomach into nervous knots. 

They stood up for the seven rounds around the holy fire and dutifully went along with everything that was told to them. It looked like a process on automation performed by a pair of machines. None of their inner turmoil was visible to the audience at all. They looked unnaturally inanimate and the belief that this was nothing more than a business transaction became stronger in everyone's minds. 

But no one could deny that they made a rather handsome couple. It was like the Gods above had physically structured both the Elder Prince and the Princess to be each other's perfect counterpart. 

The General was looking no less fierce than he usually did, but the gold bordered cream white silk seemed to have softened his cuttingly chiselled features slightly. And whoever had done his hair seemed to know their trade pretty well. The open curls fluttering in the night breeze gave his dangerously stoic face a more boyishly charming appeal. 

He almost looked like twenty five again, more free and still full of life. Not that hollow shell of poison which the past five years had turned him into. 

The Princess was looking radiant. It was turning out quite hard for the men to keep their eyes to themselves. The urge to stare obsessively at her flawless beauty had bordered on the edge of being disgustingly disrespectful. It was suicidal, eyeing the wife of the General, but the more baser instincts of men had always broken through the barriers set by decent society. 

The whispered tales of how a woman's bewitching looks have led to even Gods lose their minds had started to seem painfully real. 

"They look so beautiful together...don't they?"

Amarendra whispered to his wife who was trying to put a now slightly irritated Mahendra to sleep in her arms. Devasena looked back up and saw her brother in law smoothly tie the black beads around the Princess's neck, expressionlessly and smiled. 

"Wait till they realise that themselves and then....the real fun will begin.", She smirked mischievously making her husband shake his head amusedly. 

"Sometimes you scare me wife."

"The whole point of marriage husband."

"Now I am feeling sad for Anna."

Devasena giggled and entwined her pinky finger with Bahubali and looked back at the proceedings with a half hearted interest. She was glad nothing had gone wrong till now and the ritual was almost at its end. 

"My Prince, please put the vermillion on the Princess's forehead."

Bhallaladeva pinched the red powder supplied to him from the side by an attendant and turned towards Mrignayani. She turned obligingly and Devasena pushed a now half asleep Mahendra into a slightly stunned Amarendra's arms and walked hurriedly towards the podium. She went behind her new sister in law and pulled up her heavy maangtika so that her brother in law could fill the partition properly. 

"The groom's sister is the one who does it."

She informed everyone matter of factly even though she knew everyone had caught the meaning behind the gesture anyways. Even though her exasperatingly unmoved brother in law didn't even tweak his dead pan expression on his poker face, she could spot the hint of affection slightly softening the edges of his eyes. 

And truly, that was enough. 

Mrignayani closed her eyes feeling the vermillion settle on her partition and swallowed back a tidal wave of a confusing multitude of emotions which was threatening to wrack her frame. 

"The rituals are completed Your Majesties, may the Lord Shiva, Gauri and Vishnu bless you both and the next seven lives you will spend together..."

She was married. 

To the Commander General and Elder Prince Regent of Mahishmati. 

The first phase of her mission was complete. 

Yet she had no idea why it felt like she had failed to look at something far more important. Something which will ultimately flip her fate in a completely new direction that what she has designed for herself. 

After all the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.