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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why are you here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You insolent-."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for solitude.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Get me-."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Adaab, Bhabhijaan."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why am I exempt from paying jizya?"

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

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

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

"You are my begum-."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Also, what?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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