flashback

Heavy was the head that bore the burden of the crown.

That was the phrase passed down to Bharmal from the lips of his father, Prithviraj Singh. Except he was never meant to be the heir to the throne in the first place. That honour was due to his older brother, Puranmal Bhaisa. As for the then Rajkumar, he was satisfied with supporting his Bhaisa and providing counsel until the Battle of Mandrail which took the life of Raja Puranmal.

It took a series of plots, coups and overthrowing before the people of Amer reached their decision - their choice being Raja Bharmal as their king. He had sworn before the deities and the people that he would protect them even if it meant him losing his life.

Yet, here he was.

He had greatly underestimated the might of the Mughal Empire and that of their emperor, Shehenshah Jalaluddin Mohammad even after the latter had breached what was supposed to be the heavily guarded borders of Amer.

He had underestimated them and now, he was paying for it. His sons, his nephew, his soldiers - all of them were held as hostages by Mirza Shariffudin Hussain.

If he had taken the counsel of his advisor, Jairam Singh, maybe he would not be here in this underground tunnel awaiting Chughtai Khan's arrival.

The older man let out a shuddering sigh at the thought of what he was about to do - the one thing he would have never imagined doing in the many years he had lived. But at the same time, there was so much at stake that he had no option but to swallow his pride and leave Amer under the blanket of the night.

No one was aware of the true nature of his absence, not even Mainavati, Bhagwan Das or Jodha. And he hoped to keep it that way until he came back home, at least.

The sound of footsteps kept him vigilant as his hand gripped tightly on his sword in case he was about to encounter an intruder. However, he let out a sigh of relief when his ears picked up the sounds of chiming payals. It was probably the maids out to offer puja.

The royal women and the dasis had resorted to using the underground tunnels which linked the palatial forts to the surrounding mandir following the war.

Now, Bharmal could not confidently trust the safety of the tunnels as he could not say if the infamous Badshah knew of their existence or if Sujamal had also mouthed off about the tunnels to the Mughals.

His relief was short-lived as soon as he came face-to-face with the one person he was hoping would not find him there.

Jodha.

What was she doing here?

His legs moved a step back but it seemed to be a waste of time when she called out his name.

"Bhapusa," her face lit up with the glow of the torch as she stared at him in confusion.

No matter how many excuses he tried to come up with to explain why he was there, none of them made sense.

"J-Jodha, I was about-."

For the first time in many months, a warm smile lit up on his oldest daughter's face. The next words that left her lips brought back that relief.

"I understand you are about to seek help, Bhapusa," she said, her eyes softer than how they had been within the past few months. "Whatever decision you are going to make, I ask that you make them not as a father, as a king."

His lips curled in a smile as he nodded in assent.

Jodha smiled again at him before moving ahead in the tunnel. It took a moment before the sounds of payals would eventually fade into the background.

Another sound of footsteps appeared and this time, Chughtai Khan made his presence known. Without needing any confirmation, Bharmal knew that the Mughal had overheard his conversation with his daughter.

"You have indeed raised a wise daughter, Bharmal," he smiled at him before leading him to the exit where two stallions stood awaiting.

It took a few days before both men would eventually reach the tent in Ajmer. Chughtai had mentioned how fortunate they were that the Shehenshah was going on a pilgrimage to Ajmer.

He was fortunate indeed. This was the last resort for Bharmal - the conditions Sharifuddin laid out for Amer were a burden on the treasury not to mention the resentfulness Jodha seemed to have developed against him.

That resentment presented itself in a look of defeat and a gradual loss of faith in him as the days went by. It was as if she blamed him for everything - from why Sujamal had to ally with the Mughals, to the death of Raja Suryabhan to the way everything seemed to fall apart.

He'd rather not be a recipient of that ever again.

After a few minutes, Chughtai returned, informing him that the Shehenshah was willing to seek his audience.

Squaring his shoulders, Raja Bharmal accompanied his friend into the tent. He sharply reminded himself that while he may consider the Badshah as his enemy, he was here to negotiate and he had to be careful with every word he uttered in front of him.

Soon, he found himself in front of the man and the legend himself. He was just just as what people described him to be - regal, shrewd, a warrior. The man did not even have to lift a finger to show himself as what legends claimed him to be. Badshah Jalaluddin Mohammad gave him a stoic look as if prompting him to speak.

"Pranaam, Shehenshah," Bharmal steeled himself for their conversation, his head up with pride yet respect for the young emperor before him.

"Adaab, Raja Bharmal," Jalal responded with a salute of his own before standing to his full height. It was almost difficult for Bharmal to maintain his composure before the man who stood tall and proud before him, yet, he persevered. "I would have preferred if you had referred to me as Hindustan ka Badshah."

Still holding on to the little bit of courage he had, Bharmal stayed silent. Regardless of how he found himself impressed by the man before, Bharmal knew he had to hold on to the little bit of pride he had

"Chughtai Khan informed me you wished to have a word with me."

"Ji, Shehenshah," he replied, a slight bow from him before he began. It took him days of repeatedly talking to himself to rehearse his speech before the man and the legend. "Shehenshah, even as warriors and kings, we do know there are unwritten rules to abide by. Yet, a governor of yours, Mirza Sharifuddin Hussain has taken liberties to flout them to the point of making ridiculous demands."

His face fell as soon as he noticed the impassive look on the emperor's face, a dismissive hum from the younger man before he gave him his full attention.

"Tell me, Raja Bharmal, what do you want?"

"My sons and-."

A derisive grin made its way on Jalal's face, the man shaking his head at Bharmal as if the latter had said something wrong.

"Nahi, Raja Sahab, I meant as refreshment. Surely, you have taken a long journey, you must be thirsty," he went on to list what drinks they had and it was at this point Bharmal knew he had to switch to another strategy of his - one which worked for most negotiations.

"Your father, the late Humayun, was an ally and a friend of my Bhaisa, the late Raja Puranmal. He had sent a letter to pay his respects on the day of his cremation and I believe that on the basis-."

He was met with another snicker from Jalal, it seemed this man was not moved by whatever bullet points Bharmal had prepared on his way as he stared back at him.

"Raja Sahab," the younger man said, standing before him. "Once upon a time, a young Rajkumar by the name Kunwar Sujamal had sent me a letter."

Bharmal's breath caught in his throat as he knew what was bound to happen next.

"A Rajput prince had written with the hope of an alliance against his people, Raja Sahab," Jalal rubbed his chin as if in deep thought before maintaining eye contact. Dark brown eyes met a rare blend of hardened green and light brown. "If a Rajput prince could turn against his own family for the sake of the throne, why should I expect loyalty from a friendship?"

If Bharmal hadn't felt defeated previously, this one had him feeling deflated already. He could not let his journey from Amer to Ajmer end up being a waste of time because of the actions of one man yet what else could he offer? Desperation almost drove Bharmal up the wall at this point.

Yet, the fact remained to the older man - they were at an impasse.

"Alampana," Chugthai cut in, a bow of respect before he spoke up. "Forgive me if I am intruding but I believe there could be a viable option - a political alliance of a sort-."

Bharmal's tongue ran more swiftly than his brain did as he immediately refused. There were so many reasons why a political alliance could not work in this scenario.

This did not miss Jalal's attention as he merely raised an eyebrow at how fast he was to say no. That did not offend the younger man as he only shrugged.

"It is fine either way," Jalal let out. "I do not need a political alliance, now that Amer is a captive of the Mughal Empire, everything within Amer belongs to me."

The implication was not lost on Bharmal, his face drained of its colour as he fixed a look of horror but was briefly masked with anger at the fact that Shehenshah Jalaluddin Mohammad would mention that in front of him.

With his hands pressed together in front of him, he said firmly, "With all due respect, Shehenshah, but you must not know us. We are Rajputs and my daughter would not willingly walk into your harem even if you asked. Thousands of people are ready to give their lives if it means protecting the honour of our women and she, along with thousands of other women, would rather walk into the incineration chamber than take a step forward at your behest."

Now, Jalal seemed to take this as a challenge and it took Chugthai intervening again. This time, Chugthai took him outside where he disclosed his reluctance. There were so many obstacles - what Rajputana would think of him if he willingly gave his daughter to broker peace and the release of Ameri captives and primarily, the fact that his daughter detested the Mughals and their emperor.

It took a few words of reassurance from his older friend who walked him back into the tent.

With his head held up and with his resolve strengthened, Bharmal spoke his words of assent, "Main sahamat hoon."

(I agree)

flashback over

Heavy was the head that bore the burden of the crown.

That saying remained at the forefront of his mind, incessant like the mantra chanted at every puja he observed.

Even as he stood before Raja Bhawani Singh of Sujanpur, he could not cease the rapid acceleration of his heartbeat. He wished it was possible to control that one thing but for a man who has had to face rejection from multiple kingdoms in Rajputana, it seemed such was inevitable.

Rajputana still held a huge grudge against him for giving away his daughter, Jodha, to the Mughals. As per the words of Rana Pratap, he might as well have handed her over to Shehenshah Jalaluddin Mohammad as if she were lower than a common maid.

It was a huge stain on their honour, the kings claimed in their letters of rejection, to marry into a kingdom that would fall with their enemies - the Mughals.

Sujanpur might be a small kingdom, smaller than Amer perhaps, but with a family like this, Bharmal stood rest assured that Sukanya would remain in safe hands in this place.

Now, he awaited Raja Bhawani's verdict. The old man sat on his throne, whispering with his son, Kunwar Ratan Singh who was fairly young and looked to be about the same age as Jodha. It took a few minutes before both men would regard him.

They had both reached their decision, resulting in a whispered appreciation that finally, he was able to secure a groom for this younger daughter. With a signal from Bharmal, a procession of guards came in with a set of gifts placed on trays.

"Please, Raja Bhawani, accept these on my behalf," he gestured, revealing the contents of the trays - a sword which had its sheath decked with rare gems, thousands of gold coins, pearls and fine silk.

"Of course, Raja Bharmal," Ratan Singh replied as the men from his camp took the dowry. "I really like Rajkumari Sukanya and I wish to have her hand in marriage."

A smile lit up on Bharmal's face and his eyes watered as he regarded the young man, "It has been a long walk trying to secure Rajkumari Sukanya's rishta. The other kings have refused to have their sons marry my daughter because of Rajkumari Jodha's shaadi. I am grateful you accepted this alliance."

Raja Bhawani stepped in, his palm on Bharmal's shoulder in reassurance, "You did what you had to do, Raja Bharmal. Rajputana sits in judgment when we both know they would have done the same if they were in your shoes."

Left speechless, Bharmal could only put his hands together in a Pranaam before taking his leave. For the first time in a long while, he could let out that long sigh of relief - relief that things were starting to look up for Amer.

Jalal found the raucous atmosphere of the bazaar overstimulating, way too stimulating for his senses. The ironic part of this was the fact he was used to taking in disguises and scouting these very streets while in those disguises.

Today, however, proved to be his enemy. Perhaps he should have gone with a different choice of costume - anything that did not include donning the attire of a cobbler's apprentice with the cobbler being none other than Abdul himself.

Jalal could find himself almost laughing at the irony in this - a crippled man repairing juttis at the Sadar Bazaar. None of that irony was lost on the people who stopped by the stall either; impressively enough, they all left in awe of a job well done.

"When you spend part of your life undercover in numerous places, you end up picking up some skills, Bhaijaan," Abdul looked up at him with a cheeky grin.

If not for the fact he considered Abdul a friend, the man would be entombed alive for that quip.

Regardless, none of that was relevant to his purpose of engaging in this farce.

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

That was the reason for their presence here and Abdul had taken it a bit too seriously by picking this profession as a mask for his mission.

When Jalal wasn't picking up awls and threads for Abdul, his eyes were out for any activity that would seem out of place. He had specifically picked out the market stalls predominantly populated by the Hindu merchants for this.

Could it be that Jodha had witnessed or heard something for her to give him that note of advice? That led to sleepless nights as his mind kept on repeating those words to him like it was a mantra.

For now, nothing seemed out of place, in fact, this bazaar seemed like it was flowing as usual with rows of colourful chooriyan on grand display for prospective customers in one stall. Another had dyes of various colours and leather on the other side hung up on a rope, which had Jalal wondering what poor animal had to die for whatever this was with how horribly tanned it was. There were more stalls in this bazaar, more than what he would be able to describe here but the one thing they all shared in common was their traders haggling with obstinate customers which only served to worsen Jalal's headache.

As soon as he was done with this, he was going to take a detour to Ruqaiya's hojra to get a head massage, anything to curtail the incessant pounding against his skull.

It looked nothing out of the ordinary, just a regular day until something caught his attention. His eyes veered off in the direction of two men arguing - one of them being a trader and the other a Mughal soldier.

It got to a point in which this changed from a simple argument into an altercation - one which was one-sided in this case as the soldier gripped the merchant by the collar of his cloth.

Being an elderly man, the merchant could barely defend himself against the strength of a soldier as he began to plead with him.

"Please, let me go," he choked out as he was being manhandled by the soldier who only scoffed at his attempts. "I will give you whatever you want!"

Clenching his hands into a tight fist, Jalal could not bear to witness any more of this as his feet were swift to take him out of the stall.

"Bhaijaan!" Abdul yelled out, probably picking up his crutches so he could catch up with Jalal who had already made his way over to the scene.

Once he was able to make it there, he separated the soldier from the merchant, placing himself between the two.

The soldier now glared at him, flashing him a predatory grin, "And just who exactly are you?"

"Do you really want to have that question answered?" Jalal shot back, his fists tightly clenched as he scowled at the soldier. Abdul was now somewhere behind him and a small crowd had gathered around the scene.

From the corner of his eyes, Jalal could see the trader getting tended to and it brought some relief to him. The last thing he needed was this insolent bully's attention back on the old man.

"I'd ask you to mind your business, little apprentice. It rarely ends well for people who try to play the hero around here," the soldier taunted him with a lupine grin and Jalal was almost about to lunge at him until he noticed the other soldiers, some of whom were effectively armed.

If that was not enough to stop him, Abdul's voice definitely ensured it was.

"Bhaijaan, please," the younger man was at his side, holding him back.

"Yeah," jeered the soldier as he brought out a dagger from his sash, twirling it menacingly. "Listen to your brother while at it, kafir."

There was a way he said it, like a cobra spitting venom, that ignited a jerk reaction but Abdul was faster in anchoring him to the spot they both stood at.

If he was in his kingly attire, he'd have cut out the tongue of this dog or ordered a cannonball be shot at him, but here, he was just a cobbler's apprentice and was to act accordingly.

Even as that soldier walked away with a condescending smirk of his, Jalal felt his body heat up from the rage. Then, he turned to observe the old man's welfare.

"You should not have interfered, Raj," the older merchant said, tears in his eyes as he tried to adjust his clothes. "That man, along with his men, they never stop. Each day is like this; they come in and extort us of our wares."

The news had Jalal's heart rate spiking now as he fought to curtail his rage which bubbled over like a volcano. How long has this been going on? And why has no one brought this up to him in the Diwan-e-Aam?

When he asked that question, the answer had him fuming.

"You are new here, Raj," one of the other merchants, a middle-aged man who sold leather, replied. "We are barred from entering the Diwan-e-Aam to make our complaints. We tried once upon a time and..."

He pointed at another merchant in his stall. It was a young man with a bandage over his eye. Jalal could only put two and two together as to the nature of his injury and exactly how he got it.

"You never know what discovery you might make."

Jodha's words came back like a ghost haunting him. What more did his soldiers, who were meant to protect the people, do to those very same people?

As he looked down at his fist, Jalal was aware of how badly he trembled in anger. Was this the reality of what took place here every day?

Looking at the people to confirm this, the shared expression they had on their faces was enough confirmation - he truly was clueless as to what went on in his empire.

The thought followed him back into the mahal, making the journey back dreadfully silent.

"Bhaijaan," Abdul's voice pulled him out of his silence. Worry was written all over his face as he stared back at him.

"How long?" Jalal could only muster, his fists still clenching in silent rage.

Abdul's face morphed into a deep frown tinged with an emotion rarely seen on the often jovial man's face.

"Does it matter, Bhaijaan?" The man replied as he set aside his crutches. "Would you have found this out had Bhabijaan not pointed it out to you?"

Right now, Abdul's harsh words were less appreciated, not that it stopped him from proceeding anyway.

"Remember the Diwan-e-Aam and how you chose to imprison a family when they raised a concern? Who knows how many more families and citizens fear the people who are meant to protect them."

It went without saying for Jalal. Yet, it did not stop the barb from hurting.

Ya Khuda, he found himself swearing to himself. What more unpleasant surprises about his kingdom awaited him?

Bakshi Bano came in as soon as she could. Ammi Jaan had called her into her hojra to receive some gifts sent by a distant relative in Persia.

"Adaab, Ammi Jaan," she greeted, her hand touching her forehead with a slight bow as soon as she got in. "Adaab, Phophi, Jiji Ammi."

The three women all responded with full enthusiasm as Phophi led her to an unoccupied divan in the room.

With a contained smile from her, Bakshi took her seat. Today was one of the few days she would make it out of her hojra and it already earned the suspicion of the three women with how frequently she'd make up an excuse - a fever, a headache or a sudden lack of interest - for her not being able to make it outside her chambers.

She was self-isolating and she was aware of how that read to the women, especially Ammi Jaan. She probably thought she was still mourning Ibrahim - something everyone thought she should have gotten over after her marriage to Sharifuddin.

The reason, however, was more sinister as Bakshi presently kept plastered on her face a fake smile like she was one of those dolls sold in the bazaar.

What was supposed to be a ray of sunshine in the dark pit of depression which she had fallen in following Ibrahim's death became a nightmare for her - one she could not wrestle her way out of.

Every day with Sharifuddin was like treading on eggshells. One misstep was enough to tip him over the edge and would end up with him using harsh words against which often made her wish he'd beat her up instead. Those words ended up cutting far deeper than a knife.

Unlike bruises which she could show to someone and use as an evidence to get out of this marriage, what was there to show as proof of emotional distress?

It was almost as if Sharifuddin knew this, hence, his reason why he'd opt for emotional abuse rather than his fists.

Her reverie was cut short by the presence of three of Bhaijaan's begums: Begum Ruqaiya, Begum Salima and Bhabijaan.

The sight of the Rajvanshi woman was enough to bring in a dark cloud of resentment and jealousy. Not even the warm smile on Bhabijaan's face as she paid her respect to everyone in the hojra was enough to shine through that cloud.

As much as Sharifuddin treated her like she was a disposable piece of rag, Bakshi yearned for his love and attention to the point she did everything to get a crumb of his praise like a dog yipping for his master's attention.

Even then, his attention was reserved for another person, none other than Bhabijaan. The dam of tears threatened to burst just at the sight of the woman who had now taken the spot beside her on the divan.

Her heart pounded from the stab she felt as a surge of memory flooded her mind. The memory stood painful yet pushed in from the back to the forefront of her mind like an unwanted guest.

It was just her and Sharifuddin, the man finally choosing to give her a sliver of his affection as he took her on her bed, his grunts loud as he shut his eyes tightly.

She barely got anything out of it as he was too rough and barely paying attention to her pleasure. She would have accepted it; that was until he stilled in her, moaning out "Jodha Begum".

As if cold water had been thrown at her, she went frigid with tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Jodha Begum," he had said during what was supposed to be their intimate moment and just those two words made it hard for her to not burst into tears right then and there in Ammi Jaan's hojra.

It was especially harder when the subject of her husband's lust sat right beside her, blissfully unaware of the internal turmoil Bakshi had.

Now taking a look at Bhabijaan who began to inspect some jhumkas Ammi Jaan handed over to her, Bakshi started drawing up comparisons.

For one, she was aware of the nickname Bhabijaan was known by even from her homeland, Amer - Registan ka Gulab and just like the way a rose was admired for its beauty, Bhabijaan stood out like a diamond amid imitations.

While Bhabijaan was exceptionally beautiful, she - Bakshi - was just plain Bakshi Bano Begum. Bhabijaan had a light tan to her skin while she was pale - too pale, she almost looked sickly.

Bhabijaan's eyes were dark brown and doe-like, entrancing whoever beheld them while hers were just dull gray and seemed to communicate to all and sundry that she bore the burden of the world like Atlas.

Bhabijaan had her unique style of dressing, not ashamed to portray her Rajvanshi heritage to the Mughal Sultanate from her richly coloured ghagra choli to the accompanying dupattas and odhnis. Aside from those were the jewelry which were mostly simple and worn moderately but they made Bhabijaan stand out even more.

She, on the other hand- there was no comparison to that as Bakshi knew she would fail in that regard as well. Bhabijaan bested her in all areas.

It was no wonder why Sharifuddin would look outside for such a woman like Bhabijaan and his words, when confronted, twisted the knife even deeper.

"If not for your bhai, I'd have been married to Jodha but here I am with you as a consolation prize," he laughed derisively as if cursing his fate. "Of all the women in Hindustan, I was given a widow - a used woman - for a bride."

The accompanying look Sharifuddin had granted her that night dealt a final blow to her self-esteem. It seemed that regardless of what she did and how she tried to please him, he would never want her. After all, she was not Bhabijaan and would never be her.

Even as Bhabijaan stared up at her, holding one of the golden jhumkas to her ear and exclaiming, "Vaah, ye aap par bahut sundar lag rahe hain! I think they are better suited for you than for me"

(Wow, these look lovelier on you!)

The women seems to echo the same sentiment too and with a kind smile, Bhabijaan placed the jhumkas back into the box before passing it over to her.

Plastering a fake smile, Bakshi accepted the box. That compliment did nothing to salvage her from the bitterness which slowly took root in her heart. What was so special about Bhabijaan that had Sharifuddin panting after her like a dog? So what if she was the Rose of the Desert?

No longer did she see Bhabijaan as a part of her family, she merely viewed her as a threat to be eliminated by any means possible.

(bonus scene)

It was with glad tidings that Bharmal returned to the palace in Amer and Mainavati could only shed tears of joy and relief as she found herself praying to the murti of Maa Bhavani.

Their search for a suitable groom was finally over and they could finally start with the wedding preparations. Rajkumari Bhagvati had already sent a message to the Pandit to arrange a date for the shaadi.

Mainavati, on the other hand, set up a puja thali before the murti with her daughters and daughters-in-law. Their hearts and minds were fully in deep devotion as they all chanted mantras in unison while Mainavati circled the thali around the murti.

As soon as they had concluded and eaten the prasad, Apurva pulled Mainavati off to a corner of the room and the latter could only squeeze her face in confusion as she noted the look on the older queen's face.

"Maa Sa, kya hua?" She questioned. This was supposed to be a happy occasion but if Rani Apurva was looking at her like the sky was about to fall or something out of the other, then it had to be something serious.

"Nothing seems right about this, Mainavati. I have no idea why," Apurva revealed, her eyes widening in panic. "I had this ominous dream that something terrible happened during the shaadi. I believe Maa Bhavani is trying to tell us something about this rishta."

That was enough to catch Mainavati's attention as she looked ahead at the murti which eerily seemed to stare back at her. If the words from Apurva did not shake her to the core, just this alone had her unsettled.

She had previously made the mistake of thinking she could defy fate and ignore the words of the Goddess herself but she would not make that mistake again.

Exhaling in exhaustion, Mainavati felt like sliding down the wall as she pondered to herself again why things had to take a turn like this just when she thought they would be for the better.

closing notes: think of this as a filler chapter leading up to the next coming chapters. maybe not the chapter immediately coming after this one but future chapters 😄. that being said, thanks for reading and the votes and constructive feedback, I really appreciate you guys 💜