opening notes: lkdaswani's The Satan and His Lilith in "Fitoori" inspired this chapter's titling. that, and my minor in biology. so, y'all know how Jodha is called the "Registan ka Gulab" which translates to the rose of the desert? on an evolutionary basis, plants found in the desert have modifications where their parts (leaves, stems, branches etc) are thornier/spikier. desert roses are not only thornier but also have poisonous saps which is why a lot of plant enthusiasts are warned against growing this type of plant if they have kids or pets at home. anyway, enough of me yapping here. some of the Hindi/Urdu words were gotten with the help of multiple translators, so I may have messed them up, please, correct me if you encounter any error 🥲🙏🏾

As they both took the path down to Jodha's hojra, the walk remained awkwardly silent between Jalal and Rani Mainavati even as he held his head up high.

Even if he was merely fulfilling his end of the agreement he had, he could not easily forego the forlorn look she had held during the shaadi.

Fair enough, she was a mother foremost before she was Rani Mainavati. Any mother would be hesitant to give their daughter away to the enemy, even if it meant the salvation of their kingdom.

From what he knew, this ritual was to be conducted by the bride's father. So, for Rani Mainavati to have accompanied Raja Bharmal meant exactly what he had thought.

She had not needed to say a single word before he offered to take her to her bete's chambers. A smile of appreciation had lit up her face as she nodded her consent and here they were.

What would make a great conversation starter for a queen who had journeyed all the way to Agra just to see her daughter? When did he start running out of words to say? He was, after all, Jalaluddin Mohammad, Shehenshah-e-Hindustan, the words always came so naturally to him.

If he needed to follow his end of the bargain with Jodha, he had better bring up something.

"I reckon your journey went as smoothly as it could," he said, breaking through the awkward silence which suffocated him. He slowly turned to see the smile which brightened the face of Rani Mainavati. He could also notice the dark circles under her eyes - she must have had sleepless nights at that as well.

"It did," she replied, her fatigue showing through her voice. "I have spent days in expectation. It has provided a source of comfort as well."

Then, she looked up at him, her brown eyes warm and a little too resemblant to those of a certain Rajvanshi begum under the roof of his harem, except those eyes blazed at him almost every time he was within proximity to their owner.

"Rana Sa had announced his journey to Agra and I knew I had to come along," she added, her hand holding on to her dupatta. "I just wanted to see for myself how well she is faring."

"She fares well, Rani Sahiba," was his response. Except for the few times after their moment in the hammam, things were back to the status quo. The only times he got to see Jodha Begum were from the view from the balcony of his chambers. She seemed to handle her stay even better than he had expected. If she was not in the garden, she was out with Malika-e-Azaam.

A soft sigh escaped Rani Mainavati at that, a look of satisfaction on her face, "She has always adapted easily to changes."

That he concurred with.

"I know my Jodha could be a bit difficult," she said, making him almost scoff. 'A bit' was way too generous to describe the difficulty Amer's rose had posed to him from the moment he had heard about her. "Ever since I first held her in my arms as an infant, I knew she would be a handful."

"Rani Sahiba," he grinned, a note of pride on his face. "Nothing is too hard for Jalaluddin Mohammad."

Not even Amer's rose, Rani Sahiba.

"I know," she looked up at him with a shake of the head, then exhaled. "She does not completely comprehend the traditions or the customs of this place. I am afraid that she would unknowingly offend you and the pillars of the Mughal Empire."

If only she knew, he thought as the memories of the jashn after the nikah flooded his mind so vividly.

"Why would she not comprehend our traditions and customs, Rani Sahiba? Jodha Begum is a wise woman, after all."

With a nod, Rani Mainavati faced forward, "Whatever it is, I know that you were destined to be her pati for a reason."

He let out a hum at that as they finally reached their destination. There on the floor knelt Jodha Begum and a few Hindu bandhis with a thali in her hand before the murti of Kanha as she concluded the rituals - what were they called again?

Jalal observed as the women all stood up to their full heights to pick up some offerings from the thali. His curiosity had him a little too engrossed to notice she was aware of their presence now.

"Maa Sa?" Her lilt voice snapped him back to the present. He observed the moment when her face morphed to a wide smile, his presence ignored as she moved forward, reaching down to touch the feet of Rani Mainavati who only held her by the forearm to stop her before taking her into her arms in a hug.

The tenderness of the scene was almost enough to melt his nonexistent heart. His hand waved in dismissal at the bandhis who quietly left the hojra leaving just the three of them.

It took a while before the maa-bete duo would part from each other, exchanging teary-eyed glances.

"Maa Sa," she said tenderly, her hands together as she greeted. "I had not expected you'd arrive earlier than usual. Here," she turned to pick up the thali she had set aside. "Some prasad."

Rani Mainavati held her hand above the flame, passing the smoke over her head before picking up one of the prasad.

"You look healthier, bete. It is safe for me to assume Jamai Sa has been taking good care of you."

It was then Jodha took note of his presence, acknowledging him. Her eyelids fluttered and she put on that mask that looked so believable he'd have fallen for it.

"Mujhe maaf kar do, Shehenshah," she waved off her initial lack of acknowledgment with a nervous chuckle. "I had not noticed you due to my distraction."

Jalal fought the urge to scoff at that. If she wanted to play this game with him, he was a better player than she was.

"Of course," he smiled at her, rubbing his chin. "Why would I fault you for that, Jaan?"

Her face momentarily fell at the sudden nickname while Rani Mainavati seemed elated at their exchange.

"Besides, I had your attention for some nights now, why should I be angry if you were a little distracted today?" He grinned now at the sight of her flushed face as she grasped the implications of his words. She turned to Rani Mainavati as if to explain herself

"We-uh merely spent the night talking, Maa Sa," Jodha rushed in with a nervous laugh before she sent him a brief glare.

Talking? What couple spent nights together talking? From the expression on Rani Mainavati's face, Jalal could tell she did not buy that either.

Either way, he chose to play along, he laughed, "Of course, we did a lot of talking. I do not think I have encountered any woman as knowledgeable as Jodha Begum. She showed me a lot of things I would never have known before."

A smirk lifted his lips at the way she stared at him in disbelief, her eyes going stone cold as soon as she faced him. "Absolutely, Shehenshah has shown himself to be quite the fast learner, Maa Sa," she added with a fake smile.

"Why are your juttis on?" His face fell as he looked down on his feet. What was the deal with his shoes? First, it was Ruqaiya Begum who complained about his juttis on her bed, now, it was Jodha Begum's focus on those shoes in her room. Her voice rang firm as she urged him to take them off. "This is a sacred ground, remember? You cannot have your shoes on in front of Kanha's murti."

A chuckle left him as he slipped his feet out of the shoes, nudging them to the side with his foot. Today would be the first time he'd hear about that

"Of course," he said apologetically. "That had slipped my mind."

"Hmm," she hummed in dismissal, turning to Rani Mainavati who seemed captivated by their spectacle. "You see, Maa Sa, as fast of a learner Shehenshah is, he also gets distracted. I told him about this the day before, you know?"

His eyes narrowed, her stealth insult not escaping him. Then, they trailed down to her right wrist, which seemed to have healed leaving a few scars.

He smirked as he took a long hard stare at her, "Your wrist, it seems to have healed well."

"Wrist?" Rani Mainavati's face went pale, her eyes widening as she picked up Jodha's right hand, rolling down the bangles (which were of a material other than glass) to behold the faded scars. "How did this happen?!"

If looks could kill, his head would be at her feet within seconds with the way Jodha glared viciously at him as if she was thinking of scenarios of how her lifelong wish would finally become a reality at this moment.

Too bad, Jodha Begum, he grinned at her, awaiting what else she would come up with to pull herself out of this one.

"My bangles broke while I tried taking them off my wrist, Maa Sa. I got distracted and with a grip harder than I had expected, they broke."

Jalal did not miss the barb in her voice as she retorted. For her, it was better to cite herself as being the reason why she had those scars than to explain the whole night to her Ammi and end up defeating the whole purpose of her deal with him

With a sigh of relief, Rani Mainavati let go of Jodha's lower arm. "You should be careful or else, you will hurt yourself," she scolded.

"I did tell her to be a little more careful with the chooriyan, but-," he quipped with a shrug. "She is too stubborn for her good."

Jodha gaped at him with a heated look on her face while Rani Mainavati shook her head at their antics, her palms pressed together, "Please, Jamai Sa, I did tell you she could be a bit difficult."

"Of course," he chuckled. "I must take my leave now, Rani Sa. I hope you can rest well. Khuda Hafiz."

With his back turned, he left the duo in the hojra, a mischievous smile on his face, as he plotted ways he'd keep Jodha Begum flustered while Raja Bharmal and Rani Mainavati stayed in Agra.

After days of sleepless nights, Mainavati finally found herself well-rested, her mind at peace. The mahal which stood behind the walls of the fort captured her attention, the art just as exquisite as the one back home in Amer.

Maan Singh had been the one to show her around the palace as Jodha was away for the time being. It was to go see the people of this kingdom as Moti Bai explained to her the moment she awoke.

Mainavati's face beamed at the sight of the Angoori Bagh, the rich garden captivating her. The green foliage and colourful flowers were aesthetically pleasing to the eyes of whoever was fortunate to behold them.

It was a matter of time before she was joined by Jodha, the young woman's face beamed the moment she stepped into the garden.

"Pranaam, Bua Sa," Maan Singh stepped forward to greet Jodha who stopped him halfway. He opted to put his hands together with a slight bow of the head. "I was showing Dadi Sa around the places in your absence."

"Theek hai, Maan Singh," she nodded before turning to look behind, then turned to face them. "I believe your presence is needed in the court. We will talk later in the day."

With a bow, Maan Singh left the two women in the garden again. The atmosphere thickened with silence so suffocating. It was ironic how Mainavati lost sleep for days on end as she looked forward to being with her bete yet, here she was, her mind blank after finally being able to rest.

The words of Shaguni Bai rang through her mind, putting her to rest again. Her laadli seemed happy while under this roof, what more was she to fear?

"Fate showed me obstacles, hurdles Jodha would have to overcome."

The following words of the clairvoyant awoken that part of her which wished to shield her Jodha. How she wished her bete would not have to face such challenges, whatever they might be.

"But Rani Sa, you raised a rose, not a broken reed."

"Maa Sa," Jodha's voice broke through her thoughts and Mainavati gazed at her. "You never told me why you decided to go with Bhapusa. You do know that this rite is to be done by him."

"I had to, I had to come over to see your face again," her eyes dimmed by a fraction. "Amer seems empty without you, I have never heard a place sound so quiet. We miss you, I miss you, Laadli."

Jodha's eyes watered at that, her eyes blinking, "Maa Sa, Amer will always be in my blood. I miss home, I miss you too. But this is also my home, at least, I am trying to make a home out of Agra."

Mainavati chortled, "And here I was thinking I had made the wrong decision." Her hands held Jodha's as she stared deeply into her eyes. "It has always been a prayer of mine that my daughter be happy in her new home. It brings me joy."

"Sukanya and Shivani? How do they fare? I hope they do not miss me too much."

Mainavati stopped in her tracks, her face fell at the question. While Sukanya and Shivani also felt the absence of their didi, that was not the issue with led to her soured expression.

"Maa Sa?" Her arms felt the coolness of Jodha's palm, snapping her forward into reality. "Is anything the matter?"

She shook her head, the tears she attempted to fight back threatened to escape. None of that escaped Jodha's notice, forcing Mainavati to come clean.

"Sukanya," her voice trembled. "Every attempt to find a suitor for her has ended up futile. Rajputana has refused to forgive us for marrying you into the Mughal Empire."

Jodha's face fell, guilt written over her face as she looked away. Mainavati knew at that moment her daughter blamed herself for this.

Cupping her cheeks, Mainavati smiled at her, "Nahi, bete, none of this is your fault. Don't bear this as a burden. I have hope that the goddess has a match for Sukanya in Rajputana."

It did less to reassure the younger queen but she nodded in reply. It took a while for Mainavati to notice an extra presence behind them.

"Jodha," she redirected her attention to their guest.

Turning to view who it was, a soft whisper of "Ammi Jaan" reached Mainavati's ears.

Now, she had the opportunity to observe the woman before them. She stood tall and cladded in an azure shin-length peshwaz paired with churidars of the same colour.

Her appearance spoke of royalty and opulence as her peshwaz was intricately decorated and sparsely decked with gems. Her hair was partially covered with her dupatta exposing her jhoomer.

Her hair also showed a few grey strands and her light brown eyes had light crow feet around the edges.

"Ammi Jaan, Maa Sa," the woman glanced at Mainavati, acknowledging her with a gentle smile. Jodha then turned to her, "Maa Sa, Ammi Jaan."

The two older queens exchanged greetings, Mainavati's hands pressed together and Hamida's hand up to her forehead.

"Pranaam."

"Adaab."

Ammi Jaan, Jodha had called the woman before her. Mainavati had already put two and two together that she was none other than Malika-e-Azaam, Hamida Bano Begum, mother to the Badshah Salamat.

Tears sprang up in her eyes, this time, they were tears of joy at the fact that Hamida considered her Laadli as her own daughter.

It brought warmth to her heart that regardless of whatever obstacles Jodha would face here, she had a support system.

"Subhanallah!" Hamida exclaimed, "Khuda has blessed me with the opportunity of being in the presence of the woman who birthed and raised the Registan ka Gulab. Words cannot describe how happy I am to finally meet you."

"Dhanyavaad, Malika-e-Azaam, even I am esteemed to be in the presence of the woman who has welcomed my Jodha and made her feel at home here."

"Jodha here," Hamida briefly glanced at the aforementioned in appreciation. "Has proven herself to be of knowledge and wisdom. I can only praise the one who has raised her well."

Letting out a tearful chuckle, Mainavati reached to catch the tears in her eyes. The emotional moment was soon cut short with someone running into the Angoori Bagh.

"Oof," Mainavati almost fell but caught herself when the person - a child - took refuge behind Jodha. Curious, her eyebrows furrowed as she took note of this child.

He was a boy, barely above the age of 6 and, from his appearance, was of royal/noble background.

"Kaun hai?" Jodha, caught unaware, chuckled as she looked behind her to see the boy clutching her pallu.

(Who is it?)

Mainavati and Hamida looked on at the spectacle, sharing a look of incredulity at the scene.

"Kohee nahin," a little voice rang through.

(Nobody)

"Hmm," Jodha sighed, her hand on her chin as a teasing look crossed her face. "This would be the first time I'd hear 'nobody' respond to a question."

The boy, finding himself caught, released Jodha's pallu, his head up as he walked to the front of the three women.

"Adaab," he greeted. "I am called Abdul Rahim Khan-e-Khana."

Getting down on her knees, Jodha greeted with a "Pranaam", introducing herself to Rahim. It was then another presence joined - another woman not any older than Jodha.

Sighing in relief, the woman glowered at Rahim, "Where have you been, Rahim? It is almost time for madrasah!"

"Mujhe maaf kar do, Ammi Jaan," Rahim held his two ears in apology, his head down with a pout on his lips.

The woman shook her head wearily before facing the three women, "My apologies, Jodha Begum, Ammi Jaan, Rani Sahiba."

"No need to apologize, Salima Begum," Jodha beamed. "Children are messengers of God, after all, and are allowed wherever they wish to be."

It was also then that Jodha introduced Mainavati to Salima Begum, the woman who seemed wise beyond her years with her mannerisms and composure. In gratitude, Mainavati found herself elated that her daughter had found a company in these women before her.

Jodha had no idea if she should curse her fate, her hand right begrudgingly steering the contents of the pot while the left reached out for the chilli from Moti.

Wordlessly, her dasi passed the chilli to her.

It had all started as a jashn to warmly welcome Amer's royal family to Agra, a fairly small event until Bhaisa had to praise her culinary skills in front of Shehenshah.

She frowned at the thought of cooking and presenting her meal before him, watching him eat. She lit up at the thought of him choking on the meal and dying a slow painful death.

Sure, it was against the values she held dear but it was simultaneously hilarious to imagine.

Shehenshah Jalal-ud-Din Mohammad, dead from choking.

She huffed to herself, if wishes were horses.

"Ruko!" A deep feminine voice made her pause in her tracks.

Turning, she was face-to-face with none other than Maham Anga. The older woman viewed her with disdain, her round dark gray eyes boring into her.

For the most part, Jodha tried to avoid her but some things were just inevitable, one of them being none other than the woman before her.

The woman dressed in the same white garb which carried with it its double meanings - white for a woman mourning the loss of her husband and white for purity. Despite the symbolism of the white clothes she wore, Maham Anga's soul was filled with the blackness of hate and arrogance.

The dasis moved aside for the woman who strode down to her, her khwaja sara, Resham, towing behind her like a shadow. Jodha held her breath as Maham Anga stood before her, her eyes gave her a once-over before veering off to the food in the pot.

"What are you cooking?" Her voice was cold and would have been monosyllabic if it was possible.

"Sabut moong dal."

Maham Anga hummed, a look of suspicion thrown at her before staring at the food as if it were a live venomous snake instead of a vegetarian dish with lentils and legumes.

"Taste it," she commanded. Jodha was tempted to laugh in her face, almost snorting at what the middle-aged woman was implying.

Zeher?! Really?!

If she wanted the jallad outside dead, she'd rather it be at her own hands, just the way she wished it to be - by her sword.

It was insulting, the insinuation that she'd resort to the methods of cowards by poisoning him.

Nonetheless, she picked up a smaller thali and a spoon, taking a spoonful of the aromatic dish and tasting it. Maham Anga's eyes narrowed at her as if waiting for her to keel over and die. When she saw that she still stood alive and well, the woman waved her off in dismissal.

Not willing to spend a second more than necessary in the presence of the forebearing woman, she walked away to prepare the next dish. It might as well have ended up being a mistake on her part.

The jashn was entertaining at best but not entertaining enough to the ever-scheming Maham Anga whose face was currently fixed in a neutral-looking expression but deep within, she looked forward to the chaotic ending the royal court of Agra was about to witness.

The opportunity to humiliate the Rajvanshi perfectly opened up the moment she turned away to prepare some kheer for Jalal. Maham Anga had tasted the food as well and true to the words of Shehzade Bhagwan Das, Jodha Begum was indeed skilled in culinary arts. But who was the Wazir-e-Aaliya to allow Jodha Begum to give that food in its low-spice state to Jalal?

All it took was a little bit of more chilli powder poured into the moong dal and voilà, the world's perfect recipe for a disaster waiting to happen. Jalal had this weird sensitivity when it came to his sense of taste - his food could not be too sweet or too salty or too spicy. It dared not even be bland or else it would spell doom for whoever prepared his meal.

With Jalal's anger being as destructive as it could be, Begum Jodha had no chance of surviving the aftermath.

Her face began to lift in a smirk as soon as the whole setting was brought in. The aroma of the sabut moong dal filled the room, a terrible shame it masked the extra spiciness for a man who detested anything spicier than his preferred spice level.

Placed by the thali bearing the moong dal was another which had a stack of butter naan and a bowl of kheer which would not be enough to douse the heat of the chilli.

Maham Anga restrained herself from pulling off the Kubrick smile that threatened to make its presence known soon.

More thalis were brought in, containing a variety of other meals prepared by Begum Jodha. Just like the moong dal, all of them were sabotaged but she knew Jalal would go for that moong dal first.

Just the way she predicted, Jalal went for the sabut moong dal first, his fingers tearing off a piece of the naan that he dipped. Her smirk widened as soon as he popped it into his mouth, evolving into a wider smug grin the moment she noticed the change in his expression.

Now, it begins.

This was the moment she eagerly awaited, the moment where he would lash out in cold fury and humiliate Begum Jodha right in front of her family.

Words were not enough to describe the amount of disdain she felt towards the Rajvanshi woman or the seemingly innocent face she put on. Yet, for some reason, Jalal found himself captivated by her and was even ready to accept the terms she laid out for him at the Muh Dikhai.

Had she merely been forced to convert, maybe Maham Anga would have tolerated her but no, Jalal had to give her a semblance of control to the point of even letting a mandir for Krishna be set up in her hojra.

If Jalal was willing to give her an inch, Maham Anga feared the mile Jodha would decide to take next. It was like the proverbial camel in the tent, it started with the camel's nose - letting a Hindu queen retain her religion and culture. Hell would have to freeze over first before she would allow this camel to move its entire body into the tent and shove the owner out of his abode.

However, her face lost its smirk the moment Jalal took another bite. Had her plans not worked and had one of the bandhis thrown out the moong dal for another? Why was Jalal going for a second taste?

Then she noticed how red his face grew, fixed into a glower while sweat beaded on his forehead.

So, he did feel the spice after all. Yet, why did he bottle up the rage she hoped he would let out?

What is going on? She thought, a frown of confusion on her face. Even Resham fixed her a puzzled look at her failed plans.

It took a few more bites before Jalal stood up abruptly, prompting everyone to stand up as well. Maham Anga observed the tight clenching and unclenching of his fist as he subtly glared at Begum Jodha. It was as if he actively held himself back from strangling her.

Time stood still, a moment of tension for everyone in the room before he walked out without a word. With her eyebrows furrowed, Maham Anga turned to watch the retreating figure of her foster son.

What just happened? She found herself questioning, her legs leading her to follow after Jalal.

Heat and pain were the two words he could use to describe the agony he felt as he marched into his hojra, Badi Ammi following after.

"Jalal! Jalal," she called after him.

On a normal day, he would dignify her with a response but this night was anything but normal. He steamed with anger so hot it would burn anything unfortunate to be in his way.

"Call Jodha Begum!" He said coldly.

Badi Ammi stood before him in confusion, her eyes widened. "Jodha Begum? Why? What happened? Did she do something wrong?"

"Ask her to come here," he snapped, his patience hanging on by a fine thread. "I do not care if you have to drag her down to this place by her hair, I want her right here!"

"Ji," Badi Ammi trembled from the intensity of his rage, a shaky nod from her as she set out to carry out his orders.

His mind fumed, not just from anger but from the heat of the spice. His hands scrambled around the end table by his bed for the jug which held what he desperately needed - water.

He picked up the jug, water flooding into his mouth with the hopes of quenching the pain. It only managed to worsen it, his eyes tearing up now.

That she-devil, that bride of Shaytan, how dare she!

She had walked in, put on the best disguise of false shyness around him in the hammam only for her to do this to him. Had she been planning this the moment her bhaijaan had praised her skills before him? Was this a form of revenge for what took place in her hojra?

That poisonous desert rose had pricked him with another one of her thorns and his mouth suffered the aftermath.

Her entrance was long due as the sound of her payals alerted him to her entrance.

Even with the stunt she just pulled, she maintained that false innocent appearance before him like the witch she was.

"Why did you wish to see me?" she asked him as if she had no idea what she just did.

That managed to further stroke his rage as he stood up to his full height, the metal jug rolling to the ground and startling her as she almost jumped in fear. His hair stuck to his sweaty forehead as he sent her a glare

"Why? Why did you make the food so spicy?"

With a look of puzzlement, she looked up at him. How long was she going to keep up with this facade?

"Hindustan has thousands of cooks eager to have me taste their dishes but you," he pointed at her. "You decided to serve me that dish. I chose to say nothing because I kept my word to not humiliate you but like the devil you are, you have chosen to take advantage of my chivalry."

A small frown graced her face at that.

"If you were planning to scare me, then, you have failed, for I have done nothing wrong," she said firmly, without any fear of what the repercussions might be.

The temerity she had to even talk back at him made him scoff as he slowly advanced on her. She held her head high to behold him.

"What did you just say?" He asked, his voice low and deep, daring her to repeat her words.

"I told you, I am not afraid of you," she repeated, her eyes meeting his. "I have done nothing that would warrant my fear."

He gave her a derisive smile at her bravery which he found admirable until now. Still, he allowed her to speak.

"I tasted the food I made and it was fine. I would never make a meal so spicy for anyone, especially if they cannot tolerate it," her voice was firm without any wavering. "And for my family, I am concerned for their welfare more than anyone. I have done everything, including your conditions even though they were the last thing I'd ever do. Why would I jeopardize the happiness of my family and the safety of Amer?"

His eyes grew cold, his nose flaring as a mocking look graced his face. It became more clear to him, she could care less about his welfare - it was her people that mattered more to her.

He looked down at her, an unspoken promise of vengeance in his eyes. There was no way he'd let her get away with this one at all.

closing notes: silly Jalal, little does he know that water does little to quench spice and will only spread the heat to other parts of the mouth 💀💀💀. also, Jalal, if she's the bride of Shaytan, what does that make you? this part (the spice attack) was funny to watch in the serial and even more hilarious to write that I had a good laugh while drafting and proofreading 😂.