She felt so small and warm in my arms as I hugged her. But more than anything I felt relief. It was foolish of me to think it, but part of me worried that she may have forgotten me.

But she hadn't, and I was extremely relieved.

When she pulled away from me, she looked at me with a big smile.

It was almost as if she had gotten more beautiful after the three months of being away from her.

I wanted to kiss her... but I didn't. I couldn't help but think that it was too early for that.

However, as she stepped away from me, she suddenly looked shy. "Did you just arrive?" She asked, a little awkwardly.

I smiled at her, finding her sudden switch to be slightly humorous. "This morning," I said. "I was going to come straight to you, but I saw you here... I didn't know you danced... or sang."

She laughed awkwardly. "I do."

"Well," I said, "you do both very well." I meant that. And to be honest, I was rather pleased that she seemed more cultured than I already thought she was. It was attractive. And it would most likely please my mother. "You must dance for me," I said, taking her hand in mine.

She chuckled, still with some shyness.

"Come," I said. "I have a present for you."

Her shyness suddenly vanished. "I don't want a present," she snapped.

"Why?" I asked as I pulled her towards my horse.

"I already have this," she held her arm up, showing me my bangle. I was relieved to see that she still wore it, though it was pulled up to sit tightly around her upper arm. I wasn't surprised surprised she chose to do that, it was quite big for her, afterall.

"That's more of a keepsake-"

"I still don't want it," she said.

"Just come," I said.

"Where?"

I didn't say anything, instead, I lifted the sweaty and suddenly panicking girl up onto my horse without her permission.

---

When we arrived back at that small lake from her stories, Seetha slipped off my horse and collapsed onto the floor once again. After helping her up, I looked at her in disbelief. "How could you be frightened of riding a horse?"

"I don't like horses," she said.

My eyes widened. "How could you say such a thing?" I asked. "You have a cow."

"Cows are kind creatures. Horses... can kill people. They can knock them down and trample them to death."

I stroked the mane of my glorious horse Bhumi, named after the earth which had rich soil that matched his dark brown colour. He was now the pride of all the stable men back at home. Though he was a simple brown colour and did not look as glorious as some of the other horses, he was large, strong and fiercely obedient.

He was misjudged when he was young... people refusing him when he was younger for his simple dark brown colour. Most warriors and kings and princes preferred beautiful white horses or frightening black horses.

But I had selected him myself, seeing the strength in the young horse before it had even developed.

And now he was the strongest and most favourite horse in the kingdom. He was a warhorse who would not run off even in the fiercest of battles. He, like me, was covered in battle wounds, a testament to his bravery and reliability.

Yes... he was indeed an important part of my life.

"I don't know what horses you have met, but you have no reason to fear Bhumi."

"His name is Bhumi?"

I nodded.

She nodded her head approvingly. "A suitable name, I suppose."

I held my hand out. "Give me your hand."

She shook her head vigorously,

"You won't even give him a chance?"

Now she hesitated.

I kept my hand out until she finally gave up and rested her hand in mine. I then placed her hand on the soft black mane of Bhumi, letting her run her fingers through it before she started to pet him herself. After a few moments, she started to look more relaxed. Bhumi's calm nature probably helped with that, though.

"He is very kind," I said as I let go of her hand, "so long as you are kind to him and show him the respect he deserves."

Seetha looked at me, but right then, Bhumi shook his head, startling her and making her jump a couple steps backwards.I laughed, reaching out and taking his face in my hand. "He won't hurt you."

She hesitated, but approached him again, this time, reaching out and touching his head as I held his head down.

After a little while, my gentle beast had grown comfortable with Seetha and it seemed that she liked him a little better too. "I suppose he isn't so bad."

I let out a short laugh before releasing Bhumi and allowing him to do as he pleases for the time being. He trotted away, and then I turned to Seetha. "Your gift," I started.

She didn't let me continue. "I don't want your gift," she said. "Walking around with this bangle is already making heads turn, I couldn't dare think to add to that."

"This gift is more subtle," I said, as I sat down on the floor. "People will not see it."

She looked at me with confusion, "what are you doing?" She asked as she crouched down in front of me, hugging her legs.

I unknotted the string of the small silk bag which I had attached to my scabbard. From it, I pulled out a silver anklet which had tiny little bells around it. "They will be able to hear it though."

Her eyes widened at the sight of the anklets, and I smiled. It was obvious that she liked them, though she looked as if she were trying to hide it and was trying to think of a way to reject the gift.

Without saying a word, I reached out and grabbed her leg, pulling it forward and causing her to fall back. I wrapped the cool, silver anklet around her warm ankle and hooked it into the clasp.

When I reached for her other foot, she pulled it away. "I can't, Aaryan."

"Don't be silly," I said before taking her other foot and clasping the second anklet onto her.

There were three reasons I chose silver anklets for her over the typical gifts of gold or silk. The first was that it was traditional. It was a tradition for a man to gift his soon to be wife a gift of anklets covered in bells. It was so that when she took her first step into his home, she would be heard, and people would know she was here.

My second reason was that I wanted her to be heard. This young woman had so many amazing things to say and I wanted her to be heard... for people to pay attention to her. I did not want her to be invisible, walking around softly as many women at the palace did. I had heard my mother say that a woman's footsteps should never be heard.

That sounded ridiculous to me. Especially in the case of Seetha.

Finally, the third reason was simply that I always liked the sound of bells. I did not really know why... aside from the fact that the sound calmed me.

I loved waking up to the sound of the temple bells in the morning at Aathikara. Then praying, with the consistent sound of the bells ringing in the background as the priest chanted his mantras. And whenever I travelled, to hear the young girls running around, playing their games as the bells of their own anklets jingled.

I associated the sound of bells with the gods, as well as with peace.

You never heard the sound of bells when we were in the midst of war. All you heard was anguish, and maybe the low sound of a gong.

So yes... it was a calming sound. And maybe, now that I thought about it, the gift was in some ways a selfish gift. A way for me to allow myself to hear the sound of bells more often.

"This is too much..." she said, though I could see her admiring them. I was glad she liked it.

"It's a simple gift," I said. "Aside from the fact that each bell was individually crafted by the finest jeweler in Chandraba."

She gaped at me, wide eyed.

I chuckled. "I told you already... I will not silence you."

Now she laughed softly.

"Now get up," I said. "Let me hear them."

She hesitated, but stood up, holding the skirt of her sari up for me to see her ankles. At first, she took a few shy steps, the bells jingling shyly as well. But then she began to skip around. "They're so heavy!"

"You will get used to them," I said.

She continued to skip around, a big grin forming on her face. When she finally stopped and returned to me, she looked concerned. "What am I going to say to my family?"

"Tell them that a man who wishes to marry you gave them to you."

Seetha rolled her eyes as she sat down next to me. "Promise me you wont get me any more gifts," she practically begged.

"I cannot make such promises."

"But you said we would make promises when you return."

"Not of this kind."

"Then of what kind?"

I thought for a moment. "I have told my parents that once my work in the West is over, I will be bringing you back with me."

I watched her face fill with worry. "Bringing me back?"

"To the palace."

"Really?"

I nodded. "It won't be for some time, though. So I suggest you tell your father about me as soon as possible."

"My father knows," she said, surprising me. "He just doesn't know who you really are."

"Why not?"

"I do not want to worry him," she said. "Not when even I am still unsure."

I was slightly offended by that. "What do you meant by that?"

She shrugged, but looked at me with a silly smile. "Don't pretend that we know each other very well."

I let out a short laugh before giving her a light push. "Well then dance for me," I said. "If you do, then I will know how you dance... another thing to know about you."

"What?"

"You must be good if you are a teacher."

She looked away, at the lake that sat in front of us. "I am not," she said, looking embarrassed.

"Show me," I said. "Put these bells to work."

There was red forming under her tanned skin. "Which dance? There are so many."

I leaned back, holding myself up with my hands and putting one leg over the other. "Any about Krishna and Radha," I said, "those have always been my favourite."

"Will you sing?" She asked, almost sounding serious.

I laughed. "No," I said, "but if you had told me you danced, I would have brought my flute."

"You play the flute?"

"I play it as well as the great Krishna himself."

Her eyes widened as she crouched down in front of me again. "Really?"

I nodded. It was odd that she was surprised. It was completely mandatory for the royals to know the arts. I also knew how to play the Miridangam, and though I did not like to sing, I had also learned to sing. "Now you know a little bit more about me–"

"Can you go get it?"

I raised a brow. "You want me to ride all the way back to the fort and–"

"I will sing and dance while you play the flute!"

"But I will–"

"Please?" She sat back down, crossing her legs under the skirt of her sari. She then took my hand in hers. "I will wait," she said. "I'd love to hear you play!"

There was an odd look of admiration on her face and it was that look that made me get up. "Alright," I said.

I made it back to the fort as fast as Bhumi could take me. When I arrived, I had to dig through one of my many chests of things to find the wooden flute which I had not played in quite some time.

When I found it, it was encased in a dark, wooden box with a beautiful carving of a scene of a scene from one of the many stories of Krishna.

This one had a young, child Krishna, playing his flute while older, beautiful milkmaids watched. The one closest to him was his future wife, Radha, who in this carving was as young and as plump as he was.

I pulled the flute out and tucked it into my sash the same way I had tucked in my sword. Then, I rode back to our spot near the little lake.

Seetha rushed over to me when she saw me, the new bells around her ankles singing with her every step.

When I got off of Bhumi, I showed her my flute.

"It's beautiful!" She said, taking it from me and examining it. When she handed it back, I walked over to a tree and sat down. "I've had it since I was a child, though I haven't played it in nearly a year." All of these military campaigns had kept me bust.

She sat down in front of me. "Sa..." she sang the note. Her voice was sweet and though she was not the best singer I have heard, I quite liked it. When I didn't say anything, she frowned. "Come now, let's see how well it works."

I chuckled, lifting the flute to my lips. She sang the first Karnatic note again, and I matched it with the sound of my flute. "Ri..." she continued. When I matched it, she went on to the next. "Ga... Ma... Pa.. no, no, that's not right."

I wanted to laugh, but instead, I corrected it and we continued.

When she was satisfied, going through a few different raagas, she stood up, suddenly looking a lot less nervous. "Do you know the keerthanam where Radha hides from Krishna but he plays a joke on her and vanishes?" She asked as she tucked the pallu of her sari into the top of her skirt.

"I know it," I said. It was a story my grandmother used to sing to us.

She smiled at me, and within a few moments, she did the very short prayer that all dancers did before dancing, and then began.

I didn't start playing my flute immediately. Instead, I let her start her song first. I listened to her voice, which was soft and sweet and a little shy. But shortly after, I began to play.

Her smile grew as I played, and her dancing and singing became a little less shy.

As I had expected, Seetha was an excellent dancer.

Bharatanatyam was a sacred art form.

It wasn't just a kind of dance. It was a form of story telling, where the dancers tell sacred stories through their body movements, their songs and finally, their facial expressions.

And of course, as Seetha was an excellent storyteller, she was also an excellent bharatanatyam dancer.

As she pretended to be Radha, the beloved wife of Krishna, through her facial expression she was able to really tell the story. People did not need to know the song to know what was happening, and that was why she was good.

And as I watched her, I realized with every note I played on my flute, I was falling more and more in love with her.