𝐊𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐉𝐀- When the Sky Met the Earth

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐋

The royal wedding was about to commence within an hour. The queen's perpetrate act was still hidden. Albeit this lie everything else in the palace glimmered. It was one of the most magnificent marriage's ever in the history of Amer. The lapms glistened with a reddish-yellow flame. The flabbergasting essence of roses captivated everybody's mind into a deep slumber of thoughts. The shimmering chandeliers hypnotized everyone. The best of craftsmen in india grafted beautiful designs on the walls that made the enviorment more surreal. However, the bizarre yet crooke plot of the king and queen to swindle the kingdom of Mewar was a treacherous yet dishonest act, but to save the pride of their kingdom, it was inevitable. Everyone danced in joy whereas there was tensity in Mridrakshi's room. Khitija was having a conversation with her grandmother, trying to convince her.

"Why did you agree to this." She said in a quiet yet brittle voice.

"Lower your voice ammu. The queen will hear you. I had no choice. I had to obey what the queen says. I had no audacity to deny, maybe because I care for my life." She replied cautiously proving herself. There conversation was interrupted by a subtle, calm and fierce voice.

"What do you think old women, she could deny me?" Mridrakshi smirked.

"No your highnesses. I was just.." She could not complete her words. Mridrakshi clutched her chin tightly with a crooked grin. Khitija hissed seeing her grandmother being ill-treated. She was an old lady and it was no more than a torment to her.

"Forgive her your highness. She is old." Pleaded Khitija. Mridrakshi jerked her hands away making Khitija and her grandmother flinch.

She roared," We royals can order anything and you have to abide by it. No questions asked. I have power and prestige and you own nothing. Ever if you try to question my order, remember I can behead you."

The both lowered their heads and replied," Yes your highness."

Khitija's heart cried acknowledging her fragility. She seemed helpless. She could do nothing but withstand the queen insulting her grandmother. She thought being normal as a curse. They had no opinion. Everyone seemed to crush their spirits even if they were right. But soon this curse would turn to a blessing after she would marry the king and the queen of Mewar. Little did she know a royal's life is not easy either.

Everything became quiet again. The sound of Kshitija's heart pounding against her chest was clearly audible. Lines of stress evaded her forehead. All she could think about was her marriage with a king. She was drenched with nervousness and thoughts of fear with a tinge of excitement. The maids had already ornamented her with jewels of gold. The red ruby's clearly matched her outfit. Her hair was tied in a messy bun encircled with garlands of bright, red roses. Her lips were cherry red and so was her face thinking about the upcoming days and how her dreams turned to an unbelievable reality. 

Time escaped quicker than sand does from a person's fist. The marriage commenced. Everyone's eyes glistened with excitement looking at Siddhant's bold yet ferocious persona. A calm, composing yet deadly ambiance fluttered past his masculine, well built body. He seemed like a true warrior. Sitting beside him was Kshitija in her long veil of translucent red chunni. Her heartbeat raced with the mantras chanted by the Purohit. As time flew, Siddhant filled her hair with vermilion and ornamented her with mangalsutra. Taking seven rounds(saat phere) infront of the holy fire, they pledged to be husband and wife. Mridrakshi's plan succeed and her face glistened with a stress free face. They took blessings from their elders one by one and the vidai ceremony took place. Her eyes filled with tears as she gazed at her grandmother through the partly transparent viel. It was hard for her to leave her grandmother but even in the most dire circumstances, she had to. 

As per the traditions of Mewar's monarchy, the first queen's face should be seen by the mother of the king. However, Siddhant's parents died a long time back, when he was apparently 15 years old. Since then he was brought up by Mokshini Bai, his mother's sister. Siddhant has never been closer to anyone than her guardian who also proclaimed herself to be his mother. She was the raj mata of the kingdom of Mewar. None could dare to go against her, not even Siddhant himself. Everybody feared the old yet intuitive lady. For sheer cleverness, she could run rings around anybody who tried to intervene between their relationship. 
Mewar was enormous. The golden candor of the sun diminished and evening spread it arms. The dim tantalising serenity could ensnare any onlooker in an eternal loop of ecstasy. Out in the front marched Siddhant's black horse with vanity. As the orange dingy lights radiated the entire place. Siddhant's face was filled with glory. The beautiful, tranquility added more to his happiness. He was elated after his marriage with one of the most beautiful women in Hindustan. His long slightly brown hair extended till his nape. His beard stricken face, clearly ascertained his rajvanshi blood. His face gleamed like a ravishing peace of emerald under the sparkly moon light. His eyes twinkled with excitement and nervousness. Though being a king, he was merely 21 years. Even though he excelled at mortal combat, fencing and archery, he still had a heart of a young teenager. This feeling was however ousted a long time ago, when Mokshini told her 'A king does not have feelings neither does he share them. He is painless and brutish.' It was strange that after 5 years, his heart fluttered for the first time. Even he was puzzled seeing himself this impatient. Similar situations prevailed the other side. Khitija's heart started to pound even harder, imagining the condition after the palace finds out about her truth.