The Fire and The Storm

The weight of a predetermined future pressed down on you. For years, the words from a mysterious note had echoed in your mind: "How far can one fly with borrowed wings?" Now, staring at your injured pigeon, Vaani, the proof of a deliberate act and a hidden kindness, the question felt more pressing than ever.

The arrival of wedding presents from the King of Simhavat, a crimson saree and exquisite jewelry, was a stark reminder of the impending marriage alliance – a union you loathed. In a defiant act, you set the gifts ablaze, the flames mirroring the rage in your heart for the empire that had brought bloodshed to your kingdom.

The dream that followed, of your childhood ambition to be a queen contrasted with the reality of your betrothal to Prince Siddhant, jolted you awake. The words for a reply to the note finally came to you, as defiant as the fire you'd lit: "As far as the moon, that shines with borrowed light."

Summoned to your father's chambers, you learned the dreaded news – you would leave for Taransh on your twentieth birthday. Finding a surge of unexpected bravery, you declared your conditions for the marriage: to be Siddhant's only wife, to enter Simhavat as his wife and future queen, and to maintain ties with your family. Though your father was angered, your mother's intervention diffused the tension, leaving you with a mix of fear and resolve. Your fate seemed sealed, yet you clung to the hope that your conditions might buy you time or even derail the inevitable.