Hers, was a gilded land blessed by the sun and lined with all the riches of heaven brought down to bask in the earth. It was a land of servants and serfs. Of jewel encrusted halls and pillars of myth carved by the finest artisans across the vastness of the Dharmachakra Empire. It was a place where nectar flowed from reserves that could rival lakes and spices danced across tongues in every single meal no matter the occasion. Draped in cloth as soft as cloud and spun from silken spinners handled by aged and revered elder seamstresses, she was a woman who was born into every single blessing the world could offer and was foreign to any burden destined for those whose lot in life was lesser than hers. All of these things are now meaningless to her. For she is not home. Far from it. As far as she can possibly go. and she is dying.
Few dare to trek through these lands in winter. The rocky crags and perilous cliffside roads already made the journey unappealing to anyone but the most intrepid of merchants in the warmest of times, which were still frigid. But in winter? What was once unappealing soon becomes impossible. Before long the permafrost takes hold of the roads and the smattering of outposts and lodges begin to hollow. Their retainers having long since retreated to the more insulated furnishing of the main city. To travel the northern lands of Kiramavat during this time is the height of foolishness. No profit, no matter how steep, which even in the best of times it isn't, is ever worth the risks. And if, Dharma forbid, the traveler is to find themselves caught in one of the numerous and sudden blizzards that are known to scour these lands the trek becomes no different to suicide.
But Rani Akali cannot wait for the snow to thaw. It would take months, and by then it would be too late. Her name, and the value it held, would all be meaningless and her struggle would lose meaning with it. Which is why she didn't heed the warnings of the merchants. Why she used her jewelry to buy the thickest woolen clothes from the local shepherds who also warned her against the very journey she is currently undertaking. It is why she pushed her dear horse, a brilliant white steed by the name of Rashid who she had raised from her earliest memories, to the brink of death. And it is why she is now trudging through snowdrifts so high they approach her waist, shivering in a cold so fearsome that the wool she wears can do nothing but barely prevent it from tearing her apart completely.
She is dying. She knows this. She knows this better than anyone. Better than the numerous people who warned her before. She knows exactly how hopeless this situation is. How likely it is that her story will end frozen in time in this backwater region so neglected by the empire that it's Khan is allowed to reign as king. And how even after her body will inevitably be found, weeks, maybe even months later during the thaw, she is certain her corpse will be stripped of all its valuables before being thrown into a potter's grave with no inquiry made towards who she was, why she was there, or who might even bother to miss her.
She can imagine the stern look on her father's face as she meets him at the gates of heaven. Or how the hands of the underworld will take her for defying Dharma's prescribed fate only for her to needlessly throw away her own life. But Akali continues to walk. Fueled by something stronger than shame, and much stronger than faith. Rage. Akali is a woman wronged, and she would sooner be damned to the depths of Naraka than take this dishonor without even attempting to gain retribution for the scum that placed her in this mess.
"Is that...?" She whispers, her breath condensing into a fog so thick it blinds her eyes.
In the distance. It's faint, barely even a flicker, but even through the snow and the fog it's unmistakable in this pitch black night. It's light.
In disbelief, she rubs her eyes with her nearly frozen gloved hand, holding her breath as to make the image as clear as it possibly can. The light remains. She's done it. She's made it to the gates of civilization!
If not for how painful it is to even breath the icy shards of air Akali would no doubt be laughing right now. Ruefully smirking in the imagined faces of all those that warned and doubted her as she pictures a heroes triumph that surely awaits her once she finishes accomplishing something that, even she herself admits, is extremely foolish. But as sense begins to retake her she manages to hold back her very premature celebration. Even with the most generous of estimates that light is still roughly seven-hundred paces away. Seven hundred paces, when she's unsure if she even has the energy left for six.
Such thoughts are meaningless. Not when the goal is right in front of her.
So she walks. Trudges through the snow, pushing it aside as if she is some juggernaut demanding a procession through a crowded festival street. At first she tries to count the steps to motivate herself. The counting stops quickly as she realizes it achieves the exact opposite. Her hands are the first to lose all sensation. Unable to bear the risk of losing them forever, she stuffs them deep inside the recesses of her coat. The next to go is her legs. The fact that she continues to will them to move could be considered a miracle. But soon, everything begins to slow. The snow battering her face, her breath, the world itself, it all starts to freeze. Her blood a frozen sludge, and soon her whole being, frozen. Even now, despite being so close, her efforts still fall short.
Forced to stare at the light. Her head is frozen in place, eyes unable to look away from the way that it dances, the way it taunts her. At this point, she can't even will her hands to reach out towards it. Instead, all her remaining energy is spent on one last whisper before the cold claims her completely.
"Let me in."
It is not every day that the meager palace of the Khan of Kiramavat is host to a half dead frozen woman. Not to say that half dead frozen people are an uncommon sight in Kiramavat. Personally speaking, Khan Rajaputra Eklavya Chakravarty would be more than a little perplexed if he did not hear of at least one person suffering a near death experience from the cold per year. But such incidents were handled in the localities in which they were relevant, which rarely ever required the palace's involvement. But this particular half dead frozen woman held a bit more of a peculiar significance. For this person, whoever she is, is a lady of the capital.
It is certainly a bold claim. After all Kiramavat is so far removed from the capital's grace that one is more likely to run into a stray incarnated god than see anyone who's feet have ever stepped foot in that gilded place. And a woman from the capital? That is simply unheard of. For as far as the district of Kiramavat has existed there has never been a single earthly reason for a lady of the courts or those ladies that waited upon them to ever even consider a trip these dharma forsaken lands. And in the middle of winter? Either the gods are playing tricks again or this woman is well and truly the most unlucky traveler of all time. Or perhaps lucky given that somehow her displacement had placed her close enough to the city gates to be spotted by a lazing guardsman.
And yet, the fineries she carries with her as well as the seal that is stowed in her pack all indicate a woman of status, and the particularities of the seal itself hold all the trappings of a capital resident. Of course, she could have stolen the seal, but the likelihood of a woman stealing a capital seal and somehow escaping all the way to Kiramavat is even less likely than her simply being a capital resident that... has business here.
Regardless, it is no doubt a mystery, and given the lack of other pressing matters, a mystery that deserves the local regents attention. Still, despite his curiosity, he has been waiting in this room for the past two hours.
Is she even alive? he thinks.
"I can see her breathing." says the man standing besides him to his right.
"But does that mean she will be breathing for long...?" Eklavya asks, his eyes not moving from the sight of this strange woman laid out on the hastily moved couch.
She is now stacked high with furs. All while positioned a safe but still warm distance from the fireplace. A true full forced effort to revive the near dead.
"You're the one who wanted her here." the man replies most casually to him.
Eklavya sighs as he shifts his head to wordlessly gaze at the man next to him, raising a single brow in a very pointed manner.
"What? No one else is here." he says, his hands held up in questioning protest.
Eklavya then looks towards the other guards by the two entrance ways into this very throne room.
"Well they don't give a damn." he says.
At which a hand is then gestured towards the very woman they are both gathered here at this ungodly hour of the night to greet.
"Well she ain't awake-"
"As far as we know." Eklavya interjects.
"What? You think she's fakin' it?" he asks him.
"I don't know." he says, his eyes now returning to scrutinizing her.
The mystery woman from the capital. Most of her features are still currently being obscured by the layers of fur but what little Eklavya does see gives him the impression of someone who likely would have been quite popular in the inner courts. That light, bronzed, complexion so unlike his own. The way it shines against the light of the flames as if to capture the sun's gentle glow is a quality that is greatly valued in the capital. This, alongside the perfectly threaded brows and her almost iridescently black hair. The way it is styled in such a way where its threads all settled in perfect concert like the rigid lines of battle formations or the rivers that spanned throughout the mountain range. It all reeked of a kind of perfectly constructed image beyond the efforts of most. Whoever this woman is, she is clearly the kind of person to go through great lengths to make sure that even in her weakest moments there is not a single piece of her that could be called objectionable. And yet, it is this very quality that causes Eklavya to feel the most unease.
But before Eklavya can even begin to reckon with the uneasy feelings he has about his guest, said guest finally begins to stir.
The first thing Akali hears is the crackling of flames. The first things she feels however is the raw burning sensations of heat against her skin. At first, she thinks she's in hell. What else could explain it. Every single part of her feels as if it is being boiled alive. Her body is seizing in agony as it slowly regains the sensations she lost in the deep frigid cold. But before she can let out a scream her eyes adjust and she sees the tiled floors and artful wood carved trims of the room that she is in.
This is not hell. She is in a stranger's home. She cannot allow herself to be seen like this.
Without a sound, Akali grits her teeth as she brings her body to motion, seating herself upright with her eyes fixed on the fire before looking down to inspect herself.
She's covered, thankfully.
How mortifying, she thinks.
The possibility of being undressed in a stranger's home. These are however not the furs that she came dressed in. A thought she quickly pushes aside to deal with more pressing issues. With a quick turn of the head she glances across the entire room. Taking in the strange construction with its mixture of wood weaved through stone and clay. Examining the artful wood carvings and their luxurious details too numerous to take in all at once. Noting the presence of guards, all of whom are dressed in the very distinctive red and black flowing garments lined with furs that she knows is indicative of the palace staff of Kiramavat. Which then brings her eyes to the centerpiece. The Khan is directly in front of her. Positioned so perfectly in front of her there is no doubt in her mind that this is done so intentionally. And the Khan of the North is now looking down on her. All from the elevated stone platform where he sits upon his throne of polished steel.
The first thing that strikes her about this man is not his size, which admittedly is not insignificant though it is very clearly overshadowed by the man to his immediate right. Nor is it his complexion, so dark and rich it makes his whole face seem like an endless shadow, scrutinizing her from the underworld's throne. But rather, it's his eyes, more specifically, his eyelashes. Never in her life has she ever seen a man's lashes that were so... long. Truthfully, they're even longer than most women's. And are they curled? They are. So long, curled, and darkened they give his eyes an extremely elegant look that she's usually unaccustomed to seeing from other men, even amongst the royal palace.
Upon closer inspection, most parts of him seem to be more put together than one might expect from a Khan of a distant frontier palace. His hair is done up in these tightly woven curls that fall over the golden headband of the royal seal like dark blue waterfalls. His clothes, whilst made from local materials of woven wool and fur are perfectly fitted to highlight his impressive form. Even his facial hair is practically carved to the lines of his face, with areas darkened with kohl just like his eyes. None of these are entirely unique, the hair itself being somewhat close to what is in style at the capital but they feel too individual and personal to be the result of following trends. Rather, gives her the impression of the work of an artist, similar to one of the statues she's used to seeing in the various temples and shrines.
A supreme display of pride if that were to be true, but she can't deny it is effective in how striking it makes his image. But if this is his attempt to intimidate her, he will find himself wanting in her response.
"Who unclothed me?" Akali asks, staring directly into the blazing amber eyes of Eklavya as if it is a challenge.
"Is that really the first thing you ask to the person who saved your life?" he asks, resting his cheek on the back of his hand in a practiced, coordinated motion of unbothered control.
"It is a matter of concern, is it not?" she replies.
"A fair point. But I can assure you only the women members of the guards have had any hand in carrying and changing you into non-frozen clothes." he says.
"Good." she says back, glancing down towards the fur again but holding back a sigh of relief before looking back towards Eklavya on his throne. "You have my gratitude."
"I would not need it had you heeded the doubtless numerous warnings you would have received on your way over here." he says. The slightest squint of his eyes reveals his scrutiny on full display.
"My apologies, this was simply a matter that could not wait." she says.
"Is that so...?" Elavya remarks, letting the comment hang in the air for a moment before turning his head towards the very large burly man to his side as he begins to whisper things that Akali cannot hear.
Damn it all... I have no choice, Akali thinks before closing her eyes briefly to brace for the absurdity of what she must do.
"I am here to settle a matter of the heart." Akali says, loudly, for the entire room to hear extremely clearly.
In that moment, Eklavya's eyes widen to their limit as his body is frozen at the sheer audacity of what he has just heard. The entire room in fact is still, with not a single soul daring to even breath in their minds lest they have to be the one to break this agonizing silence. That is, except for the large man by Eklavya's side who, without even a single warning, bursts out into a fit of laughter so boisterous, so unapologetically brazen, that Akali has no doubt in her mind that he is surely about to be executed for his insolence.
"GYAHAHAHAHAHA, THE HEART SHE SAYS!? OH ARE YOU HEARING THIS!?" he shouts before slapping Eklavya's motionless body on the back multiple times. It almost looks like he's slapping a statue with how still Eklavya's being as his... companion... continues to fail to read the room.
"Ah sorry! Sorry just... lady that is the funniest thing I've heard all year! Oh! I can't breath! I can't-" the large man continues, almost gasping for breath as he holds back tears. Soon he is hunched over, laughing with the whole of his body now instead of just his lungs.
"Mustafa..." Eklavya mutters in a low growl so vicious it almost reverberates across the entire hall. But instead of ordering his immediate execution or banishment like Akali thought, he instead just sighs, bringing his hand up to press his fingers against his brow as he says with all the despaired acceptance of a man trying to scold a house cat "Is now really the time for this...?"
"I mean..." he wheezes, "You have to admit, it's a bit funny isn't it Lavvy?"
Lavvy?, Akali thinks.
"Whether it is hypothetically funny or not, we must consider the idea that perhaps, this woman might be serious." Eklavya dryly remarks as he rises from his throne.
"HAH! Serious! Ah that's a good one! And here I thought your sense of humor died with the rest of the flowers six winters ago!" Mustafa says, once again slapping Eklavya's back multiple times. Each time making a resounding clap that fills the halls. But soon he slows down as he notices Eklavya continues to remain as stone faced and resolute as he usually is.
"Wait..." Mustafa says, "You're being serious?"
With one raise of his hand Eklavya waves it and with that motion everyone except him and Mustafa leave the room immediately. Soon, all that is left is the dull glow of the fire and the three of them in this wide, mostly empty, room of stone which for some reason now feels smaller than ever.
The man besides Eklavya, a massive, hulking, hairy but still somehow genial looking plushy behemoth of a man known as Mustafa looks towards Akali, stroking his also strangely well kept beard as he examines her.
From his view, a striking beauty like her suddenly being so desperate to come all the way over to this slice of Naraka in the middle of winter just to see Eklavya for a 'matter of the heart' is unthinkable. Well, not completely unthinkable given his own personal estimation of the man, but if Mustafa was to be realistic about it, everything regarding Akali reeks of suspicion. Except the eyes. There's a sharp sense of wit about the way she looks at Eklavya, and even how she looks towards Mustafa as well. In that sense, her and Eklavya have that one commonality. But even then, he still has to ask.
"You sure you're not mistaken miss?" Mustafa asks Akali.
"No, I am not. He is the one I have come longing to see." she says without pause.
"I don't believe you." Eklavya says as he walks down the steps of his raised platform to meet Akali face to face on the ground.
In that moment, a hint of panic makes its way onto Akali's face. One she hides quickly but it is a moment that is not missed by Eklavya's eyes and she knows it.
"Whatever do you mean my lord?" she asks.
"There's a reason everyone else has left. You don't seem like you're here to kill me." Eklavya remarks, his voice as frigid as the air she had just escaped.
"I would never dream of it." Akali says, replying in the trained even tempered warmth of tone that had gotten her through many conversations in the court.
"Not without reason I would imagine." Eklavya responds without a single change in his demeanor, still poised and primed to defend against any strikes as if interacting with a wild animal.
"Do you imply I would have a reason to kill someone?" she asks.
"It would be a reason for you to seek me out, I am certain of that much. I suppose you are aware of my accomplishments on this front." Eklavya says.
"I would find it difficult to find anyone within these borders who isn't." She states.
"You have quite a bit of experience in the courts don't you?" he asks.
"I have spent my time there, yes. As any lady of my background will have done at my age." she says.
"That age being?" he asks.
"A bit of a rude question is it not?" she asks, raising her brow ever so slightly as the situation allows her to.
"Look, I'm not here to play these games right now." he snaps, his eyes now squinting as his brow furrows in mild yet very directed annoyance. "I know how this works. We can circle around this point ten or twenty times, however many you think it will take to wear me down and acquiesce to this scheme of yours but this is not the palace courts. I have no one here who I am afraid to offend, yourself included. So please, make this easier on both of us. Explain, clearly, why it is you are so hell bent on convincing me that you wish to marry, and why I should even entertain this idea?"
He's closer now. Closer than he should be. Either he truly feels completely safe in front her, which would mean he finds her harmless, or some of this is actually getting through to him and causing him to be emotional rather than logical. A potential weak-point, or maybe just a sign that this effort is failing. Regardless, Akali makes up her mind. This isn't the time to back down.
"Are you not wanting for a wife?" she asks, her face still poised and perfectly composed as ever, with her eyes staring at his almost begging the question through the way she looks at him.
And yet, all she is met with is a gaze of pure scorn. The fire in his eyes is blazing but not a single ember is of passion.
"I am wanting for many things but a wife is not one of them." he says, his voice resembling a tiger's more than a man.
I've made a mistake, Akali thinks.
"I didn't mean any disrespect by that-" she tries to interject but is instead interrupted herself.
"I think I've heard enough. If all you are here to do is waste my time then I have no reason to entertain you any longer." Eklavya says, moments away from raising his hand to likely tell Mustafa to bring Akali out of the room.
No no no, not like this! All this time! All this effort and for it to fall apart over a simple comment!? Think! Akali thinks to herself, using the entirety of her brain power to scrutinize the man in front of her.
A challenging task even under normal circumstances, but nearly impossible on the spot like this. It's frustrating. Everything about him, the way he expresses himself, the way he carries his body, it all seems designed to deceive. Even now, when he's clearly angry it's hard to tell exactly what the reason is.
Was it the comment? Did I make him sound desperate? No... no that's not it. Those eyes, they're angry, frustrated, but that's not what's really behind them. He's judging me, but as what? What is his criteria that I am failing?, she thinks. Desperate for answers where none are arriving.
But as she continues to fail to find any sort of intention behind his very being, there is one idea that slowly begins to take root. For in all of his body and face's lack of information to scrutinize, the one thing Akali is now certain of is the fact that he has chosen, no, fully immerses himself, in the methodologies of being inscrutable. It's something she's seen before in the courts, but only used briefly, rarely, to those few moments when people are forced to be brought together with those that are outside of their own circle.
That's it. she thinks. I'm approaching him like a royal. Which he is. But that isn't working. So what will? What does he want? What is one of the many things he apparently wants that I can offer right now?
Finally, Akali opens her mouth to speak once more, an action Eklavya is immediately prepares to shut down before she says "Are you wanting for honesty?"
In that moment, Eklavya, the Khan of Kirmavat, first son of the Padisha of Dharmachakra, waits. He waits in his motion to dismiss and instead says "Go on."
Akali, after all this time, lets out a sigh as she immediately relaxes herself. The poise, the respectful gaze, all of it, it's useless in front of this man. At least now she realizes this. So if she is to have this conversation at all she may as well do so comfortably, snuggling into the furs. Better to retain her strength than use it to maintain decorum.
"You are right, I am not simply here to marry you, though marrying you is necessary for my cause." She says.
There is a moment of silence, but soon Eklavya raises his hand again towards Mustafa, but not to dismiss Akali, instead saying "Bring me a chair would you?"
"Seriously?" Mustafa asks. "I'm not your manservant you know."
"Look you can bring a chair for both of us because this is likely going to be a long conversation so either we do this standing, or we do this sitting. Your choice." Eklavya says to him, crossing his arms as he waits.
"Ah, you can be a real pain in the ass sometimes..." Mustafa says before walking out the room to get said chairs.
Soon, Eklavya, Mustafa, and Akali are all seated comfortably around the fire, Mustafa himself even deciding to bring in a small tea set to pour for everyone present.
Akali, drinks up the warm tea and relaxes even further as she looks between the both of them.
They make an odd pair, she thinks. But there is something oddly reassuring by how carelessly they act around each other.
Regardless, it is her turn again to speak as she says, "My name is Akali, first daughter of the Singh clan."
At this point, Eklavya's eyes sharpen again as his body stiffens upon hearing this. "Wait... I know that name."
"I imagine you would. After all, I am your brother's fiance." she says, taking another sip from her cup.
Another round of silence.
"Weeeeeeell...." Mustafa says as he tries to get up. "Y'know, I think I might have left a fire lit in the kitchen or something, so I should probably go and-"
"Stay." Eklavya commands and Mustafa, like a dejected puppy, droops down and back into his seat.
Eklavya then looks towards Akali again, still visibly guarded as he asks, "Did he put you up to this?"
"It would be simpler if he did wouldn't it? But no, I'm sorry. I was truthful in that this is a very personal affair for me." she says, her eyes drifting towards the fire, imagining if her fiance is on the other side huddled by his own. Imagining what he might be thinking after hearing that she's gone missing. Imagining what it would be like for him to burn in it.
"Your brother has wronged me." she says, "And I am looking to right that."
"I have no doubt that he has. It's not out of character for him. Still, to what is the extent of this wrong that you have come seeking me out of all people?" he asks.
For a moment it is Akali who is silent. No matter how relaxed she is in these furs, next to this fire, drinking this, admittedly, very lovely tea, nothing will get rid of this discomfort.
"I found him in bed with another." she says.
Mustafa lets out a frustrated yet knowing groan, pressing a hand up to his face, but by contrast Eklavya seems unmoved, and most of all, unsurprised.
"He doesn't know this of course. I have a... habit, of walking around the palace grounds at night you see." she says.
"Trouble sleeping?" he asks.
"Something like that." she answers. "Either way, I'm quite used to hiding myself during these times so I am certain he did not notice me. But I heard every single word that he said to that-" she takes in a deep breath. "In three months time my engagement will be annulled. He will marry another, and he will make certain of it that it is my clan to blame for the annulment rather than his own."
"You mean to say he is willing to frame your family, the Singhs, just to annul an engagement?" Eklavya asks.
"Those were his words, yes." Akali replies, barely holding back the rage as she grabs the furs, tearing into them.
"How foolish can he be...?" Eklavya mutters to himself.
For the Singhs are not simply any normal family. For generations they are the loyal swords of the Padisha. An integral clan to the military might and rule of the empire, skilled in words as much as they are in swords which is usually second to none. Truthfully, it was only a matter of time until the royal family and the Singhs were to be joined in marriage and the fact that it would be to the second son, Indrajit, would only further cement his position as the true heir to the throne.
But to think, he would be this foolish as to completely cut off the hand of the sword just to think with his little sword. Eklavya thinks. But there is something else pressing about this matter.
"So you wish for me to marry you to shield your family from my brother's schemes, is that right?" he asks her.
"If we are to be wed, Indrajit will have a harder time moving against my family. Our combined armed forces is enough for them to think twice of offending us and he will, at the very least, have to think of another means to deflect the blame for our marriage falling apart." she says.
"Oh he will have other means. The other means being me, I am sure you realize this?" Eklavya says without a hint of sympathy in his voice.
"But- surely, you are already in terrible terms with him yes?!" Akali asks.
"And I believe your mistake was assuming I wish to be in worse terms." he says, rising from his chair. "Mustafa, bring miss Akali to her lodgings and send her back on a carriage when this blizzard finally lets up."
"Wait! Are you not looking for further support from the interior!? My clan still has connections!" Akali pleads.
"If you had enough connections to satisfy our needs you wouldn't be here to begin with." Eklavya says walking further towards the door out of the room.
"You uh, sure about this Lavvy?" Mustafa asks, still putting away the chairs and fully preparing to take Akali away once he's done.
"But together we can resist him! It will be difficult but it's not impossible!" Akali shouts.
"Do I look like I'm trying to resist? Do you think I am trying to drag the rest of these people into your hapless revenge?" he asks before looking back to Mustafa and saying, "Do I have to repeat myself?"
And with a heavy sigh, Mustafa says, "No, no I got it." before looking towards Akali and saying "Sorry miss, priorities."
"Wait! Please! You know how terrible he is! If he becomes the new Padisha things will only get worse!" Akali shouts as Mustafa is almost effortlessly dragging her away with his monstrous strength.
At this point Eklavya has stopped talking all together. He keeps walking. Further, and further away. Closer to that door. And Akali knows that once he reaches it, once he passes that threshold, this will be the last time she will ever see him again. And with it, she loses the last line she has to do anything about what will inevitably be the fall of her clan.
How can he do this? She thinks. Is he that cruel? That callous? Does this injustice not bother him in the slightest?
She thinks, thinks of what it will take to convince him. What combination of words and emotions is needed? What means can be used to entreat whatever is left of a heart inside of this man to actually be moved for once in his life. And as each option feels just as hopeless as the last, her mind goes deeper into despair. But for Akali, despair quickly shifts into anger.
How dare he? she thinks. Who is he to toss me aside so easily!?
Before, she tried playing the game of the royals. Then, she tried speaking to him as a person. But even then, she was still aware of her position. Still aware how much he held her life in his hands. Subconsciously, she was trying to respect the difference in rank that power held. But now? Now she truly doesn't care anymore. Let him be offended. Let him execute her on the spot. It doesn't matter. None of this matters. All that is important is that for once, she is going to tell a person like him what to do.
And so, from the bottom of her soul, she breaths in, taking in all of the energy of the world into her core before shouting it out from her mouth as a single word. "STOP!"
And he does. Not in that he was convinced but he quite literally freezes in place mid step, as if time itself has frozen around him and he is no longer able to move forward.
What? Akali thinks. But before she can even process exactly what just happened Mustafa draws his sword and points it towards her neck.
The warm geniality is gone and is instead replaced by the boiling rage of a demon that is one moment away from killing her as he barks "What have you done!?"
"I- I don't know. I swear! I didn't mean it I-" but before Akali can continue Eklavya's voice cuts through.
"Stop!" he says to Mustafa, and both Mustafa's and Akali's heads turn towards him.
He's still there, frozen in place, but slowly, as if thawing out from ice his body begins to move again.
"Well well well, this changes things." he says, stretching out his limbs, moving his fingertips, seemingly recalibrating his whole body as if it had just forgotten how to move.
But soon, Eklavya turns around to face them, and when he does both Akali and Mustafa take a few steps back frightened at the sight. For on his face is a smile. A coy, inscrutable smile, full of possibility, and for a man like this there is nothing scarier than that.
He is going to kill me, she thinks. She is fully convinced of this, and in preparation to die with dignity she takes in a deep breath to steady herself.
But instead of the sound of his sword drawing, she instead hears the sound of his knees scrapping against the floor. Followed by the feeling of his hand, his surprisingly warm hand, as it take hers.
When Akali looks back, she sees Eklavya looking up towards her, moments away from placing a golden bangle on her wrist as he says, "I know I came off as cold but I assure you I meant no personal offense. But..." He says, his eyes having an almost hypnotic quality to them in the way they stare at her. In the way they stare at only her. "Is it too late for me to ask you to be mine?"
Afterword:
So, what has convinced me to suddenly start writing a romance novel (if I choose to continue this) on the ATprotocol space? I don't actually know. It was mostly a whim. A whim that was fueled by me reading one too many of these "Cold Duke of the North" type stories and asking myself... why are there no hot brown people? Now I know the answer to that. The answer being these manhwas and manhuas are mainly written by Chinese and Korean people for the Chinese and Korean markets but as a hot brown person myself I just found the severe lack of hot brown people versions of this very flexible story format a little bit of a shame. Then I got into thinking about what even "The North" means and then I thought of the Himalayas and I was like "Damn that's a cool place to put a strong dude who fights demons on the border" and then it all just became a little bit too compelling not to do something like that with it. But now I'm here, and now I'm a bit of a crossroads.
Should I continue it? I mean, my test reader likes it, and I'm glad for that and that alone might convince me to keep giving it a go. But if you like it too feel free to send me a post or something. I respond well to external positive reinforcement. So if you want to help keep the motivation up just tell me what you like about it. A like on the post is fine, that's great, it functionally does nothing for me on an emotional level because my brain just turns it into a number and numbers only have meaning when they're big. But words? I like words. Words are great, you gotta put some emotion behind that. Still, after that there is another big question.
Should I make it horny? I don't really know about this one. I mean I couuuuuld. It wouldn't be the first time I wrote a bit of smut, though it would be the first I wrote something smutty in a novel-style format to be consumed by the public. Would I even say I'm good at it? I don't know, but it would be fun to practice. But the way I've left things so far the potential horny factor of this story could go either way from very horny to not even a little horny. So if you wanna pick a side on that debate, let your voice be heard to. I'm very susceptible to peer pressure when it comes to picking things on a whim, though I will let you know that even at it's horniest this is probably still gonna be a slow burn.
Either way, with all that done, that's pretty much all I got to say for this afterword. I wanted to make a more south-asian fantasy type Cold Duke of the North story, and this is my first shot. Also, here's all the links to stuff I was looking at when writing this. I think I learned some stuff, maybe you can learn some stuff too. We can learn... togetherrrrrr.
To be honest whether I use this information or not highly depends on where I go with the plot but I can't say it isn't relevant: https://www.britannica.com/place/India/The-Sikh-uprisings
This was a godsend. You know how poorly documented heraldry is when it isn't European?: https://heraldry.sca.org/names/indian_titles.html
I'm reading this right now, it will mostly be relevant for next chapter unless I somehow manage to avoid needing to talk about the farms, which I might. I could be clever like that: https://www.scribd.com/document/858627127/3000-years-of-agriculture-in-a-valley-of-the-High-Himalayas
If you want to look deeper into the male lead's name. This is very intentional: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ekalavya
Himalayan Architecture is cool. You should check it out guys: https://amazingarchitecture.com/articles/kath-kuni-architecture-origin-and-development
I don't really know how accurate this is but it was a decent jumping off point for trying to figure out how the hell they did hair back then and finding a way to twist it into a more modern hot kinda way: https://www.auchitya.com/hairstyles-in-ancient-india/#google_vignette
Still, if you find the above source lacking, which I did, you will despair when you realize there are few better ways to get inspo on this then apparently staring at some old as hell terracotta statue's: https://www.wisdomlib.org/gallery/new-delhi-museum-gupta-terracottas
Side note: Unironically, for a more modernized version of the above hairstyles, Warframe's Orokin characters are... weirdly kinda there with the hair in their own other-asian-greco-roman-style way. I guess Digital Extremes was really looking at all of the influences when making their design language for them and I kinda respect that.