Unwelcome Demands

ADITHYA

I woke up to the warmth of Abhimanya hugging me from behind. The silence in the room and the peaceful rhythm of his breathing lulled me into thought—how much my life had changed in just ten days. From being an unofficial prisoner in a palace to the future king's consort, everything felt surreal. Sleeping beside someone like this felt foreign and strange, even though I tried to act as though I was fine with the abrupt changes in my life.

Deep down, I was scared. The position I now held, a marriage I wasn't even asked for, living in an enemy kingdom, married to a man who seemed torn between hating me and being unable to resist his growing attention toward me—it all weighed on me. I was surrounded by a kingdom full of venomous vipers. And once Abhimanya discovered my powers and what they were capable of, I was certain he would hate me.

These thoughts swirled in my mind as I looked around the room, taking in my surroundings for the first time. The magnificence of it struck me. Abhimanya had his own palace within the main palace walls. It was stunning but subtly different from the main palace. While the main palace was built with pristine white marble, this palace had a greyish undertone with intricate floral carvings etched into the marble. The walls of his room were further adorned with gold and other precious gems, accentuating the artistry of the carvings.

Last night, I had been too tired and lost after the conversation with the king to notice the beauty of this place. But now, it all came into focus. Slowly, I removed Abhimanya's hand from me and slipped out of bed. Moving to the large window in the room, I gazed out. His room, perched on the third floor, offered a breathtaking view of the capital city.

The city bustled with life. I had read about Uttara before arriving here—how it was famed for its wealth, silks, and arts, from poetry to dance and painting. They said that in Uttara, you could find puddles of gemstones and gold exchanged as commonly as rice or wheat.

Watching the peaceful city below, I made up my mind—I would uncover the mystery behind my father's death, find out why I had to marry Abhimanya, and learn the truth about my powers.

A sudden knock on the door broke my reverie, bringing me back to the present. Behind me, Abhimanya stirred awake, his sleepy gaze settling on me.

"When did you wake up?" he asked groggily.

"Just now," I replied softly. Before he could say more, the knock came again, sharper this time, pulling us both fully into the day.

He rose from the bed, stretching briefly before heading to the wardrobe. After dressing, he moved to the door and opened it to find a servant waiting outside. The servant bowed deeply and said, "All the ministers are waiting in the meeting hall, Your Highness."

"For what?" Abhimanya asked. Lowering his head, the servant replied, "They are demanding to meet you and your consort right now."

"Alright, we will be there," Abhimanya said before closing the door. Turning toward me, he approached, standing just in front of me. "It's not even a day since we arrived, and they're already here," he remarked, his tone laced with a hint of annoyance. "Let's get ready."

"But why are they here this early?" I asked, unable to hide my worry.

"Who knows what our ministers have in mind," Abhimanya replied, his tone turning playful. It was then I realized that Abhimanya was accustomed to dealing with this.

The thought of standing before the seven ministers made me uneasy. Abhimanya, however, quickly showered and dressed. For the first time in our ten-day journey, he looked every bit the king he was meant to be. His navy blue tunic, embroidered with intricate gold patterns, and his matching gold accessories exuded authority and elegance.

"I'll wait outside," he said, smiling as he stepped toward the door.

"Okay," I replied, watching him leave. He'd been considerate since the day I told him I wasn't comfortable changing clothes in front of him. I'd promised to explain my scars when I was ready, and he never asked again. Instead, he always dressed first and waited for me outside.

I quickly showered and dressed, choosing an outfit that complemented Abhimanya's—a navy blue tunic adorned with delicate gold floral prints and simple gold accessories. When I opened the door, he was right there, waiting. A pang of guilt hit me as I saw him standing outside his own chambers, waiting for me. He smiled as our eyes met. "Let's go," I said, returning his smile.

As we approached the main palace, he glanced at me and said, "Stand proud, Adithya. Don't waver at their words. Speak with the same confidence you show in front of me." I nodded, determination filling my eyes.

When we reached the meeting hall, we stopped before the large double doors. Abhimanya looked at me, his lips curving into a sheepish smile. "Let's begin the show," he said, pushing the doors open.

The meeting hall was a grand space, its splendor designed to intimidate and impress. Along both sides of the room, rows of thrones gleamed, polished to perfection, their surfaces appearing almost golden in the light. The seats were covered with rich silk sheets and adorned with pillows, showcasing the wealth and status of the kingdom.

At the center of the stage stood two grand thrones, unmistakably the most opulent in the room. The king's throne, placed at the very heart, was crafted of gold and encrusted with gemstones, its seat and backrest covered in luxurious silk. To its left was the consort's throne, slightly smaller but designed to complement the king's seat, its elegance unmistakable.

As we entered, the ministers rose from their seats and bowed slightly, their respect more formal than heartfelt. Abhimanya led us to the stage, his steps steady and commanding. We stopped before the two thrones that exuded royalty and authority, though the king and queen's thrones remained conspicuously empty.

Abhimanya's demeanor was confident and commanding, yet his tone carried a friendly edge as he gestured for the ministers to sit. "Please, my dear ministers, take your seats. Let us discuss why we have gathered here today."

The seven ministers returned to their thrones, each radiating their own blend of pride and purpose. Abhimanya and I settled into our seats, the weight of their scrutiny palpable. His posture remained composed, while my unease simmered beneath the surface.

"What brings you all here today, ministers?" Abhimanya asked again, his voice calm but firm.

For a moment, silence reigned in the hall until one of the ministers stood. He appeared to be the internal affairs minister, his air of authority unmistakable. "My dear prince," he began, his voice measured, "we request that you take another consort."

The words struck me like a blow. Anger surged through my veins, and my fists clenched on instinct. I prepared to rise in protest, but before I could, Abhimanya's hand caught mine, a silent warning and reassurance.

He leaned toward me, his lips brushing close enough to send a clear message to the ministers: this marriage was real, and the bond between us undeniable. "Patience, dear," he murmured, his voice low but carrying enough weight for every minister to catch the meaning. "It's alright. Let them speak first."