As soon as she said that he was late, Internal musings flowed through Veer's mind as he observed her radiant beauty—a sight that never failed to captivate him. "So, she was waiting for me! How adorable and enchanting she is—my heart races every time I see her," he thought, lost in daydreams of her honeyed words, a sweet melody he could listen to for eternity.
He started thinking of their wedding, their first night and how they become one. Their children and their children. Yet, his reverie was abruptly interrupted. "Hello? Are you okay?" the princess inquired, concern knitting her brow.
"Apologies! I didn't realize you were waiting for me," Veer managed to stutter, his composure momentarily slipping.
"It's nothing special," she replied, a slight blush coloring her cheeks as she brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I just wanted to meet the boy who created that miraculous drink. And I must say, you look much more robust now compared to our first encounter." She studied him curiously, her eyes alight with intrigue. "You appear… more handsome, more like a warrior."
But then, a nagging thought crossed her mind. "What if he's a prince from another realm, here for my sake?" Yet, she quickly dismissed the notion, chuckling to herself as she recognized the whimsical nature of the thought—perhaps more akin to a fairy tale than reality.
Both were caught in the web of their thoughts, unaware of the intricate dance of fate that lay ahead, where destinies would entwine, and the extraordinary would shape their lives forever.
Cough!
As the maid standing interrupted their thoughts. "Um, i only came here to order you to bring your drink to the palace's court, so make sure you bring it", ordered the princess with her erect posture and commanding voice.
To which Veer smile slightly, "as you wish my princess" said he bowingly.
My princess as now maid started to think what this Veer has just said, but princess oblivious to this with hands on her waist said "Good" and turn around and started walking. After walking for a few steps she turn and asked "i never got your name".
Veer, with a slight smile adorning his lips, turned to address the princess who had just acknowledged him. "It's Veer, Your Highness. Veer Mal," he proclaimed, a subtle pride in his voice, infused with an undeniable sincerity. The young princess, her brow furrowed in concentration, replied, "Hmm, I'll remember that," before gracefully departing, her maid trailing close behind her. With her exit marked the conclusion of this initial stage of a cleverly woven plan—a plan leading to something greater.
Now, buoyed by the knowledge of his name and the awaited performance he would soon present, Veer felt a newfound sense of purpose. The thought swirled in his mind: 'I will be remembered,' he mused wistfully. But just as quickly as the thoughts surfaced, he shook them off, redirecting his focus towards the temple before him where sacred prayers lingered in the air.
Veer entered the temple, the scent of incense wrapping around him like a comforting cloak. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, whispering fervent prayers for the success of his endeavor. With every word, he felt the weight of his aspirations—much larger than mere ambition, they were tied to the very fate of the people within the kingdom. After offering his thanks to the divine, he made his way to his modest shop where a different kind of magic awaited him. With rigorous attention, he began the meticulous process of crafting his famous elixir, each movement flowing with the precision of an artist.
Meanwhile,
the atmosphere in the royal court was taut with uncertainty, an uncomfortable tension that gripped the nobles like a vice. The once vibrant chamber, accustomed to the melodic strains of the veena and the peals of laughter echoing off the marble walls, now lay shrouded in an oppressive silence. Even the velvety plumage of the peacocks wandering in the palace gardens seemed to recognize the heaviness that had settled like a fog, they too were hushed, as if anticipating a storm.
In the grand hall where sunlight usually danced through the stained glass, shadows fell long and dark. Beneath the elaborate chandeliers, adorned with glistening jewels, the nobles sat rigid, expressions tense and eyes wary. The rustle of their sumptuous silks, usually an elegant symphony, now sounded sharp, each whisper clipped and anxious as they exchanged furtive glances behind embroidered fans and hidden scrolls. The blend of sandalwood incense and perspiration filled the air, creating a concoction that highlighted the chill emanating from the intricately carved stone pillars that had witnessed centuries of power struggles.
At the elevated throne on the lion dais sat the Maharaja, regal yet burdened, his heavily jeweled turban casting shadows on his face. His silence was not a reflection of peace; rather, it was laden with contemplation, a ruler grappling with the grim reality of war and its implications. Advisors murmured anxiously amongst themselves, skirting the delicate topic of conflict. Some suggested sending a diplomatic envoy, while others clamored for a full-frontal assault, insisting that if their adversaries wanted war, they would gladly oblige. Yet amidst this cacophony of opinions, the king remained a statue of thoughtfulness, pondering deeply. To him, war was not a solution; it wielded the potential to wreak havoc, instilling fear in the hearts of his people and fracturing lives.
Breaking the tense silence, the announcer's voice rang out clearly, "Your Highness, Princess Deviyani has arrived!" The princess entered with an air of authority and grace, acknowledging her father's presence with a respectful bow and taking her place at the royal table. As the ominous air thickened again, she rose from her seat, her demeanor unwavering. "My King," she began, her voice steady and commanding, "the unrest in the court has become a barrier to resolving our issues. To remedy this, I have invited the boy known as the Miraculous Boy, famed for his wondrous elixir, which not only refreshes the body but revitalizes both body and mind."