Captivity

The darkness engulfed the clearing in the forestland of Dhuari while the campfire amidst it was fighting steadily with the wind to stay ignited. In its light, a caravan of tents could be visible. The thunder rumbled, jolting her awake. At first, Rajkumari Priyambada was clueless about the darkness that surrounded her. She couldn’t understand where she was. The place was cold and unfamiliar. The sound of rain pouring outside made her more aware of her surroundings. She moved her tired limbs enough to sit up on the soft bed. Removing the soft sheet from over her body, her eyes fixated on her bruised hands. Her body was dirty, tired and giving up on her alert mind. When the next thunderbolt lit up the whole tent and her moving figure made the guards stand alert at the entrance, all the memories of the horrifying incident came right back to her.

The land surrounding the mighty mountains of Heemdevi, and the five rivers, Maya, Stuti, Anant, Kanya and Gandak, was occupied by several small states constantly fighting one another for supremacy. Every one of them wanted to prove their capabilities of being able to rule the entire land of the five rivers and three seas, out of whom Suryapali and Neelambargarh faced the vast Chandasagar. For as far as the stories of yesteryears and the documented records are concerned,  neither of the states could acquire the land entirely. That, however, never stopped the wars. After all, men thrive on hope and power. The Sun clan of Suryapali was headed by the mighty king, Rajadhiraj Trikal Dev Varman. His kingdom was known for its best army formations and battle tactics. The adjacent kingdom of the Wind clan, Neelambargarh, was ruled by Maharaja Brahmagupta, especially famous for his patronage of art and culture, and their common neighbour was the kingdom of Chandramer, ruled by Rajeshwar Somdev of the Moon clan, whose kingdom was well-known for its trade routes. The river Maya made natural borders between Neelambargarh and Suryapali, while Chandramer was bordered by the Heemdevi mountains. These three mighty kingdoms were the most significant, and all the smaller kingdoms wanted to be their allies.

Neelambargarh had just emerged victorious against the Chandrameri army after weeks of a tough battle. It was rather an unexpected victory, all because of the heir apparent Rajkumar Prithvi Gupta, whose praises of whose bravery rang far and wide. The capital was lit up in celebration. The Maharaja was to make appearances with his queen Rani Surachana by his side, with his heir apparent Rajkumar Prithvi Gupta, his infant son Kumar Priyamdev and the only princess of the land, Rajkumari Priyambada, alongside him, distributing gifts to the kingdom in celebration of the victory. He had made up his mind to declare Rajkumar Prithvi the heir soon. 

Rajkumari Priyambada was dressed up in her chambers. Her doe eyes lined in collyrium, her dusky skin complementing the magenta robe she was wearing, studded with gems and golden work, her long black hair braided with flowers that smelled celestial.  Thirteen circles around the sun, counting and one more to go till her ceremonial choosing of the groom, Swayamvar. One more year in her beloved kingdom, among the people she loved. She would get a perfect prince, her friends often teased. After all, in nature, manner and grace, she was the most perfect royal in their eyes. Not that they ever saw another, but it didn’t stop the loyal noble ladies of Neelambargarh from worshipping their princess in anything she did or didn’t do.

The lights of celebration. The merriment and music. Feast and games. Everything was cut short by a sudden ear-splitting sound of the walls being breached by trebuchets. The bells on the Northern Towers of the palace rang fiercely. It was a call for war. The trumpets of almost a hundred elephants were heard at a distance. A challenge. From the roof of the palace, Rajkumari Priyambada witnessed with other anxious, scared eyes, the huge army of Suryapali waiting beyond the borders of their fort-capital, torches lit up in thousands in the darkness of the night.

Rajkumari Priyambada was in a trance. She could not fathom how long the war went on. Perhaps a week or so, but it felt like forever. She saw her mother sleepless, holding on to the infant prince and sobbing as she ordered the royal ladies to move to safety. Little did she know that was the last time she would see most of them. Her kin, aunts and cousins. The news of her father’s death, her elder brother’s corpse being mutilated by the enemy, kins missing or perhaps dead, the lost kingdom, flags being burnt, people fleeing everywhere, everything felt like a nightmare she wanted to wake up from. She was dragged by one of their oldest and most trusted guards, Moti, into the underground tunnel, where her sobbing mother embraced her. Priyambada eyed the crying prince in her arms as though in a trance of disbelief. He was just four and had no clue what was going on, yet his eyes were as scared as those of a fawn caught in a hunter’s net. Would he remember their father? Or Prithvi? They were not even halfway into the tunnel when the enemy soldiers surrounded them. She held the lit-up torch firmly in her hand, the dagger in the other and waved it at them as the guards fell.

“Save the prince. He is our only hope.” She heard her mother instruct the surviving guard to accompany them. She suddenly looked pale at those words. The prince? Or her son? What about her? The daughter? The princess? There was no time to think. Before she knew it, she was knocked out by someone from behind. Everything went dark after that.

Now Rajkumari Priyambada was in this alien place. Did they manage to escape? Was she dreaming? Was she dead? She gathered her courage to look out of the window at the burning torches outside. The lightning lit up the sky once again. The Golden Sun of the Suryapali flag made her heart skip a beat. She was a captive in the enemy camp. How did this happen? Where was her mother? Did they harm the prince? So many questions were hurled into her mind as she tried to get up and fell back on the bed. Her head hurt. She touched the tingling sensation and felt a bump on it. She winced in pain, suddenly remembering the last blow when she fell. The faint sound of her wincing alerted someone at the foot of her bed. She could now see a figure move in the darkness. A strange fear gripped her. She was well aware of how enemies treated captive princesses. She was trained for this day. Her hand reached her waistband, but the dagger holder was empty. Priyambada gulped. She was not going to go down like this.

“Rajkumari!” The familiar whisper made her eyes swell up. From the shadow emerged a figure of a pale girl, a few years older than her. “Urvi!” She heaved a sigh of relief, hugging her maid in waiting, “Oh, Urvi! What happened?”
Urvi looked away, letting go of her, unsurely. Priyambada’s face fell into silence.
“Urvi. Do tell me the truth. What happened to my mother? Is Kumar dead?”
“No...No Rajkumari. They… they are safe!” Urvi looked awkward as she caressed Priyambada’s cold hand reassuringly.
“Where are they?” Priyambada looked agitated. “I want to see my mother.” She got up, only making the guards look at her with cold eyes and alert weapons. Her knees felt too weak as she stumbled back into Urvi’s arms.
“My Lady!” She spoke in dismay, “Rest tonight, I will tell you everything in the morning.”
“Don’t be naive, Urvi! Do you think I am a fool that I will sleep peacefully in an enemy camp?” Priyambada snapped, “Tell me where my family is! I order you!”
“They left.” Urvi burst out sobbing suddenly as if it was hard for her to believe what she was about to say, “The only way to save Kumar’s life was to hand the kingdom and you over to them. We are captives of Yuvaraja Ishaan Dev Varman!”
“Nonsense!” Priyambada shouted, pushing her away. Urvi fell over a vase, sobbing as she hit the floor. “My mother won’t leave me here.” This alerted the guards at the door, and one of them gestured to the other, who came to check on them.
“Hah! You!” He spoke rudely as the girls froze in their spots, “Keep it down! Our Yuvaraja wouldn’t like disturbances.” Priyambada’s jaws tightened as she could sense him drawing his sword in the faint light of the clouds. “I am warning you.”
“We won’t. We won’t!” It was Urvi who got up and came in between the princess and the guard, stumbling a little on her way. The guard nodded at her. “Make your mistress understand. She is no queen here!” He smiled slyly, eyeing Priyambada, whose jaws tightened at his lecherous stare. Urvi nodded, pushing Priyambada back into the darkness. “I am telling the truth, Rajkumari, believe me. She didn’t have a choice. They left Devdoot and me here for you. The prince…. He… ” She almost whispered.
“You are LYING!” Priyambada threw the pillow she could grab at Urvi “My mother didn’t leave me here. I need to get back home. I need to…” She stood up and looked across the room at the guards now standing at the threshold again.
“Believe me, princess. If we cooperate, we will be spared. He will…”
“He is no God, Urvi! Don’t you understand? What happens to captives of the enemy? Especially women?” She made the girl look up, scared. “Don’t be a fool.” Priyambada snapped.

The concubine knew her job well. Although she was still a woman of service for the soldiers of Neelambargarh, she knew her body had no country, no home, or identity. Her job was to satisfy the men of taste and survive the cruel world. This was the Yuvaraja of the Sun Clan, who had now won over Neelambargarh. Anyone else would hate to serve him, not her. Her idea of loyalty knew no bounds. Because he was just like any other man she ever served and would ever serve. After a victorious war, the prince deserved a good time. That meant everything he preferred. The music, wine, his favourite perfume on her skin, his choice of aphrodisiacs, and experienced women hovering around him. She had been guided through it all by the concubines of Suryapali. Yuvaraja Ishaan Dev Varman lay back on the cushions, admiring the beauty that was his reward for the night. He was the heir apparent of Suryapali and a competent one at that. His younger half-brother Rajputra Ravi Dev Varman was not even part of the wars yet, and here he was leading the army alongside his father. Soon enough, they would declare him the heir and talk of his wedding to the princess of his choice, Kumari Advika of Mait. His thought was interrupted by the slipped-off drape wrapped around in a bodice, from the concubine landing beside him on the bed, she teased him with a smile and followed through with the rest of her clothes before he pushed her to the bed. 
The soldier outside interrupted his indulgence as the music stopped playing. 

They could hear chaos outside. “Fire! Fire!” Someone ran as they alerted the tents. Half-heartedly, he sat up and asked, rather irked, “What is happening?” 
“It is the Rajkumari, Your Majesty.” The soldier’s voice seemed urgent. Ishaan Dev frowned. 
“Who?” He asked, putting on the robe over his bare body. 
“The princess of…. Neelambargarh… has escaped.”