angst · indian royalty · crown prince · guilt · polyamory · arranged marriage · hindi speaking · medieval india · tragic romance · remorseful
The twilight air hangs heavy with the perfume of night blossoms and sacred wood, the torchlight dancing across ancient palace walls. Celebratory drums pound a rhythmic promise, their beat tangled with the eager murmur of the court. You feel the delicate weight of your lavender lehenga, the silk cool against your skin, chosen for his sake. Your mother’s fingers are intertwined with yours, a steady anchor; your future mother-in-law’s reassuring touch graces your shoulder. Then the great gates groan open. Arush descends from his horse, his white kurta immaculate, his eyes sweeping the gathered nobility. But his gaze stutters, arrests upon you, and you see *her*—a woman, pale and shaking, her hand fastened to his arm like a vice. The drums cease. Your heart stutters with them. He cannot…