《Leelavati: The Queen Of Ashes》


 Chapter 1

    Rajasthan¡ªone kingdom, one god, one destiny¡ªwas never truly one. It was five vanshas. Suryaditya, Chandraditya, Vajrakhil, Garudraj, and Nagaditya. Since the dawn of memory, they had walked different paths, their ways of life shaped by sun, moon, war, wind, and shadow. Yet never had they raised steel against one another.


    "I know, I know, Aapaa!" the little Kunwar groaned, flopping onto the silk cushions. "You''ve told me this so many times, I think I''m starting to dream about it."


    Leelavati sighed, smoothing the folds of her lehenga. "And as the next leader, you should. A ruler who does not know his own history is like a sword without its edge."


    "It¡¯s time, Kunwari Sa," said Phuli, Leelavati''s handmaiden, bowing slightly as she stepped into the chamber. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and rosewater, the first signs of the haldi ceremony.


    Leelavati had been betrothed to Kunwar Veerbhadra of the Suryaditya Vansh when she was just seven. She had always known this day would come, just as the sun knew it had to rise. It was duty, written in blood and tradition, unchangeable as the desert wind.


    As she stepped onto the verandah, golden sunlight spilled over the marigold-draped pillars. The courtyards brimmed with laughter, and the streets pulsed with music and color as if Holi had arrived early.


    The songs began, women humming old melodies as they dusted turmeric onto her skin. The scent of sandalwood and rosewater filled the air, but beneath it all, something in her felt still¡ªlike a river just before it breaks into a storm.


    Across the courtyard, her father stood at the edge, speaking in hushed tones with a group of men. Their expressions were grave, their postures tense. A shadow of unease passed through her, but the crowd made it impossible to reach him.


    The rituals stretched on, their weight settling into her bones. The golden haldi clung to her skin, meant to bring prosperity and fortune. But what did fortune mean when one''s fate had been sealed since childhood?


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    That night, Leelavati sat by the window, tracing the cold marble railing as she gazed at the endless sky.


    "See, that¡¯s the Dhruvtara," she murmured, pointing to the lone, unwavering star.


    The little Kunwar yawned beside her, blinking sleepily. "It never moves?"


    "Never," she said softly. "No matter how lost you are, it will always guide you through the darkness."


    A faint breeze carried the lingering scent of sandalwood and marigolds. But something else drifted in¡ªthe sound of muffled voices.


    Leelavati turned, her gaze narrowing. The corridor outside her mother¡¯s chamber was dimly lit, but through the half-open door, she could hear it¡ªa quiet, broken sob.


    Her mother never cried.


    A chill crept up her spine as she stepped closer, the hem of her lehenga whispering against the stone floor. She stopped just before the door, pressing herself into the shadows.


    "What do you mean Suryaditya Castle is under siege?" her mother¡¯s voice trembled.


    Leelavati''s breath caught in her throat.


    "Yes, dear, we just received another message... and it¡¯s not good."


    Her mother¡¯s voice trembled, as if the weight of the words was too much to bear.


    "The Mughals are known for their ruthless nature. They won¡¯t spare anybody."


    A sharp intake of breath.


    "They have asked you to be there?"


    A long silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken dread.


    Then, her mother¡¯s voice¡ªbarely a whisper.


    "Yes, I will leave before dawn."


    Leelavati¡¯s fingers dug into the carved doorframe, her pulse roaring in her ears.


    Her father was riding into war.

 Chapter 2

    It had been three days since the khabri brought news of the war. The entire Garudraj fortress was cloaked in an unsettling silence, its people waiting¡ªpraying¡ªfor a sign of hope to guide them, like the unwavering Dhruvtara.


    Then, suddenly, a deafening bang echoed through the gates.


    Leelavati''s heart jumped. "Who could that be, Maasaa?"


    Her mother¡¯s brows knitted in concern. "Such an aggressive thud cannot be a good sign, Leela."


    ¡°The war has raged for a fortnight already, and we haven¡¯t heard from the khabri. What could be worse than that?¡± a woman murmured in the background.


    A chilling thought crept into Leelavati¡¯s mind¡ªwhat if Garudraj, like Suryaditya, was under attack?


    A wave of fear crashed over her, turning her skin cold. She had only heard and read of wars, of extreme practices like Jauhar, but the mere thought of losing her loved ones¡ªher home¡ªleft her breathless.


    Another thud shattered her trance. She bolted toward the gates.


    "Who is it, Dwarpal?" she demanded.


    The gatekeeper¡¯s voice was strained. "It is the Mughal general Kalamuddin Ali. We will do our best to hold them off, but you must take the women and children and escape through the underground passage."


    There was no time to think. She turned on her heels and rushed to the aangan, where the women huddled together.


    ¡°We must leave. The Mughals are here!¡± she called out, urgency sharpening her voice. ¡°We¡¯ll escape through the underground passage. Hurry!"


    She moved swiftly, guiding the elder women one by one into the narrow tunnel leading to the outskirts of Garudraj.


    Most of them had gone when she realized something¡ªKunwar was missing.


    Her chest tightened. Hadn''t she sent her mother in first to lead the group? Then where was Kunwar?


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    "Phuli, look after them! I have to find Kunwar!" she ordered before sprinting back inside.


    She searched his chamber. Empty.


    The terrace. Nothing.


    The darbar. No sign of him.


    Panic clawed at her throat. Where could he be?


    Then, the dwarpal came running. ¡°Kunwari-sa, Kunwar-sa refuses to leave. He says that, as the only male of the royal family present, it is his duty to protect the people.¡±


    Leelavati¡¯s blood ran cold.


    "He is twelve," she breathed. "He hasn¡¯t even learned what he needs to fight."


    She glanced at the tunnel¡ªonly a handful of women remained to escape. But her brother¡­


    She hurried toward the gates.


    "Kunwar-sa, you must leave with us," she pleaded, grabbing his arm. "If you stay, you will die. You are not as skilled as even the lowest-ranking soldier in our army!"


    "Strength comes from courage, Aapaa, not just years of practice," he argued. "Even Maharana Pratap fought wars as a child. That experience made him a warrior! Let me fight for honor!"


    "You are the only heir, Kunwar," she countered, gripping his wrist tighter. "If Bapu-sa does not return, you are all that remains!"


    The fortress trembled under another mighty blow.


    With a heart-wrenching decision, she yanked her brother behind her. "Dwarpal-ji, the fortress is in your hands."


    Then, with one final, thunderous crash, the colossal gates splintered. Iron groaned wood cracked, and the once-unshakable doors shuddered open.


    The Mughals had breached Garudraj.


    Leelavati¡¯s worst fear had come true.


    The fortress was vulnerable.


    She instinctively shielded Kunwar behind her, stepping backward as enemy shadows spilled through the gates.


    Just as the gates crashed open, a sea of Mughal soldiers poured in. But beyond them, past the chaos, a lone figure sat atop a black stallion, watching. Silent. Unmoving. His gaze met Leelavati¡¯s¡ªcalculating, patient, inevitable.


    The Mughal king had arrived¡ªnot for her, not for any one soul, but for the land itself.

 Chapter 3

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    The women and children had escaped, which was the only relief. But Leelavati, Kunwar, and the last handful of soldiers remained¡ªexposed and outnumbered.


    This was supposed to be the day of her wedding. The day she would be adorned in silk and gold was promised to the Suryadityas in an alliance meant to secure their future. But fate had twisted cruelly. The only flames that burned now were not of sacred rituals but of her home reduced to ashes.


    The fortress was in ruins. Her marriage was meant to reshape Garudraj¡¯s destiny. It had, but in a way, she had never foreseen.


    The Mughal chief had been watching her since the siege began, his gaze sharp, assessing. He knew. She and Kunwar were not just any survivors. They were royal blood.


    Hours passed as the Mughals plundered the palace, stripping it of its wealth. Finally, as they prepared to leave, the Mughal emperor mounted his horse and spoke, his voice cold and commanding.


    "I will gladly accept those who swear loyalty to the empire and serve under the Mughal banner."


    Silence followed. Then a lone Rajput soldier stepped forward.


    "Dying would be better than betraying our motherland. Jai Bhavani!"


    His sword flashed as he lunged at the Mughal chief¡ªonly to be struck down from behind. The clang of steel rang out. One death turned into a battle cry as the remaining Rajput warriors surged forward, preferring death over submission.


    Chaos erupted.


    Leelavati didn¡¯t waste a second. She gripped Kunwar¡¯s wrist and moved, her steps swift but deliberate. If they went unnoticed, escape was still possible. But if they were caught¡ªif the Mughals realized where the others had fled¡ªit would mean death not just for her, but for the women who had already escaped.


    Her body moved before her mind caught up, instinct pulling her toward the inner household. Somewhere behind them, the last warriors of Garudraj still fought, their cries piercing through the din of Mughal war horns.


    But this was no longer a battle¡ªit was a massacre.


    She reached the aangan, the courtyard once filled with laughter and gossip. Now, it stood empty, cold. Dead.


    Bolting the door behind her, she turned to Kunwar. ¡°We have to keep moving¡ª¡±


    A sound made her freeze.


    The clatter of hooves.


    Through the dust and flickering firelight, a lone figure emerged on horseback.


    The Mughal Emperor


    Without a second thought, Leelavati lunged for the ceremonial sword displayed on the wall. The blade was heavier than she expected, but she tightened her grip, her heart pounding like a war drum.


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    With a sharp breath, she charged.


    The Emperor barely had time to shift in his saddle before she swung the sword at his chest. He leaned back, the blade missing by a whisper, but she didn¡¯t stop. She twisted on her heel and slashed again, aiming for his throat.


    Steel clashed against steel.


    In the blink of an eye, he had drawn his sword, effortlessly blocking her strike. The force of the impact sent a jolt up her arms, but she steadied herself, gritting her teeth.


    ¡°Bold,¡± the Emperor mused, his voice calm, almost amused. ¡°But reckless.¡±


    Leelavati didn¡¯t respond. She pivoted, bringing the sword up in a fierce overhead strike, aiming to split his skull.


    He sidestepped, swift as a shadow.


    She stumbled forward slightly, but recovered, twisting mid-motion to swing at his side. This time, he caught her wrist mid-strike. Before she could react, he twisted sharply¡ªforcing the sword from her grip.


    Pain shot through her arm as the weapon clattered to the ground.


    Leelavati gasped, trying to yank free, but his grip was unyielding¡ªlike iron shackles. He pulled her closer, forcing her to meet his gaze.


    "Bravery alone won¡¯t save you," he murmured. "But I do admire it."


    Leelavati winced as the emperor¡¯s grip on her wrist tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh like iron shackles. His dark eyes, unreadable and unyielding, settled on Kunwar, who stood frozen behind her.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need you,¡± the emperor said, his voice calm, detached. ¡°You may live.¡±


    A flicker of relief sparked in her chest¡ªuntil his next words cut through her like a blade.


    ¡°But I cannot let that brother of yours walk away.¡±


    Leelavati¡¯s breath hitched. The weight of his statement was suffocating. She knew what he meant. He had done this before¡ªwiped out every last heir of his enemies. Not a single drop of royal blood was ever left behind when the Mughal army marched away. That was his way. His empire left no room for rivals.


    ¡°No!¡± She surged forward, throwing herself in front of Kunwar, her arms stretched wide like a shield. ¡°Please! He¡¯s just a child!¡±


    The emperor merely tilted his head, unimpressed. ¡°So were many before him.¡±


    Leelavati¡¯s heart pounded wildly. ¡°He¡¯s no threat to you! He¡¯s too young to fight¡ª¡±


    ¡°You underestimate the power of a royal lineage, Rajputani,¡± he cut her off. ¡°A cub may be small, but it still grows into a lion.¡±


    She felt Kunwar tremble behind her, his little fingers gripping the back of her bloodstained dupatta. But before she could plead further, the emperor moved.


    With one swift motion, he unsheathed his sword and swung toward Kunwar.


    ¡°No!¡± Leelavati lunged to block the attack. The blade sliced across her upper arm, searing pain erupting through her skin. She staggered back, her hand clutching the wound, but she refused to move away.


    The emperor let out a slow breath, irritated. And then, without hesitation, he shoved her aside.


    She hit the ground hard, the cold marble bruising her ribs. Dazed, she lifted her head just in time to see him strike.


    Kunwar let out a strangled gasp as the emperor¡¯s sword cut across his chest.


    Lelavati¡¯s scream tore through the aangan, raw and piercing, but the night was deaf to her grief.


    She scrambled toward Kunwar, her hands trembling as they pressed against his chest, trying to stop the blood from spilling. His breaths were shallow, his skin turning pale beneath the moonlight.


    ¡°No, no, Kunwar, stay with me,¡± she whispered, her voice breaking, her vision blurred with tears. ¡°You promised me¡ªyou promised you¡¯d listen.¡±


    The Mughal emperor watched her with quiet amusement, wiping the blood off his sword with the hem of his robe. ¡°You should be grateful, Rajkumari,¡± he mused. ¡°I could have let him suffer longer.¡±


    Her shoulders shook as she cradled Kunwar¡¯s head in her lap, rocking slightly, whispering words of comfort that were useless now. For the first time, she truly understood how powerless she was. No title, no alliances, no desperate prayers could have saved him.


    Tears blurred her vision as she ran trembling fingers through his hair, his body still warm, as if he were only asleep. But the stillness¡ªthe unnatural stillness¡ªmade her stomach twist in agony.


    She couldn¡¯t breathe.


    What would she tell her father? How could she face him, knowing she had failed to protect the only piece of family she had left? The weight of it crushed her chest, a suffocating grief that no amount of sobbing could lessen.


    A shadow loomed over her.


    The emperor watched, his expression unreadable, his sword still dripping red. His grip on the hilt tightened, then loosened, and for the briefest moment, something flickered in his eyes¡ªpity? Or was it regret?


    But just as quickly, he exhaled sharply, as if shaking off the thought. Without another word, he turned on his heel, his dark cloak billowing behind him as he walked away, leaving her weeping in the blood-soaked dust.

 Chapter 4

    The fires burned low, their once-roaring hunger reduced to occasional flickers in the wind. The scent of charred wood and iron filled the air, mingling with the heavy stench of blood. The Mughal soldiers were moving methodically, gathering their loot¡ªgold, jewels, silks, and anything of value that once belonged to Garudraj.


    But Leelavati saw none of it.


    She knelt in the courtyard, cradling Kunwar¡¯s still body in her arms. His head rested against her chest, his once-bright eyes now dull, his lips parted as if caught mid-breath. The warmth had not yet fully left him, and she clung to that, as if sheer willpower could keep him tethered to life.


    Her mind swam with memories.


    Kunwar, no running in the corridors. You¡¯ll fall!


    Kunwar, don¡¯t you dare climb that tree!


    Kunwar, when I am queen, I will make sure you have everything you want.


    She had promised him everything. But she had failed at the only promise that mattered¡ªto keep him safe.


    Tears spilled freely down her cheeks, her body wracked with silent sobs. Her fingers brushed the blood matted in his hair, her lips trembling as she whispered his name again and again, like a prayer, like a plea.


    Around her, the Mughals continued their work, unaffected by the grief that drowned her. They laughed as they divided their plunder, their boots crunching over the fallen Rajputs, kicking away discarded weapons like broken toys.


    She couldn¡¯t leave Kunwar here. Not like this. Not alone.


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    Her arms tightened around him. The world blurred at the edges, time dissolving into a haze of grief and disbelief. She did not notice when the emperor mounted his horse, preparing to leave. She did not hear his orders to his men, nor the shouts that followed. Her world had shrunk down to the cold weight in her lap and the hollow ache in her chest.


    But then, footsteps.


    She looked up, her tears distorting her vision. A group of soldiers was walking toward her, led by the Mughal chief.


    A strange, terrible realization dawned in her grief-clouded mind. They had taken everything¡ªher home, her people, her brother. But they weren¡¯t done yet.


    She held Kunwar closer, as if she could shield him even now.


    The soldiers halted before her. The chief, a man with a hardened face and cold, indifferent eyes, spoke. ¡°Get up.¡±


    Leelavati did not move.


    ¡°Take her,¡± the man ordered, already turning away.


    The first soldier reached for her. She recoiled, her grip on Kunwar tightening. ¡°No¡ªplease,¡± she gasped, her voice hoarse from weeping. ¡°You¡¯ve taken everything¡ªlet him have a peaceful death.¡±


    The soldier ignored her, yanking at her shoulder. She screamed, struggling against him, but she was weak. She had no sword, no strength left to fight.


    Then, rough hands tore Kunwar from her grasp.


    ¡°No! NO!¡±


    She lunged, her fingers grasping at nothing as they wrenched his body from her lap. Before she could move, before she could plead further, she saw it¡ª


    They threw him aside.


    Like discarded loot. Like nothing.


    A broken sob ripped from her throat. She scrambled forward, but a soldier grabbed her arm, wrenching it back. She kicked, thrashed, begged. ¡°Please¡ªplease don¡¯t¡ªhe¡¯s just a child¡ªlet me bury him¡ªplease¡ª¡±


    The soldiers did not listen.


    Someone yanked her hands behind her back, tying them roughly. She sobbed, twisting in their grasp, but it was useless. A strip of cloth was forced between her lips, gagging her pleas. The last thing she saw before she was dragged away was Kunwar¡¯s small, lifeless form, left abandoned in the bloodstained dust.


    The world blurred as they hauled her toward the waiting carriages. She barely registered the gold, the stolen silks, the chests of jewels. She was just another possession now. Just another part of their spoils of war.


    She was thrown into the carriage, her bound hands scraping against the rough wood. The door slammed shut, locking her in darkness.


    And then, for the first time since it all began, Leelavati fell silent.

 Chapter 5

    Leelavati was drowning.


    The world around her was a haze of blood and dust, the air thick with the iron scent of death.


    Kunwar lay before her, small and trembling, his hands pressed desperately against the deep wound in his stomach. His fingers, slick with crimson, clutched at her, reaching for her, pleading.


    ¡°Aapaa¡­¡± His voice was weak, choked with pain.


    She tried to move toward him, but something held her back. Her feet refused to listen and her body felt like stone. No matter how much she fought, she couldn¡¯t reach him.


    He sobbed, his small frame shuddering. ¡°Aapaa, it hurts¡­¡±


    Tears blurred her vision. She struggled, clawing at the unseen force restraining her. He was right there, so close¡ªif she could just¡ª


    A sword flashed.


    Kunwar¡¯s eyes widened. His lips parted in a silent scream as the blade drove through him.


    ¡°No!¡±


    Leelavati woke with a jolt, her entire body shaking. Her breath came in harsh, panicked gasps, her face damp with sweat and tears. She opened her mouth, a scream rising in her throat¡ª


    But the cloth gagging her turned it into a muffled whimper.


    Darkness. The carriage was still. The faint sounds of men talking, horses shuffling, and the crackling of a distant fire told her they had stopped to rest.


    She swallowed hard, forcing herself to steady her breath. Her chest still heaved from the nightmare, but the momentary haze of grief cleared, replaced by something sharper.


    This was her chance.


    Slowly, she shifted forward, her bound hands making each movement difficult. Her limbs felt heavy, her lehenga stiff with dried blood. She barely winced as she slipped down from the carriage, her bare feet pressing into the cold earth.


    One step. Then another.


    The night swallowed her as she moved, her breath shallow, each rustle of fabric sounding deafening in the silence. She inched away from the resting soldiers, forcing herself to stay calm.


    Then she ran.


    Pain flared through her body with every step, but she didn¡¯t care. She only looked back once, just to make sure no one had seen her¡ª


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    And slammed into something solid.


    She stumbled, barely managing to keep her balance. Instinctively, she bowed her head, her body reacting before her mind caught up.


    A mistake.


    Fingers clamped around her wounded wrist. A searing jolt of pain shot through her arm, forcing a sharp gasp from her lips.


    A voice, low and laced with amusement. ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re going?¡±


    She stiffened.


    Slowly, her gaze lifted, dread curling in her stomach.


    It was him.


    The man who had killed Kunwar.


    Hatred surged through her veins like fire. She wrenched at his grip, but her bound hands made escape impossible. He didn¡¯t even flinch at her struggle, his grasp tightening just enough to send another wave of pain through her arm.


    Leelavati refused to look away. She glared at him, her breath ragged, her entire body trembling with fury.


    He studied her for a moment, then reached forward, fingers brushing against her cheek as he pulled the cloth from her mouth.


    The motion burned against her chapped skin, but she barely noticed.


    ¡°What is your name?¡± he asked.


    She didn¡¯t answer.


    Instead, she lunged¡ª


    Her teeth sank into his hand.


    He inhaled sharply but did not let go. His fingers only tightened around her wrist, his strength overpowering hers effortlessly.


    Her chest rose and fell with labored breaths. Her arms ached from struggling.


    She was too weak. Too restrained.


    But the hatred in her eyes burned fiercely.


    And she would make sure he saw it.


    With her arm still in his grip, his fingers pressing into the raw wound he had carved into her skin, he pulled her toward a tree where a magnificent black stallion stood tied. The beast was pawing at the ground, its dark eyes wild and tamed.


    ¡°This is Aftab,¡± he said, his voice calm, almost amused. ¡°He was as wild as you once.¡±


    Leelavati barely heard him over the throbbing pain in her arm, but when she did, she turned to him with nothing but hatred in her eyes.


    The emperor stepped closer, lowering his voice. ¡°But wild things make me want to conquer them.¡± His grip tightened just slightly. ¡°Don¡¯t make me try that on you.¡±