A LINE BROKEN

He pulled at the reins sharply, forcing his beloved horse to an abrupt halt, the metal grooves nailed to the hooves, kicking roughly against the patio that he had once stood upon almost twelve years ago, a blazing fire erupting from the ground below to greet him before the owner of it could.

His heart had stopped, and his eyes gazed upon the hues of orange and saffron in agony, until finally his eyes caught a glimmer of the flame's daughter, her crimson dupatta outlined with streaks of orange to mirror that of the barrier before him.

She stalked closer, past his brother who watched her in a wonder of fear and awe; but his archer eyes caught the disdain threaded through his eldest brother's gaze, and he in turn found his own lowering.

But her silence had forced his eyes back to hers, and when he breathed the sight of her in, that very breath was found to be caught within the depths of his throat.

Her hair had been let lose, her luscious tresses cascading down her ever-green form, and her churamani forgone: a state of impropriety by the standards framed for them. And now the great archer understood his brother's disdain: for his wife stood before him adorning the outlook of a widow: a woman who had no husband when the reality was, she had five.

He looked at her; seeing the spite written in the sparks she emitted, and his own heart throbbed at the pain of the woman he hailed his beloved.

She looked up towards him, and he could see the sharpness to her eyes break by a mere fraction, for this was the same place, mere meters away that she had watched him leave her. He saw the tear and his hands shook at the sight of his constant failure towards her.

His lips wanted to utter her name, to say something, but she looked towards him like he was her biggest offender, and the sound turned deaf to his own ears, dying at the tip of his tongue, with the realisation of the flowered garland wrapped around his neck, a signal of his nuptial's hours prior.

He became unsettled, watching the way her breathing was laboured, his concern amounting after seeing her nearly a decade later.

The bitter pill of his guilt was a hard one to swallow, and with accusations written in her eyes, he could read the exact questions poised in her being.

He looked towards his brothers who stood in an orderly fashion, spectating the scene and he could read it within them too; the apparent guilt they all carried for making her life hell on earth, yet it was clear whilst his remaining brothers seemed to respect the bond he shared with their wife, his eldest held an edge of contempt as he watched the two.

"Araya." She finally breathed, the syllables holding a degree of hostility, that caused his heart to freeze mid beat. And he had to will his eyes to remain focused into her own.

"You have broken the vow made at the time of our marriage." She hurled out, and his head fell in shame. The look in her eyes of pure betrayal began to choke his soul, as it begged for the breath that he had always said she was. He was suffocating; and the ache to his heart had aided in taking revenge for the pain he caused her. The two things: his heart and soul which both belonged to her subjecting their punishment justly.

He knew he should have used that pregnant pause to his advantage, as an attempt to plead his case, yet his body held him hostage, his hands clenching tightly against the reins that he had long forgotten where in his hands.

"You have broken my trust Araya." And he knew only she could kill him with such words. He looked towards her at this point, a protest aimed at his lips, a desperate attempt to salvage the shards he was responsible for making but she was now past the point of listening.

And with finality in her words, she had sentenced him.

"You and your wife have no right to enter the city."

She was quick to dismiss the apparent shock to her words because her eyes were still meeting his, conveying the thousand other words that seemed to be wedged between her heart and mind.

And with a final look in attempts to satisfy the heart she knew was his, she turned around, effectively dismissing the presence of her other husbands who stood staring at her in mild disbelief. She wanted to laugh then, because she knew they were questioning her audacity, but she was moulded by the flames to be regal, and sentencing her husband, her love, her soulmate to clear abandonment fanned the surge of her fire.

She could hear him behind her, shouting her name, calling out for her desperately yet it wasn't until she heard the plead of Krishnaa as she turned the corner, that her feet stopped at the command of her soulmate. And it was with his distant cries of that very name, that caused her eyes to finally release the tears she had been keeping at bay.

And at precisely that point as Arjun walked closer in a desperate attempt to get her to listen, the flames grew as a means of prevention, roaring at him on behalf of their master whilst his own desperation shot out to plead for mercy; to let him go after her yet it remained futile.

Hours seemed to flutter past, every awakening second tormenting as he stood forced to now wait by the side of his cousins, uncles, and grandfather; his mother and Gandhari trekking inside to speak to his fire born who had now closed her heart to him; and he watched rather painstakingly as she was forced to abide by her duty.

She had greeted the elders with compassion, forcing a smile against her goddess like features, but the moment she caught his eye it had fallen. He watched as his mother wordlessly handed her a thali, Gandhari gently placing a hand on her shoulder as a means of reassurance that his own mother failed to extend, and he watched as she took small steps towards him, eyes lowered. Hidden from him.

"Putri it is time to welcome Arjun and his new bride."

Amongst the ache of his heart and the screaming of his soul, he had forgotten the presence of his new wife who seemed preoccupied herself, but Arjun could do nothing but watch as his first wife's grip against the metal tightened.

She took a more confident step towards him, settling into the aura of the Queen of Indraprasth aptly; carrying out her duty with due diligence, and as his eyes rushed over her form, he noticed the loss of weight; and the whispering of servants who had scurried past him prior, rushed back to greet him. They had stated that in his name, in light of her love for him, she had forgone her royal lifestyle. Slept outside, ate minimal, all whilst handling not only the finance and wealth of the country but also taking over the position he had left in his wake.

He could see the marks of a bow pressing into her exposed shoulder blades and he was overcome with a sense of pride of the woman in front of him. Of his wife.

Yet the tight grip she had on the thali was slicing through her palm, and as he watched her apply the tilak to Subhadra, he noticed the blood flowing from the self-inflicted gash, his heart wincing at the sight.

His first wife seemed mildly unaware of her wound and as she looked towards him to apply the same tilak, her eyes faltered away from his, avoiding him whilst his cousins and uncle smirked at the clear plight.

She showered him and Subhadra in flowers, the blue lotus petals falling around him and just as he took a step forth to say something, she stepped back falling into line besides his mother and aunt simultaneously. He noted the way Gandhari seemed to wrap an arm around her pulling her in to her motherly embrace whilst she looked away from him, wiping something that he knew was a tear from her face.

It wasn't until what felt like hours later did Arjun finally have her within eyesight once more, and as she stood in adjoining food hall alone, delivering orders to the ladies that listened obediently to their Queen, he stood behind her as she dismissed them.

He walked forth, noting the way she seemed to freeze, and he knew that she knew it was him.

She moved abruptly but despite her training the warrior queen was still no match for his reflexes. He caught her forearm in his palm, wielding her to halt as she squirmed in his grip.

"Let go." She breathed out. And he could hear it in her tone. The tiredness.

He wordlessly brought forth her bleeding hand, looking around the food hall and taking a hold of some herbs that had been ground into a paste. He applied it gently as she attempted to shake out of his grip, yet he remained firm.

"The pain you've given me is incomparable to such a superficial injury Rajkumar. There is no need to play hero. That may have won over your other wives but not me."

His heart seemed to thunder in light of her words.

But he continued through his act, ripping his upper garments to wrap around the wound to prevent infection.

He looked towards her.

"You're right. The constant pain I've given to you is more hurtful than this wound could ever be, but you take that out on me. Not yourself. Never yourself." He seemed to half plead, and she was lulled into silence by his words.

But she retreated with conviction, ripping her palm out of his and turning away from him, and he was left to watch and listen to his heart bleed in protest.

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Hope you guys enjoyed this one.