THE FRONT LINE

He does not pass his brothers a look as he leaves. The fight that erupts in concern for her is enough to rip their unity in half, and as his mother stands listening with an expression that holds nothing but blame for his wife, he does not pause to offer her condolences like the dutiful son should. His mind far too occupied with thoughts of his fire born to plead anymore sense of filiality.

He takes his bow as he strides past on a journey of reunion and when he stands at the edge of their kingdom, at an impasse his gaze falters.

He thinks then of the times he has stood at the doorstep to their kingdom with her on one side and he on the other. He thinks of her gaze, the betrayal; the crestfallen lotus eyes that held her love and hate in tandem.

He mounts his horse by pushing the stable boy harsher than he intends. He mutters an apology in rushed sincerity and as he pushes his feet in the stirrup, he pulls the reigns of his beloved horse harshly. He soothes its white mane when his horse stutters with a whimper of pain, and as he whispers his need to get to his fire born, his beloved mare breaks off in a stride to unite his master with his wife.

He looks back for a moment, thinks amongst the tears that soon gather in his eyes that he sees the hues of her silhouette. He sees her decked in red, dressed as a flame with its embers ghosting of her form; and his horse pushes away from his attempts to go back to her.

His archer eyes catch the tear that falls from her eyes and when he looks down at his side, he sees himself decked in his exile uniform with his bow in hand. His counterpart won't look at her, just as he had done twelve years prior and when he gives in to his desperation, in hopes of a glimpse of her once more she is no longer there.

The tear falls from his eyes instead and he seems to be transported into real time. He makes quick movement; thinks he hears his brothers from behind him, but he ignores them. He does not have the time. Not when she is out there doing Gods knows what. His eyes close at the thought and as he utters the name of his beloved Madha, he anchors his mind.

He needs the composure and stillness to find her, to soothe her raging flames. He continues to meditate the name of his soul brother, and as he calls the god of destruction in his next breath, he destroys the spiralling thoughts that leave him breathless.

He treks through the descending night at high speed, passing the banks of Indrasachi, he thinks of their conversation mere hours ago. He travels the routes she had spoken, her harmonious voice with a hint of ominousness ringing in his ears as he continues. He notices then as her voice calls for him, hove marks that are fresh as day.

He follows them like a guiding ember and as he steps over the line of trees acting as cover, he is taken aback by the size of the army camp that lies far too close to home.

She had been right, and he half wishes that his brothers were here to witness their doubts in her turn into their reality.

A profanity slips from his lips when he catches a glimpse of his wife dressed as the flames, she had emerged from, edging closer to enemy territory.

He jumps over boulders and breaks into a sprint to cover the distance between them, leaving his horse in sanctuary. His hair barrels against the wind, and as he jumps over another set of obstacles he watches as she sets fire to heaps of tents. It is a move known to man, a tactic shared and used amongst many; a risky move with many calculations of error and it is in that moment as he watches her tie the ends of her veil to her face that his brother's words come back to haunt him. The words of her self-destruction in the wake of her losing him.

His eyes close for a moment he knows he does not possess, and as his guilt catches in his throat for the woman he had deserted in physicality he breathes a prayer of forgiveness. He wonders if she hears it from where she stands and as she pauses, a hand coming to her heart, he knows she has.

Her own eyes close then, and as his too flutter again to mirror hers, he listens to the heart that is hers knowing she is listening to the heart that it is his.

Their eyes open and she seems to look around in the haze of the growing flames for a moment until she cannot no longer.

She has a mission, a duty: to her people and to her country and as she realigns herself so does, he.

He steps closer past the guards she had danced her destruction against, and winces at the blood he sees spilled.

She steps forth and as he loses her amongst the flames, she wields he sees her guide out her men. She directs them in hushed tones to the banks of Indrani that trek a longer route back to the kingdom but provide more cover. He remembers it being the route with traps he hopes their men can evade and for a moment he thinks not of the repercussions of alerting their enemies of the route prematurely. It is smart move to direct their enemies through a longer track, gives them ample opportunity to gather their forces if they reach closer to their city boarders and with it, her deception would almost half the force in the time created.

He gives her credit where it is due and as the men take rushed steps with predominant limping and clear exhaustion she stays perched at the back.

She signals them in a flurry of hand movements; a wordless signal he had written in a novel before leaving her for twelve torturous years and as they mount onto horses he sees an old general coaxing; he sees the same worry amplified on his face for his wife. For the Queen of their country.

His eyes turn back to his wife then, a conch shell sounding, vibrating against the atmosphere in a delayed alert and as her head turns sharply at the sound, she breaks away from the group completely.

He predicts her move almost instantly and tenses. Her men fall back on her orders and as a cavalry grows closer another curse threatens to leave his lips.

She stands unrelenting in the middle of a storm, holds her stance gracefully, the enemies gazing with ferocity and as she transitions through movements that he faintly attributes to Shiv's tandav, he sees her on a violent rampage, surrounded and outnumbered.

Her steps are halted at the sound of an arrow being notched, and her feet halt. She stills almost dangerously her eyes skirting around the expanse of her surroundings. The arrow comes for her head from her left and as she moves, further movement is restricted by a sword at her neck, and he too is robbed of breath at the sight. She curses, and his archer eyes gaze in worry.

"I do not want any trouble." She states her hand up in mock surrender. He cannot help but scoff at her words from the distance, his own anger rising at her carelessness with her life. But he waits, gathering his bearings. The strategical advantage of him waiting is far greater than him risking exposure. He has faith in her ability and decides to stay back to cover her if need be. Her words to the enemy is awarded silence and as seven warriors, bulkier and heavier than she step forward, his breath catches at the sword that lands too close her neck for his liking. It draws blood and his fists curl.

She pulls the blade away, almost uncaring of the way it digs into her palm, nor caring of the resulting blood that marks the blade. She swings herself underneath the haphazard swing of the sword that comes once she releases it, and she launches her elbow up in the face of her attacker.

She pushes herself down to take out his legs and as he topples, she grabs for his bow and arrows in a shift but reckless movement. She pauses momentarily, armed with his chosen weapon, that transcends him into a haze of bliss from just after their marriage.

He hears her laughter ringing in his ears, sees himself behind her guiding her stance, his lips lingering near her ear. He remembers fondly, the feel of her against his chest, the intimacy trapping them in an ever-green desire for each other.

The haze extends into reality, and he finds himself smiling despite the circumstances.

"Where is your King?" She questions. She gains no response, and swords are raised in response. She pulls her first arrow. She pulls at the string to the bow, her eyes blazing with fire.

"Retreat." She warns but the men remain unmoving, unwavering despite her warning.

She smirks then, and he sees fire embers spark from her body then.

"Come and greet death then." She hisses and releases her first arrow. It impales her first attacker in the head. She runs forth, jumps, rotating in the air. Her body twists against the atmosphere as she aims for another, the advantage she obtains mid air allows her to take the warrior's heart ruthlessly, and as he crumbles with resistance; she lands graciously near the head of the other she splits with a third arrow.

His eyes shine with pride as he watches her, the formidable warrior she has merged into under the guidance of circumstance. His lips lift into a smile as she looks past her attackers. Their eyes meet briefly but in her distraction a sword comes from behind her. She rolls to her side narrowly missing the attack, her eyes ripping away from his.

She releases a sharp breath, taking the fallen sword at her side that comes to her in a moment of pure luck. She pushes herself forward and stabs the fourth man.

The fifth, sixth and seventh come towards her in quick succession and she resorts back to her arrows. The fifth is taken by an arrow to the eye, and as she reaches back for another, she finds none. It is as she clutches onto air that his smile falls by a fraction, he pulls the string of his bow, and as he mutters a mantra for her, an arrow emerges.

He releases it in the next breath, taking down the sixth man in a violent move to protect her. She moves to the side runs and makes to grab the arrow from the chest of the man he had shot to pieces in front of her.

She launches his arrow from her palm stabbing it into the neck of the seventh warrior, and as he chokes on his blood, bleeding away his life, another influx of soldiers step forth. They greet her in tandem.

The soldiers are relentless in their attack, and she finds herself growing tired, he to noticing her labouring chest. She falls to her knees to gut the next offender, narrowly missing the blade that comes for her.

Her steps fall back, out of arrows and without a sword. She pulls her bow from her body, trapping another opponent in the strings. She chokes the heavy man with it, swinging her body onto his shoulders, pulling with a might he thinks would rival his second brother. The string snaps and as blood spills from the neck of the man, he collapses, taking her with him.

Her back slams roughly into the ground and as she looks to the side at the amounting forces, he steps before her. She gathers herself up, and as he covers her, he releases an arrow that splits into over a hundred arrows mid-air.

It takes out many of the men coming, and as she stands, she pulls for a sword.

She avoids his eyes, and his lovelorn look cascades upon her as she takes her place by his side. His gaze turns to the enemy, and as an arrow travels to his wife, he catches it with his bare hand before it can impale her in the chest. Her gaze wonders to him then as he throws the arrow to the side.

He releases a series of arrows in the next moment, the thrum of his beloved Dhanush providing her with a rhythm for her sword fight for those who manage to get closer.

His eyes falter to her, and as he watches her unaware of an incoming attack, he pulls her into his chest.

She falls into it, and as their chests collide a spark ignites from them both. His eyes lower into hers an arm wrapping loosely around her waist.

He takes her sword, personifying the God of destruction striking down his wife's offender with ease.

He takes her hand then and pulls her to the route he had seen her men take. He releases her for a moment signals her with his gaze to carry on, and as he turns back for a moment, he calls upon her element opposed to his own.

He draws out a line of fire, watching as some succumb to the flames whilst others begin to track a plan to tackle the flames. A few men manage to pass the flames, but he does not stick around long enough to watch.

He catches up to her as her veil falls from her face, and as he reads the exhaustion in the contours of her eyes, he takes her hand to lead her once more.

They are followed and as she runs, half-limping now and then she collapses with exhaustion, her foot catching on a thorn. A sharp whimper escapes her lips, her chest laboured and as he looks at her, they are soon surrounded.

The sword comes for her before it can come to him, and he intercepts the attack on her with his own sword. The clash of metal rings loudly. He makes quick work of the offenders, and as she looks to him, he stretches out his hand. She takes it, and as they take off again, they continue running until he thinks the distance is enough for a fraction of respite.

He lowers her down onto a boulder, disappearing momentarily before returning with a few herbs and some water. He cleans her wound on her feet wordlessly despite her initial attempts to fight him on it.

"What are you doing here?" She questions, her voice hoarse, staggering to her feet after batting his patient hands away.

He looks up at her patiently, raising from his perched position between her legs and catching her as she stumbles. Her hands come to rest against his biceps and as she attempts to push him back in the next breath, he overpowers her, forcing her to sit down.

She attempts again to stand, but a hand upon her thighs is enough to keep her in place. He turns back to her wound, bringing her foot to rest upon his thigh and as he rips his upper garment to wrap her wound, he takes her right hand in his to look at the wound upon her hand. He shakes his head, applying the paste as gently as he can manage.

"Why are you here Arjun?" She asks again.

"I came for you." He states, his tone clipped, his breath dancing upon her skin. "I came after you because you left in a fit of rage with no plan and no backup." Her eyes lower by a fraction.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He asks sharply. His tone is cold, and he notices her flinch.

"I needed to save them." She attempts to salvage.

"Not at the expense of your own life." He shouts. His voice thunders violently, the wielder of thunder watching her in his own anger. He shakes his head and wraps her upper arm and hand in another fraction of material.

He tightens it sharply and as he leans up to look at her neck, he brushes her hair away from the wound. One hand comes to rest against her pulse point, coaxing her to him.

He breathes heavily taking the paste to his fingers and gently massaging it into her wound.

He looks up at her then, her own gaze mirroring love she had kept concealed from him for far too long. Her gaze seems to soften, her hand ghosting forward into his curls as though in a trance.

"I missed you." She breathes softly, tears gathering in her eyes. He sighs gently, as the tear spills from her eyes.

His head falls then, her tears falling into his hands as her head falls into the crook of his neck. His eyes close, his hopes, his dreams of her finally being his manifesting. His hand shoots up to her head, keeping her close, his hand soothing her ebony hair.

"And I you." He responds, his voice husky.

He thinks the moment lasts for eternity and as she pushes herself away momentarily, her hand comes to cup his jaw.

He leans into her touch, his eyes closing at the tranquil peace.

"I am sorry." He finally says. For all the pain he had caused her, for the constant betrayal, for his desertion of her, he apologises for it all in one phrase he knows will never be enough.

"You said you loved me." She states then.

"And then you left. Twelve years Arjun!" He watches the tear that falls.

"How could you do that?" She chokes on a sob, and his eyes close at the pain in the sound. His guilt is apparent from the way his gaze falters and as his mouth opens to reaffirm his love she stands abruptly.

"We need to keep moving." She says and as she moves around him, his eyes close for a moment before he stands and follows her.

He watches her from behind, sees the way her shoulders tense in a regality that is nothing more than a façade.

She is pushing him away again and he wants nothing more to pull her back into orbit.

She stumbles harshly, and with rushed strides forth he catches her against his chest. The moment is one of electric intimacy, his heart thundering along with hers. Her gaze shifts haphazardly, and as he guides her to stand, she moves forth at a slower pace with her closer to him.

"I needed you." She says in a gentle whisper. Her eyes meet his.

"I was alone, and I needed you, but you weren't there." She shakes her head, and his head falls in defeat.

"Do you know how I managed to get your position?" She asks then, and as her gaze seems to linger on his for a moment, he watches her mince her words. "Well, I can tell you I had no help from any of your brothers."

Her throat dries. "When you left, we were threatened by Takshak and his men." His eyes widen.

"It was a fit of rage and revenge completely unexpected and the timing was all off. Their scouts had picked up on your exile and they timed an attack." She looks ahead.

"We were lucky that our spies picked up on it. Your second brother was suffering under the weight of his responsibilities as crown prince and your younger brothers were in no mental position to take on the mantle or the responsibility."

She looks towards him. "I offered my help. Told them I could do it, and your brothers laughed. They didn't mean it to be cruel, but they did mean their doubts. I was relentless with pushing for it, and it boiled down to them making a challenge. The first was simple, a war council meeting, a simple discussion about tactics. It was politics and I played every man in the room until they were out of ideas and out of scope. But it was not enough to garner the respect of the men in the room. There was no pride in your brothers' eyes and when I looked for you in that moment you weren't there."

She shakes her head. "The second challenge was harder. A fight, or rather a strategy to test my strength. It was your eldest brother's idea, and I fought him, and I fought your other brothers. If you were there, I have no doubt you would never let it happen, but you weren't." Her eyes ghost and his eyes blaze with tears, his guilt choking him.

"When I bested them, I saw something in their eyes, and when they had your generals step forth to challenge me, I fought, and I fought until it broke me. I emerged victorious, and with it I made the decision to undercut your brothers. I made them give me the position and I made them vow to never undercut me in these matters. I told them that whilst they may be the Kings of court that I was the King of matters concerning war."

She looks towards him. "When Takshak came, I led us to victory, despite conspiring generals and active politics designed to set me back. The conspiracies were horrid webs, and I was left deserted by men who pledged loyalty to our army regardless of the commander in chief. I had no way to stabilise the army internally and so I used an external advantage to disbalance the internal coup against me. I brought in generals from Panchal and Hastinapur to back me. It was bold move and it cost me support from your brothers, but it is what I did regardless of knowing the consequences." Her steps pause and as his eyes soften.

"I have explained to your brothers on numerous occasions, that I work with bold movements. They think it is reckless and deceptive, but the real issue is not their worry nor their concern. It is the fact that I step on toes and that I do not care that I am."

Her eyes clash into his. "You asked me earlier what I was thinking. I was thinking about the men who have supported me from the start. I was thinking about the need to repay them for their loyalty and the only reason why your brothers' were against the tactics, the deception was because of the loyalty those men showed me. It was because their loyalty to me superseded loyalty to them. Your brothers may have painted their lack of fondness for deception, but they practice it in politics every day. It is what they have to do to keep the court from fracturing."

"I do not fault them for that. But I do fault their hypocrisy."

He does not know what possesses him when her words even out, but he holds her against his chest, arms tightening against her waist.

"I'm tired Arjun." She breathes evenly, her hands tightening despite the war he knows erupts between her mind and heart.

"Then rest." He states gently. "I wasn't there before but I am here now, and I will never ever allow something like that to happen again. I will stand by you; I will protect you and I will shield you from everyone. You can rest now Priye. Let me fight with you, for you." His words thread a vow into the atmosphere one he wishes to uphold, despite conspiracies of fate that he stands unknowing off.

He hears his beloved horse and as she steps just a fraction out of his embrace, he pets the animal gently, its head nudges his wife fondly.

She laughs then, and he becomes captivated at the melodious harmony.

"We need to head back." He states, and she pauses for a moment, hair whipping in the wind.

She crouches down to the floor, palm to soil. Her eyes cast into his with alarm.

"They're coming." She states, and a curse escapes him.

"We won't get back in time to raise the army to defence."

She shakes her head. "Let me borrow your bow."

"Priye between myself and Madhav no one can wield this." She fixes him a gaze of amusement.

"You think that the God of Fire, my father crafted you this, and would not allow his daughter to wield it?" She steps closer, palm outstretched.

"Even if my father does not grant me permission to wield your Dhanush, you and I are the same. There is no difference between you and I, and there is no difference between us and Govind." He smiles graciously and extends his weapon to her.

He steps back, watches as she commands his Dhanush and as it listens to its mistress his eyes radiate with pride for her.

She sends two arrows in opposing directions and as she passes his weapon back his eyes question her movement.

"The first was an alert to the palace. The general you saw earlier helped me design a communication means through arrows, he will raise the army in your stead."

"And the other?" He asks.

"Is for the Aindri Sena. They will be alerted of their need to head to the capital from the western border."

"And will they recognise my arrow?"

"Yes, because I knew your arrows, Aarya." His fingers graze her cheek then fondly. He takes her hand and helps her to mount his stead and as he comes up behind her he secures her into his chest. She relaxes into the embrace, and he takes off at a speed that causes her to yelp slightly. He chuckles gracefully and holds her securely to him.

"What role will the Aindri Sena play. We have enough men in the palace." She nods at his assertion.

"It will end the fight faster." She states her eyes meeting his in mischievousness that reminds him of his Madhav.

"They will be caught between two fronts, and it will be enough to ensure no future attack. We have destroyed the camp, halved their force through their journey through these forests. And whilst I do not have my archers stationed here to cement that completely, by the time they reach they will be in the ground once and for all."

"You're luring them to death." She nods at his assertion, and as they spot their kingdom growing against the horizon, he notes his second brother accompanied by his younger two dressed for war.

They join them and as she falls into his hands away from his horse, she passes a short nod to his brothers who do not reciprocate the gesture.

He grabs for her wrist. "I do not wish to keep you from the fight, nor will I, but I do want to say that I can fight for you." She smiles at him gently.

"Then whilst you fight for me, allow me to fight for you at your side." He does not hesitate when he nods his acceptance and as the Panchal general comes with her blade and bow, she arms herself as his servant coats him in armour.

He takes his Dhanush in hand and steps forth with her.

"Your orders Senapati?"

"Are the Queen's orders." He affirms.

"Today we take out a looming enemy, and today we shall emerge victorious. We will not allow any of our opponent's mercy, we must tighten our resources, display strength as a warning to them and to whoever else wishes to try what they attempt that we are not be trifled with. You may breathe one thing and one thing only: destruction."

He is greeted with chants and as he turns to his wife, she nods in acceptance of his words.

The enemy dances on the horizon and as they do, he gives his order to charge.

It is bloody battle; but with the aid of the western border forces, they emerge victorious.

His wife smiles at him when it is over despite her exhaustion and as they are carried away by duty and needs to stabilise the court and its surroundings there are moments of separation.

She tends to the wounded in wake of returning both her positions as minister and commander to the King. He backs her motion, makes his brothers see the light, the reasoning behind her actions, the reality they had long denied, and whilst his mother stutters concern of their unity, his reasonings prove to bridge them closer.

His mother is appeased, as are his brothers and as he looks for his wife in the heat of the descending evening he comes across her seated at her desk, tresses free and body free of ornaments. She looks divine dressed in red, her sindoor illuminated in her maang through aid of the moon's rays and as he stands captivated at his fire born, he sends a prayer of thanks to his father-in-law for crafting her with him in mind.

Her gaze rises, as if feeling his presence and as he steps forth with a smile, she greets him with her own. Her blue lotus fragrance fills his senses coupled with the garland of jasmine laying in her hair and the peace he gains at the simple scent is enough to last him a lifetime.

"Aarya." She calls softly, standing and walking around the desk. She comes to lean against it as he hands her a scroll.

Her eyes playfully meet his as she accepts it and as he watches her eyes widen at the contents, she sends him a look that makes his life worth living.

"This is the bill that was blocked." She states. "The bill to allow women into the army." She states in disbelief, and he steps closer to her.

"The first of many I can assure you. Bhrata Bheem and I are working on extending this into governmental positions and we would love to have you with us as we do." She nods, her hands shaking gently.

"But how?"

"It was easy to convince the court when I made them realise that it has been because of you and your tactics that the very foundation of this country still stands. You said you went into the viper's den as a repayment of loyalty, well this is repayment to you for your sacrifice and your loyalty to us. To our people."

She launches herself into his embrace then and as he holds her to him, her arms wrap against his neck, the two souls smiling in tandem.

Author's note: It has been a long time since I have updated this side of my work. But I always come back to these two. This is a part two to THE BATTLE LINE and I do hope you enjoyed this. I look forward to reading your thoughts in the comment section below.