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Summary: Nothing could take her. Not his demons nor hers.

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Elsewhere, Amrit cannot breath.

The shadows press upon her and threatens to engulf her. Belatedly, she begins to make sense of what Narad Sha had meant in the morning.

As she rushes through the crowd her eyes fall upon Randheer.

He pauses in his conversation with Chandra Singh Rathod to look at her. The agony in her eyes makes him pause and think back to a conversation he took part in a while before Amrit had returned with her husband. His fingers clench into a fist.

"They met the solicitor," Randheer tells the others.

Chandra crumples a paper in his hands and Nalini looks out of the window.

"Obviously they are in possession of the will now." Unnecessarily, Randheer informs them further.

Neither of the elders reply. "What shall we do?"

"They haven't returned," Nalini says after a moment. "It must be the weather, this sudden blizzard keeping them out."

Dai ma who was preparing tea in the corner gives her a placating smile.

"Bhagvaan aap ke saat hai Rani Sahiba," she says offering her a cup of tea.

Nalini pushes it away. The cup clutters against the saucer and hot liquid spils from its rims.

"God and I have always been opponents Manorama," Nalini rejects her claim. "Humein bhagvaan se koi umeed nahi."

"They shouldn't return," Chandra says next. "Even if they do, they must not be allowed to take that will to decisive people of the riyasat. We have done too much to lose to a piece of paper."

"But," Nalini hesitates. "Things have not fallen into place. Abhi Agar kuch Hua toh..."

"Nalini," Chandra shakes his head as he gets to his feet heavily. "After the way things were managed at the preliminaries we can no longer shift the blame to Huzenabadh. Aur woh naachnewali bhi kuch kam shatir nahi hai. If we try to get her son involved any further she might work things out. No, we have to think from another angle."

There is a pause and somewhere in distance a clock strikes the eighth hour.

"I heard Veer is being offered a chance to contest the elections," it is Randheer's voice that bleeds into the silence. "After that entire Akif  stunt, there are people who think he is a vigilante. Not only Narad Sha is after him. Apparently Farida Begham's people wants to involve him as well."

"And what does the dancer think about that?" Chandra sounds intrigued.

"I think she advocates for it," Randheer informs. "Since her own sons are less than interested in carrying her mantel and her husband decidedly distant from the political scene she surely sees him as a potential second."

"Hmm," is all Chandra says. He presses a fist to his forehead, hunched over an idea.

"We might have to use my way then." He says in the end. "After all I am in possession of an ammunition that could possibly end this game for well. It doesn't have to be politics.

"It doesn't have to be Huzenabadh or Rajghar. Kuwar sahab kudh apne liye katra doondh ke jo laaye hai."

"What are you going to do?"

"Matt poochiye," Chandra smiles grimly at Randheer. "I'd rather you don't worry over this. But you will if you are to know and I cannot not answer if you ask me."

"Are you sure we will not be implicated?" Is all Nalini asks.

"Of cause not. In fact we will deny any and all knowledge. Plus this could remove a certain taint from Randheer's record as well. Sab kushal mangal hi honga."

The boom of his laughter sounds like the plunge of a cannon ball. Nalini meets Randheer's eye, her smile wavers. Randheer dares the thought that suddenly occurs to him. He rises abruptly.

"Does this have anything to do with Amrit?"

It did apparently. The way Amrit looked at him now, trying to catch her breath as all colour fled her face, spoke all about it. She hadn't looked so betrayed at the station that long gone day, no had she looked so afraid.

Almost involuntarily he moved towards her, shaken by her condition- but she was already in the arms of another.

*

Amrit is wordlessly glad. She doesn't question Veer how or why he had come, she doesn't wonder if her distress had drawn him from his own hell of suffering. She simply sinks into his arms and holds, shuddering minutely.

He presses a kiss into her hair, a sure hand rubbing her back as he extracts her from the crowd into a shadowed alcove. The music and voices dim away and Amrit leans against the cold wall for support, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.

Veer looms over her, solid as ever. Her hand bunches on his lapel, holding him to her. His hand brushes over her hair and comes to rest at her nape. She looks up at him beseeching and he looks down at her, contrite.

"Tum kyun chali gayi -" he begins at the same time she says,

"Aap ne Kiyun jaane diya?"

They breath each other in and simply stand there, eyes drinking their fill of the other. The war had barely begun and they had learnt the lesson of how without the other they would inadvertently bleed. Veer's hands cup her face and hers bunch tighter on his collar to pull him closer.

He strokes her face, takes in her fear. Her eyes brim over.

"They will use me against you," her voice is a whisper of agony. "I'm going to pull you down. Veer - woh wapas aagaya hai. All this while I thought he died. I thought he was gone." She raises a shaking hand towards the general direction of the gathering. "He is there. It is one thing to have a brand but - if he talks - if he is with Rathod - the Panchayat- I should go - I-"

"Kahi nahi jaa rahi ho tum," he pulls her back into his arms and holds, gleaning strength from her soft presence. "Matt jaao. Matt jaao."

Veer is made of contradictions; light and shadow, vulnerability and strength. He is made of his ability to switch between the two in blink of an eye. Amrit had seen him breaking into pieces over his fears and had held him through the thickest of storm. But now, as her own demons swarm her, he rises up to shield her as well.

The pain still pulses in him, but understanding etch in his eyes, strength that only his father's words could have brought has settled into his shoulders.

He has read the letters. Her heart heaves a sigh. Her frame weakly molds against him. At least, she was right to push him to that edge, to force him to make a choice for them - even if it had brought her to an edge of danger, even if in the ultimate end she would be torn from him.

Amrit did not doubt that she loved Veer, but that night in the deepest shadows of the man she has chosen as her other half, Amrit realized just how much she loved Veer. And just what love would entail.

It cast the feelings once she knew and thought as love into furnace to simmer, melt and harden - the weak crust crumbling to give way to a molten core.

It wasn't the flimsy, butterfly wing - like thing that she thought it was - this love she had for her husband - it was fierce, bitter and all consuming - as much as she would weather thousand storms with him, she'd not beat an eyelid while raising thousand storms for him either.
Such was her love for him, she learns.

Even if it meant a struggle, she realizes that she wouldn't back off without a fight, even if that fight was with the very devil of her nightmares.

Let him come. Let him lie. Let him try to disgrace her.

Her hand clutches at her hair on his nape, a greed flares through her for this beautifully broken man who had put off his own gaping wounds to come and stand by her side.

His larger hands cup and stroke her jaw, his eyes caressing her face with a fierce longing of his own. This woman had chosen to throw herself to the wolves that prowled waiting to tear her limb by limb just so he could get time to gather himself. Find truth amidst all the lies branded upon him, all the deceit- all the blame wrongfully placed - she had been there through it all.

She had made him see, when he would have preferred to die blind, choked by those he thought he owed so much. But they had only been taking, stealing, snatching things that meant so much to him, starting with his father.

And Amrit, nothing could take her. Not his demons nor hers.

"Jaana matt." He says.

"Chhodna matt," she mutters.

Then they were kissing, unaware who had moved first, or who had given in. It was almost thoughtless, automatic response to the need that flared up.

They had been cold, they had been adrift. Her lips are soft and compliant- while her fingers sinking into his flesh are insistent.

He kisses her with that same intent, unable to draw her as closer as he wished, he settles to brand her taste upon himself instead. Neither of them are certain whether the salt they taste are his tears or hers, but it is there.

Amrit pulls away with a sob and buries her head against his throat, allowing more sobs to rattle her.

"I shouldn't have left you like that, I shouldn't have. Maaf kardijiye, maaf kar dijiye."

"Shh," he coos, rocking her. "Bass. Bass. You were right. Sahi kiyi tum ne. I was being a fool. Shh. Shh."

They straighten up slightly as they hear the approaching footsteps.  Veer stiffens and then relaxes as he realizes it is Anwar and Rukzaar. He simply holds Amrit closer and looks at Anwar.

"Apparently a man who should be dead is back," he says without further ado. Anwar takes in Amrit's hunched frame and his jaw tightens.

"Then we must put it to right?"

Amrit jerks away and stares at them in horror.

"Nahi!" She says agitatedly, shaking her head. "No. No. None of you should -"

Veer pulls her closer, hushing her.

"Kuch nahi honga," he assures her. "Hum kuch hone nahi denge. But if they want to fight on this, we have no choice but to make our own preparations."

"Veer..."

He closes his eyes with a shuddered exhale.

"Anwar, I want you to bring me Nayantara jij. Let the ghost roam for a while more. We must begin with the man who resurrected him."

Anwar nods and Amrit shifts uncomfortably.

"He killed my father. And used my mother to do it. If nothing else Chandra Singh Rathod will pay for that."

The finality in his voice settles over her like a cold shroud. Veer would still think better of his mother, think of her as a pawn of some other villain and to his end Mahendra had believed the same.

Neither of these men were ready to believe that the woman they made the centre of their world had a heart of darkness and feet of clay.

Instead they gave her the benefit of doubt to the last of their breath, to the worst of their own end. In his last letters to his son, Mahendra had implored Veer not to, never to hate his mother for her choices. For her less than perfect life. Nothing Amrit could say would change it.

"We know three things for certain now," Amrit says slowly instead.

"Your uncle wants you dead. He wants to install Prem on your place. It is his way of circumventing the problem of having his throne passing out of the family. Kehene ko woh Pratap Singh honga par unke khoon Rathod hi rahenge. And he has some use of dragging my past into it all."

"And there is one more person who does not want Prem on the throne," Veer tells her. "We must start from there."

*

Amber lamps are lit to cast the room into light. Anwar is leaning against the wall, arms folded against his chest and slightly frowning. At the same time on a sofa at the centre of the room sits Nayantara Singhania nee Rathod .

It's been a while since Amrit had last seen her. In the golden light her face is set in taut lines. Her eyes softens a little when she turns to Veer.

"You want me to stand in ceremony?" She asks him miffed. "Last time I remember you pulling rank on me? What is this Veer? Aadi raat ko Huzenabadh ke log humare Ghar pe -"

"I have a preposition for you Jiji," Veer cuts her off. "One that I feel you might be inclined to hear. Yet your father might not."

Nayantara stiffens slightly. Her pose straightens an infinitesimal amount.

Veer walks forward and takes a seat opposite while Amrit joins Anwar to stand behind him. Anwar offers her a faint smile, united as they were in their goal to protect Veer.

"I'm listening." Nayantara inclines her head.

"I will lift the decree banning femals from taking the throne as soon as I take the throne. You will be eligible to take Rajghar then."

Nayantara chuckles, her eyes shifting to Amrit.

"Is she pregnant?" She asks speculatively. "I can see of no other reason for you to suddenly change your colours Veer."

"I'm willing to consider your position Jiji, for whatever reason," Veer tells her firmly. "If I was thinking about my own children I could have kept Rajghar for my own. Think of this when if ever such issue rises in my family. Humein aap ki adikaar ko aap se cheenne ka koi shauk nahi hai. Aap ko maan na hai toh maaniye, nahi toh nahi. Hum soch rahein hai, yeh mauka de rahein hai - but can you say the same thing about your father? Or my brother? If the power shifts tomorrow, if I am not the one to sit on your throne - can you expect that other person to step down in your favour?"

Nayantara stays silent on that. She fumbles with her hands, clearly thinking through her options.

"How can I believe you? What security do I have?" She asks in the end. "And in return what do you expect me to do?"

"You won't have to do anything. If it comes to that I simply want you not to support your father in his attempts to get Prem installed as the heir."

"Prem? That abruptly found -"

"He is Prem," Veer confirms. "There is no denying that. But his rightful place is on neither of our thrones. I hope you agree."

Nayantara blinks.

"Haan."

"Then, I need you to back Chauhaan sahab in pitching this to Panchayat and the estate agents."

He pushes a piece of paper towards Nayantara.

"This has to happen today, before the Daulatabadh race sees its end and Nalini Devi and Chandra Singh Rathod turns their attention back to the Panchayat. You are the only person they don't have eyes on. But you are also a princess of rank. The Panchayat will be inclined to hear you."

Nayantara's mouth twitches.

"You want me to make you a king..."

"I want you to secure yourself a throne," Veer corrects her. "We've known each other forever Jiji. If I am to trust someone in Rajghar I'd trust you. I hope somewhere in your heart you will find the same trust for me."

"It's easy to trust and love a brother Veer," Nayantara tells him softly. "The same cannot be said about a king. Ek raja kissi ka koi nahi hota. Woh bass raja hote hai aur bhaki sab unke praja. Hum uss raja par bhi yakeen nahi karthe jo humari baap hai - toh aap ka sawaal hi nahi utt tha."

Veer pinches the bridge of his nose, frustrated at her uncompromising attitude.

"Ghabraiye matt, I find this proposition agreeable. It's just that I want you to write that decree now. Here. In front of me. Keeping your queen as well as Nawabzade Anwar as your witness. Let me have that decree now. Let it be your first decree Rana Veer Pratap Singh.

*
First decree is written, all hail the future Rana Veer Pratap Singh!
On that note we part, see you again soon. Do vote and comment and let me know your thoughts.
I'm not doing well these days, hence the updates are slightly chaotic and without schedule. Sorry for that.
Thanks for reading!