Strike

Summary: Remember your place and hers.

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He wakes up to the sound of tinkling bangles. The hand that brushes along his eyes is cold from a fresh shower and fused with the scent of incense smoke.

"Utthjaiye Chanda," Amrit's voice is tinted with chuckles. Veer catches hold of her wrist without opening his eyes.

Her laughter grows as she leans against his chest - her partially wet hair brushes along his face and throat, bringing with them the tantalising fragrance of jasmin and sandalwood.

Veer breathes her in, his arms involuntarily tightening around her.

"Why are you up so early?" He mumbles into her shoulder grumpily. "Come back to bed Jaan..."

"Nahi," Amrit playfully nibbled at his nose before laughing. "I'm supposed to be downstairs, doing some kind of a puja. They are going to weigh me in gold."

That finally gets Veer to open his eyes. Amrit leans in to brush her lips against his.

"Aap aayenge na?" Her voice is hopeful. "Mujhe anjaan logo ke beech achchi nahi lagthi. And they have started lavishing such attention that -" she swallows a shudder. "It's overwhelming."

Veer sits up, taking her along as he rises and folding her into his arms. His mouth preases against her temple.

"Nothing you don't deserve," he murmurs. "Humari Rani."

"Veer..." she let's her voice trail off, playing with his fingers. Taking off his rings and putting them back. The cold glide of metal with occasional brush of her fingertips stirs something inside him, Veer clasps his fingers around hers - halting her.

"Kya?"

"Should I ask Menka ma to teach me etiquette? Agar mujhse koi galti hogayi toh achchi nahi lagengi na?"

Veer watches her for a moment, seeing the apprehension in her wine rimmed eyes he brings their clasped hands to his mouth and kisses her knuckles carefully.

"You know that I love you right?" He asks her, "humein sirf tum se mathlab hai. Tum jo karongi jaisa karongi humare liye wohi sahi honga."

He pulls back and looks at her, appreciating the way sunlight warms her hair into rich honey tones and the lemon yellow of her Sari makes her skin look buttery.

"You should go shopping with Rukzaar more often," he declares abruptly. "She has chosen well."
Amrit's eyes widens a little.

"Aap ko kaise -"

"Biwi sahab," he runs lazy fingers along her  cheek. "I chose every single sari in your initial wardrobe. I know which ones are new. And that mint green one had Rukzaar's wickedness all over it."

Amrit laughs.

"Yes, she said you would be rightfully tortured by that one. You were - weren't you? That reminded me how you said you hate green. Are you bothered by this room now?"

Veer takes a moment to appreciate those cool green walls. There were memories tightening in his throat but they did not suffocate him as they usually did.

Instead he is pleasantly aware of Amrit, the heat of her exhale tingling at his throat- the sweet scent of her hair and the comforting promise of her presence.

He shakes his head.
"It doesn't anymore," he admits.

"And that green suits you - it makes you look like the most tempting thing in the world."

Amrit's face colours rather endearingly and she hides that blush against him. Veer chuckles.

"I almost killed Yogi that day," he confesses, stroking her heated cheek with a thumb. "Pity I had to go and save him from Rajghar goons next."

Amrit joins in that chuckle, drawing lazy circles against his chest. Veer holds her wandering hand for both their sakes and looks down at her.

"Better now? Not so nervous?"

She smiles.

"Aap aayenge toh sab teek honga," she says then. "They don't like me Veer. Unko lagthe hai ke main aapke liye sahi nahi hoon, waisi nahi hoon jaise woh chahte the. Aap ke katir meri kadar karte hai woh."

"Tum se shadi bhi toh humne ki hai, Shrigar ne nahi," Veer says finitely. "Aur humare liye tum se sahi koi hai nahi. Na kabhi hongi. Seriously, Biwi Sahab - Itni Kiyun dar thi ho -"

"Yeh dar nahi hai," her voice is soft, her embrace softer. "This is greed perhaps. Aap ko khona nahi chahti main. But as you keep saying - I'm not made for this world of yours. Yahaan jee ghabrane lagthi hai."

"Kiyun?" This time Veer asks her insistently, his eyes searching. Amrit tears her gaze and looks away.

"Your parents had a marriage contract - I know, you said you would never make me sign one - I know - but when I asked why they needed such a vile document you know what Menka ma said? She said it is because Rani Ma was not from another royal family. Not a princess by birth. She said it is custom of royal families to restrain the power bestowed upon non - royal family members because one might never know what they would do with the new found authority."

"What rubbish -" Veer begins.

"It isn't though," Amrit says understandingly. "Look what the power of royal seal has done to your mother. Maybe ... I fear to think -" her palm against his heart presses insistently. "You are trusting me too much."

"Aur tum Ma Sahab nahi ho," Veer cuts her off. "I will never claim to be a saint Biwi Sahab, I'm not even a good man and I know that. Par tum - tum kabhi buri ho - galat ho - yeh hum maan hi nahi sakte. However much power I am trusted with I want you to have an equal share of it." He takes her hand and kisses her knuckles with determination, before drawing away to rise and withdraw.

"Remember," he says, her hands drawn to his mouth, his eyes meeting hers as he bowed over her knuckles. "Our promise is to be equals - nothing and no one will change that."

*

Randheer finds himself back in a set of cursed rooms. Maybe he has found a taste for misery he thinks as he watches the covered paintings of Amrit that adorn the room.

The queen's quarters is arranged with her things - but is unoccupied and cold apart from those twisted versions of her in silk wrapped paintings watching him with the cold eyes that resemble her haughty husband's. There is judgement in those eyes, judgement and accusation - as if they look upon him like a trespasser.

He is a trespasser, he admits that now. Everything, including his own conscience has gone wrong somewhere.

Pressing his hands against his head Randheer relives the memories of the morning. Of his mother's anger at the documents she was reading.

"Veer has gone crazy," she announces in general. "This is blunt disregard of family traditions. Rani can't take part in running of the estate as long as Raja is there. There is no need to. What is this dividing functions - huh - he just wants to lay back and enjoy the luxuries while someone else works for him or what! And that girl will handle it? That girl will handle our estate affairs? My estate affairs? This is intolerable!"

The hypocrisy of her words is not lost on him. Randheer does not point out that Rani Ma had been doing well for an outsider burdened with family responsibilities for so long.

For some reason Chacha sahab who had his feathers ruffled due to the recent refugee scandal articles of Veer and Ranjhan's jumped into agreement.

Sure enough, they didn't want another Rani to make them dance, he says.

But it is Chandra Singh Rathod the uncle who always made Randheer's flesh crawl that made him finally leave that room.

He was a trusted adviser to Rani Ma, and she assured him he had the best of their interests at heart. Moreover, he was the one who had finally found him his adoptive father. Still the man had a dark heart, a greedy soul that his composed nature barely concealed.

"If a queen on the board begins to bother you," he had said. "There is only one thing to be done about it. Take her out."

He had smiled at the general silence and gestured with his hands as if to say it was all pretty simple.

"What? You want it - I want it. Even that damned fool Narendra Sha wants it. Iss Amrit Sahani ko Veer ke Zindagi se nikalne mein hum sab ke bhalai hai."

"What are you doing here?" There is nothing friendly in the tone that greets him.

Turning Randheer finds Veer standing at the threshold, arms folded against his chest. At his shoulder four other servants including Katham Singh are watching. He turns to them nonchalantly and orders.

"Take the paintings back to the king's chambers, leave other things. Kuwar Rani will have her maids bringing in her things that were mistakenly sent to the queen's quarters. Agle baar yaad rahein - she and I do not maintain separate chambers, no need to make such arrangements for us."

Once the men had dispersed, carrying carefully the silk wrapped paintings, Veer approaches his brother.

"Humne ek sawaal poocha Prem," his voice remains tight. "Tum apne Babhi ke kamre mein kya kar rahe ho?"

He phrases it with such nonchalance that Randheer has to swallow back the bitterness.

"I need to see her -"

"You know she is not here," Veer shrugs, dismissively picking through Amrit's bangles on the dressing table.

"It was a nice try - to put her in this set of rooms all the way away from me. Only, I don't think she even stepped in here. Badi ziddi hai woh, apni mann ki karthi hai. You people put away her things here - she simply wore my clothes instead..."

"I'm not interested," Randheer snaps through gritted teeth.

Veer turns to him, an eyebrow cocked.

"I think you are," he says wickedly. "Otherwise you wouldn't be invading our privacy so. I have tolerated and overlooked a lot Prem - par yeh baat achche se samajh lijiye, humare duniya mein - hum dono ke beech tumhare liye koi jaga nahi hai."

He turns away at that, ready to leave.

"You can see her at the same time the staff will. Remember your place and hers."

"She's in danger," Randheer says quickly, causing Veer to pause at the doorway and turn.

His eyes have gone colder than any other time. Something about him makes Randheer swallow he continues nevertheless.

"Your recklessness is putting her in danger. Kiyun logo ko Amrit ki Dushman bana rahein ho? Kiyun usse-"

"Apne Rani bana raha hoon?" Veer supplies. For a moment he looks appalled at Randheer's lack of understanding, or simply the fact that he seemed to shift the blame rather stupidly.

"Hum bhi kiss se baat kar rahe hain," he mutters to himself and dismisses Randheer with a hand gesture.

"Agar Amrit ko kuch hua toh -" Randheer begins.

"Amrit Babhi Sahab," Veer's voice rises threateningly. "As I said, remember - your - goddamn - place."

He takes a step closer, pins Randheer with that frosty glare.

"Aur haan - agar humare patni ko kuch hua toh iss Ghar mein aise toofaan aayenga - all of your faction will be uprooted. Whoever had this brilliant idea you may go and tell them, I'm not a man to be messed with. You know that don't you - Prem?"

"Yahaan kya ho raha hai?" Rani Sahiba walks in, scrunching her nose at Veer, turning anxious eyes on Randheer. Veer shrugs off her disapproval with a wipe of his hands.

"Aap ki jo niyam hai ma sahab, unka yaad dila rahein the hum," he tells coldly. "It seems to me that my brother is in need of disciplining."

He tilts the last  word in a way that places it with a threat of sorts and claps Randheer on the shoulder.

"Don't touch him!" Rani sahiba shudders at the sight. Veer takes his hand off, but lets it hover  above Randheer's shoulder as he twirls his fingers.

"I won't," he says briskly. "If the same curtsey is extended to me and mine, nahi toh humare haat bohut lambhe hai  - ma sahab."

*

Amrit has started to feel truly like a queen on the board, a piece to be moved - with no more power than to stand on an assigned square and watch as the world crumble around her.

It is a repeat of Shrighar people turning up to see their Dulhan Rani. Only, the people and perhaps their intentions have turned sinister.

She is already sitting on her side of the huge scales by the time Veer arrives. His eyes sweep over her rather appreciatively before he steps up to place the first coin of gold that would start the weighing.

Their gazes meet and hold and he smiles at her reassuringly, unconcealed pride in his eyes making her throat tighten.

And as if to cast an eye on that moment, a stain on its perfect fabric - drums start to beat.

A muscle in Veer's jaw twitches and Amrit makes a movement to rushto his side. Someone holds her gently by the arm.

"You can't move until the weighing is finished Kuwar Rani," someone informs.

The beats rise, drowning everything else and Amrit has eyes only for her husband. Veer looks pale. He clasps his hands together to stop their tremor. Look at me she thinks, watching him in aghast. Look at me!

He does, and the surrounding melts away in the intense need in his eyes. Amrit shakes her head gently, imploringly, willing him to hold a moment longer. He gives her a shaky nod, yet she could see how nails of his fisted hands sink into his flesh, how his knuckles whitens.

"Stop the drums!" Amrit says abruptly. "I said - bandh karo!"

As her voice rises the beats die away, there are many faces turned to her - watching her with varying degrees of anticipation. She doesn't move, she has no need to rise to her full height to unleash the full extent of her will.

"Humein inke aawaz pasand nahi hai," she continues calmly. "I request earnestly, isse hukum matt samjhiyenga - let us not have drums beating for a while."

The Panchayat exchange a look and so does the servants who are aware of the reason their new mistress wants to do away with drumming.

There is tenderness in their eyes, understanding and faint admiration. With that one decisive sentence spoken in the heat of fear and a rush of protectiveness Amrit Veer Pratap Singh secures herself the loyalty and admiration of an entire estate.

With one final tinkle of a coin falling to the heap of golden glimmer the scales tip and she is raised above the ground. That is all the time Amrit allows herself to be kept there.

Almost immediately, disregarding the flowers they scattered upon her Amrit rushes to Veer's side and takes his hands in hers.

They are cold, his palms are marked with his nails and his eyes are bloodshot. She doesn't have words to offer, instead it is Veer who brushes a thumb beneath her eye.

"It's over," he tells her. "Rani Sa."

She chuckles tearfully, well aware that they were the centre to many eyes - but uncaring of the weight of those gazes. Let them see, she thinks rather protectively, let them see and let them know, nothing could ever hurt us again.

Veer wraps an arm around her and mutters something about the assembly not needing them anymore, pointedly leading her away as Amrit's cheeks heat up.

The crowd allow them to pass, parting without a word of protest.
"You have flowers in your hair," his voice is warm in her ear.

Amrit raises an uncertain hand to shake through her hair which he holds off.

"Na - na - yeh hum karenge, fursatse."

Laughing at her endearingly deepening colour he turns and freezes, his arm around her tightening imperceptibly.

"Veer!" Amrit follows his gaze in surprise and realizes upon whom he was gazing, her own eyes widens.

"Aap?"

**
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