**Content warning: feel free to skip the last part if you do not like to read scenes of intimate nature.**

Shield

Summary: "Kabhi haar kar Dekhiye - iss khel mein haarne ka maza hi kuch aur hai...."

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The king's rooms consist an entire wing of daulatabadh palace. An entire wing they had never stepped into. Knowing how certain things associated with his father made Veer react rather strongly Amrit is certain that these accommodations are meant to have a corrosive effect on her husband's mind.

Her temper simmers at the thought, her ears ring with pounding of her blood and with the speed that she strides down the hallway Menka has to run after her.

"Kuwar rani - kuwar rani - kuwar Rani sahab!" The old woman manages to grab hold of her elbow as they come to the end of the hallway. One of the other maids who were instructed to follow pushes open the double doors.

It is Menka's hushed inhale that makes Amrit pause. The splendor of those chambers are not lost on her.

"It feels like he would walk in any moment," Menka explains in an awestruck tone. "Kuch bhi nahi badla."

The walls are part dark stone and part the deepest shades of green. The draperies were velvet of emerald and each furniture well polished ebony.

The combination of colours while being grand and sleek cast the room into a pleasant semi darkness of the kind that brought rest to your eyes and eased weight from your shoulders.

"This is where he passed away," the words slip from her mouth before she has completed the thought.

Amrit feels how cold her fingertips have turned as she clasps them together. Menka stands at her shoulder and her exhale is heavy.

"Daulatabadh aane ke liye koi Veer baba ko nahi mana paye. Phir Chauhan sahab ne zabardasti unhe yaha laaya. I still remember how he screamed and thrashed and struggled all the way from Shrigar. Saying baba sahab ke paas rehena hai. Baba sahab ke paas le chalo.

"Then he fell ill. His condition was so bad that women of the palace had started fasts asking lord to save at least one of Shrighar's hopes. His condition didn't change until Rana sahab himself somehow managed to come to daulatabadh. Woh aaye, apne haat rakdhiye kuwar sahab ke sar par, thab jaake unmein todi jaan aayi. His fever went down."

"Rana sahab kudh beemaar the. So he had the prince brought over to his room. I still remember how they would cuddle against each other and sleep here -"

Amrit smoothes a hand over the dark green silk, a tear drips on it and stains it darker. She wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand, blinking back more tears that threatened to fall.

"Kuwar sahab had kept himself shut in this room for a long time after Rana sahab passed away. Kuwar Rani- yeh unka apna narak hai."

"Nahi," Amrit cuts her off, her hand fisting. "If he has bad memories here we can replace them with good ones. Jannat ho ya jahannum baat jaga ke nahi logo ke hote hai."

"Jahaan rishtein apne mann ke na ho toh jannat jahannum banne mein dherr nahi lagti kuwar Rani sahab."

That grants her a curious look from Amrit, who fully turns to Menka now, her hands folded.

Menka fidgets under that gaze, suddenly reminded that the new princess was in fact a journalist, who might have her ways of getting to the crux of stories following trails of crumbs. But the question she asks instead is an unexpected one.

"Do they get you to sign a non disclosure?"

Menka blinks at her.

"Nahi," Amrit waves a hand.

"Nobody in this staff is ready to tell me what was wrong in Rana sahab and Rani Sahiba's rishta.

"I'm sure it is something of grave importance to you Menka ma, but honestly, here now, whatever promises you've made or orders you've received are they more important than the son you've raised? Bahaar unke apne ma unke dushman bani hui hai, aur yahaan aap mein se koi kuch bata nahi rahe!"

"Yahaan pe kissi ko bhi Poori kahaani nahi patha Kuwar Rani sahiba. They were never happy that much anyone can vouch. Why and how only they know. It is a protocol that you never ask the king what troubles him."

"Well you should -" Amrit stands up and paces the length of the room. Then the thought occurs to her.

"But, often people who has no other outlet for their emotions creates one for themselves. A confidante - a personal record -"

"Chauhan sahab is the closest confidante of Rana Sahab. He was the one who drew up their marriage contract."

"Marriage contract?" Suddenly a rather striking memory takes hold of her. Oh, that document - that vile - vile document which was no less than an enslavement bond.

Amrit remembers how Nalini Devi had fetched it from one of her cabinets and slammed it upon her hands - saying something like, learn what you've put yourself into! This is what it means to be Veer's wife - you are nothing but his property!

Amrit swallows forcefully.

Somebody had actually made somebody else sign that?

She feels a cool finger of doubt clawing clammily along her spine.

What kind of a man was this Rana sahab? It reminds her of Veer voicing his fears - what will I do if in the end it turns out that he deserved her hatred? Amrit gives her head a forceful shake. No, even if the king was most horrid of men - even then - Veer did not deserve the treatment he was mated out at the hands of his own mother.

A couple of maids enter, Katham Singh strolling in after them, all carrying luggage unloaded from their vehicles.

"Aadesh dijiye Kuwar Rani," says the juvenile man with a joyous bow in her direction. "What do you want done with these chambers? Aap jaisi chahti hai waisi hongi - bass hukum de dijiye."

That reminds Amrit that she was supposed to greet the staff - however many people that included - in an hour, thanks to Veer. And afterwards, she will have to handle this issue of Rani Ma's not so subtle plotting. She expels a breath.

"Yes, I do believe we need to do something about this place," she says slowly.

And then, as if a wicked streak of her husband's had rubbed into her own character she smirks a little.

"And somebody go and tell Dai ma, I will meet her staff after dinner. First both of us should rest a little after our journey."

*

Rukzaar watches as Veer brushes Shaan rather diligently. The usually short tempered stallion stays unmoving, lulled into a calm by its master's touch.

"Tu kiss se bhaag rahi hai?" He asks suddenly making her jump. Rukzaar bites her lip, looking away for a moment.

"Hum? Nahi toh!"

Veer pauses to turn to her, lips pressed into a line. He says nothing, but his eyes sees too much. Annoyed that his attention was no longer with him, Shaan nudges Veer gently on the ear.

"Rukzaar," Veer sighs in the end. "You should know better than to think I will choose Anwar over you."

Her lip trembles and she bites on it. Veer's eyes narrow imperceptibly.

"What has he done?"

"Bhaijaan, please - poochiye matt. Humein kauf hai - agar aap poochein toh hum chupa nahi paayenge, aur agar aap ko bata dein toh shayad iss baar, iss baar aap ko bhi hum hi galat lage. Matt poochiye."

"Ruk -" Veer begins and stops abruptly, the brush he had worn on his hand slips and falls.

Rukzaar turns in alarm as he rushes past her towards the barn door. She follows trying to peer over his shoulder or under his arm.

"What is it?" She asks impatiently.

"I thought -" Veer sounds as if he had seen a ghost. "Wait here - Ratan Singh! Mohan Das! Chetan Ram! Kahaan margaye sab?"

The men come running, properly chastened to have been caught unaware of what had bothered their kuwar.

"Who else works here?" Veer asks them.

The men exchange a look of genuine puzzlement.

"Nobody else Hukum,"  Chetan Ram replies, barely rising his head.

"There are others who come with horses nowadays, as horses for the race arrives."

"And they are allowed in here? In the shahi stables?" Veer demands pointedly.

"No of cause not, Hukum -" Ratan Singh is only too eager to explain. "Nobody but the three of us and your groom from Shrigar Shaam Das is allowed here. But all those people are new - maybe one of them had lost their way."

"Haan yahaan chakravyh bana hua hai na," Veer says sarcastically. "I'm asking about a man in his - say - sixties, gray hair, tall brawny physique - slightly limping ?"

Three men shake their heads simultaneously. Rukzaar clears her throat.

"Bhaijaan why are you so concerned with -"

Veer ignores her.

"I want no strangers anywhere near Shaan. Or this place. If I find anymore lost souls wondering where they should not and my own men missing doing God knows what - things will turn very nasty for the three of you. Understood?"

No one replies.

"Humein baat dohorane ke aadat nahi hai," Veer says menacingly. "Ab kya humein woh aadat badalne padenge- ya phir..."

"Ji nahi hukum, this won't ever be repeated hukum. Kshama kijiye kuwar sahab."

The three chorus with such gusto that Rukzaar feels like smiling, she turns away to hide her face as Veer nods with superiority.

But his eyes remain worried. His face remains pale. To rattle him so a mere sight of some intruder isn't enough.

"Baat kya hai Bhaijaan? Kaun the woh aadmi?"

She asks as they walk back to the main residence much later, both smelling like horses and herbal oil and baked in the afternoon sun. The breeze is cooler now, as the evening fell. Fingers of blue dusk stain everywhere it touch the sunset spreading eastwards.
Veer takes a moment.

"A man that doesn't exist," he says. "A man who shouldn't exist. I've spent two decades trying to convince myself that he did not exist."

He turns to Rukzaar with a doubt lingering in his gaze.

"Why would I start seeing him again Rukie? Why now of all times?"

"Maybe you didn't imagine him," Rukzaar says soothingly. "Maybe he was there. You saw for yourself Bhai - there is a crowd here. A lot of people. Let's think he was one of them, there is a fair chance the three you asked did not see him not because he isn't there but because a lot of people are here."

"You think so?"

"Please Bhai, why are you do worried? Chalo manthe hai aap ne uss insaan ko dekha. What does it mean?"

"Nothing good," Veer says with a shudder. "When I see him, nothing good happens -"

*

Groan Veer bites back as he enters the chambers has little to do with the prolonged headache he left the stables with.

The sitting room is dark leaving few lone candles artlessly burning. Resemblance that he dares to find is shrouded in darkness. In contrast glimpsing through the door left half ajar, the bedchamber is flooded with golden light.

The air hang thick with fragrance of Jasmine, heady with undertones of camphor burning. Even though it was yet twilight the room holds a pleasant promise of night.

Veer pushes the door open all the way gently, and bit back that groan.

Amrit stands on a little plush stool kept to sit in front of the dressing table, with a candle in her hand that she was using to better illuminate whatever that she did with the curtains.

She was wearing one of his shirts for whatever exotic reason. Lit by the candle that she held close Veer could see the alluring lines of her figure shadowed against the starched fabric.

It came somewhere just below her knees leaving the rest of her legs down to her slipper less toes blissfully bare.

Amrit tugs at the curtain code, waving the flame rather close to those velvet draperies that Veer rushed to her and in the process lifted her arms in a way that raises the hem of that shirt in a tantalising glide towards her mid thighs.

"Aag lagani hai?" Veer asks abruptly, making her jerk in reply, toppling herself off that tiny stool and into his waiting arms.

The candle that she drops goes out, and the curtain code that she has tried to hold into, in an vain attempt to stop her fall, is tugged and petals of indeterminate colour rain upon them, like out of weather snow - lazy and heavy.

"Ou!" Says Amrit, watching in exasperation as their afternoon's efforts come down in an artless rain.

Meanwhile Veer could barely hold to his senses. His arms tighten around her unconsciously. She is soft and all feminine charm, her hair recently washed and smoked in sandalwood like she had confided in him a long ago, falls over her shoulders in a dark, exotic waterfall. His shirt hangs loose on her shoulders, the button at the collar that she had left undone hinting at glimpses of dark henna designs on her cleavage.

Leisurely, he drags his eyes along her throat, tracing the line of her throbbing pulse - along her jaw - across her parted, inviting mouth and returns to her eyes.

He arches a brow.

"Who are you and what have you done with my sweet - innocent wife?"

The way he mutters the words, along her temples as his mouth brushes a line there and the way his eyes darkens leaves Amrit slightly flustered.

But, her hand tightens on his collar and her mouth tugs in a smile as she draws closer to his ear to murmur.

"Why don't you find out for yourself?"

She nips at his ear rather playfully, while her hands smooth along his shoulders.

"For all you know she might be hidden here somewhere..."

He presses a groan against her throat.

"Is that so?"

"Umm hmm," Amrit hums. "If you are a very good boy she might take pity on you ...and return... now put me down!"

He does allow her to slip through his arms and she stands on his feet, pressing herself against him - her softness molding into his hard planes with ages of familiarity.

"Pity?" Veer cocks an eyebrow.

Amrit entwines an arm around his neck and draws the other hand along his jaw.

"Pity," she repeats. "Mercy, favor - call it what you will. I promise it tastes all the same. Kabhi haar kar Dekhiye kuwar sahab - iss khel mein haarne ka maza hi kuch aur hai...."

"Hum kabhi haar the nahi hai."

"Shh," she presses a finger to his lips, traces it along his mouth rather decadently and places her other hand over his eyes. "You will if you play by my rules.

"Let's hear them." His hands take hold of her waist, his eyes of her gaze and Veer plays along with a deliberate slow smile.

Amrit offers him a sugary grin of victory.

"Pehela niyam - meri alawa kuch bhi sochna, dekhna, mehsoos karna - mana hai. Hmm? Sirf main - aur kuch nahi - boliye, mansoor hai?"

Veer allows his hand to wander along her spine, in a tantalisingly slow downward trail.

"Have I ever -" he begins reaching to nuzzle her.

"Thought - seen or felt anything other than you?"

This Amrit, the one that returns teasing with teasing - the one who is bold enough to step back from his kisses and instead ran an appreciating finger along his jaw, sets him on fire.

"Have you - indeed?" She purrs, before drawing closer again. "In which case, agar main saboot mangoon toh denge?"

He kisses her wrists, where they lay closer to his mouth on either side with her fingers interlocked at his nape.

"Maang lo, jaan bhi de denge."

"Will you let me blindfold you?"

Veer groans against her supple flesh and Amrit chuckles decadently in his ear. He hadn't realized she could make such sounds, ones that send his blood pounding in his ears.

"Is that a yes?"

"Will you take it off when I ask you to?"

That has her grining, rather wickedly, mischief dances in her candlelit eyes.

"Only if you ask nicely - and if you admit your defeat."

"Ah," he says, stepping back, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender that has her rather content. "I get it now. This is your revenge for earlier this afternoon."

The silk she produces out of nowhere falls around his eyes and the world melts away. Amrit's fingertips wander along the rim of the blindfold, brushing against his cheeks, checking if he could see.

"It isn't," she tells him. "Oh maybe it is." She laughs.

"I just need to be the only thing that occupies your mind. Love you properly, the way you deserve. The way you love me."

He knows her mouth is closer to his ear as he feels the sweet heat of her exhale.

"And of cause I haven't forgotten how you take pleasure in tormenting me. Let's just assume the tables have turned tonight - kuwar sahab."

Decadently, her mouth closes around his ear, making him hiss in surprise at the graze of her teeth.

Her chuckle curls into his ear, as her tongue swipes at its shell, soothing - stirring. His seeking hand gets hold of her heady smelling hair and he drags that mouth to his, with a groan.

"Good God...!"

She presses a smile into his lips.

"For a man who takes such pleasure in teaching anticipation, you are awfully impatient."

She draws back, easing his hold on her hair with her hand running along his arm. Instead of hos seeking lips she trails her mouth along his jaw and over his bobbing throat.

"All in good time - darling," she murmurs.

"Amrit..." his grip on her faulters at a particular heated kiss pressed against the base of his throat and she hums contentedly, deft hands popping buttons of his shirt undone.

"To be honest," she tells him. "I had no idea what to do, but then I realized I don't have to - I just have to start somewhere and things will fall into place as they always do."

Each inch of skin that she revealed, her mouth relishes upon it - as if feeding a fire bit by bit, those fingers and lips dance upon his skin, with an occassional twirl of her tongue, a rare nip of her teeth.

She touches him with the surety of an age old lover, knowing where to ghost, where to press and where to linger her hands.

Yet she kisses him with the fervour of new discoveries. They tumble into the silks of their bed, all that heady scent of crushed jasmin driving him mad.

"Tell me I can touch you in return," his voice is thick with undiluted want.

Amrit giggles in thick and sugary notes, drunk on that very effect she has on him. Her hands press against his chest, her mouth suckles into his shoulder as she replies.

"When did I say no?"

His hands reaches for her blindly and a groan leaves his lips when they meet skin. She might have taken off that shirt at some point, unknown to him.

"Goodness," he mutters fervently, running his hands along the soft expense of heated skin.

Her appreciative voice sings in his ear, before her hands take hold of his. Her weight settles upon him and she leads his hands to press against her softest curves.

"Feel me," she mutters, a whisper of an invitation before her hands return to their pursuit along his frame. His fingers sink appreciatively into her flesh as hers stroke and strain.

"Closer," Veer demands and she presses into him, slithering along his frame in the most exotic of ways. Her mouth saunters over his, before her teeth sink into his lower lip and sucks at it gently, his arms wrap her to him, hands wandering in search for more.

Amrit moans contentedly fitting against him, holding him captive to her power and a pleasure that only she could evoke within him.

"Jaan..." his voice breaks.

She strokes him rather knowingly, taking as much pleasure as she gives. Her lips mutter against his.

"Kiss me - properly."

The kiss deepens, taking with it the last of his senses. All he could feel, taste and breathe is her.

Her tongue soft and heavy, caressed his in the most pleasurable of ways all the while her hands feed the fire and build it at the same time.

Her thighs pressed against him as she drew closer, not yet where he needed her. Her mouth wandered off, along his jaw - over to his ear as she moved her hips in the most maddeningly slow rhythm.

"Am I winning yet?" Her voice is breathy, spent yet victorious.

Her skin as sweaty as his glides against him in silky movements.

"Am I?"

"Yes," his breath shuddered and broke. "Goddamnit, yes!"

She sighs in his ear, kisses his jaw and sinks against him. Veer feels the heat of her sheathing him and his breath scatters into a halt.

She kisses him with prolonged sweetness and her deft fingers undo the blindfold. The light floods into his vision at the same time as pleasure, white and gold, the fire of stars.

Veer gives into its heedless call at the same time he sinks into its mindless pleasure - into the world that consists only of Amrit, her heat, her scent and her breath singing against him. Then everything explodes into white hot flames.

He had never lost control so gloriously ever in his life. The pleasure takes and drowns him, takes his very breath and leaves his lungs burning, his eyes stinging and his mouth thirsty for more.

She kisses him knowingly, lazily as the strength drains from her, her hands trace and cradle his face ardently.

"I love you - you know," her tone is matter of fact. Her declaration softened by the tears in her eyes. "Always will."

The realization of why she had done what she had done, artfully, playfully orchestrated though it is - occurs to him belatedly.

Amrit cuddles against him victorious in more than one way as he kisses the top of her head. In the room swimming with soft candlelight none of the ghosts that he dares linger. Instead the shadows are softened into pools of dim light, the air sweetened with scent of jasmin and sandalwood.

"Be here - now - with me," she mutters against his skin, a soft loving reminder. "I love you."

"I will," he promises. "I will."

* *
Almost 1.5 K longer than usual because I'm not 100% certain about Friday's installment with my last paper landing gloriously close - by with only one day left to revise.
Well, let's cross that bridge when Friday comes. Be prepared for a long and exciting second installment for Kaanch Si Mohabbat  this Wednesday (15th). Don't forget to check it out!
Thanks for reading, please vote and comment and keep the exam battered poor writer going.