The palace was cloaked in an atmosphere of palpable tension as I made my way to Rani Kanchana's chambers. The Trithiya ceremony was approaching, a day that bore the weight of our shared grief from losing our child to the poison Rudrajaala. It was a sorrow Anshuman, and I carried silently, our public duties serving as a veil over our private heartache.

I entered Kanchana's chambers unannounced. She looked up from her embroidery, her surprise evident as she saw me. Clearly, she hadn't anticipated my visit.

"Maharani," she greeted, rising and bowing slightly.

"Kanchana," I replied curtly, my mood far from cordial. "We need to talk."

"Of course, Maharani. What is it you wish to discuss?"

"The Trithiya ceremony," I said firmly. "I will not be overseeing the palace's activities on that day. I expect everything to proceed smoothly, and I do not want any disruptions."

Her curiosity flickered in her eyes. "I understand, Maharani. I will ensure everything is in order."

I moved closer, my gaze unyielding. "I do not want anything to go wrong. Also, do not approach me on that day."

She nodded, her head bowing slightly. "I will respect your wishes, Maharani."

Leaving her room, my heart felt heavy with the impending ceremony and the suspicion that Kanchana might not be as innocent as she appeared. Just then, I heard the sound of a carriage arriving at the palace gates. My breath caught as I saw the familiar crest-it was my mother's carriage. Her arrival was unexpected, but it seemed she meant what she wrote in her letter.

"Maa!" I called out, hurrying to greet her as she descended from the carriage.

"Nayantara," she said warmly, embracing me. "I decided to come and support you during this difficult time."

I blinked back tears. "You didn't tell me you were coming."

She smiled gently. "I know how hard this day is for you and Anshuman. Maharani Daksha knows what goes on in her Tara's heart. As for not informing you, I sent you a letter."

Her presence brought a much-needed sense of comfort. "Thank you, Mother. Your support means everything to me."

"Let me take you to the guest chambers," I offered, guiding her along.

"I wish to first meet your mother-in-law," Maa said.

"Rajmata Pratibha, lovely to see you," Rani Maa greeted my mother.

"Likewise, Rajmata," my mother replied, her anger barely concealed.

"Mother," I whispered, pulling her towards the guest chambers.

"Why did you stop me? Did she stop that Katika Kutika from becoming her son's second wife?" my mother asked, her eyes wide with frustration.

"She, too, was unaware of Kanchana," I explained. Rani Maa had always been supportive of me.

"I don't believe that," my mother huffed, "I don't like her."

"Maa," I whined. Mother had always been unhappy that I had been married into the kingdom of Aranyapura. She had wanted me to marry the prince of Rudravaya, Hemant, but Father was pretty adamant in wanting relations with the Aranyapura Empire. So here I was, married to the Crown Prince of Aranyapura at the age of seventeen, three years ago and was crowned king a month later, making me his queen. His First Queen.

The palace temple was steeped in the scent of incense and the murmur of prayers as the Trithiya ceremony began. Anshuman and I sat side by side, our hands clasped tightly. The priest chanted solemnly, his words echoing in the sacred space, reminding us of the son we had lost. We followed all the instructions for the havan(sacred offering).

The ceremony concluded, and we returned to our chambers in silence. The weight of our grief was overwhelming, and as soon as the door closed behind us, my composure shattered. I started sobbing, thinking of the small life that was lost due to a conspiracy. The son that was supposed to be our future left us even before breathing once. Anshuman reached for me, pulling me into his arms.

"Tara," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I miss our child every day."

I clung to him, my sobs uncontrollable. "I do, too, Anshuman. I do, too. Our Akshaj. Why did they have to take him away from us? He did no wrong."

He held me tighter, "I'm so sorry that I couldn't protect you both. This loss. It never gets easier, does it?"

I shook my head, tears blurring my vision. "No, it doesn't. Every day, I think of what could have been. Of what we lost."

Anshuman's voice choked with emotion. "I see his face in my dreams, you know. Our perfect little boy. Our perfect little heir. And then I wake up, and the pain hits me all over again."

I buried my face in his chest, my tears soaking his tunic. "I feel the same. Sometimes, I can't breathe thinking about him. Thinking about how close we were to playing with him in our arms."

He stroked my hair, his touch gentle and soothing. "We have to stay strong, Tara. For our kingdom. For the future we plan to build."

I nodded, though the weight of our loss felt insurmountable. "I know. But sometimes I feel so weak. So broken."

Anshuman lifted my chin, his eyes searching mine. "You are the strongest person I know, Tara."

His words were a balm to my wounded heart. We stood there, holding each other, letting our shared grief flow between us. The pain was still raw, but in that moment, we found solace in each other's arms.

The next day, after a quiet lunch, my mother summoned Anshuman and me to the garden. Rajmata Pratibha was also present. The garden was steeped in a tense silence as Rajmata Pratibha spoke.

"Nayantara, Anshuman," Rajmata Pratibha began, "We need to address the urgent matter of securing an heir. The stability of the kingdom relies on it."

"What are you suggesting, Rani Maa?" I asked, struggling to maintain my composure.

She turned her gaze to Anshuman. "One option is for both of you to produce an heir. The other is for Anshuman to spend more time with his second wife, Kanchana, which could increase the chances of having a child."

The suggestion felt like a knife to the heart. Anshuman's continued silence was a betrayal, his indecisiveness starkly contrasting the gravity of the situation. How dare my mother-in-law even suggest this! After all that she went through with the same situation as me, how could she even do this!

I felt a surge of anger. "So, the solution is to push me aside and have Anshuman focus on another woman? This is my home, my rightful place. I refuse to be marginalized."

Maa stepped forward, her face a mask of anger and disappointment. "Rajmata, this is outrageous. Nayantara has already suffered enough. To suggest she leave her husband in another woman's arms and add this burden on her is beyond unacceptable."

Rajmata Pratibha's expression remained resolute. "The kingdom's needs are paramount. We must consider all possible solutions."

My mother's eyes were filled with hurt as she turned to Rajmata Pratibha. "If this is how you value my daughter, then perhaps it's time for a serious reconsideration."

I turned to Anshuman, desperation and frustration mingling in my voice. "Anshuman, you must speak up! You can't let this happen. I need you to stand by me, to fight for our place here."

Anshuman finally met my eyes, his voice barely a whisper. "Tara, I... I am with you, but I am unsure how to confront this."

His hesitance was a crushing blow, his inability to assert himself adding to my despair. I needed his strength and support, but his passivity left me feeling even more isolated.

Maa's expression hardened. "If this is how my daughter is to be treated, then I will take her with me. She needs time away from this pressure and this family's shortcomings. I will not stand by while she is mistreated."

Rajmata Pratibha's eyes remained unwavering. "The needs of the kingdom must be met, regardless of personal feelings."

I shook my head, my resolve crystallizing amidst the turmoil. "No, I will not leave. This is my home, my rightful place. I will not be driven away. No second woman can take what belongs to me. How could you be so spineless?"

Anshuman reached for my hand, his grip trembling. "Tara, I want to find a way through this. But I fear I am powerless against my mother's demands. She is right in a way. We do need an heir."

The day's confrontation left me feeling hollow, and the grandeur of our chambers now felt oppressive. I lay in bed, staring at the intricate carvings on the ceiling, consumed by the tension in my life. The door creaked open, and Anshuman entered, his face etched with a mix of desperation and resolve. He approached the bed slowly, the weight of the day's events evident in his every movement.

"Tara," he began, his voice strained but determined. "We need to talk."

I turned away from him, frustration and hurt heavy in my heart. "What more is there to say, Anshuman? Everything is already so spoiled. You can't even support me. Your mother suddenly is supporting my sautan(co-wife)."

He sat at the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on me with a blend of desperation and resolve. "I know things are difficult between us. But we need to address the issue of an heir. It is not just Rani Maa but also the council. They wish that by the end of this Deepavali, an announcement of an heir is made."

I could feel the emotional weight of his words pressing down on me. "And what if I'm not ready? What if I can't bear the thought of being so close to you right now? I am not able to forgive your betrayal."

Anshuman's eyes darkened with a mix of determination and underlying menace. "Tara, this isn't just about us. This is about everything we've worked for. If we don't produce an heir, our position, our future-it all hangs in the balance."

I felt a pang of unease. "Are you trying to blackmail me into this? Using our future and the kingdom's demands as a weapon against me?"

His expression softened, but his tone remained urgent. "I'm not trying to blackmail you. I'm trying to make you understand the gravity of our situation. If we don't act, the consequences could be dire-for both of us. We're facing immense pressure, and I don't want to lose you or everything we've built."

I sat up, my emotions boiling over. "And what if I refuse? What happens to us then?"

Anshuman's face hardened, his voice dropping to a low, almost threatening murmur. "If you refuse, we risk everything. The kingdom will demand answers, and we could be forced into a position where we have to choose between our duty and our love. I don't want to be put in that position again, Tara. I will lose your respect even as a King if not as a husband."

The tension in the room was palpable. I felt a mix of fear and anger at the emotional manipulation. Despite the pressure, a part of me still cared deeply for him and our shared future. The weight of our situation was overwhelming.

"What do you want from me?" I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of resignation and defiance. "How can I reconcile my own feelings with the demands of the kingdom?"

Anshuman's gaze was intense, his desperation evident. "I need you to understand that this is not just about us. It's about our legacy, our future. If we don't have a child, we'll face repercussions that could destroy everything we've worked for. I need you to act now for the sake of our future."

"Ansh," I said, frustration evident in my voice, "forcing this upon me... it's not right. Is this truly the only way?"

"No," he said, "I'll just go sleep with Kanchana and have an heir with her instead, then. That is the option you want me to take?"

The room seemed to close in on me, the pressure mounting. The chamber was shrouded in dim candlelight, casting elongated shadows on the walls as Anshuman looked at me with a mix of urgency and desire. I took a deep breath, my resolve wavering.

"Alright," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'll try. But this isn't easy for me."

Anshuman's expression softened, a flicker of relief crossing his face. "Thank you, Tara."

He reached out, his touch tentative yet filled with desperate hope. His hands trembled slightly as he began to undress me. His touch was a mix of intimacy and urgency, each movement a blend of comfort and need. His fingers fumbled with the ties of my sari, the fabric slipping away to reveal my skin. Despite my emotional conflict, his touch reminded me of our bond.

"Let me ease your burdens, Tara," he murmured, his voice a velvet caress. "Allow me to take you to a place of pure pleasure, where all our troubles dissolve."

As he undressed me, his hands were meticulous, his touch tracing my body with a mixture of reverence and need. "You're so enchanting, Tara," he whispered. "Every inch of you is a marvel I desire."

My skin tingled with his touch, but my frustration remained palpable. "Ansh," I said, my voice breaking, "this feels so overwhelming. I don't know if I can..."

He paused, looking into my eyes with a mixture of resolve and tenderness. "I need you to be present with me, Tara. Let me show you the depths of my devotion."

His lips brushed against my neck, his kisses soft and lingering, igniting a flame of warmth despite my inner turmoil. "Let me make you feel good," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. "I want to fulfil you, to make you forget our sorrows."

His lips travelled lower, kissing the curve of my breast. His touch was a blend of passion and tenderness, each kiss a plea for connection. "Tara, you're my queen," he whispered, his voice filled with longing. "Let me serve you in every way."

I closed my eyes, struggling to focus on the sensations he was evoking. Despite my emotional conflict, his touch was a reminder of our bond. "Ansh," I gasped, my breath uneven, "this feels so intense."

He looked at me with a mixture of relief and desire. "I want to make you cry out in pleasure, Tara," he said, his voice husky. "I want to hear your moans as I take you to the brink."

With deliberate movements, he guided me onto the bed. His entry was slow, each thrust a blend of urgency and longing. The room was filled with the sounds of our bodies moving together, punctuated by soft moans and the rustling of sheets. His grip on my hips was firm, guiding me as we moved in sync.

"Tell me you're with me, Tara," he pleaded, his voice strained. "I need to feel that you're here with me."

"I'm here," I gasped, my voice breaking with each breath. "I'm with you, Ansh."

His thrusts were rhythmic and powerful, each movement a desperate attempt to bridge the emotional divide. "Feel me inside you, Tara," he whispered, his voice rough with need. "Let me claim you; let me make you mine."

His breath was hot against my ear as he leaned closer, his lips brushing my skin. "Tara, I need you like this, every part of you."

I responded with a mix of vulnerability and need, my voice trembling. "Yes, Maharaj. I was always your Tara."

As we reached the climax, the room echoed with our shared exertion. His groans mingled with my cries of pleasure, the intensity of our efforts a raw expression of our attempt to reconnect.

Afterwards, we lay side by side, the silence heavy with our shared burden. My head was on his shoulder. Everything almost seemed like before. Almost. But it wasn't.

"Thank you," he said softly, his voice filled with exhaustion and relief. "I know this wasn't easy, but we've taken a step forward."

"This happened because no one else deserves my place," I said, "Not even if you want to give my place to someone else."

"I will never give your place to someone, Tara," he said, "I promised you always."

"You promised me that you would never take a second wife," I said, "And you broke it."

"I've apologised time and again for it," he answered.

"Countless apologies can't mend the mirror of trust you have broken," I said, moving away from his arm onto the pillow.

"Is it always going to be like this between us? The mistake I made creating a huge hole of a barrier?" he whispered.

"Yes," I said as I turned my back towards him and slept.