Written by Ten
“I am a fugitive, Princess. You will never know of any comfort.”
She glances up, her face void of any distress. “Then we’ll create comfort wherever we go.”
“They say I was born in a lower class. Your legitimacy will be questioned in association with mine.”
“I only know that I will be your wife regardless of who birthed or who raised you.”
“I will age, Prabha. This face you adore will become a canvas for time to spoil.”
“Then grant me the privilege of adoring Time’s artwork with each sunrise.”
The flames leap higher, the enemy cries resounding through the forest. I look at Prabha. Stray curls escape her braid, dagger strapped to her waist, face not unlike a blooming lotus, and eyes full of everything but fear. How does she manage to do that?
“Because of you, Varshneya.” She smiles, as if hearing my thoughts. “The day I heard of you, the man courageous enough to redefine existence for the unseen and the oppressed, I knew I’d found what I sought. Time and again, you spoke for the poor, the women, the elderly, and the children. Like a true prince, you put your kingdom’s safety above your ego.”
I laugh bitterly. “And look where it landed me, Prabha. I am ousted from my own kingdom, labelled a coward, and our own family is seeking to quench their swords’ thirst with our blood. I can never bring you joy, Prabha. Why do you keep insisting we do this?”
She looks up sharply, eyes rimmed red with rage. “Me? I don’t insist on anything, prince. Walk away if you wish to. Let me also have an eye-opening moment that the man I chose is a coward in the face of commitment.” Tears weigh her lashes, her ruby-red lips pulled in a straight line. “You made those choices, and you had nothing but righteous intentions. If that means suffering, then I’d be happy to halve it with you. And if you believe I’m the source of your peril, allow me to leave at once.”
I grab her wrist like a sinking man grabbing rope. “You are so sure about this, Prabha?”
Her gaze drifts to where our fingers intertwine, the gold of her skin melting into the caramel of mine. “Walk with me.” She says, eyes full of mirth, tugging me towards our tiny campfire and around it.
“Varsh, I promise to stand by your side in gains and losses, in victory and defeat. I promise to provide companionship and wise counsel when I find you going astray from your path. I promise to multiply your joys and divide your sorrows. I promise to shoulder responsibilities to the best of my ability. I promise to support you in all your righteous endeavors, and I promise never to abandon you regardless of the circumstances. I choose you, with nature as my witness. Do you?”
I all but melt from within. “Yes, princess, I promise you all of me, my undivided devotion, and my strength and courage. I promise you all I can say and all I can’t. I will not let you question your choice, I promise. Let it be known with nature as our witness.”
She smiles, her cheeks resembling the sky before dawn. I pull off my emerald necklace and slip it onto her neck. “Because we don’t have any garlands to exchange.” I elaborate when she shoots me a confused look.
“Very well,” she smiles before shyly taking off her ruby necklace and climbing a nearby rock to garland me. “There. Now, husband, ready to stand up for your choices?”
I follow her gaze to the rapidly approaching cloud of dust and bad decisions. Twenty years of speaking out, all distilled into half a day of combat. Good or bad, wise or idiotic, righteous or not, this was the final lap. The final leap. The final war.
I take her in, emerald resting atop her red robes, sword unsheathed, eyes clear with focus. Standing in front of me. Standing for me. Standing with me.
In that moment, I know what I am going to say, do, and be.
“Yes.”
.
Ten is a writer from India and an undergraduate student of clinical psychology. She writes about people, relationships, and the small moments that become unexpectedly important. Outside writing, she enjoys reading, observing the world around her, and finding stories in places where nobody else seems to be looking.