The dawn mist curled gently above the holy waters of the Chandrasindhu River, silver and gold where sunlight first touched it. A faint hum of temple bells rolled through the air, mingling with the fragrance of jasmine that floated from the palace gardens of Suryanagari.
Princess Aaranya stood barefoot at the river's edge, her silken veil brushing the water. The river had always whispered to her — ever since she was a child. Most said it was imagination, but she knew better.
"You are the daughter of the sun and the river," the water murmured in her mind, "and one day, your heart will decide the fate of kingdoms."
She smiled faintly, though her heart was restless. "And yet, I can't even decide what to wear without the council arguing," she muttered under her breath.
Behind her, the sound of anklets jingled. Her maid and childhood friend, Mira, came running down the marble steps.
"Princess! You'll be late for the council again. The queen mother has already asked twice for you."
Aaranya sighed. "The queen mother always asks twice. She enjoys the ritual of it."
"Today she might enjoy scolding you more," Mira teased, handing her a crimson shawl. "The foreign knight arrives before the third bell."
Aaranya froze mid-turn. "The foreign knight?"
"Yes — from the desert kingdom of Kaalden. The one their king sent as a sign of peace. He is to be your protector, remember?"
"I remember," Aaranya said slowly, glancing at her reflection in the rippling water. "But I don't need protection. What I need is freedom."
The river hummed in approval, as if agreeing. Mira, however, looked horrified. "Don't say that where the guards can hear! The ministers already think you're too rebellious."
Aaranya grinned mischievously. "Then I shall rebel beautifully."
The Palace Courtyard:
By the time the third bell echoed through the citadel, the palace courtyard was alive with colors — banners of gold and scarlet fluttered in the breeze. Courtiers stood in neat lines, perfumed and polished, waiting to welcome the knight from across the desert.
Aaranya arrived beside her mother, Queen Devayani, who stood like a statue carved from grace and power.
"Smile, child," the queen murmured without looking at her. "We do not if we are angry or serious upon alliances that keep empires from burning."
Aaranya forced a small smile. "As you command, Mother."
The gates opened.
A tall figure stepped forward, leading a black stallion whose mane shone like obsidian. He wore foreign armor — dark steel lined with strange runes (letters) — and a blue cloak embroidered with the crest of a sun devoured by sand.
His eyes, when he lifted his head, were like a gathering storm.
"This is Sir Rihan of Kaalden," announced Minister Chandrak. "He offers his sword and his life in service of Princess Aaranya."
Rihan bowed deeply. His voice was low, steady, and strangely musical.
"Your Highness. From this day, my blade belongs to you — in life, and in death."
The court murmured in admiration. Aaranya, however, tilted her head and studied him.
"Do knights from your land always speak of death so easily?" she asked, half-teasing.
Rihan met her gaze — calm, unreadable. "Only those who have already met it once, Your Highness."
The words silenced the courtyard. Aaranya felt her breath catch — not from fear, but from something far more dangerous: curiosity.
That Night:
The princess sat by her balcony, gazing at the moonlit river. The foreign knight's voice still echoed in her mind.
"Only those who have already met it once."
The river whispered again, faintly, like a secret breeze:
"Beware the man whose heart hides under sand. He will guard you, love you, and one day — he will break you."
Aaranya's eyes softened. "Then let him try," she whispered. "I was born by a river that breaks stone."
Far below, in the stables, Rihan looked up at the same moon. He pressed a hand to the hilt of his sword — the Varsha-blade, faintly glowing with raindrop light.
"Forgive me, Princess," he murmured, "for I come not only to protect you — but to change your destiny."