Chapter 2
Princess Swapnili lay by the marble steps beside the garden fountain, lost in her world of dreams.
A maid sat quietly near her feet.
Dressed in a soft golden gown, adorned with pearls on her hands and feet, Swapnili looked like a vision of grace.
She smiled faintly, drifting deeper into her thoughts.
Where is my prince…?
He would be brave.
Fearless.
A man whose very presence would command respect—like a lion among men.
And above all…
he would love her deeply.
Swapnili was the beloved daughter of King Maarg of the Sumetra Kingdom and his younger queen, Bhargavi. Cherished by all, she had grown up surrounded by affection and luxury.
A maid looked at her curiously.
"Princess, what are you thinking about so deeply?"
Swapnili sat up and laughed softly.
"At this age, what else do princesses think about?"
The maid blinked.
"What do they think about?"
Swapnili rolled her eyes.
"You're so foolish! Princesses like me dream of their prince. A brave, wise, powerful man… someone worthy of placing a garland upon."
She sighed dreamily, once again losing herself in her imagination.
But not all princesses lived in dreams.
Princess Dhananjayi—
the only daughter of Queen Basumati—was nothing like Swapnili.
She was sharp-minded, fearless, and unmatched in archery and swordsmanship.
Where others adorned themselves with jewels, she wielded weapons.
Where others danced, she trained.
King Maarg's first wife, Basumati, had lost five children before Dhananjayi was born. Because of this, the Queen Mother Saptaparni stripped Basumati of her royal privileges and forced the king to remarry.
Bhargavi entered the palace as the second queen—and soon gave birth to a son.
From that moment, everything changed.
Bhargavi and her children were honored.
Basumati and her daughter were exiled—forced to live outside the palace like commoners.
That day, a young Dhananjayi made a vow—
She would prove that she was more capable than any son.
Dhananjayi never dressed like a woman.
She trained like a warrior.
She rode horses, mastered weapons, and studied the art of war.
She wanted her father to see—
that she alone was worth a hundred sons.
Even at the age of six, she had been cast out with her mother. When she asked why, she was told:
"If you want to become your father's worthy son… you must live like one."
Twenty years had passed.
Her resolve had not wavered.
"Victory to King Maarg!"
The royal court echoed with chants as the king entered.
Dhananjayi stood silently.
There was no seat reserved for her.
She had to stand.
The court proceeded with matters of the kingdom until suddenly—
a guard dragged a man forward.
"Speak! Who are you?" the guard shouted.
King Maarg frowned.
"What is the matter?"
"He is a traitor, Your Majesty. He was inciting rebellion in the market."
Without hesitation, the king declared,
"Execute him."
Prince Soumitra spoke up,
"No—throw him into the crocodile lake."
Voices rose as courtiers offered punishments.
Then—
"Your Majesty…"
Dhananjayi stepped forward.
Soumitra muttered under his breath,
"Here comes that disgrace…"
Ignoring him, Dhananjayi said calmly,
"Forgive me, but a ruler must understand the reason behind rebellion before passing judgment."
Soumitra snapped,
"The king has already decided!"
The king raised his hand.
"Let her speak."
Dhananjayi turned to the accused man.
"Why did you rebel?"
The man bowed his head.
"We are the Durbar tribe, Your Majesty. We have lived on this land for over a thousand years. Yet our customs are banned. We are forced to pay extra for trade, and our crops are bought at unfair prices. Why are we treated this way?"
Soumitra stood angrily.
"Because you do not belong here!"
Dhananjayi's voice sharpened.
"And when these 'outsiders' unite with your enemies, how will you protect the kingdom?"
Soumitra glared at her.
"Stay out of this!"
The king intervened again.
"Enough."
He looked at Dhananjayi.
"These people are not truly part of our land."
Dhananjayi replied firmly,
"Sometimes, even the unwanted become the most needed. In times of war, the Durbar are the first to be called. If their basic demands are ignored, they will turn against us."
General Udayan stepped forward.
"Your Majesty, I agree with Princess Dhananjayi. We must think carefully. Our kingdom has many enemies."
The king nodded slowly.
"You are right."
Soumitra clenched his fists in anger.
"Will the kingdom now be run by common opinions?"
Udayan said calmly,
"She is no commoner. She is your elder sister."
Dhananjayi immediately intervened.
"General, let this matter end here."
Furious, Soumitra stormed out of the court.
Later…
Seeing his anger, Queen Mother Saptaparni asked,
"What troubles you, my son?"
"That girl—why is she allowed in the court?" Soumitra snapped.
Saptaparni sighed.
"It is not about our likes or dislikes. Blood cannot be denied. She is still Basumati's daughter."
"Then why is she not completely exiled?" he argued.
At that moment, Princess Shairini entered.
"You cannot take away her rights so easily," she said.
Soumitra frowned.
"Why not? I am the only son of the king!"
Shairini replied softly,
"I understand your pain. But blood… is still blood."
"I don't like her," Soumitra said coldly.
Just then, Queen Bhargavi entered.
"You must learn patience," she said firmly.
"Do you want to fall in your father's eyes?"
"No, Mother…"
"Then prove yourself worthy," she said, stepping closer.
"Bring her down in your father's eyes."
Soumitra's voice hardened.
"She is my first rival."
Before he could say another word—
Slap!
Bhargavi struck him across the face.
"Have you no shame?" she said sharply.
"To call a woman your rival?"
Soumitra stood stunned.
"She is not your rival," Bhargavi continued coldly.
"She is your enemy. A dangerous one."
Her eyes burned with intensity.
"She is better than you in war, strategy, and intelligence. So instead of complaining—become stronger."
With that, she turned and left.
To be continued…