Aryavardhan took a deep breath, his chest expanding as he prepared to speak a truth that would change the course of their lives.
"Princess," he began, his voice grounding the room's tension, "until recently, Varunaprastha was viewed by the high councils of Aryavarta as a territory to be annexed. Our marriage was intended to bridge that divide, but I fear the public eye. They will not see a union of hearts; they will see a cold political contract—a surrender disguised as a wedding. I refuse to let our bond be tainted by the word ‘subjugation.’"
King Vishwara leaned forward, his brow furrowed with concern. "Then what is the alternative, Aryavardhan? How do we preserve the dignity of my people?"
Aryavardhan looked directly at Megha. "The coronation of Princess Megha."
The Daughter’s Defiance
The silence that followed was deafening. Megha felt a surge of hot blood rush to her cheeks. She stood abruptly, her chair scraping harshly against the stone floor.
"Maharaj Aryavardhan!" she cried, her voice trembling with a mix of shock and fury. "Do you even hear yourself? How could you suggest such a thing? To dethrone my father—to strip him of his crown and hand it to me like a piece of stolen jewelry—is this how you view loyalty?"
To her bewilderment, both her father and Aryavardhan shared a soft, knowing smile.
"Princess," Aryavardhan said gently, "what makes you think your father would lose his throne?"
Megha looked between them, her mind spinning. "I don’t understand. If I am crowned, how can he still rule? I will not be the instrument of my father's retirement."
"That is the beauty of the solution we have crafted," Aryavardhan explained. "You will not be crowned as the Queen of Varunaprastha. You will be crowned as the Empress of all Aryavarta. Your father will continue to rule these lands, not just as a king, but as the Sovereign Regent acting in your name. His authority remains untouched; it is merely elevated by your new status."
Megha’s pride was still stinging. She felt like a pawn in a game played by titans. "And what if I refuse?" she asked, her voice tight and defiant. "What if I choose to remain only a daughter of this soil?"
Aryavardhan’s tone shifted. It became sharp, like the edge of the sword he had handed his brother. "Princess, you must understand—this is not a request. This proposal was born from your father’s wisdom and has my full seal of approval. Maharaj Vishwara knows the storm that will break over Varunaprastha if this alliance fails. For the sake of your people, there is no other path."
Without another word, Aryavardhan turned and swept out of the chamber, leaving the air vibrating in his wake.
A Father’s Wisdom
Now alone, the heavy silence of the room pressed down on Megha. She sank to the floor at her father's feet, reaching out to hold his weathered hand just as she had as a small child.
"Father," she whispered, her eyes searching his. "How could you agree to this? Without the ministers? Without the court? You’ve given away your legacy."
