As Megha raised the golden scepter, the diamond at its tip caught the dawn’s light, casting a brilliant flare over the courtyard. The roar from the townspeople was deafening—a tidal wave of sound that shook the very air. Megha waited for the silence to return, her grip tightening on the heavy metal.
"I swear," she began, her voice ringing with a newfound iron clarity, "with the Tridevi as my witness, before King Aryavardhan, my father, my mother, and every soul gathered here today. I shall govern by the ancient Vedic traditions. My life is no longer my own; it belongs to you. No citizen shall go unheard, no grievance shall go unaddressed. I will consult the wise and protect the weak. I will look upon this kingdom not as a territory, but as my family. In every breath, I am your ruler first, and a woman second."
A second wave of cheers erupted, her name echoing off the temple walls. With the weight of the oath settling into her spirit, Megha moved with grace. She knelt to touch the feet of her parents and the priest, and finally, she bowed before Aryavardhan.
The procession moved to the royal court, where the air was thick with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood. Megha ascended the steps of the throne, the scepter still held firmly in her palm. But as she reached the seat of power, she did not sit. Instead, she turned back to the assembly.
"As the Sovereign of Varunaprastha," she declared, her voice echoing through the hall, "I hereby appoint my father, Maharaj Vishvara, to act in my stead until I join my King, Aryavardhan, in the capital. He shall hold the scales of justice and the sword of protection on my behalf."
With a humble bow, she stepped aside and gestured for her father to take the seat. The court erupted in a chant of "Jai Ho!"—a celebration of her wisdom in preserving her father's dignity. Aryavardhan watched her, a look of profound pride and "blossoming" admiration on his face.
He stepped into the center of the hall, his presence commanding instant silence. "Maharaj Vishvara, our purpose here is fulfilled. We bid you farewell. And Princess Megha..." he paused, his eyes locking onto hers with a silent promise, "we shall be reunited soon."
In a shimmer of light, Aryavardhan and Rajvardhan vanished, leaving behind only the scent of ozone and the heavy silence of their absence.
The sudden void left Megha feeling hollow. She retreated to her chambers, the weight of her crown feeling heavier now that she was alone. On the floor of her room, something caught her eye: a single golden arrow and a vibrant peacock feather. They felt like talons of destiny. She tucked them away safely, then sank into her meditation, seeking solace in the stillness of Lord Vishnu’s image.
Meanwhile, leagues away at the southern edge of Aryavarta, the brothers reappeared in the salt-mist courtyard of the Rameshvara Mahadeva Temple. Aryavardhan immediately pressed his forehead to the sacred earth in a full prostration. Rajvardhan followed suit, though his mind was spinning.
