Aarvi sat on the edge of her bed, her eyes fixed on her sleeping daughter. The gentle creaking of the cradle as she swung it back and forth was a soothing rhythm, harmonizing with the quietude of the night. Her heart swelled with pride and purpose as she gazed at her newborn daughter, Krishneshwari, swathed in exquisite silks and adorned with jewels that sparkled like stars in the midnight sky.

Memories flooded her mind—kings and emperors, their regal heads bowed in reverence before the infant, their faces etched with both respect and a hint of fear. The image of the great Kurus, with their regal postures and war-torn legacies, humbly honoring her daughter echoed fiercely in her thought. The image of the great rulers, proud and storied, humbling themselves at her daughter’s feet lingered in her mind, a testament to the divine power that Krishneshwari embodied.

She knew that her daughter was the Akhand Maharani. She knew that Krishneshwari was a goddess, a divine being sent to bless the world. But now, as she watched her daughter sleep, she was truly beginning to understand the magnitude of her daughter's destiny.

Aarvi felt the gravity of her lineage, the legacy they carried, and the expectations that lay ahead. Yet, a flicker of doubt clouded her maternal instincts. In her fervent desire to protect Krishneshwari from the harshness of the world, she feared she might inadvertently shroud her greatness. Would her instincts to safeguard lead to a stifling of the very spirit that was meant to illuminate the realm ?

She realized the impact that Krishneshwari could have on Aryavarta, the potential for goods that she held within her. The gentle creaking of the cradle mingled with her thoughts, swirling around the greatness that Krishneshwari would one day embody. Aarvi understood that nurturing her was not just a maternal duty; it was a sacred responsibility to the realm.

Lost in this reverie, Aarvi was oblivious to the world outside her thoughts, the soft rustle of silk and the quiet footsteps that approached. King Dilip entered the room, his regal presence a stark contrast to the tranquility enveloping the queen. He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of his wife, her form illuminated by the golden hues of sunset, an ethereal glow surrounding her.

As he stepped closer, he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, the touch stirred Aarvi from her thoughts, and she turned to face him, her expression blooming into a warm smile. Dilip’s lips curled in response, a shared moment of love between them, before his gaze shifted to the cradle, nestled within the swaddling blankets, where their daughter was, a vision of innocence and potential. Dilip settled beside Aarvi, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten.

The golden light of the evening sun filtered through the ornate windows, casting gentle shadows that danced across the walls.

King Dilip gently broke the tranquil silence, his voice warm and soothing, "Kuruvanshiyo ne Hastinapur hetu prasthaan kar diya hai."

Aarvi nodded slowly, still lost in the magic of the moment, the soft sounds of Krishneshwari's gentle breathing filling the air.

"Woh sab ati-prasann the." He continued, glancing back at their sleeping daughter, a picture of innocence and promise, "Aisa laga ki Krishneshwari ko dekh kar unhe jo sukh mila, woh unhe kahi nahi mila."

Aarvi's lips curled into a soft smile, her heart swelling with joy at the thought of the respect and admiration their daughter inspired. "Dekha maine.... Samast loko ko anandit kar rakha hai humari putri ne."

Dilip nodded, a sense of pride swelling within him.

Aarvi then confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, yet rich with emotion, "Arya, kabhi kabhi ashcharya hota hai. Vishwas nahi ho pata ki yahi Akhand Maharani hai. Yeh chhoti si, abodh, komal balika, ek devi hai.... yeh mere samajh mei nahi aa pata."

Dilip's eyes softened as he looked at Aarvi, then back at their daughter. "Matritva ka bhaav, kabhi kabhi netro par moh ki patti baandh deta hai. Satya-asatya, sahi-galat, dharm-adharm, kuch dikhayi nahi deta. Dikhayi deta hai toh keval apni santaan ka sukh."

A smile broke across Aarvi's face, radiating a sense of wonder. She gazed lovingly at their child, whose tiny form seemed to shimmer with divinity. Dilip’s face lit up with a goofy grin, the kind that only a father could wear when marveling at his child’s potential.

"Waise yeh patti mere netro par bhi bandh chuki hai," Dilip said standing up, "Anyatha kisi devi ke nidra mei kaun murkh vighn daalega."

With a sudden and silly flourish, he reached for Krishneshwari, wrapping his arms around her with a gentle affection. As he lifted her, the movement disturbed the peaceful slumber of the infant. A soft coo escaped Krishneshwari's lips as her eyes fluttered open, the world around her slowly coming into focus.

Aarvi gasped, eyes widening in alarm, "Maharaj ! Yeh kya kar rahe hai aap ?!" she scolded, her voice a mix of concern and disbelief.

But Dilip only chuckled, the sound warm and inviting, echoing the joy that surrounded them.

"Ab apni putri ke saath khel bhi nahi sakta, kya ?" He exclaimed, unabashedly reveling in the moment.

Krishneshwari blinked, a tiny frown forming on her face as she processed what just happened and what was happening around her. Aarvi couldn’t help but soften at the sight of them together—Dilip, with his silly grin, and their daughter, a tiny bundle of grace.

Aarvi huffed, a playfully exasperated smile breaking through. Krishneshwari's wide, innocent eyes darting between her parents, her expression a mix of confusion and curiosity. She instinctively clung to her father's neck, searching for the familiar comfort of his embrace.

Aarvi watched, her heart melting as she took in the sight of her husband holding their daughter, both of them encapsulated in a bubble of love. Dilip nuzzled his cheek against Krishneshwari's soft head, eliciting a soft coo from the baby.

Aarvi's lips curled into a radiant smile as she reached out to caress Krishneshwari's curly locks. As the gentle ambiance of the room enveloped them, a maid entered, her footsteps barely making a sound on the polished floor. She cleared her throat softly, catching the attention of both Aarvi and Dilip.

"Haiheya-kul samarth rahe." She began, bowing respectfully, "Suchna mili hai, ki Rajkumari se milne nagar ki seema mei ek aur Rajkul aya hai."

Dilip's expression shifted, a flicker of concern crossing his face as he turned to Aarvi. The unspoken worry lingered in the air: would she welcome yet another visitor so soon after the Kurus ? But Aarvi’s face wore a serene expression, an aura of grace that seemed to envelop her like a soft veil. Dilip, however, wondered whether she would welcome yet another visitor, her peace already fragile with the weight of recent honors.

Dilip, still holding Krishneshwari gently, leaned closer to Aarvi, his hand resting reassuringly on her shoulder. "Shubhey, yadi tum nahi chaahti ki koi anya atithi aaye toh iss baar mai tumhe vivash nahi karunga." he murmured, his tone soft yet firm, seeking her thoughts.

Aarvi met his gaze with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with maternal pride. "Hum kisi bhakt ko mandir mei aane se rok nahi sakte. Yahi aapne kaha tha mujhse."

Dilip smiled at her resilience and grace, she was finally recognizing her strength in navigating the world of royal duties. She was evolving into a mother with grace and strength, embodying the very essence of their lineage.

Turning to the maid, Dilip inquired, "Kaunsa Rajkul aaya hai ?"

"Saurashtra ke Maharaj Shekhar, Maharani Sunaina, Yuvraj Prithvik sahit padhare hai." the maid announced.

Aarvi's face transformed at the mention. A wide grin blossomed, a flicker of recognition igniting her eyes. The corners of her lips lifted, and her heart leaped, revealing a depth of unspoken affection.

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A/N

Those who have read HH1 will know ki kaun aya hai (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)