The prince married the princess thrice.

****

Aryamna never ceased worrying, and events which had the chance of making him more restless never stopped occuring. The stupid kings went on babbling about their own wives and the spice of marriage, never understanding that the time was running.

The night had deepened when he finally reached his cottage.The kings left the Senapati and journeyed for their own kingdoms. There, the women greeted Aryamna.

The oldest lady of the village, who had gifted Ishvara that red veil, said, "You are late."

Wicked memories came back. The ghosts of past nibbled at his peace. Looking over her shoulder, he said, "The kings took time talking to me. I am sorry."

She shook her head. "Bad manners. You need to be even more careful now. You are a married man. Discipline is an important part_"

"Ugh!" A lady scoffed. "Maa, leave the man. Look how he's trying to peer into the room beyond! Here," she turned to the Senapati, "adorn your wife with these. It's a ritual. Tomorrow morning when we come and see her, she must be wearing the flowers, alright?"

"We will ask her if you did it or not," another chimed in.

Aryamna looked confused. "You all are going to stay here? My cottage is too small. Should I make arrangements-"

"Raksa has made for us tents and tasty treats. Now go, she must be waiting for you. We won't disturb." The women waved Aryamna goodbye and he closed the door of his cottage.

The window of his bedroom was curtained but the glimmering light of ten lamps lighted up the interiors. The door was kept ajar.

His heartbeats increased. Blinking rapidly, he shook his head and bent his neck to the sides, trying to relax himself. "It can't go wrong. It can't."
He couldn't mess up.

"She's different now."

It hurt him.

Yet, he had hoped against hope, secretly wishing for her return beneath an armour of heartless service. And now when she did, he would accept, however hard may be the cost.

Slowly, he approached the door. He wondered how tense she would be. Ironically, she would see this as her first time.

"I have to be careful. I can't trigger her. I will be sweet and soft."

Not that 'nasty little thing' Rudra called me. If I could control my desires all these years, I can stop myself from claiming her body tonight.

He opened the door. He didn't have the instant courage to look at her, so he just acted like the door took a whole lot of time to get locked. Hah, he would call it extra precaution on a wedding night. A good excuse it would be since people like Raksa could gladly be nosy about how a celibate's first night would go.

Not that I am planning to do anything. I cannot make love to her knowing she doesn't even remember me.

He was sure he was failing and his heart broke upon seeing her sitting quietly with the veil on, arms hugging the legs closer.

Maybe she was feeling cold.

A butterfly fluttered inside his stomach.

I can embrace her and give her all the heat. I can... But, I cannot.

Aryamna went and sat at the edge of the bed, keeping the basket of flowers beside. He was frustrated. There was no way he could be free like the olden times, but still would have to do this lifting the veil and other unnecessary drama.

Who even invented this?

Peering at her with a sidelong glance, he found her to have removed the veil. She immediately let loose and went back to hiding.

He was overpowered by a new set of worries.

"No! You don't need to hide." He waved his hands. "I am sorry, I am just not good at handling-"

Shut up, zip your lips.

"I mean I am new to this, as much as you are."

He was giving a very bad first impression. He just hoped his performance at the marriage ceremony was good enough to have outshone this hilarious stupidity.
Ishvara lifted her veil. She was blushing intensely. "I understand."

Aryamna felt his hard exterior melt upon hearing that voice. He imagined her swimming in the royal bathhouse, calling out to him to join her in the fun.

Oh well, we can skip those for now.

"I am new to this too," she added.

Aryamna nodded. "Yes. I hope you aren't uncomfortable?"

Ishvara smiled. "No, I am absolutely-"

"No! You don't need to be shy! Tell me if the room is nice. If you need anything, just tell me. Don't hesitate. It might happen that you feel stressed, but all my friends and students are friendly and cooperative. At least they like you, but they disturb me a lot. So even if you think no one is caring here, actually-"

"Swami, I am fine. I promise I will tell you if I ever need anything."

And with that, Aryamna's heart flew away with pigeon wings and landed on her lap.

Swami- he had never imagined in his wildest dreams that the princess would call him Swami. He was habituated hearing her curses.

Does it fit with her personality? He debated.

"Did you eat?" she asked.

He had forgotten to get a good look at her. She had freshened up and changed into a lighter garment. A garnet red cotton bodice with a deep round neckline fitted perfectly around her bosom, patterns of rose embroidered with flaxen threads. A red mukhapata had been veiling her face, which now rested on the bed. A long tight-fitted skirt was wrapped around her waist using a brown mekhala. The midriff was left bare.

"Swami, di-did you eat?"

Aryamna's eyes drifted from the navel to her embarrassed face in a second. She fidgeted with the veil, lips pressed together. He looked away, chiding himself mentally for losing control. "I have eaten plenty. They had a huge feast in the palace. But I doubt you had something good."

"No, I did. I feel full."

"So you are liking the people here?"

"Yes." Ishvara couldn't help but compare the hostility of Gandhar to the openness of Ishgar. Resting her head on her knee, she dreamily spoke, "They welcomed me with love. I never felt like I was coming here for the first time."

The hands of fate squeezed the life out of his heart. Blood rushed through his veins, ears ringing incessantly. "You should always feel at home." His voice was cracked.

A brief silence ensued. Ishvara's eyes darted across the room. It was too humble an abode for the Senapati of Ishgar. Beside the bed and a huge trunk, nothing else boasted of even a pinch of royalty. She heard that he earlier used to sleep on the floor or a khatia, and only when his marriage was fixed did he decide to buy a nice bed.

There was a little bedside table with a lantern and some books. Sitting just at its feet were two big earthen pots covered with lids. Three shelves were made on the walls on which many containers and other necessities were present. A mattress was rolled and kept in one corner of the room.

"I think we need to let loose."

For a moment, Ishvara thought he was talking about the usual task of a wedding night. Fortunately, when he continued, her fears subsided.

"Both of us don't know each other well. Or let's say even if intuition works, we need to get to understand each other."

Ishvara didn't know why she felt his face was familar. "I kind of feel I have seen you earlier." She bit her lips. "But I don't remember."

He had to start again.

Not many got the chance to relive a broken story and mend a tragedy into a happily ever after. He would make her fall in love with him again, all over again. And if required, every time she forgot him. "I guess you had seen me while I was on a mission in Gandhar. I am a mage beside my position as a Senapati. Before being entitled to this much of respect, I had only been a mage. I suppose you know where I belong."

Ishvara nodded. "I do, and I accept. People say my mother had been a veshya too, but I never saw her."
Ishvara had prepared some lies in case her husband decided to question further, but he dodged all those parts.

"I had many adventures in my life. When Indu was younger, I used to tell her stories about how I fought goons and dark mages. And one day came when she herself began going on such missions."

Ishvara relaxed slowly. She freed her legs and sat leaning on the side of the bed. "Did you feel worried about her?"

"Everytime. She can be very notorious. I hope she will listen to you, and don't let her do just anything. She might have grown up but she is still naive."

Ishvara giggled. The frown of his face was ironically endearing, the fatherly affection something Ishvara herself missed in her life. "I will make a good friendship with her and see if I can teach her how to remain calm."

"Fantastic! Then I can take some rest."

"Why, you say as if she is the most disobedient kid?"

Just like her mother, he thought. "Rebellious. I do appreciate that quality of her, but lately she has been in bad company."

Ishvara parted her lips in shock and scratched her chin, deciding if any comment should be made. "You mean, the Rajan?"

Aryamna rolled his eyes. "Yes, that man."

Ishvara didn't know if giving an opinion would be the best thing to do, lest he thought her to be rough and mannerless. She tried toning it down. "Won't he punish you if he knows you speak like this about him?"

"I am like his older brother. As much as I praise his skills, I also condemn him for his vices."

"I just hope the three of you work well."

She cast a look on the basket of flowers. She knew why those had been sent. Following her gaze, Aryamna found what had suddenly caught her interest.

"Umm, actually, not me but, umm," Aryamna fumbled. "They, I mean the women gave these to me."

Ishvara understood his hesitation. It was quite contrasting- the way he boldly professed his acceptance during the marriage rituals and now in a dilemma to romance behind closed doors. She found it adorable, even though she was in a same sticky situation like him. One was pushed into the marital institution from the bindings of celibacy, and another ushered into infinite surprises from the mundane chains of a a lonely world.

"Would you mind if I complete this ritual of adorning you?" he asked.

How could she deny? "I will be grateful," she said, a red tint accentuating her cheeks.

Ishvara turned her back towards him and untied her bun. With quivering fingers, Aryamna tried to undo the clasps and carefully take out the pin after untangling the locks. The gajra fell down on his lap, silky waves of hair now spreading a fragrance of jasmine in the air. The floral smell wafted to his nose. He sat still, taking in the beauty of the moment in silence.

His fingers reached for the back of her neck. While her skin was cold, his warm palms had beads of sweat.
Aryamna's lips tingled, tempted to kiss her neck. He closed his eyes and reminded himself to be slow.

He took out her earrings and made her wear the ones of tuberose petals. Ishvara's pupils dilated when his fingers stayed a little longer under her earlobes. Aryamna took two garlands, then carefully circled them around her hair, making a bun on the side and put two tuberose in it.

"I learnt it all for Indu. She had no mother, so I learnt how to make different hairstyles." He patted her head gently.

"Sweet of you."

Ishvara didn't know how to reciprocate. He was trying hard to make her feel comfortable, but she needed time. Maybe she would listen to him talking and telling stories, enjoying the silly side of the steel Senapati. "Swami, I thought you were very strict. You proved me wrong."

A gush of wind tickled Aryamna.
"Ishvara..."

Life stopped dead. Her heart skipped a beat. A sudden darkness consumed her, blurring the sight. She closed her eyes.

It horrified her.

"I am strict, but I do have a soft side too."

She faked a smile. A numbing pain pricked her neck, travelling up to the back of the skull. She clutched the pleats of her skirt. Like he had read her mind, his fingers entwined with the crispy curled lovelocks. Lissom fingers massaged her head. Soon, she felt sleepy. "Swami, can I sleep now? The day has been tiring." She yawned.

"Sure." Aryamna got down from the bed and quickly opened the trunk. Searching through it, he brought out a fine woolly blanket and then gave it to Ishvara. "Well, you might feel not at home since this is your first night."

"Believe me, Ishgar already feels so much like home." Ishvara took the blanket. "Won't you sleep?"

Aryamna shook his head. "No," he said dryly.

"Oh..." Ishvara looked at her lap. "I suppose you have the habit of working at night. You are a soldier." She wondered if he wanted to give her space. "Don't worry. I will-" There was a knock at the main door. "So late at night?"

Aryamna took out his dagger, stealthily making his way to the door. "Be quiet, Ishvara."

The pack had assured there was no mysterious activity and many of the werewolves were posted around Ishgar during his marriage. But still, Aryamna didn't want to be complacent about security.

Fortunately, he heard a familiar palace guard's voice. From what he understood this one usually guarded Rudra's room. He opened the door to find the same man whom he had predicted, panting, and with dirty feet. He put his hands on his hips, scrutinizing the guard. "Did you run all the way-"

"Pardon me, Senapati, but you must report to the Rajan tomorrow morning."

Aryamna knew Rudra would not be so cruel as to forbid him from the rapture of this precious night even after the twisted riddle he had sung.
"But why?"

The guard wiped his forehead. "Indumala- she had fainted."

Aryamna gasped, holding onto the doorframe. "What?"

"Yes, Senapati. She might have drunk too much. The Rajan was angry but he helped her. He wants to meet you tomorrow."

Aryamna shivered in rage. "Alright. Leave."

Seeing the Senapati distressed, the guard immediately hopped onto his horse. Aryamna shut the door with a thud. Inside, Ishvara sat with a million doubts in her mind.
"Swami, what happened?"

"Indu fainted. No, not due to illness. The brat was drunk!" He banged his fist on the bedside table. "Is that what I get in return for the values I inculcated in her? Damn it!"

Ishvara flinched. Aryamna parted his lips, eyes glistening with worry. "I am sorry, I am so sorry! I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," she assured. "But please don't be too hard on her."

"You don't know, but she is becoming a spoiled child after joining the palace. I never expected this to happen. I must leave now. You can sleep. Don't take much stress."

Ishvara didn't want to stop the man. Maybe being a father was this difficult.

The surroundings felt sour and ominous. Her presence had indeed deteriorated the situation.

She did not want to be a bridge between the father and daughter, neither a bride deemed to be a symbol of bad luck. Maybe the villagers would indulge in small-talks about the bride and groom staying away on the marriage night.

"Alright. I will pray for her." Ishvara was helpless. She had to bear the heat of superficial tongues. "Goodbye."

She looked at the door as he had almost went out the room, but suddenly took a turn, and before she knew he had held her firmly by the shoulders and pushed her softly on the bed. Her head spun, senses intoxicated by the mere theories and possibilities that could come true.
He simply grabbed the blanket and put it over her.

"And you don't need to wake up early, neither blame yourself for any of it."

She wished to object but he had shushed her. She could only feel his rugged, erratic breathing and the touch of his thumb upon her wet lips.
"I can read minds. Be careful." He winked and left, leaving Ishvara in a whirlpool of thoughts.