The silence woke her up.

She couldn't hear the usual chiming of anklets filling the room when her mother would walk in like a tempest to wake her up. Neither the servants' bickering nor the passionate cries of the practising soldiers made their way to her ears. Unlike any other day, she woke up alone in her room, surrounded by nothing but the crimson and purple furniture.

The curtains were still drawn. They hid the sunshine. Perhaps it was noon already.

Roshanak bit her lower lip. It wasn't good for a princess to sleep so late.

She climbed down the bed and opened the window. A heavy ache ate away at her heart. An uncanny pain weighed down on her. She poured herself a chalice of water and drank it.

The window oversaw a garden below. Even if they lived atop a rocky cliff, her father created this garden for her. The first seeds were sown when she was still in her mother's womb. Her father, like every other father, had wanted a son, but her mother helplessly desired for a girl. At the end, her mother was granted the fulfillment. Her father, Omkara, had put up a strained smile. After that, Omkara and his queen didn't bring any more kids. Roshanak was their first and last. Despite not being a son, she was pampered well. Maybe that was because she wasn't a son. Her father was very hard on the boys in his army. They all had blistered red backs, consequences of being flogged as a punishment. Roshanak felt scared of her father often.

Yet, this same man, whether he loved her deeply or not, nourished this garden for eighteen long years. Omkara wasn't very expressive with his love. He wasn't used to kissing and embracing his daughter. But he showed by his actions how much dear Roshanak was to him.

The garden, however, was in ruins today.

From a young age, Roshanak had come to associate the essence of the garden with her soul. She believed that the withering of the flowers would be a sign of her own farewell, maybe from this palace or perhaps the mortal realm itself. So when she saw the garden, with the flowers not only trampled but with spots of blood and dismembered limbs scattered around, a haunting black cloud hovered above her head.

Spears lay around like pebbles. Armours broken and trousers torn apart lay here and there. The sun shone above the scene of destruction, showering its merciful light over the bloodbath. The sun as if tried to bring Roshanak's attention to the calamity that had occurred when she was asleep peacefully.

The princess staggered back. Was this really then her end? Maybe she had already died and this was her soul thinking in the afterlife. She looked back at the bed- no, her body wasn't there. She pinched herself and blew a breath. Yes, she was alive.

She closed her eyes for some moments. Utter darkness engulfed her. She waited, hoping to wake up from this nightmare. A faint shriek disturbed her meditation. She jerked back to reality, the truth about the situation hitting her.

"This is true."

Those were her first words this morning. On other days it would have been- Maa, let me sleep a little longer- or maybe- is my bath ready?

Alas, the tranquility of commonplace happenings and the ease of a well-established life vanished. She was welcomed in the territory of horror.

Roshanak peered through the window again. This time, she tried to recognise the remains of the corpses. She had never seen so much of blood and severed limbs and legs. It made a knot in her stomach. She covered her mouth, stopping the urge to puke. The men, she realised from their now dirt-laden attire, were from her father's army. There were some other men too, dressed in black and red, unlike the ones from her side who wore plain brown.

She shut the window. Her chest rose up and down like the tides of an ocean. She had never been near one, but had heard about its vastness. If only she could drown in one now. Thoughts of her family worried her. Were they alright? Or did they escape without her?

"No, they won't ever."

They loved her too much to do that. Even the servants doted on her. She couldn't be the one left behind.

In that case, were they even alive?

A numbing pain spread at the back of her head. She avoided the oval mirror, refusing to admire herself like she did any other day. She didn't want to look at herself crying. It would be a cursed sight to behold.

"I-I need to go outside."

Unfortunately, it seemed that she was the only one alive. Opening the door, she stepped outside. Accidentally, her feet fell on the dead bodies of the guards. Their throats were slashed, and it looked that it was just one calculated blow that snatched their lives. She gulped and moved past bodies, careful to not step over them. Her poor heart hoped that they were still alive. At least they were some hours before. It would hurt them if she thumped over their bones.

Roshanak lifted her skirt up, not letting the blood taint the fabric. The corridor was as empty as a deserted island. She went to her parents' room, only to find it vacant too. The things inside the room were in place and no harm was done to the objects. However, she noticed the bedsheets creased too much and some hair, which she concluded to be her mother's, trail up to the door. It was a very revolting image that passed her mind. Who would dare to grab the queen by her hair?

She looked at the other rooms where her aunts lived. No one was to be found. Even the servants quarters were empty. It was deadly quiet all around.

"Is this the end of the world?" she whispered. A raven's call she heard. Omen. It was an omen.

An omen of destruction and evil.

Roshanak took a deep breath. "Maa? Baba?" she called. Several times she repeated the words. She called her aunts, even took the name of the ministers, and then of Kazu.

Her ears rang like drums. She had completely forgotten him while worrying about her family. Why, he was as precious as her Maa and Baba, and if God willed, he would be her only one in the future! He loved her dearly, and she loved him too. He used to bring her colourful stones secretly and tell her tales of his valour in war. How much she wished to bear him a son. It was her dream to be the wife of such a courageous man, and give him a son. A brave son, just like his father.

"Kazu?" she called. "Kazu, are you there?"

As if heard by the gods, Kazu came running out of nowhere. Roshanak gasped when she saw him. He was gravely wounded, with his right eye bleeding profusely. She ran towards him, opening her arms to hold his injured self.

Before he fell in her arms, an arrow pierced right through his body. He moaned, blood gushing out of his mouth. "Roshanak..." He took her name one last time before closing his eyes.

"Kazu?" She shook him. "Kazu?" She placed a hand near his nose. No, he wasn't breathing. She kept an ear over his chest. No, the heart had stopped.

He was dead. In her arms.

Roshanak wanted to scream, but before she could, a soldier came running towards her. He was dressed in that black and red attire and carried a bow. It was him who had killed Kazu. As much as anger coursed through her veins, Roshanak knew she was too weak and untrained to face this foe.

"Who are you?" the man asked.

"I-I think it sho-should be me who aa-asks this question," she stammered.

The man smirked. "I see, you are an inhabitant of the palace. From what it seems, you knew this dying man."

"He loved me."

"Oh, so he loved you? I am so sorry, sweetheart, but I have been instructed to kill my enemies."

"Why are we your enemies?"

"Because you didn't bow to us."

"And why should we bow?"

"Because our Lord is the greatest, and it is him who should be the sole ruler."

Roshanak knew by now that they were under attack and had definitely lost. She didn't know about any such enemy lurking near their territory in the recent times. But why would her father even inform her about things he thought better suited for a son?

The princess didn't notice the approaching soldier. When he was finally close, he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her with him.

"Leave me! My father will punish you!"

"Your father is probably dear to the god by now."

"No!" she protested. "He isn't. He can't!"

She was brought to the hall were once the women used to host celebrations and play games. Thrown to the ground, Roshanak raised up her head to find all the women she knew assembled here. Her eyes desperately searched for her mother. When Roshanak found her tear-soaked face, she ran to hug her.

"Maa!" She broke down and held onto her. "What has happened?"

Her mother was battered and bruised. She was a rebellious woman by nature, and maybe when she had refused to submit, the men hit her. "Where is Baba?"

"He is in talks with the enemy's king."

Roshanak saw that they were surrounded by many soldiers. "Who is this enemy?"

"I don't know his name. None of us do. Rumours go around that he is the Shah of Persia."

"Silence, women," one of the men said. "The hazarahpatish is coming."

The women hung their heads and cowered. Soon, a man dressed in a white chiton came, followed by several guards. He wore a golden diadem on his head. Roshanak only knew kings to wear this, not his second-in-command. This man must be powerful, she thought.

"Bow to the Mitra of the King, Hazarahpatish Hridayank."

The women knelt before the man.

"Rise," he said. His voice was musically deep, like the echo produced when a harp is struck. One could go on listening to him. Roshanak wondered what irony it was to own such a beautiful voice while being a harbinger of death. "I am the friend of the king, and come here with good news– he has pardoned your patriarch, Omkara."

Roshanak and her mother heaved a sigh of comfort.

"I want to speak to the wife of Omkara."

Roshanak's mother came forward. "I am his wife, Melissa."

His eyes widened when he saw her beaten state. "Who did this to you?"

It was an odd question. Roshanak and all the other women were surprised.

"Please do not mock us, revered one, for now we are under your mercy."

"I am not jesting, Melissa. I ask again, who did this to you?"

"The soldiers of your army."

"Will you be able to recognise them?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Are they present here at this moment? If yes, point to them now. It's my order."

Melissa lifted a quivering finger and showed the three faces who had tortured her. The men wore a disgruntled frown. "Hazarahpatish, she was being too irritable and didn't give in. We had to force her to come with us. She even raised a hand on our men."

"You know your king will not be pleased to know how you treated the wife of his enemy. She is now our property, and we don't treat women like this. She isn't your wife, and if truth be told, above you in status."

Roshanak wasn't shocked by the contradictory disrespect and reverence in his words. She had heard a lot of men talk like this. A woman, by birth, was below a man, and only by marriage or a close bond of blood to a man could she demand obedience from subjects.

"We are sorry, Hazarahpatish."

"I am excusing you all for now, but if the king asks me why is Melissa in this state, I will have to answer. I promise no protection to you all." He turned to her. "You will be attended to by my soldiers and we will send a doctor to heal you. Please, forgive the men for their impudence. Such callous behaviour won't be tolerated. Also, I expect you to serve us from now on. Although a truce has been reached, your husband is now under us."

Roshanak didn't understand if truces were supposed to look more like conquests. The way warriors thought was so different to the mindset of women. Maybe that's why women weren't warriors- they were too fragile and kind to navigate the cruel world.

"The king shall meet you all this evening. A celebration is going to be held. Melissa, I ask you to prepare the best women. They must dance and entertain the king tonight."

"It shall be done."

Hazarahpatish Hridayank didn't linger any longer and left the place. The soldiers got to work- washing the blood stains, disposing the corpses, and collecting the jewels from the clothes of the dead men.

They were reduced from royals to dancers in just a day. Roshanak didn't know if dying a hero's death was better or being alive as the puppets of an unknown king.

Her mother Melissa immediately summoned the best women present. Roshanak was among them too. Even though she was taught how to dance, never did she perform in front of the men. It was seen as something done by the lowly.

But in a world plagued by the weeds of war, ethics and rules changed every sunset.

word count: 2309 words

If you have loved the Song of Achilles, you will definitely love this book too!

What does the first chapter feel like? Did you like it?

What do you think is going to happen?

We meet two very crucial characters, Roshanak and Hridayank. Their names are quite pretty! Roshanak means a star, and Hridayank is a name I made on my own, which means To Embrace the Heart.

How do you perceive these two characters, I mean first impressions?

If you liked it, please do vote and comment and extend support ❤️