He stood and gestured to her to follow him in the stunned silence. Untying the ropes that had bound her, she rubbed at her wrists automatically and followed her Lord through a side door, sparing not a single glance towards the men in the room.

The world faded to shadow, as she followed him, the sole light illuminating her path appearing to be from his mortal raiment.

Suddenly, he stopped before a door, and turned to her. All without saying a word, he gestured to the door and she complied with his unspoken order.

She turned back a second later, a question on her lips, but there was nothing but the quickly fading light that gave way to darkness. He must have left her.

Lilavati turned again, fumbling through the room with her sense of touch alone, and once she came upon something that seemed like a bed, she sank against the frame with a soft thud. There was not a single light in the room, neither the light from SuryaDeva's radiance nor a burning flame.

Her raven tresses curled about her as she brought her knees to her head, curling within herself. Her mind wandered alone in the darkness, an expanse with no limits. But no matter how hard she tried, Lilavati could not avoid her thoughts turning to her latest misdeed.

Her breath hitched.

She had killed someone. Again.

She had deprived a wife of her husband, children of their father; his family of their only source of income and the man of his ability to live.

Her eyes were dry as she shut them, bringing her head to rest against her knees. Lilavati sent a quick prayer up to the Devas that the man may find his rest and healing, and another chance at a human life when she snatched away his current one so easily.

A tiny voice in the back of her head argued: You killed him because he was spouting the foulest words about your Lord. That is a crime that cannot be forgiven.

But it is not my fate to decide the fates of others. I am but a mere mortal. I have overstepped my boundaries.

The room which seemed heavily dark and oppressive just a moment ago, lightened just a bit as though in approval. She knew and understood very well that her sins were something heavy and that it would be beyond her current life to even begin to atone for them.

She simply sighed and buried her face deeper into her knees, her thoughts again wandering the countless universes.

~

Lilavati was startled awake by the light that flooded the room, her hand instinctively reaching for her dagger but then she belatedly realised that she had been stripped of all her weapons when she had been imprisoned.

The curtains were being drawn open, and women scurried across the room, in preparation for something. She wanted to stand up and ask questions—preferably with a dagger in her hand and one of the women with fearful eyes under her—but she remained still, as the fire that was her Lord pressed against her mind and into her memory.

She was alive only because he had spared her.

Again.

She could not defile his kindness so soon.

Lilavati then stood up, and all movement ceased. The handmaidens, she realised quite late, remained transfixed to their positions, the only movement in the room their nervous eyes darting to look at each other and her.

"What is going on?" she demanded, internally wincing at the way her voice ran dry.

"We beg your pardon, lady. We have been assigned to do your shringaara for tonight."

She blinked in confusion.

Shringaara? For tonight?

What really was going on here?

Without another word, they continued with their work, and she did not even attempt to defy them when two of the women came up to her with shaking hands and guided her to the bathing chamber. Burning at the edge of her consciousness was the effervescent fire of Vaasudeva Krishna, and she supposed he was keeping a watch on her to ensure she did nothing. She remained silent as she stripped off her clothes to enter into the large tub, and even when they washed her hair with caution, every movement taken with the uttermost consideration in fear of arousing her wrath.

Lilavati stared blankly at her reflection, her mind almost overwhelmed as she tried and tried desperately to reach the dark fire burning at the edge of her mind but failed with every attempt. She knew intellectually that her Lord's essence could not be touched or held within the palms of a mortal such as her, but with all that she had desired for just out of reach, she continued to try with all her strength.

The handmaidens seemed relatively surprised at her lack of any reaction when they continued with their work. They relaxed by degrees, though they maintained a cautious veneer around her.

Lilavati could barely register what the women were doing to her, and a distant part of her mind supposed that that was what his intentions were: to keep her distracted enough that she not attempt anything against them.

One of the women made a soft sound of satisfaction, and that was the snapping point. She blinked back into reality, the half-blinding light gone from her mind. She wanted to weep for the loss of contact with him, but then she looked at her reflection and forgot about it. A mirror was a rare oddity to her, something often spoken of in tales of rich merchants and kings.

The woman staring back at her in the mirror was not the one who had held a dagger to a man's throat, nor the vagrant who wandered all over the continent, drifting where her mind led her.

No, the woman staring back at her was fit to be a queen. A glorious and righteous Queen of any kingdom.

Her raven tresses had been braided into a long braid that swept past her back. Her garment was a sweeping red, touching the floor in swooping folds; red as roses, as the dying embers of a flame, red as the blood she had shed. Tiny semi-precious jewels were sewn into the borders of the saari, refracting brilliant light into her eyes, blinding, like the light surrounding her Lord's mortal raiment. At her throat and ears glimmered a necklace and earrings of a red precious stone effortlessly melded with gold that dropped like raindrops from a cloud. Kohl was carefully painted on her eyelashes and red henna danced various patterns on her hands.

Red.

Red was reflected in everything she was adorned with.

Behind her eyes flashed the spilling of a bright red liquid from the lips of an unnamed being whose life she had taken. A flash of a single drop of bright red, shaped rather unnaturally like tears, from her dagger.

Red.

The colour of blood, but also the colour of love and passion; war but joy.

A colour as conflicted in its meanings as she was.

She then instantly knew that every action that was to occur from henceforth would have some meaning or the other. She did not expect anything less from her beloved Lord.

The women took their leave as she continued to stare at her reflection.

"Wait," she called to the last of them.

The woman on the threshold hesitated, turning halfway.

"Why did you do this?"

Lilavati could clearly see the war on the woman's face: whether to tell her or not.

Before she could speak, however, the woman finally acquiesced.

"You are to be married to Dvarakadhisha, lady."

The woman then left without a glance back, not noticing how Lilavati staggered back in shock.

I am to be married?!

To Dvarakadhisha?

~

The shock had not quite left her by the time two more figures entered the room. She did not react as they approached her, tall but maternal in disposition.

Lilavati looked up, to see two women, robed in rich garments of the finest silks and festooned with simple jewels, one slightly paler and the other of a warmer complexion. The sweet scent of jasmine lingered in the room as they stopped in front of her. One of the women, despite her obvious royal lineage, seemed to hold an inkling of a fragile expression and eyes that were rimmed red at the corners for the weight of the tears she had shed.

"Get up, child."

The hardness in the voice of one of the women did not startle her, and she rose to her feet.

"The handmaidens have done well, as always. She looks well enough to be a bride of our lineage, not to speak of her deeds or character. They can draw such beauty even from such a..."

"Rohini," murmured the other woman, her almost frail frame shifting as she placed a hand on the other's.

It was then that Lilavati realised that these were the two wives of Vasudeva, RaajaMaata Devaki and Rohini.

"RaajaMaata..." her voice was soft but not without a pleading note.

"No one addressed you, child," snapped the mother of Balarama.

"Devaki, we have done our duty and looked at our child's to-be bride. I do not wish to stay here a moment further, for fear that I may lose my temper."

The mother of Balarama then immediately turned and left, without looking back once.

Devaki lingered just a moment, to look at Lilavati once again. Her lips firmed into a small smile that spoke of her love and trust in her youngest son. She then inclined her head a fraction towards Lilavati and then left to catch up with her co-wife.

Lilavati remained standing still, blinking at the strange occurrence.

She knew that her life henceforth was going to be only more difficult, once her marriage with her Lord had been sealed.

She closed her eyes.

Swami, what is this plan of yours?