ðªâ¨27 : Yet I'm the one who won!
Not sure why there's a glitch hope it's visible
Everyone Arrigatooo!
The book has reached 12K you know the drill vote-comment-share
Now enjoy the story I loved writing hope you too. Do express your thoughts.
------------
The courtroom, once a theater of impassioned arguments and legal jousting, now settled into a quieter rhythm-the rustle of paper, the scratch of pens, and the hushed murmur of ministers and writers came from one end of the room, At the long table, Anya and Varun, their faces etched with determination, led the proceedings.
On the other side, the doctors had entered with a different kind of authority. Clad in traditional attire, they moved with grace, their eyes keen and compassionate. Their purpose was not to argue legal points but to assess the king's well-being. His brow furrowed, lines etched by the weight of his responsibilities. The doctors approached, They checked his pulse, felt the rhythm of life within him.
Their whispered consultations held ancient wisdom-the balance of doshas, the flow of prana. As they comforted him, the courtroom walls seemed to soften. The rigid boundaries blurred and eased-.Finally, the doctors nodded, satisfied. They helped the king rise, supporting him as he walked toward the chambers. There, behind closed doors, they would continue their work-the herbs, the chants, the ancient rituals.
The ministers resumed their paperwork. Everyone settling to their original roles now the the threat had been diffused.
The palace corridors echoed with urgency-the shuffle of footsteps, the hushed conversations, and the occasional groans of wounded soldiers. The once pristine marble floors bore the weight of blood and sacrifice. Arjun and Aditya Singh, their faces etched with pain, lay on makeshift cots, their injuries tended to by skilled hands.
Nimit, the stoic commander, stood guard. Arjun's rebellion seemed to have no end and Nimit's resolve wavered. He clenched his fists, torn between duty and sympathy. The doctors worked methodically, their hands stained with antiseptic. They stitched wounds. Aditya Singh winced as they probed his shoulder.
Ivaan looked around at the environment, finding the calmness enjoyable In the Long hallway the soldiers-both of Virata and. Rana-awaited their turn. The Ayurvedic healers moved seamlessly between them, their touch gentle yet firm. They saw not enemies but wounded souls, their duty transcending borders. And then, amidst the sea of turmoil, he saw Princess Indu, Her sari, once vibrant, now bore smudges of dirt and blood. Her hair, usually immaculate, hung loose, tendrils framing her face. She moved with purpose, her gaze unwavering.
The wounded soldiers stirred, their pain momentarily forgotten. For in her presence, hope bloomed-a fragile flower in a war-torn garden. Ivaan, watched her with suprise she seemed to be placed in a completely odd location, her beautiful attire smudged and heavy followed her every move yet her grace defied the chaos. Her hands, worked with compassion, touched fevered foreheads. Her eyes, pools of empathy, met theirs
It was fascinating-the way she worked the bandages with expertise as she has been doing it for a long time , the way her lips curved in a half-smile when pain eased. Her beauty was not the polished allure of courtly ladies; it was raw, unyielding-a reflection of her spirit.And her disheveled state? It only heightened her allure. Stray tendrils clung to her cheek, and a smudge of dirt adorned her delicate face.
Ivaan smirked as he stepped toward her, Upon being close to her, he could see her hands stained with the aftermath of battle.
"Didn't think of you as a Kind person," Ivaan drawled, his voice a velvet blade. "Not a trait I associate with you, Princess. Especially towards my soliders"
Indu's lips tightened, but she didn't break her rhythm. The wounded soldier before her winced as she cleaned a gash on his forearm. Her touch was gentle, yet there was steel in her resolve. She was no stranger to pain, no stranger to sacrifice. And now, here she was-tending to *his* soldiers, the very ones who had clashed with hers in the entrance.
"You mistake generosity for necessity," Indu replied, her tone cool. "These men fought for their beliefs, just as you did. Blood spilled on both sides."
Ivaan leaned closer, the scent of Jasmine drifting off her reminding him of her regal background , she surely seemed knowledgeable as a healer, something rare seen in royalty "And yet, you stand here, stitching their wounds, is quite unusual after all wouldnt they be mere pawn of enemies for you?"
Her eyes flashed. " I never would look down on soliders who fight for anyone's behalf. Compassion knows no allegiance. It transcends borders."
He watched her fingers stiffen as she was reminded of the situation ,surely she wasn't someone who had the experience in being nonchalant to enemies pain. "And what of wrath? Does it also transcend?"
Indu's jaw clenched. "You dare question my motives?"
"I question everything about you," Ivaan murmured. "Your defiance, your actions, your decisio-"
"Enough," she snapped, finally meeting his gaze. "I am not here to entertain you, your warriors are hurt, please have some empathy and help in tending to the injured."
He smiled in suprise at her orders. "that's what the doctors are for, Princess. I tend to bring a lot of healers just for this purpose, so none of my soliders go unattended."
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she stood suspended at his thoughts- Ivaan's fingers brushed her cheek, removing the smudged dirt across her porcelain skin. She flinched at the touch but soon resumed to her previous work.
"Didnt know you were so hopeless.........,Cruel" Indu whispered, barely audible, Her inner thoughts spilled her eyes set on the bandages.
"Sorry what?" he said smilingly, even though it was crystal clear to him.
She leaned away from the solider to the next watching him follow behind her "What do you want, Prince Ivaan?"
He lowered, his voice a promise. "To unravel you, Princess. After all we should get to know each other more, wouldn't to say"
Her heartbeats fastened at his proclamation, she concluded it to be disgust "And what if I resist?"
"Then, I would try twice as hard, enough for both of us." He murmured not intending any of those, but teasing her was turning out to be fun,she definitely seemed annoyed.
Indu's eyes held challenge. But she decided ignoring him to be a better option right now, the soliders needed to be healed first, before their bickering. Indu moved to another one of the soliders, who lay his wounds seemed a little more terrifying.
Indu's fingers moved deftly, stitching up the soldier's wound with precision. The makeshift hospital was a chaotic symphony of groans, muttered curses, and the occasional stifled scream. The air smelled of antiseptic and desperation.
Ivaan remained rooted in place, a hint of irritation creasing his brow. His gaze remained fixed on Indu, who expertly ignored him, effectively extinguishing any amusement he had derived from this. The waiting game began, and he frowned, impatient for her acknowledgment.
"Princess Indu," he began, his voice a low rumble, as he saw her mixing different herbs and tonics, something similar to what Nimit used to do for his wounds but he wanted her response, Trying to probe, he said " and if you're trying to poison my soldiers-"
She didn't look up, her focus unyielding. "Right now, they're all just patients to me. I don't differentiate them merely because they serve you. Afterall It's not their fault." Her hands moved swiftly, tying off the last suture.
Ivaan's jaw clenched. "Knowing you were the only one who gave this wound, it's unsettling."
Indu finally glanced at him, her eyes flashing. "I only disarmed them because they were blocking my way. For your information, I've never killed anyone." She turned her attention back to the soldier, who winced as she adjusted the bandage. "Apologies," she murmured.
Ivaan stepped closer, his anger simmering a little. "It's the same for me. I only attack in defense, while I'm conquering. But still, you and your sister seem to harbour deep resentment." His tone was almost playful, with a dangerous edge beneath the words.
Indu straightened and stood her ground. "Wrong. You're trying to own others. People aren't supposed to be won; they're to be cared for and respected if you genuinely wish to keep them by your side."
Ivaan's lips curved into a dangerous smile. He leaned in, their faces mere inches apart. His eyes bore into hers, a silent challenge suffocating her as she was unclear of his intention "Yet, I'm the one who won-whether its the war or.............. .......you."
Indu's anger blazed,her eyes feirce, and without a second thought, she pushed the medical kit she'd been tending with into Ivaan's chest. He caught it with a stifled cough, surprise flickering across his features. The weight of the kit was insignificant compared to the tension between them.
"If you still harbor so much energy," she snapped, her voice a blade, "why don't you channel it toward your soldiers? They're the ones bleeding and in need of attention while you stand here."
Ivaan's eyes narrowed, looking at the kit in his hand "Perhaps, I should" he murmured, " but I prefer tending to wounds that cut deeper than flesh." he smiled widely with the devilish undertone.
Indu's pulse raced. She wanted to retort, to unleash her anger in a torrent of words. She stepped back, not wanting to break down her graceful image of a princess.
Indu's steps were determined, her anger a tempest that threatened to consume her. She had no intention of lingering in Ivaan's presence any longer. But just as she reached the threshold of escape, his hand shot out, startling her.
He caught her wrist, fingers wrapping around her delicate arms, where the glass bangles were supposed to be. The contact sent a jolt a surprise through her. She tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding, his strength unmatched.
"Princess Indu," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Wait. Let me follow the orders, starting with you."
She glared at him, defiance etching lines on her face. "Let go," she spat, her pulse racing. "I've had enough of your games."
But he didn't release her. Instead, he released her grip, urging her to stay. His touch was oddly gentle as he examined her palm and wrist. The wounds went unnoticed by her, A few rashes, a graze from the hilt of her sword and the broken glass bangles had scratched her wrist-nothing life-threatening, yet they stung like betrayal.
Ivaan retrieved the medical kit she had shoved at him earlier, lowering it to the nearby table. His movements were deliberate, focused. He laid out the tools-a bowl of haldi, a bundle of dried herbs, and strips of cloth for bandages. His fingers brushed hers as he worked, and she suppressed a shiver. How could a man who commanded armies with ruthless precision be so gentle while tending to her wounds?
He applied the haldi paste, its golden hue contrasting against her skin. The scent was earthy, comforting. She watched him, her anger warring with curiosity. What was he trying to prove here? was she an exception?
His brow furrowed as he attempted to tie the bandages on her wrist. It was a messy job, the cloth slipping through his fingers. But he persisted, a determined glint in his eyes. When he finally secured the knot, it was lopsided, and he stepped back, surveying his handiwork.
"There," he said, sounding oddly proud. "Not bad for a first attempt, don't you think?"
Indu's attention came back to the present, she suppressed the direction her thoughts went annoyance flared anew. "I feel bad for your soliders. You're terrible at this," she snapped. "Clearly, you've never done it before."
He chuckled, a low sound that seemed so pure and innocent, quite ashamed at the critisism "Perhaps," he admitted. "But I learn quickly."
She moved back , her palm still throbbing. "Don't expect any gratitude, for this" she warned. "I was startled and let you tend to my wounds. But don't think it changes anything."
He watched her, his gaze unreadable. "You fight not to be owned," he said softly, echoing her earlier words. "But sometimes, surrendering is the only way to survive."
She wrenched her hand free and walked away. But as she retreated, she couldn't shake the memory of his touch-the way he'd held her. Victory, it seemed, came in many forms, and perhaps this battle was far from over.
...........
No thoughts
I'm proud 𥲠for this one ð
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Man a bit disappointed why is Wattpad not ranking the book, at it's usual tags! Maybe it's the interaction lowering i believed with more updates the interaction should be more! Please Wattpad have mercy on this book! ð Y'all to show your affection through comments and votes.