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❁Maharani Avantika❁

Its been a month since I rode out of my kingdom.

A month of blood and dust and sleepless nights.
A month of cutting down robbers who knew nothing—men who hid in forests, men who ran camps, men who screamed when steel touched their skin. I dismantled their hideouts one by one. Burned their tents. Left warnings carved into trees.

None of them had information about my people.

That is what terrifies me.

Robbers usually keep innocents alive—insurance. They bargain. They demand gold, food, lodging. Fear has a pattern. Crime has rules.
But nothing like that happened in my kingdom.

People vanished.

No demands. No bodies. No messages.

I stayed in touch with my general through my pet bird—thin strips of cloth tied to its leg, ink barely dry before it flew. Each time I waited. Each time I hoped.

There was no word.

And hope... is a fragile thing. The people are losing it.

Especially because I was never supposed to sit on the throne in the first place.

I scoffed at the thought as I reined in Raksha before a dharamshala. A few elderly men sat near a fire outside, warming their hands, their eyes sharp with judgment.

I dismounted, tied Raksha to a pole, and walked inside.

The shelter was crowded. Prominent families. Traders, by the look of their clothes. Women wrapped in veils. Children clinging to their mothers. The smell of food and entitlement hung heavy in the air.

"Are these traders?" I asked the woman serving food.

She nodded. "From Anantapuram. On their way to Dharamani."

I walked further in.

"You can't sit with them," she said hesitantly.

I turned to her. "Why not?"

One of the men answered for her, wine staining his lips, eyes crawling over me.
"Because this place is for prominent traders. Not for some... ordinary woman."

His gaze dropped to my sword. He scoffed.

"Who are you?" he sneered.
"Think carrying a sword makes you special? Can you even lift that?"

I rolled my eyes.

Without sparing him another breath, I placed a pouch of gold coins on the plate the serving woman carried. The coins clinked—heavy, deliberate—then I walked past the man as if he were furniture and took a mat in the far corner.

Let them stare.
Staring costs nothing.

The women returned with food and thin mattresses, moving quietly, efficiently—used to being invisible.

"When are they leaving?" I asked.

"Tomorrow morning," she replied.

I nodded, loosened the scarf from my face, and began to eat.

I felt it then—the shift. The room noticing me.

People knew the victorious stories of Maharani Avantika, but no one knew her face. Legends survive because they remain faceless. I had learned long ago to use that as a weapon.

I scanned the room slowly.

Eyes followed me. Men. Women. Even behind the veil, I could sense their whispers crawling over my skin.

She's beautiful.
She has a sword.
So strange.
Women shouldn't carry swords.
She isn't even veiled.

The serving woman froze near me.
"W-who are you?" she asked.

I looked up. "What do I look like to you?"

Before she could answer—

"WHERE IS THE WOMAN WHO IS SUPPOSED TO SERVE US?" a man roared.
"She's taking too long! We're not paying a single penny!"

The room erupted in agreement.

I kept eating.

After I finished, I washed my hands and scanned the room one last time. The gazes hadn't softened. If anything, they sharpened.

"What kind of king rules this kingdom," I muttered, tying my scarf back over my face.

That night, I climbed onto the brick roof of the shelter house and kept watch until dawn. Sleep felt like a luxury I couldn't afford.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Morning broke over the shelter like a wound reopening.

People moved with practiced panic—men straddling horses, women tying down bundles, carriages creaking as they were hitched in a hurry. No one spoke loudly. Fear had trained them well.

I dropped from the roof.

My boots hit the ground hard enough to scatter birds and nerves alike.

"Did you just jump from the roof?" one of the elders snapped, hand flying to his chest.

"I need passage," I said calmly. "Wherever you're going."

He narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"

"A traveler. Looking for work." I tilted my head. "I used to be a royal guard. King Tanishka's daughter."

A lie—but a useful one.

"Royal guard?" He scoffed, loud and deliberate. "If women could do all that—"

"Why not?" a small voice cut in.

A little girl, no older than ten, stood near a cart wheel, chin raised in defiance. "Haven't you heard of Queen Avantika? If a woman can be a queen, why can't a woman be a bodyguard?"

The elder sneered. "Queen, huh? Then why are people from her kingdom disappearing? Maybe if the kingdom was in more capable hands—"

"Capable hands?" I stepped forward. "Like your king? Who spends his days marrying off princesses instead of feeding his people? Who bows only to prominent families and lets the rest rot?"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH, WOMAN, BEFORE I—"

Steel sang.

My sword kissed his throat, driving him backward until his spine hit a post. His breath stank of fear. Sweat rolled down his temple.

"What will you do?" I murmured. "Call your king here? Can't reason with a woman, so you threaten her. One mistake, and your pride never lets you step back."

I withdrew the blade.

He stood frozen, wiping his face with shaking hands.

"I'll pay," I said flatly. "Whatever you ask. Since money is the only thing that makes you people move. I just need passage."

carriages moved

Raksha hated carrying anyone but me.

Poor thing shifted restlessly as they loaded supplies. I let her go ahead with the riders in exchange for passage. She would circle back. She always did.

My gaze drifted—and landed on the little girl again. Still watching me.

I wiggled my brows.

She grinned. "Can you teach me to use a sword?"

Her mother hissed her name, panic sharp in her voice.

"I can," I said lightly. "But for that, you'd have to leave your family."

The mother went pale.

She yanked her daughter back, ordered the horses stopped, climbed down—and walked away.

I laughed, loud and unashamed, waving at the girl.

The girl waved back.

Her mother's panicked scolding followed them down the road.

I didn't blame her.

Fear, forced into women's hearts from birth, makes obedient slaves of us. But even when given a chance to rise, some women choose the chains. Those are the ones I can't forgive.

I leaned back as the carriage lurched forward.

Even when given a chance to rise, some women choose the cage.
And sometimes I think they are the ones who guard it the hardest.

I rolled my eyes and fixed my gaze on the road ahead as the carrier lurched forward again. The wheels groaned, wood protesting against stone, a familiar rhythm that usually kept me sharp. Tonight, it lulled me.

My eyelids grew heavy.

It has been a long time since I felt this... safe.
Too long.

i didn't  slept in three days ..

The carriage was well-built, cushioned. Comfortable in a way Raksha never was. Raksha was steel and vigilance and sleepless nights. This—this softness was dangerous.

I can't let my guard down like this.

I don't remember when sleep claimed me. One blink too long. One mistake.
I woke with a jolt as the carriage halted abruptly.

I sat up straight, hand already moving to my weapon.

Night had swallowed the forest. Trees stood like black sentinels, unmoving. Too still. Forests are never this quiet. Silence here meant hunger. Or death.

"Why did we stop?" I asked.

The carrier driver swallowed. "I think... something happened to the front carriage."

That was enough.

I jumped down, pulled the flame-stick from its hold, and walked ahead, boots crunching softly against dry leaves.

"All women and children—center carriage," I ordered.

No one moved.

I turned, my glare sharp enough to cut. "NOW."

They scrambled then, fear finally louder than pride.

I faced the men next. They stood watching me like spectators at a play—curious, doubtful, offended.

"You," I snapped. "Stay with them. Take the gold. Take everything precious. Do not move from the center."

One of them scoffed. "This is a waste of time. We should keep moving."

"No," I said flatly. "We shouldn't."

He sneered. "Why should we listen to you? Know your place, you—"

He never finished.

A blade punched through his chest from behind. He collapsed, shock frozen on his face.

Before the second man could scream, he lunged.
I swung.

Steel kissed flesh. His throat opened under my sword.

His body hit the ground with a dull thud. Wind rushed past me—and then I saw them.

Movement in the trees. Shadows peeling away from bark and branches.

"TAKE THE CARRIAGES TO THE CENTER!" I shouted.

This time, no one hesitated.

They dropped from the trees like rot from fruit. Men with wild eyes and dull weapons, grins sharpened by hunger.

"Well, well," their leader laughed. "Looks like the king is out of real soldiers. So desperate he sends a woman."

They laughed with him. Loud. Ugly. Confident.

I smiled.

"Maybe a woman is enough for amateurs like you."

They charged.

The way they bragged, I thought they might last ten seconds.
They didn't last three.

One swing—three bodies fell. Blood darkened the forest floor. Four more stumbled back, courage evaporating.

Their leader stared at me, eyes wide now.

"Surround her!" he screamed.

They tried.

I moved through them like they were already dead. I watched arrogance melt into terror as I cut his men down one by one. No mercy. No wasted motion.

When the last body dropped, he ran.

I sighed.

The dagger slid from my shoe into my palm. I threw it without looking.

It pinned him to a tree through the shoulder.

His scream split the silence. Music.

"Wow," I said lightly, pressing my blade to his throat. "The audacity to belittle a woman... and then cry like one."

I leaned closer, the edge biting into skin. "Tell me—why shouldn't I behead you right now?"

"P-please," he sobbed. "I'm sorry. I'll do anything—"

I laughed. I couldn't stop myself. "Does it seriously take this for you bastards to change?"

"I'm sorry," he whimpered again.

"What did you do to the traders of Trityapura?" I asked.

He shook his head frantically. "We haven't touched them!"

I pressed the sword harder against his throat.

His skin split under the steel. Just enough.

"I swear—!" he gasped. "I swear that area is filled with things more dangerous than us robbers. We wouldn't step there."

"Dangerous how?" I asked, voice flat.

"The robbers there—" his words tangled. His teeth chattered like bones in winter. "They aren't men. They don't just rob, they—"
He stopped. Like he'd seen hell and it had looked back.

"Tell me," I said.

"I've seen them kill," he whispered. "I couldn't risk going there. Or Chandrapura."

That was all.

I slit his throat.

The body collapsed before fear could finish leaving his eyes. I pulled my dagger out of his shoulder, wiped it clean on his clothes, and slid it back into my shoe. My hands didn't shake. They were too tired for that.

Chandrapura, then.
I'll try the king—if he's sane enough to listen, or brave enough to care.
I scoffed at my own hope.

When I turned, the traders were staring at me.

"Th-thank you—" one of them began.

I laughed softly. Sharp. Bitter.

"Tum sare ek jese ho," I said. (You are all the same.)
"Ab ek aurat ke peeche chupte hue sharm nahi aayi?" (Didn't you feel ashamed hiding behind a woman?)
"Jab apni jaan pe baat aati hai, tab balidan ke liye aurat hi nazar aati hai." (When lives are at stake, it's always a woman you offer up for sacrifice.)
"Devi ko poojte ho," I went on, my voice steady, eyes burning,
"par jab ek aurat kehti hai ki vo lad sakti hai, toh vo kamzor kyun?"
(You worship goddesses, but when a woman says she can fight, why is she suddenly weak?)

No one spoke.

"Meri baat yahan koi sunne ko tayaar nahi tha," I said quietly. (No one here wanted to hear me.)
"Ab kya keh rahe ho? Thank you?" (and what are you saiying now.. thank you?)
I shook my head.
"Apni beti ko bolne se rokna, jo vo karna chahti hai usse rokna—aur jab tak ye karte rahoge, na main tumhara sorry loongi, na tumhara thank you."
(Stop silencing your daughters. Stop stopping them from becoming who they want to be. Until you do, I want neither your apology nor your gratitude.)

I walked past them and climbed back into the carriage.

The road started moving again. Chains rattled. Wheels groaned. Silence returned—thick and uncomfortable followed with a morning golden sunlight.

A little while later, one of the traders approached me.

"There's another traveler," he said. "Asking for passage. We don't have space."

"So?" I raised a brow.

"So you can sit with the women in the front carriage. We'll sit here with him."

"No," I said simply.

"Why not?" He scowled.

"Because I paid you a hundred gold coins for a comfortable passage," I replied, calm as a drawn blade,"and I won't sit with women who don't value themselves."

His mouth twisted. "Then you'll have to share this carriage with that traveler."

I scoffed. "Since when did you people start caring about consent?"

"It's not me," he muttered. "We told him to sit with you. He insisted on asking if you were comfortable."

That made me pause.

I lifted an eyebrow. "That's new."

I nodded anyway.

I can protect myself.
If he tries anything—he dies.

I shifted closer to the wall of the carriage, gathering my things, making space. When he climbed in and sat across from me, I finally looked at him properly.

He looked... ordinary.
Light blue safi, plain dhoti. Face half-covered, like most travelers on dangerous roads.

But the sword at his side andThe hidden dagger sat where only a trained hand would place it didn't go unnoticed from me.

"You sure you're not uncomfortable?" he asked. "I can't believe they're making me sit with a woman."

I scoffed. "Is it such a disgrace for you?" I spat.

He blinked.

That's when I saw his eyes..

Gold.
Not brown. Not hazel. Gold—like sunlight on sharpened steel.

"I didn't mean it disrespectfully," he said carefully. "Usually women get—"

"I don't care," I cut in. "I can slit anyone's throat if they try anything."

He nodded.

I blinked

No argument?. No wounded pride?.

That... annoyed me.

I rolled my eyes and looked away, fixing my gaze on the road ahead. Dust rose like smoke. The horizon stretched thin and merciless.

But I could feel him watching me.

When I glanced back, he looked away—pretending to examine the carriage, the road, the air.

My lips twitched dispite myslef

He feels odd.

I've never seen eyes like that.

And as the forest swallowed us whole, something in my chest tightened—quiet, instinctive, dangerous.

I rested my hand on my blade.

I have to be careful.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Don't forget to Like and comment, my lovelies. Please forgive me for any grammatical or spelling mistakes—I'm a goddamn human being, and I'm also new to writing and stuff. I'll try to fix things if anything is wrong, okay?

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The next chapter will be about our beloved golden retriever king, so keep an eye out and follow!

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