Chapter 102: Family's demand
The palace of Mahishmati glowed faintly under the silver moonlight. Tall lamps lined the inner courtyard, their flames swaying gently with the late-night breeze. The day had been long, meetings in the Sabha, training sessions with the princes, discussions of justice and Dharma — Rudra had carried them all on his shoulders with ease. But now, the warrior, the king, the guru was only a son, a brother, and a grandson returning to his family for their nightly meal.
Inside the large dining hall, the scene was a portrait of warmth. A long wooden table carved from sandalwood stretched across the chamber. Golden plates and cups gleamed under the torchlight. The air carried the mouth-watering aroma of freshly prepared food — steaming rice, sabzi with ghee, thick dal, warm rotis stacked in silver baskets, and kheer simmering in clay pots.
Rudra entered, still wearing the plain white dhoti he often preferred at home. His eyes softened immediately. No matter how vast Mahishmati became, no matter how many people hailed him as their leader, here in this hall, he was just their Rudra.
His mother, Bela , was already seated, arranging food with the care of someone who had never once forgotten that her son, however powerful, was still her boy. His father, Suresh Raj Pratap, sat with his usual calm dignity, speaking little but always observing. At the head of the table, his grandfather Vijay Raj Singh, the silver-maned lion of the family, leaned on his staff, his eyes twinkling with wisdom and mischief. And then there was Ishita, Rudra's younger sister, who had just finished laughing at some story of their uncle and still had a playful sparkle in her eyes.
As Rudra sat down, Bela smiled and placed two hot rotis on his plate. "You've been working too much again," she said softly, her mother's eyes reading him like an open scroll. "Eat properly tonight."
Rudra smiled faintly. "Yes, Maa."
The family began their meal, each eating and talking lightly. Vijay Raj Singh spoke of his younger days, when he had once fought five wild boars with nothing but a spear. Ishita giggled and teased, "Dadaji, are you sure it was five boars? Or just one fat pig you saw in five directions?"
The whole table chuckled. Even Rudra allowed himself a laugh.
It was in such light-heartedness that Bela, who had been quietly watching her son, suddenly asked — as if it was the most natural question in the world:
"Rudra… when will you bring Anupriya to meet us?"
The spoon in Rudra's hand froze. The dal he was about to serve himself nearly spilled. For a moment, the room fell utterly silent.
He blinked, coughed slightly, and said, "Anupriya? I… I don't know anyone named Anupriya, Maa. Perhaps you're mistaken."
Bela's eyes, calm and knowing, did not waver. She simply looked at him — a look that had guided him since childhood, a look that told him there was no use in hiding.
Rudra avoided her gaze, pretending to focus on his plate. After a few seconds, he muttered softly, "Who told you about this…?"
That was when the sound came — a muffled chuckle, barely restrained. Rudra immediately turned his head, and there she was. Ishita. His sister. Sitting with her hands over her mouth, eyes dancing with mischief.
Rudra narrowed his eyes at her. "You…"
But Ishita, unfazed, stuck out her tongue playfully, then quickly turned her face away as if the roasted vegetables on her plate were suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world.
Rudra's gaze darted around the table, searching for help. But none came. His grandfather leaned back, stroking his beard with amusement. His father raised a brow but said nothing, waiting patiently. Even the servants nearby suppressed grins. Everyone wanted to see the girl who had managed to stir Rudra's guarded heart.
Defeated, Rudra sighed and glanced back at his mother. "Alright," he said at last, voice quieter now. "I will invite her… tomorrow evening."
Bela's face lit up instantly. Her smile was radiant, filled with both relief and happiness. "Good," she said warmly. Without a word more, she took two fresh rotis and placed them on his plate.
Rudra looked at the extra food, then at her smiling face. Despite himself, he chuckled. "Maa, you are bribing me with food?"
"Not bribing," Bela said firmly, though her eyes twinkled. "Rewarding."
Vijay Raj Singh suddenly boomed with laughter. "Ah, Rudra! The warrior who bends the fate of kingdoms cannot withstand his mother's questions. Tell me, grandson, is this not true strength — to be defeated by love?"
Suresh finally spoke, his voice calm but carrying weight. "Who is this girl, Rudra? What family does she belong to?"
Rudra hesitated, then answered carefully. "Her name is Anupriya. She is not from a royal house… but her heart is noble. She has stayed in Mahishmati for some time now. I have… guided her training, since she wished to walk the path of warriors like Ishita."
At this, Ishita smirked again. "Guided her training? Is that what we're calling it now?"
"Ishita," Rudra said warningly, though his ears grew slightly red.
Bela, however, ignored the teasing. "She wishes to be a warrior? Then she is already welcome in this home. For a woman who can fight beside her people is a blessing to the land. Tomorrow, bring her. I wish to meet the one who has captured my son's heart."
Rudra exhaled softly, his resistance finally breaking. His family's eyes — full of curiosity, joy, and warmth — surrounded him. For all the battles he had fought, this was one he had no desire to win.
As the meal continued, Ishita whispered across the table, "Don't worry, Bhaiya. I'll make sure Maa doesn't scare her away."
Rudra gave her a sharp look, but the corner of his lips curved into a small smile.
For the rest of the evening, laughter and teasing continued. Food was shared, stories told.