In the quiet of a shaded alley near a fountain, Surya stopped. His hands came to rest lightly on Advika's shoulders, grounding her.

"Princess..." His voice was low, careful, the way one might speak to someone waking from a nightmare. "What happened back there? Why did that dagger frighten you?"

Advika blinked, as if snapping out of a fog. Her lips parted, but no words came at first. She looked away, swallowing hard. "I... I didn't expect to see something like that." Her voice was hoarse. "It reminded me of... something I once dreamt. It looked exactly like... never mind."

Surya tilted his head slightly, concern etched into every line of his face. "A nightmare?"

She nodded slowly. "Yes. One I can't seem to forget."

Silence stretched between them.

"I'm sorry," she added, her voice steadier now. "It was just a silly reaction. You must think I'm being dramatic."

"I think," he said gently, brushing a stray curl behind her ear, "that you're entitled to feel whatever you feel. And I think someone once hurt you... or frightened you."

She met his eyes, startled.

"I won't ask you to tell me now," he continued. "But when you're ready, I'll listen."

Advika's throat tightened. She gave a small nod, and for a moment, she let herself lean just slightly into the warmth of his presence.

Surya's hand lingered for a moment longer on her shoulder before she gently stepped back, trying to compose herself.

Then, with a small breath, she attempted to lighten the mood. "Your Majesty, let's forget about all that for now. I'm sorry... I panicked when I saw that dagger. I didn't mean to ruin our outing."

Surya frowned. "It's not something to brush off so lightly," he said, his voice soft but firm, a hint of frustration creeping in. "If something has scared you that deeply..."

"Oh my! Look at those fabrics! How exquisite!" Advika suddenly gasped, eyes widening as she spotted a vibrant fabric stall across the bazaar.

Surya blinked. "Wait... what?"

Before he could finish that thought, she was gone.... rushing toward the stall like a child spotting candy, all traces of fear evaporating in a swirl of silks and color.

Surya remained rooted to the spot for a second, visibly stunned. "Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath, running a hand down his face. With a resigned sigh, he motioned to the guards and maids to keep alert and strode after her.

When he reached the stall, he found her already elbow-deep in a pile of fabrics, animatedly discussing textures and embroidery with the vendor.

She looked up just then, noticing his presence, and flashed him a bright smile. "Come look at this one!"

Her eyes sparkled as she held up a navy-blue fabric embroidered with silver threads. Surya raised a brow in amusement as she gently ran her fingers over the cloth, her expression thoughtful.

"This would make a perfect sherwani," she murmured, mostly to herself.

He was about to comment, but before he could utter a word, she suddenly turned and draped the fabric over his shoulder like a living mannequin.

Surya stiffened. "Princess... what exactly are you doing?" he asked, half amused, half alarmed.

Advika looked up at him with absolute innocence and determination. "The royal feast is in two days, and I want to make something special for you. I hope you don't mind."

One of Saanvi's maids, who had been trying very hard not to interfere, couldn't help blurting out, "Princess, the tailors can do that. You don't need to..."

Advika waved her off without even turning. "No. My husband will wear something made by me."

Surya opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "Your... husband?" he repeated, somewhat dazed, as she bent down to retrieve a measuring tape from the vendor.

"Not yet," she said sweetly, "but close enough to count, no?" She gave him a wink that nearly made him forget how to breathe.

Before he could process further, she was already measuring his shoulders. In the middle of the bazaar. In full public view.

The guards gawked. Passersby whispered.

Surya's head whipped around with the kind of glare that could make warriors weep. Immediately, the royal guards sprang into action, forming a protective circle around the couple to shield the royal measuring operation from curious eyes.

"Princess," Surya hissed under his breath, glancing down at her as she stretched the measuring tape across his chest, "Is this absolutely necessary to do here?"

"Absolutely," she replied without missing a beat. "I need your real measurements, not whatever guesswork the tailors use based on your ceremonial armor."

"I wear other clothes, you know."

"None of which fit quite the way I want this one to," she said, eyes gleaming.

Surya gave a strangled sigh, but didn't protest again.

Once she'd gathered all the necessary measurements, Advika paid for the navy-blue fabric with a satisfied nod and promptly selected a matching fabric for her lehenga.

But she wasn't done yet.

With the enthusiasm of a woman on a mission, she dragged Surya to the next stall to browse embroidery threads, lace, mirror-work embellishments, and pearls.

Surya followed behind like a good royal escort, hands clasped behind his back, his expression somewhere between bemused and enchanted.

She moved from stall to stall, animated and lively, and for the first time since the incident with the dagger, she seemed... at peace.

And though Surya still didn't have any answers about her fear, he realized, quite suddenly, that he'd rather see her like this than push her too soon.

He watched her hold two laces up to the light, debating which shimmered better. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Unpredictable. Stubborn. Sweet.

And, he admitted privately, a complete whirlwind.

But somehow, that whirlwind had managed to pull him in.

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It was past midnight, and the palace lay cloaked in a hushed stillness. Moonlight spilled through the southern windows of the royal guest chamber, casting silvery patterns across the marble floor. King Surya Aditya lay awake in his grand bed, eyes open, lost in thought.

A gentle breeze stirred the embroidered curtains, carrying with it the delicate scent of night-blooming jasmine. It was calming, almost enchanting but not enough to quiet the unrest in his chest.

No matter how many times he closed his eyes, the memory returned. The look of pure terror in Saanvi's eyes when she saw that dagger.

What kind of darkness had touched her life so deeply that even the glint of a crystal blade could unravel her so completely?

He sighed, the sound low and heavy. His hand ran through his tousled hair, frustration flickering in his features. The thought of her lingered like a song he couldn't shake off; the same girl who had, just hours ago, been glowing with excitement as she picked out fabrics to sew a sherwani for him with her own hands.

How could someone switch so quickly between such joy and such fear?

He sat up slowly, the silk sheets pooling around his waist. A strange ache settled in his chest; foreign and persistent. It wasn't just curiosity anymore. It was something deeper. Something that tugged at him with invisible strings.

A part of him feared that if he looked away too long, she might disappear, snatched away by ghosts only she could see.

And so, before reason could talk him out of it, he rose from his bed. He reached for a shawl, loosely draping it over his bare shoulders, then stepped quietly into the corridor, his footsteps muffled against the cool stone.

He didn't ask for directions. He didn't need them. His feet moved with a will of their own, as if his heart had memorized the path to her chambers long before his mind caught up.

/. /

Advika sat cross-legged on the floor of her chamber, her hands skillfully working on the gorgeous sherwani she was making for Surya. Dressed in a simple baby pink lehenga, she looked completely immersed in her craft, her fingers expertly cutting and stitching the fabric with precision. Her long hair was loosely braided, and her dupatta had been discarded somewhere on her bed, forgotten in her focus.

Saanvi's ghost form floated around the room, handing her little knickknacks whenever needed. Her eyes sparkled with admiration as she observed Advika's dexterity.

"You are incredibly talented, Advika! I had no idea how many techniques go into making a sherwani. The way you're cutting and joining the fabric to give it the perfect shape—it's mesmerizing! I'm in awe," Saanvi exclaimed, grinning widely.

Advika chuckled softly. "Thank you. I love designing outfits with unique styles. Being a Fashion designer has been my dream since childhood. Fortunately, my family supported me. Otherwise, it would have been a tough road to walk. Most middle-class families don't encourage such dreams, you know."

Saanvi tilted her head curiously. "Your parents must love you a lot, huh?"

"They do." Advika smiled, her expression softening. "I'm the younger one. My brother, Yash is two years older and an architect. My father's a government employee, and my mom's a homemaker. Not many daughters are born in my family. I was the first in three generations, so I was pampered by everyone." She giggled. "But now, my uncle's wife recently had a baby girl... finally, someone to share the spotlight with."

Saanvi hesitated. "Do your uncles love you too?"

Advika paused, lowering the fabric. Her voice softened. "All four of them. I was their little princess. I didn't realize how lucky I was... until I met you, and learned what you've been through."

Saanvi's smile trembled, but it stayed. "It's comforting... knowing I'll have a good life in my second chance."

Advika offered her a smile in response.

/. /

The palace corridors were eerily quiet at this hour, the soft glow of lanterns casting long shadows on the marble floors. Wrapped in a shawl, King Surya Aditya moved soundlessly toward Princess Saanvi's royal chamber.

The view that greeted Surya made him sigh in relief. The large room was bathed in the soft glow of the moon and large fire torches. A pleasant night breeze carried the faint scent of jasmine, rustling the curtains ever so slightly. Inside, Advika sat cross-legged on the floor, completely absorbed in stitching Surya's sherwani.

Stray strands of hair fell around her face, her pink lehenga slightly crumpled from long hours of work, and her dupatta lay forgotten somewhere on the bed. She looked like an adorable mess, utterly unaware of the pair of warm brown eyes watching her from the doorway.

King Surya Aditya leaned against the frame, a slow smile tugging at his lips. She looked so different from the poised princess he had met before. Her usual grace replaced by an endearing focus, her small hands working meticulously, her brows furrowed in concentration. Suddenly, as if sensing his presence, Advika finally looked up.

Her breath hitched.

"Y-Your Majesty?" she stammered, eyes widening as she hurriedly got on her feet and started patting down her messy braid, her face heating up. And then she realized she wasn't wearing her dupatta! Her bare midriff was completely exposed to his gaze. Mortified, she scrambled to find it, but before she could even move, Surya had already stepped forward.

A chuckle escaped his lips as he scanned the room, easily spotting the sheer fabric tossed over her bed. He picked it up, took a step closer, and ever so gently draped it over her head.

"You forgot this, Princess," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

Advika swallowed hard, her cheeks turning the shade of a blooming rose. "I-I was just working... I didn't expect anyone to..."

"You look beautiful."

Her words faltered as she met his gaze, deep and steady. His smile was teasing, yet his eyes held something far softer, something that sent her heart fluttering wildly in her chest.

Clearing his throat, Surya took her hand and pulled her towards the open window. He sat leaned against the window, his attention drifting towards the moon outside the open window. "The night is peaceful," he mused. "Shall we enjoy it together?"

Still flustered, Advika nodded, leaned against the other side of the window. The two stood side by side, gazing at the moonlit sky, the cool night air wrapping around them like a gentle embrace.

After a moment, Surya spoke again, his voice rich and poetic.

"Chaand bhi teri chamak se jalta hai,

Kyunki andhere mein bhi tu roshni bikherti hai.

Taare aasmaan se rahasya kehte hain,

Par teri aankhon ki mithaas koi nahi paa sakta."

[The moon envies your glow,
For even in the darkness, you shine.
Stars whisper secrets to the sky,
Yet none could match the melody in your eyes.]

Advika turned to him in surprise, her lips parting slightly. "You... you compose poetry?"

"Only for the one who inspires me," he replied smoothly, casting her a playful glance.

Her heart nearly melted. "That was... beautiful," she admitted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her shyness momentarily forgotten. Advika tilted her head, a playful glint in her eyes as she teased, "So, did Your Majesty sneak into my chambers in the middle of the night just to recite poetry for me?"

Surya let out a soft chuckle, the rich timbre of his voice sending shivers down her spine. Then, without warning, he took a step closer, his warm presence wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. Advika's breath hitched, her heart drumming wildly in her chest as anticipation curled in her stomach.

Leaning in ever so slightly, he murmured, "I also came to compare the moon in the sky with the moon before me... I wanted to see which one shines brighter."

The gentle words, laced with an unmistakable tenderness, sent a rush of warmth to Advika's cheeks. A soft blush painted her skin, and despite herself, she lowered her gaze with a shy smile.

Surya watched her, his eyes darkening as they flickered to her slightly parted lips. A sudden wave of thirst coiled in his throat, making him swallow hard. It was dangerous; this moment, this closeness. If he stayed any longer, he feared he might cross boundaries that neither of them were ready for.

"I should leave," he rasped, his voice huskier than he intended.

Advika hummed in response, her fingers lightly playing with the edge of her dupatta, as if reluctant to break the spell between them.

Surya exhaled, steadying himself. "You should rest too, Princess. It's far too late to keep working."

Advika pouted slightly. "But it's almost done," she protested.

His lips curved into a knowing smile. "Finish it if you must, but promise me you'll rest after."

She hesitated, then nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I promise."

As he made his way to the door, he glanced back one last time, his expression unreadable. "Goodnight, my moonlight."

Advika sat there, her hands clutching at the fabric of her dupatta, her face burning. The moon continued to shine outside, but for the first time, she felt as if her own heart was glowing even brighter.

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Next morning.

King Raghunath Rathore stood in the palace corridor, his gaze fixed on the training grounds below. The rhythmic clang of swords echoed through the warm morning air as his only daughter, the light of his life, Princess Saanvi, sparred with none other than her betrothed, King Surya Aditya. The young monarch moved with effortless grace, his blade meeting hers in a swift, controlled motion, while Saanvi mirrored his movements with determination burning in her eyes.

A pleased smile spread across King Raghunath's face. It warmed his heart to see his daughter bonding so effortlessly with the man who would soon be her husband. If anything, this reassured him that Saanvi's marriage would not only be politically strong but filled with companionship and mutual respect.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. His younger brother, Home Minister Arindam Rathore, strode toward him, his sharp gaze immediately locking onto the scene below. His lips pressed into a thin line as he observed the princess, clad in a simple training attire, her forehead glistening with sweat, her hair slightly undone from the intensity of the fight.

"Your Majesty, if you don't mind, may I speak freely?" Arindam asked, his tone carefully measured.

King Raghunath turned toward him, still smiling. "Of course, Arindam. What is it?"

Arindam exhaled, folding his arms. "I do not think it was wise to allow Princess Saanvi to train so openly, especially with King Surya present in Rajmanya. What must he be thinking? That she's too unladylike to be a proper queen?" His voice carried a hint of disdain.

His disapproval lingered in the air like unwelcome smoke.

"She's our kingdom's jewel," he continued. "Renowned for her beauty and gentle heart... and yet here she is, dirtied with sweat, hair disheveled, running around like a common soldier. This isn't how a future queen should appear before her husband-to-be. What if King Surya finds it... unbecoming?"

King Raghunath's smile faded slightly as he considered his brother's words. Arindam had a point; most men of Surya's stature would expect their brides to be delicate, refined, and poised. He exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing in contemplation.

"You have raise a valid concern, brother," the king admitted after a moment. "Perhaps I should speak with King Surya directly to clear any misunderstandings he might have."

Arindam scoffed lightly, shaking his head. "Rather than speaking to him, wouldn't it be wiser to simply forbid Saanvi from engaging in such manly activities? If she continues like this, it could damage her image as a princess."

King Raghunath said nothing, his gaze returning to the scene below. Unlike his brother, he saw something far more telling, something Arindam had completely missed.

Surya wasn't just indulging the princess; he was enthralled by her.

The way his eyes gleamed with admiration as he guided Saanvi through the steps, the way he encouraged her, laughing softly when she missed a block but praising her when she corrected herself; it was evident. King Surya did not mind his bride wielding a sword. If anything, he was proud of her strength.

A knowing smile tugged at Raghunath's lips. "No, brother," he said finally. "I believe the king is seeing exactly what he needs to see."

And he watched Surya lightly tap the tip of Saanvi's nose with his training sword, earning a surprised gasp followed by laughter.

Arindam may have viewed this as improper, but Raghunath saw something else; a bond forming, a rare understanding between equals.

So, he knew he had nothing to fear.

/. /

/. /

Later that day, both kings sat within the grandeur of the royal council chamber, where heavy velvet drapes muted the outside world and the warm glow of evening lamps danced across the polished mahogany table. Their discussion had spanned everything from political alliances to military strategies, but now the tone had softened, the tension gradually giving way to quiet ease.

King Raghunath glanced at the younger monarch seated across from him, then cleared his throat gently. "King Surya, there's a matter I feel obliged to bring up... something our dear Home Minister raised earlier today."

Surya, who had been sipping his spiced tea, looked up with quiet curiosity. "Concerns? Please, go on, Your Majesty."

Raghunath exhaled slowly, choosing his words with care. "When you arrived in Rajmanya, I imagine you might have expected to be greeted by a bride who exemplifies delicate refinement; a softly spoken, traditionally graceful princess. Instead, due to my indulgence, you found her on the training grounds, clad in simple garb, wielding swords and arrows... hardly the image of a demure queen-to-be."

His voice grew gentler. "But I assure you, it was never meant as a challenge to decorum. Saanvi simply wished to spend time with her brother. Rather than disrupt his training, she chose to join him. It was an innocent desire... a sister's love, nothing more."

Surya listened in silence, his expression unreadable, save for the faint tug of a smile threatening the corners of his lips. When Raghunath finished, Surya set down his cup and leaned forward, his tone calm yet sincere.

"Your Majesty, there is no need for apologies or explanations. In fact, Crown Prince Devansh had already mentioned this to me on my first day here. And to be perfectly honest..." he paused, allowing his words to land, "I found it quite admirable."

Raghunath blinked, surprised. "You did?"

Surya's smile grew. "Yes. A queen need not be confined to embroidery and etiquette alone. Grace and strength are not opposites; they can coexist beautifully. Watching the princess take command of a blade only deepened my admiration for her. Her courage, her determination... it speaks volumes of her character."

He tilted his head thoughtfully. "You may inform the Home Minister that he need not lose sleep over this. I find no fault in her spirit. On the contrary, I consider it a gift."

A breath of relief escaped Raghunath, the tension melting from his shoulders. In that moment, more than any political promise or military alliance, it was this quiet understanding between men, between father and future son-in-law, that truly mattered.

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Next Morning.
The day of the grand feast.

"Yes!" Advika exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with exhilaration. She had finally completed not only King Surya's sherwani but also a matching lehenga for herself; every stitch carefully sewn, every detail brimming with devotion.

Across the room, Saanvi's maids {Asha, Pooja, and Jyoti} watched in awe as she gently laid out the garments, the rich embroidery catching the golden rays of sunlight streaming through the window.

"Your Highness, this is incredible!" Asha breathed, her eyes wide with admiration. "When did you learn to do this?"

Before Advika could answer, Pooja scoffed and gave Asha a playful smack on the back of her head. "What kind of question is that? Our princess was taught all the fine arts from a young age! She was sewing by the time she was ten years old."

Jyoti laughed. "Pooja, don't be rude! Asha's only been in service for five years. How would she know what Her Highness did before that?"

Asha rubbed the back of her head, pouting. "Exactly what I was trying to say... no need to hit me."

Advika let out a soft laugh. "Alright, enough. I won't have my maids squabbling like children. Go prepare my bath. I'd like to deliver this to His Majesty myself."

The three exchanged amused looks before bowing. "Yes, Your Highness."

As they hurried off, Advika remained alone in the quiet, sunlit chamber. She trailed her fingers across the intricate embroidery on the sherwani, her thoughts wandering far from thread and fabric.

From the doorway came a familiar voice. "What's with that dreamy look you've got there, Adu?"

Advika turned, startled but smiling, as Nusrat stepped into the room with a curious look on her face. Dressed in a blush pink anarkali that the royal tailor had made for her, Nusrat's eyes were sharp, far too sharp to miss what was going on.

"You've been working on this for hours," she added, walking closer. "But it's not just the work, is it? You're glowing like someone who's not just proud... but something more. Like someone in love."

Advika's smile faltered, then softened into something far more vulnerable. "I think... I already am," she whispered.

Nusrat's smile faded as she sat beside her, listening quietly.

Advika looked down at the sherwani, her fingertips lingering on its edges. "He makes me feel calm. Safe. When he smiles at me, I feel seen... like I'm not just some misplaced visitor from another time, but someone who belongs."

There was silence for a moment before Nusrat spoke, her voice low. "Advika... you know I care about you. Which is why I need to say this." She met her friend's eyes. "You're not from here. You don't even know how long you'll be in this time. What happens if.. no, when you have to leave? Have you thought about that?"

Advika flinched, her expression clouding over. "I have," she admitted. "Every night when I'm away from him. But I can't help it, Nusrat. This feeling... it's too real to ignore. Whenever I'm with him, I forget everything else."

Nusrat placed a hand over hers. "I'm not saying you shouldn't feel. I'm saying... don't lose yourself in a love that might end with you waking up in another world, with no way to come back. What then?"

Tears welled up in Advika's eyes, but she smiled through them. "Then I'll carry it with me. Even if I return to my world tomorrow, I'd rather have felt this once in my life than never at all." Her voice trembled as she added, "Because no one will ever make me feel the way he does. And I don't want to regret never allowing myself to love him... just because I was afraid of the end."

Nusrat's throat tightened at the raw emotion in her friend's voice. She knew her words had struck home. And she also knew... nothing would stop what had already begun.

So instead of arguing, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead gently to Advika's. "Then love him fully," she whispered. "But promise me... you'll be strong enough to survive if this ends the way we fear."

Advika nodded slowly, and for a moment, they sat there in silence—two women from the same world, whose friendship had defied the very laws of time. Not even centuries could come between them; if one crossed time, the other would follow.

/. /

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A/N::: Advika is in love. And we can already guess from Surya's actions that so is he. How will these two deal with their emotions when fate separates them?

Please vote and comment.