Diya POV

The royal embroidery room of Vijaygarh, once a place reserved for heavy silks and suffocating zardozi, had transformed into my personal sanctuary over the last few days. Just as Veer had promised, the royal tailors stood at my disposal, their needles waiting for my direction. There were no boundaries, no rules, and absolutely no ancient expectations dictating my vision.

I had spent hours sketching, bringing pieces of my modern world into this 12th-century reality. For my daily attire, I designed a series of beautiful, ankle-length skirts. I had them stitched with multiple flowing steps and soft, cascading frills that swayed gracefully with every step I took—light, unburdened, and exactly the way I wanted. And to replace the heavy golden crown that used to give me headaches, I designed a delicate, beautiful tiara. It was minimalist, elegant, and sat upon my head like a gentle promise of leadership rather than a physical burden. Honestly, I found the utmost joy in designing these clothes; for the first time since my arrival, I felt like I was completely myself again.

"You really did turn this palace upside down, didn't you?" a warm, teasing voice broke through my thoughts.

I turned to see Roohi walking into the pavilion. She looked absolutely radiant, a beautiful glowing aura surrounding her as a newlywed bride. I smiled mischievously and pulled her over to the sketches.

"I'm not the only one changing things around here, Roohi," I grinned, nudging her side. "I've already requested the tailors to wait for you. You are choosing your attire next. Come on, formulate a few dresses for yourself!"

Roohi laughed, a soft blush coating her cheeks, but she didn't argue. With a pencil in hand, she quickly jotted down a few practical yet elegant designs for her medical classes—dresses that would allow her to move freely while maintaining her comfort.

As the tailors took the sketches away, Roohi turned to me, her expression softening into one of deep admiration. "You know, Diya... I am genuinely impressed with the way Maharaj Veer went so far out of his way for you. To completely disregard the royal decorum of this century just to make sure you feel at home? That takes an incredible amount of love."

A soft, proud smile touched my lips as I looked out at the palace gardens. "I know, Roohi," I acknowledged softly, my voice thick with emotion. "I recognize it every single day, and I value him more than words can say. He stands between me and a whole century of judgment without a second thought."

Author POV

While joy echoed in the Queen's pavilion, a quiet storm was brewing in the older wings of the palace.

Rajmata Leelavathi sat in her chamber, listening as the hushed whispers of the palace maids finally reached her ears. The news of how the strict royal decorum of Vijaygarh had been compromised for the new Queen spread like wildfire. Leelavathi was a matriarch of formidable strength; she had been deeply impressed by Diya when the young girl had boldly stood up and abolished the cruel custom of Sati. Yet, at her core, Leelavathi was still a woman grown up in a patriarchal environment. Her mind was deeply rooted in the heavy, unyielding soil of patriarchy and ancient tradition.

To her, a Queen in untraditional clothing and a simple tiara felt like an insult to the ancestors. However, she held her tongue. She knew the fierce, unyielding nature of her grandson, Maharaja Veerendra, and she had no desire to offend him or cause a rift in the royal family.

But as the days rolled into weeks, the Rajmata's health began to rapidly deteriorate. A severe, exhausting seasonal fever took hold of her elderly body, confining her to her bed.

Hearing of her illness, Diya immediately rushed to her service. When she entered the dimly lit royal chambers, Roohi was already present, calmly checking the Rajmata's pulse and mixing herbal remedies near the bedside.

The moment Diya stepped forward, Leelavathi's eyes tightened. She looked at Diya's attire—the light, frilled ankle-length skirt and the simple silver tiara resting casually on her untamed hair. A wave of profound displeasure washed over the elderly woman's face, and her behavior turned instantly cold and distant.

The warmth Diya offered was met with stony silence. The atmosphere in the room grew heavy, and both Roohi and Diya immediately sensed the unspoken tension vibrating through the air.

Unable to bear the coldness, Diya knelt beside the bed and spoke gently, "Rajmata... is something bothering you? Please tell me."

Leelavathi exhaled a sharp, weak breath, turning her sharp gaze directly onto Diya.

"Veer has gone entirely out of his way for you, Diya," Leelavathi spoke, her voice frail but laced with bitter authority. "He has defied all the ancient rajmahal rules, risked the judgment of his court, and given you every comfort and choice your heart desires. And yet, after this much time, we are still deprived of the chirag of this royal lineage. Vijaygarh needs its Crown Prince. It is high time you fulfill your duty to this throne."

Diya POV

The words hit me like a physical blow.

The usual, fiery Diya from the 21st century would have snapped back immediately. My instincts screamed at me to tell her right then and there that these were deeply personal affairs between a husband and a wife, that a marriage was not a transaction for an heir, and that absolutely no one had the right to interfere in our private lives.

But as I looked at her pale, sweating face and her trembling, frail hands, I forced myself to swallow the bitter words. She was sick. She was a product of an entirely different world. For Veer's sake, and out of respect for her deteriorating health, I tightly controlled my temper, wrapping my fingers into a tight fist against my lap.

But while I chose silence, Roohi did not.

Stepping forward with an absolute, calm dignity that only a healer possessed, Roohi adjusted the damp cloth on Rajmata's forehead. She didn't raise her voice; instead, she spoke with a subtle, unshakeable serenity that completely disarmed the room.

"Rajmata," Roohi said softly, her voice like a soothing balm. "A lineage is defined by the love and values passed down, not just by gender. To believe that only a boy child can bring light to a kingdom caters to a very narrow wish. A girl child can be an equal blessing, an equal protector, and a profound joy for any couple. Maharani Diya herself is proof of how a woman can alter the destiny of a kingdom."

Leelavathi looked at Roohi, stunned by the quiet confidence of the young physician. She opened her mouth to argue, but looking into Roohi's peaceful, steady eyes, she simply let out a weary sigh and acknowledged her words with a slow nod. Yet, the deep, heavy sadness remained etched onto the old woman's face as she closed her eyes, turning away.

Author POV

Leaving the Rajmata to rest, Diya walked out onto the lonely palace corridor, completely lost in deep, swirling thoughts.

Every modern fiber of her being resented the idea of an elder interfering in her marital life, demanding a child as if it were a royal mandate. It irritated her, clashing violently with her values.

Yet, as she walked past the grand courtyard and looked toward the distant weapon training grounds where Veer was currently commanding his men, a strange, tender realization washed over her.

She thought of the absolute freedom Veer had been providing her and handed her. She thought of how he stood up to his ministers, how he brought girls education, and how he looked at her new, unconventional clothes with nothing but pure adoration. He always put her first. He placed her comfort, her identity, and her happiness far above his own royal reputation and the heavy expectations of his era. He protected her from the world, demanding nothing in return but her love.

For the first time since she had crossed the boundaries of time, the defensive walls around Diya's heart shifted. The anger toward Rajmata began to dissolve into a profound, overwhelming wave of love for her husband. Veer had given up the rules of his world for her.

And as she stood bathed in the warm afternoon sun, a quiet, monumental change of thought took root in her soul. Maybe a family with Veer wasn't a historical obligation. Maybe, just maybe, it was the beautiful future.

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