#to be pranked by god is truly the highest honour

[deliriousequanimity]

First Interaction with Hermes

(using a coinflip to determine answers, heads = yes, tails = no)

Me: Uh...should I be afraid of you...?

Hermes: *serious* Yes.

Me: *nervous* Wait, what- really?

Hermes: Haha, no! *laughs*

Me: *realizing I have been pranked by god*

[unicornbitchface]

Raat ki Rani

Pairing: Henry x OFC

Summary: The plot moves ahead. 

No warnings yet.

Beta’d by the lovely @madbaddic7ed​ !

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Chapter 2

That’s it. 

She was so over it. 

How was it even allowed? 

There had to be some decorum, some sanctity to the institution. Someone had to make it right, and it will have to be her. Enough was enough. 

Bursting through the carved door of the zenana mahal, her eyes searched for the culprit. Today she would make it clear what goes where, and she is not to be trifled with. 

She kept her head low in front of her father, but Damini deserved to be hit for how she talked to their father! What was so wrong about what he said? Rajputana women are to serve their janmabhoomi (motherland) and later her husband’s jaagir (feudal estate). 

And everyone knows, with that tongue no Kunwar would take that disgrace. 

The only use for her is to make sure Father keeps his gold. How is that so bad? 

Worse than wearing men’s clothes to Meena Bazaar? 

Kite flying with locals like an imbecile? 

Running around like a bloody camel in the palace?

Pranks on the Generals, priests and the guests without a care for her stature?

Surely not.

There she was, giggling with the kids, up to no good as always!

“Damu!” Revati roared. 

The mischief in those almond eyes could not be hidden, not that Damini would ever try to. Their eyes met, and she walked to her elder sister with a poise that would put peacocks to shame. 

“Khamba Ghani bai sa! How can I help you?” 

Smack.

Head to the side, Damini’s insides fumed at the atrocious insult. Fire consumed her when she looked back at her sister. But before she could say anything, Revati had her hands on her ear as she dragged her to the chambers.

“Bai sa! It hurts, ow, stop!”

Revati was silent until they reached her room and spun Damini around making her fall near the bed.

“What is wrong with you, Damu? Why are you so hell-bent on soiling your father's name and reputation all the time? Are you not his ward? Do you not love him? If not any of that, please tell me you at least hold remorse!”

“Remorse for what, Bai sa? Of course, I love him but he clearly doesn’t love me” A lone tear escaped the lioness, her heart squeezing in waste, for a relationship that won’t exist beyond a mention in history books. 

“What was so wrong about what he said? You get to save the maan of our ancestors! You get to maintain your old life while helping Father! You should consider this an honour and-”

Damini stood up and walked to her sister, “I spit on such honour. If it’s so glorious, why don’t you warm his bed? I am sure you don’t miss your husband anyway!”

Revati stood there, speechless. She had no words for the indecency her sister had unfolded without hesitation. 

“Do you know what you are saying? I cannot. I am bound to my husband. I have taken vows, and I shall not bring shame to his name. Never.”

Smirking and raising an eyebrow, Damini shot another crude arrow towards Revati, “Cannot? Shall not? So you mean to say you would if you could?” 

The silence and red cheeks gave her what she needed to know. 

“You haven’t seen him. You are lucky to have a specimen like that in your bed. He has blue eyes, Damu and looks like a foreign God, here to ravish and ravage. He is a Lord you know? That means he is almost in our ranks. He must have lands, and his pockets must be overflowing with gold!” Hands to her chest, Revati’s breaths were close to being shallow and her eyes were dazed/had a faraway look to them.

Damini never understood this weird fawning that women did over certain men. She has seen women literally drool over their choli and panting like parched animals. 

Weird. 

“Brown hair, those curls! When he looks at you, oh those ice cold eyes! Time freezes and you feel a strange fire consume you, pooling in your gut, giving you these ideas that would put apsaras to shame. I haven’t seen him smile yet, but it will be brighter than the sunrise on the highest hills of our kingdom! I’m sure of it! And those muscles Damu! His angrezi trousers barely fit him and oh how the mighty muscles might rip it to shreds. Hmm, and you have to see his shoulders ! Broader than my husband’s best swords, imagine-”

Damini cleared her throat loudly, and said, “Look, I have no interest in that buffoon even if he had 3 eyes, 4 limbs and walked on bloody water! Just leave me alone, and you can continue with your weird fantasy in private, thank you!”

As Damini was leaving,  Revati grabbed her. 

“You will have to bend over for the bright future of Junagarh, little sister. Save the fire and use it in his bed because Father is not going to let this go. You know his penchant for gold Damu. We need that to keep the God at our doorstep satisfied. Think of yourself as a sacrifice! Don’t we sacrifice goats in Dussera? This is not much different. Appease him Damu, and he will shower blessings on our kingdom. You know we need it! 

 Do it by your own will, or you shall be delivered, hands and legs bound. You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you know what is the better option, hm?”

Smart girl?

Smarter than you think sister. 

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Meanwhile, Lord Cavill was ready to rip his hair out. How has this country survived for so long? You call these jokers ministers? Oh, dear God.

After the first meeting, the Maharaja had insisted that the British envoy must meet and greet with the ministers to get a better understanding of their system. The Lord had reluctantly agreed, after all, he was sent here to keep an eye on the state and its keeper.

While a few tried to speak in English, most of the meeting was held via translation services offered by Mount General, Kulwant Singh. Honestly, Cavill would never get the measure of this odd human. He surely was not intimidated, but this man left him uncomfortable.

Cavill was busy analysing this giant’s diet and lifestyle, wondering how he became what he is. It was a result of mere boredom and not due to any frivolous intrigue. Just as Cavill hid a yawn about to escape, a voice grabbed his attention.

“Long live Cavill Saab, I, Bikram Rajawat, minister of the esteemed court, have a few proposals to put forth. May I?”

Cavill waved him to continue.

“As My Lord must be aware, our lands are arid causing water shortages. The lands beyond the capital need wells, sir. It is hard to-”

Cavill, leaned forward on the cushioned chair, eyes darting to the familiar voice of the Maharaja as he spoke.

“Rajawat! That is enough. I am sure Cavill Saab does not need to be bothered with trivial issues. He must focus on the bigger picture, am I right, sir?” Ganga asked meekly.

“And by bigger, do you mean the palace you want the money for, Mr Singh?”

Chuckling awkwardly, the Maharaja replied, “I am a representative of the subjects my lord! My standard of living reflects on their prosperity. The palace would function as an object of pride for every citizen of my raj.”

“Not your raj, The British Raj.”

Everyone stood up faster than the lightning, swords drawn, ready to get bloody.

“EXCUSE ME?”

Cavill looked around the room and took a breath. These ignorant fools have no idea what they signed up for.

He chuckled at the thought of their possible reactions to his heavy-handed revelations.

“Have you read the treaty, Maharaja Ganga Singh? Have you truly read it?”

Furious by his tone, Bikram yelled, “You are talking to a King, Lord Cavill. I suggest you watch your tone. An insult to him is an insult to the entire court!”

“Respectfully minister, he might be your king and you are allowed to feel so, but I am not talking to a King. When I stand here as an officer from the company, I talk to the WARD of Britain. Not a King, not a Maharaja.”

There was pin-drop silence as Cavill rose from his seat. It was time to show them how things are going to work from now on.

“I suggest you take your seats, honourable ministers and you too Mr Singh. I must clarify that I do not intend to hurl any sort of an insult at anybody. I am merely stating the facts.” Looking at Kulwant, he could only hope for a fair translation. The language was another thing he had to master if he was going to stay here.

His face contorted in distaste as he thought of learning this primitive language, an utter waste of his time.

He pushed those thoughts aside and continued once the ministers had sat back down.

“The British are paying for all of this to be maintained as it were. We are supportive of your lifestyle and would like to see you flourish. However, this is not a charity. The use of our resources need to be monitored, and we are here to provide advice and guidance you all will only benefit further from.” 

The Maharaja nodded and agreed with the envoy. However, he still felt discomfort at his earlier tone. He somehow needed this buffoon under his control, and his only ticket seemed to be Damini. 

That wretched fool. He had a lot of work to do. 

Ganga looked at the Lord and wondered if stoking lust would fetch him anything. There was certainly no harm in trying. 

“Ahem, I would like to extend an invitation to you, good sir. I would like to hold a feast in your honour in the evening. It would be an honour to have you present! This way you get to meet my family and my successor Maan Singh as well.”

A native party? Really? Lord Cavill groaned internally at the thought of fake pleasantries yet responded, “I don’t engage in a lot of social commitments Mr Singh, but I suppose I cannot say no to a feast organised in my honour. I shall be there.”

“So, now that we know what our roles are, I would like to see your proposal for the wells Bikram Singh. I think it will benefit the people and help our taxes in return. There are a few other proposals I would like to work on, so I am requesting you to be prepared with your plans. Include expenditure, time, labour and other needs in detail. Take notes from your Maharaja, as his notes were flawless for the palace plan.”

The court missed his cheekiness and was genuinely impressed by the king’s efforts.

Ganga Singh puffed his chest in pride and got lost in the praise.

Interesting. The king was not hard to read, and Cavill knew what had to be done now.

Ha! A piece of cake.

Previous chapter

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Hindi terms:

Khamba Ghani: Rajasthani salutation and a way to say hello. 

Apsara: celestial nymphs 

Angrezi: English, used commonly to describe any kind of foreign objects, beliefs etc, but mostly rooted in British connotation. 

Maharaja: King 

Dussera: A festival celebrated in India, to honor the various forms of Hindu goddesses. It goes on for 10 days, each day for a particular goddess, and on the 8th day, Goddess Kali is worshiped. Some followers believe in sacrificing animals as a tribute to please her. 

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