The royal council hall was a large, open chamber with a high vaulted ceiling, its walls adorned with golden carvings and intricate frescoes that told the stories of Svarṇapatha's greatest kings. The room was filled with high-ranking nobles, diplomats, and military leaders, each standing at attention as the emperor entered.
Emperor Balaramdev, the ruler of Svarṇapatha, was a man whose presence demanded respect. His tall, imposing figure was draped in royal attire of deep maroon, with jewels gleaming from his neck and wrists. His face, though aged with wisdom, carried the fierceness of a warrior—his eyes sharp and commanding. Yet, beneath the surface of power, there was always a hint of tenderness in the way he looked at his children. It was this softness that Revati cherished most in him, even as the empire weighed heavily on his shoulders.
As the emperor settled into his throne, the council members took their seats. Subhakaran stood beside Revati, who now took her place at the table, her back straight and her gaze unwavering.
"My daughter," the emperor began, his voice rich and resonant, "the time has come to formalize the arrangements with the celestial kingdom. Our allies in the north are awaiting our decision. The proposal, as you know, is not just one of marriage—it is one of alliance, of shared strength."
Revati listened intently, her mind carefully processing every word. Her father spoke with the authority of an Emperor who had seen the rise and fall of empires, yet there was a vulnerability in his tone that betrayed the weight of his decisions.
"The dragon emperor extends his hand," Balramdev said slowly, "and though our arms are strong enough to match his, wisdom sometimes lies not in striking, but in staying the blade. This union may not be born of need, but it will open roads for peace, for trade, and for our
people to thrive without spilling more blood."
He looked to Revati then, not with desperation, but with trust.
"Svarṇapatha does not bow. But we can build bridges—because we are strong enough to
choose restraint."
Revati's heart beat a little faster as the words sank in. She had always known that duty would one day call upon her to make such a choice, but now that the moment had come, the reality of it seemed more daunting than she had imagined.
Subhakaran, sensing her silent reflection, leaned slightly toward her and spoke in a low voice only she could hear.
"Svarṇapatha has never needed to kneel, Revati. And we do not know. But strength is not only measured by victory in war—it is measured by the lives spared; the futures preserved."
He paused; his eyes steady.
"The emperor sees further than the battlefield. This alliance is not surrender—it is a strategy. A peaceful world carved by our own hands, before lesser kings try to redraw it for us."
The council continued as the emperor and his advisors discussed the finer details of the marriage contract. The negotiations were long and tedious, filled with intricate terms about trade, military alliances, and promises of support. Revati felt as though she were slowly becoming a part of a grand machine—a machine that operated with precision, but without room for personal desires or aspirations.
Yet, through it all, one thought lingered in her mind—Prince Shen Liwei. His dark, unreadable eyes, his distant presence in the royal hall. What kind of man was he? Was he simply another piece in the game of power, or was there more to him than that? She could not yet answer that question, but one thing was certain: her life would never be the same.
As the meeting came to a close, the emperor turned to Revati once more. "Daughter," he said, his voice softening, "this marriage will be your destiny. I have always trusted you to make the right choices for our people. You will bring honor to Svarṇapatha, and I know you will do so with grace and wisdom."
Revati bowed her head, the words of her father sinking deep into her soul. "I will serve the empire, Father. Always."