The mist in Tiānjīng lingered longer than the sun. Morning broke without warmth, casting the palace walls in pale light. The marriage was complete. The titles had been granted. And now, the next chapter of her life began—not as a princess of Svarṇapatha, but as the Consort of Prince Shen Liwei, soon to be taken to the far reaches of the empire.
Long Zhi, they called it—a district closer to the frontier than the capital. A land of mountains, pine forests, and winding stone roads. Even the courtiers had whispered of it with vague disdain.
"Far from court."
"He governs a cold land, quiet but always watching."
"The fifth prince was given solitude, not power."
Revati stood near the gate of the western court, wrapped in a traveling cloak lined with silver fur. Her fingers, still bearing the ceremonial rings of the Tiānguó court, clutched the shawl Rajendra had given her.
Liwei stood not far ahead, already mounted. His horse, jet-black and armored in leather, snorted gently in the chill air. He wore the same composure as always—silent, upright, unreadable. Even now, after days beside him, Revati felt as if she had never truly met him.
"Far from court."
"He governs a cold land, quiet but always watching."
"The fifth prince was given solitude, not power."
Revati stood near the gate of the western court, wrapped in a traveling cloak lined with silver fur. Her fingers, still bearing the ceremonial rings of the Tiānguó court, clutched the shawl Rajendra
had given her.
Liwei stood not far ahead, already mounted. His horse, jet-black and armored in leather, snorted gently in the chill air. He wore the same composure as always—silent, upright, unreadable. Even now, after days beside him, Revati felt as if she had never truly met him.
Her brothers stood beside her one last time—Rudra Pratap bhai on her right, broad-shouldered and still in his Odia armor; Subhakaran bhai on her left, hands clasped behind his back, his eyes heavier than usual. Rajendra stood slightly behind, arms crossed, jaw tense.
"You will write?" Subhakaran asked quietly.
"If they allow it," she replied.
Rudra Pratap placed a hand on her head in blessing, the way their mother once had. "Do not forget who you are, even if they try to make you."
She turned to Rajendra last.
"Stay safe," she said.
He didn't reply immediately. His voice, when it came, was clipped. "You may need your sword more than I do. I'll see to the eastern borders."
Their eyes held for a long moment. And then it was over.
Revati stepped into the chariot beside Lord Shen, the wheels crunching over gravel as they departed. No fanfare. No drums. Only the tightening of her chest as the city of dragons disappeared behind them.
So, this is how it ends.
A princess becomes a consort.
A daughter becomes a symbol.
And a woman begins to forget the language of her own sky.