#i write

Part 3

Jalaluddin Firuz Khilji was dead, in a car accident while he was on a business trip in Baku, back in Delhi, the news had reached like a tide, washing away all sense of stability.. It was devastating, really, the man who had been laughing in his daughter's wedding just half a year ago, was dead and buried..

It hadn't even been two days since her father's funeral as Jahan saw the map of Delhi changing. On the outside,Allauddin ascended the throne of Hindnama Enterprises with grim faced seriousness and behind the blinds of polite society? - Allauddin movedlike a storm, dismantling gangs from within, starting with the one, starting with the one that tried to buy him when he was younger.. All of them : dead, hanging from their own ceilings like war flags..

Kwhabgah was silent, the kind that makes the chandeliers feel heavy with the crowd of grief.. Meher had stopped coming out of her room, spending her days hiding her face in her pillows and nights avoiding her husband.. It didn't have to be said out loud, everyone knew how the former king died.. But Jahanara worked relentlessly, covertly changing headlines, bribing reporters, silencing journals.. Even if it was painful to accept, she knew the regime was due for a change - the company needed new policy and the less savory side of their business? It was due a stronger hand.

She walked into Allauddin's room, just as he got out of the shower - his hair wet, towel hanging dangerously low on his hips.

"How did you kill him?"

He huffed without looking, drying his hair.

"waqat ke sath sath_" He froze, then squinted at her.. "𝘏𝘰𝘸" She asked, not "𝘞𝘩𝘺" Like Meher would have, between bouts of heart broken sobs, no - "𝘏𝘰𝘸" As if she was asking how easy it was to kill a king. The condescending "change with the times" lecture died between his teeth..

"So that's what it is.. You're curious how I killed your father, not sad?"

He chuckled, walking up to her, flicking a lock of hair off her face.

"Seene mai dil ki jagha zeher rakh ke chalti ho tum, janti ho na?" (𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?)

"Sawal kar rahi hu aap se." Jahan whispered (𝘐'𝘮 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨)

Allauddin leaned down, lips feathering against her ear.

"If you spend enough money even kings can be killed like commoners.."

His fingers tightened around her waist, spanning the soft flesh beneath her salwaar.

Jahan was thriving on the attention, yes, but also hated the way he still treated her like a stupid child.

"You're married to my_"

Before she could even finish, Allauddin shoved her to the wall, fist banging just inches from her head, making the mortar ring.

"And that's the fucking problem!"

He hissed, the brown of his eyes blown black with frustration and lust, Jahan tried to argue,

"I_"

"𝘾𝙝𝙪𝙥!"

His voice like thunder against her face, made her shiver, a delicious tingle winding down her spine like a venomous serpent at his command for silence.

"Janti bhi ho kya hota hai yaha?!" (𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦!?)

He took her hand, placing it flat against his chest, right above his heart, her fingers quivering as she felt the beating of his heart - loud, unapologetic, 𝘏𝘪𝘴..

"You speak in manipulations" She whispered,

"I speak from the heart." He countered,

"Your heart is dark, Allauddin.. "

With that, he let her go, and she stormed out, leaving him huffing into the humidity of the room like a starving wolf.. Outside, Jahanara walked down the corridor, her stride swift and her eyes dancing in a dangerous cocktail of amusement and giddiness.

Later that night, he went to Meher, partly for damage control, partly because in the small span of their married life, he'd grown somewhat fond of the elder sister, like one might of a pet canary..

Meher sat on the bed, face towards the open window as a storm rolled into the horizon - slowly, surely..

"Maut ka khel khel rahe hai aap aur Jahan.. Jab sab tabah ho jayega toh kya lekar jiyoge?"

(𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘑𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩.. 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩?)

Meherunissa's words, however softly may they be uttered, made Allauddin stop in his tracks, before he tilted her chin up, slowly, as tenderly a man like him could manage.

"Dekha jayega.. Abhi sab tabah nahi hua hai."

(𝘞𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦.. 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘵)

Meher closed her eyes, feeling like a bird trapped between hurricane and wildfire, this could only end in mutual destruction - total, absolute destruction

Part 2

Probably the entirety of Delhi was invited to the festivity of the wedding - Meherunissa, the soft spoken elder daughter of Jalaluddin Khilji, was marrying Allauddin Khilji, the rouge who became prince..

But he was nowhere to be found in the entire Kwhabgah, the guests had begun to talk, and the Qazi was begining to get restless. Jalaluddin was fuming silently, th veins in his forehead throbbing in rhythm of the clench of his teeth.. Jahanara was at a corner - waiting, watching, getting annoyed by the minute. How dare he abandon such an important moment? Especially when she'd worked so hard to bring all the pieces on the board!? Jahan slipped out back, walking up to the chauffeur.

"Chote saab kaha gaye hai?" (𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳?)

The chauffeur stammered and she stopped him mid babble.

"Just drive me there." She said, getting into the car.

The car rolled up in front of a club, one of the biggest clubs in the city, and Jahanara was already getting a minor headache from the base that leaked out of the building like poison. She took a deep breath, clutching her purse and slipping out into the open air.

"Wait here. I'll be back soon."

She walked into the club, past the bouncers who knew better than to stop someone like her. Jahan walked through the crowded main lobby, the music thrumming heavily in her heart. She walked up to the bartender, tapping a well manicured nail on the counter.

"Where is Mr. Khilji?"

The bartender silently pointed at a VIP alcove upstairs, and she turned towards it wordlessly.

She walked in on him, sitting like a king on a leather couch, with a woman on his lap, some trust fund baby with daddy's money, probably.. Jahan cleared her throat.

"You're supposed to be getting married."

"I'm supposed to be doing a lot of things, come.. Sit."

His tone was so languidly amused it made irritation spike in her heart.

"Main yaha baithne nahi aayi Allauddin." (𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘪𝘵)

"Haan par aa jab gayi ho to kahi nahi jaogi, aur yeh bhi nahi jaygi." (𝘠𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.. 𝘕𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘦) he said, nuzzling the girl's neck as if all of this was one big game.

Jahanara looked at the girl, with a look that withered gossip journalists on the daily.

"Leave"

The girl hesitated

"I said 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚"

The girl scampered away, tasting the tension in the air.. Allauddin's hand fell as he stopd up, crowding Jahan.

"You are the most infuriating woman I've ever met, and I've met plenty.."

His index finger skimmed her chin, teasing, but not in a way she could actually retort for. But Jahanara grabbed his finger anyway, her eyes turning into angry slits.

"Kwhabgah logon se bhada pada hai, aur Khilji khandan ka jamai gayab hai. Did you plan this disrespect or was it one of your whims?" (𝘒𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘣𝘨𝘢𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘒𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘫𝘪 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨)

Allauddin chuckled, stealing his finger away.

"Aur hum aap ki baat kyun sune_"

"Qarzdaar hai aap hamari."

(𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶_)

(𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘸𝘦 𝘮𝘦)

For the first time in maybe ever, Allauddin Ali Khilji didn't have a sword edged response.

𝙀𝙡𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙜𝙤..

Allauddin, a boy of 19 without a penny to his name - half starved, half dead, heaving with every breath, wrists and ankles raw from the rough ropes that bound him even half an hour ago.. He stood at the centre of a well decorated lobby, the lobby of Kwhabgah. Jalaluddin stood at a distance with his men - talking, trading, deciding his nephew's future. Allauddin felt more like a new decoration than a person just rescued from slavery..

He looked up to the soft patter of feet down the stairs, and saw her, Jahanara Khilji - wide eyed, nine year old clutching a toy to her chest which was probably worth more than the clothes he was wearing. She looked at him one, twice, before walking up and holding his hand.

"Aap rahoge hamare saath?" (𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘶𝘴?)

Jalaluddin took one look at the scene, and Allauddin's fate was gilded from then on.

𝘽𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 present..

Allauddin took a decisive step back, lip quirking up in a smirk.

"Purana zakhm pe waar karna galat baat hai, Jahan, abbu ne nahi sikhaya?" (𝘗𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘑𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?)

Jahanara crossed her arms, steel resolved.

"Get in the car, Allauddin."

He could have dismissed her, could have walked past her without a glance.. But be didn't, not because she had the upper hand, but because the bargain was too tempting - a marriage : the master-key to the city... He was unpredictable yes, but not unthoughtful..

They came home within fifteen minutes, she slipped into the shadows while he made an entrance grand enough to ripple the mob of high-nosed guests.. Only when the bride and groom sat together in front of the Qazi, did Jahan let herself smile in relief.

Jahanara Binte Jalaluddin Khilji had just tethered the storm..

Part 1

𝗗𝗲𝗹𝗵𝗶, 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟲 𝗖.𝗘

The summer heat was sweltering, almost offensive in it's intensity, but even the glare of the sun couldn't match the arrogant extravagance of Kwhabgah.

Hindnamaa Enterprises, or the Khilji family was a pillar of the society - from oil refineries to political circles, they owned everything.. And it's undisputed king was Jalaluddin Firuz Khilji, whose age couldn't begin to rust his strengths, although most of which was mental.

This morning was going rather lazily for Jahanara, who had just kept her gilded copy of Shahnameh down.. Walking down the stairs she heard the unmistakable roar of a Bugatti Chiron, making her eyebrow quirk up on its own - the rouge prince, the thorn at her father's side, usually didn't come this early in the morning..

She peeked into Meher's room: already empty, soft, sweet, gentle Meherunissa couldn't help but peek at the incoming storm, and Jahan decided that she wouldn't be left behind as well..

She reached the lobby, noticing how her father was already standing at the base of the stairs with two of his men.

"Kya kia usne ab, abbujaan?" (𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳?)

"Khud hi dekh lo" (𝘚𝘦𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧)

Allauddin sauntered in like he owned the place, because in his mind? He owned the whole world.. Behind him, a handler was guiding in an Ostrich.. An alive, healthy looking Ostrich.

"Kya mazak hai Allauddin?" The man of the house gruffed, his brown brows furrowing.(𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘫𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯?)

Allauddin took of his shades, giving him a mock bow, before straightening up

"Main mazak nahi karta chachajaan, yeh taufa hai Meher ke liye. Where is she, though?"(𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘫𝘰𝘬𝘦, 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘦)

Meher popped out of a balcony, huffing.

"Okay I asked for a feather, not the whole bird!"

Jalaluddin took in the entire situation, before bursting into boisterous laugh "tum sudhroge ya nahi bhanje!? Where did you even get_" (𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦, 𝘯𝘦𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘸!?)

Jahanara wasn't laughing.. Meher thought he was bring kind, any other woman would have taken this as an extensive flirtation, but Jahan knew - Allauddin Khilji was tying his lader to the throne.. She slowly retreated, heels clicking again the Persian marbles with the calmness of a surgeon..

Later that afternoon, after lunch, after most of the servants had stopped hovering like midday bees, Jahan knocked at his door.

"May I come in?"

"When have you ever asked for permission, Jahanara?" Came his voice, deep yet with an amused timbre. She walked in, closing the door behind her.

"Aap ne hamari aapi ko taufa diya, par main bhi toh is ghar ki hi beti hu na?" (𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦, 𝘯𝘰?)

"Aur kya chahiye, aapko?" (𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵?) "You've got everything.." He gestured around, getting up from the leather seat he was lounging in. "Chaand laake du?" (𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯?)

"Marry my sister"

Even Allauddin had to silence himself mid taunt.

"Most women come to me with their own hands in marriage_"

"𝙎𝙝𝙪𝙩 𝙪𝙥 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙣!" she hissed, locking the door before turning to him.

"Woh ghar ki badi beti hai, if you marry her, all of this goes to you, without any trouble whatsoever.." (𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦)

Allauddin considered her words.. The girl he'd seen throw tantrums as a deer footed nine year old was now talking as if conquest was her mother tongue.. Maybe it was, what was her mother's name again? Inconsequential..

"You've grown" He muttered "maybe more than I've been noticing."

Jahanara didn't flinch at the jab, just leaned against the cabinet. "Would you rather Ruknuddin have all of what should be yours? Think about it.. Who dirties his hands with the mafia while my dad laughs in galas? Who is covertly ruling all of our southern extensions? You, or that idiot in Dubai?"

Allauddin caged her, his strong hands on either side of her hips, gripping the expensive hardwood.

"Bade khudgarz ho gayi hain aap.. That's nice I guess, but what do you get, princess?" (𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥)

Jahan scoffed "I don't need anything.. Shaan hai to Jahan hai." She slipped away like mist, out the door before he could even grab her wrist. Her declaration "I am where luxury is", made a sharp smile bloom on his face " Clever girl.." He murmured into the air..

The persuasion didn't take much time, uncle dearest was looking for a suitor anyway, why not his most trusted.. And Meher? She was delighted, squealing as she crushed Jahanara in a hug.

"Kaise Shukriya karu tumaha choti!? Because I know you've done something!" (𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘰 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘪𝘴!?) Meher whisper-screamed in delight, floating in the false delicacy of love.

"Why do you have yo thank me?" Jahanara giggled "kahe diya usse, ki aap pagal ho rahi ho pyar me.." (𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦) But beneath her cheerful exterior, Jahanara Khilji felt an unadulterated sense of triumph, making her imagine if this was how Alexander had felt when he first conquered Hindukush..

The game was just beginning, and Allauddin Khilji was her knight of swords..

the funniest thing about being a writer, is character inspo.

Aesthetic analysis

𝙅𝙖𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙖 𝙆𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙟𝙞

Scent profile : Lily of the Valley, Camphor, Cardamom.

Songs : "Desert Rose" By Lolo Zouaï

"The Hills" By The Weeknd

She is an extremely tactical young woman with high ambitions and a Machiavellian mindset, her loyalty lies only with herself..

(I'm not stalling I swear the first two chapters are done 😭)

Aesthetic analysis :

𝘼𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙣 𝙆𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙟𝙞

Scent profile : Loban, bergamot and sharp spices.

Songs : "The Morning" By The Weeknd

"Binte Dil" By Arijit Singh

He's a businessman with sharp wit and ruthless sense of cynicism. He has ambition and grit, rising from the gutters in cutthroat dedication after he was taken under Jalaluddin's wing..

(Jahanara's part coming soon)