She Fought for Love





She sat in front of the mirror looking at the dark circles which had newly formed under her eyes. Her reverie was broken by one of her maids bringing in the beautiful, velvet red gown for her to put on. Had it been any other day, she would have gladly put the red gown on. But today, she could not bring herself to even touch it. Red repulsed her today. It reminded her of her husband, of her subjects, of the numerous people in the army who were fighting in the battlefield.

 

She heard herself asking the maid to bring out her black gown. Black would help her mourn for the blood of her land which had been spilled in the battlefield. After donning the black gown, she asked one of the guards to prepare her horse. She could see the reluctance in his eyes as she expressed the desire to go to the battlefield. She wanted to be beside her love – her king, and hold his hand for a moment. She wanted to pay her respect to the valiant people of her army and burn the enemies with the fire of fury which showed in her eyes.

 

After her horse was prepared, she rode it to the battlefield amidst a dozen guards. The guards were unable to voice their reluctance for letting the queen into the battlefield, and they took it upon themselves to ensure that at least she reaches the battlefield safely. As soon as they reached the battlefield, she thanked the guards, unsheathed her sword which had been a gift from her king, and rode into the chaos looking for him.

 

The deeper she rode into the chaos, the more her heart was wrenched by the sight of mangled bodies spread all around the battlefield.

 

“What is the point in waging a war by sacrificing your loved ones?” she had once asked her king.

 

“We don’t sacrifice our loved ones in the war, my queen. We fight wars to save our loved ones,” he had replied.

 

She brought her focus back to the battlefield and her eyes searched desperately to find her king. She found him flanked by a couple of knights, charging towards the enemy king’s army.

 

The look on his face was a mixture of protectiveness, fear, awe, love and gratitude as he saw her coming towards him. The kohl in her eyes was smeared by her tears, and her hair was an entangled mess. She tried to speak, but words refused to come out of her lips. She chose to ride by her king and slay the enemy troops which came in her way.

 




She lost count of the number of people who had been killed by her sword. She tried to estimate the size of her army, and realised that it had greatly been diminished. She saw a figure in front of her, surrounded by soldiers, killing mercilessly the people who dared to approach him. It was the enemy king. She looked closely to find a weak area to attack and realised that the enemy king had no rear flank.

 

Wasting no time, she slithered across the battlefield like a shadow and positioned herself behind the enemy king. Her sword came to life and kissed his neck. A head came rolling off from where the enemy king once stood, and it was then that she realised that the battle was over. A smile of respite shone on her face as she realised that the people she loved were no longer in danger.

 

**

 

I looked on with rapt attention as my grandfather made the black queen move a few steps and strike the white king off the chessboard.

 

He looked at me and tried to form a smile with whatever number of teeth was present in his mouth, and said, “She fought for love and she won.”

 


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