Suddenly they were in a room with a fireplace and nothing else. There was not a fire per se, just the embers of one waiting to be stoked. Nothing adorned the stone walls and there was not even a rug on the stone floor. She could see this much in the dim light of the red hot logs. On the mantle piece she saw a strange circular symbol engraved into the stone with a curiously astounding precision and artistry. The room gained importance and bearing because of this incredible dichotomy.
"Now Vasundhra, to answer your question", said Vikramaditya, breaking the spell of the room, "I want you to rule in my stead for a year and prove that you are indeed capable."
"What?", said the shocked Vasundhara. "Let me finish", he continued, "You will not ask for my help in this one year nor will I interfere. Also the year starts tomorrow.", he finished.
By this time Bhairava had joined them and stood brooding in one corner.
"And what will you do? In this one year?", she asked, tongue firmly in cheek. "Hmmm, what would you have me do?", he asked, playing along.
"Take over my duties of course.", she said, not batting an eyelid. It was relieving to hear him laugh aloud.
"Well this is the wager then: We will each take over the other's duty for a year. You should also rule twice as well as me and the same goes for me. I will not ask your help and neither should you mine.", he asked her.
"I agree.", she said for the first time doubtful. But there was no doubt to be heard in her words. As she said this she turned away from Vikramaditya and did not notice Bhairava hand something to him. She turned towards him as he said,
"Well then if that is the case.." He swiftly undid her robe before she realized it and placed a hot brand on top of her left breast. The searing heat of the brand was so harsh that she did not feel the sharp, momentary prick of the needle. As she threatened to faint, he held her steady all the time guiding her by the elbow to the darkest corner of the room. There he made her sink into a chair. The chair felt oddly familiar and stopped her from fainting.
"Look up", he commanded barely in a whisper. She looked up immediately and found his searching concerned eyes. But as their eyes met, the concern was replaced by steel. He gently brushed the still fresh brand on her otherwise unblemished skin. She winced and immediately looked down upon her breast: It was the same strange circular symbol. He lifted her chin and said, "This, Vasundhara, is the mark of an Aditya." "With this, you are never safe now. But then again, you will also be almost universally revered." Her entire body went stiff with tension. "However, you will never bare it, unless in need."
Now, lightly tracing the mark he said, "The inner circle is the Sun, the Aditya. The outer circle denotes the people, your Praja, your subjects. The four lines connecting them are the rays, your duty, your promise, your justice and your mercy. Remember the outer circle rules the inner one, though it may seem the other way. The inner most dot, the black pin prick that is almost invisible - that is the darkness. You will always keep it at bay." His voice was commanding, insistent and could not be ignored. It seemed to fill her entire consciousness...
She remembered the day they first met. It was her Swayamvaram. There were a hundred suitors in her hall. Then they heard it, a loud trumpet, like a clap of thunder. She rushed outside to her balcony and there he was - tall, terrible, handsome. With the Sun behind him creating a halo of sorts and his armor shining, he looked like a God descended. He was at the head of an army that stretched as far as the eye could see. She looked on as her father rushed to him and heard clearly when he asked if she would have him for a husband. Her father looked up questioningly, ready to object, be it at the cost of his own life. She had already fallen for him though..
"Yes, I will.", she agreed with the weight of truth behind her. And at those words, the tension seemed to lift and her taut limbs softened. She sank into the cushion and felt the familiar curves of the chair. She looked down in astonishment. It was her chair! It was a peculiar chair. There were no intricate designs nor any ornate craftsmanship. Its opulence was underlined by its sheer comfort. She remembered that the cushions were filled with silk cotton - picked, threaded and puffed within seconds of the pod bursting. It had taken years of effort and precision to arrive at this epitome of comfort. It was her chair! She remembered Vikramaditya asking her to bring it with her. He had in fact insisted. This was her chair! Her island of peace, her anchor to reality. As she realized this she felt a sudden burst of love for Vikramaditya followed almost immediately by an intense pain. This time she fainted.
Waking up, she found herself in his arms. He was whispering in her ear, "I am sorry...". It stopped the moment she stirred. Gathering himself, he faced her. "I injected a small dose of an old, odious drug when I branded you Vasundhara; directly into your heart. Now, whenever you feel powerful emotion, you will fill intense pain overpowering you. The pain will last only a few seconds and you will stop fainting after the first few times. But, I am afraid, it is something you have to get used to."
She could only manage a mumbled "Why?" in response. He faced her firmly and said, "To remind you that your duty is to your people."
The Gauntlet had been accepted.
