The Village Girl

Chapter Two - [Aaryan]

Her name was Seetha, I had come to know, and she was some form of enchantress. With her words and her voice, she seemed to catch my attention and hold it. Her stories were magnificent, better than any of the stories I had heard in the past and all that this showed was that she had a wild imagination... a mind with more in it than anyone I knew.

I was intrigued by her.

Especially because she was a simple village girl.

I didn't understand what it was... but oftentimes, I tried not to question what I felt. I felt that way for a reason, whether it was instinct or the whispers of the gods, I had a reason to feel the way I did.

It had been a month and a half now since I had arrived at the Western Camp and I looked forward to nothing but the weeks end to hear her stories. And today was that day.

"You're going again?" I heard my brother say to me as I tied my red silk sash around my waist before sliding my sword into it. "I don't see why you're so interested in hearing stories."

I turned to look at him.

He was sitting on my bed, mixing his dinner with his hand before he stuffed his face.

My little brother, Aarun lacked the kind of intelligence needed for a man of his status. Instead, he was a brute. He ate well and he fought well, but that was not enough to be a military leader in Chandraba. It was why he and I were here in the first place. It had become my job to teach him... to try and give him what he needs to be a better leader.

But he was hopeless. He refused to pick up a single book and prefered to spend his evenings drinking and bringing women to his bed.

I was not known for giving up... but I was known for being wise enough to know when a battle was lost.

This battle was lost.

My mother had spoiled him rotten and now I was charged with cleaning the mess.

So, I did not expect him to ever understand the power of stories, so I did not waste my time. If there was one thing I hated more than a fool, it was a fool who wasted my time. My little brother had become one of them.

So I turned around and pushed the drapes out of the way before leaving.

"Big brother!" He called after me. "Ey! I was talking to you!"

When I reached the village, I received the usual curious glances from the people there. It was a tiny village but the market was always bustling with people. I was not unfamiliar to this. Since I was a child I grew up under the wing of great warrior leaders whose duty was to teach me what I needed to know to take charge. To become their King. But the life in the military was not at all like the life at the palace.

No, palace life was much different.

As a soldier, we were constantly on the move, roaming across the country to do what it takes to maintain peace. Sometimes we stayed in the homes of nobles, but most of the time we stayed in filthy inns. So I had become used to being in villages, surrounded by people who ate less but smiled more.

I towered over most of them in terms of height, even most of the even most of the men, but I always attributed that to my health. I was certain that I was much healthier than every single person here. I was stronger too, and had more muscle on my bones. And of course, I was cleaner.

On my walk there, I passed by a small temple. Actually, it was more of a shrine, but nonetheless, I stopped walking to pay my respects, closing my eyes and reciting a prayer in my head.

That was another thing that was different about the palace life. The temples near the palace were massive. They could be the size of this village itself, painted in golds and reds with dozens of statues and looking as glorious as heaven must have been. Here in these villages however, there were these small shrines which were always well maintained. And there would always be someone praying there.

I guess in the end the size of the temple didn't matter, so long as it served its purpose of bringing ease and support to its people.

When I finally arrived at the square, I leaned against a wall and waited, crossing my arms. Children had already gathered, sitting around and waiting for the girl to show up with her story, but very soon more adults began to join the group.

The I spotted her.

She came with her basket as she always did, it was old and falling apart but it served its purpose of collecting the donations which I assumed she used to help her family. She didn't need to say much to get people's attention since everyone was already ready to hear her talk. After greeting her audience, her eyes met mine for a brief moment.

And she looked away quickly, like she always did.

It made me smirk.

Today, as she spoke, I found myself not listening. My eyes were still on her, but I found myself not hearing her words. Instead, I was simply looking at her.

This girl, Seetha, wasn't very pretty.

I imagined that she may have been if her body was covered in silks and jewelry and other luxurious things. But she didn't have any of that, so she looked plain. Her body was draped in a faded red sari that lacked any form of design. It was old and slightly torn but like her basket, still served its purpose.

She wore no jewelry aside from tiny earrings and she didn't even have any sandals on to protect her feet. Her skin was as tanned as mine was, as was the skin of most people who spent all their time outdoors, and she wore no makeup at all.

Her eyes were dark, black in fact, but her long hair was even blacker. Her hair was beautiful... long and full. It was braided loosely, falling over her shoulder and reaching her waist. And strands of loose hair stuck to her neck and what I could see of her chest because of her sweat.

Her hair made her beautiful.

And now, the more I looked at her, the more I realized she was beautiful.

She was beautiful.

Her hands pressed together as she lowered her head and thanked her audience for listening to her story once again and I was snapped out of my thoughts.

It was over.

Already?

She picked up her basket, getting ready to leave, but I chose not to let her. Not yet, at least. So I approached her, and when I reached her, I tossed a silver coin into her basket.

She looked up at me with surprise, and now that I was much closer to her, I was reminded of how large her eyes were. They were large and filled with expression... a very helpful tool for a successful storyteller. "Thank you," she said, lowering her head in respect.

"Let me help you," I said to her, taking her basket from her. It was filled with food a new, freshly dyed sari, looking heavier than usual.

She looked like she was about to protest but when her eyes met mine she stopped, grabbing the loose end of her sari and fidgeting with it. "Thank you," she repeated.

I watched her for a moment before holding back a smile. "Lead the way."

We walked in silence for the most part, and I was surprised by how far away she lived from the heart of the village. Finally however, she spoke up. "I do not know your name."

"Aaryan," I said, simply. My full name was Aaryaraavanan, but I did not feel the need to tell her that.

She nodded. "My name is Seetha."

Now I wondered if that was her full name.

"And that," she continued, "is my home."

Down the hill was a small group of homes, all of which had little plots of farmland.

"I can continue on my own now," she said. "But thank you."

I was slightly disappointed, thinking that I had let silence take over the little time I was given, and as she took the basket from me, I kept my eyes on her. "Or," I started, making her look at me. "We could go down to the river and you can tell me more stories."

Surprise filled her face, her eyes widening for a moment.

But then she smiled.