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The grand court of Roshanabad was in chaos. Ministers paced back and forth, their voices echoing through the hall. The fire that had engulfed the northern side of the kingdom the previous night had left destruction in its wake.

Crops were gone, houses reduced to ashes, and countless lives lost. The usually vibrant court now felt cold and heavy.

Shah Jahan, the king of Roshanabad, sat on his grand throne, his face grim. Beside him stood his son, Prince Rafat Jahan, his expression mirroring his father's worry.

"We've suffered a great loss," a minister spoke up, his voice trembling. "The northern side provided most of our resources. Without it, we are vulnerable."

Another minister chimed in, "Your Majesty, should we consider seeking help from neighboring kingdoms?"

The king leaned forward, his gaze sharp. "And who will help us?" he asked bitterly. "Gandhar is at war. Jahangiri is battling famine. Hushnabadh is already struggling with its finances. And the others? They are allies of that treacherous ShahnaGharh kingdom."

The ministers exchanged nervous glances. One of them finally broke the silence. "There is one kingdom left, Your Majesty. They are powerful and neutral. They don't align with us or ShahnaGharh."

Shah Jahan frowned. "Which kingdom?"

The minister hesitated for a moment before replying, "Oman."

The court fell silent. The name hung in the air like a distant thunderstorm, bringing both hope and uncertainty.

"Oman?" Shah Jahan repeated, narrowing his eyes. "They have never involved themselves in our affairs. Why would they help us now?"

Another minister stepped forward. "Your Majesty, we have information that Oman is in need of something—something we can offer."

The king's eyes darkened with thought. "Oman is powerful and wise. If we approach them, we must tread carefully. Rafat," he said, turning to his son, "what do you think?"

Prince Rafat Jahan stood tall. "Father, if Oman is our only hope, we should take the chance. But we must be prepared for their terms. They won't offer aid without a price."

Shah Jahan nodded slowly, his fingers tapping the armrest of his throne. "Send word to Oman. Request a meeting. Let us see if this path can save Roshanabad."
Prince Rafat Jahan, standing beside the king, broke the silence with a skeptical tone.

"Oman is already powerful," Rafat said, narrowing his eyes. "What could they possibly need from us? What do we have to offer?"

The minister hesitated, glancing nervously at the king and prince. Finally, he said, "It's not resources or gold, Your Highness. It's the princess."

Rafat stiffened. "The princess?"

The minister nodded. "The Prince of Oman is searching for a bride. The royal family of Oman is desperate to find a suitable match for him—a princess who is beautiful, royal, and carries herself with grace. And we..." He paused meaningfully.

The king leaned forward, his expression darkening. "Speak clearly, Minister. What are you suggesting?"

The minister took a deep breath. "Your Majesty, we have Princess Noor Jahan. She is known for her beauty, wisdom, and royal demeanor. If Oman seeks a bride for their prince, Princess Noor Jahan could be the answer to our troubles."

A heavy silence followed. Shah Jahan's face hardened, and Rafat clenched his fists.

"You're suggesting we offer my sister as a bargain?" Rafat's voice was sharp.

"My prince," the minister said quickly, "this could be an opportunity to save Roshanabad. Oman is powerful and neutral. An alliance through marriage could secure their aid and strengthen our kingdom for generations."

The king's jaw tightened as he considered the minister's words. "And what if they refuse? What if Oman sees this as an insult?"

"They won't, Your Majesty," another minister interjected. "The royal family of Oman is eager to secure a match for their prince. It's not just a favor to us—it's something they need as well."

Rafat turned to his father, his eyes filled with concern. "Father, this is not just a political decision. It's Noor Jahan's life. We can't force her into this."

Shah Jahan raised a hand to silence him. His gaze was fixed on the minister.

Shah Jahan's voice echoed through the grand hall. "Arrange a meeting with the Royals of Oman. We will offer them Noor Jahan."

The court fell silent at his command. His eyes were fixed on the ministers, who hesitated for a moment before nodding.

"Yes, Your Majesty," one minister replied, bowing deeply. "We will prepare immediately."

"Good," the king said, his tone final. "Until then, the court is dismissed. Leave!"

The ministers quickly shuffled out of the hall, their footsteps fading away. Prince Rafat Jahan stayed behind, his mind still troubled by his father's decision. He couldn't shake the thought of his sister, Noor Jahan, being thrust into such a pivotal role.

Once the court was empty, Shah Jahan turned to his son, with a sharp gaze. "Rafat, where is Noor Jahan?"

Rafat hesitated before replying, "Probably in her room. It must be the time of her dance practice."

The king nodded, then turned back to face the grand window, his mind already turning over the implications of the decision. "Hm. Don't tell her anything about this yet. I want to make sure everything is in place before she is informed."

Rafat gave a small nod, though his thoughts were elsewhere. He knew his sister well. Her grace and beauty were unmatched, but she also had a will of her own. If this marriage proposal came as a shock to her, it would not be easy to accept.

"I understand, Father," Rafat said quietly, still troubled. "But you know this will not be simple."

Shah Jahan looked at him, and turned around and said, "She is my only hope for now, Rafat. I need to present her in front of Oman in a presentable and beautiful way. We must care for her until then."

Rafat nodded, though a knot tightened in his stomach. His sister's fate was now tied to the survival of their kingdom.

The king continued, "Go and check if she has eaten. Afterward, you can go to your chamber and review the military documents. And don't forget to spend time with Anika. We need an heir, Rafat."

The mention of Anika made Rafat pause. He had already been distant from his wife, consumed by the kingdom's matters, but the king's words were clear. His duty as a prince was not just political—it was personal, too.

"I-... I'll take care of it, Father," Rafat said, bowing slightly before turning toward the door, making his way towards his sister's room.

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 To be continued. . .

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