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Anything for his lady<333
Ratna - JambavatiAchyuta
|Krishna Jambavati|
The first time she saw him, he was not laughing.
That alone startled her. She heard that he always had a charming smile on his face.
The palace had heard tales of him for years; how he stole butter and hearts with equal ease. But when he walked into her father’s court, sword sheathed, shoulders relaxed, he did not smile.
He looked like someone who had come for war. And in a way, he had.
Jambavati stood beside her father’s throne, draped in peacock blue, the colour she adored most.
She had heard whispers: Krishna had accused her father, the great Jambavan, of keeping the Syamantaka jewel. And Jambavan, in his righteousness, refused to return what he believed was won fairly.
So there was a duel.
And she hated duels.
She would sit by the cave’s entrance, ear pressed to stone, listening to their bodies crash like gods striking drums. Her mother begged her to leave it alone.
“It is between kings,” she had said. But Jambavati knew better. Something was shifting. Something old was breaking open.
On the twenty-second day, the mountain went silent.
She did not breathe.
Then, he emerged.
He was limping. Blood on his brow. His tunic torn, chest rising like thunder.
And behind him, her father, slower, older, defeated, but bowing. Not in shame, but in reverence.
"We failed to recognise him. He is the one we waited for." Jambavati didn't understand her father's words. Her father had been waiting for Shri Rama. Was Dvarakadhisha Shri Rama?
Her father had described Shri Rama as strong, powerful, saintly, and with the same complexion as the dark blue clouds.
Krishna matched those. Was he Shri Rama? What were the odds?
"Please accept my daughter as your wife, Shyamaa," her father spoke, placing her palms in his.
I am being married?
His eyes were dark, yet so peaceful. She was stuck in the infinite loop of his eyes.
How can one be so pretty?
Their marriage was not a grand fest - it was peaceful one. Just birdsong and the distant rush of a waterfall.
She always wanted her wedding to be like that. No crowds, no jewels, no lavishness. Just him, her, and nature as their witness.
The only decoration that adorned the sacred fire was the soft glow of the sun filtering through the canopy above.
Krishna stood beside her, his dark eyes filled with the same quiet peace that filled the air around them. He was not the playful, mischievous Krishna that everyone spoke of. No. This was the Krishna she had always known in the depths of her soul; the one who was both a warrior and a sage, a lover and a teacher.
His presence was not overwhelming, but it was all-encompassing.
"I’ve always believed," he continued, his voice low, the words like a secret shared only between them, "that trust isn’t just a bond between two people. It is the foundation of everything. It’s what makes the world turn, what makes the heart beat, what makes the stars fall into place. Without it... nothing works."
She first fell in love with him when he walked out of the cave, all sweaty and tired. The second time was when he spoke to her for the first time.
His hand brushed against hers, and in the gentle press of his fingers, she felt everything he had just said. She didn’t need to speak. There was nothing more to say.
In the space between them, everything she had ever needed was there. And for the first time in her life, she knew with quiet certainty. This was it.
She was about to question her father's decision. But her father was a mountain, and she couldn't condemn one. She was glad she didn’t question him.
She was one who found peace in silence. And he made her find love in silence.
Marrying Krishna was something she could only dream of when her friends spoke of his tales. She couldn’t believe her dream was now her reality.
He was outspoken. She was shy. He was well-known. She was just the daughter of a bear king.
They were polar opposites, yet they were perfect. They understood each other even without a word being said.
“Even I believe so, Swami,” Jambavati spoke for the first time. The calm, shy princess of Jambavan smiled at Krishna and stared into his dark eyes with quiet confidence.
The marriage was quick. The bonding between two souls was also quick. Afterall they were destined for eachother.
To Krishna, she was a jewel more precious than the Syamantaka Mani, his Jambavati. One he would protect with his very life.
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