kingdom of hearts | sumellika

• chapter eight •

Her time in his kingdom passed quickly and before they knew it a month had passed.

Madhuri stood patiently, as his mother bustled around. She looked down at her bangles when his mother placed her hand on the Princess' head affectionately.

"May you be blessed, daughter!" the Queen gushed. "Amar will surely be visiting your kingdom too. We look forward to seeing you again."

"Same here, mata," Madhuri said, with a polite smile on her face.

Amar's mother had insisted that the Princess would call her as 'mata' instead of 'the Queen' or 'Your Majesty.'

"Bid farewell to Amar too," the Queen continued. "He'll miss you."

Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink when she heard the words, he'll miss you. She gave the Queen a subtle nod, then went to search for him.

"Princess Madhuri?" He said, looking at her. In his hands was a piece of paper. "Hello."

"Hello," she said. "I came to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" He frowned then sighed. "I forgot that you were leaving today."

She smiled. "Oh."

He then clutched the paper that he was holding. "Uh, this is for you," he said, walking towards her nervously.

He numbly noticed that it seemed as if she was hiding something in her hands, in such a way that he couldn't see what it was.

She gave him a confused expression as he urged her to see it. Madhuri took the paper from him and was astonished to see a portrait of her on it. Amar had managed to depict every single feature of her.

"This is beautiful!" She exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise. "But why did you paint this?"

He shrugged. "I wanted to give you something...as a token of our friendship before you left this kingdom," he replied.

"That's very sweet of you, Amar," she said, with a look of appreciation on her face. "And you told me that you weren't a good artist?"

Amar rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I still think that I'm not a good artist," he said.

"That's rubbish!" She said, waving her hand dismissively. "You're amazing at painting."

"I'm glad you liked it," he said, smiling.

She nodded. "But by the time you come to visit my kingdom, because we know that my mother will tell you to, I want to read your writing," Madhuri said.

He stiffened. "I'm not sure if that will be possible..." he mumbled, then looked at her. "But I will try."

"And this? This is for you," Madhuri said, handing him a wooden flute, wrapped with blue strips of cloth. Instead of pearls hanging from it, like in the flute that Amar had, it was a peacock feather.

An involuntary smile sneaked its way up his face, as he recalled what he had said to her before, when she asked him what his favorite color was.

"Blue, like the color of clouds on a stormy night," he had replied.

And the color of the strips of cloth was that very same shade of blue. He also liked the subtle mention of Lord Krishna with the peacock feather.

His olive green eyes widened. "What is this, Madhuri?" He asked. "D-did you make it?"

She gave him a look that answered an affirmative yes. "I know that it isn't as pretty as the one you have, but I tried to make something that you'll like," she replied.