Before Payal could gather her thoughts, darkness overcame her once again. It wasn't her fault; her body was simply too weak after all she'd endured. She had no idea what happened next—her senses drifted and faded, leaving her lost in a fog of exhaustion.
When she next stirred, it was as if waking from a heavy, dreamless sleep. She found herself lying on a bed—soft, warm, and unfamiliar. The room around her radiated opulence; every detail screamed of expense and refinement, from silken sheets to ornate golden fixtures. She blinked, struggling to make sense of her new surroundings. This place was nothing like the cold, harsh space she'd known before.
As she sat up, still groggy, the door to the room creaked open. A woman entered, her posture stiff and gaze sharp. "You're awake. Any discomfort?" she asked, her voice cold and formal. The words made Payal tense, as if she was being evaluated.
Suddenly, another woman appeared behind her, softer in her approach. "Mary, don't be so harsh—you'll scare her," she scolded lightly. Turning to Payal, she offered a gentler smile. "Sorry, dear. Mary's just worried about you," she explained. "You've been weak since your arrival," she added with genuine concern. "Our lord wishes to meet you. Please, get ready—I'll escort you to the dining hall."
Payal nodded, her mind a jumble of confusion. She felt as though she was losing herself, her memories and reality blurring with every new revelation. The luxury of the room was overwhelming, but it offered little comfort in the face of so many unknowns.
Payal moved stiffly, guided by the gentle woman down a gilded hallway that seemed to stretch on forever. With each step, her senses drank in her surroundings—the faint scent of sandalwood lingering in the air, the sound of her soft slippers against the polished marble, and the distant flicker of golden candlelight that made the space both inviting and almost dreamlike.
Her mind was full of questions and doubts. Am I truly safe here? Why have I been summoned? She clenched her hands on the silk fabric of her borrowed dress, fingers shaking.
The cold, strict woman—Mary—walked ahead, her every motion precise and purposeful. "The lord doesn't like to be kept waiting," she said curtly. Payal swallowed nervously; the tension thickened with each word not spoken.
The gentler woman smiled reassuringly. "It's natural to feel overwhelmed. Take a deep breath; you've come a long way." Her softness was a balm, though it didn't erase the nervous flutter in Payal's chest.
The doors to the dining hall swung open, revealing a long table set with extravagant dishes and glimmering crystal. At its head sat a man with an air of command—a presence so intense it seemed to fill the room. His eyes, sharp and observant, locked onto Payal as she entered.
Silence stretched, broken only by the sound of silverware being set down—purposefully, almost ominously.
"Welcome," the lord intoned, his voice rich and even. "I trust you're recovering well?"
Payal hesitated, searching for words. The opulence of the hall and the scrutiny of so many eyes made her feel exposed. "I—yes, thank you," she replied quietly, forcing herself to meet his gaze.
The lord's lips curled, perhaps amused by her discomfort. "There are many things you must learn about this place, and your new life here." His words hinted at secrets held just out of reach.
Mary shifted, clearing her throat. "If you need anything, speak with me or Sara." Her voice was formal, but even she glanced at Payal with a flicker of concern.
Sara—the gentler woman—leaned close and whispered, "If you wish, I'll stay with you."
Payal nodded, grateful for even one person who could assure her, as she prepared to face whatever awaited her in this beautiful, unfamiliar world.
The lord's gaze lingered on Mary and Sara, his authority absolute.
"Mary, Sara, I trust you understand your responsibility. Until the marriage, you will oversee her every need. As my future daughter-in-law, she must be prepared for her role—dignified, gracious, and well-versed in every tradition of this house."
Mary bowed her head respectfully. "Yes, my lord. She will receive the finest instruction. We will ensure she is a suitable fiancée and a worthy wife for your son's"
Sara's eyes were gentle but determined. "We'll attend to her education, etiquette, and daily care. She will learn household management, court manners, and the customs expected of our family."
The lord's tone left no doubt. "I expect nothing less than perfection. The reputation of this house will be entrusted to her. Make her ready for her place in the family and society. I do not wish to repeat myself."
Payal felt the gravity of her new role settling over her. She was no longer just a ....; she was to become part of their noble lineage—a future daughter-in-law charged with representing, maintaining, and protecting the legacy of the family. Under Mary's stern guidance and Sara's gentle support, her days would be filled with lessons on running a household, displaying hospitality, managing attendants, and preserving the dignity and prestige of her future family.
Amidst her anxiety, Payal sensed she was at the threshold of a life-changing journey, tasked to become the model wife, daughter-in-law, and lady of the house.
Payal's mind raced, overwhelmed by everything she was told and the strange customs she was expected to accept. She felt tangled in a mess she couldn't fully grasp.
Her voice trembled, barely above a whisper, "Wait… the son… is he saying I'm going to marry more than one man? Or is this just my imagination? Am I losing my mind?"
Her confusion wasn't unfounded. In many worlds, the idea of a woman marrying multiple men was unheard of, even taboo. But here, the customs were different—there existed a practice called fraternal polyandry, where a woman married brothers, keeping family lands intact and avoiding division of inheritance. It was rare in most cultures but common among certain royal or noble families seeking to strengthen alliances and protect their lineage.
The thought of sharing her heart and life with more than one person was dizzying, frightening even. The son she would marry wasn't just one man, it seemed, but several brothers—an arrangement strange to her but accepted here as practical and beneficial.
She struggled to reconcile her own beliefs and desires with the harsh realities unfolding around her. Was this her fate—to become the daughter-in-law bound to a family by not one, but many bonds?