shapby

Title: The Princess and I
Rating: T
Word Count: 6,992
Settings: Ancient Tarumanagara, West Java and Srivijaya, Sumatra
Characters: Dapunta Hyang Sri Jayanaga, Sobakancana
Notes: This is my very first attempt on historical romance. I have done research, but the depiction throughout the story might not be 100% accurate. Please note that this is basically a romance story with a historical twist, NOT a history tale with a romantic twist. This is a rough draft.
Chapter 1: Uploading MF
 
Preview:

The Princess and I

He had only traveled to the land of Jawa once before: that was more than a decade ago, when he was still a mere kid, trailing along the troops from the land of Swarna to perform a salute to the king of Taruma. Back then, he hadn’t really understood the importance of the journey, or the importance of his own existence, and he had enjoyed the escape from his normal daily routines for more than a couple months. He had taken in the various scenes throughout the journey and he had explored the plains of Jawa that were so different from the dense forests of Swarna. But then, after returning to Swarna, he came to know what the journey had meant to him, to Taruma, to the people and suddenly the idea of coming to Jawa again didn’t seem so interesting anymore.

 Even so, there he was, once again, standing among the tall grass, on the famous prairies of Jawa.

 Jayanaga looked at the heavens above and sighed. That journey he took more than a decade ago finally came down to this: another journey to Bhumi Jawa, to fulfill the promise made in the old days.

 It was common, more than common—it was a tradition—for the descendants of the royal family to be betrothed to important figures: figures with status, figures with land, figures with money, figures with brain. While he, Jayanaga, was not a direct descendant of any royal family, he was everything of the latter. Appointed as a representative of Swarna, he governed a patch of land on that other island, which financially was much wealthier than Jawa, and as the public knew, he was the leader of a throng of strong men throughout Swarna. So to a man with such standing, the king of Taruma made a kind, generous offer: the king betrothed his younger daughter to Jayanaga. Years ago. Before he even understood what the word betrothed meant.

Now, Jayanaga wasn’t a picky man. In fact, he was very easy-going; if he had a lovely bride waiting for him somewhere, why, wouldn’t that be nice? And, not to mention, very convenient. It would keep other offers at bay, since of course, that lovely bride happened to be the king’s daughter, so no one would dare usurp the betrothal and well, Jayanaga would be spared the trouble seeking for a wife. That, have said, if the bride was a lovely, obedient thing.

Apparently, according to the rumors he heard, and according to the curt briefing given directly by the king earlier that morning, his so-called bride was a bit different from the usual ladies fluttering about the royal court. The king had specifically used the term different, with a slight emphasize on the word and a small tilt of the head while mentioning it; obviously, he was trying to describe his daughter in a good way without having to reveal too much about the girl’s particular idiosyncrasies. Right after the king pronounced the word, the ladies of court flushed as if it were something embarrassing (or terrifying?—Jayanaga couldn’t tell) while the maids covered their lips with their palms, holding back laughter.

Well.

Well, that left much to imagine about, thought Jayanaga as he stared down the path of tall grass in front of him. Wading through the grass, Jayanaga brushed aside several grains that stuck to the folds of his sarung and wondered. His fingers picked at his black vest then scratched a spot on his bare arms that weren’t particularly itchy. He let a lock of his fringe fumble out from the tight knot of hair at the back of his head as he continued trying to picture his future bride in his mind.

Could it be that the king meant that the princess’ physical appearance was a bit different from the majority? As far as Jayanaga knew, the women of Jawa were commonly brown-skinned, due to long exposure to direct sunlight, with relatively wavy hair. From what Jayanaga observed, most of them were quite slim—the thought of an overweight bride came to Jayanaga’s mind; he immediately shrugged it off: he didn’t mind a fat bride at all, as long as that meant she could cook well. Perhaps what the king meant was an impotent bride? Jayanaga nearly jumped at the sudden thought—he needed offspring, he was expected to continue his family’s legacy—but then realized, the king would need descendants on Swarna as well, so the probability of the princess being infertile could be assumed nil. So what exactly was this difference that the king thought to be so important he needed to mention it to Jayanaga beforehand?

Jayanaga looked about. He stood at the top of a small hill, facing the vast lands of Taruma. To his right was the deep forest; on his left were the highly calculated rice cultivations; and in front of him unrolled a carpet of light green grass, all the way to the horizon. He squinted slightly against the bright morning sun, before lifting his head to get a better look at the blue sky above. It was a nice morning; the breeze was perfect. If only he hadn’t had an appointed meeting with his Majesty earlier, he would’ve taken out his black steed for a long run through the prairies.

Inhaling deeply, he turned around, heading back to the grounds of the pardatuan, the king’s lair.

And nearly got run over by a wildly galloping mare.

Jayanaga stumbled back a few steps, his eyes blinked in surprise at the horse flying by. He froze at the sight, but recovered quickly enough to notice the young lady upon the wild animal, managing the reins with full control.

The lady brought her mount to a skidded halt, before glancing over her shoulder at him. Her face was round—the common shape of Taruma women—but it was the features that took Jayanaga aback. Her eyebrows were sharp, her eyes tilted and pointed at the corners, her lips firmly pressing together. She wore a normal lady-like kemben that hugged her chest tightly, but her sarung was styled in men’s fashion, allowing her to straddle her horse freely. Her straight black hair streamed down her back, loose, definitely not in court manner, but the clasped bracelet around her upper arm bore the proof of her status.

Jayanaga lifted his eyebrows in recognition. Only the members of the main royal family would wear such accessory—and thanks to the meeting he attended earlier, he was sure there was only one member of the family he had yet met.

So, this was the infamous second daughter of his Majesty’s.

“Are you alright, sir?” she called out to him, with no courtesy. She obviously thought of him as a common passerby, not as someone who was about to become her husband.

Jayanaga gave her a curt nod. “Yes, kanjeng putri, I am alright.”

The princess did not seem surprised at all at the use of title, but merely nodded. Perhaps, she was used to being recognized by complete strangers, Jayanaga thought. After all, she would have garnered quite a reputation among the people with that attitude of hers. Assured that she hadn’t injured the man, the princess went back on track and sped off down the grass trail.

May the heavens bless his soul, but Jayanaga thought the sight of the princess riding her mare was a mighty, fine one.

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