The sun had just begun to rise over Devdhara, painting the sky in soft shades of gold and orange. A gentle breeze swept through the quiet streets, brushing past his face, making his hair sway lightly with it. The city was still wrapped in a faint darkness, the kind that lingers right before morning fully arrives.

He walked through the Main Market, silent and focused, while his guards stayed hidden in the shadows, their eyes scanning every corner.

He was dressed like an ordinary citizen of Devdhara, in plain, simple clothes. Yet even the modest attire couldn’t hide the sharpness of his features or the quiet strength in the way he moved. There was something about him—so striking, so effortlessly handsome, it almost felt unfair. He looked like danger wrapped in calm, someone who didn’t need royal robes to command attention.

Just as he was about to step into the palace outskirts, the sudden sound of clashing swords made him stop in his tracks.

“Sahi kiya na iss baar humne, Guruma?”

And then came the voice.

Sweet. Soft. Unbelievably melodic.

It hit him like a gentle wave—unexpected and unforgettable. It wasn’t just beautiful, it was the most beautiful voice he had ever heard. Like the first drop of rain after a drought. Like a memory you didn’t know you’d been holding onto. It wasn’t just heard—it was felt, sinking into his chest and spreading warmth through every corner of him.

For a moment, everything around him disappeared.

Before he could even think, his feet moved on their own, drawn to that voice like a moth to flame. His guards followed, silent as shadows, as he walked towards the sound that had just shifted something deep inside him.

And then… he saw her.

And for a moment...he forgot how to breathe.

There, in the middle of the old courtyard, her sword resting by her side, stood the girl whose voice had tugged at something he didn’t even know existed in him.

She stood in the soft morning light, as if the sun itself had risen just to cast its glow on her. Her braid had loosened, strands of hair falling around her face, kissed by the breeze. There was a sheen of sweat on her skin, a sword resting at her side—she looked nothing short of ethereal.

Like she didn’t belong to this world.
Like she had been carved by the gods themselves.

She wasn’t just beautiful. No—he had seen beautiful before. He had met the most stunning princesses across kingdoms—draped in silk, adorned with jewels, their smiles carefully practiced, their eyes set on him like he was the prize.

And he never looked twice.

But right now—he was the one outright staring.

Hooked. Breathless. Frozen.

She wasn’t doing anything. Just existing.
And yet, it was enough to bring silence to the storm inside him.

There was something about her. A strange kind of peace wrapped in quiet strength. The kind that made you forget where you were, made you want to stand still and just… watch.

He didn’t know her name.

But for the first time, he wanted to.

She bent down, to touch the older woman’s feet, but was stopped midway, “Vaidehi, Rajkumari hain aap,” she said, affection and concern laced in every word. “Kitni baar samjhaaya hai humne—humare pair na chhua karein.”

Vaidehi.

He stilled.

RAJKUMARI VAIDEHI.

The eldest princess of Devdhara.

A name he had only heard in passing, wrapped in hushed praise and quiet awe.

The one who stayed away from politics and power plays. The one who refused royal appearances. He had heard she was soft-spoken, almost too kind for the world she lived in. That she never liked attention. That unlike the other royals who bathed in the spotlight, she moved like a whisper—present, yet untouched.

And now, standing here in front of him—sword in hand, a smile in her voice, stardust in her gaze—she was everything he’d heard, and yet… so much more.

Something inside him shifted. Quietly. Irrevocably.

“Humne bhi aapse kitni baar kaha hai, Guruma,” she said with a slight smile in her tone, “ki aap humare maa samaan hain… adhikaar hai humara. Ise humse na cheeniye.”

He had met royalty before. The kind that demanded to be seen, noticed, obeyed.

But this one?

She didn’t need to demand anything.

She simply… was.

And for the first time in years, he found himself wanting to be seen—by her.

“Guruma, will you teach me Naadveyi Kala today?”

He stilled.

That name from her mouth.

His breath caught before he could even stop it. She had no idea what she’d just asked for. The soft innocence in her tone, the curiosity—it clashed with the lethal weight of the technique she was asking about. A technique only he had ever mastered.

Guruma blinked, slightly startled. Then she let out a small chuckle.

“You want to learn Naadveyi?” she teased lightly, brushing a strand of hair behind Vaidehi’s ear. “You’re not ready for that, child.”

Vaidehi took a small step forward, her eyes full of determination. “But I will be, won’t I?”

He watched her from the shadows—this girl with fierce eyes and a kind smile—and for the first time in a long while, something stirred in him.

Guruma smiled at her fondly. “Someday, maybe. But do you even know what you’re asking for?”

“It’s a sword move,” she said simply. “A dangerous one.”

Guruma laughed under her breath. “It’s not just dangerous, Vaidehi. It’s sacred. Powerful. Only one man in the whole of Hind has ever mastered it.”

Vaidehi’s eyebrows lifted. “Really? Who?”

“The Samrat of Hind,” Guruma said with quiet pride, her voice dropping just a touch. “He’s not just a king. He’s a warrior born. Raktaveer. He doesn’t just know battle—he breathes it.”

There was silence for a moment.

“I’ve heard Samrat Shaurya Raj Vardhan is terrifying,” Vaidehi whispered, almost as if the wind would carry her words to the wrong ears.

Guruma smiled again, this time more thoughtfully. “He’s many things. But above all, he’s unmatched when it comes to swords and battles.

There’s no style, no move, no war art he hasn’t mastered. Even Naadveyi Kala, the most lethal one.”

Hidden in the shadows, the Samrat stood motionless.

She didn’t know.
Didn’t know that the warrior she spoke of—was him.
And still, somehow, her voice saying his name made his heartbeat feel unfamiliar.

The golden light of dawn slowly crept over the courtyard, casting soft hues over the stone floor. The breeze had stilled now, as if the very air was listening in.

Guruma glanced up at the sky, her expression sobering.

“The morning’s advancing,” she said, her tone gentle but firm.

“You should return to the Mahal, Vaidehi. If anyone finds out you’ve been here—learning Shastrakala of all things—there will be questions I cannot answer.”

Vaidehi sighed, her shoulders dipping ever so slightly. “I know…”

He watched her carefully tuck her sword away, brushing the dust off her simple practice clothes. Even in the faint morning light, she looked every bit like royalty trying to hide in plain sight—and yet, she did it with such ease, such humility, that it only intrigued him more.

“Promise me, Guruma,” she said softly, her eyes turning back. “You won’t stop teaching me.”

Guruma smiled, a mix of affection and caution in her gaze. “I won’t. But we must be careful, Rajkumari. Your path isn’t just paved with swords—it’s tangled in duty.”

She nodded, lips pressed in a determined line. “Then I’ll walk both paths, Guruma. Even if it’s alone.”

From the shadows, he felt something shift in him again.

He had fought countless battles. Conquered kingdoms. But this girl… this quiet, brave soul cloaked in simplicity—she made him feel like he was standing unarmed before a storm.

He took one last look at her—still unaware of the storm she had just stirred within him.

Without a word, he turned away. The faintest smirk touched his lips, the kind that only danger wore.

She had unknowingly crossed paths with the one man the world bowed to.

And now… he wasn’t done watching.

As the light spilled across the palace walls, he disappeared into its very shadows—already planning the next time he'd see her.

This time, not as the Samrat.

But as a guard in her own palace.

____________________________

Devdhara Palace, Inner Council Chambers

The air was thick with tension.

Balraj, the wizier of Devdhara, stood frozen, his hands trembling behind his back as he kept his gaze fixed to the floor.
He was the most powerful person in Devdhara, after the king.

The grand chamber, dimly lit and lined with ancient stone pillars, echoed with silence—except for the soft, deliberate footsteps of the Beast in front of him.

He dared not look up.

Because he could feel it—the weight of his presence. The way the very air shifted around the man standing before him.

“Hum Rajkumari Saundarya ki suraksha ke liye niyukt the, sahi kaha tha na tumne?”

The voice was calm. Too calm.
Like still water just before the storm.

The Wizier swallowed hard and nodded, voice barely above a whisper.
“Jee... Samrat.”

There was a pause.

A shift in the air.

“Ab badlav chahiye.”

His words sliced through the silence.
“Humein Rajkumari Vaidehi ke nikat rakha jaaye.”

The Wizier’s eyes darted up for a moment in pure confusion, only to drop again.

Before he could muster a response, Vikram, the Samrat’s trusted general, stepped forward.

“Samrat,” he said cautiously, “Rajkumari Saundarya is closest to Maharaja Shubhjit himself. If we are to gain insight into court matters and the king’s movements, she might prove more... strategic.”

A beat passed.

The Samrat didn’t flinch. His expression unreadable, carved in stone.

“Samay aane par raajneeti bhi dekh lenge, Vikram.”

His voice was still even, but final.
“Filhaal, Rajkumari Vaidehi.”

No questions. No explanations.

The wizier bowed deeply, hiding the unease in his expression. There was nothing he could do about it, he was too intimidated by the man in front of him to not follow his orders, even if it meant betraying Devdhara, its King, its people.

Because even without a crown on his head, even cloaked in the robes of a mere soldier—the man standing before them wasn’t just royalty.

He was the Samrat of Hind.

And his word was law.

_________________________

Devdhara Palace – Mid-morning

The clack of Princess Aishwarya’s heels echoed as she strode down the corridor, her silk dupatta trailing behind her like a storm. Servants moved aside, heads bowed low. Behind her, stood Pranati, quiet and nervous, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

"Is this the kind of maid you keep, Vaidehi?"
Aishwarya snapped, not even waiting for a reply.

"I asked her to place my temple sandals out this morning. And what did she do? Ran off somewhere instead, probably chasing butterflies with you!"

Pranati looked down, guilt creeping over her face. She had stayed back to help Vaidehi with her morning prayers and forgotten the trivial task.

Before Vaidehi could speak, Aishwarya raised her chin high.

"You’ve spoiled her. Just like everything else you touch."

"Aishwarya," Vaidehi said softly, stepping forward. Her tone wasn’t sharp — it was calm, yet steady. "It was my fault. I asked her to help me. If anyone should be held accountable, it’s me."

A few passing maids paused, glancing curiously.

Aishwarya’s jaw clenched at the quiet attention. The older sister, always so serene, always so graceful — correcting her in front of others.

It stung her pride.

"You think you're better than me, don't you?" she hissed, eyes flashing. "Always pretending to be the gentle one, while making the rest of us look cruel."

She stepped closer, fury bubbling in her voice.

"You're just a shadow, Vaidehi. Forgotten by the court, forgotten by Father, hiding in your books and gardens. Don't you dare try to embarrass me again."

Vaidehi stayed still, not flinching. "That wasn't my intention."

But Aishwarya wasn’t listening anymore.

"Enough!"

Aishwarya’s hand lifted, trembling with rage, her palm arched mid-air — to slap Vaidehi.

But it never landed.

In a flash, a hand emerged from the side — firm, unrelenting, and impossibly fast — catching her wrist with such authority, it felt like the very act of raising her hand had been a mistake.

She froze.

Everyone did.

His grip wasn’t cruel, but it carried a quiet warning — the kind that sent a chill down the spine.

He looked like no ordinary guard.

He stood tall, strong, and his presence felt like it filled the whole room. His features were sharp and striking, but it wasn’t just his looks that held everyone’s attention — it was the intensity he carried.

He was impossibly handsome.

His face seemed like it was carved by the gods themselves, every feature perfect, from his strong jaw to his piercing eyes. His eyes were a deep gray, almost stormy, and when they looked at you, it felt like they could see right through you. There was a quiet power in his gaze — dangerous, yet controlled.

His dark hair fell messily, but in a way that added to his rugged charm. He wasn’t just good-looking; he was radiant — like something out of a legend.

The room fell silent, everyone staring at him, unable to look away.

He didn’t speak, but his presence was enough to make everyone nervous. He didn’t need to raise his voice to demand respect — he simply stood there, imposing, with a quiet strength that made even the bravest hesitate.

Then—

“What is going on here?”

A sharp voice rang out.

Princess Soundarya swept into the corridor, her silk trailing behind her, an edge of irritation in her gaze.

Her eyes landed on the man first. Then on his hand still clasping Aishwarya’s wrist.

“How dare you touch a Rajkumari?” she demanded, marching forward. “Who gave you that right? Do you even know who she is?”

He didn’t answer.

But his silence...
was louder than any response.

Just then, the echo of hurried footsteps broke the thick silence.

Wizier Baldev appeared at the corridor’s end, breath slightly uneven, forehead damp with sweat. His eyes fell on the tall, striking man standing before the princesses—and his steps faltered for a second. He quickly straightened his posture, but the intimidation was evident in his every movement.

" Look at the audacity of this man Baldev Ji," Soundarya complained.

“Enough, Princess Soundarya.”

Baldev's voice came out thinner than usual.
“This man... has been appointed as Rajkumari Vaidehi’s personal guard,” he announced, forcing the words out, almost like they had been rehearsed under pressure.

Gasps followed.

Vaidehi’s eyes widened. “A personal guard? Me?” she asked, almost under her breath.

A swirl of thoughts rushed through her mind. Had someone discovered her secret sword training sessions? Was this guard placed to watch her, to report back to the court?

Her hands tightened around the folds of her dupatta as she looked at the man now assigned to her. He didn’t spare her even a glance. Just stood there—silent, intimidating, his presence unsettling even the highest of ministers.

Aishwarya folded her arms, brow raised.
“A personal guard? For her?” Her laugh was low and cold. “What’s she done to deserve that? Recited a poem in the courtyard?”

Soundarya chimed in, "Why would the eldest princess, who stays away from politics and stays within the palace, need someone like him?”

“No sense wasting a skilled soldier on someone who’s barely seen in the court,” Aishwarya added cruelly.

The air shifted.

Those words hit harder than they sounded.

The man didn’t respond.

But his jaw tightened—stone-like, unyielding. His sharp features remained unreadable, but his presence suddenly felt heavier. The air around him tensed. Not threatening—but silently, coldly powerful.

Wizier Baldev quickly lowered his gaze. He didn't dare linger in the atmosphere he himself had stepped into.

He gave a short bow, as if to the man before him and stiffly nodded,

“He will report for duty from today.”
And then almost stumbled as he turned to leave, not waiting for a response.

The man stepped back, his gaze never leaving the sisters, as he silently resumed his position—unshaken, unreadable.

Vaidehi watched him from the corner of her eye, her heart pacing faster, her mind flooded with questions. Who is he? And why… me?

The grand stone corridor echoed with soft footsteps.

Vaidehi walked ahead, her posture poised, but her brows were furrowed in deep thought. Beside her, Pranati struggled to keep her voice low as she whispered hurriedly.

“Why would they assign a personal guard to you suddenly?” she asked, casting a quick glance behind at the man walking a few paces away.

Vaidehi exhaled, confused.
“I have no idea, Pranati. What if… someone found out about the sword sessions?”

“Or…” Pranati’s eyes widened dramatically. “What if they think you’re going to elope with some lover in the middle of the night?”

Vaidehi rolled her eyes.
“Be serious.”

“I am!” Pranati grinned. “You’re the most beautiful woman in this palace, Rajkumari. If I were a guard, I’d happily risk my job just to stand outside your chambers.”

They both laughed softly.

She kept turning back, stealing glances at the man walking a short distance behind them.

“He’s still there…” she whispered, nudging Vaidehi’s arm. “And my God—have you actually seen him?”

Vaidehi exhaled. “Pranati…”

“No, listen,” Pranati insisted, voice hushed but animated. “He’s... he’s something else, Vaidehi. Like—sculpted. His eyes could slice right through stone! And that calm? That quiet confidence?” She shivered a little. “Feels like he was carved by the gods themselves and sent straight to this palace.”

Vaidehi gave her a sideways glance, part amused, part disapproving.
“You’re talking about a soldier, Pranati. Try not to lose your mind.”

“A soldier?” Pranati scoffed under her breath. “That man doesn't walk like a soldier. He walks like... like he owns the ground beneath his feet.”

"You're not supposed to say that about a guard who's diligently performing his duty, Pranati."

“Guard? No, no,” Pranati grinned, tugging at Vaidehi’s arm, “This one’s something else. Those eyes? That jaw? That voice when he said ‘I’ll take my position’?” She clutched her chest dramatically. “I almost forgot how to breathe.”

Vaidehi sighed, amused .
“You’re impossible.”

Behind them, the Samrat moved with quiet grace. His face revealed no amusement—but his ears caught every word. Every glance, every whisper.

He watched her. Only her.

Vaidehi.

His eyes stayed on her—on the way she walked, with quiet dignity even when her thoughts were clouded. On how the late morning sun lit her skin in warm golds and her dupatta trailed behind her like mist. And that fragrance—soft jasmine—kept finding its way to him, making something stir deep inside his chest, drawing him towards her.

She didn’t even know what she was carrying in her—a power he had never felt  before.

She felt familiar. Dangerous. Beautiful.

As Vaidehi and Pranati reached her chambers, the soft click of the door being opened echoed in the quiet hallway. Pranati was still admiring the guard, occasionally glancing at him, though she tried to act nonchalant about it. Her thoughts clearly weren’t focused on anything but him.

“I guess this is it, then,” Vaidehi said with a sigh, her fingers lingering on the doorframe for a moment. She stepped inside, but not before casting one last puzzled glance at the man who had been following them ever since the moment he was assigned to her.

“I just... I can’t get over how he looks. He’s like the kind of man who could walk into any court and command the room. Don’t you think?”

“You should be more careful, Pranati. If he sees you looking at him like that, he might—”

Before she could finish, the guard stopped in his tracks at the entrance to the room. He didn’t step inside—his expression remained neutral, though his presence was impossible to ignore.

Vaidehi crossed her arms, stepping into the room fully and stopping in front of the window. “You can stay out here, guard,” she said, her voice still laced with confusion. “There’s no need to follow me into my private chambers.” Her eyes flicked to him, but there was no anger in her words—just a calm curiosity. “You’re dismissed. I don’t need protection here.”

The Samrat, still standing at the threshold, said nothing at first.
Instead, his eyes tracked her movements as she moved around the room.

The simplicity of the chamber was in sharp contrast to her beauty, yet somehow, it only highlighted her grace. The jasmine scent lingered in the air like a thread leading him back to her.

“I’m not used to having a bodyguard—especially one who looks like he could break down the walls of this place with just his gaze.” She sighed.

“You’re right. I doubt anyone would dare come near you. Especially when there’s a man like him keeping an eye on you.” Pranati chuckled lightly, clearly amused.

"Pranati, we need to figure out how to get him off our backs. I have my training with Guruma tomorrow, and there’s no way I’m going to be able to focus if I have him breathing down my neck.”

Pranati sat up straight, her face lit up with a mischievous grin. “Well... we could always try to sneak away. Go out to the market or something, act like we're just enjoying the day. He’ll never suspect we’re sneaking off to the training grounds to practice sword fighting.”

Vaidehi’s face brightened with the idea.

“That’s not a bad plan. We could walk through the streets of Devdhara, blend in with the crowd, and then slip away to the training grounds.”

She thought for a moment, her hand lightly tapping her chin. “But we have to make sure he doesn’t catch on. He’s got that... intensity. I don’t want him to follow us.”

Pranati nodded vigorously. “Oh, he won’t follow. Trust me. If we act casual enough, he won’t even think twice. Besides, you know the training grounds are pretty far from here, so by the time he realizes, we’ll be long gone.”

Vaidehi considered it. “You’re right. And it’s been too long since I got to talk to the people outside the palace walls. It’ll be nice to have a break from all this... watchful attention.”

(Hemlo piggies, smash the star button babies💋)

She stepped away from the window, her mind already moving into tactical mode. “Alright, we’ll do it. We’ll slip out in the morning, before anyone realizes we’re gone. But we need to make sure to keep a low profile.”

Pranati grinned. “You know I’m good at that. I’ll make sure to stick to the shadows.”

Vaidehi smiled, feeling a little better now that she had a plan. “I don’t know what’s going on, but we’ll handle it. For now, we’ll just play it cool.”

They both sat down on the bed, continuing to discuss their plans for tomorrow. Neither of them noticed the guard, standing silently by the door, his eyes unreadable, as he overheard their conversation.