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Hello lovely people 💗

Let me clear you , the story includes the characters from royal background Yes ! But their lives are connected to this era . From 90s to 2025 this story will carry both traditions. I hope you won't be shocked as the characters use modern/English words as it is part of their lifestyle. After so much searching I have found this .

I hope you like the first chapter 😇

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Far from the noise of cities, in a land where golden sands fade into the distant watch of mountains, rises the grandeur of the Twin Palaces. Nestled between a shimmering lake on one side and sprawling gardens on the other, the palaces appear like jewels set in nature's crown. The water of the lake glitters like molten silver, carrying the reflection of domes and balconies across its calm surface, while the gardens burst with terraced lawns, flowering trees, and marble pavilions that whisper with birdsong and the laughter of children. From afar, the sight is breathtaking: ivory-white marble glowing like moonlight on one side, rose-pink sandstone burning like the first rays of dawn on the other, together forming a vision of harmony in contrast.

The Chandra Mahal, seat of the Varana Vansh, gleams with white marble walls and silvered domes that catch the sun like pearls. Its latticed balconies overlook the lake where Flowers bloom, and its mirrored halls are painted with divine frescoes that tell of devotion and valor. Corridors perfumed with sandalwood lead to shrines where queens offer their prayers at dawn, and ceilings shimmer with celestial constellations, as if the heavens themselves were invited to reside within.

Beside it stands the Surya Mahal of the Yaduvanshi Vansh, radiant in rose-pink stone crowned with golden chhatris. Its gates, carved with lions and the radiant sun, open into pillared halls hung with crimson and gold tapestries, its walls adorned with murals of warriors locked in immortal battles. The two palaces face one another across a vast courtyard, Rajya Sabha Chowk, where a fountain sings in the center and where both dynasties gather each day as though meeting at the heart of their shared soul.

Life within these walls is a rhythm of devotion, valor, and celebration. At dawn the kings walk along the lake, their robes trailing softly as they speak of alliances and dreams, while the queens light lamps in jeweled shrines, one wing dedicated to the Sun God, the other to their ancestral deities.

By noon the courtyard is alive with the sound of hoofbeats and clashing swords as princes train in polo, archery, and combat, while princesses weave garlands and sing beneath shaded pavilions, their anklets chiming like bells. As evening falls, the palaces bloom into light; every balcony glows with oil lamps, every pathway sparkles with diyas, and the air fills with the fragrance of rosewater. Musicians tune their sitars as dancers twirl in the courtyards, their anklets ringing beneath the stars while courtiers recline on carpets of silk, listening to poems of love and valor.

..

The Yaduvanshi's palace - Surya Mahal, a epitome of beauty, the ancestoral place..stood like a dream carved in stone, rising proudly on the few distance of the sea where waves sang their endless lullaby. Its golden walls shimmered under the morning sun, adorned with delicate carvings of gods, flowers, and stories of a thousand generations. The courtyards echoed with life-maids in silken attire moved gracefully with trays of fresh blossoms, soldiers' armor glistened as they marched in rhythm, and the fragrance of sandalwood drifted from every corner as if the air itself was consecrated.

Beyond the marble arches, nature bloomed in eternal harmony. The gardens stretched wide, jeweled with roses and champa flowers, where fountains whispered like poetry.

A pair of peacocks ran freely across the emerald lawns, their feathers scattering colors against the soft earth. From the banyan trees, songbirds filled the morning with melodies, while the distant sound of veena and flute blended like a hymn to the skies. Above, the heavens shone in a clear blue expanse, as if blessing the royal land with serenity.

Amidst this grandeur, within the inner chambers of the palace, laughter echoed softly-the laughter of a child. Little Prince Dhruv, barely three years old, had just begun to fill the palace halls with his innocence. His tiny footsteps, his curious eyes, and his sweet voice carried a promise, as though destiny had painted his arrival long before he was born. The palace, alive with centuries of legacy, seemed to pause and watch him-as if it knew this child's story was not his alone, but the beginning of something eternal.

Far away, unseen by mortal eyes, time itself whispered of another soul yet to arrive-Princess Dhriti, not yet born, but already written into the scrolls of fate. Like the first drop of rain promised by the cloud, her existence lingered in the unseen future, ready to complete the melody that had only just begun with Dhruv.

And so, in the palace where the sea met the sky, where music met silence, and where history awaited its new chapter-the story of Dhruv and Dhriti quietly began. A story not just of two lives, but of two destinies bound to weave love eternal.🌸

...

Two old souls who had shared a lifetime-Rajkumar Deewan and Prakriti Deewan-walked slowly through the palace garden, their steps in quiet harmony, as if the world had shrunk to just the two of them. Prakriti, aged like fine wine, retained the regal grace of a Rani Sa. Her saree shimmered with gold and silver embroidery, every motif reflecting hand-crafted mastery and the richness of Indian culture. The sunlight danced over the delicate fabric, tracing her elegant posture and illuminating the softness of her face.

Rajkumar Deewan walked beside her, wrapped in a delicate shawl, a royal walking stick in hand, yet his eyes never left her. Every glance he cast was filled with admiration and love, as if he were seeing her for the first time again. She returned his gaze with a quiet smile, their shared history evident in the gentle ease between them. Pausing at a secluded spot in the garden-a hidden corner where the flowers leaned in as if to eavesdrop-Rajkumar dismissed the attendants, insisting on a private moment where the world could wait.

"Kuch toh baat hogi humme, Rani Sa, jo aapne humse shaadi ki," he said softly, voice both confident and tender, leaning on his walking stick as his eyes lingered on her radiant face, glowing in the morning light.

Prakriti raised a brow, suppressing a laugh, and replied with mock seriousness,

"Ji nahi, aisi bhi koi khaas baat nahi thi aapme... bas humne taras kha kar haan kar di shaadi ke liye."

Handing him a cup of tea, she pressed her lips to hide the smile that threatened to escape. Rajkumar paused mid-sip, his lips curling into a chuckle that matched her laughter, creating a ripple of warmth around them.

"Taras hi sahi... par shaadi toh ho gayi, Rani Sa. Aur bacche bhi taras khate khate ho gaye," he teased, winking playfully.

Her eyes widened at the remark, a flash of mock indignation crossing her face, though the smile in her eyes betrayed her amusement. She patted the bench for him to sit closer.

"Umar ka lihaj kijiye thoda, Raja Sa... ab toh aapka pota bhi iss duniya mein aa chuka hai," she scolded lightly, yet her voice was warm, teasing, full of affection.

Rajkumar remained entirely unbothered, sipping his tea with deliberate slowness, delighting in her gentle reprimands.

"Aapke saath toh budhapa bhi tik nahi paata, Rani Sa. Har roz jawani jaise ehsaas dilati hain aap... aur aapki adaaon pe toh hum hamesha fida rahe."

He took her delicate hand in his and pressed a tender kiss onto her knuckles, the gesture soft yet brimming with centuries of devotion.

"Sharam kijiye, Raj, thodi si toh..." she murmured, withdrawing her hand, though her cheeks betrayed her. Even now, decades later, his attention made her heart race. He only chuckled, a soft, throaty sound that mingled with the breeze.

A contemplative silence fell, stretching long enough for the world to fade, leaving only the two of them. Rajkumar's gaze softened, eyes lingering on every line of her face, every silver strand in her hair. He was grateful to destiny for placing her in his life. His reign had been arduous, filled with burdens he could never have borne alone, yet she had stood unwavering, a pillar of strength and grace. Their stolen moments together had been few and fleeting, yet with each encounter, their bond had only deepened, every separation making their reunion sweeter.

Still, a quiet guilt lived in his chest-he had never been able to give her the life she deserved, never enough moments stolen from duty and crown. But she had borne every responsibility as queen, as mother, with dignity and love. Now, with the empire resting in their son Karthik's capable hands, he could finally turn to her fully. For her, he had built a sanctuary-a palace close to nature, filled with serenity, a reflection of her soul.

He lowered his head, voice thick with emotion:

"Hume maaf kijiye, Prakriti... hum kabhi aapko apna samay de nahi paaye. Ek patni ki hamesha yahi khwahish hoti hai."

A single tear traced her cheek, a silent acknowledgment of years spent together despite the challenges.

"Nahi, Raj... humne bhale hi kam samay bitaya, par woh khubsurat the. Hume aapse koi shikayat nahi," she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder.

He wrapped her in a protective embrace, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Par... hume hai, Rani Sa. Aapko ab aur zyada pyar karna hai. Shayad humne hamesha pyar toh kiya... par kabhi jata nahi paaye...ya samay ne muka nahi diya.. Ab hum bahut saare naye pal banana chahte hain... taki jab humari aakhri saans aaye, toh aapka pyar dil mein liye is duniya se jaayein."

Prakriti, understanding his longing, nodded, a soft chuckle escaping as she felt the weight of years and love in that moment.

"Aap toh bilkul pagal aashiq jaise lag rahe hain, Raja Sa..." she teased gently.

"Hum hai, Rani Sa... aapke pyar mein," he admitted, smiling warmly, and she knew she could never win a playful argument with him.

Then, with hopeful eyes, he asked:

"Mujhe aapke saath fir se shaadi karni hai, Prakriti. Karengi aap?"

She leaned closer, playful yet sincere:

"Jaise Raja Sa hukum karein."

Her teasing continued,

"Waise mujhe toh nahi lagta aapka beta aap par gaya hai. Bahut hi sanskari hai... pyaar ke maamle mein."

Rajkumar smirked knowingly:

"Woh toh hai... woh nalayak mera naam duba raha hai iss maamle mein. Mujhe laga tha love marriage karega... par aakhir hume hi uski shaadi karni padi."

Prakriti giggled, while he added with pride:

"Par mera pota Dhruv... mera naam roshan karega! Apni Rani woh khud chune ga."

"Bilkul, bilkul. Agar uske Dadu Sa uski parwarish karenge, toh mera Dhruv toh bigad hi jayega," she laughed, and Rajkumar's laughter mingled with hers, ringing through the garden like a blessing.

Their laughter echoed among the trees, as if the palace itself smiled at the love that had endured a lifetime, witnessing the promise of many more cherished moments to come.

..

"Dhruv..! Beta, ruko... mat daudao mujhe... main toh thak gayi!" Shreya huffed, clutching her saree pallu as she tried to catch her breath, chasing after her chaotic little whirlwind of a son.

Dhruv stopped in his tracks at the sound of her voice and turned around. His dimples deepened on his chubby cheeks, his tiny teeth peeking out as he broke into a radiant smile. The morning sun seemed to favor him, bathing his glowing skin in golden warmth, while his innocent eyes blinked curiously at his panting mother. Seeing her struggle, he toddled back and tugged gently at the end of her saree.

"Pena do!" he agreed with an innocent nod, his lips forming a little pout as he looked up at her. This mischievous bundle of joy had wriggled out of her arms the moment she finished bathing him-allowing only his lower clothes-while refusing to wear the small cotton kurta she held out.

"Maa..! Hum Bajrang Bali hain... hume upar kuch pehna pasand nahi!" he had declared proudly before darting out of her hold.

Shreya chuckled helplessly now as she scooped him up in her arms.

"Bhagoge toh nahi na?" she asked, her eyes narrowing playfully. At first, he shook his head in denial, making her smile with relief. But the very next second, as soon as she slipped the kurta over his head, he began nodding vigorously in agreement, making her sigh in defeat.

"Dhruv... betu... Teri maa ko bhagne ki pratiyogita nahi lagani beta... jo tum hume itna bhagate ho," she muttered in a mock complaint, chasing him once more when he wriggled free.

It was his everyday ritual. After his bath, no matter what, he would escape to the palace garden. There, among the fragrant blossoms, he would wander with wide-eyed wonder, plucking whichever flower caught his fancy. To him, every flower was the same. Two orange champa blossoms, untouched by his little hands, as if even in his innocence, some divine instinct stopped him. He walked towards the flower and plucked with a small smile like everyday.

This morning was no different. With a flower in hand, Dhruv trotted back towards his mother. His hair danced gently with the breeze, his small legs folding as he sat cross-legged before her. Shreya, still trying to catch her breath, froze when she saw what he did next.

With delicate fingers-his thumb and forefinger clutching the fragile stem-he placed the flower softly at her feet. Then, bowing his tiny head, he touched her toes with all the sincerity of a prayer. His big eyes lifted upwards, brimming with innocence, waiting for her smile.

For a heartbeat, Shreya forgot the mischief, the running, the complaints. All she saw was her son-her little boy who, in his purity, could turn even the act of mischief into an offering of love.

Dhruv never failed to bring his mother a flower every day, as if it were his sacred little ritual. But today, when he placed the bloom at her feet and bowed down, it left Shreya utterly overwhelmed.

Her eyes welled with tears as she quickly scooped her little boy into her arms, covering his chubby cheeks and forehead with endless kisses. She gently wiped away the dust smeared across his glowing face, a result of his playful wanderings in the garden.

"Yeh sab kisne sikhaya, Dhruv?" she asked softly, caressing his round cheeks with tender affection.

Dhruv paused for a thoughtful moment, his brows furrowing in concentration, before his face lit up.

"Dadu ne, Maa!" he exclaimed proudly, his excitement bubbling over.

"Accha?" Shreya asked again, tilting her head with a smile.

He nodded eagerly, his voice laced with childlike mispronunciation,

"Dadu bole... har ek Maa bhagwan hai... unki pooo-oja karni chahiye!"

Saying so, he flashed his toothy smile and planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

Shreya laughed softly and returned the kiss, but before she could pull back, Dhruv turned mischievous. With both his tiny fists, he grabbed her cheeks tightly, squeezing them with all the force his little hands could muster. He pulled and squished her face, showering her with clumsy kisses-on her cheek, her jaw, her forehead-making Shreya wince and giggle at the same time.

This was Dhruv's unique love language. Whenever affection was shown to him, he became overwhelmed and gave it back in his own fierce, messy way. Perhaps that was why his father had recently stopped kissing him altogether-having learned his lesson after a few too many cheek-squeezing "attacks."

"Rakshas ho tum, Dhruv... aise kaun karta hai?" Shreya laughed, freeing her sore cheeks and rubbing them gently against his, making him erupt into giggles.

"Papa bhi kalte hain aapke saath... maine dekha! Aur mere saath bhi..." he replied innocently, recalling the morning when he had woken up and caught his father's affection.

Shreya's eyes widened, and in mock alarm she tapped his cheek lightly.

"Badmaash! Aise baatein nahi karte... kisi ke samne kabhi mat bolna, Dhruv. Samjhe? Theek hai... mai ladoo dungi... ek extra!" she tried to distract him, desperate to erase the memory he had so innocently blurted out. Inwardly, she made a note to have a serious "lesson" with his father later.

Dhruv's eyes twinkled with mischief as he placed his demand with royal authority.

"Kaju wala chahiye!"

Shreya chuckled at his innocence-he didn't even know the difference between sweets, yet demanded with all the pride of a little prince.

"Hume niche utaroo Maa...Ashi Rani sa ke paas jaana hai," he said earnestly. Dhruv still couldn't form a word yashika so he started to call her Ashi ..his quick and easy name he thought.

With a sigh, Shreya lowered him carefully to the ground. At once, she beckoned a maid and instructed her to escort the little prince to the other side of the palace.until.she joins him in a few minutes . Dhruv, full of energy once again, trotted happily ahead-his small figure disappearing into the grand corridors, carrying the fragrance of innocence wherever he went.

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The Chandra Mahal glimmered like a jewel under the morning sun, its white marble walls bathed in golden light, reflecting grandeur and anticipation. The palace breathed with life—corridors echoed with hurried footsteps, courtyards brimmed with floral fragrance, and the sound of hammer.

Every corner bore the touch of preparation. Silken drapes were being changed, fresh garlands strung across carved arches, and fountains polished until their waters sparkled like liquid silver. Servants hurried through the hallways carrying trays of sandalwood, incense, and baskets of bright flowers, while masons worked tirelessly to perfect every carving, every mosaic—so that when the child arrived, the palace itself would stand as a blessing of beauty and purity.

But more than the bustle of the people, it was Pratap Singh Kashyap’s eagerness that made the palace thrum with joy. The king, usually solemn and regal, had transformed into an expectant father who left no stone unturned. He inspected the decorations himself, running his hands over newly embroidered curtains, instructing gardeners to add more roses near the queen’s quarters, even suggesting new frescoes depicting blessings of gods and goddesses on the walls of the nursery.

No task was too small for him; no detail escaped his eye. Where once his words commanded armies and courts, now they carried a softness, a tremor of excitement, as he asked again and again if everything was perfect. He wished that when his child opened its eyes for the first time, the world around would reflect nothing less than love, abundance, and divinity.

For Pratap Singh, this was not just preparation—it was devotion. Every flower arranged, every wall polished, every melody played was a prayer woven into the palace itself. He wanted Chandra Mahal to sing with joy, so that when the moment arrived, his child would enter not just a palace, but a sanctuary already alive with love.

..

" Kashyap Sahab!” Yashika — the Rani Sa of the Varuna Vansh — called out firmly, her voice echoing through the mahal.

Pratap instantly gulped, his throat drying at her commanding tone, and closed his eyes for a brief moment. With a composed gesture of his hand, he signaled everyone around to quietly leave them alone.

Yashika — the cherished daughter of the Rajvardhan Vansh — was a vision of beauty that seemed to flow as naturally as the river’s course or the bloom of a lotus at dawn. Her radiance was not painted by jewels or silks but born with her — untouched, effortless, and divine. Her eyes, a rare and striking shade of deep blue, gleamed like the calm horizon where the sky meets the sea, holding both gentleness and quiet power. Her features aligned in perfect harmony: a graceful face, a soft smile, and skin glowing with the warmth of nature itself.

Her slender frame carried the elegance of a queen, yet it was her presence that truly captivated hearts — serene, timeless, and unforgettable. Whether in royal adornments or in the simplest attire, Yashika’s beauty never dimmed; it was part of her very being. Now, as the beloved wife of Pratap Kashyap and the Rani Sa of the Varuna Vansh, she stood as the embodiment of both grace and strength — the most beautiful woman of her time, whose allure came not from artifice, but from the purity of her soul.

“Kya hua meri Yashi ko? Hmm?” Pratap’s voice softened as he reached to cup her cheeks, fearing he might again have to face her mood swings. But Yashika, flushed with anger, swatted his hands away. Her nose turned red, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“Aap humse bilkul pyar nahi karte, Kashyap Sahab…” she complained cutely, her voice breaking as tears threatened to fall.

Pratap pressed a hand to his chest in mock despair, trying to lighten the mood. “Yeh toh bahut bada ilzaam laga diya, Rani Sa…” he teased. Yet his attempt went in vain.

“Aap baat mat kijiye humse… hum bas yahi kehne aaye the, itna chal ke.” She turned to leave, her words laced with annoyance. But before she could take a step, Pratap caught her wrist gently, pulling her back to face him.

“Kya hua, Yashu? Ro kyu rahi ho?” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to her cheek.

Yashika pouted, her lashes wet. “Apne humare saare namkeen kahan rakh diye? Hamare kamre mein kahi nahi mil rahe… aisa lagta hai jaise iss mahal mein hume koi Rani Sa hi nahi maanta. Koi bhi… koi bhi nahi batata hume kahan rakhe gaye hain…” A lone tear slid down her cheek — her cravings now unbearable.

Pratap sighed deeply, wrapping her in his arms. His tone turned playful as he whispered, “Hamari pyaari Rani Sa… hamare hone wale bachon ki maa…” He lightly caged her in his embrace, his fingers squeezing her cheeks into a pout. “Humne toh aapke liye kiya tha… itna theekha khana accha nahi hota. Aur hume toh meetha, pyara sa baccha chahiye… na ki theekha.”

Yashika narrowed her eyes, her lashes still damp, her lips jutting out. “Hume theekha khana hai… aur aap humari ek bhi khwaish poori nahi kar rahe. Log kya-kya nahi karte apni biwi ke liye… jo pregnant hoti hai.” With that, she pushed his hands away, wrapped herself in a soft shawl, and sat cross-legged on the couch beside her.

Pratap, baffled, thought of all the preparations he had arranged for her comfort, all the efforts he made. Yet to Yashika, none of it mattered more than… namkeen. With no clue how to handle her sudden storm, he sat beside her quietly, taking her delicate hands in his and caressing her knuckles.

“Maaf kijiye… woh kya kehte hain? Haan… Sorry, Rani Sa…” he muttered sheepishly — his usual escape, that one word which always saved him.

But today, Yashika was in no mood to forgive so easily. Her heart felt too heavy. As her delivery neared, her fear grew stronger. She dreaded the scream, the piercing pain, the moment of bringing life into the world. Her thoughts overwhelmed her, dragging her back to memories of her own mother and father. “Maa-baap kya hote hain… uska ehsaas tab hota hai jab khud maa-baap bante ho,” she recalled, realizing how true it felt now.

She sniffled, her voice trembling. “Ek toh apne… hume Maa Sa ke paas jaane bhi nahi diya. Yahan humara dil baitha ja raha hai… kya hoga… hume darr lag raha hai, Pratap.”

Her words cut into his heart. Pratap pulled her tightly into his embrace, rubbing her back, though inside he was just as terrified. He wanted to be her strength, yet he himself searched for it.

Just then, the silence was broken by a cheerful voice that rang through the mahal. “Ashi Rani Sa… kahan ho?” Little Dhruv’s call echoed, his small feet pattering on the marble floors. Yashika’s face lit up instantly, while Pratap exhaled heavily, muttering under his breath with mild irritation.

“Aa gaya kabab mein haddi… iske aane se lagta hai humari Rani Sa hume hi bhool jayengi.”

Dhruv, dimples dancing on his cheeks, ran towards her. For him, Yashika was another favourite person or we may say little boy's crush— the one he adored, the one who spoiled him endlessly. Clambering clumsily onto the couch, he covered her eyes with his tiny hands. Yashika giggled, recognizing his mischief immediately. The faint fragrance of a flower he clutched reached her nostrils, soothing her senses.

“Kaun aaya? Batao!” Dhruv asked, his voice bubbling with excitement.

Yashika smiled playfully. “Arey… chor! Chor aa gaya!”

Dhruv scrunched his nose, deeply offended. “Chor nahi, Ashi Maa! Raja… Raja Bajrang Bali aaye hain!” he declared proudly.

Pratap, watching the scene unfold, couldn’t help but chuckle, though the timing of this little intruder irked him every single day. Still, he was grateful — Dhruv’s antics never failed to make his queen smile.

“Toh Raja Bajrang Bali ke paas ab time mil gaya? Mujhe laga tum bahut vyast ho, mere chhote Raja.” Yashika teased, removing his hands from her eyes and pulling him closer.

“Kisne kaha? Yeh sab jhoot bolte hain! Yeh lijiye, aapke liye…” Dhruv said proudly, handing her the flower he carried. Yashika pressed it to her nose, inhaling its fragrance before planting a tender kiss on his cheek. His eyes sparkled, and he grinned wide in return.

Then, his gaze shifted curiously to her belly. He patted it gently with his small hand and asked innocently, “Ashi Rani Sa… aapka pet toh aur bada ho gaya… ball jaisa!” Yashika burst into laughter, though a sudden kick from within made her wince softly.

Startled, Dhruv gasped. “Ashi Maa! Koi mujhe mara!”

Pratap smirked, scooping him onto his lap. “Oye! Mere bacchon ko chhuega toh yahi hoga. Door reh!” He squeezed Dhruv’s cheeks with playful force, making the boy pout.

But Pratap’s eyes softened as he gazed at Yashika’s belly. “Yahan toh humari princess hai… meri pyari si princess…” he murmured dreamily.

Yashika rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. “Mujhe toh prince chahiye. Aap toh kisi kaam ke nahi… bas naam ke prince ho.” Her words dripped with mockery, but her laughter betrayed her.

Dhruv tilted his head back and forth, observing their banter. Then, with a sudden spark of genius, he exclaimed, “Ashi aunty… aapke paas toh main hoon! Toh Pratap Uncle ko princess de do!”

Yashika laughed and scooped him into her embrace, showering him with affection, while Pratap muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

“Yeh toh sach mein bada shaatir hai… jaise rassi bhi jal gayi ho, par baal na gaya. Sabka dhyaan apni taraf kar leta hai, dusht.”

And though he complained, deep down he didn't know — this mischievous little boy would one day become the biggest source of his annoyance ..

.

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So this was the first chapter!

I HOPE YOU GUYS LOVED IT ?

YOUR FAVOURITE SCENE FROM THIS CHAPTER ?

Also hindi is not my first language , still I will try my best to include the words carefully.

Do follow me on scroll stack and on Instagram for early updates and spoilers . I'd are given below .

See you soon ♥️