Published on:- 8/1/25 [Wednesday]
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"चलती हैं साँसे पहले से ज़्यादा
पहले से ज़्यादा दिल ठहरने लगा"

...

"Kshama kijiyega, Yuvraj! Stithi hi aisi hai. Rajkumari... Rajkumari ki tabiyat bahut kharab ho gayi hai".

the maid said as her voice was trembling with fear. She bowed deeply, her forehead touching the floor in a gesture of deep respect and concern.

Shivaal's heart skipped a beat. The warmth from the sun that had briefly comforted him now seemed distant, replaced by a cold grip of fear and anxiety. His mind raced, and his entire body stiffened as the gravity of the situation hit him like a storm.

Without a word, he turned sharply and his eyes were no longer on the map but fixed on the door. His focus shifted entirely and his instincts pulled him toward Samanvitha.

Every second felt like a lifetime as he hurriedly made his way through the halls and the sound of his footsteps were echoing in the quiet morning.

At this moment, the kingdom, the political unrest, the demands from Varnanpura - none of it mattered now.

The only thing that mattered was her, Samanvitha Gayasen.

Shivaal's mind was clouded with a storm of fear. He couldn't allow anything to happen to Samanvitha. He couldn't lose her.

'Why?'

'Why was his heart restless and pounding frantically inside his chest?'

He had no answer to these questions and he knew that he wanted her all fine and healthy.

Shivaal approached the Sheesh Mahal and his footsteps quickened while his heart was pounding with a mixture of fear and urgency.

The sun's rays reflected off the mirrored walls, casting fleeting glimmers of light, but none of it eased the growing dread in Shivaal's chest.

Shivaal entered the chamber and the air inside was heavy, almost suffocating and the sight before him made his breath hitch.

Samanvitha's body was trembling uncontrollably on the imperial bed, her frail form covered with a silk blanket.

Her face was pale and her breathing was shallow. The once vibrant glow she carried was now replaced by a ghostly pallor.

Beside her, another maid sat by her bedside, gently trying to hold her body.

The imperial physician was standing near the bedside who looked up as Shivaal entered as his expression was grim. He bowed respectfully but didn't waste time with formalities.

"Yuvraj," the doctor began as his voice was steady but serious, "Rajkumari ki tabiyat kharab ho gayi hai. Aarambh me laga jaisi ki wo thik ho rahi hai lekin ek nayi sangharsh shuru ho gayi hai. Inka pura shareer thanda pad chuka hai".

Shivaal approached the bed as his red-rimmed eyes filled with worry as he took in the sight of her fragile trembling state. His hand trembled slightly as he reached out to gently touch her hand.

It felt cold.... too cold.

"Jo bhi karna hai wo karo, mujhe laagat ya prayaas ki parvah nahin hai. Rajkumari ko thik hona hi chahiye" Shivaal said in his quiet but commanding voice.

His gaze never left her face, as if requesting her to wake up.

The doctor nodded. "Main apna sarvashreshth prayaash karunga, Yuvraj, lekin Rajkumari aushadhi nahi pee pa rahi hai. Aushadhi muh me jatey hi woh vaman kar de rahi hai. Ye aushadhi inhe thik hone me sahayak hai, parantu..... Aisa hi chalta raha to main kuch nahi kar paunga".

Shivaal clenched his jaw, his mind racing. Only one thought was floating in his head. He couldn't afford to lose her. Not now, not ever. His gaze softened as he leaned closer to Samanvitha, his voice a low murmur meant only for her.

"Tumhe ladna hoga, Samanvitha. Tum ek yoddha ho aur yoddha apni akhiri saans tak ladta hai", Shivaal said as he moved back.

"Ye hai wo aushadhi?", Shivaal questioned the imperial physician who nodded his head and responded quickly, "Ji Yuvraj".

Shivaal took the medicine and poured his mouth and the next second, he moved closer to her, leaning on her face, while grabbing her jaw, put his mouth on her mouth and shoved all the medicine in it.

The loyal maids, servants and the imperial physician stood frozen in their place. They quickly bowed their heads and did not dare to look up.

Shivaal did not pay attention to his actions and the surroundings as he did not move away until the medicine flowed directly through the throat to the stomach.

The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the faint sounds of her breathing and soft, slow gulps.

Shivaal turned to the doctor and the servants.

"Ekaant," he ordered and his tone held no argument.

"Ek shabd bhi bahar nahi jana chahiye. Warna meri talwar hogi aur tumhara sar", Shivaal said and his tone was cold, words were clearly threatful.

The maids and the doctor exchanged nervous glances as they obeyed and quietly left the room. The door of the chamber was locked from outside.

The sunlight streaming through the mirrored walls illuminated the room, but all he could focus on was her trembling cold body.

His usually steady demeanor was crumbling as he watched her cold shaking body on the imperial bed.

Her delicate features were pale and her lips were almost colorless, and her chest rose and fell with labored breaths.

For the first time in years, Shivaal felt helpless. His hands, usually steady in battle and unwavering in the face of political turmoil, now trembled as they brushed a strand of hair from her face.

"Itne sundar se mukh pe ye lakeeren sobha nahi deti. Mano, ek daag sa ho".

He said as he couldn't help but think of the moments they had shared - her taunts, her mocks, the fire in her eyes when she challenged him, her stubbornness, her strength and the way she called herself YUVRAJ, the way she fought back with him and the way she talked and acted like a man. She had no ounce of feminine in her but still she had a magic in her that magic she did on and softened his hardened heart.

The reflections from the mirrors danced around them, but Shivaal's world was dark and was centered entirely on her fragile form.

The room was silent, save for the soft sound of her labored breathing. He felt a storm was raging inside him.

Without hesitation, he began unbuttoning his tunic, letting the royal fabric fall to the floor. His armor and adornments followed and were discarded in a pile.

Stripped of his royal attire. He kept only his lower undergarment as his toned, battle-scarred chest exposed to the morning light filtering through the Sheesh Mahal.

He pulled back the silk covers gently, ensuring not to disturb her fragile trembling state.

Slowly, he laid down beside her. He could feel the cold emanating from her skin, a chilling reminder of how unwell she was.

Carefully, he reached out, wrapping an arm around her thin waist, his warmth attempting to reach her.

"Kitna thanda hai apka sareer, Rajkumari," he murmured as he nestled closer and his body was radiating heat against her icy frame.

His strong arms encircled her gently and held her as if shielding her from the darkness that seemed to surround her. His head rested lightly on the pillow beside hers, their faces only inches apart.

Shivaal's heart ached as he watched her while his hand was moving to lightly brush her hair away from her face.

He closed his eyes and his forehead touched hers as he whispered, "Yuvraj Shivaal Samaiyar ko apne chhua hai, Rajkumari Samanvitha. Zimmedari to leni padegi. Kyunki aaj ke bad koi aur mujhe nahi chhu sakta. Aaj ke bad apko bhi koi aur nahi chhune ka sonch sakta hai".

He talked in a time as if his entire world was in his arms, fragile and precious. He held her close and the rhythm of her faint breaths were tangled with him.

For the first time in years, the mighty prince allowed himself to surrender, let someone touch him - and that someone was a woman, his enemy.

Crown Princess of Rajdhara Kingdom.

Shivaal felt a soft stir against his body, pulling him from the haze of his thoughts. Samanvitha who was still unconscious, had instinctively moved closer to him.

Her delicate frame pressed against his firm chest, her soft breaths warm against his skin. Her hands grazed his torso as if searching for warmth while her face was nuzzling into the hollow of his neck.

Her legs tangled with his, and he instinctively tightened his hold, pulling her even closer.

The intimate posture left little space between them. Her head nestled under his chin and her soft hair was brushing against his jaw.

Her delicate form moved against him, seeking comfort like a fragile kitten seeking warmth.

Shivaal glanced down at her and his expression softened despite the tension that had gripped him all morning.

He couldn't help but chuckle softly, his voice low and tender as he murmured, "Ye bilautee kitni pyari hai."

His words carried affection, a rare glimpse of the warmth he reserved only for her.

Samanvitha stirred again, her soft, small breasts were brushing against his naked, hard masculine chest, which rose and fell in sync with hers.

Her fragile body felt even smaller against his broad frame, and he couldn't ignore the way her movements caused her soft curves to press against him.

Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, pressed against his, sending an unspoken wave of protectiveness through him.

Shivaal's hand moved instinctively, brushing her back gently as though to soothe her subconscious restlessness. His fingers trailed lightly, hesitant yet unable to resist the need to comfort her.

"Samanvitha," he whispered, as he gazed at her serene and innocent face.

She seemed so vulnerable, so delicate, and yet there was a strength in her even in this state - something that drew him to her like no other.

For a fleeting moment, all the chaos and responsibilities that awaited him beyond the Sheesh Mahal faded into nothing.

All that mattered was the woman in his arms, the one who unknowingly claimed his heart and soul.

Shivaal's gaze lingered on Samanvitha's face and her fragile beauty was pulling at his heart.

Her lips were pale, her skin was cool against his. Without thinking, as though driven by instinct, he leaned closer while his breath was brushing against her cheek.

His lips gently met hers. It was soft and lingering, as though trying to pass some of his warmth into her.

It wasn't a kiss of passion but one of desperation and love, a silent plea for her to return to him.

The touch sent a surge of heat through his body, his own temperature rising in response to the closeness.

He pulled back slightly, only to press his lips to her jawline, trailing soft, lingering kisses down to the curve of her neck.

His warmth began to envelop, the heat of his body combating the coldness of hers.

Shivaal knew what he was doing and why he was doing.

He was deliberately touching her, that was increasing his body heat that was enough for her to take and threw away the coldness out of her bones.

"Le lo, Samanvitha," he whispered against her skin. "Meri ye garmi, meri ye Shakti... Ye mera sareer... Sab tumhe de raha hu".

As if responding to his silent prayers, her body seemed to react ever so faintly. A soft sigh escaped her lips, and her breathing, though still weak, became steadier.

Encouraged, Shivaal held her even closer, his forehead pressing gently against hers.

The warmth they shared wasn't just physical - it was a connection, a bond that went beyond words.

Shivaal could feel it, a spark of hope igniting in his chest. He wouldn't stop, wouldn't let go, not until she opened her eyes and fought back with him.

Shivaal's breathing deepened as he looked at her delicate face, her soft lips slightly parted as though inviting him closer.

A wave of unspoken emotion again surged within him - a mixture of longing, desperation, and an overpowering need to be closer to her.

Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers once more, but this time, the kiss lingered, deeper and more intimate. He poured his warmth into her, willing her to feel the fire in him, the strength he was ready to give her.

His hand cupped her cheek and his thumb was brushing softly against her skin as he tilted her head to deepen the connection.

As he pulled away from her lips, he kissed her jaw as his lips were trailing down to her neck.

His kisses were slow, reverent, yet filled with a simmering intensity that he couldn't suppress. His hand slid down her side, holding her closer, feeling the softness of her curves against him.

Her fragile frame molded into his, her chest rising and falling against his as he pressed her tighter to his body.

Her breaths, faint and uneven, brushed against his bare skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

"Samanvitha," he whispered against her neck, his voice husky and low, laden with emotion. "Main nahi janta hu ki main kya aur kyun kar raha hu".

His hand tangled in her hair as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in.

Her faint scent, though muted, was enough to stir his heart. He kissed her shoulder, his lips lingering as though afraid to part from her even for a moment.

"Parantu, jo bhi kar raha hun, sirf tumhare liye kar raha hu".

His warmth surrounded her entirely now, their bodies pressed so closely that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. Her soft curves fit against him perfectly, and the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest sent waves of longing through him.

Unable to stop himself, his lips found hers again, his kisses growing more fervent, as though trying to draw her back to him through sheer force of will. He whispered her name against her lips, his voice trembling, his heart completely exposed.

Shivaal held her as though she was his lifeline, his strong arms wrapped protectively around her fragile body.

"Ye jo apki khusboo hai naa, ek itra hai jo mujhe madhosh kar raha hai... Apka ye ITRA, mera ek junoon bante ja raha hai".

His warmth, his kisses, and his whispered words carried a silent promise- he would fight the world, fate, and even the gods to keep her with him.

It was also showing his hidden and slow obsession for her.

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Thank you
ShineeSunshine ♥️