Princess Aarushi stepped lightly across the garden, the early morning sun bathing the lush greenery in golden light. Her smile was bright as she listened to the melodic sound of birds and the laughter from the palace halls behind her. To the world, she was a princess—beautiful, brave, and the heart of her family. But here, in the quiet solace of the garden, she was simply Aarushi.
Beside her walked Maya, her closest friend. Though a slave by title, their bond ran deeper than most sisters.
“Maya,” Aarushi began, her voice playful, “what mischief do you think my brothers are up to today?”
Maya grinned, eyes glinting with knowing mischief of her own. “They will undoubtedly try to outdo themselves for the festival, but it is you, my princess, who holds the reins of their madness.”
Aarushi laughed softly, a sound as light as the breeze. "If only they would listen to me."
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of her grandmother’s voice calling out from the palace.
“Aarushi, my dear! Come quickly! Your brothers need you,” Grandmother Rani called, her tone both fond and exasperated.
Aarushi sighed, glancing at Maya. “And so it begins.” She reached for her friend’s hand. “Come, let’s not keep them waiting.”
On the other side of the world, in a kingdom far harsher, King Zaheer stood in the midst of his training grounds. The clang of steel echoed through the air as he sparred with his brother Malik. Every strike, every step, was calculated—no movement wasted.
Zaheer, with his sharp gaze and hardened expression, embodied the weight of his kingdom. Raised in a world of endless battles and betrayals, he knew only strength. It was his shield and his weapon.
“You’ve grown stronger,” Malik remarked as they paused, wiping the sweat from his brow. “No one can challenge you now.”
Zaheer’s gaze never wavered, his voice cold. “Strength is survival, Malik. Those who cannot fight fall.”
Malik looked at his brother with a mixture of admiration and concern. “And peace? Will we never know it?”
Zaheer sheathed his sword, turning his back on Malik to look out over the vast expanse of his kingdom. “Peace is an illusion. Power is the only truth.”
Malik fell silent. He knew better than to argue. Zaheer’s ambition was like a fire that consumed everything in its path. And the next kingdom in that path would fall, just like the rest.
Inside the grand dining hall of Aarushi’s palace, the royal family gathered for the evening meal. The atmosphere was warm, filled with laughter and love. Aarushi’s brothers—Prince Arjun, Kiran, Yash, and Dev—joked loudly about the upcoming festival, each one teasing her about the number of suitors who would flock to her.
“Aarushi, are you ready for the festival?” Prince Arjun asked, grinning. “I hear half the kingdom’s princes are eager to ask for your hand.”
Aarushi rolled her eyes. “I’ll leave them disappointed. My heart belongs to this kingdom, not to men who think they can win me over with titles and empty words.”
Her mother, Queen Meera, looked at her daughter with a gentle smile. “You speak like a true queen, my dear, but remember—love and duty can go hand in hand.”
Aarushi’s expression softened. Before she could reply, the doors to the hall swung open, and a palace guard entered hurriedly.
“Your Majesty,” he addressed King Virendra, his voice urgent, “a message has arrived from King Zaheer.”
The name sent a ripple of unease through the room. Silence fell as all eyes turned to the king. Aarushi felt her heart tighten, a sense of dread creeping over her.
King Virendra’s face grew tense as he took the scroll from the guard. He knew all too well the reputation of King Zaheer—the ruthless ruler who had never lost a battle and who sought to conquer all that lay before him.
Aarushi exchanged a glance with her mother, the unspoken fear settling between them. Their world was one of peace, but the shadow of war loomed ever closer.