The sun had begun its slow descent beyond the horizon by the time Advika Singh Rathod stepped out of her car and entered the grand yet welcoming gates of her ancestral home. The sprawling Rathod Haveli, nestled in the heart of Jaipur, carried the weight of centuries within its walls. The mansion, adorned with intricate Rajasthani carvings and grand archways, stood tall as a testament to the legacy of the Rathod bloodline—a legacy her father, Abhiveer Singh Rathod, carried with silent pride.

As soon as she stepped inside, a familiar warmth washed over her. The scent of sandalwood incense lingered in the air, mixing with the rich aroma of freshly prepared food from the kitchen.

"Didi aa gayi!" A cheerful voice rang through the hallway.

Advika smiled as Rohan, the young boy who had grown up in their household, rushed toward her with his usual excitement. Kavita, his mother and the woman who had been like family to them for years, stepped out from the kitchen with a knowing look.

"Aaram se, Rohan," Kavita chided lightly, shaking her head. "Every day you act like you haven't seen her in years."

"But I missed her!" Rohan argued, hugging Advika's arm.

Advika laughed, ruffling his hair before handing her bag to a nearby servant. "And I missed you too, champ. Now, did you do your homework or should I ask Babuji?"

The boy made a face before darting away, leaving Kavita and Advika chuckling.

"How was college, beta?" Kavita asked, wiping her hands on the end of her saree.

"Good. I got my new project today," Advika replied, stretching her arms.

Before Kavita could ask more, a deep voice interrupted them. "Advika."

She turned to see her father, Abhiveer Singh Rathod, standing in the doorway of the study. Dressed in a crisp white kurta with a navy Nehru jacket, his presence carried the same authority he had always possessed.

"Come to the dining hall. Your grandfather is waiting," he said simply before walking toward the large dining area.

Advika followed, her feet instinctively slowing down as she entered the grand dining hall. The room was a beautiful blend of modern comfort and old-world charm, with long wooden tables, brass candle holders, and paintings depicting the history of Rajasthan.

At the head of the table sat her grandfather, Alok Singh Rathod, a man whose very presence commanded respect. Even in his late seventies, he carried himself with the regal air of a king—his silver hair neatly combed back, his deep-set eyes sharp as ever.

"Aayiye, bitiya," he said with a small smile, gesturing for her to sit beside him.

The meal began, an array of traditional Rajasthani dishes spread across the table. Dal baati churma, laal maas, and fresh tandoori rotis filled their plates, served with love and care by the household staff.

As they ate, the conversation naturally drifted to history, as it often did in their home.

"Dadaji, today in class we were assigned a project on Rajasthan's hidden royal legacies," Advika began, taking a bite of her food.

Her grandfather's brows lifted in interest. "Is that so? And what have you decided to research?"

She hesitated. "I don't know yet. But... I want to find something unique. Something that isn't already in the textbooks."

Her father nodded in approval. "A historian's duty is not just to repeat history but to uncover the parts of it that have been forgotten."

Her grandfather leaned back, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Rajasthan has a long history of kingdoms that vanished from records. Many royal families lost their status after independence, but there are whispers—rumors of places where kings still rule, even if the world does not recognize them."

Advika's heart skipped a beat. "You mean... places where kings still have power?"

Her grandfather chuckled. "Power takes many forms, bitiya. Sometimes, it is not about what the world sees, but what truly exists beyond it."

His words stayed with her for the rest of the meal.

After dinner, Advika retreated to her room, her mind buzzing with possibilities.

Her room, filled with bookshelves stacked with history books and research papers, had always been her sanctuary. She settled onto her desk, flipping open her laptop.

"A place where kings still rule..." she murmured, typing keywords into the search bar.

Her fingers moved swiftly as she searched for lost dynasties, hidden kingdoms, anything that might lead her to something truly undiscovered. Most results were predictable—old forts, former royal families now reduced to ceremonial titles, nothing that indicated real power.

Her frustration grew as she scrolled through article after article.

Just as she was about to close her laptop, a particular mention caught her eye.

A whispered legend. A name she had never seen before.

Rathoregarh.

Her breath hitched.

The page barely had any information. No records, no official mentions—just a passing reference in a decade-old article that claimed a royal bloodline still ruled from the shadows, untouched by modern governance.

A hidden kingdom.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she clicked on the link, only to find it led to a dead page—as if someone had erased the information.

Her pulse quickened. This was it.

This was what she had been looking for.

And little did she know... this was what had been waiting for her all along.

———

The Shekhawat mansion was a place where tradition and discipline walked hand in hand. Unlike the Rathod Haveli, which exuded warmth, the Shekhawat estate held a different kind of presence—one that commanded respect, one that carried the weight of centuries of rulership and power.

As the sun dipped behind the desert horizon, the kitchen was already alive with activity. The aroma of freshly prepared Rajasthani delicacies wafted through the corridors as the women of the household busied themselves with the final preparations for dinner.

Meera Singh Shekhawat, Rajveer's mother, stood near the stove, watching over the cooks as they prepared the evening meal. Despite being a woman of wealth and power, she never shied away from personally ensuring that her family's meals were made to perfection. With her sharp features, elegant posture, and piercing gaze, she was a woman who commanded both admiration and fear.

At her side was Tara Singh Shekhawat, Rajveer's aunt—the wife of his father's younger brother, Abhimanyu Singh Shekhawat. Tara, though slightly younger than Meera, had a softer demeanor, her kindness evident in her eyes. Yet, behind that softness lay a strength that had helped her navigate the complexities of the Shekhawat family.

The women worked in quiet harmony, but soon, Meera turned to one of the housemaids.

"Go and call the men. Dinner is ready."

Within moments, the men of the Shekhawat family entered the grand dining hall.

Ranvijay Singh Shekhawat, Rajveer's father, was the first to take his seat at the long table. His presence alone was enough to still a room—his salt-and-pepper beard, his strong, chiseled features, and the air of authority he carried made it evident that he was once a ruler in his own right.

Beside him sat Abhimanyu Singh Shekhawat, his younger brother. Though he shared his brother's sharp features, there was a subtle difference—where Ranvijay was firm and calculating, Abhimanyu carried a more diplomatic nature. His wife, Tara, took her place beside him. 

At the head of the table, Amar Singh Shekhawat, the patriarch of the family, waited patiently. Despite his age, his presence was just as commanding as his son's. His silver hair and the deep lines on his face spoke of years of experience, battles fought—both on the battlefield and within the complexities of power.

But the table remained incomplete.

No one touched their food.

Because Rajveer was not there.

A moment of silence settled over the room before Meera finally spoke, her voice firm yet carrying an undertone of affection.

"Where is Rajveer?"

As if on cue, the sound of measured footsteps echoed down the hall.

Rajveer Singh Shekhawat entered, his imposing figure commanding immediate attention. Dressed in a crisp white kurta with gold embroidery, his tall frame moved with the kind of silent authority that came naturally to kings.

His piercing dark eyes scanned the room before he walked to his seat at the right of his grandfather. As soon as he sat, the servants began serving the food, and the family dinner officially began.

For a while, the conversation remained pleasant—discussions about business, family affairs, and the latest developments in their empire. But everyone knew what was coming.

It was Meera who brought it up first, though indirectly.

"Rajveer, your grandfather told us about the council meeting today."

He paused mid-bite, his jaw tightening slightly. He had known this would happen.

Amar Singh Shekhawat, as expected, did not hesitate to join in. "Raghunath is right, Rajveer. You have ruled wisely, but a king cannot rule alone forever. It is time you considered marriage."

Rajveer set his spoon down, his expression unreadable.

"I have not yet decided."

His mother sighed. "Beta, we are not saying this to pressure you. But you are thirty-five now. You have spent years building your empire, securing your position. But a king needs a queen. A strong, capable woman who can stand beside him."

"Not just for you, Rajveer," his father added, his voice calm but firm. "For the family. For the Shekhawat legacy."

Rajveer leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping lightly on the polished wooden table. His grandfather watched him carefully, measuring his reaction.

That was when the others at the table joined in.

"It's true, Raj," Abhimanyu spoke, his voice laced with sincerity. "Many alliances have been offered. Ministers, noble families—there are plenty of daughters who would be honored to be your wife."

Tara, who had remained silent till now, hesitated before speaking. "And more than that, Rajveer... you deserve happiness. You deserve someone who will be yours in every sense."

Silence followed.

For a moment, Rajveer did not answer.

Then, his voice—calm, deliberate—cut through the room.

"I had said it before I will repeat it. I will choose my wife when the time is right. And when I do, it will not be for the sake of duty alone. It will be because she is someone I want, someone who wants me, and the only woman I will truly call My Ardhangini."

The room fell quiet.

His words held finality.

And yet, his mother was not ready to give up.

"And when will that time be, Rajveer?" Meera asked, her gaze searching his.

He stood up.

"When I know, you will know."

With that, Rajveer  turned and walked away from the dining hall, leaving behind the weight of expectations and a family that, no matter how much he loved, would never stop reminding him of theThe heavy wooden doors of Rajveer's home office shut behind him with a quiet click, sealing him in solitude. The soft glow of the desk lamp illuminated the room, casting shadows across the bookshelves lined with leather-bound volumes, their spines filled with knowledge of war, politics, and history—subjects that had shaped his life.

But at that moment, Rajveer wasn't thinking about business, strategy, or even his next move in the mafia world.

His mind was burdened with the conversation at dinner.

He loosened the buttons at the top of his kurta, exhaling as he walked toward the liquor cabinet. Pouring himself a small glass of whiskey, he took a sip, allowing the warmth to settle his restless thoughts.

Marriage.

His family made it sound like it was just another duty—a box to be checked off for the sake of tradition. But for Rajveer, marriage wasn't something to be arranged like a business deal. It wasn't just about finding a queen to sit beside him for the sake of appearances.

Marriage was responsibility. It was commitment.

It was a bond that could either strengthen a man or shackle him for life.

He had seen what a strong marriage looked like—his grandfather and grandmother, his parents, even his uncle and aunt who, despite not having children, had an unshakable bond. They were partners, confidants, pillars of strength for each other.

But he had also seen what a loveless marriage looked like. Some of his business associates—powerful men—had married for convenience, for alliances, for wealth. Their wives were nothing more than ornaments—beautiful, silent, powerless.

That was not the marriage Rajveer wanted.

His fingers ran through his hair as he leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening.

If he ever married, it would be because he wanted to. Because she was someone who challenged him, understood him, stood beside him—not behind him.

Not because he was a king who needed a queen.

Not because society dictated it.

Not because it was expected of him.

He reached for his glass again, but before he could take another sip, his phone vibrated on the desk.

The name flashing on the screen made him shake his head.

Rudarnsh Khurrana

A small smirk played at his lips as he picked up the call.

"Rajveer Singh Shekhawat, still alive?" Rudarnsh's voice came through, laced with amusement.

Rajveer exhaled, rubbing his forehead. "Barely. What do you want?"

"Tch, tch, tch. Is that how you talk to your childhood friend? Have some shame, Raj."

Rajveer let out a chuckle, shaking his head. "It's late, Rudar. What do you want?"

"What do I want? Shouldn't I be asking you that? From what I heard, your family is on a mission to get you married."

Rajveer's smirk faded. "So, even you have heard about it?"

Rudarnsh laughed. "Raj, please. Your grandfather, Raghunath, and your mother—three of the most determined people I know—how could I not hear? If they have decided that the great Rajveer Singh Shekhawat needs to marry, then I am sure the entire state knows by now."

Rajveer sighed, leaning back in his chair. "It's not happening."

Rudarnsh whistled. "Damn. That serious, huh?"

"I told them—I will marry when I choose to, and only when I find the right woman. I am not interested in getting married just because I am a king."

Rudarnsh was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice carrying something unreadable. "And do you think you will ever find that woman, Raj?"

Rajveer's grip on the glass tightened slightly.

Would he?

He didn't answer, so Abeer chuckled. "Look, all I'm saying is—you're thirty-five, single, and a king. Your family is bound to worry."

Rajveer sighed. "Rudra, if you called just to discuss my marriage, I swear—"

"Relax, my friend. I just find it amusing." Rudarnsh's tone turned teasing. "But honestly, Rajveer, are you sure you're not just afraid?"

Rajveer stilled. "Afraid?"

"Of getting attached. Of opening your heart to someone. Of letting someone actually get close to you."

Rajveer chuckled, shaking his head. "Spare me the psychology, Rudra."

Abeer hummed in thought before speaking again, "Fine, fine. I won't pressure you. But at least think about it, Raj. You may be the king, but even a king needs a home."

Rajveer's gaze darkened. "I already have a home."

"No, you have a kingdom. There's a difference."

For a moment, silence stretched between them.

Then, Rudarnsh's tone shifted back to its usual playful self. "Anyway, I won't keep you up all night with my wisdom. Sleep well, Raj. Who knows, maybe tomorrow you'll wake up and finally decide to find yourself a queen."

Rajveer rolled his eyes. "Goodnight, Abeer."

Click.

The call ended.

Rajveer leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

Rudarnsh's words lingered in his mind longer than he wanted them to.

A king needs a home.

Rajveer wasn't sure if he had ever felt that way.

His family loved him, his people respected him, his power was unmatched.

And yet... why did it feel like something was missing?

He closed his eyes, shaking off the thought.

No.

He was fine as he was.

He had no reason to chase something that wasn't necessary.

Marriage, love—those things could wait.

And if they never came?

Then so be it.

With one last sip of his whiskey, Rajveer shut off the lights and left the office, leaving behind both his thoughts and the lingering weight of expectations.

------------------------

That's it  for chapter 2 with 2.5k words

I know I said in the first chapter that I would write a longer chapter, but I thought this chapter should be like this: If I make it longer, the story will be messed up.

I hope you guys like it and if you do please vote and comment