Ruthless

↠ Paanch ↞

A FEW WORDS:
Payal - Anklet
Yuvraj - Heir to the throne
Shubh ratri - (Have a) Good night
---

❝There is always a little madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.❞
Friedrich Nietzsche

---

THE Queen walked through the marble halls painted by the setting sun. Her footsteps echoed in the deserted hallways in harmony with the sweet music made by her payal.

She trudged the wide corridors until she walked up to the humongous aurelian doors which were standing ajar. The room normally had a dreadful aura to it, one which was engraved with the helpless silent screams of the countless men which had fallen dead on the earth or the splatter of blood on the tall walls but today? Today, it felt as if the terrible cries had left the room, leaving it alone in its nostalgic glory.

It felt strange to the queen. A place which had known nothing but fear had a certain change to it but she couldn't put her finger on it. Was it perhaps hopefulness? Arrogance? Pride?

The queen couldn't tell.

Akira walked in and saw a silhouette standing near the window – which was situated on the east wall, lying parallel to the huge bed – looking out at the scenery which lied ahead. The room was silent other than the low chirps from outside and the silent music by her payal. The faint sunlight from the window contradicted with the slight darkness inside the chambers itself, causing the queen to quite not be able to make the man's face.

He stood tall with broad shoulders and a rather athletic physique but that was all she could see.

Akira took two more steps ahead, her anklet chiming against her skin and filling the quite room in its song. The figure turned around to look at the queen. At last Akira could make out his features.

He stood taller than the queen, atleast four to five inches taller, his ink black hair was ruffled in a messy way, as if no effort was put in. And it was something which she had never seen someone from royalty do. His face looked as if it was crafted by the greatest of artisans, artisans who had taken their time in him and halted the world to look after him. Brown captivating eyes, a sharp jawline that complimented the mess of his hair. He might as well have claimed he was crafted by gods and people would have believed, there was no doubt about that. 

But that is not what made him so captivating. It was the fact that Akira found him completely contradicting – he looked intimidating but the softness in his eyes and the inviting smile was anything but intimidating. He behaved as if he was anything but royalty but the way he held himself up screamed confidence and royalty. He seemed distant and cold but yet the queen could she could feel his warmth seeping through him and in the cracks of her own bones. 

The man took unhurried steps towards the queen. His gaze as sharp as an icy dagger, "Maharani Akira Singh" He addressed her as he bowed down. His voice rung through the formely empty room.

The queen smiled as she examined the man in front of, her tone imitating his, "Yuvraj Kartik Chauhan"

The Yuvraj took the Queen's hands in his and placed a gentle kiss as he looked into her eyes, "You look simply gorgeous."

The queen laughed, her head thrown back ever so slightly as a formal exchange, "I have heard better compliments from my handmaidens and courtiers, Yuvraj."

The man let go of the sovereign's hands as a smirk played on his lips. He dared not to break the eye contact, "Well, I will try harder next time then."