Pratiksha Rathore
An Empress who possesses weakness but not a phobia. The Woman has the subject of blood and revenge.
Abhay Singh Chauhan:
Intimidate personality. The only identity trait the world knows him for. But no one knew it was just an attem...
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I own my throne bitches!
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Shreedha Singh Chauhan has always been the princess to her father and brother, akin to any other girl born in the royal world. Not so narcissistic, royal, and classy, if you forget her obsession with the princess crown. The unfairness of this cookie-cutter audience was the fame of Amorous Crown the mentions of her cruelty being glorified. Oh! She plays games too well to acknowledge the dimension of her lies all evil. But the quality that made her a kind queen of the estate was her understanding. She was quite calm and serene- in the deception of the Kingdom's best interest. She was too polite to be dealt in the politics of impregnable wilderness, strong, and ambitious, but to him-Abhay Singh Chauhan. She held her breath, her Bhai conspired her world. For her, he was the one to whom she could be reliable. When she felt the world was getting toxic and consuming for her brighter side, he came to replace the worse with, like a guardian angel, he came enamoring her with his shelter, to mend her, heal her, and light her world ablaze in the storm of dark thick sheets of night. He was always there when she needed him, wanted him, even when she was not able it voice it out. He let her fall and learn, when the wound wreaked her he came to pick her up and stuck to her when she was wandering in the strange' road alone.
After returning to the same flamboyant-style gate, parking his white Lamborghini, and passing the key to the royal Valet, he was quick on his step to barge into his room, skipping the steps at a time, he crossed the staircase, reaching west-wing second-floor, to his chamber- might be added black as void of light burn with golden flakes to shreds of scars more similar to his soul. Unrealistic to world sunrise and selenophile love. Akin to many other princely states, Badi Mahal of Mewar in the city palace of Udaipur was a fusion of Rajasthani and Mughal architectural styles. In this Palace getting a room with the site of a lake in the west is your luck, the left window designed in bullseye arch, did give a panoramic view of Lake Pichola and Jagdish Mandir. The room was indeed one of the most beautiful like a plethora ringing every night to give you a blessing from Lord Aditya and significant spaces of Mahal but for him, it was a place of absence of voice he hated to hear- his soul was suffocated off. From mirror-worked curtains mocking him of his reality every time he tried to pick himself up to marble floors with random flagstones designed, showing how he has pushed again to the loathing game of his life, from murals of luxury the world saw, and wall painting to silver Inlay work, like an empty canvas defined to make art, it was filled with unique structural beauty like an empty glass decorated to add glory to the death harbinger of Bar. So similar to his life. Like Nietzsche's ubermensch too beautiful to complete the metaphors of the strong secret walls.
