Kashi—The Queen of Udaipur

Kashi—the Queen of Udaipur—stood at the center of the grand royal chamber, overseeing every detail of the special event set to take place that day. She commanded perfection, knowing that even the slightest flaw would be unacceptable. The weight of responsibility hung over her like a sharpened blade, demanding nothing less than excellence.

But life as the Queen of Udaipur had never been as effortless as one might expect. Stripped of warmth and affection, she had been thrust into her role, burdened with the duty of preserving the throne and its legacy.

"Do you remember how lively the palace used to be when Chhavi Rani was here? The air itself felt cheerful. Now, it's just not the same... And on top of that, this..." The maids whispered in hushed tones, unaware—or perhaps unconcerned—that their words had reached Kashi's ears.

She had been cast aside, rejected by those within the palace walls.

Kashi's temper flared. In a swift motion, she seized the maid by her hair, yanking her head back with an unforgiving grip.

"Your tongue is running too much, isn't it? Who is the queen of this palace?" Her voice was laced with fury, her piercing gaze burning into the trembling maid.

Fear rippled through the gathered servants. They had always feared her, yet it never stopped them from trying to pull her down, whispering behind her back, waiting for her fall. But today, Kashi refused to let it slide.

The maid stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "You..." She was terrified—rightfully so.

Kashi's lips curled into a smirk, her grip tightening for just a moment before she shoved the maid to the ground. "So… your life doesn't matter to you?" Her voice was calm, chilling in its certainty.

The maid collapsed, hands pressed against the cold marble floor, her body shaking. "No, My Queen… it was a mistake, please forgive me," she pleaded, her voice cracking. But they both knew the truth—there would be no forgiveness.

The next consequence would be far worse. 

As Kashi moved forward in fury, Radha swiftly stepped in, holding her back. Radha—Kashi's personal maid and the only one who truly cared for her—was the only person who dared to intervene.

"No, Rani sa. Today is an important day. Please calm yourself, or Raja Sarkar will be angered," Radha pleaded, knowing exactly what to say.

The only person Kashi had ever respected, loved, and feared was Veer—the King of Udaipur, her husband.

At the mention of his name, Kashi halted, reining in her anger. Without another word, she turned and walked away, leaving the tense atmosphere behind. Her ever-loyal knight, Pratap, and Radha followed closely behind as she made her way to the greenhouse garden.

Once there, she paced restlessly, her mind still clouded with frustration. Concerned, Radha spoke gently, "Rani sa, don't dwell on this too much. It might affect today's event—the very one you've spent so much time preparing for."

Pratap echoed Radha's concern, his voice steady yet respectful. "Yes, Rani sa."

Kashi gave them a silent nod, remaining in the garden until the storm within her settled. The crisp scent of blooming flowers filled the air, offering a momentary sense of calm.

After some time, Radha gently reminded her, "Rani sa, it is time for you to get ready. If we delay any further, you will be late."

With a composed breath, Kashi turned away from the garden. Radha guided her toward the imperial chamber, where her adornment awaited.

Inside, the royal dressing attendants stood in anticipation, each ready to play their part in preparing the Queen of Udaipur. A grand, intricately carved vanity held an array of kohl, scented oils, and rare pigments sourced from across the kingdom.

Kashi was seated before a large mirror, framed in gold. The attendants moved with practiced precision—one applied a deep, bold kohl to accentuate her sharp eyes, while another dusted her cheeks with a soft rouge, enhancing the regal flush of her skin. A delicate mix of saffron and sandalwood perfume was dabbed onto her wrists and neck, the fragrance befitting royalty.

Her hair, dark and flowing, was expertly woven into a traditional braid, adorned with golden hairpins and intricate pearl embellishments. The final touch was a maang tikka—an ornate piece resting elegantly against her forehead, its gemstones shimmering under the soft glow of the palace lights.

Draped in a resplendent lehenga of deep emerald green with intricate gold embroidery, Kashi embodied the very essence of a queen. The fabric, heavy with tradition and power, once belonged to the previous queen—Chhavi, Veer's first wife. Though Kashi carried it with grace, the weight of its history pressed against her heart.

She adorned herself with purpose. Not just as the Queen of Udaipur, but as a woman yearning for the gaze of the one man who had yet to truly see her. Perhaps, tonight, Veer would look at her—not through the shadow of the past, but as she was. As his queen.

A bejeweled necklace rested against her collarbone, glistening under the warm candlelight. Gold and ivory bangles clinked softly as she moved, each delicate sound echoing in the grand chamber. The finishing touch—a maang tikka—sat elegantly on her forehead, its gemstones catching the flicker of the oil lamps.

As the last adornment was placed, Radha stepped back, eyes filled with admiration. A small, affectionate smile graced her lips.

"May no evil eye be cast upon you, Rani Sa. Tonight, you will leave the Raja Sarkar wounded by your beauty" she murmured in reverence.

Kashi met her own reflection in the grand mirror. Her expression remained composed. Regal. Untouchable.

She was ready.

The announcement of the King's arrival echoed through the chamber, sending a hush over the room. Kashi straightened, dismissing the maids with a single wave of her hand. The heavy doors parted, and Veer stepped inside.

Her breath hitched.

Draped in traditional royal attire, he looked every bit the sovereign ruler of Udaipur. The deep hues of his garments, the intricate embroidery, the commanding presence—everything about him demanded respect, yet all Kashi could see was the man she longed for.

For a fleeting moment, she forgot everything—the weight of the crown, the cold distance between them. Drawn to him, she stepped forward, her fingers reaching for the kohl to ward off the evil eye.

But before she could touch him, his hand shot up, gripping her wrist in midair.

"What are you doing?"His voice was sharp, laced with irritation.

Kashi froze. The warmth she carried in her heart turned cold at his tone.

"I was applying the kohl to ward off the evil eye," she said, pure innocence reflecting in her eyes.

"I have no need for it," he retorted, tightening his grip on her wrist. His gaze swept over her, taking in every detail before his expression twisted in disdain. "And what are you wearing?" he asked, disgust evident in his voice.

Before she could respond, his next words struck her like a blade.

"Wearing her clothes won't make you her. You will never take Chhavi's place, Kashi," he said firmly.

The sting of his words burned deep. She had never wanted to be compared, yet here she was—measured and found lacking.

"Never?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, desperation laced within it.

"Never." His response was cold, final. With that, he yanked his hand away, severing the touch between them.

Her heart clenched, but she refused to back down. "Then tell me, Sarkarji," she said, her voice unwavering despite the pain. "Tell me what I must do for you to accept me."

His reply was merciless.

"Die. That would be a favor to me."

The words slipped from his tongue in the heat of the moment, but he failed to realize just how deeply they had wounded her.