MYRA'S POV

The helicopter’s sound became a roar as it descended above the mansion, shaking the Mandap pillars and rattling the chandeliers. Every head turned upward—but my heart already knew. The moment the doors of the venue burst open, silence sliced through the chaos like a blade.

And there he stood.

Adhvay Pratap Varman. Walking —commanding the ground beneath him. Dressed in a white royal sherwani embroidered in gold, shoulders broad, jaw locked, eyes burning with a fury .

Thirty guards flanked behind him like a moving wall of thunder, but he didn’t need them—his presence alone was enough to stop breaths, knees, and heartbeats.

The guests moved back instinctively, as if something ancient and unstoppable had entered. Rayaan  Rathore beside me stiffened. Sreehan smirked. And I—my lungs forgot how to exist.

Adhvay’s gaze met mine, not soft, not pleading—claiming—as if every step he took was a declaration.

He walked down the aisle like the wedding belonged to him, like the room belonged to him, like I belonged to him. Every step radiated power, possessiveness, and a rage so controlled, it felt royal. The king had arrived—not to bless a wedding… but to end it.

Adhvay walked straight through the parted crowd   until he reached the front row where Sreehan sat .

Adhvay didn’t break stride; he simply looked at Sreehan like they were communicating with eyes.

Sreehan’s lips curved into a slow, taunting smirk as he rose and tossed the enormous bouquet of red roses toward him. The bouquet arced through the air —and Adhvay caught it effortlessly with one hand, without even looking away from Rayaan Rathore.

That single movement, made the entire venue inhale sharply. Holding the roses like a weapon instead of a gift, he turned and began walking toward the mandap… each step steady, unhurried, heavy with a warning no one dared to decode. The air thickened around him as if even the room understood that a king was approaching, not to witness a wedding—but to rewrite fate itself.

Now I understood… Adhvay never gave up on me. All this time, he was quietly gathering every one of Rayaan’s own allies and turning them against him.  I couldn’t form a single word. A violent mix of fury, relief, and disbelief surged through my veins. There was no stopping him now. Adhvay Prathap Varman had taken this entire mansion—its men—into his hands. Even the police officials and Politicians stood silently on his side, heads bowed, as if they served only him.

Adhvay's furious eyes softened for a second while he looked at me,

"Missed me sweetheart?", He asked and extended the rose bouquet to me.

A part of me wanted to smile… to run to him… to throw myself into his chest and cry until the world disappeared. But I couldn’t move. I stood frozen, trapped between terror and the urge to collapse into the only man I ever loved. When I hesitated to take the bouquet from his hand, he shoved it to me forcing me to take it.

Rayaan Rathore glanced around the mandap with trembling anger.

“Such a cowardly move, Prince.”

Adhvay’s glare could have burned Rayaan alive,

“I’m no prince anymore,” he roared, voice echoing like a storm. “I am a king. And I came to claim my queen.”

Rayaan laughed, bitterness dripping like poison.

“Myra agreed to marry me, not you, Prince Adhvay,  you lost there itself.”

Adhvay turned to me—slowly. His eyes… they were lethal. Dangerous. A silent promise that I had a price to pay for even sitting at this mandap.

“The moment I want her to be mine, she is mine,” he said, losing the last thread of his composure.

“And nobody will take her away from me.”

He pulled out the royal sword—the same sword that once beheaded Rayaan’s father—and placed its sharp edge against Rayaan’s throat.

“This sword killed your father… and now it’s killing you too. I won’t sit back and watch you take my queen.”

His arm raised, ready to strike—

“STOP!”

My scream tore from my chest. Panic crashed into me so hard I almost stumbled.

What was he doing? He was about to kill Rayaan in front of a hall full of powerful men and gangsters across the state.

His arm froze mid-air. Slowly, dangerously, he looked at me—like a beast interrupted before its kill.

“What are you doing, Adhvay?” My voice trembled.

He scoffed.

“What am I doing? I’m taking you back, my queen.”

“I’ll come with you. Just… leave him.”

If he killed Rayaan here, he wouldn’t be a king—he would become exactly what Rayaan always wanted him to be: a criminal drenched in blood.

Adhvay’s eyes widened with madness.

“You want to save him?” he roared.

And before I could breathe—

He thrust the sword straight into Rayaan’s chest.

Rayaan gasped, collapsed, and fell at my feet. His blood splattered across my red silk saree… across the floor… everywhere. The warm metallic smell hit me like a nightmare.

None of the guests moved. None of them screamed. No one  protested.

It felt like all of them already knew this was going to happen… as if they were waiting for Adhvay to finish what began years ago.

Who was this man I loved?

Why was everyone bowing to him?

What kind of power did he hold?

My vision blurred, the room tilted. I felt myself slipping—until Adhvay’s hand gripped my waist and held me upright.

“You want to get married?” he growled.

“Let’s get married.”

He lifted me to my feet as if I weighed nothing.

“Sreehan! Clear this mess in ten seconds.”

“Okay, Anna ( brother)…”

Four guards stepped forward, lifted Rayaan’s bleeding body, and dragged it away, leaving a crimson trail behind.

Adhvay pulled me back to the mandap.

“Sit, Myra.”

He forced me down beside him.

“Panthulu garu (Pandit)… give me the thaali.”

His voice thundered.

“Just chant the mantras when I tie the knot.”

The priest looked like life had drained out of him, but he obeyed, hands shaking.

“Om śatamānaṃ bhavati śatāyuḥ puruṣaśśatendriya āyuṣyevendriye pratitiṣṭhati".

"Mangalyam tantunanena mama jeevana hetuna: kanthe badhnami subhage twam jeeva sarada satam."

(The mantra is a powerful blessing for a long and prosperous life for the new couple.)

Before I realized it, Adhvay tied the Thaali ( mangalsutra )around my neck—three hard, furious knots.

(Thaali = The yellow thread, is  made from new white cotton  and coated with turmeric paste, as yellow is an auspicious color in tradition. The groom ties this thali around the bride's neck, symbolizing the union. )

Tears slid silently down my cheeks.

He married me.

Adhvay Prathap Varman—the king of Amaravathi—married his bodyguard, his enemy’s daughter, the woman he nearly destroyed.

He stood abruptly and grabbed my hand so hard the bangles shattered, cutting into his palm. Blood dripped onto the floor… but he didn’t even flinch.

He dragged me out of the mandap. Sreehan followed in silence. The guards parted like loyal shadows.

Outside, the helicopter’s blades spun violently.

When my legs buckled from dizziness, Adhvay lifted me into his arms and placed me inside, settling beside me like a force of nature claiming his territory.

“Move,” he ordered the pilot.

His hand clamped over mine—even when I tried to pull away. His grip tightened, unyielding, terrifying.

Where was the soft, innocent Adhvay I once knew?

This man… this version of him… was a devil wearing a crown.

“Adhvay—” I tried to speak, gulping with fear.

His jaw clenched, his eyes were burning with something lethal.

“Not. A. Single. Word.”

The helicopter descended onto the palace’s private helipad, the blades whipping the dust into a whirlwind around us. Before the helicopter even touched the ground, I saw them—rows and rows of royal guards, lined from the helipad all the way to the palace doors.

Hundreds of them. All dressed in black and gold. All standing like iron statues.

The moment the helicopter landed, every guard slammed his fist to his heart and bowed low.

“Welcome back, Maharani-garu( Queen).”

Their voices thundered together like a single roar.

My heart jumped inside my chest. Maharani?

They… they were addressing me?

Adhvay didn’t give me a second to breathe. He stepped out first, the king he was born to be—dangerous, furious, untouchable. And then he turned back and lifted me out of the helicopter as if I weighed nothing.

The moment my feet touched the ground, a shower of red rose petals burst into the air from both sides. The guards raised golden plates filled with petals and threw them like rain, the fragrance washing over me.

Some guards fell to their knees. Some bowed so low their foreheads nearly touched the marble.

Not a single one lifted their eyes to me.

They treated me the way they treated the queens of Amaravathi.

Adhvay didn’t slow down.

His grip around my hand was tight, almost painful—not to hurt me, but like he feared I’d disappear if he loosened even a little.

As we began to walk down the long royal pathway, the palace gates—two enormous golden doors engraved with ancient royal symbols—began to open by themselves, pulled by guards on both sides.

Beyond them, the grand palace shined under chandeliers, torches, and floating flower lamps. Silk drapes in royal red.

Fresh jasmine and sandalwood scent filling the corridor..The marble floor polished so bright it looked like glass.

And at the end of the hall stood the King, Aditya Dev Varman.

He stood with his sword sheathed, crown slightly lowered, and his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and happiness.  The moment we approached, he stepped forward.

For the first time in my life, a king bent his head toward me.

“Welcome home, Myra,” he said, voice deep, commanding—but surprisingly gentle.

“Welcome to your palace… Amaravathi’s Maharani.”

Sreehan came from behind running, and hugged me, comforting me like everything will be alright. "Welcome home vadinamma"

(Vadinamma = Sister in law or Bhabhi ji)

I froze.My lips parted but no words came out.

My heart felt too heavy, too full, too terrified.

Adhvay forced Sreehan to release his grip on me, and pushed him away.

"Sreehan, I will kill you", he warned.

"Relax bro... She is my vadinamma(sister in law) from now on"... Sreehan's eyes formed a thin layer of tears, "She is my mother".

Adhvay didn't speak any further, and I gave a small reassuring smile to Sreehan.

This palace…I entered through these gates as nothing. But Adhvay brought me back as his queen.

Rudra Mama( uncle) stood at the top of the stairs, his eyes widening the moment he saw me walking beside Adhvay. For a second, pure relief washed over his face — as if the sight of me alive and safe untied a knot that had been choking him for days.

His eyes were moist and his reaction was happy.

"Myra... "He called out. He opened his arms and I ran to him crying. Rudra Mama (uncle) , for the first time hugged me , as a father. He raised me, made me into a weapon, without him I would have died long ago. And I know he loves me more than anyone.

“May happiness always find you, Myra.” Rudra mama kept his hand on my head blessing me. I bent down to touch his feet, but he didn't let me.

"You are a queen now, Myra. A queen never bows to anyone ", he said with pride.

Before I could say a word , Adhvay gripped my hand again, ignoring every single one of them, dragged me to his chamber and slammed the door shut. He didn’t speak—not even a word. He just crashed his mouth onto mine, a brutal kiss that made me stumble backward. I hit his chest and tried to pull away, but he didn’t let go. His hand clamped around the nape of my neck, holding me in place, while the other tightened around my waist hard enough to leave marks.

Without realizing it, I gave in. Our breaths tangled, our heartbeats synced. He didn’t kiss me—he consumed  me. A month of pent-up fury poured into every movement, every groan against my mouth.

He pushed me back, and I fell onto the royal bed. He hovered over me, eyes blazing.

“You know what?” he said, his voice a dangerous whisper. “I fucking hate you.”

Those were his first words to me after marrying me. He hates me. The man I love… hates me.

Before I could speak, he continued—angrier, louder.

“Not because you’re the daughter of my mother’s murderer. Because you sat with another man, to marry him. While I’m still breathing!!!.”

He seized my lips again, kissing me with a rough, possessive hunger. The pressure was so harsh that my lower lip split, a warm sting blooming.

I shoved him away, breath trembling. “You’re hurting me,” I whispered.

“And you fucking killed me,” he roared, voice shaking with raw emotion, “the moment you agreed to marry him!”

I stood from the bed, my hands trembling as I adjusted my heavy saree. Before I could even take a step, he closed the distance between us — his presence swallowing the air.

His gaze wandered every inch of my body and stopped on my waist.

The delicate waist chain shimmered under the dim lantern light.

His fists clenched so hard the veins stood out sharply.

He stepped forward and gripped the waist chain, pulling me toward him roughly.

“You should wear this for me.”

He broke the chain  — as easily as if it was a thread.  “Only for me.”

I gasped, from the intensity in his eyes.

He leaned in, his breath brushing my neck, and the warmth of his touch sent a shiver racing through me. His lips grazed the sensitive skin below my ear, marking the spot with an intensity that left my knees weak — half pain, half soothing sensation rushed in my body.

He groaned like he was losing the last thread of control, and for a moment I almost surrendered to him—his breath, his touch, his anger, all of it swallowing me whole. But suddenly, he pulled his hands away from me, chest rising and falling like a raging beast barely contained.

His jaw tightened, eyes burning into every ornament on my body.

“Remove them,” he rasped.

I blinked, “What?”.

He stepped closer, voice sharp enough to cut through my breathless state.

“Remove every single thing on your body that bastard gave you.”

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👑 So this is another chapter. They got married ❤️

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