Her Majesty's revenge..

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙀𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙥𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙎𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝙊𝙖𝙩𝙝

The palace was chaos. The once joyful air of celebration was drowned in the heavy stench of smoke, fire, and blood. Screams echoed from every corner of the royal grounds, clashing with the shouts of soldiers and the sound of steel against steel. The floor, polished and shining just moments ago, was now streaked with red footprints.

Kira stood in the middle of the throne room, her hands trembling but her chin raised. Her crown sat tilted on her head, a cruel reminder of how quickly joy could turn into tragedy. The sound of the palace doors being broken into made her heart jump.

Her father, the King of Rajasthan, stormed into the hall, his face pale, eyes wide—not with fear for himself, but for her. His royal robe was torn, dust clinging to it, and blood—whether his own or another’s—spattered across the edge.

“Kira!” he called, striding to her side, gripping her shoulders with trembling hands. “Listen to me carefully. You have to leave. Now.”

Her eyes widened, her voice breaking. “Leave? What about you? What about mother? The people—”

The King shook his head violently, silencing her with a deep, stern look. “I swear on God, my child… you must save yourself. If you die here, the bloodline dies with you. Do you understand? You are the last of us. You are the future of Rajasthan.”

Tears stung her eyes, blurring her vision. She shook her head stubbornly, her voice shaking. “I won’t leave. This is my home. I can fight—”

“No!” his voice thundered through the chaos, filled with desperation. “You are not just my daughter. You are the Queen. If you stay, they will s*******r you. This kingdom needs hope, and you are its last hope.” His hand cupped her cheek briefly, his touch firm yet tender. “If you love me, Kira, you will live.”

Before she could answer, Rajan appeared at her side, panting, his sword stained from the fight outside. “Your Majesty, the west hall is breached! We have seconds—” His eyes locked on Kira, urgency blazing in them. “We have to go. Now!”

“I’m not leaving,” she said, her voice trembling but stubborn. “I’m not running away from my people. From my father—”

“You’ll be running for them,” Rajan cut her off, stepping closer, his jaw clenched. “Don’t you understand? If they get to you, it’s over. The m******e will mean nothing if the royal blood is gone.”

The King’s voice cracked, but his eyes stayed sharp. “Rajan, take her. Even if she fights you, even if she hates you for it. You take her away from here alive.”

Kira’s eyes widened, panic rising. “No—”

Rajan didn’t wait. His arm wrapped firmly around her waist as she began to struggle, her fists pushing against him. “Rajan! Put me down! Let me fight!” Her voice was desperate, her words trembling.

“You think I want to do this?” he growled, his tone raw with emotion. “I’d rather die here beside you, Kira. But your father is right. You’re the last. And I promised him I’d keep you safe, even if it means dragging you out of hell itself.”

Smoke filled the room as the far door burst open. Adrian’s men stormed in, clad in black, their eyes cold and merciless. The King moved in front of them, sword drawn, the last line of defense.

The King looked over his shoulder, meeting Kira’s tear-filled gaze. His voice was steady but full of something final, something that froze her heart.

“Go, my child. And live.”

Rajan pulled her back toward the side exit, but she tried to fight him again, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Father! No! I can’t—”

The King gave her one last look, his lips forming the words I love you before he turned, roaring as he charged into battle. His sword clashed with the first of the attackers, the sound ringing sharp and brutal in the air.

“KIRA!” Rajan barked, his tone laced with an edge she had never heard before. “Don’t look back!”

But she couldn’t help it. Even as Rajan dragged her through the smoke-filled corridors, her eyes strained to catch sight of the throne room. She could hear the battle—blades clashing, men shouting, the guttural cries of pain. Every step felt like she was being ripped away from her own blood, her own soul.

They ran down the hallway, the walls trembling from explosions outside. Servants and guards lay dead along the marble floor, their bodies lifeless, eyes open and glassy. Rajan kept his arm around her, half-shielding her as arrows whizzed past, embedding themselves into the walls.

“You’re hurting me,” she whispered, her voice breaking, but she didn’t fight anymore.

“I’d rather hurt you now than bury you tonight,” Rajan muttered, his voice low, almost shaking.

They burst through a small service door at the far end of the palace. Outside, the once-lively gardens were aflame, the air heavy with the smell of burning roses and wet earth. The sound of crying children, the shouts of soldiers, and the terrifying war horns of Adrian’s men filled the night.

Maya stumbled on the uneven ground, her slipper catching on a stone. Rajan caught her, pulling her against him as they ran. He was strong—too strong for her to break away from—and the warmth of his arm around her only reminded her of the fact that she was leaving everyone else behind.

In the distance, she saw the gates—half-broken, swinging on their hinges. Beyond them, the night stretched out in the form of the dark desert roads.

But before they could reach the safety of the shadows, Maya turned her head, and the sight that met her eyes stopped her heart.

From the far balcony, she saw the palace courtyard. Bodies littered the stone. Men and women she had known her whole life—guards, servants, nobles—lay still. The royal banners that had flown so proudly that evening were now torn, splattered with blood. The steps of the palace ran red.

And there—through the smoke—she thought she saw him. Her father, surrounded, fighting like a lion, but bleeding heavily. She couldn’t hear his voice over the chaos, but his figure burned into her mind like a brand.

“Father!” she screamed, trying to break from Rajan’s grip. “We have to go back! I can’t—”

Rajan didn’t answer. He simply pulled her closer, moving faster. His silence was louder than any words.

Her vision blurred with tears, her breath ragged. She tried again to twist free, but her body was weakening, the shock and smoke making her dizzy. The world tilted and spun, the sounds of the m******e fading into a dull roar in her ears.

The last thing she saw before the darkness swallowed her was the image of the burning palace, the crimson glow of the flames reflected in the pools of blood on the courtyard steps. The last sound was Rajan’s voice, rough and urgent, calling her name as he carried her into the night.

And then—nothing.

"On that day, the m******e didn’t just claim lives — it claimed Kira’s soul"