Ch 1. Promise by the lake

Author's pov

The palace of Jodhpur, 1925, stood like a fortress carved from time itself grand, golden, and cold. Within its vast courtyards, duty was the law, silence the tradition, and power the only true inheritance.

But in a hidden corner of the palace gardens, laughter bloomed like forbidden flowers.

Atharav Singh Rathore, the twelve-year-old crown prince, was already molded to stand tall under the gaze of his father, Maharaj Virender Singh Rathore. Stern, authoritative, and unyielding, the king demanded perfection. Yet, the boy's soul longed not for crowns and swords, but for stolen moments of childhood.

And beside him Nayantara. Just six, the daughter of Raghunath Das, the king's most loyal aide. For the world, she was the servant's child. But for Atharav, she was warmth, laughter, and truth in a palace drowning in pretence.

She called herself "Nayan" because that was what her late mother always called her. Yet secretly, she had joined her mother's name Tara at the end, keeping her alive in her own identity. Atharav was the only one who teased her about it and the only one who truly respected it.

Nayan's pov

I ran across the dewy grass, dupatta flying, anklets chiming like my heartbeat. When I reached the old fountain corner, my eyes sparkled.

"Arey aap aa gaye!" I whispered, breathless.

("Oh you came!")

Atharav stood there, hands hidden behind his back, his princely posture already too regal for a child. But the faint smile tugging his lips gave him away.

"Kya tum mujhe yaad kar rahi thi, Nayan?" he teased, eyes glinting.

("Were you missing me, Nayan?”)

My curls bounced as I nodded. "Aapko toh hamesha yaad karti hoon. Lekin... jo wada kiya tha, woh laaaye?"

("I always miss you. But... did you bring what you promised?")

Grinning, Atharav revealed a small steel box. Inside gleamed two freshly stolen motichoor ke ladoo.

"Bas tumhare liye. Lekin agar Maharani ko pata chal gaya na, toh meri khair nahi."

I giggled, snatching one ladoo quickly. My cheeks puffed as I ate the whole in one go eyes closing in bliss.

(“Just for you. But if Queen Devyani finds out, then I'm finished.”)

Atharav chuckled. "Nayan aaram se khao"

("Nayan eat slow")

I said "Aap kaise laye ladoo mere liye"

("How did you bring these ladoo for me".)

He replied flexing himself "Main bhi Rajkumar hoon, Nayan. Thoda sa dimaag chalana aata hai mujhe."

(I'm a prince, Nayan. I know how to use my brain a little.”)

But before I could laugh again, the air grew heavy.

"Atharav!"

("Atharav!")

The sharp voice of Maharani Devyani Singh Rathore thundered across the garden. Draped in royal silk, her eyes blazed with disapproval as she stormed towards them.

I froze, the half-eaten ladoo slipping from her trembling fingers. Atharav instinctively stepped in front of me.

"Maasa, woh sirf-" he said defending me

("Mother, it's just-")

"Chup!" Devyani hissed, seizing his wrist with iron force. "Rajkumar hokar tum yeh kar rahe ho? Naukar ki beti ke saath? Kaisi sangati mein reh rahe ho tum!"

("Silence!" Devayani hissed, seizing his wrist with an iron grip. "You, a prince, are doing this? With a servant's daughter? What kind of company are you keeping?")

My tiny voice cracked. "Woh toh bas-"

("It's just-")

"Bilkul chup raho!" Devyani's tone struck like a whip. Dragging Atharav away, she pulled him through the marble corridors as though he were no more than a criminal.

("Stay absolutely quite")

Atharav's pov

I stumbled into the royal durbar hall, my stepmother's grip still biting into my wrist. There, waiting on the throne like chair, sat my father, Maharaj Virender Singh Rathore.

"Dekhiye, Maharaj," Devyani's voice dripped with venom. "Aapka laal kiske saath khel raha tha. Uss naukar ki beti ke saath! Yeh Rajya ka uttaradhikari hai ya koi bazaari ladka?"

("Look, Maharaj," Devyani's voice dripped with venom. "Who was your son playing with? That servant's daughter! Is he the heir to the kingdom, or just some common street boy?")

My father's piercing eyes locked onto mine "Yeh sach hai, Atharav?"

(Is this true, Atharav?)

I swallowed, fear trembling in my chest, but my chin rose in defiance. "Woh meri dost hai, Pitaji. Sirf khel rahe the."

("She is just my friend, father. We were just playing.")

SLAP!

The blow landed before I could blink. My father's hand left a stinging print across my cheek.

"Rajkumar ki dosti iss tarah ke logon se nahi hoti!" he thundered.

("A prince does not befriend people like that! )

My vision blurred, tears burning my eyes. I wanted to shout, but my voice cracked under the weight of humiliation. Heart pounding, I ran.

I ran through corridors, past guards, until I reached the old wing the only place my heart ever found shelter.

There sat my grandfather, Maharaj Pratap Singh Rathore, old yet majestic, his white beard flowing as he read scriptures in the dim light.

"Dadaji!" I collapsed into his lap, sobbing. "Pitaji... unhone mujhe thappad maara. Sirf kyunki main... Nayan ke saath khel raha tha."

("Grandpa!" He collapsed into his lap, sobbing. "Dad... he slapped me. Just because I... was playing with Nayan.”)

His weathered hands stroked my hair, his own heart breaking. "Beta, apna dil saaf rakhna sabse badi baat hai. Teri galati nahi thi."

("Child, keeping your heart pure is what matters most. It wasn't your fault.”)

I clung to him, voice shaking. "Mujhe Maa ki yaad aa rahi hai, Dadaji. Agar woh hoti..."

("I miss Mom, Grandpa. If only she were here...")

A silence fell, heavy and raw. His eyes shone with unshed tears. "Teri Maa ki karuna... uska pyaar... sab tere andar hai, Atharav. Kabhi usse khona mat."

("Your mother's compassion... her love... it is all within you, Atharav. Never lose it.”)

But the elder knew the palace would devour my innocence. That very night, under the weight of maharani's whispers and maharaj's cold resolve, a decision was passed.

I would be sent away to Delhi, to my grandfather's trusted friend, for "better education." But everyone knew the truth it was exile from my only ray of comfort.

Author's pov

At dawn, Atharav stood by the hidden lake, his small satchel ready. Beside him, Nayan's eyes brimmed with tears.

"Main jaa raha hoon, Nayan," his voice broke. "Dilli."

("I'm leaving, Nayan," his voice broke. "For Delhi.”)

Her lips trembled. "Aur hum? Hum toh akele ho jayenge..."

("And what about me? I'll be left all alone...")

He bent, untying one of her anklets. The silver bell jingled softly in his palm. "Yeh rakhta hoon. Tum meri ho, bas meri. Jab bhi ise dekhunga, tum yaad aaogi."

("I'll keep this. You are mine—only mine. Whenever I look at it, I'll be reminded of you.”)

Her tears spilled, but she nodded. "Aur hum... har roz diya jalayenge. Aapke liye."

("And we... I will light a lamp every day. For you.")

For a moment, the world stilled two children making a promise greater than time.

And then, the palace gates swallowed Atharav Rathore.

Left behind, Nayantara pressed her dupatta to her lips, whispering into the morning breeze: "Aap lautke aayenge, Atharav ji."

-I hope you all liked the chapter please let me know the likes and dislikes in the comment section.