CHAVI: Bride of Sultan

1. Her just her

Murat pov:)

The grand windows of the royal palace framed a view that could have captivated anyone else, but my thoughts were elsewhere. I had come here with a simple intention—a visit, nothing more. 

Yet, the unexpected twist of events had set the wheels of a far more complex plan in motion. The weight of my thoughts, the possibilities, and the consequences loomed heavy as I stared out into the sprawling expanse of the kingdom.

A knock at the door interrupted my musings, and the sound of it opening drew my attention. Turning, I saw one of the palace guards step inside, his demeanor respectful but laced with urgency. "Prince," he began, "there is a man at the palace gates claiming to be your brother. Is it true?"

I blinked, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. "Ah, I almost forgot about him. Bring him to me immediately."

Moments later, Rhaman strode into the room, the door closing behind him. His sharp eyes took in my expression, the subtle tension in my stance. "What is going on, bhaijaan? Are you seriously considering marrying the princess?"

I turned to face him fully, my voice calm but resolute. "Yes, if she agrees."

His eyes widened, disbelief etched into his features. "But what about the throne of Arub? You know this marriage could jeopardize your claim. Without it, you won't become Sultan."

I couldn't help the small, amused laugh that escaped me. "That is precisely why I am marrying her, Rhaman."

I stepped closer, my voice lowering, my tone carrying the weight of my calculated intent. "Think about it. If she becomes my wife, Arub will be strengthened. Her kingdom is twice the size of ours. With her by my side, I will hold more power than the current Sultan could ever dream of. I'll have leverage—either he cedes the throne willingly, or he prepares for a war he can't win."

Rhaman rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "You always think ten steps ahead, bhaijaan, but let me ask you this—why would she help you? Why would Princess Chavi agree to such a scheme?"

"She won't," I replied smoothly, my gaze unwavering. "She doesn't need to know. This is between me and the Sultan. She will never hear a word of it."

For a moment, Rhaman looked at me as though he pitied my ambitions. Then his expression shifted, teasing and sly. "And once you have the throne, you'll leave her, right? After all, she'll have served her purpose."

His words, though spoken lightly, struck a nerve. My sharp glare silenced him, and I found myself speaking before I had the chance to analyze my response. "Why would I leave her?"

Rhaman raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "So, the emotionless prince does have a heart. Tell me, Bhaijaan, have you started falling for the princess?"

I turned back to the window, but I felt the faintest smile ghost across my lips. The thought of her—fierce, proud, untamed—lingered in my mind. "Maybe," I murmured, almost to myself. "Just maybe... I could have someone who is mine. Someone who will love me, think only of me."

I closed my eyes briefly, the image of her fiery gaze vivid in my mind. "If she agrees to this marriage, Rhaman, I will give her the universe. I will make every ruler kneel before her, myself included."

The room fell into silence, but the tension was electric. I knew the path I was walking was fraught with risks, but the stakes had never felt so exhilarating.

 If she became mine, I would stop at nothing to keep her—and the world would learn just how dangerous love could be in the hands of a man like me.

The royal dining hall was nothing short of magnificent, its intricately carved walls and rich tapestries a testament to the wealth and grandeur of the Hind kingdom.