15. On his knees for her ✨

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Happy reading yrra's 💗



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(The term "Crimson Empire" often refers to a fictional setting in various stories or games, where an empire is characterized by power, conquest, and a theme of blood or war, symbolized by the color crimson. For instance, in *Star Wars: Crimson Empire*, it represents the remnants of Emperor Palpatine's Imperial Guard, who strive to regain control after his fall.

It can also be used in other contexts as a metaphor for a brutal or powerful empire, often linked with themes of authority, dominance, and military strength.)

In that quiet moment, a sense of resignation washed over her. The burden of life had become too heavy, and she no longer possessed the strength to carry it. Her movements were slow, almost fragile, as she turned, seeking solace in something – or someone. Raghav stood behind her, resolute yet softened by the weight of her despair. As her trembling fingers grazed his knees, there was no hesitation from him. The mighty king of Rajasthan, ruler of the crimson empire, lowered himself onto his knees before her, shedding his regal stature in an act of pure humanity. He did not wait for her plea; instead, he met her halfway, a silent vow in his eyes.

Seeing their king—their fearless leader—on his knees before this broken woman, the guards instinctively followed. They were not commanded; there was no decree. This was not an act born of obligation, but of unwavering loyalty. They knelt in reverence, in solidarity, with no need for words. The entire court seemed to breathe as one, unified in that moment of vulnerability shared between their king and this woman.

The room was engulfed in a silence so profound that only Siya's labored breaths could be heard, each one a struggle as if the very air was slipping away from her. The weight of the moment hung heavy in the stillness, and though no one spoke, every guard knew the truth—she was their queen. And there, in stark contrast to the king’s usual stoic presence, he knelt before her. Raghav, the king who never uttered a word of thanks, was now on his knees for her. The sheer silence of the chamber was a testament to the authority he commanded, a reflection of the dark and commanding aura he wore like armor.

Her trembling hand reached out, finding his broad shoulder for support as her gaze locked onto his face. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks, her eyes bloodshot from the overwhelming emotion and exhaustion. She spoke in a voice choked with desperation, “Hume ke chaliye, Hukum sa... Hume yaha nahi rehna” (“Take me away, Your Majesty… I don’t want to stay here”), her plea raw and pleading.

The king, startled by the intensity of her words, reacted immediately. He rose, instinctively trying to lift her to her feet. But just as he moved, her strength gave way. Before she could fully collapse, her body limp with exhaustion and sorrow, she fell into unconsciousness, her weight sagging in his arms.

As she collapsed, her maang tika shifted slightly from its place, revealing the vermillion in her hairline—the sacred sindoor she filled each time only for him, because of him. The sight of it brought Raghav a strange mix of emotions—relief, joy, and yet a touch of tension as well. The mighty king who had commanded armies now held her delicately in his arms, as if she were the most fragile thing he had ever known.

He carried her effortlessly, his heart pounding with worry, as he moved towards the stairs, calling out to her in desperation, "Siya... Rani sa... Rani sa, uthiye... Siya, please... Rani sa." His voice, usually so strong and unwavering, trembled now as he pleaded for her to wake up.

In a matter of minutes, he emerged from the forest, and as soon as one of his guards spotted him, they rushed to open the car door. Siya was still cradled in his arms as he carefully maneuvered himself into the driver's seat, not daring to let her go. He settled her gently on his lap, making sure she was comfortable, knowing it would be too dangerous for her to sit elsewhere in her fragile state.

As he sat there, his heart raced. His voice, now soft and pleading, continued to coax her out of unconsciousness. "Siya... wake up... open your eyes, Rani sa... bachha (child), please uth jao (wake up)." His worry deepened with every passing second.

Perhaps his words reached her, for she stirred slightly, her body shifting ever so faintly. But just as quickly as she moved, she fell silent once more, leaving Raghav to watch her, his heart filled with both hope and fear.

Raghav never imagined his life would take such a sudden turn—married in haste, unplanned and unwanted, yet married nonetheless. The words he once uttered with firm conviction, "Aap rani sa ban sakti hain, Mrs. Raghav Rajput ban sakti hain magar humari bindani kabhi nahi" [You may become a queen, you may become Mrs. Raghav Rajput, but never my wife], echoed through his mind. At the time, they felt like a statement of finality, an assertion of distance. But today, as his wife lay unconscious in his lap, those very words seemed to pierce him, causing a dull ache in his chest that he could neither shake off nor fully understand.

With one arm holding her frail body close and the other on the steering wheel, Raghav navigated the dark, winding roads towards the palace. His face rested against her as he murmured soft reassurances into the silence, trying to make her as comfortable as possible. There was an urgency in his movements—he needed to reach the palace, and yet, he needed to be careful. Every bump in the road felt like a risk, every minute that passed felt too long.

The palace finally loomed before them, its towering gates opening as if anticipating their arrival. Before the guards could reach him, Raghav had already sprung into action, throwing open the car door. With a protective grip, he lifted her into his arms and dashed inside, not caring for the formalities of his station.

The guards immediately sensed his distress and fell into formation, some tightening the palace's security, others following closely behind. It was a rare sight—Raghav Rajput, usually so controlled and stoic, now driven by an emotion that seemed foreign to him. A blend of fear, guilt, and a deep-seated need to protect the woman he had once sworn to keep at arm's length.

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Shukriya ji
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