𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧

63⚚ Vengeance

Author POV:

After Viraj spoke, the room was drowned in heavy silence. It wasn't just the gravity of his words that silenced them—it was the weight of the storm behind them.

The fury that hadn't just built over years, but over a lifetime. No one dared to break that silence, not out of fear—but out of respect.

They were all watching a man who was no longer just a brother, or a king. He was a weapon sharpened by loss, tempered by pain, and now, finally unsheathed.

Rayan finally cleared his throat, his voice low and careful, like he was approaching a wild animal. "What's the plan, bhai?"

Viraj took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He didn't raise his voice, but each word felt like thunder rumbling low. "Just trust me, Ray. And tell your dad not to send a reply back. If he does... I can't guarantee his army will return in one piece."

Rayan's eyes widened. He could hear the calm in Viraj's voice, but it was the kind of calm that preceded destruction. His spine prickled with unease, because it wasn't a threat. It was a promise.

A man like Viraj won't speak empty words. And Ray know—know—not even a single soldier would survive if they opposed him. He nodded slowly, swallowing hard. "I'll talk to him, bhai."

Viraj gave a curt nod. "Good."

Gaurav shifted forward, voice firm but filled with elder-brotherly worry. "Vi... we need to know the plan. I can't let you go in alone."

Viraj smirked. The kind of smirk that once comforted his family in battle and terrified his enemies in war. "Weren't you the one who said the interval is yours and the climax is mine?" he asked with a quiet intensity. "Leave it to me, bhai."

Gaurav's throat tightened. He remembered that day. He remembered saying those words when Amaira asked him. He'd thought it was bravado.

But now, he understood—it was prophecy.

The climax is his.

And they all knew what kind of ending he would write.

"But Vi—" Rithvik tried again, his voice breaking with emotion.

Viraj raised a hand, slowly. No anger. No impatience. Just stillness. He pressed his finger to his lips, gesturing for silence. The brothers obeyed instantly, the room holding its breath.

And that's when they heard it.

Footsteps.

Soft. Shuffling. Familiar.

They all turned toward the staircase.

Amaira.

Wrapped almost entirely in a comforter, with messy hair and a sleepy pout, she stood halfway down the stairs like a confused little kitten.

Her cheeks were flushed from sleep, her eyes blinking against the hallway light. She looked so adorably lost and cuddly, every single brother unconsciously touched their nose—half expecting a nosebleed from the cuteness overload.

Viraj's cold aura melted like snow in sunlight. His eyes softened, the beast within retreating at the sight of his world.

He immediately got up, crossing the room in swift steps. "Hey baby... why are you up?" he whispered gently, scooping her up into his arms.

Amaira didn't open her eyes fully. She just latched onto him, like her body knew where it belonged. "I don't know, Vijulu... I suddenly woke up... and now I'm craving strawberries..."

Viraj chuckled, holding her tighter, as if shielding her from the world he was about to set ablaze. The others watched in silence.

In that moment, they didn't see the lost Royal Prince of Kshatriya.