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Anirudh's POV

The palace had never looked more magnificent. Draped in soft hues of gold and crimson, its pillars wrapped in strings of marigold and jasmine, the air was heavy with incense and sweet anticipation. Today wasn't just a royal ceremony, it was the beginning of a legacy.

Three weeks ago, the gods had smiled upon me and Nayantara once again. After years of longing and pain, after enduring storms that tried to shatter us, we had been gifted not one but two precious daughters; twin princesses who had already wrapped us around their tiny fingers.

I sat beside Nayantara, the sacred fire crackling in front of us as the priest continued chanting the mantras. The flames danced, casting a golden glow on her serene face. She looked ethereal in her deep red attire, her hair adorned with mogra, her eyes tired yet shining with a quiet joy. She held one of the girls gently, rocking her ever so slightly as the baby stirred.

I had the other princess nestled in my arms. So delicate, so small, with a tiny fist wrapped around my thumb. Her breath was warm against my chest, and I found myself staring at her like a man bewitched.

Behind us, our son, our little prince, Anshuman sat cross legged, peeking curiously over our shoulders to look at his sisters. He was already obsessed with them.

"Which one is mine, Bapusa?" he whispered, tugging at my sleeve.

I chuckled. "They are both your sister, Ansh. But we will decide who you get to protect first after the ceremony, hmm?"

He nodded seriously like a soldier accepting a royal command.

The priest's voice suddenly rose above the rhythmic chanting, drawing everyone's attention.

"These two girls," he said, his eyes closed as he interpreted the sacred signs from the flames and stars above, "are not ordinary children. They are god-gifted. Mark my words, Maharaj, Maharani. The elder one... she will grow up with grace and wisdom, gentle like a spring breeze yet resilient like a mountain. She is born to be a queen, her mother's reflection."

I turned toward Nayantara. She blinked away tears, her gaze locked on the child in her arms.

"And the younger," the priest continued, his voice a little more measured now. "She will be the moon to her sister's sun. She will be lively, bold, charming, everyone's favorite. But..." he paused, and the crackle of fire filled the silence, "her journey will not be an easy one. Her stubbornness will lead her to danger. A deadly person, or a deadly trap, awaits her. But fear not. Her story too will end in happiness."

My chest tightened. I instinctively wrapped my hand protectively around the tiny bundle in my arms. How could someone so small ever be in danger? And yet, fate had already etched their paths.

I felt Nayantara's fingers entwine with mine. She leaned in and whispered, "Whatever may come, we'll stand by them. Like we always have."

I nodded. "Always."

The priest now looked at us expectantly. "It is time. Name your daughters, Maharaj."

I glanced at Nayantara, letting her speak first. She smiled, kissed the forehead of the baby in her arms, and said gently, "Anvika Singh Rathore."

A royal name, noble, strong, and full of grace. Just like her.

I cradled the other baby a little closer. "And this little mischief," I smiled, "will be Naisha Singh Rathore."