𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧

77⚚ Dada's Hold

The entire palace was thrown into chaos.

The moment Rithvik uttered "Her water broke", Viraj's world spun.

Without a second thought, he rushed to Amaira, scooping her into his arms, his face pale but fierce, his heartbeat echoing louder than her cries. He sprinted inside the palace, shouting orders like a madman.

"Bhageera, call the doctors! Now!"

But Bhageera was already ahead, phone in hand, running as though his own life depended on it.

Viraj didn't stop until he placed Amaira gently onto the hospital bed in their private medical wing — a room he had specifically built with top-tier equipment for emergencies like this.

He couldn't risk taking her all the way to a kingdom hospital. Not when every second mattered.

Amaira's face was drenched in sweat, her hair clinging to her temples, her breaths uneven. She clutched at his hand, her voice breaking with a scream, "Ahhh, Vijjulu... it hurts—"

Each cry ripped him apart, shredding every last bit of his composure. Viraj, the fierce Ravana of the world, was helpless before the agony of the woman he called his life.

His throat bobbed as he tried to stay strong, but his trembling hands gave him away.

He pressed her to his chest, half embracing, half holding her together as if his arms could shield her from the pain.

His lips never stopped moving — brushing frantic kisses against her hair, her damp forehead, her temple. His voice broke as he whispered against her skin, "My baby... you're so strong, right? Hmm? Just a few minutes, love. Just a few minutes and the doctor will be here. Please... just hold on."

Amaira screamed again, arching against the mattress as though her body were being torn apart from within. Her nails dug into his arm, her cries filling the sterile room, echoing through every corner of the palace.

Outside, all her brothers stood frozen, their eyes glassy with tears.

Their Amaira... the princess they had pampered, protected, and spoiled beyond measure, was suffering a pain none of them could take away. It was unbearable to watch.

Suddenly, the doors burst open. The doctor staggered in, breathless from sprinting across the massive halls, a team of nurses at her heels. Bhageera trailed behind, panic etched across his usually stoic face.

Ruhi, though just as shaken, took charge. She guided the brothers out one by one, her voice steady despite her own fear.

"Let her breathe... give her space. The doctors are here." She sat with them outside, her legs bouncing restlessly, her hands trembling as her eyes locked on the shut door, praying for the safe delivery of the woman who was the heart of their world.

The brothers were barely holding themselves back from storming inside and tearing into the doctors, because every scream that left Amaira's lips felt like knives in their chests.

Gaurav's fists were clenched so tightly his nails dug deep into his palm, and he didn't even flinch when the sting of blood trickled out.

Rithvik was pacing like a caged lion, panic painted all over his face, while Ash kept trying to steady him even though his own hands were trembling just as badly.

Daksh had slid down against the door, his head thrown back against the cold wall, whispering prayers to every god he knew, his voice breaking with every plea.

Outside, Bhageera was fighting his own battle, trying to calm the chaos of the kingdom. Word had spread like wildfire that their queen was in labor, and the palace grounds were flooded with people, all desperate for a glimpse, all praying loudly for their queen's safety, for a normal delivery, for the life of the baby that would soon be their future prince or princess.