𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧

91⚚ Princess and Her Assassin

10 years later. 

The Kshatriya Kingdom shimmered like a jewel tonight. 

The streets glowed under the warm golden lanterns strung from one rooftop to another, and the air was alive with laughter, chatter, and music. 

Everywhere one looked, there was life, little children ran barefoot through the cobblestone lanes, their giggles echoing as they burst bright crackers that painted the sky in red and silver; elders sat outside their houses, clapping along to the rhythmic beats of the drums that rolled through the city; vendors called out happily, selling sweets, bangles, and garlands of jasmine that perfumed the entire market street.

The kingdom was celebrating... but tonight wasn't just any night.

It was their Diwali night.

Within a few minutes, every soul in Kshatriya would gather in the grand palace grounds, waiting with eager hearts and smiling faces. 

Because tonight, their mighty King and their beloved Angel Queen, along with their family, were going to join the people to celebrate the festival together, just as they had done every single year without fail.

That is what made this royal family so loved, so theirs.

It didn't matter how many crowns sat upon their heads or how many titles the world gave them — to the people of Kshatriya, they were family. 

And the King and Queen had always made sure it stayed that way.

No matter how grand the occasion, no matter how busy the duties, they always found time to stand among their people, to share laughter and sweets, to bless the newborns, and to dance along when the drums played too loud.

"Because Kshatriya is not just a kingdom," their Queen had once said with a smile that lit up a thousand hearts. "It's our home. And all of you are our family."

The King might not have echoed those words, he never did. He preferred his silence, his calm, his unshakable poise. But everyone had seen it. They had felt it. That deep, unspoken love he carried for his people... the protective warmth that shone through his eyes even behind that cold, regal expression.

And of course... they had seen how that same face transformed completely when his Queen stood beside him. That small, rare smile he reserved only for her and for the little ones who clung to their mother's saree.

The people adored their royal family not out of duty, but out of devotion. 

Which was why the palace never went a single week without receiving small gifts from the citizens, handwoven shawls, clay lamps, baskets of fresh strawberries, toys carved from wood. The King and Queen accepted each one with a fond smile, as if each token carried a piece of their people's hearts.

Coming to the royal family... oh, how the years had flown.

The once little star of the Kshatriya Kingdom, their beloved princess Sharvi, was now fifteen — soon to turn sixteen — and she had become the very image of her mother. 

The same soft brown eyes that carried the warmth of sunlight, the same gentle smile that could melt even the iciest hearts, and that same quiet strength that lived within her, the kind that didn't roar, but shone.

Sharvi was every bit her mother's daughter... graceful, patient, and kind. Yet, when the situation demanded, she could turn into a fierce lioness, protective and commanding, just like her father. 

People in the palace often whispered that she carried both her parents' souls within her, her mother's heart and her father's fire, and that made her the perfect heir to Kshatriya.