Ep 1 - The beginning
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Hey My patoties...well hello I'm Peri peri, your authy.... And I present you my story. I'm not too good at this but I hope you don't mind some mistakes
So let's begin the story...enjoy~~
The walls of the underground chamber bled shadows, thick and suffocating. Torches lined the stone, their flames flickering against iron shackles and the trembling body chained to the center of the room. The spy coughed, blood dripping from his split lip, but the sound died quickly when heavy boots echoed across the floor.
Yuvraj Singh Rajvansh entered with the grace of a king and the menace of a predator. It was his eyes—sharp, merciless—that commanded the air. Two of his men followed silently, their presence only adding to the weight of power that hung in the chamber.
The prisoner dared a glance upward, and Yuvraj’s slow smile froze him in place. He didn’t need to raise his voice. He didn’t need to lift a weapon. Power rolled off him like smoke from a fire, thick and inescapable.
Yuvraj Singh Rajvansh-ML
“You know what I hate most?” Yuvraj’s voice was calm, velvet smooth, but laced with venom. He crouched before the spy, his gaze unblinking. “Not betrayal. Betrayal I expect. What I hate… is stupidity.”
Spy
The man shivered, his lips moving in broken pleas, "I-i...p-pleas-"
but Yuvraj silenced him with a slight tilt of his head.
Yuvraj Singh Rajvansh-ML
“You thought crossing me was a choice,” he whispered, leaning closer until the spy could feel the cold edge of his presence. “But choices…” His hand rose, trailing lightly against the prisoner’s jaw before gripping it with sudden force, “…they belong only to kings.”
A single nod from Yuvraj, and one of his men struck—the crack of bone echoed in the chamber. Yuvraj didn’t flinch. He simply straightened, his silhouette framed by the torchlight, dark and commanding.
Yuvraj Singh Rajvansh-ML
“Make sure he dies remembering my name,” he ordered softly, almost like a lover giving instructions. “Yuvraj Singh Rajvansh. King of Rajasthan. King of his grave.”
The chamber filled with the spy’s screams, but Yuvraj was already walking away, his cloak trailing behind him like a shadow that would never end.
The screams still echoed down the stone corridor long after Yuvraj Singh Rajvansh had left the chamber. He didn’t turn back. He never did. Mercy was for men who needed to prove their humanity. Kings didn’t.
The heavy door slammed shut behind him, muffling the chaos, and the corridor stretched before him like a path carved in shadow. His two men followed in silence, their heads bowed. None dared speak—not when Yuvraj’s silence weighed heavier than words.
Outside, the night was cool, the desert wind carrying the faint scent of sand and smoke. Parked at the edge of the fortress was a sleek black Rolls Royce, its body gleaming beneath the pale moonlight like a predator crouching in the dark. The driver rushed forward to open the door, his movements sharp with fear rather than respect.
Yuvraj slid into the leather seat with the ease of a ruler settling into a throne. The faint smell of cigar smoke and oud clung to the car’s interior, mingling with his own cologne—a rich, intoxicating trail that was as much a signature as his name.
The car purred to life, gliding through the narrow stone streets of the old city before spilling onto the open road. From the tinted windows, the desert sprawled endlessly, shadows stretching long beneath the stars. Yuvraj leaned back, one hand resting against his jaw, his expression unreadable
In the distance, the silhouette of his palace rose against the horizon—an opulent fortress of sandstone and marble, domes crowned in gold, guarded not just by history but by fear. It wasn’t just a palace. It was his empire.
As the car slowed before the massive gates, guards snapped to attention, their salutes crisp, their eyes downcast. The gates creaked open, revealing sprawling courtyards lit with golden lamps, fountains whispering in the night, and walls that seemed to hum with the secrets of kings and criminals alike.
The Rolls Royce came to a halt at the grand entrance. A servant rushed forward, bowing low as he opened the door. Yuvraj stepped out, the faint rustle of his sherwani breaking the stillness. His eyes swept over the palace he ruled—half crown, half empire of blood.
Without a word, he ascended the marble steps, each stride steady, inevitable, as though the very palace bent to his will. Behind him, the night closed in, carrying the last trace of screams from a dungeon that no longer existed in his world.
The grand hall swallowed him in silence as he crossed its polished marble floor, footsteps echoing beneath chandeliers that dripped gold and crystal. Servants bowed as he passed, but he gave no glance. Power like his didn’t need acknowledgement—it demanded it by existing.
He dismissed his men with a flick of his hand at the corridor leading to his private wing. The double doors to his chambers opened at his approach, carved teak polished until it gleamed. Inside, the world shifted. No longer dungeon-dark or court-grand, his room breathed understated luxury—velvet drapes, deep mahogany shelves lined with books, and a single lamp burning golden against the night
Yuvraj shrugged off his shirt letting it fall across the arm of a chair, and lowered himself into his recliner. The leather sighed under his weight as he leaned back, shoulders finally unclenching. For a moment, the king looked less like a ruler and more like a man.
He reached for the crystal decanter at his side table, poured amber whiskey into a glass, and swirled it once before taking a slow sip. The fire traced down his throat, warming the edges of the cold still clinging to him from the dungeon. His gaze grew distant, sharp eyes clouding—not with weakness, but with memory.
From the pocket of his sherwani, he drew out something that didn’t belong to this world of shadows and power: a pair of silver anklets, delicate and glinting in the lamplight. He turned them in his hand, fingers brushing over the cool metal as though it might burn him.
A ghost of a smile touched his lips, faint, almost reluctant. But his eyes—dark, unreadable—betrayed something else. Longing. Possession. Obsession.
The mysterious girl. The one he’d seen just once, slipping through a crowded temple courtyard like a vision carved from moonlight. The anklet had fallen then, unnoticed by her… claimed by him.
He raised the glass of whiskey to his lips again, exhaling a quiet sigh that fogged the rim. His empire was built on blood and fear. Yet tonight, with silver chains resting against his palm, Yuvraj Singh Rajvansh was haunted not by enemies or betrayal—but by a girl whose face he couldn’t forget.
And in his world, anything he couldn’t forget… he would claim.
Authy
So let me know how you like the story.. And if I should change it I was planning to give a character update too so let me know about that
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so that's it for today...Byee Patoties see you in next chapter
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