👑 Rudra’s Perspective

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a deep amber glow over the Rathore Mansion. It was mid-November, and the air had a sharp, festive chill that usually left me indifferent. But today, my heart was thudding against my ribs with a restless, protective energy.

Today was the Nose Piercing ceremony—a tradition in my family for the future bride. My **Ishi** didn't have her nose pierced, and as much as I hated the thought of her being in even a second of pain, the thought of her wearing the royal Rathore *nath* on our wedding day made my blood run hot with **possessive** pride.

I stood on the balcony of the first floor, looking down at the courtyard. Her family had arrived in full force. I saw her brother and **Riva Bhabhi**, her parents, and Chacha chachi the rest of the clan—**Purav, Prachi, Naman, and Kriti**and Vaibhav. and ravi They were all laughing and talking, but my eyes were locked on only one person.

Ishita.

She looked like a literal queen. She was draped in a **maroon silk saree** that made her brown skin look like glowing marble. Her **long curly hair** had been tamed into an intricate, thick braid adorned with gold pins. Every time she moved, the sound of her **heavy silver payals**same i proposed with and the clinking of her **new bangles** echoed through the marble hallway. She was wearing the  earrings  and my **engagement ring** sparked on her finger like a promise.

Her look

But I could see it in the way she was fidgeting with her **long, manicured nails**. She was terrified.

I made my way down the stairs, my **6'3" muscular frame** cutting through the crowd. People moved aside, sensing the "Ice King" was on a mission. I didn't care about the guests or the tradition right now; I only cared about the girl who looked like she was about to face a firing squad instead of a tiny gold needle.

"Rudra," her father greeted me, but I touch his feet  my eyes fixed on Ishita.

I walked straight up to her. She was sitting on a carved wooden chair, surrounded by the women of both families. When she saw me, her **brown eyes** filled with a mix of relief and pure panic.

"Ru," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It looks so sharp. What if it hurts? What if I bleed?"

I ignored the fact that our families were watching. I stepped into her personal space, looming over her, and took her cold, shaking hand in mine. My thumb traced the back of her palm, trying to ground her.

"Look at me, Jaana," I commanded, my voice dropping into that low, **possessive** rumble that usually made her melt.

She looked up, her gaze searching my **ocean blue eyes**.

"It’s a tiny needle, Ishita. It’ll be over in a second," I said, though my own jaw was clenched so tight it ached. I hated this. I wanted to find the goldsmith and tell him if he caused her a single drop of unnecessary pain, I’d ruin him. "I’m right here. I’m not leaving your side."

"Rudra, it's a 'ladies only' ritual near the chair!" Bebe called out from behind us, half-teasing, half-serious.

I didn't move. I didn't even turn around. "She’s nervous, Bebe. I’m staying."

I leaned down, my face inches from hers, my shadow completely engulfing her. "Concentrate on me. Think about Switzerland. Think about the marks I left on your neck that you’re still trying to hide. This is nothing compared to how much I’m going to make you moan on our wedding night."

Her face turned a deep, delicious shade of red that matched her saree, and for a second, the fear in her eyes was replaced by a flash of **shameless** desire.

"Rudra!" she gasped, her breath hitting my lips.

"That’s it," I murmured, a dark smirk playing on my mouth. "Keep that fire. Don't look at the needle. Just look at me."

The goldsmith stepped forward, sanitizing the small gold stud. Ishita’s grip on my hand became bone-crushing. I didn't flinch. I let her dig her nails into my skin, welcoming the pain if it meant she felt even a little bit safer.

The gold needle caught the light, and I saw her eyes start to flicker toward it. I immediately shifted my body, blocking her view entirely, my large frame acting as a wall between her and her fear.

"Stay with me, Ishita," I growled softly, my gaze boring into hers. "Just one second, and then you're officially mine in every tradition that matters."

💖 Ishita’s Perspective

The smell of sandalwood incense and the chanting of the priests filled the grand courtyard, but all I could focus on was the object sitting on the silver thali in front of me. It was a royal Rathore *nath*—a massive, traditional nose ring crafted from heavy gold and encrusted with diamonds. It was so large, with its delicate, shimmering chain meant to be tucked into the hair, that it felt like it would cover half my face.

It was beautiful. It was royal. And it was about to be pushed through my skin.

The Puja began, and the chanting seemed to pulse in my ears. I felt like a sacrificial lamb in a maroon saree. My heart was thudding so hard against my ribs that I was sure the heavy silk of my blouse was jumping.

Suddenly, I felt a familiar, crushing warmth. Rudra’s large hand reached out and gripped mine. He wasn't just holding it; he was anchoring me. I looked up at him, and the "Ice King" was gone. His **ocean blue eyes** were intense, focused entirely on me, ignoring the priests, the guests, and the tradition. He gave me a single, slow nod—a silent command to stay brave.

"It's time," Bebe whispered.

The *sunar* (goldsmith) stepped forward. I saw the silver glint of the needle machine, and my stomach did a violent flip. My breath hitched, and my vision started to blur with a rush of pure panic. I didn't care who was watching anymore—my parents, my cousins, his family—I just needed him.

I leaned toward Rudra, **digging my long nails deep into the back of his hand**. I felt the skin break under my grip, but he didn't even flinch. He didn't move an inch.

The goldsmith’s cold fingers touched the side of my nose. "Stay still, Beta," he muttered.

I watched the needle move closer. My eyes widened, and I felt the sharp, cold point touch my skin.

"Rudra—!" I gasped.

*Click.*

The sharp sting pierced through the cartilage, and I **flinches violently**, a small, sharp **scream** escaping my lips. It wasn't loud, but it was broken. A single, hot tear escaped my eye and rolled down my cheek. The pain was hot and throbbing, radiating through my face.

Before I could even process the sting, Rudra’s other hand shot up, cupping the back of my head and pulling me firmly against his **muscular chest**. He didn't care about the ritual protocol or the fact that our elders were staring. He shielded my face from the crowd, his thumb immediately wiping away the tear on my cheek.

"Shh... it’s done, Jaana. It’s over," he growled softly, his voice a low vibration against my forehead.

I buried my face in his expensive waistcoat, my nose throbbing and my hand still clutching his. I could smell him—that dark, intoxicating scent of power and protection—and it was the only thing keeping me from fainting.

"Is she okay? Did it bleed?" I heard my Mummy ask anxiously from somewhere behind us.

"She's fine," Rudra said , his voice returning to that **ruthless, protective** tone. He didn't let me go. He kept me hidden in his arms for an extra moment, his grip almost painful in its **possessiveness**.

I pulled back slightly, looking up at him with watery eyes. The small gold stud was now shimmering on my nose. Rudra stared at it, his gaze darkening with a look I could only describe as hunger. He reached out, his finger grazing the skin just next to the new piercing.

"You look like a Rathore now," he whispered, his eyes burning into mine. "And that scream? Save it for later, Ishita. Because the next time I make you cry out, it won't be from a needle."

I gasped, my blush instantly replacing the paleness of the pain. Even with my nose throbbing, he knew exactly how to make my heart race.

👑 Rudra’s Perspective

I watched her through a haze of red-hot protectiveness. Her small, delicate nose was flushed a raw crimson, and her cheeks were stained with the remnants of her tears. She looked fragile, like a piece of fine porcelain that had just been chipped, and it took every ounce of my self-control not to roar at everyone to get out and leave us in peace.

But the ritual wasn't over.

Bebe stepped forward, holding the heavy, royal **Nath**. It was a massive circle of gold, dripping with diamonds and a single, blood-red ruby at the base. In our family, this wasn't just jewelry; it was a mark of the woman who would one day hold the keys to the Rathore legacy.

"Patience, beta," Bebe said softly, her eyes flickering to me with a knowing look. She knew I was a second away from snatching Ishita and locking her in my suite.

I watched as Bebe’s steady, wrinkled hands approached Ishita’s face. Ishita flinched instinctively, her **brown eyes** wide and glassy with lingering pain. I didn't let go of her hand. I squeezed it, letting her feel the tension in my **muscular frame**, reminding her I was her anchor.

"Look at me, Ishita," I muttered, my voice a low, commanding rumble.

As Bebe carefully threaded the thick gold wire of the Nath through the fresh piercing, Ishita let out a sharp, hissed breath through her teeth. Her eyes shut tight, and a fresh tear escaped, catching on her long lashes. The Nath was **huge**—it dwarfed her petite face, stretching from her nose to the edge of her jaw, the delicate diamond chain sweeping back to be pinned into her dark braid.

It looked heavy. It looked ancient. And on her, it looked absolutely **sinful**.

The contrast between the traditional, virginal red of her saree and the raw, throbbing pain in her expression did something dangerous to my head. She looked like a captive queen. My captive queen.

"There," Bebe announced, stepping back. "Bless you, my child."

Suddenly, the room erupted. Her parents, her chacha-chachi, and even my brothers stepped forward to offer blessings. They were showering her with flowers and well-wishes, but Ishita looked overwhelmed. Her hand was trembling in mine, and her face was still flushed a deep, painful red from the trauma of the needle.

"She’s in pain, Bebe. That’s enough," I said, my voice cutting through the festive chatter like a blade. The "Ice King" was back, and I was done with the public spectacle.

I stood up, pulling her up with me. She swayed slightly, the weight of the heavy Nath pulling at her fresh wound. I immediately wrapped my arm around her waist, hauling her into my side so her head rested against my shoulder.

"Rudra, the guests—" my mother started.

"The guests can eat," I snapped, my **ocean blue eyes** scanning the room with a look that silenced any protest. "She needs to rest."

I looked down at her. Up close, the Nath was even more beautiful, the diamonds shimmering against her heated skin. She looked up at me, her lower lip trembling.

"It hurts, Ru," she whispered, her voice so small it broke my heart.

"I know, Jaana," I murmured, leaning down so my lips were brushing her forehead. "I’ve got you. I’m taking you upstairs."

I didn't give her a choice. I swept her off her feet, carrying her in my arms in front of both our families. I didn't care about the whispers or the tradition anymore. She was wearing my family's gold, she was carrying my marks, and tonight, I was the only one allowed to soothe her pain.

💖 Ishita’s Perspective

Being swept up in Rudra’s arms in front of both our families was a blur of maroon silk and the sharp, throbbing heat in my nose. I hid my face against his neck, the cool metal of the heavy Nath pressing into my skin, as he marched up the grand staircase. He didn't say a word to the curious relatives behind us; his chest was heaving with a protective fury that only I could feel.

He kicked the door of his private suite open and shut it with his heel, locking out the world.

The room was dim, lit only by a few golden lamps, but I immediately sensed a presence. On the oversized rug near the balcony sat **Oscar**, Rudra’s massive black tiger. He was a shadow of raw power, his fur like midnight velvet. The moment his golden eyes landed on me, he didn't growl. Instead, he let out a low, huffing sound—his version of a happy greeting.

"Oscar... remember your Badi Mumma?" Rudra murmured, his voice softening just a fraction as he set me down on the edge of the high, silk-sheeted bed.

Oscar stood up, his heavy paws padding silently across the floor. He nudged my knee with his large head, and despite the pain, I let out a small, watery laugh, running my fingers through his thick fur. It was our second meet, and he seemed to recognize my scent—the scent of the woman his master had claimed.

"Stay, Oscar," Rudra commanded, and the tiger obediently lay down at my feet, acting like a giant, furry guard.

Rudra disappeared for a moment and returned with a small bowl of ice cubes wrapped in a thin, white linen cloth. He sat on the bed beside me, his **6'3" frame** towering over me. His **ocean blue eyes** were fixed on my nose, which was now swollen and a deep, angry red.

"This is going to be cold, Jaana. Hold onto me," he whispered.

He gently lifted the heavy Nath, his fingers as light as a feather, and pressed the ice pack against the piercing. I gasped, the shock of the cold hitting the burning wound. My eyes fluttered shut, and I instinctively grabbed the lapels of his waistcoat, pulling him closer.

"Mmm... it stings," I whined softly, a fresh tear leaking out.

"I know. Just breathe," he rasped. He leaned in, his face so close that I could feel the heat of his skin. He began to blow soft, cool air over the area, his focus so intense it felt like he was trying to pull the pain out of me through sheer will.

As the ice numbed the throb, the silence in the room became heavy with a different kind of tension—the **dark romance** that always simmered between us. His gaze dropped from my nose to my lips, which were parted and trembling.

"You look dangerous in this Nath, Ishita," he muttered, his voice dropping to that dark, **possessive** register. "Like a royal possession. It makes me want to lock this door and never let you walk out. I don't want the guests to see you like this. I don't want anyone to see the way your skin flushes when I touch you."

"Rudra... we have to go back down," I breathed, though I was leaning into him, my heart racing for a completely different reason now.

"No," he growled, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, his thumb tracing the hairline above my braid. "Let them wait. I want to look at you. I want to remind you that in a few days, this won't be a visit. This room will be yours. This bed will be yours. And I will be yours to command—but only after I’m done showing you exactly how much I’ve craved you these last five years."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against my temple, then my cheek, avoiding the sore nose but claiming everything else. Oscar let out a low purr from the floor, and I felt a shiver of pure, **shameless** anticipation.

The pain was fading, replaced by a fire that only Rudra Singh Rathore could light.

👑 Rudra’s Perspective

The quiet intensity in my room was shattered by a sharp, rhythmic knocking. I didn't even have to look at the door to know it was Ahana. She was the only one in this house brave enough—or annoying enough—to interrupt me when I had Ishita to myself.

"Bhaiya! Bebe is calling! Lunch is served and if you don't bring Bhabhi down in two minutes, Mummy is coming up herself!" her voice rang out, full of mischief.

I let out a low, frustrated growl, my forehead still resting against Ishita’s. Oscar, sensing my mood, let out a sympathetic huff from the rug. I looked at my Jaana; her nose was still a bit pink, but the ice had done its job. The heavy **Nath** caught the light as she smiled shyly at me.

"We have to go, Ru," she whispered, smoothing out the wrinkles in my waistcoat.

"One day, Ishita," I muttered, standing up and pulling her to her feet, "I’m going to disable every doorbell and lock every door in this palace."

We walked down to the royal dining hall. The long mahogany table was overflowing with traditional Rajasthani delicacies, and the air was thick with the chatter of our merged families. I led her to the seat right next to mine, pulling the chair out with a firm grip.

As soon as we sat, I noticed she was struggling. The massive **Nath** was beautiful, but it hung right over her lips, making it impossible for her to eat without tangling the jewelry. She tried to lift a bit of *ker sangri* with a fork, her face twisting in slight pain as the movement tugged at her fresh piercing.

I didn't say a word. I simply reached over, took the fork from her hand, and shifted my chair so close that our thighs were pressed together.

"Rudra, what are you doing?" she hissed, her **brown eyes** wide as she glanced at our parents.

"Eating," I replied simply. I picked up a small piece of paratha, dipped it into the curry, and held it to her lips. "Open."

The table went dead silent for a heartbeat. My younger brothers—**Akshat, Vardaan, and Jay**—all froze mid-bite. **Drishti, Reet, and Ahana** exchanged looks that were practically screaming with excitement.

"Oho! Look at the 'Ice King' turning into a 'Service King'!" Akshat teased, leaning back with a smirk.

"Bhaiya, at least let her hold the glass herself!" Vardaan added, laughing as he nudged his wife, Reet.

"Ishu Bhabhi, be careful," Ahana chimed in, her eyes dancing. "If you get used to this, Bhaiya will be feeding you breakfast, lunch, and dinner even after the wedding. He’s already obsessed!"

I ignored them all. To me, they were just background noise. My entire world was the girl sitting next to me, looking like a flustered rose in her maroon saree. I kept my hand steady, my **ocean blue eyes** fixed on her mouth.

"Ignore them, Jaana. Eat," I commanded softly.

She blushed a deep crimson, but she obeyed, leaning forward and taking the food from my hand. Every time she chewed, the little diamond droplets on her Nath shimmered. I felt a surge of **dark, possessive pride**. Let them tease. Let them laugh. They didn't understand that every time I fed her, I was reminding her—and everyone else at this table—that she was my responsibility. My life. My soul.

"Bhaiya is ignoring us like we don't even exist," Jay whispered to Reet, but they all knew better than to push me too far.

I continued to feed her, piece by piece, my thumb occasionally brushing the corner of her lips to catch a stray drop of gravy. The family continued their chaos—Mummy and her mother discussing the guest list, Bebe laughing with her Papa—but in my mind, there was only the rhythmic sound of her breathing and the heat of her body against mine.

"You're making them all talk," she whispered under her breath as I offered her a piece of sweet *ghevar*.

"Let them talk," I muttered, my gaze dropping to her throat, where the sapphires I gave her rested. "**I’ve waited five years to have you at this table. I don’t care if the whole world watches me worship you.**"

💖 Ishita’s Perspective

The dining hall, which had been filled with the sophisticated clink of silverware and hushed teasing, suddenly erupted into a vibrant explosion of sound. Bebe stood up, her eyes sparking with a youthful energy that seemed to light up the whole room.

"**Chacha! Bulao dhol ko!**" (Chacha! Call the drummers!) she commanded, her voice ringing with authority and joy. "**Mere Rudra ki shaadi hone wali hai!**" (My Rudra is getting married!)

I saw Rudra’s Chacha give a quick, sharp nod to one of the staff members. Within seconds, the heavy, rhythmic thrum of the *dhol* began to echo through the marble halls. The beat was infectious—a deep, booming sound that made the very floor vibrate beneath my feet.

Bebe didn't wait. She reached out and grabbed my Mummy’s hand, pulling her toward the center of the hall. My Mummy, usually so shy and reserved, couldn't help but laugh as Bebe started a graceful Ghoomar-style step. Then, Rudra’s Maa joined in, followed by both the Chachis. It was a beautiful sight—both families, the Rathores and the Sharmas, dancing together as if we had been one family for generations.

"Go on, Ishi! Go!" Riva Bhabhi nudged me, her eyes bright with the rhythm.

I hesitated for a second, feeling the weight of the heavy **Nath** on my face, but then my nephew **Purav** and Drishti’s little son **Krish** ran up to me.

"Badi Mumma! Dance! Dance with us!" Krish squealed, grabbing my hand and jumping up and down.

I laughed, my heart feeling so full it could burst. I stepped onto the floor, my **maroon saree** swirling around my ankles as I began to dance with the two little boys. I forgot about the pain in my nose, the nervousness of the ceremony, and the eyes of the elders. I just spun around, my **heavy silver payals** jingling in time with the dhol, my **long curly hair** bouncing against my back.

I caught sight of Rudra. He hadn't joined the dance—I knew the "Ice King" wouldn't be caught dead doing a Bollywood step in front of everyone—but he was leaning against a marble pillar, his **6'3" muscular frame** radiating a quiet power.

He wasn't dancing, but he was **smiling**.

It wasn't a cold or ruthless smile. It was a soft, private expression meant only for me. His **ocean blue eyes** were locked onto me as I spun around with the kids, tracking every move of my body with an intensity that made my skin tingle. He looked like a man watching his entire world revolve in front of him.

At one point, as the dhol beat reached a crescendo, I spun past him and playfully flicked the end of my dupatta toward him. His hand shot out like lightning, catching the fabric, pulling it—and me—just an inch closer for a fleeting second.

"You're glowing, Jaana," he mouthed over the noise of the drums.

I blew him a secret kiss and danced back toward the kids, my laughter joining the melody of the dhol. In that moment, surrounded by the noise, the music, and the people I loved, I realized that the "cold" prince had finally found his sun, and he was happy to just stand in my light.

The energy in the hall reached a fever pitch. Seeing me dancing with the kids was clearly the green light for the rest of the Rathore brothers to cause absolute chaos.

"Oho! If Badi Mumma is dancing, then the party has officially started!" **Akshat** yelled over the booming dhol. He and **Vardaan** rushed onto the floor, flanking me on both sides. **Jay**, the youngest, wasn't far behind, jumping into the circle with a mischievous grin.

"Come on, Bhabhi! Show us those Delhi moves!" Vardaan laughed, doing a high-energy bhangra step around me.

"Bhabhi, ignore him, dance with me!" Jay teased, spinning me around. I was laughing so hard I had to hold my heavy **Nath** with one hand to keep it from swaying too much.

Then, the girls joined the fray. **Drishti and Reet**—my future devranis—linked arms with me, creating a swirling circle of silk and laughter. **Ahana** hopped in the middle, her jewelry clinking as she matched the beat of the dhol perfectly.

"Bhabhi-Nand power!" Ahana cheered, pulling me into a synchronized step.

We were a blur of maroon, gold, and vibrant colors. I felt so welcomed, so loved. Here I was, the middle-class girl, dancing in the middle of a literal palace with the most powerful family in Rajasthan, and they were treating me like I was the center of their universe.

Every time I turned, I caught sight of **Rudra**. He was still leaning against that pillar, his arms crossed over his **muscular chest**, watching the spectacle. Akshat tried to pull him in, yelling, "Bhaiya, come on! Just one step!" but Rudra just shook his head with a smirk, his eyes never leaving me.

He looked so proud. Even though he wasn't moving, his presence was everywhere. He watched his brothers twirl me around, his **ocean blue eyes** dark with a mixture of amusement and that signature **possessive** glint. He was letting them have their moment with their 'Bhabhi,' but his gaze said clearly that once the music stopped, I belonged only to him.

I spun faster, my **long curly hair** flying wildly, my **heavy payals** singing. I looked at the brothers, then at the girls, and finally at Rudra. The pain in my nose was gone, replaced by a dizzying rush of happiness.

"I love this family!" I shouted over the drums, my face flushed and glowing.

Rudra’s smirk widened. He uncrossed his arms and took a step toward the edge of the dance floor, just watching me with an intensity that promised he’d have his own 'dance' with me later, in the quiet of the night.

The thunderous beating of the *dhol* slowly began to fade, the drummers tapering off into a soft, rhythmic pulse as the elders signaled for the music to stop. I was completely out of breath, my chest heaving under the maroon silk, and my face was flushed a deep pink—partly from the dancing and partly from the heavy weight of the **Nath** tugging at my sensitive nose.

Bebe stepped forward into the center of the hall, her presence commanding an immediate, respectful silence. She looked at me, then at Rudra, who had finally moved from his pillar to stand right behind me. His **6'3" muscular frame** felt like a warm wall of protection as he placed a steadying hand on my waist.

"Bas," Bebe whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "The dancing is done. Now, for the blessings."

Rudra and I moved together, following the silent tradition. We approached my parents first. As we bent down to touch their feet, I saw my Papa’s eyes glisten behind his glasses. He placed a hand on Rudra’s shoulder, a silent gesture of handing over his greatest treasure. Then we moved to his parents, and finally to Bebe.

"May you both be the shadow and the light for each other," Bebe said, placing a hand on my head and then on Rudra’s. "Ishita, you are no longer a guest. This house is waiting for its queen."

The emotional weight of the moment hit me hard. I realized that this was the final goodbye before the actual wedding rituals began. The next time I saw this family, I would be covered in turmeric and officially starting the journey to become a Rathore.

"It's time to go, Ishi," Mummy said softly, wiping a stray tear. "We have so much to prepare at home for the Haldi."

The departure was a flurry of hugs and last-minute instructions. **Riva Bhabhi** was laughing with **Drishti**, making plans for the sangeet, while my brothers loaded the gifts into the car.

Rudra walked us out to the driveway. The November night air was chilly, but he stayed close to me, his presence looming and dominant. As my family started getting into the cars, he pulled me slightly into the shadow of a grand marble pillar.

"So, this is it," I whispered, looking up at him. The **ocean blue eyes** were swirling with a dark, restless energy. "No contact until the Haldi?"

"I hate this tradition," he growled, his hand sliding up to cup the side of my face, being careful of the new piercing. "**Tumhe bina dekhe do din kaise nikalunga, mujhe nahi pata.**" (I don't know how I'll spend two days without seeing you.)

"It's just some days , Ru," I teased, though my heart was aching at the thought of leaving him.

He leaned down, his breath warm against my ear, sending shivers down my spine despite the cold. "Some days is too many. When I see you at the Haldi, Jaana, make sure you're ready. Because after that, the countdown to you being in my bed starts for real."

"Rudra! Besharam!" I gasped, blushing furiously as I pulled away.

I ran to the car where Mummy was waiting, waving one last time at the Rathore clan standing on the porch. As we pulled out of the gates, I looked back. Rudra was still standing there, a lone, powerful silhouette against the palace lights, watching my car until it disappeared into the Delhi night.

The distance had begun. But it was the final distance before we became one.