Rudra's Perspective

I stood there, a mountain of ivory silk and unyielding pride, watching her reaction to my words. Even in her highest heels, she barely reached my shoulder. She looked up at me, her beautiful face scrunching into a small, adorable pout as she realized the physical challenge ahead of her. She looked like a doll lost in a sea of red embroidery, and my heart-the one I used to claim didn't exist-thudded painfully against my ribs.

Suddenly, the music transitioned. The heavy dhol stopped, replaced by a sweet, traditional folk melody that made the entire Sharma family break into wide, knowing grins. I realized then that her father must have requested this specifically for me.

*"Jhuk jaiyo tanak raghuveer, Siya meri chhoti hai..."*

The lyrics teased me, calling me the "mighty warrior" and mocking my height, pleading for me to bow because my "Sita" was too small to reach.

*"Jai mala liye kab se hai thaadi,*

*Dookhan laagon shareer, Siya meri chhoti hai..."*

I watched Ishita. She was holding the heavy garland of fresh roses, her arms already trembling from the weight and the exhaustion of the day. The song sang about her body aching from standing so long, and I felt a sharp pang of protective ruthlessness. I had promised to be her strength, not her obstacle.

The crowd began to chant, "Jhuk jao! Jhuk jao!" (Bow down!). Akshat and Jay were laughing, ready to lift me up on their shoulders to make her struggle even more, as per tradition. They moved toward me, but I raised a single hand, stopping them dead in their tracks.

The "Ice King" doesn't get carried. And he certainly doesn't make his Queen struggle.

Ignoring the royal protocol, ignoring my $10,000 sherwani, and ignoring the gasps of the Rajasthani elite, I did something no one expected. I didn't just tilt my head.

I sank to one knee.

The hall went dead silent. A Rathore man, the top businessman in the world, the cold-hearted prince, was kneeling in the middle of the stage. My **6'3" muscular frame** was now at her eye level. I looked up at her, my **ocean blue eyes** soft and completely surrendered, stripping away every ounce of my ego.

"I told you once, Ishita," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion as I looked into her shimmering **brown eyes**. "I don't bow to God, and I don't bow to kings. But for you? I'll spend the rest of my life at your feet."

Her breath hitched, and a single, perfect tear escaped her eye. With trembling hands, she stepped forward and looped the heavy garland around my neck. The moment the roses touched my skin, a signal was given.

Above us, the hidden mechanisms in the ceiling released. Thousands-no, millions-of rose petals began to fall. It wasn't a shower; it was a storm. Red, pink, and white petals swirled around us, sticking to my turban, coating her veil, and turning the stage into a crimson sanctuary.

Through the red haze of falling flowers, I saw her smile-the most beautiful thing I had ever owned. She looked like a goddess emerging from a garden. I reached up, still on my knee, and took her hands in mine, kissing the palms where my name was hidden in her mehendi.

"My turn," I murmured.

I stood up, regained my full height, and took the second garland. I didn't make her wait. I bent down and draped the roses over her, the scent of the crushed petals mixing with her perfume. We were standing in the center of a floral cyclone, the world outside the stage completely forgotten.

"You're trapped now, Ishita Sharma," I growled softly, pulling her into the circle of my arms as the flowers continued to bury us. "There's no going back from this."

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The Varmala was over, and my neck felt three pounds heavier from the roses and the gold. We had stood through what felt like a million photos, with the photographer constantly chirping, *"Smile more, Ishita ma'am! Look into his eyes, Rudra sir!"* As if I had a choice-Rudra's **ocean blue eyes** hadn't left mine for a single second.

Finally, there was a small break before the priest called us to the Mandap. I leaned toward Kriti, clutching my heavy **Nath** with one hand because it was starting to tug at my nose.

"Kriti," I whispered urgently, my stomach letting out a traitorous growl. "For the love of Radha Rani, *koi kuch khilado* (someone feed me something). We have to sit at the Mandap all night, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to faint from hunger before the third Phere."

Before Kriti could even respond, a shadow loomed over me. Rudra was standing right there, looking like a lethal, ivory-clad God.

"Hungry, Jaana?" he asked, his voice a low, teasing rumble.

"I'm starving, Rudra," I pouted, looking up at him. "And my feet feel like they've been run over by your 'spirited' horse. If I don't get a carb in my system in the next two minutes, you're going to be marrying a very grumpy, very unconscious bride."

Rudra smirked, a **shameless glint** in his eyes. He snapped his fingers, and a waiter appeared instantly with a small plate of snacks. Rudra took the plate, dismissed the waiter with a nod, and picked up a small piece of paneer tikka with a toothpick.

"Open up," he commanded softly.

"Rudra, the guests! My lipstick!" I hissed, even as my mouth watered.

"The guests can wait, and I'll buy you a thousand lipsticks," he countered, stepping into my personal space so closely that I could smell the sandalwood on him. "Eat. I don't want you passing out when it's time to walk around the fire. I'm not carrying you through the Pheres... actually, wait, I might. It would be a great way to show everyone you're mine."

"Don't you dare," I giggled, carefully taking the bite he offered. I chewed happily, feeling a bit of my soul return. "You're so dramatic."

"I'm a businessman, Ishita," he said, leaning down so his lips were inches from my ear. "I'm just protecting my most valuable investment. You need to be in top condition for our wedding night."

I nearly choked on the paneer. I swatted his arm, my **Chooda** clinking loudly. "Rudra! Be serious! This is a holy ceremony!"

"I am serious," he said, his expression suddenly shifting to that **ruthless, intense** look that usually meant he was about to close a billion-dollar deal. He took my hand, his thumb stroking my palm. "Ishita, look at me."

I looked up, expecting some deep, poetic vow. The air between us turned heavy and serious.

"I know this is hard," he said solemnly. "The weight, the heels, the cameras. I know I've been a cold-hearted bastard for five years, and I know I don't deserve the way you're looking at me right now."

My heart squeezed. "Rudra..."

"No, listen," he interrupted, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I promise you, once we are in that Mandap, I will be the best husband you can imagine. I will protect you, I will support your dreams, and I will always, always..."

"Always what?" I asked, my eyes misting over.

"Always make sure the kitchen is stocked with snacks," he finished with a deadpan expression. "Because a hungry Ishita is a terrifying Ishita. I've seen you hangry in London, remember? You almost threw a designer shoe at your manager."

I burst out laughing, the emotional tension breaking instantly. "You're a jerk! I was stressed!"

"You were a tiny, red-faced demon," he chuckled, pulling me toward the Mandap. "Come on, my little demon. The priest is waiting. Let's go get 'handcuffed' for life."

"Wait!" I pulled back, pointing at my feet. "The heels. Rudra, I really can't walk that far. My feet are dead. They've gone to heaven."

Rudra didn't even hesitate. He looked at the guests, then back at me. "I told you I'd carry you."

"No! Everyone will talk!"

"Let them talk," he said, his **possessive** streak flaring up. He reached down, and before I could protest, he hooked one arm under my knees and the other behind my back, lifting me and my fifty-pound lehenga into the air as if I were a feather.

A collective gasp went through the hall. My Papa looked shocked, Bebe was cheering, and the photographers went into a frenzy.

"Rudra! Put me down!" I whispered, hiding my face in his neck, my cheeks burning.

"Rule number one of being Mrs. Rathore, Jaana," he growled, walking steadily toward the sacred fire. "I always get what I want. And right now, I want to get married without my bride limping like a wounded bird. Now, hold on to my neck and look pretty. We have a fire to sit around."

👑 Rudra's Perspective

I sat on the low wooden stool of the Mandap, the heat from the sacred fire warming my face. My **6'3" frame** felt a bit cramped in this position, but I didn't care. I was exactly where I wanted to be.

The Priest began chanting the Sanskrit mantras, the rhythmic flow of the ancient words filling the air. It was supposed to be a moment of solemnity, a moment of "divine union." But my bride? My bride was currently having a full-blown board meeting with her sister.

Ishita was leaning away from me, her **big traditional Nath** nearly poking Kriti as she whispered urgently.

"Kriti... did you keep my change of shoes in the car? The flat ones? Because if I have to walk back in these heels, I'm going to divorce him before the reception starts," she hissed.

"Ishu, shut up! The Pandit is looking!" Kriti whispered back, trying to keep a straight face while fanning Ishita's heavy lehenga.

"I'm serious, Kriti! And tell Jay to stop eating the laddoos meant for the prasad, I saw him take three..."

I felt a smirk tugging at my lips, but I kept my **ocean blue eyes** moving. My gaze shifted away from the domestic chaos of the sisters and landed on **Krishiv**, my head of security. He was standing near the palace pillar, his earpiece glinting under the lights. I gave him a sharp, imperceptible nod.

As a top 5 businessman in the world, my wedding wasn't just a celebration-it was a target. Every entrance was monitored, every waiter vetted. Today, the safety of my family and my woman was in his hands, and I didn't take that lightly.

"Ahem," the Pandit (Priest) suddenly cleared his throat, stopping the mantras mid-sentence.

The hall went quiet. Ishita froze, her hand still clutching Kriti's arm.

The Pandit looked over his spectacles at Ishita, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Beti (Daughter), if you are done discussing the shoe inventory and Jay's diet, perhaps we can proceed with the wedding? Or should I give the mantras to your sister and let her marry the Prince instead?"

A roar of laughter erupted from the guests. **Jay** choked on the laddoo he was currently hiding in his mouth, and **Bebe** clapped her hands in delight.

"See! I told you she talks too much!" Akshat shouted from the front row.

Ishita's face turned a shade of red that rivaled her lehenga. She quickly sat up straight, folding her hands and looking at the fire with the most "innocent" expression I had ever seen. "Sorry, Pandit ji. Please continue."

I leaned closer to her, my shoulder brushing hers. "Told you," I whispered, my voice a low, **shameless** tease. "You're lucky I'm paying him well, or he might have charged us an 'interruption fee' for your shoe-talk."

"Shut up, Rudra," she muttered, though her **brown eyes** were dancing with laughter. "You love my talking."

"I love your mouth," I corrected her, my gaze dropping to her red lips for a split second before I looked back at the Pandit. "But let's save the talking for later tonight, when we're alone. I have much better uses for your time then."

She gasped, her fingers digging into the silk of her lap. "Rudra! Serious talk! We are in front of a holy fire!"

"I am being serious," I said, my expression turning back to that **cold, princely mask** as I caught Krishiv's eye again. Everything was secure. "I'm very serious about every second I get to spend with you."

The Pandit started the mantras again, but this time, he leaned toward me and whispered, "Rathore Sahab, you might be a King in the business world, but in this house, the Queen clearly has the floor. Good luck."

I let out a rare, genuine chuckle. "I've handled hostile takeovers, Pandit ji. I think I can handle one talkative bride."

I reached out and took Ishita's hand under the cover of the silk cloth. Her palm was sweaty, her pulse racing. I squeezed it, a silent promise. The "Ice King" was finally home, sitting at a fire he didn't believe in, for a girl he couldn't live without.

💖 Ishita's Perspective

The air around the Mandap grew heavy with a different kind of intensity as the *Kanyadaan* began. This was the moment that made every realize her world was shifting forever. My **papa and Mummy** moved to sit beside me, their faces a mixture of heartbreaking pride and deep sorrow.

I watched as papa took my right hand. His hands, the ones that had held me steady when I took my first steps, were shaking. He applied the cool, yellow turmeric paste to my palm, and then to Rudra's. The scent of the earth and the spice filled the air between us. Then, with a slow, trembling motion, he placed my hand atop Rudra's large, warm palm.

As the priest poured the holy water over our joined hands, the first tear escaped my **brown eyes** and splashed onto our skin.

*"I am giving you my life, Rudra,"* my papa's voice was a mere whisper, cracked with the weight of twenty-four years of fatherhood. *"She's not just a daughter; she's my heartbeat. Please... don't ever let it stop."*

I looked at the two most important men in my life. On one side was the man who had treated me like a princess since the day I was born, a man who had worked tirelessly to fund my London dreams. On the other was Rudra-the man who looked at me not as a girl to be protected, but as a Queen to be worshipped. A man who, despite his **6'3" muscular frame** and **ruthless** reputation, was currently looking at my father with a solemnity I had never seen before.

Rudra's grip on my hand tightened-not to hurt, but to anchor me. His **ocean blue eyes** didn't flicker. He looked my father straight in the eye, his expression shifting from a businessman to a protector.

"You aren't giving her away, Sir," Rudra said, his voice deep and echoing with a **possessive** sincerity that made the guests go silent. "You're just extending her kingdom. I promise you, as long as I am breathing, the world will have to go through me before a single tear of hers touches the ground. She is my life now."

Mummy let out a sob, leaning against Papa's shoulder. I felt so many emotions-happy because I was finally his, but so incredibly emotional because I was leaving the only home I'd ever known.

"Stop crying, Ishi " Rudra murmured, leaning in so his breath fanned my cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear. "I told you, I can't handle your tears. You're making me want to skip the rest of this ceremony and carry you away right now just to make you smile again."

"You're such a 'heartless' liar," I sniffled, a small, watery smile breaking through my grief. "You're just as emotional as I am right now, don't deny it."

"I'm not emotional," he countered, his **shameless** smirk returning even as he held my hand with a grip of iron. "I'm just impatient. I've spent millions on this wedding, but the only thing I want to own right now is the right to call you Mrs. Rathore. Pandit-ji, can we speed this up? I think the father-in-law has suffered enough, and I definitely have."

The serious moment turned into a light chuckle from the nearby relatives. My Papa wiped his eyes and smiled at Rudra, a look of silent understanding passing between them. He knew. He knew that the "Ice King" was the only one fierce enough to love me the way I deserved.

"The Kanyadaan is complete," the priest announced. "Now, please stand for the Pheres."

I looked at my feet and then at Rudra. "Rudra... remember the 'dead' feet situation?"

Rudra stood up, looking lethal and regal, and offered me his hand. "Don't worry, Jaana. Lean on me. If you can't take the seventh step, I'll walk it for both of us."

👑 Rudra's Perspective

I stood up, my **6'3" frame** towering over the sacred fire, my hand still firmly anchoring Ishita's. The weight of the *Kanyadaan* was still settling in my chest-a heavy, permanent realization that this girl was now my responsibility, my soul, my everything.

"Now," the Pandit-ji announced, his voice echoing through the silent, flower-scented hall, "the groom's sister must come forward to drape the *Suhag ki Chunari* over the bride and perform the *Gathbandhan*."

I looked toward the front row. Ahana stood up, her face glowing with a mix of mischief and pure, sisterly love. She was carrying a shimmering, blood-red silk dupatta-the Rathore family's heirloom *Suhag ki Chunari*.

As she stepped into the Mandap, she didn't immediately drape it. She looked at me, then at Ishita, her eyes dancing. "Finally," she whispered. "I've been waiting five years to officially welcome a sister who can actually put my big brother in his place."

"Just tie the knot, Ahana," I muttered, though a smirk played on my lips. "Before I decide to do it myself with a double-knot heaving-hitch."

Ahana laughed and turned to Ishita. With a grace that befitted our royal lineage, she draped the heavy, gold-bordered dupatta over Ishita's head, layering it over her bridal veil. It was the final mark-the "Ice King's" colors now covered her.

Then came the *Gathbandhan*. Ahana took the end of my ivory silk stole and the corner of Ishita's heavy lehenga.

"Wait, wait!" Akshat shouted from the side, leaning in with Jay. "Ahana, make it tight. We don't want the businessman to pull a 'merger and acquisition' and run away before the seventh round!"

"Oh, he's not going anywhere," Ahana giggled. She began to tie the knot, but she didn't just tie it once. She looped it, pulled it, and tucked a silver coin and some rice into the center of the fabric.

I watched her hands, my **ocean blue eyes** softening. This wasn't just fabric. This was the 'handcuffs' I had teased Ishita about. As the knot tightened, I felt a strange sense of victory. In business, a contract is just paper. In this Mandap, this knot was a spiritual shackle I never wanted to break.

"There," Ahana said, patting the knot. "Now you two are literally inseparable. If Bhaiya wants to go to the bathroom, Ishu bhabhi has to go too!"

"I think I can manage the logistics, Ahana," I said, my voice dropping into that **low, possessive** tone as I looked down at Ishita.

She was looking at the knot, her **brown eyes** wide and emotional. I leaned in, my shoulder brushing hers. "You feel that, Jaana? That's the last of your freedom slipping away. You're officially tied to the most 'heartless' man in Rajasthan."

"You're not heartless," she whispered back, her **chooda** clinking as she adjusted her dupatta. "You're just... loud."

"I'll show you 'loud' during the Pheres," I murmured, a **shameless** glint in my eyes. I offered my arm to her, my **muscular build** providing the perfect support for her to lean on. "Pandit-ji, the knot is tied. Let's start the walk. My bride's feet are hurting, and I have a kingdom to show her."

The Pandit-ji nodded, throwing a handful of samagri into the fire. "Stand up. Groom in the front for the first four rounds. Let the journey begin."

I stepped forward, the weight of Ishita's lehenga pulling at my stole, a constant, beautiful reminder that wherever I went from this moment on, she was right behind me.

💖 Ishita's Perspective

I stood up, the sheer weight of fifty pounds of gold-threaded silk pulling at my waist, but I didn't feel the burden. Rudra's hand was there, his large, warm palm enveloping mine with a grip that said, *I've got you.* He didn't just lead me; he anchored me.

The heat of the Agni (sacred fire) rose up, witnessing the "Ice King" and the "Dreamer" finally becoming one.

### 🕊️ The First Four Rounds: Rudra Leads

**The First Phera:** Rudra stepped forward, his **6'3" frame** cutting a path through the flower-strewn Mandap.

* **The Vow:** For nourishment and provision.

* **The Whisper:** "I promised your father you'd never want for anything, Ishita," he murmured, his **ocean blue eyes** glancing back at me. "But I promise you-you'll have the world at your feet, but you'll always be the only thing in my heart."

**The Second Phera:** I stumbled slightly as my sore feet hit a stray rose petal. Rudra immediately slowed his pace, pulling my arm closer to his side so I could lean on his **muscular build**.

* **The Vow:** For physical and mental strength.

* **The Whisper:** "Lean on me, Jaana. My strength is yours now. Whether it's these pheres or the next fifty years, I won't let you stumble."

**The Third Phera:** The scent of sandalwood incense grew stronger.

* **The Vow:** For prosperity and wealth.

* **The Whisper:** "I conquered the business world for power," he whispered, a **shameless** smirk playing on his lips. "But from today, every deal I close and every cent I earn is just to see you smile. You're the only 'profit' I care about."

**The Fourth Phera:** The final round with him leading. My heart was thumping against my ribs.

* **The Vow:** For family, happiness, and knowledge.

* **The Whisper:** "This is the last time I walk ahead of you alone," he said, his voice dropping to a gravelly, **possessive** depth. "From here on, we walk as equals. But don't get too comfortable-I'm still the one who gets to decide how we spend our nights."

---

### 🌸 The Last Three Rounds: Ishita Leads

The Pandit-ji signaled for us to switch positions. Rudra stepped back, and for the first time, I moved to the front. I felt the tug of the *Gathbandhan*-the knot Ahana had tied-pulling him toward me.

**The Fifth Phera:** My **chooda** clinked as I took the lead. I felt his presence behind me like a protective wall.

* **The Vow:** For the welfare of our future children and animals.

* **The Whisper:** I looked back at him, my **brown eyes** glowing. "I'll give our home the love it's been missing, Rudra. I'll turn your mansion into a home."

* **His Response:** "Just don't bring too many stray dogs home, Ishita. I might get jealous of the attention."

**The Sixth Phera:** My feet were screaming in my heels, but the adrenaline of being his wife was numbing the pain.

* **The Vow:** For health and self-restraint.

* **The Whisper:** "I promise to keep you grounded," I teased, breathing heavily.

* **His Response:** He leaned down, his lips almost touching the back of my neck. "And I promise to keep you 'restrained' exactly where I want you-in my arms. Only one more round, Jaana. You're doing so well."

**The Seventh Phera:** This was it. The final circle. The world seemed to stop spinning.

* **The Vow:** For eternal friendship and love.

* **The Whisper:** As we completed the circle, I turned to face him. The fire was roaring. "Seven lives, Rudra. No escape."

* **His Response:** He took both my hands in his, ignoring the priest's instructions for a second. His **ocean blue eyes** were no longer cold-they were a sea of devotion. "Seven lives isn't enough, Ishita. I'm going to find you in every lifetime after this one too. You're officially mine."

The Pandit-ji threw the final offering into the fire. "It is done. The Seven Vows are sealed."

I felt like I was floating. The "middle-class dreamer" had just tied her soul to the "Cold-hearted Prince," and looking at the way he was looking at me, I knew the Ice King was gone forever.

We sat back down on the Mandap, the sacred fire now a soft, glowing ember. The air was thick with the scent of burnt ghee, roses, and the finality of what we had just done. I felt a strange calm wash over me, despite the fact that it was past 3:00 AM.

"The *Sindoor*," the Pandit-ji announced, his voice echoing in the quiet hall.

I saw Rudra reach for the small silver box. His large, powerful fingers-fingers that signed multi-billion dollar mergers-were trembling just a fraction. I looked up at him, and for a moment, the "Ice King" was gone. In his place was a man who looked like he was standing before his greatest treasure.

I tilted my head back, exposing my forehead, and closed my eyes tightly. As I felt the cool, powdery touch of the vermillion being pressed into my hairline, I whispered, *"Om Namo Parvati Patehh..."*

I heard his voice, deep and resonant, finishing the prayer right against my skin: *"...Har Har Mahadev."*

A small puff of the red powder escaped and settled right on the tip of my nose. I opened my eyes to see the Pandit-ji beaming.

"Aha! Look at that!" the priest exclaimed, pointing at my face. "The *Sindoor* has fallen on the bride's nose. In our Shastras, they say this is the ultimate proof-the husband's love for his wife will be boundless. He will be her slave for life!"

The hall, filled with relatives who had stayed awake through the night, erupted into cheers and whistles. Jay and Akshat were hooting, and even my Dada was laughing through his tears. I looked at Rudra, expecting him to be annoyed by the "slave" comment, but he just looked at me with a **shameless, possessive smirk**.

"The priest isn't telling me anything I didn't already know, Jaana," he murmured, his thumb reaching out to gently smudge the red powder on my nose instead of wiping it off. "It stays there. I want everyone to see how much I'm going to ruin you with love."

👑 Rudra's Perspective

My Maa stepped forward, her eyes wet with joy, and handed me the **Mangalsutra**. It was heavy, made of pure black beads and diamond, but the centerpiece was what mattered. I had it custom-designed-the gold pendant bore the initials **RSR**.

It matched the **'I'** I wore on my engagement ring. A mark of ownership. A mark of belonging.

I moved behind her, my **6'3" frame** leaning over her delicate, **brown-skinned** shoulders. I could feel the heat radiating from her body. As I brought the gold chain around her neck, I saw her shiver. I fumbled slightly with the clasp-my heart was racing harder than it did during my first board meeting.

*Click.*

The lock snapped shut. She was mine. In the eyes of the law, the gods, and the world.

I didn't move away. I stayed there, my hands resting on her shoulders, looking at the **RSR** resting against her collarbone. I leaned down and pressed a long, firm kiss to the center of her forehead, right where the *Sindoor* began.

"You're a Rathore now, Ishita," I whispered, my voice thick with a **ruthless** devotion. "My Queen. My life. My everything."

She turned slightly in my arms, her **brown eyes** wide and shimmering with love. The late-night fatigue was gone, replaced by a soul-deep connection that made the rest of the world fade into a blur.

"I love you, Rudra," she breathed, her **chooda** clinking as she reached up to touch the Mangalsutra.

"I know," I replied, a **predatory, loving glint** in my **ocean blue eyes**. "And I'm never giving you a reason to stop."

The Pandit-ji stood up, showering us with flower petals. "The ceremony is complete. You are now husband and wife. Take the blessings of the elders."

The fire was cooling, but the air between us was electric. The Pandit-ji cleared his throat, holding a sacred scripture. "Now, before you leave this Mandap, you must accept the *Vachans*-the solemn promises that bind a Rathore King to his Queen."

I sit on seat back my **6'3" frame** casting a shadow over the sacred fire. At my feet, the traditional lines of turmeric and flour were drawn on the floor-the boundaries of our new life. As per the ritual, with every promise, I had to use cotton to gently wipe a line away, signifying that any obstacle between us was being erased forever.

**The First Vachan:** *To provide and protect.*

The Pandit-ji spoke: "You must promise to provide her with every comfort and protect her honor before your own."

I looked at Ishita. Her **brown eyes** were wide, reflecting the flickering embers. I moved cotton, wiping the first line of turmeric.

"**Accepted,**" I said, my voice a deep, **possessive** rumble. "I didn't need a ritual to tell me this. My wealth is hers, and my life is the shield around her."

**The Second Vachan:** *To share the joy and the burden.*

"You must promise to treat her joys as yours and her sorrows as your own."

I wiped the second line. "**Accepted.**" I leaned in slightly, my **ocean blue eyes** locking onto hers. "Her laughter will be my only profit, and if anyone brings her sorrow, they deal with me."

**The Third Vachan:** *To be faithful in thought and deed.*

I didn't even wait for the priest to finish. I wiped the third line with a sharp, decisive movement. "**Accepted.**"

The world knows me as the "Cold-hearted Prince," but they don't know that my heart only has room for one occupant. I've waited five years; my loyalty isn't just a promise, it's my reality.

**The Fourth Vachan:** *To involve her in all decisions.*

This was the one that made my brothers, Akshat and Vardaan, smirk. The "Ice King" doesn't ask for permission.

I looked at Ishita, seeing the "beginning model" who had challenged me in London. I wiped the line. "**Accepted.**"

"She isn't just my wife," I added, looking at the priest. "She is my partner. From the boardroom to the bedroom, her voice is the only one I'll listen to."

Then, it was her turn. She had to promise to be my strength, the light in my cold palace.

**The Fifth Vachan:** *To manage the household with love.*

Ishita's **chooda** clinked as she folded her hands. "Accepted," she whispered, her voice sweet but firm.

I watched her, my **ruthless** heart softening. I knew she'd turn my marble mansion into a home filled with the scent of jasmine and the sound of her curly hair brushing against my silk pillows.

**The Sixth Vachan:** *To stand by me in times of war and peace.*

She looked at me, her **brown skin** glowing under the red veil. "Accepted."

"Good," I murmured so only she could hear. "Because being married to me is a war against the world, Jaana. I need you right in the trenches with me."

**The Seventh Vachan:** *To be my best friend forever.*

The final line of flour was left. The Pandit-ji looked at us both. "Will you be each other's soul-shadows until the sun turns cold?"

I reached out and took her hand, my thumb stroking the **RSR** initials on her Mangalsutra. Together, we wiped the final line away.

"**Accepted,**" we said in unison.

"It is finished," the Pandit-ji announced. "The Ice King has found his thaw. The Dreamer has found her Kingdom."

I stood up, pulling Ishita with me. I didn't care that her feet were "dead" or that the elders were watching. I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her **slim build** flush against my **muscular chest**.

"The promises are made, Ishita," I whispered into her ear, my lips lingering on her skin. "Now comes the part where I spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret saying 'Accepted'."

She leaned her head on my shoulder, her heavy **Nath** catching on my sherwani. "I already don't, Rudra. Now, can we please go? I think my feet are actually going to fall off."

I chuckled, a rare, genuine sound of joy. "Akshat! Bring the car to the Mandap steps. My Queen isn't walking another inch."