The Hidden Chamber
Dust spiraled in golden shafts of light as Sitara and Vivaan stepped into the sealed chamber beneath the old armory — an ancient war room left to rot in the palace's foundations. Maps curled with age, old blades rusted in silence. But what caught Sitara's eye was the locked chest, carved with a strange crest — two phoenixes twined around a flame she did not recognize.
Vivaan knelt, running his fingers over the carving. "This doesn't belong to any current house. It's older."
"Or erased," Sitara murmured.
With a grunt, Vivaan forced it open. Inside lay a bundle of aged letters, a faded journal wrapped in silk, and a single pendant that shimmered in the dim torchlight — a perfect twin to the charm Sitara had worn her whole life.
He lifted the top page, voice catching as he read aloud:
"To my beloved Padmavati —
If war ends me, know this: you and our child are the fire the world tried to hide. Let them forget me. But never forget the flame that made you."
Sitara's breath caught.
"Padmavati… that was my mother's name," she whispered. "But she never spoke of my father. Ever."
Vivaan's eyes widened. He picked up the next page, pale as ash.
"Sitara… your father was Aaryan. The third prince. The Maharaja's younger brother. You're… you're royalty."
Sitara staggered back, clutching the pendant.
"All this time. They lied to me. Hid me like a shameful secret."
The Tragedy of Aaryan and Padmawati
Through tear-stained pages, the tragic love story unfolded — of Aaryan, brave and loyal, and Padmavati, sister to the future Maharani. A union forbidden. A child born in exile. A legacy buried.
"They said she was a traitor," Sitara murmured. "That she ran away. But she was cast out — for loving the wrong man."
Vivaan's fists clenched at his sides. "She was a threat to the crown. And so they made her a villain."
"They didn't just erase their love," she said, voice cracking. "They erased me."
Vivaan stepped forward, voice low but steady.
"You weren't born from scandal, Sitara. You were born from defiance. From a love too powerful to fit inside their rules."
Breath Between the Storm
The door slammed behind them — the rusted lock jamming in place.
Sitara groaned. "Of course. We find the truth and now we're trapped."
Vivaan chuckled, leaning against the wall. "You and I, locked in a room of royal ghosts. Sounds cursed — or blessed."
She shot him a glare, but the space between them pulsed with heat. Her breath came faster. He stepped closer.
"You are the abyss I willingly fall into," he said softly, "knowing there's no way out — and not caring."
Her back hit the wall. His hands found hers, warm and trembling, drawing them behind her and securing them loosely with her silk sash. Her eyes widened.
"Vivaan…" she breathed. "You shouldn't…"
"Then tell me to stop."
She didn't.
The Kindness Beneath the Flame
Vivaan's lips met hers — hungry, aching. Yet beneath the frenzy was reverence. He kissed her like he was afraid she might vanish, like each breath was a prayer.
He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against her shoulder.
"What are you looking at?" Sitara snapped, flustered. "My chest?!"
Vivaan blinked, then laughed — a real, unguarded sound. "No. I was just… breathing. You make me forget how."
She shoved him lightly. And said in a stturing voice "You.. you pervert''
"You're fire. I'm the fool who keeps reaching for the flame, just to feel alive."
His fingers trailed up her arms, gentle.
"You act cold," he whispered, "but I know what you want. Someone to see you. All of you. Even the darkness."
Her expression softened. "And you… you make me feel like I'm not made of ruins."
Interrupted Longing
They were tangled in breath and heat when the knock came.
"Prince Vivaan! The council awaits!"
The voice shattered the moment. Silence. Then Sitara slowly slipped her hands free.
Vivaan stepped back, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"This truth," he murmured, "is only the beginning. You have a right to the fire that made you."
As the heavy door creaked open and cold light spilled in, Sitara met his gaze.
"I don't want a throne," she said.
"Then take the truth instead," he replied. "And let it burn the liars down."
They walked out — not as prince and prophetess, but as a secret heir and the only man who had ever truly seen her.
And together, they would rewrite everything.