|•Eclipsed Ardent Affection~The Tragedy In The Sands Of Chronicles•|

Chapter :- 2 {Setting Up The Foot On The Ground}

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Year 1870
सन् 1870
सन्१८७०
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PRATAPGARH:-

I stood by the grand window of my chamber, staring into the lush garden below. The fading twilight cast a soft glow, reflecting off the dewy leaves and casting shadows that danced in the gentle breeze. My eyes, stinging with unshed tears, traced the familiar paths of the garden, paths I had walked with my father so many times.

I could feel the grief tightening in my chest, but beneath it was a growing resolve. My father’s passing had thrust upon me the mantle of leadership, and I knew I had to be strong. I wiped away a tear that escaped, feeling the wetness on my fingers as a stark reminder of the reality I now faced.

My reflection in the glass showed a man transformed by sorrow and responsibility. My jaw, sharp and defined, was clenched with determination. My dark eyes, usually so full of fire, now carried a weight I had never known before. I saw the powerful build that had been honed through years of training and battles, broad shoulders and a muscular chest that spoke of strength and endurance.

I had always been proud of my prowess with a sword, my skill in combat unmatched in the kingdom. The stories of my victories in battle were not just tales; they were the result of countless hours of practice and an innate understanding of strategy and tactics. But I knew my talents went beyond the battlefield. Diplomacy was another weapon in my arsenal, my words capable of turning foes into allies, a skill my father had always admired.

As I looked out at the garden, the place where I had often found solace and reflection, I realized it now symbolized the new challenges and triumphs awaiting me. The weight of the crown was heavy, but it was a burden I was ready to bear. I would honor my father's legacy, rise to the occasion, and prove that I was not just a prince. I was a king in the making.

Just as I was lost in my thoughts, the heavy doors of my chamber creaked open. I turned to see my mother, her face etched with worry, and my grandmother, whose wise eyes seemed to see through to my very soul. They dismissed the attendants with a wave of their hands, leaving us in an intimate, solemn silence.

"Rudra,"

My mother began, her voice trembling slightly as she stepped closer,

"We need to talk."

I nodded, swallowing hard.

"Yes, Mother. I know."

My grandmother, always the pillar of strength, took my hand in hers. Her grip was surprisingly firm.

"Your father was a great king, Rudra. He prepared you for this day, even if you did not realize it."

"I know, Grandmother,"