Chapter 48: 40. The Queen's Arrival

Authors pov

The Rajawats had celebrated every ritual, every tradition, immersing themselves in the grandeur of the wedding as only they could. Their palace had witnessed days of festivity, adorned with shimmering lights and echoing with the sounds of joyous laughter. And now, the moment everyone had been waiting for had finally arrived—the pheras.

The mandap stood in all its splendor, draped in marigolds and red silks, glowing under the golden light of diyas. The sacred fire crackled in its heart, its flames dancing as if eager to witness the union. The entire Rajawat family had gathered, their hearts brimming with anticipation, as they awaited the moment their son would take his vows and bring his bride home.

Revti Rajawat, the mother of the groom, stood near the mandap, her eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and emotions only a mother could understand. She was a vision of grace in her deep green Rajputi poshak, adorned with every piece of jewelry befitting her stature—each bangle and necklace carrying the weight of traditions passed down for generations. Her heart swelled with a sense of completeness, for today was not just her son’s wedding; it was the day she welcomed a daughter into their home, a girl who would be a part of their legacy, not just as a daughter-in-law but as her own child.

Beside her, Ansh Rajawat, the groom’s father, stood with his hands clasped behind him, his sharp gaze scanning every detail of the intimate yet grand ceremony. A man of discipline and dignity, he had ensured that every tradition was followed with precision. Yet, beneath his composed exterior, a father’s emotions simmered—pride, nostalgia, and an unspoken prayer for his son's happiness. His son, the boy he had once carried on his shoulders, was now a man stepping into a new phase of life.

He turned slightly towards Revti, his partner in life and now in this celebration, sharing a silent understanding. Without words, they had managed everything together—the rituals, the preparations, the endless arrangements. Every so often, he would lean in to confirm a detail, a rare softness appearing in his otherwise sharp demeanor. They were not just overseeing a wedding tonight; they were parents witnessing the beginning of their son’s new journey.

The air was thick with anticipation, the fragrance of fresh roses mingling with the earthy scent of burning ghee in the havan. It was more than a wedding; it was a promise of forever, witnessed by the very walls of the Rajawat palace, sealed in the sacred vows that were about to be taken.

The Rajawat mansion was drenched in regal grandeur, but amidst all the rich traditions and emotional moments, there was one sight that stole hearts—the boys' gang.

Dressed in coordinated kurta sets, each one had chosen a different shade, symbolizing their unbreakable bond, their brotherhood shining as brightly as the chandeliers overhead. The elegance of their attire was undeniable, but let’s be honest—it wasn’t just the clothes, it was them. God knows how breathtaking—oh, sorry, sorry—how insanely handsome they looked today! Ummmaaaah! My Rajawat babies, love you all!

And then, the moment of the evening arrived. The only and only AADISH RAJAWAT—our groom of the day—finally made his entrance! The aura, the confidence, the royalty—uff, what a sight! Because let’s be real, weddings will keep happening in the Rajawat mansion, right? Heeeheee…

Maine kuch nahi kaha! (I didn’t say anything!)

Aadish Rajawat—the groom of the day—stood as a vision of power, grace, and legacy.

He was adorned in a magnificent angarkha (a Rajput-style sherwani) in pure gold, embroidered with intricate patterns in brocade silk. The fabric shimmered under the light, exuding an aura of timeless royalty. Paired with a churidar pajama, tightly fitted at the ankles, the ensemble enhanced his regal stance, a reflection of the warriors that had come before him.

Atop his head, he wore the most significant element of his attire—the saffa (turban), a symbol of honor. It was saffron in color, richly embroidered with gold, and at its front rested a kalangi (turban ornament), featuring a precious diamond passed down through generations in the Rajawat family. This single gem carried the weight of history, the strength of his ancestors, and the pride of his lineage.

Draped over his shoulder was a silk dupatta in a contrasting shade, its luxurious folds cascading down his frame. Tucked into his waistband, it transformed his wedding attire into something more—a warrior’s ensemble. The long pearl kantha mala (necklace) resting against his chest, the gold waistband cinching his angarkha, and the armlets adorning his strong arms only added to his majestic presence.

Even his footwear was fit for a king—handcrafted Rajputi juttis, embellished with gemstones. And then, there was the final, defining touch—a sword tucked into his waistband, its presence a silent reminder of the Rajput blood running through his veins.

As he stepped into view, a hush fell over the gathering. His entire family stood frozen in place, their eyes locked onto him, their hearts momentarily forgetting to beat. Power had never looked this beautiful. Aadish Rajawat wasn’t just a groom tonight—he was a warrior, a king.

His gaze, sharp and unwavering, carried an unspoken authority, and as he walked forward, a strange tension filled the air. Throats ran dry, hands clenched unconsciously, and spines shivered. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous allure, commanding respect, admiration, and something more—awe.

Tonight, he wasn’t just a man in wedding attire. He was the embodiment of his ancestors, the Rajput warrior draped in gold, the ruler of his destiny.

Aadish Rajawat, exuding quiet strength and dignity, stepped towards his parents. With a soft, respectful hug, he took their blessings—not bending, but standing tall, as a true Rajput king would. Revti and Ansh Rajawat placed their hands over his head, their eyes reflecting immense pride, love, and silent prayers for his happiness.

He then turned to his brother, his closest confidant. There were no elaborate words, no dramatic gestures—just a firm, silent embrace that spoke volumes. A moment between brothers, acknowledging that life was about to change, but their bond never would.

With composed steps, he moved towards the mandap, his golden angarkha catching the flickering glow of the sacred fire. His sword rested at his waist, his posture unwavering, a reminder that even in love, a Rajput remains a warrior. He adjusted his saffa slightly, ensuring his kalangi sat perfectly in place, and then took his seat, exactly as Prohit ji (the priest) instructed him.

The air hummed with the rhythm of sacred chants, the fire crackling softly, as if in agreement with the prayers being offered. The weight of centuries-old traditions hung in the atmosphere, wrapping the moment in an unbreakable aura of reverence.

And then, it was time.

The priest’s voice rang through the mandap, steady and full of respect.

"Maha Rani sa, ab Rani sa mandap meh aa sakti hain." (Your Highness, now the Queen may enter the mandap.)

Aadish’s fingers instinctively brushed against the hilt of his sword, his grip firm yet composed. His gaze lifted, sharp and unwavering. Avantika was here.

As the priest's words echoed in the mandap, Revti, the Maha Rani Sa of Jaipur, with all the grace and power befitting her title, commanded her sons—Om, Rudra, and Armaan—to escort Avantika to the mandap. The three brothers, each embodying the strength of the Rajawat lineage, stepped forward with respect, guiding Avantika toward her destiny.

Aadish Rajawat, seated at the center, sat still as a statue, his gaze unwavering. His eyes were locked on the stairs, his heart racing as he awaited that one moment—the moment his love would walk into his life in the most extraordinary way. The view in front of him seemed almost too perfect to be real, like a scene plucked straight from a dream.

His heart pounded in his chest, matching the rapid flutter of his eyelids. It was as if time slowed for that brief second, giving him a chance to savor the anticipation, the excitement, and the overwhelming emotion surging through him.

In that single, still moment, his thoughts raced. The love he found in Avantika was something he could never have imagined, not in his wildest dreams. It had come to him in the most unexpected, and frankly, the most weird of circumstances. But here she was, standing before him, and with every fiber of his being, he was thankful.

Yet, amidst all the love, there was a strange numbness, a sense of something unspoken within him. Aadish knew the weight of his past— the decisions he made, the sacrifices he had to endure, the losses he suffered. It wasn’t the happiness that made him anxious, but the scars of his past, still lingering in the deepest corners of his heart.

But, even with those memories and doubts gnawing at him, he was determined to embrace this moment—the best one of his life. It was a moment he would never get back, and he was going to savor every second of it. He knew sacrifices had been made, and while he couldn't undo the past, this moment was his to live fully.

With nervousness and joy woven together, he felt a rush of emotions—the fear of losing it all, the excitement of finally having it all, and the understanding that happiness was often accompanied by sacrifice. But for now, he wanted to express the joy, the gratitude, and the overwhelming love he felt. He wanted to cherish this, describe it in a way that would forever capture the beauty of the moment— for in that very instant, his world was complete.

As Avantika descended the grand staircase, it felt as though the very heavens had opened for her. The steps, adorned like a celestial pathway, seemed to guide her down towards her destiny, a queen making her way to her king. Her face remained hidden behind a delicate veil, yet her presence spoke volumes. Each step she took was deliberate, graceful—her bangles chimed softly, her anklets whispered like distant songs, and though her gaze remained lowered, there was a quiet power in it.

As she entered the hall, the room fell into complete silence, a collective breath held in awe. Even the flames of the torches flickered slower, as if bowing in reverence to Rani herself. Her very presence radiated royalty and grace.

At the center of the ornate hall, beneath the intricately carved ceiling adorned with golden lotuses, stood the groom, Aadish Rajawat. His regal Rajput attire only heightened his presence, yet his gaze was fixed towards the arched entrance of the staircase, where Avantika was descending. His heart raced in anticipation, knowing that soon, his love, his queen, would be before him.

Every breath in the hall seemed paused as the soft jingling of Avantika's anklets echoed throughout the silent space, and then she appeared.

As Avantika stepped onto the topmost step of the grand marble staircase, the deep crimson of her Rajput poshak seemed to glow like a dusky sunset, the rich fabric glowing in the warm, golden torchlight. Her lehenga, a masterpiece woven from pure Benarasi silk, billowed gently with every step she took downward, each movement unfolding like a work of art, draped in the finest silks, golden threads catching the light.

She moved slowly, deliberately, and with a regal grace that left the room breathless, as if she were floating. Her attire was not just a reflection of tradition, but of her own inner strength, a queen walking into her kingdom, ready to embrace the love and honor waiting for her.

The intricate embroidery of real gold threads glistened under the cascading chandeliers, their zari work depicting blooming lotuses and royal peacocks, symbols of the Rajput heritage. The border of her lehenga, thick and heavy, bore delicate gota patti work, every thread whispering stories of tradition, heritage, and honor, as if woven with the very essence of royalty.

Beneath the rich layers of fabric, her feet, adorned with alta, peeked out momentarily, the deep crimson hue a symbol of marriage, while her silver payal sang softly with each step. She wore Rajputi mojaris, embroidered with golden thread and small pearls, a perfect blend of tradition and grace, resting beneath her regal aura.

Her ghoongat, a sheer odhni of organza, draped gracefully over her head and shoulders, cascading down her back like a river of molten gold. It shimmered as she moved, the edges embroidered with pearls and kundan stones, catching the light in subtle, mesmerizing patterns.

A passa dangled elegantly from her temple, its uncut diamonds catching the firelight, adding a touch of ethereal beauty to her already luminous presence. The borla, a perfect golden sphere, rested at the center of her forehead, its intricate design framing her kajal-lined eyes with divine precision.

Her jewelry was nothing short of regal, a legacy passed down through generations, each piece a testament to the royalty, strength, and grace of the Rajput women, woven seamlessly into Avantika’s very being, making her not just a bride, but a queen.

The Aadh Haar, a wide Kundan and Polki choker, wrapped around her slender neck, its emerald drops swaying lightly with every step she took, adding a touch of richness to her regal ensemble.

A long Rani Haar, layered with pearls, rubies, and gold filigree, extended down her chest, its weight a reminder of the legacy she carried, a crown of history and heritage, resting against her heart.

Her wrists jingled softly with Bajubandh (armlets) encrusted with emeralds, their green glow contrasting beautifully with the delicate Haathphool, which linked golden rings to thick, ornate kadas (bangles), the sound of each movement like a melody.

A thick gold nath (nose ring), connected to her left ear with a delicate pearl chain, rested gently against her cheek, enhancing her ethereal beauty, the curve of the nath drawing attention to the grace of her face.

The Kardhani (gold waist belt) cinched her lehenga in place, its dangling gold chains swaying with every step, a subtle but powerful accent to her movement, adding fluidity to her every gesture.

Her hands, painted with intricate mehendi patterns, gripped the thin, golden edge of her odhni, the touch of silk grounding her as she walked toward her future, each step a blend of grace and determination, a queen stepping into her kingdom.

SUkriya yrra's 💗

Hope syd apko aaaj ka chapter achha lga ho 🥹❤️‍🩹

This update was done for my ruthe huye yrra's 💗 😭 love you all 😘