The Rathore Mahal stood tall like ever. Decorated with garlands of flower as if preparing for some festivity. Media and native people were crowding the main entrance. Media, for one photograph of the dynamic and sensational; the young owner of one of the leading group of industries in both Indian and International market, Rathore group of industries. The same Rudra Pratap Rathore who was known for his extraordinary achievements and business tactics. The same man at twenty seven was sent to New York at a tender age of 17, for reasons unknown. He completed his studies there and once touched the legal age, took all the responsibilities of Rathore industries on his shoulders. Today the flourishing business of this industry all over the world was the hard work of this man. While he was equally famous for his looks and magnetic personality in abroad, not many were aware of his looks in India, though his name was at the tip of their tongue. He was termed as a sort of enigma by the Indian Media.

The natives, however, had different plans. They were waiting for only a glimpse of their crown prince who returned their land after ten years. It was a matter of astonishment. The country where democracy prevailed for more than 60 years, the royal family of Rathore's ruled not only the minds but also the hearts of the people. It didn't help much when the family indulged in the politics; they once again became the god of these people.

The entrance was cleared and a black BMW with tinted glass followed by security entered the very grounds of the royal palace. Hordes of guards and servants were lined up.

The main structure of the palace was situated at a distance of eight hundred metres from the main entrance, right at the core of the stronghold. The castle proclaimed the classic blend of Indo-Saracenic extravaganza. Having been modernized to suit the taste, the palace had been significantly exposed to the Western culture, however, it did not mollify The Rajput glory. On the contrary, it highlighted the inundate of heroic past that the royals held dear to themselves. The main structure branched into several daughter forts that were flankered among the acres of royal-ground while the palace was divided into several wings. Prolific greenery bestrewed the area like rubies of the crown, lauding the main diamond: Rathore Palace.

24/7 security in accordance to the palace, both outer walls and the inner circle made it unbreachable. That said, not a single invader could set foot on the Royal grounds, much less enter the palace. Rathore Palace also had the sworn-loyalties of some of the nation-famous placating and ruthless Royal guards stationed at their service, especially the inner circles that was again divided into several groups with different reporting heads. However, the majority was the King's loyalists, few exceptions give and take.

The car drove through the path, aligned by the lush gardens on both sides.

Folk singers were singing a traditional Rajasthani welcome-song, that denoted the arrival of heroes of wars in the past. 'Kesariya Balam': Saffron love, marked the heartfelt jubilation that the palace was brimming with on the arrival of its crown prince.

The sweet voice of the folk singers travelled all the way through the small opening of the BMW's window, causing Rudra's lips to curl up into a smile. The loyal chief in security of the royal family, Raghuveer, stood beaming. The guards opened the door. Rudra and Siddharth came out. Raghuveer fisted his hand above his heart and bowed a bit as a mark of respect. On feeling a gentle touch on his shoulder, he looked up to find Rudra staring at him with eyes filled of humbleness and compassion. "Kako sa (Uncle), you are elder to me. I have told you hundreds of time, never bow in front of me."

"And I have told you hundreds of time, you are superior than me, our lord. I will do my duty no matter what," He smiled. "Welcome back, your highness, everyone is waiting."

Rajwanta Pratap Rathore welcomed her son with her evergreen smile. Decked up in a muted-peach coloured silk saree, she exuded the radiance of the queen, she was.

At a glance of their bond, no one could say that she was actually Rudra's stepmother. Rajwanta had entered the Royal family, marrying Rudra's father with a 5 year-old Veer in her arms. She was a widow and had Veer with her late husband. Rudra, who had lost his mother in a tragedy at the age of 5, was a boy of 6 at that time. When the whole palace had been apprehensive of her arrival, Rudra was the only one who welcomed her with open arms and a questionable maturity at such a young age.

Rajwanta kissed her son's forehead. Her eyes got teary seeing his presence in front of her. She registered each and every change, her handsome son went through. She welcomed both, Rudra and Siddharth traditionally, by circling the Arti plate round their faces. Rudra smiled at her "Maa," he whispered.

That word broke all the dams. She hugged her son crying her hearts out. He simply held her and caressed her head as if pacifying a child. She controlled somehow and encouraged them to enter.

"STOP"

A beautiful young girl in her early twenties stood grinning ear to ear. Maids were following her. "Dhada bhai (elder brother) cannot enter until and unless his sister wards off the evil."

Aadya Pratap Rathore, the youngest and naughtiest of the Rathore siblings, took a handful of red chillies and mustard and fully circled it around her elder brother's body, then burnt it in a nearby lamp.

"I missed you so much, dhada bhai."
She hugged Rudra. His heart swelled with pride seeing his beautiful baby sister. "I would hate to be left unacknowledged," Siddharth interrupted.

Aadya scrunched her face. "See, dhada bhai, his habits haven't changed a bit." Both glared at each other. The very next moment, Aadya was seen embracing Siddharth hard. "Missed you too, Sid bro." All of them laughed seeing her antics.

Veer Pratap Rathore cordially invited his, ever ready to protect, brother. Though only one year apart, Rudra was always his protective shield despite being his step brother. Or that was what he would like to state.

The palace rejuvenated with life and laughter on the arrival of its heir. The laughter and teasings seized abruptly when Vijayendra Pratap Rathore, Rudra's father, entered with Raghuveer following behind. This man screamed power. His face devoid of emotions dampened the atmosphere. Rudra slipped into an emotionless mask. Everyone was aware of the tussle between father and son which was years old.

"I want you in my study right now." His booming voice, capable of shaking people to core, filled the hall. "He arrived just now..." "RIGHT NOW." Vijay cut in between when Rajwanta intervened.

Rudra squared his shoulders, held his chin high and walked with elegance only he was capable of. After all, he was Vijayendra Pratap Rathore's son. "Raghuveer, make sure no one enters while we are in there."

Father and son stood face to face silently glaring, no one was ready to back off. "Why are you here?"

Rudra smirked, "I think you know, Daata (father). This is my home, isn't it?"

Vijayendra seemed contemplating Rudra. His son had a different aura. Gone was the impulsive boy, infront of him stood a man with strange calm on his face. Calm capable of destroying unexplainable things. Vijay lit a cigar and blew off the smoke.

"I didn't know, you developed a habit of smoking?" Rudra questioned.

"All these years of lonliness among crowds and separation from my son did this to me." Vijay turned towards Rudra with glassy eyes. "How are you my son?" His tone mixed with emotions, emotions he only displayed infront of his pride, his shield, his son, Rudra. However, in closed room. Outside the room they were back to being indifferent.

Rudra's lips tilted in a slanted line. He tried hard to suppress the scornful laughter. "Good."

"Do whatever you want, Rudra, but be careful. I have already lost enough, I will not lose you at any cost."

Rudra smiled, playing with the paperweight. "All these years, Daata. I was waiting for the right time. Now, when it has come, I'm not backing off."

Vijayendra eyes flicked across the room. A thoughtful look marred his face before he nodded. Rudra noticed everything with a smile, spinning the paperweight. He opened the door to walk out. He then turned and said, "Next time Daata, think twice before sending your men behind me." The paperweight stopped spinning.

Vijay's laughter reverberated the study.

"Welcome home, my son."