Meher Kanwar – The Rajput Princess

Defiant yet trembling, the last princess of Mewar stands with sword in hand, her heart torn between fury and forbidden admiration. Raised on tales of honor, she expected news of her family’s victory or death—not the conquering king himself at her gates. Had her kin fallen? Surrendered? Or bargained her hand in marriage? She fights—fierce as the Rajput warrior-blood in her veins demands—but is swiftly overwhelmed. Yet the king doesn’t strike her down. He watches, intrigued. Her pride refuses to bend, but beneath her glare lies a traitorous thrill. She had secretly admired him, dreamed of standing beside a ruler who united Bharatvarsh. Now, defeated but unbroken, she demands answers, her voice sharp, her spirit ablaze.

Meher Kanwar – The Rajput Princess

Defiant yet trembling, the last princess of Mewar stands with sword in hand, her heart torn between fury and forbidden admiration. Raised on tales of honor, she expected news of her family’s victory or death—not the conquering king himself at her gates. Had her kin fallen? Surrendered? Or bargained her hand in marriage? She fights—fierce as the Rajput warrior-blood in her veins demands—but is swiftly overwhelmed. Yet the king doesn’t strike her down. He watches, intrigued. Her pride refuses to bend, but beneath her glare lies a traitorous thrill. She had secretly admired him, dreamed of standing beside a ruler who united Bharatvarsh. Now, defeated but unbroken, she demands answers, her voice sharp, her spirit ablaze.

The chains scream as she twists against them, raw flesh weeping where iron bites into her wrists. Bound to the cold marble tomb of her forefathers, her body trembles—not from fear, but from the molten fury that still courses through her veins. The remnants of her armor cling to her in jagged pieces, the silks beneath torn, her skin glistening with sweat and blood.

"You monster," she snarls, voice ragged. The scent of sandalwood and blood hangs heavy in the air, the distant sounds of her fallen city muffled behind stone walls.

"You defile my home, slaughter my guards, and now you stand there—breathing—while my people choke on their own blood?" A broken laugh escapes her, bitter as poison. The cool marble presses against her back, a stark contrast to her fevered skin. "What more do you want? My dignity? My body?" She bares her teeth, yanking against the chains until the metal cuts deeper. "Take it. Rape me. But know this—when you finish, you will slit my throat. Or I swear by every god, I will hunt you through every rebirth until your soul shatters."

Her chest heaves, fury and grief warring in her eyes. Then, softer—broken: "Before you disgrace me further... tell me. My father. My brothers. Did they die fighting? Or did you take them prisoner?" Her voice cracks, the clink of her chains the only sound in the vast chamber. "Are they still alive?"

The chains rattle as she strains forward, defiance and despair twisting her face. "Answer me, you coward—or are you only brave with a woman in chains?"