The Vicious Love Of Royals (Politically Royal Love Collection Novella BOOK)

TVR - 05

EKVARTHYA

I knocked on the door three times before I opened it forcefully, and found Ahilya sitting on the armchair with her eyes catching my sight.
“You could have opened the door if you were inside!” I told her before entering.
“Or were your feet heavy from all the false grudge you hold against men?” I said my eyes running to the corner cabinet of the room, where usually things are placed.
And the utmost one I demand at this current moment must be placed.

She only rolled her eyes before she engulfed herself back into whatever she was doing, I didn't spare a glance her way.
“What are you searching?” She implored her curiosity in the question.

“Storeroom keys!” I spat, and went over the drawers, opening the first,

“Oh, so you do know this is not the common storage room for you to go through our drawers?” She statistically spoke as if her words weren't conventional for me to enter their bedroom and open their drawers.

“It's not like I will find your things in the drawer! All you both use is the bed!” I said and continued my search.
“And the throne!” She said completing an already finished sentence.

Suddenly I heard the ring of the keys, and turning around I found her retracting the ringlet from her waist and ringing it in the air, to show me it was there. “Now that's an area I would have never searched at!” I said pacing my way on her taking the ringlet of keys from her hand, and retracing my steps backwards to leave the room.

But halting on the threshold, “Also, you saved Daharthya from being slaughtered by me just now.  Because I don't want that throne anymore!” I said, before turning and starting to leave, hearing the word behind me.

“And they say, without violence, no conflicts can be prevented.”

The keys clattered on my footsteps while I approached the room door, and halted on the front finding the right key for the lock.
Before stepping is die the room, there was minimal dust but it was almost a two-floor warehouse for a storeroom because this was an entire collection of our ancestors.

I came from the Chandra jyoshna, mean moonlight's house, after hearing what she has been through at the hands of that buffalo.
Violence was something that recessed many emotions in me to suspend his life, his breath, his lungs.

But the rape, made me believe why one created the concept of show.
Something which is meant to relish.

I went through a floor storehouse with only machinery and old items from our dead great forebears.
It was hard to laud the items that had accumulated inside the room, I heard another foot presence in the room.
I halted and turned towards the man standing next to me.

“What are you looking for?” He asked me, the king. And I shook my head and started to search deeper inside the dust. “Ekka! I know you have been going to that woman's house, what are you looking for I ask?” He demanded suddenly.

I halted in the dust and pivoted myself, “You are very well aware dear king, that I always joke about killing, my travesty and farce are only limited to entertainment. But for the first time today, I felt like, nah! Honestly, you don't deserve that throne!” I said brutally.

My brother stared at me, a smirk pulling but eyes suggesting the hurt he bore from my statement, “A king who chickenheartedly stepped backwards knowing a woman was suffering under his rein. Is nothing but a loser,” I said before I returned to my operation.

“Today you save one, tomorrow you save 10. And alternately you save 100, then 1000 and then a million maybe. You kill all the men who do what he did, make 1000 women widows. And then let them find their own pace, their world and life. And you keep killing until every male species is dead. Then what?” He asked me, “1000 more will be born, not here somewhere else, will be raised with the same mentality, with the same ideology. You will teach them, they will listen to you at a certain point, and they will somehow get the taste of freedom, power, and strength, get addicted, and once again do the same thing. And worst is, more than 90 per cent times? It's a woman only who will teach these fresh bones to be this dirtbag. You can fight people who when you there is hope, or else it's all caricature, a parody of an unending cycle,”  he tried to justify,