The Forgotten Princess
Chapter 1
The Forgotten Princess
Rajasthan.
A land where ancient royal traditions walked hand in hand with modern skyscrapers.
Luxury cars sped through royal highways.
Private universities educated thousands.
Technology parks stood beside centuries-old forts.
Industries powered the economy.
And above it all stood the Rathore Royal Family.
Not as ceremonial rulers.
But as the true rulers of Rajasthan.
The royal flag fluttered proudly above the magnificent Rathore Palace in Jaipur.
A symbol of power.
A symbol of legacy.
A symbol of a family whose influence stretched across politics, business, education, agriculture, and industry.
At the center of it all was the Rathore family.
The former king, Mahadev Rathore, and his wife Gowri Rathore had built a legacy admired across the nation.
They had three children.
Mahendra Rathore.
Veerandra Rathore.
And Meera Rathore.
Years had passed.
Mahadev and Gowri had stepped away from active rule due to age.
The throne now belonged to their eldest son.
King Mahendra Rathore.
A respected and powerful ruler.
Firm when required.
Wise when needed.
A man who carried the burden of an entire kingdom on his shoulders.
Beside him stood his wife.
Queen Lakshmi Mahendra Rathore.
Graceful.
Elegant.
Compassionate.
The heart of the royal family.
Together they had four children.
Shiva Rathore.
Rajveer Rathore.
Vikas Rathore.
And little Aadhya Rathore.
Each of them different.
Each carrying the Rathore blood.
But among them, one stood apart.
Shiva Rathore.
The Crown Prince.
The future king.
Twenty-nine years old.
CEO of Rathore Industries.
The largest business empire in Rajasthan.
Thousands worked under him.
Hundreds feared him.
Millions knew his name.
Shiva stood before the floor-to-ceiling glass window of Rathore Industries Headquarters.
The city lights glittered beneath him.
His sharp jawline was illuminated by the city glow.
His broad shoulders carried an effortless authority.
His black hair reached almost to his neck.
Not untidy.
Not fashionable.
Simply his style.
A style nobody dared question.
His dark eyes were calm.
Cold.
Observant.
The eyes of a man who noticed everything.
A perfectly tailored black suit enhanced his imposing presence.
Employees became nervous when he entered a room.
Board members prepared twice before presenting reports.
Competitors feared negotiations with him.
Because Shiva Rathore never made emotional decisions.
Only effective ones.
At least outside the family.
Inside the palace it was different.
He spoiled little Aadhya endlessly.
Argued with Rajveer like a normal brother.
Protected Vikas whenever necessary.
And respected his parents deeply.
Behind the cold exterior lived a man fiercely devoted to family.
A man willing to burn the world for those he loved.
Unfortunately.
Most people only knew the prince.
Not the man.
---
Veerandra Rathore, Mahendra's younger brother, preferred a quieter life.
Though he possessed the influence and capability to hold major power, he chose to support his brother instead.
He handled royal affairs when required.
Managed several important foundations.
And acted as one of Mahendra's most trusted advisors.
His wife, Sowmya, balanced his calm nature perfectly.
Together they had one son.
Vishu Rathore.
Twenty-one years old.
Charming.
Energetic.
And often the source of trouble within the family.
---
Then there was the name nobody spoke aloud.
Meera Rathore.
The lost princess.
The daughter who disappeared.
The sister who broke royal traditions.
The wound that never healed.
Years ago, Meera had fallen in love.
Not with a prince.
Not with a nobleman.
Not with someone approved by the royal family.
She fell in love with Raghav Varma.
A young man from Andhra Pradesh.
An ordinary man.
No royal blood.
No political power.
No influential family.
Just a hardworking restaurant owner.
The royal family opposed the marriage.
Especially Mahadev.
Especially Mahendra.
But Meera chose love.
One night.
She left.
And never returned.
The royal family searched.
For months.
Then years.
Eventually silence replaced hope.
Nobody knew where she was.
Nobody knew how she lived.
Nobody knew if she was even alive.
Until recently.
A truth buried for decades finally surfaced.
Meera was dead.
Raghav was dead.
And they had left behind a daughter.
A daughter who had spent years completely alone.
---
And that daughter was currently sitting inside a small roadside restaurant near her university.
Krishna Varma.
Twenty-six years old.
Final year MBBS student.
Today she had completed her final examination.
The last exam.
The final step before becoming a doctor.
Specifically.
A future gynecologist.
Something she had dreamed about since childhood.
Krishna sat quietly near the window.
A simple plate of food before her.
For most students, today would have been celebration.
For Krishna, it felt strange.
Peaceful.
Lonely.
Bittersweet.
The restaurant lights reflected softly on her face.
She was beautiful.
Not in a glamorous way.
Not in a royal way.
In a warm way.
The kind of beauty that made people comfortable.
Large expressive eyes.
Soft features.
Long dark hair reaching below her waist.
Fair skin kissed by sunlight.
A gentle smile that appeared easily.
And an innocence that somehow survived despite everything life had done to her.
People often trusted her immediately.
Children loved her.
Patients naturally felt safe around her.
After all.
Krishna was the kind of person who worried about others before herself.
Three years ago she had lost both her parents.
The world had collapsed overnight.
Hospital bills.
Debt.
University fees.
Loneliness.
Responsibility.
Everything arrived at once.
For nearly a year she somehow managed both studies and her father's restaurant.
Working mornings.
Attending classes.
Studying late nights.
Sleeping only a few hours.
Eventually the burden became impossible.
With tears in her eyes, she sold the restaurant.
The restaurant her father built.
The restaurant filled with memories.
The restaurant she loved.
The money helped her survive.
Helped her continue her education.
But the loss never stopped hurting.
Krishna slowly took a bite of food.
Her eyes drifted toward the night sky outside.
A memory surfaced.
Her mother's smile.
Meera Rathore.
Unlike the royal family, Meera never hid the truth.
Krishna knew everything.
She knew her mother was a Rathore.
She knew about Rajasthan.
She knew about the palace.
She knew about her grandparents.
She knew about Mahendra.
Veerandra.
Lakshmi.
Their children.
Even Shiva.
Because Meera kept photographs.
Hundreds of photographs.
She often showed them to Krishna.
Telling stories.
Teaching traditions.
Teaching royal customs.
Teaching Rajasthan's culture.
Never with hatred.
Never with anger.
Only with love.
"Family is family, Krishna," Meera would always say.
"They may be far away, but they are still yours."
Many times Krishna wanted to contact them.
But how?
They were royalty.
Protected.
Powerful.
Untouchable.
Ordinary people couldn't simply call the royal palace.
So she never tried.
She accepted fate.
Or at least she thought she had.
A sudden line of black luxury SUVs stopped outside the restaurant.
Krishna blinked.
Confused.
Several security officers stepped out.
Professional.
Disciplined.
Armed.
The entire restaurant fell silent.
Her heartbeat quickened.
The officers looked around before one of them entered.
Then walked directly toward her.
Toward Krishna.
She looked behind herself.
Maybe they wanted someone else.
The officer stopped before her table.
Respectfully.
Politely.
Then spoke.
"Miss Krishna Varma?"
Krishna slowly stood.
"Y-yes?"
The officer nodded.
His expression softened.
"We have come from the Rathore Royal Palace."
The spoon slipped from Krishna's fingers.
Her breath stopped.
The world seemed to freeze.
Because for the first time in her life—
Her mother's family had finally found her.
And somewhere in Jaipur...
A prince named Shiva Rathore had no idea that a forgotten princess was about to enter his world.
A world that would never remain the same again.
