Avinash Raghav was born under the marble domes of Raghavpur Palace, the last scion of a royal line fading into memory. His family moved to Bangkok when he was five, chasing modernity and business ventures. There, Avinash grew up amid neon lights and temple bells — a boy who loved silk more than swords, laughter more than lineage.

By sixteen, he knew who he was: bold, gay, and unapologetically himself. He wore sequined kurtas to school festivals, danced to Bollywood tracks in Thai night markets, and turned every stare into a smile. His mother called him “her little monsoon,” unpredictable and full of color.

Years later, when his grandfather’s health began to fail, Avinash returned to India — to the palace that smelled of sandalwood and secrets. The villagers whispered, “The prince has come back… but he’s different.”

He arrived in a flowing lehenga-inspired sherwani, emeralds glinting at his throat, and a grin that could melt marble. The palace staff froze, unsure whether to bow or blink. But Avinash only laughed, saying, “Royalty isn’t about crowns — it’s about courage.”

Over the next weeks, he revived the palace with art, music, and pride. He hosted a festival celebrating love in all its forms, inviting everyone — nobles, farmers, and artists alike. The courtyard shimmered with rainbow lanterns, and for the first time in decades, Raghavpur felt alive again.

The palace courtyard had never looked so alive. Lanterns in every shade of the rainbow swayed in the monsoon breeze, their light reflecting off marble pillars and golden arches. Musicians tuned their sitars, drummers tested rhythms, and the scent of jasmine mingled with rain.

Avinash stood at the center, his lehenga-inspired sherwani shimmering with emerald and gold. He raised his arms dramatically, his bangles catching the lantern glow. “Tonight,” he declared, “Raghavpur belongs to everyone. No titles, no walls, no whispers — only love.”

The villagers hesitated at first, unused to such boldness within royal walls. But when the music began, children ran across the courtyard, tossing petals into the air. Farmers danced beside nobles, women painted each other’s cheeks with bright gulal powders, and laughter echoed against the palace domes.

Avinash moved through the crowd with effortless charm, teasing, laughing, and pulling shy guests into the dance. His rainbow sash unfurled like a banner, and wherever he went, joy followed. “Come on, darling,” he said to a hesitant guard, tugging him into the rhythm. “Even swords deserve to dance.”

At the edge of the celebration, his grandfather watched from a carved chair, eyes glistening. Meera, the archivist, leaned close and whispered, “He has brought the palace back to life.”

The old man nodded slowly. “Not with tradition, but with truth.”

As the night deepened, Avinash climbed the palace steps, looking out over the glowing courtyard. He raised his voice above the music: “Raghavpur will not fade into silence. It will shine with every color of love. This is our legacy.”

The crowd erupted in cheers, petals and powders flying into the air. For the first time in centuries, the palace was not a monument to the past — it was a beacon for the future.

Avinash smiled, his heart full. He had returned not just to reclaim his heritage, but to redefine it. And under the monsoon sky, the last prince of Raghavpur danced — fearless, sassy, and free

......................



The celebration had ended, but Avinash could not sleep. The palace echoed with silence, broken only by the drip of monsoon rain from carved balconies. He sat by the window, gazing at the horizon, thinking of the journeys he longed to take.

India was vast, full of places he had never seen — the deserts of Rajasthan, the ghats of Varanasi, the snowy peaks of Himachal. He knew that once his king ceremony was complete, freedom would slip away. Duties would bind him, responsibilities would weigh on his shoulders, and the palace would become both crown and cage.

His thoughts drifted to Dadu, the old man who had always stood by him. Dadu’s health was fading each day, yet his spirit remained strong. Avinash remembered the joy in his grandfather’s eyes when they had traveled together to Bangkok years ago — how Dadu had laughed like a child, excited by the bustling streets and glowing temples. That memory was a lantern in Avinash’s heart.

He thought also of Dev, his cousin, five years younger, his partner in mischief. Dev had been there through everything — bunking classes, playing pranks on teachers, sneaking out for night adventures, even covering for Avinash when he experimented with nail polish, shorts, and makeup. Dev never judged, never faltered. He was the little star who always shone beside him.

But his father… strict even in Bangkok, obsessed with reputation and control. He never approved of Avinash’s friends, his style, or his truth. The day Avinash came out, his father’s silence became a wall. He stopped speaking to his son, as if love could be erased by disapproval.

Yet Avinash was not alone. His mother, gentle and unwavering, stood by him. Dadu, with his wisdom, defended him. Dev, with his loyalty, laughed with him. Together, they formed a shield against the world.

And when Dadu made the final decision — naming Avinash the last king of Raghavpur — the palace itself seemed to tremble. His father’s anger was sharp, but Avinash knew the truth: he was born this way. He was not wrong, not broken, not shameful. He was simply himself.

“I only live once,” Avinash whispered to the rain. “Why should I waste it worrying about what others think?”

The monsoon winds carried his words across the courtyard, as if the palace itself listened. Avinash closed…

The room was quiet, filled only with the heavy weight of Avi’s thoughts as he drifted back into the past. He was so far away that Dev’s sudden entrance completely startled him.

Avi was sitting there, staring into space and drowning in a dramatic pool of his own past memories. He was so deep in thought he didn't even notice the bedroom door swing open.

"Bhai?"Dev stepped in, leaning against the doorframe with a dangerously sharp smirk. When Avi didn't look up, Dev walked over and snapped his fingers right in front of his face."Earth to Bhai! What are you thinking about so deeply? Don't tell me you secretly got a boyfriend behind my back. Are you planning a grand escape to leave me behind to do all the work? Because if you are eloping, I'm tracking your GPS."Avi rolled his eyes so hard it practically hurt. "It’s nothing. Why is your sole purpose in life to disturb me? Seriously, shoo. Go back to your own room and go to sleep. You are actively ruining my beauty sleep right now."Dev didn't even blink. He just crossed his arms, looking completely unimpressed. "Nah. Not happening. And honey, looking at those eyebags? That beauty sleep is already working overtime anyway. It’s a lost cause tonight, so you might as well spill the tea."

"Get out!" Avi groaned, grabbing his blanket and pulling it completely over his head to block out his brother's smug face.Dev laughed, entirely unfazed by the dramatic reaction. Instead of leaving, he walked over to the other side of the bed, aggressively yanked a massive chunk of the blanket for himself, and collapsed face-first onto the mattress."Fine, I'll sleep. But I'm sleeping here," Dev announced, his voice muffled by the mattress.

Avi poked his head out from under the covers, glaring daggers at him. "This is my bed, you literal parasite.""Sharing is caring, Bhai. Now shut up and go to sleep," Dev mumbled, already stealing the main pillow.Avi let out one last heavily annoyed huff, realized he was too exhausted to fight a losing battle, and aggressively turned his back to Dev. Within minutes, the room fell completely quiet as both brothers finally went to sleep.

Avinash(MC)-

Dev(MC cousin brother)

Avinash woke late the next morning, the echoes of last night’s celebration still humming in the palace walls. The first thing he did, naturally, was his skin care ritual. Oils, creams, a touch of polish on his nails — each step performed with the precision of a king and the flair of a diva. He winked at his reflection.

“Ugh, flawless again. Honestly, it’s exhausting being this beautiful.”

He tilted his head, admiring the curve of his hair and the shimmer in his eyes. “Thank you, genetics. Granny gave me the ice‑queen eyes, Dadu gave me the royal mane. Together? Boom. Icon.”

His thoughts drifted to his granny, Russian by birth, regal by nature. When Dadu had gone to Harvard University, he met her — a woman from an aristocratic family, strict in tradition but radiant in grace. Their love story was whispered through the palace halls.

Avinash smirked, imagining the scene. “Granny was all rules and etiquette, Dadu was Mr. Carefree. Of course they fell in love. Opposites attract, darling. And look at me — the fabulous result After failure 💅💅”

He remembered how people described them: Dadu, handsome and kind, always helping others without expecting reward. Granny, beautiful and disciplined, with snow‑white skin and piercing blue eyes. Together, they balanced duty and desire, tradition and freedom.

Avinash leaned closer to the mirror, tracing his jawline. “I got Dadu’s black, curvy hair and Granny’s blue eyes. Honestly, I’m a walking fusion of royalty and runway. No wonder people stare.”

He laughed softly, adjusting his rainbow sash. “I was born this way, honey. I’m not just carrying their love — I’m serving it, with high cheekbones and perfect nails.”

The palace bells rang in the distance, calling him to his duties. Avinash sighed dramatically. “Duty, duty, duty. Fine. But let’s be clear — I’ll rule with truth, beauty, and a little glitter. Because why not?”

And with that, he swept out of his chamber, every step echoing with sass and destiny...

Avi was walking through the grand hallways of the palace, looking every bit like a royal prince. His peaceful walk didn't last long, though. From down the corridor, a loud, panicked stomping echoed through the halls.

"Bhai! Bhaaaai!" Dev came sprinting around the corner, his royal robes flying wildly behind him. He threw himself forward, skidding on the polished marble floor, and grabbed onto Avi’s waist. "Please don’t leave me alone! They are trying to make me do actual work!"

Avi looked down at his brother, who was currently wrapping himself around his legs like a needy toddler. Avi didn't look sympathetic at all; instead, he gasped dramatically and took a step back.

"Oh my god! Security!" Avi yelled to the empty hallway, pointing a finger at Dev. "Someone come quickly! Who let this wild pig into the palace? Catch it before it ruins the expensive carpets!"Dev looked up from the floor, his jaw dropping in offense.

"Bhai! Nahhh! I am not a pig! I am your precious, adorable little brother!""A pig is cleaner, quieter, and smells significantly better," Avi retorted, trying to shake Dev off his leg.

"Seriously, unclamp yourself from my leg, you barnyard animal. Why are you even running? Did you see your own reflection in a mirror and scare yourself?"Dev scoffed, finally letting go and standing up, dusting off his clothes with maximum attitude

. "For your information, I am a visual masterpiece. And I am running because the royal advisors are hunting me down with a stack of paperwork. I am too beautiful for budget reports, Bhai. Protect me."Avi rolled his eyes, a smirk breaking through his annoyed expression.

"If they throw you in the palace dungeon for laziness, I am keeping both pillows tonight.""You are a monster," Dev gasped."And you are a loud pig. Now move, you’re blocking my royal view," Avi laughed, nudging Dev out of the way as they continued walking down the hall together...

(All image come from goggle... created gose to makers...)