Unmasked

Summary: I am revoking the regency on Shrighar.

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"Veer..." She mutters, as the last of her consciousness fades away. "Veer..."

Once upon a time he had held a silly grudge on her for taking another's name with what she thought was her last breath, now that it is his name that she takes - his hand that she refuses to let go - Veer learns anew how excruciating it could be.

Farook could have killed him, gutted him open and caused less pain. It is maddening and it continues.

Farida is taken almost immediately for a surgery and Amrit too is taken into the intensive care. The doctor has words for him, words that crumble the last of his reserve.

"She's in a too early stage of pregnancy for the fetus to survive excessive bleeding. Your highness we might not be able to save the child."

The doctor drones on about initial blood work that confirmed pregnancy, about paperwork, consent, procedures and signatures and all that reels in his head, running on a pulse pounding repeat is the only phrase that made sense to him.

"We might not save the child."

The child.

A child.

Their child.

A joy they should have discovered. A news they should have shared. Maybe a secret they should have enjoyed keeping for a while. Dreams they would have seen. A family they would have had.

Might not survive.

The doctor had barely walked off with his signatures when Veer collapses on his knees, face buried in his hands.

What would he tell Amrit? Good lord, how will he answer her?

Why? Why them? Why him? Why his baba sahab and now this tiny life he made?

Footsteps make him pull back short. Rising his head Veer sees it is Randheer, white as a ghost, standing before him.

He gathers himself with a cold fury he wasn't aware he possessed until then.

Randheer brings with him a staggering reminder of his own naivety. His glaring ignorance that almost caused them their child.

It settles against him like poison. This bone deep love that he feels for a child yet to be born, this devastation, if that is how a parent feels for their progeny- if that is what love feels like, when one loved their children - he had nothing to do with Nalini Devi anymore.

The step he takes towards Randheer is decisive enough for the man to take a cautionary step backwards.

"Bhai," he says awkwardly.

"I'm not your brother."

"Look - I- jo bhi Hua galat Hua- bohut galat Hua. Humne kabhi soche bhi nahi the ke -"

"Shravan!" When Veer raises his voice Randheer falls silent, watching him with a flicker of terror in his eyes.

Both Shravan Singh and Vijendra responds to that call, approaching them. Behind Shravan with guard of Shrighar Nayantara Singhania is arriving. Veer's eyes shifts to them, then returns to Randheer.

"Shravan," he repeats. "Inke Ma Sahab tak humara aadesh pohochaya jaayein. She has tonight to clear her things away and return to our Manor house in Delhi with or without her son, and she will await the Panchayat decision there. I am revoking the regency on Shrighar. Rajmata ki raaj katam."

*

All this time they were building card castles. Chandra Singh Rathod may fancy himself a king, still his castle is made of cards. One gust of wind is all it needs. One card falling is all it needs.

Farook Ansari turns out to be that card for him.

Veer knows he could probably rip the man apart limb by limb if he was to set his eyes upon him, he is dying inside, a little bit more with each breath he takes. Any physical harm he could inflict on Farook would not be enough.

His clenched fist bangs on the door frame and makes it rattle. Sharp pain that shoots through his knuckles makes a strained link with his sanity.

Tattered as it is Veer hangs to that faint link of control as he turns firmly away from where the man awaits his fate, to face another man who is as much entwined with his fate as Farook is with Amrit's.

His expression gives Vijendra a pause. He shifts a little before meeting Veer's gaze.

"It was you," Veer tells him rather finitely. "I remember you now."

In the pause that follows Vijendra tries to speak, but is silenced by Veer's gesture.

"Please don't lie to me. Ab bohut hogaya."

His imploring eyes make Vijendra bite back the denial. But he is still determined to speak. Veer walks away from the tempting murder that awaits behind the holding cell and Vijendra follows.

"Just tell me," he swallows thickly.
"Bass itna bata dijiye..." A pause, a sigh. "Did baba sahab order you to -?"

"Of cause not."

Veer heaves a sigh, his shoulders visibly relaxes. The older man approaches him and lays a cautious hand on his back.

"I will not lie. You have my word. Joh gunah hunse hui hai hum usske safahi nahi denge. It was no accident that I pushed Prem down. I did it consciously. Deliberately. I did it knowing full well that Kuwar Prem will not die there. But had I not put him in danger - you, the last duty my king had left me, you would surely die.

"There - then. Or later in another attempt. I would not have always been there. Unhoni ko hone mein ek shan lagti hai bete, and I couldn't take the risk of a second with you."

"What I wanted was for the man who came for you to see Prem in danger. To divert their energy into saving him instead of harming you."

"In return you painted me a murderer in her eyes," it is with accusation that Veer turns to face him.

Vijendra shakes his head slowly.

"She is determined to hate you. Prem's existence would not have changed it."

In silence they turn away from each other. Veer wonders why he keeps on this failing battle of loving his mother, of finding reasons to forgive her hatred.

"I was sworn to mend cracks in your relationship with her, but Veer you must see it now - as your baba sahab should have all those years ago. This is not a crack but a chasm. And she is hell bent on burning any bridge made across it. You can't help her. No one can. Some people come to a point - a point where - dand hi kshama hai beta."

Seeing that Veer did not intend to grace him with a reply, Vijendra sighs and steps away.

"Bhaki jaise aap teek samjhe, Kuwar sahab."

He makes to leave and halts when Veer speaks after him.

"You can question him," he says. "Make sure that when you do, Chandra Singh Rathod is duly notified. I don't want that man's blood on my hands. Why bother when Chandra would do it?"

"If you want - I could..."

"Nahi papa sahab," his tone is mild, almost apologetic. "You don't have to soil your hands for me anymore. Bohut log bohut kuch kar chuke. Ab woh sab wapas chukane ke baari hai."

"Veer..."

"I'm not a good man papa sahab, a lot of people are yet to learn that."

*
I'm really sad about the wait between chapters.

Since these are last few weeks of the year I'm busy with work commitments and some travelling is always involved.

Plus, maybe silly of me, I'm trying to finish writing CK, or build up on reserve chapters before posting. That takes time.

I hope you understand that our updating schedule isn't up to its mark anymore. But as soon as I'm able to I will finish this story.

Thanks for holding on to this, and being there for me. Love you for that!